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CARNEGIE  INSTITUTE 
OF  TECHNOLOGY 


THE  LIBRARY 


THE    BRONTES 

LIFE  AND  LETTERS 


fnnn  Ms /twfrmt  /y,ftt*v,fr 'tfts/nnnti*/   V,    I 


THE    BRONTES 

LIFE  AND  LETTERS 

BEING  AN  ATTEMPT  TO  PRESENT  A  FULL 
AND  FINAL  RECORD  OK  THK  LIVES  OF 
THE  THRKE  SISTERS,  CHARLOTTE,  EMILY 
AND  ANNH  BRONTE  FROM  THE  BIOGRA- 
PHIES OF  MRS.  GASKELL  AND  OTHERS, 
AND  FROM  NUMEROUS  HITHERTO  UN- 
PUULISHEI)  MANUSCRIPTS  AND  LETTERS 


BY 

CLHMENT  SHORTER 


VOL  II 


HODDER  AND  STOUGHTON 
LONDON  :  MCMVIII 


Jtywf  Ktiitwn  firiuteti  ,V<yVr;/,'/w  WtV 
Second  JWitlon print t \l  A< wtmi\ v  / <;« ^' 


Edinburgh :  T,  »nd  A*  CONITAIUI,  Prim«ri  to  HU  ll^ntir 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   XIX 

TAUK 

THE   DKATH   OF    KM1LY    BKONTK,     *,.»»! 

CHAPTER   XX 

THE   DEATH   OF   ANNE   HRONTK,       .  .  .  *  1 8 

CHAPTER   XXI 

'SHIRLEY,1  „„...,.  56 

CHAPTER  XXII 

LITERARY   RECOGNITION,    ,  .  .  .  ,  .91 

CHAPTER   XXIII 

LONDON   AND   EDINBURGH*  „  140 

CHAPTKR   XXIV 

TWO   V!KITJ>  TO  THE   ENGLISH    LAKES,          .  ,  ,  160 

CHAPTER   XXV 

QUIET  »AVS   AT   HAWOKTIf,  *  .  .  *  .194 

CHAPTER   XXVI 

A   MONTH    IN   LONDON,        *  .  ,  .  *  .211 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

LONELY   HOUES,      *  ,  *  .  *  »  -253 

CHAPTER   XXVIII 

THE  WRITINO  OF  'VILLBTTK,1         *  »8« 


I'AT.K 


vi  THE  BRONTES 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

ARTHUR   BELL   NICHOLLS,   .  .  •  •  •  .292 

CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  LAST   NOVEL,  .  .  .  .  -  •  3°2 

CHAPTER  XXXI 

FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MRS.    GASKELL,  .  .  .  -  3X9 

CHAPTER  XXXII 

MARRIAGE,  .  -  .  .  •  .  342 

CHAPTER  XXXIII 

MARRIED   LIFE,        .......  366 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 

LAST  DAYS,  .  .  .  .  .  »  .382 

CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE  AFTERMATH,  .......  392 

APPENDICES 

i.  MRS.  BRONTE'S  ONLY  LITERARY  EFFORT,      .  .  .407 

II.  THE  BRONTES  AT  THORNTON,  .  .  .  .410 

in.  'THE  BRONTES  AT   COWAN  BRIDGE/  BY  THE  LATE   REV. 

ANGUS   M,   MACKAY,  .  .  ,  »  ,424 

IV.  THE  REV.   CARUS  WILSON   IN   THE   LAW  COURTS,         .  .  427 

V.   THE  EARLY   BRONTE   MANUSCRIPTS,   .  430 

VI.  PERSONAL  REMINISCENCES  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTK,   BY  JOHN 

STORES   SMITH,         ......  433 

VII.   ADDITIONAL   LETTERS,  .  444 

VIII.  MR.   A.   B.  NICHOLLS  AND  MR.  CARUS  WILSON,  ,  .  447 

INDEX, '.  .463 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  DEATH  OF  EMILY  BRONTE 

EMILY  BRONTE  is  the  sphinx  of  our  modern  literature. 
She  came  into  being  in  the  family  of  an  obscure  clergy- 
man, and  she  went  out  of  it  at  thirty  years  of  age 
without  leaving  behind  her  one  single  significant  record 
which  was  any  key  to  her  character  or  to  her  mode  of 
thought,  save  only  the  one  famous  novel,  Wuthering 
Heights,  and  a  few  poems — some  three  or  four  of  which 
will  live  in  our  poetic  anthologies  for  ever.  And  she  made 
no  single  friend  other  than  her  sister  Anne.  With  Anne 
she  must  have  corresponded  during  the  two  or  three 
periods  of  her  life  when  she  was  separated  from  that 
much-loved  sister ;  and  we  may  be  sure  that  the  corre- 
spondence was  of  a  singularly  affectionate  character. 
Charlotte,  who  never  came  very  near  to  her  in  thought  or 
sympathy,  although  she  loved  her  younger  sister  so  deeply, 
addressed  her  in  one  letter  as  *  mine  bonnie  love1  ;  and 
it  is  certain  that  her  own  letters  to  her  two  sisters,  and 
particularly  to  Anne,  must  have  been  peculiarly  tender 
and  ia  no  way  lacking  in  abundant  self-revelation.  When 
Emily  and  Anne  had  both  gone  to  the  grave.  Charlotte, 
it  is  probable,  carefully  destroyed  every  scrap  of  their 
correspondence,  and,  indeed,  of  their  literary  effects  that 
she  could  find ;  and  thus  it  is  that,  apart  from  her  books 
and  certain  fragments,  we  know  Emily  only  by  two  formal 
letters  to  her  sister's  friend.  Beyond  these  there  is  not 
one  scrap  of  information  as  to  Emily's  outlook  upon  life. 
In  infancy  she  was  with  Charlotte  at  Cowan  Bridge,  and 

VOL,  II,  A 


2  THE  BRONTES 

was  described  by  the  governess  as  'a  pretty  little  thing/ 
For  three  months  she  was  at  Miss  Wooler's  school  at  Roe 
Head  ;  but  there,  unlike  Charlotte,  she  made  no  friends. 
She  and  Anne  were  inseparable  when  at  home,  but  of 
what  they  said  to  one  another  there  is  no  record.  The 
sisters  must  have  differed  in  many  ways,  Anne,  gentle 
and  persuasive,  grew  up  like  Charlotte,  devoted  to  the 
Christianity  of  her  father  and  mother,  and  entirely  in 
harmony  with  all  the  conditions  of  a  parsonage.  It  is 
impossible  to  think  that  the  author  of  'The  Old  Stoic' 
and  '  Last  Lines '  was  equally  attached  to  the  creeds  of  the 
churches;  but  what  Emily  thought  on  religious  subjects 
the  world  will  never  know.  Mrs.  Gaskell  put  to  Miss 
Nussey  this  very  question  :  *  What  was  Emily's  religion  ?  * 
But  Emily  was  the  last  person  in  the  world  to  have 
spoken  to  the  most  friendly  of  visitors  about  so  important 
a  theme.  For  a  short  time,  as  we  know,  Emily  was  in  a 
school  at  Law  Hill  near  Halifax — a  Miss  Patchct's.  She 
was,  for  a  still  longer  period,  at  the  H^ger  Pensionnat  at 
Brussels.  Mrs.  Gaskell's  business  was  to  write  the  life  of 
Charlotte  Bronte  and  not  of  her  sister  Emily ;  and  as  a 
result  there  is  little  enough  of  Emily  m  Mrs.  GaskelFs 
book — no  record  of  the  Halifax  and  Brussels  life  as  seen 
through  Emily's  eyes.  Time,  however,  has  brought  its 
revenge.  The  cult  which  started  with  Mr*  Sydney  Dobell, 
and  found  poetic  expression  in  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold's  fine 
lines  on  her, 

'  Whose  soul 

Knew  no  fellow  for  might, 
Passion,  vehemence,  grief, 
Daring,  since  Byron  died/  * 

culminated  in  an  enthusiastic  eulogy  by  Mr*  Swinburne, 
who  placed  her  in  the  very  forefront  of  English  women  of 
genius. 

I  have  said  that  there  are  no  records  of  Emily,  but 

1  Haworth  Churchyard,  April  1855,  by  Matthew  Arnold.    Macmillan  wad  Co. 


THE  DEATH  OF  EMILY  BRONTE     3 

there  are  the  two  scraps  of  '  Diary '  that  are  published  in 
their  chronological  order,  and  there  are  also  a  few  frag- 
ments, all  written  in  that  tiny  handwriting  which  the  girls 
affected,  and  bearing  various  dates  from  1833  to  1840. 
A  new  edition  of  Emily's  poems  should,  by  virtue  of 
these  verses,  have  a  great  Interest  for  her  admirers.1 
With  all  her  gifts  as  a  poet,  however,  it  is  by  Wuthering 
Heights  that  Emily  Bronte  is  best  known  to  the  world ; 
and  the  weirdness  and  force  of  that  book  suggest  an 
inquiry  concerning  the  influences  which  produced  it  Dr. 
Wrig-ht,  in  his  entertaining  book  The  Brontes  in  Ireland, 
recounts  the  story  of  Patrick  Bronte's  origin,  and  insists 
that  it  was  In  listening  to  her  father's  anecdotes  of  his 
own  Irish  experiences  that  Emily  obtained  the  weird 
material  of  Withering  Heights.  It  is  not,  of  course, 
enough  to  point  out  that  Dr.  Wright's  story  of  the  Irish 
Brontes  is  full  of  contradictions.  A  number  of  tales 
picked  up  at  random  from  an  illiterate  peasantry  might 
very  well  abound  in  inconsistencies,  and  yet  contain  some 
measure  of  truth.  But  nothing  in  Dr.  Wright's  narrative 
is  confirmed,  save  only  the  fact  that  Patrick  Bronte  con- 
tinued throughout  his  life  in  some  slight  measure  of 
correspondence  with  his  brothers  and  sisters — a  fact 
rendered  sufficiently  evident  by  a  perusal  of  his  will. 
Dr.  Wright  tells  of  many  visits  to  Ireland  in  order  to 
trace  the  Bronte  traditions  to  their  source ;  and  yet  he 
had  not — in  his  fisst  edition — marked  the  elementary  fact 
that  the  registry  of  births  in  County  Down  records  the 
existence  of  innumerable  Bruntys  and  of  not  a  single 
Bronte,  Dr.  Wright  probably  made  his  inquiries  with 
the  stories  of  Emily  and  Charlotte  well  in  mind.  He 
sought  for  similar  traditions,  and  the  quick-witted  Irish 
peasantry  gave  him  all  that  he  wanted*  They  served  up 
and  embellished  the  current  traditions  of  the  neighbour- 

1  Sec  The  Complete  Poems  by  Emily  Bronte,  edited  by  W,  Robertson  Nicoll  and 
Clement  Shorter,  published  by  Hodder  and  Stoughton  in  1908. 


4  THE  BRONTES 

hood  for  his  benefit,  as  the  peasantry  do  everywhere  for 
folklore  enthusiasts.  Charlotte  Bronte's  uncle  Hujrh,  we 
are  told,  read  the  Quarterly  Review  article  upon  Jam 
Eyre,  and,  armed  with  a  shillelagh,  came  to  England,  in 
order  to  wreak  vengeance  upon  the  writer  of  the  hitter 
attack.  He  landed  at  Liverpool,  walked  from  Liverpool 
to  Haworth,  saw  his  nieces,  who  'gathered  round  him/ 
and  listened  to  his  account  of  his  mission.  He  then  went 
to  London  and  made  abundant  inquiries — but  why  pursue 
this  ludicrous  story  further?  In  the  first  place,  the 
Quarterly  Review  article  was  published  in  December  iS.jS 
— after  Emily  was  dead,  and  while  Anne  was  dying'. 
Very  soon  after  the  review  appeared  Charlotte  was  in- 
formed of  its  authorship,  and  references  to  Miss  Rigby  and 
the  Quarterly  are  found  more  than  once  m  her  correspon- 
dence with  Mr.  Williams. 

This  is  a  lengthy  digression  from  the  story  of  Emily's 
life,  but  it  is  of  moment  to  discover  whether  there  is  any 
evidence  of  influences  other  than  those  which  her  York- 
shire home  afforded.  I  have  discussed  the  matter  with 
Miss  Ellen  Nussey,  and  with  Mr.  Nicholls,  Miss  Nussey 
never,  in  all  her  visits  to  Haworth,  heard  a  single  reference 
to  the  Irish  legends  related  by  Dr.  Wright,  and  firmly 
believed  them  to  be  mythical.  Mr.  Nicholls,  during  the 
six  years  that  he  lived  alone  at  the  parsonage  with  his 
father-in-law,  never  heard  one  single  word  from  Mr. 
Bronte — who  was  by  no  means  disposed  to  reticence— 
about  these  stories,  and  was  also  of  opinion  that  they  were 
purely  legendary. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  Emily  would  have  been 
guilty  almost  of  a  crime  to  have  based  the  more  sordid 
part  of  her  narrative  upon  her  brother's  transgressions* 
This  is  sheer  nonsense.  She  wrote  Wuthcring  Heights 
because  she  was  impelled  thereto,  and  the  book,  with  ail 
its  morbid  force  and  fire,  will  remain,  for  all  time,  as  a 
monument  of  the  most  striking  genius  that  nineteenth- 


THE  DEATH  OF  EMILY  BRONTE  S 

century  womanhood  has  given  us.  It  was  partly  her  life 
in  Yorkshire — the  local  colour  was  mainly  derived  from 
her  brief  experience  as  a  governess  at  Halifax — but  it  was 
partly,  also,  I  am  inclined  to  believe,  the  German  fiction 
which  she  had  devoured  during  the  Brussels  period,  that 
inspired  Writ/wring  Heights,  although  of  this  there  is  no 
real  evidence.1 

Emily  Bronte's  life-story  has  been  told  by  a  latter-day 
writer  of  genius.  But  Miss  Mary  F.  Robinson's  little 
book2  was  written  under  great  difficulties.  She  had 
access  to  no  material  other  than  that  contained  in  the 
printed  volumes.  Some  scraps  of  new  information  she 
did  indeed  obtain  from  the  recollections  of  Miss  Ellen 
Nussey  and  others  who  were  then  alive  to  remember  the 
Bronte  family.  Miss  Robinson  built  up  a  theory  that 
Emily  was  more  long-suffering,  more  tolerant  of  Bran- 
well's  continued  viciousness  than  were  her  sisters.  Yet  in 
quoting  a  letter  that  Charlotte  wrote  to  Miss  Nussey  on 
her  return  from  a  visit  to  Brookroyd  she  did  not  know  that 
the  ' '  in  the  following  sentence  referred  to  Emily; — 

3  The  most  effective  reply  to  Dr.  Wright's  book  that  I  have  seen  was  published  in 
The  Westminster  Review  for  October  1895.  The  author,  the  late  Rev.  Angus 
Mackay,  emphasised  with  effect  the  inconsistencies  in  Dr.  Wright's  account  of  the 
Bronte  ancestry;  and  concerning  the  suggestion  that  Emily  founded  Wuthering  Heights 
upon  certain  Irish  family  traditions,  has  the  following  pregnant  remarks: — 'The  truth- 
loving  Charlotte's  account  of  the  matter  must  necessarily  be  final.  She  might  blame- 
lessly have  kept  silence  about  the  origin  of  Wuthering  Heights,  but  she  would  never 
have  deliberately  misled  us ;  and  she  tells  us  distinctly  in  her  preface  to  her  sister's 
book  that  the  materials  of  "Wuthering  Heights  were  gathered  in  Yorkshire.  Speaking 
of  Emily's  aloofness  from  all  her  neighbours,  she  says:  "Yet  she  knew  them;  knew 
their  ways,  their  language,  their  family  histories  ;  she  could  hear  of  them  with  interest, 
and  talk  of  them  with  detail,  minute,  graphic,  and  accurate ;  but  with  them  she  rarely 
exchanged  a  word.  Hence  it  ensued  that  what  her  mind  had  gathered  of  the  real  con- 
cerning them  was  too  exclusively  confined  to  those  tragic  and  terrible  traits  of  which,  in 
listening  to  the  secret  annals  of  every  rude  vicinage,  the  memory  is  sometimes  compelled 
to  receive  the  impress.  Her  imagination,  which  was  a  spirit  more  sombre  than  sunny, 
more  powerful  than  sportive,  found  in  such  traits  material  whence  it  wrought  creations 
like  Heathcliffe,  like  Earnshaw,  like  Catherine."  To  all  who  really  know  Charlotte's 
character  this  is  conclusive  and  final.  Had  both  plot  and  characters  been  derived  from 
the  history  of  an  ancestor  these  words  would  never  have  been  written.' 

*  Emily  Brontt,  by  A.  Mary  F.  Robinson.  The  Eminent  Women  Series,  edited  by 
John  H,  Ingram.  W,  H.  Allen  and  Co.,  1889. 


6  THE  BRONTES 

I  hear  that  he  got  a  sovereign  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.     concluded  her  account  by  saying  that  he  was 

*  a  hopeless  being/ 

The  fact  is  that  Branwell's  state  at  that  time  was  such 
that  Emily,  being  only  human,  could  not  possibly  have 
been  more  tolerant— and  rightly  so — than  her  two  sisters. 
Yet  Miss  Robinson's  account  is  worth  quoting,  the  more 
especially  as  it  contains  an  episode  not  treated  elsewhere. 
Possibly  the  story  was  invented  after  Jane  Eyre  was 
written,  but  we  will  hope  it  is  true  :— 

There  was  one  woman's  heart  strong  enough  in  its  compassion 
to  bear  the  daily  disgusts,  weaknesses,  sins  of  Branweirs  life, 
and  yet  persist  in  aid  and  affection.  Night  after  night,  when  Mr* 
Bronte  was  in  bed,  when  Anne  and  Charlotte  had  gone  upstairs 
to  their  room,  Emily  still  sat  up  waiting.  She  often  had  very 
long  to  wait  in  the  silent  house  before  the  staggering  tread,  the 
muttered  oath,  the  fumbling  hand  at  the  door,  bade  her  rouse 
herself  from  her  sad  thoughts  and  rise  to  let  in  the  prodigal,  and 
lead  him  in  safety  to  his  rest.  But  she  never  wearied  in  her 
kindness.  In  that  silent  home,  it  was  the  silent  Emily  who  had 
ever  a  cheering  word  for  Branwell ;  it  was  Emily  who  still  re- 
membered that  he  was  her  brother,  without  that  remembrance 
freezing  her  heart  to  numbness.  She  still  hoped  to  win  him  back 
by  love  ;  and  the  very  force  and  sincerity  of  his  guilty  passion  (an 
additional  horror  and  sin  in  her  sister's  eyes)  was  a  claim  on 
Emily,  ever  sympathetic  to  violent  feeling.  Thus  it  was  she  who, 
more  than  the  others,  became  familiarised  with  the  agony,  and 
doubts,  and  shame  of  that  tormented  soul;  and  if,  in  her  little 
knowledge  of  the  world,  she  imagined  such  wrested  passions  to 
be  natural,  it  is  not  upon  her,  of  a  certainty,  that  the  blame  of 
her  pity  shall  be  laid. 

As  the  time  went  on  and  Branwell  grew  worse  and  wilder,  it 
was  well  for  the  lonely  watcher  that  she  was  strong.  At  last  he 
grew  ill,  and  would  be  content  to  go  to  bed  early  and  lie  there 
half-stupefied  with  opium  and  drink.  One  such  night,  their 
father  and  Branwell  being  in  bed,  the  sisters  came  upstairs  to 


THE  DEATH  OF  EMILY  BRONTE    7 

sleep.  Emily  had  gone  on  first  into  the  little  passage  room 
where  she  still  slept,  when  Charlotte,  passing  Branwell's  partly- 
opened  door,  saw  a  strange  bright  flare  inside.  'Oh,  Emily!' 
she  cried,  c  the  house  is  on  fire ! ' 

Emily  came  out,  her  fingers  at  her  lips.  She  had  remembered 
her  father's  great  horror  of  fire ;  it  was  the  one  dread  of  a  brave 
man :  he  would  have  no  muslin  curtains,  no  light  dresses  in  his 
house.  She  came  out  silently  and  saw  the  flame;  then,  very 
white  and  determined,  dashed  from  her  room  downstairs  into  the 
passage,  where  every  night  full  pails  of  water  stood.  One  in  each 
hand  she  came  upstairs.  Anne,  Charlotte,  the  young  servant, 
shrinking  against  the  wall,  huddled  together  in  amazed  horror — 
Emily  went  straight  on  and  entered  the  blazing  room.  In  a  short 
while  the  bright  light  ceased  to  flare.  Fortunately  the  flame  had 
not  reached  the  woodwork  :  drunken  Branwell,  turning  in  his  bed, 
must  have  upset  the  light  on  to  his  sheets,  for  they  and  the  bed 
were  all  on  fire,  and  he  unconscious  in  the  midst  when  Emily 
went  in,  even  as  Jane  Eyre  found  Mr.  Rochester.  But  it  was 
with  no  reasonable,  thankful  human  creature  with  whom  Emily 
had  to  deal.  After  a  few  long  moments,  those  still  standing 
in  the  passage  saw  her  stagger  out,  white,  with  singed  clothes, 
half-carrying  in  her  arms,  half-dragging,  her  besotted  brother. 
She  placed  him  in  her  bed  and  took  away  the  light ;  then  assur- 
ing the  hysterical  girls  that  there  could  be  no  further  danger,  she 
bade  them  go  and  rest — but  where  she  slept  herself  that  night  no 
one  remembers  now. 

Letter  315 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

November  23^,  '48. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Whatever  my  inclination  may  be  to  let  all 
correspondence  alone  for  the  present,  I  feel  that  to  you  at  least  I 
ought  to  write  a  line.  I  told  you  Emily  was  ill,  in  my  last  letter. 
She  has  not  rallied  yet  She  is  'very  ill.  I  believe,  if  you  were  to 
see  her,  your  impression  would  be  that  there  is  no  hope.  A  more 
hollow,  wasted,  pallid  aspect  I  have  not  beheld.  The  deep,  tight 
cough  continues ;  the  breathing  after  the  least  exertion  is  a  rapid 
pant ;  and  these  symptoms  are  accompanied  by  pains  in  the  chest 
and  side.  Her  pulse,  the  only  time  she  allowed  it  to  be  felt, 
was  found  to  beat  115  per  minute.  In  this  state  she  resolutely 


8  THE  BRONTES 

refuses  to  see  a  doctor ;  she  will  not  give  an  explanation  of  her 
feelings,  she  will  scarcely  allow  her  illness  to  be  alluded  to, 
Our  position  is,  and  has  been  for  some  weeks,  exquisitely 
painful.  God  only  knows  how  all  this  is  to  terminate.  More 
than  once,  I  have  been  forced  boldly  to  regard  the  terrible 
event  of  her  loss  as  possible  and  even  probable.  But  nature 
shrinks  from  such  thoughts.  I  think  Emily  seems  the  nearest 
thing  to  my  heart  in  this  world.  Miss  Mary  Robinson  is  just 
married  to  Mr,  H.  Clapham,  a  relation  of  the  Sugdcns.  Mrs. 
Robinson  is  now  Lady  Scott  Her  daughters  say  she  is  in  the 
highest  spirits.  Write  to  me  soon,  dear  Ellen,  and  believe  me, 
yours  faithfully,  C  BRONTE. 


Letter   316 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — I  mentioned  your  coming  here  to  Emily 
as  a  mere  suggestion,  with  the  faint  hope  that  the  prospect  might 
cheer  her,  as  she  really  esteems  you  perhaps  more  than  any  other 
person  out  of  this  house.  I  found,  however,  it  would  not  do ; 
any,  the  slightest  excitement  or  putting  out  of  the  way  is  not  to 
be  thought  of,  and  indeed  I  do  not  think  the  journey  in  this 
unsettled  weather,  with  the  walk  from  Keighley  and  walk  back, 
at  all  advisable  for  yourself.  Yet  I  should  have  liked  to  see  you, 
and  so  would  Anne.  Emily  continues  much  the  same  ;  yesterday 
I  thought  her  a  little  better,  but  to-day  she  is  not  so  well,  I  hope 
still — for  I  must  hope — she  is  dear  to  me  as  life — If  I  let  the  faint- 
ness  of  despair  reach  my  heart  I  shall  become  worthless.  The 
attack  was,  I  believe,  in  the  first  place,  inflammation  of  the  lungs  ; 
it  ought  to  have  been  met  promptly  in  time.  She  is  too  intract* 
able.  I  do  wish  I  knew  her  state  and  feelings  more  clearly*  The 
fever  is  not  so  high  as  it  was,  but  the  pain  in  the  side,  the  cough, 
the  emaciation  are  there  still. 

Take  care  of  yourself,  dear  Ellen,  for  the  sake  of  all  who  have 
any  affection  for  you.  I  believe  these  influenza  colds  are  most 
insidious  things.  I  think  I  scarcely  need  make  a  reference  to  the 
absurd  rumour  about  the  fortune,  etc.  In  what  it  had  its  rise  I  do 
not  know.  I  am  not  aware  that  we  have  a  relation  in  tjtie  world 
in  a  position  to  leave  a  handsome  fortune  to  anybody,  I  think 


THE  DEATH  OF  EMILY  BRONTE    9 

you  must  have  been  mistaken  in  saying  that  the  Miss  Woolers 
spread  so  groundless  a  report,  they  are  not  such  gossips. 

Remember  me  kindly  to  all  at  Brookroyd,  and  believe  me, 
yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  317 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

December  7  th,  1848. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  duly  received  Dr.  Curie's  work  on  Homoe- 
opathy, and  ought  to  apologise  for  having  forgotten  to  thank  you 
for  it.  I  will  return  it  when  I  have  given  it  a  more  attentive 
perusal  than  I  have  yet  had  leisure  to  do.  My  sister  has  read 
it,  but  as  yet  she  remains  unshaken  in  her  former  opinion :  she 
will  not  admit  there  can  be  efficacy  in  such  a  system.  Were 
I  in  her  place,  it  appears  to  me  that  I  should  be  glad  to  give 
it  a  trial,  confident  that  it  can  scarcely  do  harm  and  might  do 
good, 

I  can  give  no  favourable  report  of  Emily's  state.  My  father  is 
very  despondent  about  her.  Anne  and  I  cherish  hope  as  well  as 
we  can,  but  her  appearance  and  her  symptoms  tend  to  crush  that 
feeling.  Yet  I  argue  that  the  present  emaciation,  cough,  weak- 
ness, shortness  of  breath  are  the  results  of  inflammation,  now,  I 
trust,  subsided,  and  that  with  time  these  ailments  will  gradually 
leave  her.  But  my  father  shakes  his  head  and  speaks  of  others 
of  our  family  once  similarly  afflicted,  for  whom  he  likewise 
persisted  in  hoping  against  hope,  and  who  are  now  removed 
where  hope  and  fear  fluctuate  no  more.  There  were,  however, 
differences  between  their  case  and  hers — important  differences  I 
think.  I  must  cling  to  the  expectation  of  her  recovery,  I  cannot 
renounce  it. 

Much  would  I  give  to  have  the  opinion  of  a  skilful  professional 
man.  It  is  easy,  my  dear  sir,  to  say  there  is  nothing  in  medicine, 
and  that  physicians  are  useless,  but  we  naturally  wish  to  procure 
aid  for  those  we  love  when  we  see  them  suffer ;  most  painful  is  it 
to  sit  still,  look  on,  and  do  nothing.  Would  that  my  sister  added 
to  her  many  great  qualities  the  humble  one  of  tractability !  I  have 
again  and  again  incurred  her  displeasure  by  urging  the  necessity 
jOfj&eeking  advice,  and  I  fear  I  must  yet  incur  it  again  and  again. 
Let  me  leave  the  subject ;  I  have  no  right  thus  to  make  you  a 
sharer  in  our  sorrow. 


10  THE  BRONTES 

I  am  indeed  surprised  that  Mr.  Newby  should  say  that  he  is 
to  publish  another  work  by  Ellis  and  Acton  Bell.  Acton  has  had 
quite  enough  of  him.  I  think  I  have  before  intimated  that  that 
author  never  more  intends  to  have  Mr.  Newby  for  a  publisher. 
Not  only  does  he  seem  to  forget  that  engagements  made  should 
be  fulfilled,  but  by  a  system  of  petty  and  contemptible  man- 
oeuvring he  throws  an  air  of  charlatanry  over  the  works  of  which 
he  has  the  management.  This  does  not  suit  the  *  BelLs ' :  they 
have  their  own  rude  north-country  ideas  of  what  is  delicate, 
honourable,  and  gentlemanlike. 

Newby 's  conduct  in  no  sort  corresponds  with  these  notions ; 
they  have  found  him — I  will  not  say  what  they  have  found  him* 
Two  words  that  would  exactly  suit  him  are  at  my  pen  point,  but 
I  shall  not  take  the  trouble  to  employ  them. 

Ellis  Bell  is  at  present  in  no  condition  to  trouble  himself  with 
thoughts  either  of  writing  or  publishing.  Should  it  please  Heaven 
to  restore  his  health  and  strength,  he  reserves  to  himself  the  right 
of  deciding  whether  or  not  Mr.  Newby  has  forfeited  every  claim 
to  his  second  work, 

I  have  not  yet  read  the  second  number  of  Pmdtnnis.  The 
first  I  thought  rich  in  indication  of  ease,  resource,  promise;  but 
it  is  not  Thackeray's  way  to  develop  his  full  power  all  at  once* 
Vanity  Fair  began  very  quietly — it  was  quiet  all  through,  but 
the  stream  as  it  rolled  gathered  a  resistless  volume  and  force, 
Such,  I  doubt  not,  will  be  the  case  with  Pendennis. 

You  must  forget  what  I  said  about  Eliza  Lynn.  She  may  be 
the  best  of  human  beings,  and  I  am  but  a  narrow-minded  fool  to 
express  prejudice  against  a  person  I  have  never  seen. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  sir,  in  haste,  yours  sincerely, 

C  BKONT& 

Letter  318 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

December  %rd,  1848. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,— Your  letter  seems  to  relieve  me  from  a  diffi- 
culty and  to  open  my  way,  I  know  it  would  be  useless  to 
consult  Drs.  Elliotson  or  Forbes :  my  sister  would  not  see  the 
most  skilful  physician  in  England  if  he  were  brought  to  her 
just  now,  nor  would  she  follow  his  prescription.  With  regard 
to  Homoeopathy,  she  has  at  least  admitted  that  it  cannot  do 


THE  DEATH  OF  EMILY  BRONTE    11 

much  harm ;  perhaps  if  I  get  the  medicines  she  may  consent  to 
try  them  ;  at  any  rate,  the  experiment  shall  be  made. 

Not  knowing  Dr.  Eppsjs  address,  I  send  the  enclosed  statement 
of  her  case  through  your  hands.1 

I  deeply  feel  both  your  kindness  and  Mr.  Smith's  in  thus 
interesting  yourselves  in  what  touches  me  so  nearly. — Believe 
me,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  319 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

December  io#&,  1848. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — I  hardly  know  what  to  say  to  you  about 
the  subject  which  now  interests  me  the  most  keenly  of  anything 
in  this  world,  for,  in  truth,  I  hardly  know  what  to  think  myself. 
Hope  and  fear  fluctuate  daily.  The  pain  in  her  side  and  chest 
is  better;  the  cough,  the  shortness  of  breath,  the  extreme 
emaciation  continue.  Diarrhoea  commenced  nearly  a  fortnight 
ago,  and  continues  still.  Of  course  it  greatly  weakens  her,  but 
she  thinks  herself  it  tends  to  good,  and  I  hope  so.  I  have 
endured,  however,  such  tortures  of  uncertainty  on  this  subject  that 

1  It  runs  thus  : — 

December  gtk,  1848. 

The  patient,  respecting  whose  case  Dr.  Epps  is  consulted,  and  for  -whom  his  opinion 
and  advice  are  requested,  is  a  female  in  her  3ist  year.  A  peculiar  reserve  of  character 
renders  it  difficult  to  draw  from  her  all  the  symptoms  of  her  malady,  but  as  far  as  they 
can  be  ascertained  they  are  as  follows : — 

Her  appetite  failed ;  she  evinced  a  continual  thirst,  with  a  craving  for  acids,  and 
required  a  constant  change  of  beverage.  In  appearance  she  grew  rapidly  emaciated ; 
her  pulse — the  only  time  she  allowed  it  to  be  felt — was  found  to  be  115  per  minute. 
The  patient  usually  appeared  worse  in  the  forenoon,  she  was  then  frequently  exhausted 
and  drowsy ;  toward  evening  she  often  seemed  better. 

Expectoration  accompanies  the  cough.  The  shortness  of  breath  is  aggravated  by  the 
slightest  exertion.  The  patient's  sleep  is  supposed  to  be  tolerably  good  at  intervals, 
but  disturbed  by  paroxysms  of  coughing.  Her  resolution  to  contend  against  illness 
being  very  fixed,  *she  has  never  consented  to  lie  in  bed  for  a  single  day — she  sits  up 
from  7  in  the  morning  till  10  at  night.  All  medical  aid  she  has  rejected,  insisting  that 
Nature  should  be  left  to  take  her  own  course.  She  has  taken  no  medicine,  but  occasion- 
ally *  mild  aperient  and  Locock's  cough  wafers,  of  which  she  has  used  about  3  per  diem, 
and  considers  their  effect  rather  beneficial.  Her  diet,  which  she  regulates  herself,  is 
very  simple  and  light* 

The  patient  has  hitherto  enjoyed  ptetty  good  health,  though  she  has  never  looked 
strong,  and  the  family  constitution  is  not  supposed  to  be  robust.  Her  temperament  is 
highly  nervous.  She  has  been  accustomed  to  a  sedentary  and  studious  life. 

If  Dr»  Epps  can,  from  what  has  here  been  stated,  give  an  opinion  on  the  case  and 
piescribe  a  course  of  treatment,  he  will  greatly  oblige  the  patient's  friends. 

Address— Miss  Bronte,  Parsonage,  Haworth,  Bradford,  Yorks. 


12  THE  BRONTES 

at  length  I  could  endure  It  no  longer;  and  as  her  repugnance 
to  seeing  a  medical  man  continues  immutable — as  she  declares 
'no  poisoning  doctor'  shall  come  near  her,  I  have  written, 
unknown  to  her,  to  an  eminent  physician  in  London,  giving 
as  minute  a  statement  of  her  case  and  symptoms  as  I  could 
draw  up,  and  requesting  an  opinion.  I  expect  an  answer  in 
a  day  or  two.  I  am  thankful  to  say,  that  my  own  health  at 
present  is  very  tolerable.  It  is  well  such  is  the  case  ;  for  Anne, 
with  the  best  will  in  the  world  to  be  useful,  is  really  too  delicate 
to  do  or  bear  much.  She,  too,  at  present,  has  frequent  pains  in  the 
side.  Papa  is  also  pretty  well,  though  Emily's  state  renders  him 
very  anxious.  The  Robinsons  were  here  about  a  week  ago.  They 
are  attractive  and  stylish-looking  girls.  They  seemed  overjoyed 
to  see  Anne ;  when  I  went  into  the  room,  they  were  clinging 
round  her  like  two  children — she,  meantime,  looking*  perfectly 
quiet  and  passive.  You  ask  news  of  Mary  Taylor,  1  might  rathlT 
demand  tidings  of  you,  it  is  very  long  indeed  since  I  hoard  from 
or  of  her.  I  have  not  received  any  intelligence  from  Huns  worth 
since  the  day  Joe  and  Harry  took  it  into  their  heads  to  come  here. 
I  think  it  probable  offence  was  taken  on  that  occasion,  from  what 
cause  I  know  not ;  and  as,  if  such  be  the  case,  the  grudge  must 
rest  on  purely  imaginary  grounds,  and  since,  besides,  I  have  other 
things  to  think  about,  my  mind  rarely  dwells  on  the  subject.  If 
Emily  were  but  well,  I  feel  as  if  I  should  not  care  who  neglected, 
misunderstood,  or  abused  me.  I  would  rather  you  were  not  of 
the  number  either.  The  crab-cheese  arrived  safely,  Emily  has 
just  reminded  me  to  thank  you  for  it ;  it  looks  very  nice.  I  wish 
she  were  well  enough  to  eat  it.  With  sincere  regards  to  all  at 
Brookroyd,— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BuoNTi-;, 

Letter  320 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

Tuesday,  December  XQrt,  1848, 

DEAR  ELLEN,— I  should  have  written  to  you  before,  if  I  had 
had  one  word  of  hope  to  say ;  but  I  had  not.  She  grows  daily 
weaker.  The  physician's  opinion  was  expressed  too  obscurely  to 
be  of  use.  He  sent  some  medicine  which  she  would  not  take. 
Moments  so  dark  as  these  I  have  never  known,  I  pray  for  God's 
support  to  us  all.  Hitherto  He  has  granted  it—Yours  faithfully, 

C,  BRONTJi. 


THE  DEATH  OF  EMILY  BRONTE         13 

The  last  chapter  of  Emily's  pathetic  life  we  have  in  the 
words  of  Charlotte  as  told  to  the  public  in  that  memorable 
Introduction  to  Wnthering  Heights  : — 

But  a  great  change  approached.  Affliction  came  in  that  shape 
which  to  anticipate  is  dread,  to  look  back  on  grief.  In  the  very 
heat  and  burden  of  the  day  the  labourers  failed  over  their  work. 
My  sister  Emily  first  declined.  .  .  .  Never  in  all  her  life  had  she 
lingered  over  any  task  that  lay  before  her,  and  she  did  not  linger 
now.  She  sank  rapidly.  She  made  haste  to  leave  us.  ...  Day 
by  day,  when  I  saw  with  what  a  front  she  met  suffering,  I  looked 
on  her  with  an  anguish  of  wonder  and  love.  I  have  seen  nothing 
like  it ;  but,  indeed,  I  have  never  seen  her  parallel  in  anything. 
Stronger  than  a  man,  simpler  than  a  child,  her  nature  stood  alone. 
The  awful  point  was  that,  while  full  of  ruth  for  others,  on  herself 
she  had  no  pity ;  the  spirit  was  inexorable  to  the  flesh ;  from  the 
trembling  hand,  the  unnerved  limbs,  the  fading  eyes,  the  same 
service  was  exacted  as  they  had  rendered  in  health.  To  stand  by 
and  witness  this,  and  not  dare  to  remonstrate,  was  a  pain  no 
words  can  render. 

Now  again  Miss  Robinson  helps  us  to  fill  in  the  sad 
picture.  Doubtless  she  took  down  her  narrative  from 
Miss  Nussey  at  a  time  when  that  lady's  memory  was  at 
its  best 

The  days  drew  on  towards  Christmas ;  it  was  already  the 
middle  of  December  and  still  Emily  was  about  the  house,  able  to 
wait  upon  herself,  to  sew  for  the  others,  to  take  an  active  share  in 
the  duties  of  the  day.  She  always  fed  the  dogs  herself.  One 
Monday  evening,  it  must  have  been  about  the  I4th  of  December, 
she  rose  as  usual  to  give  the  creatures  their  supper.  She  got  up, 
walking  slowly,  holding  out  in  her  thin  hands  an  apronful  of 
broken  meat  and  bread.  But  when  she  reached  the  flagged 
passage  the  cold  took  her;  she  staggered  on  the  uneven  pave- 
ment and  fell  against  the  wall  Her  sisters,  who  had  been  sadly 
following  her,  unseen,  came  forward  much  alarmed  and  begged 
her  to  desist  But,  smiling  wanly,  she  went  on  and  gave  Floss 
and  Keeper  their  last  supper  from  her  hands. 

The  next  morning  she  was  worse.  Before  her  waking,  her 
watching  sisters  heard  the  low  unconscious  moaning  that  tells  of 


14  THE  BRONTES 

suffering  continued  even  in  sleep ;  and  they  feared  for  what  the 
coming  year  might  hold  in  store.  Of  the  nearness  of  the  end  they 
they  did  not  dream.  Charlotte  had  been  out  over  the  moors 
searching  every  glen  and  hollow  for  a  sprig  of  heather,  however 
pale  and  dry,  to  take  to  her  moor-loving  sister.  But  Emily 
looked  on  the  flower  laid  on  her  pillow  with  indifferent  eyes. 
She  was  already  estranged  and  alienate  from  life. 

Nevertheless  she  persisted  in  rising,  dressing  herself  alone,  and 
doing  everything  for  herself.  A  fire  had  been  lit  in  the  room> 
and  Emily  sat  on  the  hearth  to  comb  her  hair.  She  was  thinner 
than  ever  now — the  tall,  loose-jointed, '  slinky '  girl — her  hair  in  its 
plenteous  dark  abundance  was  all  of  her  that  was  not  marked  by 
the  branding  finger  of  death.  She  sat  on  the  hearth  combing  her 
long  brown  hair.  But  soon  the  comb  slipped  from  her  feeble 
grasp  into  the  cinders.  She,  the  intrepid,  active  Emily,  watched 
it  burn  and  smoulder,  too  weak  to  lift  it,  while  the  nauseous, 
hateful  odour  of  burnt  bone  rose  into  her  face.  At  last  the 
servant  came  in  :  *  Martha,'  she  said,  *  my  comb  ?s  down  there  ;  1 
was  too  weak  to  stoop  and  pick  it  up.' 

I  have  seen  the  old,  broken  comb  with  a  large  piece  burned  out 
of  it,  and  have  thought  it,  I  own,  more  pathetic  than  the  bones  of 
the  eleven  thousand  virgins  at  Cologne,  or  the  time-blackened 
Holy  Face  of  Lucca.  Sad,  chance  confession  of  human  weakness; 
mournful  counterpart  of  that  chainless  soul  which  to  the  end 
maintained  its  fortitude  and  rebellion.  The  flesh  is  weak.  Since 
I  saw  that  relic,  the  strenuous  verse  of  Emily  Bronte's  last  poem 
has  seemed  to  me  far  more  heroic,  far  more  moving ;  remember- 
ing in  what  clinging  and  prisoning  garments  that  free  spirit  was 
confined. 

The  flesh  was  weak,  but  Emily  would  grant  it  no  indulgence* 
She  finished  her  dressing,  and  came  very  slowly,  with  dizzy  head 
and  tottering  steps,  downstairs  into  the  little  bare  parlour  where 
Anne  was  working  and  Charlotte  writing  a  letter.  Emily  took  up 
some  work  and  tried  to  sew.  Her  catching  breath,  her  drawn 
and  altered  face  were  ominous  of  the  end.  But  still  a  little  hope 
flickered  in  those  sisterly  hearts.  f  She  grows  daily  weaker/  wrote 
Charlotte  on  that  memorable  Tuesday  morning ;  seeing  surely  no 
portent  that  this— this !  was  to  be  the  last  of  the  days  and  the 
hours  of  her  weakness. 

The  morning  drew  on  to  noon  and  Emily  grew  worse.  She 
could  no  longer  speak,  but— gasping  in  a  husky  whisper— she 


THE  DEATH  OF  EMILY  BRONTE         15 

said  :  c  If  you  will  send  for  a  doctor,  I  will  see  him  now ! '  Alas, 
it  was  too  late.  The  shortness  of  breath  and  rending  pain 
increased  ;  even  Emily  could  no  longer  conceal  them.  Towards 
two  o'clock  her  sisters  begged  her,  in  an  agony,  to  let  them  put 
her  to  bed.  *No,  no/  she  cried;  tormented  with  the  feverish 
restlessness  that  comes  before  the  last,  most  quiet  peace.  She 
tried  to  rise,  leaning  with  one  hand  upon  the  sofa.  And  thus 
the  cord  of  life  snapped.  She  was  dead.  She  was  thirty 
years  old.1 

Letter  321 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

December 23^  1848. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — Emily  suffers  no  more  from  pain  or  weak- 
ness now.  She  will  never  suffer  more  in  this  world.  She  is  gone, 
after  a  hard,  short  conflict.  She  died  on  Tuesday,  the  very  day 
I  wrote  to  you.  I  thought  it  very  possible  she  might  be  with  us 
still  for  weeks ;  and  a  few  hours  afterwards  she  was  in  eternity. 
Yes ;  there  is  no  Emily  in  time  or  on  earth  now.  Yesterday 
we  put  her  poor,  wasted,  mortal  frame  quietly  under  the  church 
pavement.  We  are  very  calm  at  present.  Why  should  we  be 
otherwise?  The  anguish  of  seeing  her  suffer  is  over ;  the  spectacle 
of  the  pains  of  death  is  gone  by  ;  the  funeral  day  is  past  We  feel 
she  is  at  peace.  No  need  now  to  tremble  for  the  hard  frost  and 
the  keen  wind.  Emily  does  not  feel  them.  She  died  in  a  time 
of  promise.  We  saw  her  taken  from  life  in  its  prime.  But  it  is 
God's  will,  and  the  place  where  she  is  gone  is  better  than  she 
has  left2 

God  has  sustained  me,  in  a  way  that  I  marvel  at,  through  such 
agony  as  I  had  not  conceived,  I  now  look  to  Anne,  and  wish 
she  were  well  and  strong ;  but  she  is  neither ;  nor  is  papa.  Could 
you  now  come  to  us  for  a  few  days  ?  I  would  not  ask  you  to  stay 
long.  Write  and  tell  me  if  you  could  come  next  week,  and  by 
what  train.  I  would  try  to  send  a  gig  for  you  to  Keighley.  You 

J  Emily  Bront^  by  A.  Mary  F.  Robinson.  Emily  was  in  her  31  st  year,  z.<?.  30  years 
and  5  months  old. 

3  As  the  old  bereaved  father  and  his  two  surviving  children  followed  the  cofEn  to  the 
grave  they  were  joined  by  Keeper,  Emily's  fierce  faithful  bulldog.  He  walked  along- 
side of  the  mourners,  and  into  the  church,  and  stayed  quietly  there  all  the  time  that  the 
burial  service  was  being  read.  When  he  came  home  he  lay  down  at  Emily's  chamber 
door,  and  howled  pitifully  for  many  days.  Anne  Bronte  drooped  and  sickened  more 
rapidly  from  that  time ;  and  so  ended  the  year  1848. — Mrs.  Gaskell's  Life, 


16  THE  BRONTES 

will,  I  trust,  find  us  tranquil.  Try  to  come.  I  never  so  much 
needed  the  consolation  of  a  friend's  presence.  Pleasure,  of  course, 
there  would  be  none  for  you  in  the  visit,  except  what  your  kind 
heart  would  teach  you  to  find  in  doing  good  to  others. 


Letter  322 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

Derembcr  z$tJi,  1848. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  will  write  to  you  more  at  length  when  my 
heart  can  find  a  little  rest — now  I  can  only  thank  you  very  briefly 
for  your  letter,  which  seemed  to  me  eloquent  in  its  sincerity. 

Emily  is  nowhere  here  now,  her  wasted  mortal  remains  are 
taken  out  of  the  house.  We  have  laid  her  cherished  head  under 
the  church  aisle  beside  my  mother's,  my  two  sisters'— dead  long 
agO — and  my  poor,  hapless  brother's.  But  a  small  remnant  of 
the  race  is  left — so  my  poor  father  thinks. 

Well,  the  loss  is  ours,  not  hers,  and  some  sad  comfort  I  take, 
as  I  hear  the  wind  blow  and  feel  the  cutting  keenness  of  the  frost, 
in  knowing  that  the  elements  bring  her  no  more  .suffering ;  their 
severity  cannot  reach  her  grave ;  her  fever  is  quieted,  her  restless- 
ness soothed,  her  deep,  hollow  cough  is  hushed  for  ever ;  we  do 
not  hear  it  in  the  night  nor  listen  for  it  in  the  morning  ;  we  have 
not  the  conflict  of  the  strangely  strong  spirit  and  the  fragile  frame 
before  us — relentless  conflict — once  seen,  never  to  he?  forgotten, 
A  dreary  calm  reigns  round  us,  in  the  midst  of  which  we  seek 
resignation. 

My  father  and  my  sister  Anne  are  far  from  well.  As  for  me, 
God  has  hitherto  most  graciously  sustained  me;  so  far  1  have 
felt  adequate  to  bear  my  own  burden  and  even  to  offer  a  little 
help  to  others.  I  am  not  ill ;  I  can  get  through  daily  duties, 
and  do  something  towards  keeping  hope  and  energy  alive  in 
our  mourning  household.  My  father  says  to  me  almost  hourly, 
'Charlotte,  you  must  bear  up,  I  shall  sink  if  you  fail  me* ;  these 
words,  you  can  conceive,  are  a  stimulus  to  nature.  The  sight, 
too,  of  my  sister  Anne's  very  still  but  deep  sorrow  wakens  in  me 
such  fear  for  her  that  I  dare  not  falter.  Somebody  must  cheer 
the  rest. 

So  I  will  not  now  ask  why  Emily  was  torn  from  us  in  the  fulness 
of  our  attachment,  rooted  up  in  the  prime  of  her  own  days,  in  the 


THE  DEATH  OF  EMILY  BRONTE         17 

promise  of  her  powers ;  why  her  existence  now  lies  like  a  field  of 
green  corn  trodden  down,  like  a  tree  in  full  bearing  struck  at  the 
root  I  will  only  say,  sweet  is  rest  after  labour  and  calm  after 
tempest,  and  repeat  again  and  again  that  Emily  knows  that 
now. — Yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE, 


Letter  323 

TO   W.   S.  WILLIAMS 

January  2nd,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Untoward  circumstances  come  to  me,  I  think, 
less  painfully  than  pleasant  ones  would  just  now.  The  lash  of 
the  Qitarterly,  however  severely  applied,  cannot  sting — as  its 
praise  probably  would  not  elate  me.  Currer  Bell  feels  a  sorrowful 
independence  of  reviews  and  reviewers  ;  their  approbation  might 
indeed  fall  like  an  additional  weight  on  his  heart,  but  their  censure 
has  no  bitterness  for  him. 

My  sister  Anne  sends  the  accompanying  answer  to  the  letter 
received  through  you  the  other  day ;  will  you  be  kind  enough  to 
post  it?  She  is  not  well  yet,  nor  is  papa,  both  are  suffering  under 
severe  influenza  colds.  My  letters  had  better  be  brief  at  present — 
they  cannot  be  cheerful.  I  am,  however,  still  sustained.  While 
looking  with  dismay  on  the  desolation  sickness  and  death  have 
wrought  in  our  home  I  can  combine  with  awe  of  God's  judgments 
a  sense  of  gratitude  for  his  mercies.  Yet  life  has  become  very 
void,  and  hope  has  proved  a  strange  traitor ;  when  I  shall  again 
be  able  to  put  confidence  in  her  suggestions,  I  know  not:  she 
kept  whispering  that  Emily  would  not,  could  not  die,  and  where 
is  she  now  ?  Out  of  my  reach,  out  of  my  world — torn  from  me. — 
Yours  sincerely,  C*  BRQNTK 


VOL,  II. 


18  THE  BRONTES 


CHAPTER    XX 

THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE 

BRANWELL,  Emily,  and  Anne  Bronte  all  died  within  a 
twelvemonth,  and  that  the  surviving  sister  felt  it  keenly 
enough  her  letters  give  unmistakable  evidence.  Yet 
during  that  year  she  wrote  half  of  her  third  novel,  S/iir/<y* 
She  had,  moreover,  to  face  a  criticism  that  touched  her 
sensitive  nature  with  fullest  intensity.  The  Quarterly 
Review  for  December  1848  contained  an  article  on  Jam 
Eyre,  which  happily  its  victim  did  not  see  until  after  her 
sister's  death,  when  the  greater  misery  made  the  less  most 
trivial  Miss  Rigby,  afterwards  Lady  Eastlake,  a  woman 
of  parts,  wrote  the  article  in  which  it  was  hinted  that  the 
author  of  Jane  Eyre,  although  probably  a  man,  if  a  woman 
must  be  'one  who  had  forfeited  the  society  of  her  sex,1 
and  in  any  case  that  the  book  was  in  'horrid  taste/ 
There  is  little  use  in  anathematising  such  a  judgment 
to-day.  It  was  of  the  nature  of  much  revie\ving  in  that 
generation.  Every  author  was  liable  to  it,  and  the 
reviewer  in  this  case  would  not  have  so  written  had  she 
known  that  the  author  was  the  daughter  of  a  country  clergy- 
man, like  herself  a  warm  adherent  of  Church  and  State, 

Letter  324 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

January  jo,  '49* 

DEAR  ELLEN,— I  found  out  that  Martha  had  neglected  to  put 
the  box  into  the  gig  about  an  hour  after  you  were  gone.  I  shall 
send  it  to  the  Bull  and  Mouth  at  Bradford  This  morning  I 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    19 

received  your  kind  letter,     Mr.  Nicholls  called  yesterday  and  told 
us  he  had  met  you  on  the  Railway. 

Anne  had  a  very  tolerable  day  yesterday,  and  a  pretty  quiet 
night  last  night,  though  she  did  not  sleep  much.  Mr.  Wheelhouse 
ordered  the  blister  to  be  put  on  again.  She  bore  it  without  sick- 
ness. I  have  just  dressed  it,  and  she  is  risen  and  come  down- 
stairs. She  looks  somewhat  pale  and  sickly.  She  has  had  one 
dose  of  the  cod-liver  oil  ;  it  smells  and  tastes  like  train  oil.  I  am 
trying  to  hope,  but  the  day  is  windy,  cloudy  and  stormy.  My 
spirits  fall  at  intervals  very  low ;  then  I  look  where  you  counsel 
me  to  look  beyond  earthly  tempests  and  sorrows.  I  seem  to  get 
strength,  if  not  consolation.  It  will  not  do  to  anticipate.  I  feel 
that  hourly.  In  the  night,  I  awake  and  long  for  the  morning ; 
then  my  heart  is  wrung.  Papa  continues  much  the  same ;  he  was 
very  faint  when  he  came  down  to  breakfast.  I  wrote  to  Huns- 
worth  telling  them  candidly  I  would  rather  they  did  not  come, 
as  owing  to  circumstances,  I  felt  it  was  not  in  my  power  to 
receive  them  as  I  could  wish.  Dear  Ellen,  your  friendship  is 
some  comfort  to  me.  I  am  thankful  for  it.  I  see  few  lights 
through  the  darkness  of  the  present  time ;  but  amongst  them 
the  constancy  of  a  kind  heart  attached  to  me  is  one  of  the  most 
charming  and  serene.  Remember  me  to  your  mother  and  sisters. 
— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  325 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

January  i^th,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  can  scarcely  say  that  Anne  is  worse,  nor  can 
I  say  she  is  better.  She  varies  often  in  the  course  of  a  day,  yet 
each  day  is  passed  pretty  much  the  same.  The  morning  is  usually 
the  best  time ;  the  afternoon  and  evening  the  most  feverish.  Her 
cough  is  the  most  troublesome  at  night,  but  it  is  rarely  violent. 
The  pain  in  her  arm  still  disturbs  her.  She  takes  the  cod-liver 
oil  and  carbonate  of  iron  regularly ;  she  finds  them  both  nauseous, 
but  especially  the  oil  Her  appetite  is  small  indeed.  Do  not  fear 
that  I  shall  relax  in  my  care  of  her.  She  is  too  precious  to  me 
not  to  be  cherished  with  all  the  fostering  strength  I  have.  Papa, 
I  am  thankful  to  say,  has  been  a  good  deal  better  this  last  day 
or  two, 

As  to  your  queries  about  myself,  lean  only  say,  that  if  I  con- 


20  THE  BRONTES 

tinue  as  I  am  I  shall  do  very  well.  I  have  not  yet  got  rid  of  the 
pains  in  my  chest  and  back.  They  oddly  return  with  every  change 
of  weather;  and  are  still  sometimes  accompanied  with  a  little 
soreness  and  hoarseness,  but  I  combat  them  steadily  with  pitch 
plasters  and  bran  tea.  I  should  think  it  silly  and  wrong  indeed 
not  to  be  regardful  of  my  own  health  at  present ;  it  would  not  do 
to  be  ill  now. 

I  avoid  looking  forward  or  backward,  and  try  to  keep  looking 
upward.  This  is  not  the  time  to  regret,  dread,  or  weep.  What  I 
have  and  ought  to  do  is  very  distinctly  laid  out  for  me ;  what 
I  want,  and  pray  for,  is  strength  to  perform  it.  The  clays  pass  in 
a  slow,  dark  march;  the  nights  are  the  test ;  the  sudden  wakings 
from  restless  sleep,  the  revived  knowledge  that  one  lies  in  her 
grave,  and  another  not  at  my  side,  but  in  a  separate  and  sick  bod. 
However,  God  is  over  all. — Yours  sincerely,  C  UkoNTk. 


Letter  326 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

January  1 8  *•*,#, 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — In  sitting  down  to  write  to  you  I  feel  as  if  I 
were  doing  a  wrong  and  a  selfish  thing.  I  believe  I  ought  to  dis- 
continue my  correspondence  with  you  till  times  change,  and  the 
tide  of  calamity  which  of  late  days  has  set  so  strongly  in  against 
us  takes  a  turn.  But  the  fact  is,  sometimes  I  feel  it  absolutely 
necessary  to  unburden  my  mind.  To  papa  I  must  only  speak 
cheeringly,  to  Anne  only  encouragingly — to  you  I  may  give  some 
hint  of  the  dreary  truth. 

Anne  and  I  sit  alone  and  in  seclusion  as  you  fancy  us,  but  we 
do  not  study.  Anne  cannot  study  now,  she  can  scarcely  read  ; 
she  occupies  Emily's  chair ;  she  does  not  get  well.  A  week  ago 
we  sent  for  a  medical  man  of  skill  and  experience  from  Leeds  to 
see  her.  He  examined  her  with  the  stethoscope.  His  report  I 
forbear  to  dwell  on  for  the  present— even  skilful  physicians  have 
often  been  mistaken  in  their  conjectures. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  hasten  her  away  to  a  warmer  climate, 
but  this  was  forbidden :  she  must  not  travel ;  she  is  not  to  stir 
from  the  house  this  winter ;  the  temperature  of  her  room  is  to  be 
kept  constantly  equal. 

Had  leave  been  given  to  try  change  of  air  and  scene,  I  should 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    21 

hardly  have  known  how  to  act.  I  could  not  possibly  leave  papa ; 
and  when  I  mentioned  his  accompanying  us,  the  bare  thought 
distressed  him  too  much  to  be  dwelt  upon.  Papa  is  now  upwards 
of  seventy  years  of  age ;  his  habits  for  nearly  thirty  years  have 
been  those  of  absolute  retirement ;  any  change  in  them  is  most 
repugnant  to  him,  and  probably  could  not,  at  this  time,  especially 
when  the  hand  of  God  is  so  heavy  upon  his  old  age,  be  ventured 
upon  without  danger. 

When  we  lost  Emily  I  thought  we  had  drained  the  very  dregs 
of  our  cup  of  trial,  but  now  when  I  hear  Anne  cough  as  Emily 
coughed,  I  tremble  lest  there  should  be  exquisite  bitterness  yet  to 
taste.  However,  I  must  not  look  forwards,  nor  must  I  look  back- 
wards. Too  often  I  feel  like  one  crossing  an  abyss  on  a  narrow 
plank — a  glance  round  might  quite  unnerve. 

So  circumstanced,  my  dear  sir,  what  claim  have  I  on  your 
friendship,  what  right  to  the  comfort  of  your  letters  ?  My  literary 
character  is  effaced  for  the  time,  and  it  is  by  that  only  you  know 
me.  Care  of  papa  and  Anne  is  necessarily  my  chief  present 
object  in  life,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  that  could  give  me  interest 
with  my  publishers  or  their  connections.  Should  Anne  get  better, 
I  think  I  could  rally  and  become  Currer  Bell  once  more,  but  if 
otherwise,  I  look  no  farther :  sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil 
thereof. 

Anne  is  very  patient  in  her  illness,  as  patient  as  Emily  was 
unflinching.  I  recall  one  sister  and  look  at  the  other  with  a  sort 
of  reverence  as  well  as  affection — under  the  test  of  suffering 
neither  has  faltered, 

All  the  days  of  this  winter  have  gone  by  darkly  and  heavily 
like  a  funeral  train.  Since  September  sickness  has  not  quitted 
the  house.  It  is  strange  it  did  not  use  to  be  so,  but  I  suspect  now 
all  this  has  been  coming  on  for  years.  Unused,  any  of  us,  to  the 
possession  of  robust  health,  we  have  not  noticed  the  gradual 
approaches  of  decay ;  we  did  not  know  its  symptoms :  the  little 
cough,  the  small  appetite,  the  tendency  to  take  cold  at  every 
variation  of  atmosphere  have  been  regarded  as  things  of  course. 
I  see  them  in  another  light  now. 

If  you  answer  this,  write  to  me  as  you  would  to  a  person  In  an 
average  state  of  tranquillity  and  happiness.  I  want  to  keep 
myself  as  firm  and  calm  as  I  can.  While  papa  and  Anne  want 
me,  I  hope,  I  pray,  never  to  fail  them,  Were  I  to  see  you  I  should 
endeavour  to  converse  on  ordinary  topics,  and  I  should  wish  to 


22  THE  BRONTES 

write  on  the  same — besides,  it  will  be  less  harassing  to  yourself  to 
address  me  as  usual. 

May  God  long  preserve  to  you  the  domestic  treasures  you 
value ;  and  when  bereavement  at  last  comes,  may  He  give  you 
strength  to  bear  it, — Yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  327 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

January  und,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— Anne  really  did  seem  to  be  a  little  better 
during  some  mild  days  last  week,  but  to-day  she  looks  very  pale 
and  languid  again.  She  perseveres  with  the  cod-liver  oil,  but  still 
finds  it  very  nauseous.  She  is  truly  obliged  to  you  for  the  soles 
for  her  shoes,  and  finds  them  extremely  comfortable.  I  am  to 
commission  you  to  get  her  just  such  a  respirator  as  Mrs.  Heald 
had.  She  would  not  object  to  give  a  higher  price  if  you  thought 
it  better.  If  it  is  not  too  much  trouble,  you  may  likewise  get  me 
a  pair  of  soles  ;  you  can  send  them  and  the  respirator  when  you 
send  the  box.  You  must  put  down  the  price  of  all,  and  we  will 
pay  you  in  a  Post  Office  order.  Wuthering  Heights  was  given  to 
you.  Mary  Taylor's  address  I  have  always  written  c.o.  Mr.  Waring 
Taylor,  Wellington,  New  Zealand.  I  have  sent  her  neither  letter 
nor  parcel.  I  had  nothing  but  dreary  news  to  write,  so  preferred 
that  others  should  tell  her.  I  have  not  written  to  Ellen  Taylor 
either.  .  I  cannot  write,  except  when  I  am  quite  obliged.  Remem- 
ber me  to  all  at  Brookroyd.  Keep  well  if  you  can.  Be  careful. 
— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE, 

Letter  328 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

February  1st,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Anne  seems  so  tranquil  this  morning,  so  free 
from  pain  and  fever,  and  looks  and  speaks  so  like  herself  in  health, 
that  I  too  feel  relieved,  and  I  take  advantage  of  the  respite  to 
write  to  you,  hoping  that  my  letter  may  reflect  something  of  the 
comparative  peace  I  feel. 

Whether  my  hopes  are  quite  fallacious  or  not,  I  do  not  know ; 
but  sometimes  I  fancy  that  the  remedies  prescribed  bv  Mr.  Teale. 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    23 

and  approved — as  I  was  glad  to  learn — by  Dr.  Forbes,  are  work- 
ing a  good  result  Consumption,  I  am  aware,  is  a  flattering 
malady,  but  certainly  Anne's  illness  has  of  late  assumed  a  less 
alarming  character  than  it  had  in  the  beginning:  the  hectic  is 
allayed  ;  the  cough  gives  a  more  frequent  reprieve.  Could  I  but 
believe  she  would  live  two  years — a  year  longer,  I  should  be 
thankful :  I  dreaded  the  terrors  of  the  swift  messenger  which 
snatched  Emily  from  us,  as  it  seemed,  in  a  few  days. 

The  parcel  came  yesterday.  You  and  Mr.  Smith  do  nothing 
by  halves.  Neither  of  you  care  for  being  thanked,  so  I  will  keep 
my  gratitude  in  my  own  mind.  The  choice  of  books  is  perfect. 
Papa  is  at  this  moment  reading  Macaulay's  History,  which  he  had 
wished  to  see.  Anne  is  engaged  with  one  of  Frederika  Bremer's 
tales. 

I  wish  I  could  send  a  parcel  in  return ;  I  had  hoped  to  have 
had  one  by  this  time  ready  to  despatch.  When  I  saw  you  and 
Mr.  Smith  in  London,  I  little  thought  of  all  that  was  to  come 
between  July  and  Spring:  how  my  thoughts  were  to  be  caught 
away  from  imagination,  enlisted  and  absorbed  in  realities  the 
most  cruel. 

I  -will  tell  you  what  I  want  to  do ;  it  is  to  show  you  the  first 
volume  of  my  MS.,  which  I  have  copied.  In  reading  Mary 
Barton  (a  clever  though  painful  tale)  I  was  a  little  dismayed  to 
find  myself  in  some  measure  anticipated  both  in  subject  and 
incident.  I  should  like  to  have  your  opinion  on  this  point,  and 
to  know  whether  the  resemblance  appears  as  considerable  to  a 
stranger  as  it  does  to  myself.  I  should  wish  also  to  have  the 
benefit  of  such  general  strictures  and  advice  as  you  choose  to  give. 
Shall  I  therefore  send  the  MS.  when  I  return  the  first  batch  of 
books  ? 

But  remember,  if  I  show  it  to  you  it  is  on  two  conditions :  the 
first,  that  you  give  me  a  faithful  opinion — I  do  not  promise  to  be 
swayed  by  it,  but  I  should  like  to  have  it ;  the  second,  that  you 
show  it  and  speak  of  it  to  none  but  Mr.  Smith.  I  have  always  a 
great  horror  of  premature  announcements — they  may  do  harm 
and  can  never  do  good.  Mr.  Smith  must  be  so  kind  as  not  to 
mention  it  yet  in  his  quarterly  circulars.  All  human  affairs  are  so 
uncertain,  and  my  position  especially  is  at  present  so  peculiar, 
that  I  cannot  count  on  the  time,  and  would  rather  that  no  allusion 
should  be  made  to  a  work  of  which  great  part  is  yet  to  create. 

There  are  two  volumes  in  the  first  parcel  which,  having  seen,  I 


24  THE  BRONTES 

cannot  bring  myself  to  part  with,  and  must  beg  Mr.  Smith's  per- 
mission to  retain :  Mr.  Thackeray's  Journey  from  Cornhill,  etc., 
and  The  Testimony  to  the  Truth.  That  last  is  indeed  a  book  after 
my  own  heart  I  do  like  the  mind  it  discloses — it  is  of  a  fine  and 
high  order*  Alexander  Harris  may  be  a  clown  by  birth,  but  he 
is  a  nobleman  by  nature.  When  I  could  read  no  other  book,  I 
read  his  and  derived  comfort  from  it  No  matter  whether  or  not 
I  can  agree  in  all  his  views,  it  is  the  principles,  the  feelings,  the 
heart  of  the  man  I  admire. 

Write  soon  and  tell  me  whether  you  think  it  advisable  that  I 
should  send  the  MS.— Yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  329 

TO  W.  S,  WILLIAMS 

HAWORTH,  February  tfk,  1849. 

My  DEAR  SIR, — I  send  the  parcel  up  without  delay,  according 
to  your  request.  The  manuscript  has  all  its  errors  upon  it,  not 
having  been  read  through  since  copying.  I  have  kept  Madeline, 
along  with  the  two  other  books  I  mentioned  ;  I  shall  consider  it 
the  gift  of  Miss  Kavanagh,  and  shall  value  it  both  for  Its  literary 
excellence  and  for  the  modest  merit  of  the  given  We  already 
possess  Tennyson's  Poems  and  Our  Street.  Emerson's  Essays  I 
read  with  much  interest,  and  often  with  admiration,  but  they  are 
of  mixed  gold  and  clay — deep  and  invigorating  truth,  dreary  and 
depressing  fallacy  seem  to  me  combined  therein.  In  George 
Sorrow's  works  I  found  a  wild  fascination,  a  vivid  graphic  power 
of  description,  a  fresh  originality,  an  athletic  simplicity  (so  to 
speak),  which  give  them  a  stamp  of  their  own.  After  reading  his 
Bible  in  Spain  I  felt  as  if  I  had  actually  travelled  at  his  side,  and 
seen  the 'wild  Sil' rush  from  its  mountain  cradle;  wandered  in 
the  hilly  wilderness  of  the  Sierras ;  encountered  and  conversed 
with  Manehegan,  Castillian,  Andalusian,  Arragonese,  and,  above 
all,  with  the  savage  Gitanos. 

Your  mention  of  Mr.  Taylor  suggests  to  me  that  possibly  you 
and  Mr.  Smith  might  wish  him  to  share  the  little  secret  of  the 
MS.— that  exclusion  might  seem  invidious,  that  it  might  make 
yew  mutual  evening  chat  less  pleasant  If  so,  admit  him  to  the 
confidence  by  all  means.  He  is  attached  to  the  firm,  and  will  no 
doubt  keep  'jfeqt  secrets,  I  shall  be  glad  of  another  censor,  and  if 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    25 

a  severe  one,  so  much  the  better,  provided  he  is  also  just.  I  court 
the  keenest  criticism.  Far  rather  would  I  never  publish  more, 
than  publish  anything  inferior  to  my  first  effort.  Be  honest,  there- 
fore, all  three  of  you.  If  you  think  this  book  promises  less  favour- 
ably than/tf^  Eyre,  say  so  ;  it  is  but  trying  again,  i.e.  if  life  and 
health  be  spared. 

Anne  continues  a  little  better — the  mild  weather  suits  her.  At 
times  I  hear  the  renewal  of  hope's  whisper,  but  .1  dare  not  listen 
too  fondly;  she  deceived  me  cruelly  before.  A  sudden  change 
to  cold  would  be  the  test.  I  dread  such  change,  but  must  not 
anticipate.  Spring  lies  before  us,  and  then  summer — surely  we 
may  hope  a  little ! 

Anne  expresses  a  wish  to  see  the  notices  of  the  poems.  You 
had  better,  therefore,  send  them.  We  shall  expect  to  find  painful 
allusions  to  one  now  above  blame  and  beyond  praise ;  but  these 
must  be  borne.  For  ourselves,  we  are  almost  indifferent  to 
censure.  I  read  the  Quarterly  without  a  pang,  except  that  I 
thought  there  were  some  sentences  disgraceful  to  the  critic.  He 
seems  anxious  to  let  it  be  understood  that  he  is  a  person  well 
acquainted  with  the  habits  of  the  upper  classes.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  I  am  afraid  he  is  no  gentleman ;  and  moreover,  that  no 
training  could  make  him  such.  Many  a  poor  man,  born  and 
bred  to  labour,  would  disdain  that  reviewer's  cast  of  feeling. — 
Yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  330 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

WELLINGTON,  February  gth,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — You  will  think  it  ridiculous  in  me  to  begin  to  try 
and  persuade  you  to  come  out  to  N.Z,  after  all.  Still  more  when  I 
know  so  little  of  your  circumstances  as  I  do  just  now.  But  you 
must  not  laugh  at  me,  for  this  is  the  serious  purpose  of  my  letter,  I 
hear  from  Charlotte  Bronte  that  you  are  staying  in  Sussex.  What 
in  the  world  are  you  doing  there  ?  Getting  your  living  in  any  way  ? 
Not  at  all,  you  are  only  wishing  to  do  so  ;  wishing  for  something 
to  turn  up  that  would  enable  you  to  work  for  yourself  instead  of 
for  other  people,  and  that  no  one  should  know  that  you  were 
working.  Now  no  such  thing  exists.  There  are  no  means  for 
a  woman  to  live  in  England  but  by  teaching,  sewing,  or  washing. 


26  THE  BRONTES 

The  last  Is  the  best.  The  best  paid,  the  least  unhealthy,  and  the 
most  free.  But  it  is  not  paid  well  enough  to  live  by.  Moreover, 
it  is  impossible  for  any  one  not  born  to  this  position  to  take  it 
up  afterwards.  I  don't  know  why,  but  it  is.  You  might  as  well 
ask  why  one  can't  move  when  they  have  the  nightmare,  when 
they  know  very  well ! — the  stupid  things — that  they  need  only  just 
move  to  send  the  horror  away.  If  you  do  it  at  all  it  will  be  by 
making  a  desperate  plunge,  and  you  will  come  up  in  another 
world.  The  new  world  will  be  no  Paradise,  but  still  much  better 
than  the  nightmare.  Am  I  not  right  in  all  this?  and  don't  you 
know  it  very  well !  Or  am  I  shooting  in  the  dark  ?  I  must  say 
I  judge  rather  by  my  own  history  than  from  any  actual  know- 
ledge of  yours.  Still  you  yourself  must  judge,  for  no  one  else 
can.  What  in  the  world  keeps  you?  Try  and  persuade  some 
of  your  twenty  brothers  to  fit  you  out  for  N.  Zealand.  You 
could  get  your  living  here  at  any  of  the  trades  I  have  mentioned, 
which  you  would  only  die  of  in  England.  As  to  '  society '  position 
in  the  world,  you  must  have  found  by  this  time  it  is  all  my  eye 
seeking  society  without  the  means  to  enjoy  it.  Why  not  come 
here  then  and  be  happy  ? 

We  have  had  occurrences  here  nearly  as  startling  as  those  in 
Europe.  Lots  of  earthquakes — till  they  are  quite  commonplace. 
This  is  small  inducement,  but  what  do  you  think  of  our  sending 
back  a  subscription  raised  in  Auckland  for  us  because  we  actually 
had  no  destitute  to  give  it  to.  Aren't  we  thriving?  The  Maoris 
are  quiet,  and  we  begin  to  wish  for  another  disturbance  for  fear 
the  troops  should  leave  the  country. 

We  have  just  been  to  the  anniversary  races  and  amused  our- 
selves pretty  well  and  got  heartily  tired.  It  did  us  a  deal  of 
good,  however.  *We'  means  Mrs.  Knox,  all  the  children,  and 
her  married  daughter  Mrs.  Couper,  her  husband  and  stepdaughter. 
Miss  Couper  is  nearly  as  old  as  her  new  mama,  and  they  are  both 
so  girlish  that  they  agree  very  well  together.  Mr.  Couper  him- 
self is  coarse,  ugly,  selfish,  ignorant,  cunning,  and  dishonest,  and 
all  this  in  the  highest  degree ;  however,  that  only  concerns  his 
wife.  To  me  he  is  very  civil  because  he  has  the  idea  that  he 
gets  his  daughter  taught  music  very  cheap  when  he  gives  me 
board  and  lodging  for  teaching  her  when  she  has  time,  which  is 
only  half  an  hour  now  and  then.  To  be  sure,  I  pass  here  for  a 
monkey  who  has  seen  the  world,  and  people  receive  me  well  on 
that  account  I  wonder  what  good  it  does  them  to  have  the 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    27 

acquaintance  of  a  person  that  speaks  French?     They  don't  want 
to  learn  it. 

I  once  thought  of  delaying  this  letter  until  Ellen  Taylor  came, 
but  I  am  in  doubt  as  to  whether  she  is  on  the  way  or  not,  and  if 
she  comes  I  shall  not  have  so  much  time  for  writing  as  I  have 
just  now.  She  will  be  quite  an  acquisition  to  me  if  she  comes. 
I  speak  of  it  so  much  that  the  children  rouse  me  in  the  morning, 
with  '  Miss  Taylor,  here  are  your  cousins  come ! ' 

Mrs.  Taylor  got  a  little  daughter  a  month  ago.  Waring  is 
going  to  build  a  new  house.  As  the  chimneys  of  the  present  one 
were  entirely  shaken  down  by  the  earthquake,  it  is  just  ready  for 
moving  back.  He  will  put  two  new  rooms  in  front  two  stories 
high ;  one  will  be  a  store  and  one  a  parlour.  Two-fifths  if  not 
half  the  houses  in  Wellington  were  shaken  down  by  the  earth- 
quake, and  the  town  is  vastly  improved  in  consequence.  Almost 
everybody  is  building.  We  think  nothing  of  what  we  have  lost 
because  no  one  was  ruined.  At  least  only  one  man  whose  house 
was  entirely  destroyed.  He  was  a  doctor,  and  got  such  a  fright, 
he  resolved  to  go  to  Sydney.  The  vessel  he  was  in  was  wrecked 
just  outside  Wellington  harbour,  and  he  brought  his  family 
back  again  to  Wellington,  having  lost  everything  on  the  wreck. 
Fortunately  a  box  was  picked  up  with  his  money  in,  and  he  took 
his  passage  for  Sydney  as  soon  as  possible.  He  is  now  on  his 
way  to  England. 

I  have  just  written  an  account  of  my  present  condition  and 
prospects  three  times  over.  I  therefore  recommend  you  to  ask 
C.  Bronte  for  an  abstract  of  it,  for  it  is  so  dull  telling  the  same 
tale  so  often,  I  should  perhaps  be  inventing  something  for  a 
change  if  I  were  to  write  all  the  history  over  again. 

You  have  never  followed  the  advice  I  sent  you  to  send  some- 
thing out  to  sell.  When  I  received  your  parcel  of  collars  I 
thought  they  were  for  sale,  and  as  they  were  the  height  of  the 
fashion  here  I  should  have  sold  them  very  well.  As  it  is,  I  wear 
them  and  get  envied.  The  thick  one  with  lace  round  I  sometimes 
ride  in,  and  tell  every  one  that  I  have  two  friends  in  England 
wearing  the  same.  I  wish  I  could  say  I  had  them  over  here. 
You  will  think  that  my  persuasions  for  you  to  come  here  are  like 
those  of  the  fox  who  had  lost  his  tail.  They  are  certainly  selfish, 
but  not  entirely  so.  Wherever  you  are,  always  believe  me, — 
Your  sincere  friend,  MARY  TAYLOR. 

(On  small  black  wafer)  Dim  vous  garde. 


28  THE  BRONTES 


Letter  331 

TO   ELLEN  NUSSEY 

February  \6th,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — We  received  the  box  and  its  contents  quite 
safely  to-day.  The  penwipers  are  very  pretty,  and  we  are  very 
much  obliged  to  you  for  them.  I  hope  the  respirator  will  be 
useful  to  Anne,  in  case  she  should  ever  be  well  enough  to  go  out 
again.  She  continues  very  much  in  the  same  state,  I  trust  not 
greatly  worse,  though  she  is  becoming  very  thin.  I  fear  it  would 
be  only  self-delusion  to  fancy  her  better.  What  effect  the 
advancing  season  may  have  on  her,  I  know  not;  perhaps  the 
return  of  really  warm  weather  may  give  nature  a  happy  stimulus. 
I  tremble  at  the  thought  of  any  change  to  cold  wind  or  frost. 
Would  that  March  were  well  over!  Her  mind  seems  generally 
serene,  and  her  sufferings  hitherto  are  nothing  like  Emily's.  The 
thought  of  what  may  be  to  come  grows  more  familiar  to  my 
mind ;  but  it  is  a  sad,  dreary  guest.  Papa  is  much  better  than 
when  you  were  here.  I  am  glad  Miss  Ringrose  is  come  to  you 
at  last.  With  her  I  know  you  will  be  happier,  and  for  that  reason 
I  always  feel  content  to  know  she  is  at  Brookroyd.  Last  Sunday 
I  got  a  short  note  from  Ellen  Taylor  written  in  London,  they 
had  been  in  town  waiting  for  the  vessel  to  sail  a  fortnight.  They 
expected  to  be  off  that  day.  Joe  Taylor  had  left  them  a  week 
ago.  She  and  Henry  were  quite  alone,  poor  things  !  She  wrote 
in  pretty  good  spirits.  Give  my  love  to  your  mother,  Ann, 
Mercy,  and  Miss  Ringrose.  My  note  is  short  because  writing  is 
a  task  to  me.  Anne  sends  her  thanks  and  kind  love  to  you,  so 
do  I. — Faithfully  yours,  C.  B. 

We  are  introduced  in  the  next  letter  to  a  new  corre- 
spondent. Mr.  Taylor  held  an  important  post  in  the  firm  of 
Smith  &  Elder,  and  was  ultimately  taken  into  partnership 
so  far  as  the  India  branch  was  concerned.  He  was  small 
and  red-haired.  There  are  two  portraits  of  him  before  me. 
They  indicate  a  determined,  capable  man,  thick-set,  well 
bearded ;  on  the  whole  a  vigorous  and  interesting  per- 
sonality. In  any  case,  Mr.  Taylor  lost  his  heart  to 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    29 

Charlotte,  and  was  much  more  persistent  than  earlier 
lovers.  He  had  also  the  advantage  of  Mr.  Bronte's 
goodwill.  This  is  all  there  is  to  add  to  the  letters 
themselves,  but  I  may  as  well  say  here  that  he  went 
out  to  India,  and  that  when  he  returned  to  England  in 
1856  Charlotte  Bronte  was  dead.  His  after  life  was  more 
successful  than  happy.  He  did  not,  it  is  true,  succeed  in 
Bombay  with  the  firm  of  Smith,  Taylor  and  Co.  That 
would  seem  to  have  collapsed.  But  he  made  friends  in 
Bombay  and  returned  there  in  1863  as  editor  of  the 
Bombay  Gazette  and  the  Bombay  Quarterly  Review.  A 
little  later  he  became  editor  of  the  Bombay  Saturday 
Review,  which  had  not,  however,  a  long  career.  Mr. 
Taylor's  successes  were  not  journalistic  but  mercantile. 
As  Secretary  of  the  Bombay  Chamber  of  Commerce,  which 
appointment  he  obtained  in  1865,  he  obtained  much  real 
distinction.  To  this  post  he  added  that  of  Registrar  of 
the  University  of  Bombay  and  many  other  offices.  He 
was  elected  Sheriff  in  1874,  in  which  year  he  died.  An 
imposing  funeral  ceremony  took  place  in  the  Cathedral, 
and  he  was  buried  in  the  Bombay  cemetery,  where  his 
tomb  may  be  found  to  the  left  of  the  entrance  gates, 
inscribed — 

JAMES  TAYLOR.     DIED  APRIL  29,  1874,  AGED  57. 

He  married  during  his  visit  to  England,  but  the  marriage 
was  not  a  happy  one.  That  does  not  belong  to  the 
present  story.  Here,  however,  is  a  cutting  from  the 
Times  marriage  record  in  1863 : — 

On  the  asrd  inst,  at  the  Church  of  St.  John  the  Evangelist, 
St  Pancras,  by  the  Rev.  James  Moorhouse,  M.A.,  James  Taylor, 
Esq.,  of  Furnivars-lnn,  and  Bombay,  to  Annie,  widow  of  Adolph 
Ritter,  of  Vienna,  and  stepdaughter  of  Thos«  Harrison,  Esq.,  of 
Birchanger  Place,  Essex. 


30  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  332 

TO  JAMES  TAYLOR,  CORNHILL 

March  ist,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — The  parcel  arrived  on  Saturday  evening. 
Permit  me  to  express  my  sense  of  the  judgment  and  kindness 
which  have  dictated  the  selection  of  its  contents.  They  appear 
to  be  all  good  books,  and  good  books  are,  we  know,  the  best 
substitute  for  good  society;  if  circumstances  debar  me  from  the 
latter  privilege,  the  kind  attentions  of  my  friends  supply  me  with 
ample  measure  of  the  former. 

Thank  you  for  your  remarks  on  Shirley.  Some  of  your  strictures 
tally  with  some  by  Mr.  Williams.  You  both  complain  of  the 
want  of  distinctness  and  impressiveness  in  my  heroes.  Probably 
you  are  right.  In  delineating  male  character  I  labour  under  dis- 
advantages :  intuition  and  theory  will  not  always  adequately  supply 
the  place  of  observation  and  experience.  When  I  write  about 
women  I  am  sure  of  my  ground — in  the  other  case,  I  am  not  so  sure. 

Here,  then,  each  of  you  has  laid  the  critical  finger  on  a  point 
that  by  its  shrinking  confesses  its  vulnerability ;  whether  the 
disapprobation  you  intimate  respecting  the  Briarchapel  scenes, 
the  curates,  etc.,  be  equally  merited,  time  will  show.  I  am 
well  aware  what  will  be  the  author's  present  meed  for  these 
passages :  I  anticipate  general  blame  and  no  praise.  And  were 
my  motive-principle  in  writing  a  thirst  for  popularity,  or  were  the 
chief  check  on  my  pen  a  dread  of  censure,  I  should  withdraw 
these  scenes — or  rather,  I  should  never  have  written  them.  I  will 
not  say  whether  the  considerations  that  really  govern  me  are 
sound,  or  whether  my  convictions  are  just ;  but  such  as  they  are, 
to  their  influence  I  must  yield  submission,  They  forbid  me  to 
sacrifice  truth  to  the  fear  of  blame.  I  accept  their  prohibition. 

With  the  sincere  expression  of  my  esteem  for  the  candour  by 
which  your  critique  is  distinguished, — I  am,  my  dear  sir,  yours 
sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  333 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

March  2#aT,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — My  sister  still  continues  better :  she  has  less 
languor  and  weakness;  her  spirits  are  improved.  This  change 
gives  cause,  I  think,  both  for  gratitude  and  hope. 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    31 

I  am  glad  that  you  and  Mr.  Smith  like  the  commencement  of 
my  present  work.  I  wish  it  were  more  than  a  commencement ;  for 
how  it  will  be  reunited  after  the  long  break,  or  how  it  can  gather 
force  of  flow  when  the  current  has  been  checked  or  rather  drawn 
off  so  long,  I  know  not 

I  sincerely  thank  you  both  for  the  candid  expression  of  your 
objections.  What  you  say  with  reference  to  the  first  chapter  shall 
be  duly  weighed.  At  present  I  feel  reluctant  to  withdraw  it, 
because,  as  I  formerly  said  of  the  Lowood  parr  of  Jane  Eyre,  it  is 
true.  The  curates  and  their  ongoings  are  merely  photographed 
from  the  life.  I  should  like  you  to  explain  to  me  more  fully  the 
ground  of  your  objections.  Is  it  because  you  think  this  chapter 
will  render  the  work  liable  to  severe  handling  by  the  press  ?  Is  it 
because  knowing  as  you  now  do  the  identity  of  '  Currer  Bell,'  this 
scene  strikes  you  as  unfeminine  ?  Is  it  because  it  Is  intrinsically 
defective  and  inferior  ?  I  am  afraid  the  two  first  reasons  would 
not  weigh  with  me — the  last  would. 

Anne  and  I  thought  it  very  kind  in  you  to  preserve  all  the 
notices  of  the  Poems  so  carefully  for  us.  Some  of  them,  as  you 
said,  were  well  worth  reading.  We  were  glad  to  find  that  our  old 
friend  the  Critic  has  again  a  kind  word  for  us.  I  was  struck  with 
one  curious  fact,  viz.,  that  four  of  the  notices  are  facsimiles  of  each 
other.  How  does  this  happen  ?  I  suppose  they  copy. 

Your  generous  indignation  against  the  Quarterly  touched  me. 
But  do  not  trouble  yourself  to  be  angry  on  Currer  Bell's  account ; 
except  where  the  May- Fair  gossip  and  Mr.  Thackeray's  name , 
were  brought  in  he  was  never  stung  at  all,  but  he  certainly 
thought  that  passage  and  one  or  two  others  quite  unwarrantable. 
However,  slander  without  a  germ  of  truth  is  seldom  injurious  :  it 
resembles  a  rootless  plant  and  must  soon  wither  away. 

The  critic  would  certainly  be  a  little  ashamed  of  herself  if  she 
knew  what  foolish  blunders  she  had  committed,  if  she  were  aware 
how  completely  Mr.  Thackeray  and  Currer  Bell  are  strangers  to 
each  other,  that  Jane  Eyre  was  written  before  the  author  had  seen 
one  line  of  Vanity  Fair^  or  that  if  C.  Bell  had  known  that  there 
existed  in  Mr,  Thackeray's  private  circumstances  the  shadow  of 
a  reason  for  fancying  personal  allusion,  so  far  from  dedicating  the 
book  to  that  gentleman,  he  would  have  regarded  such  a  step  as 
ill-judged,  insolent,  and  indefensible,  and  would  have  shunned  it 
accordingly. — Believe  me,  my  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely, 

C  BRONTJL 


32  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  334 

TO   W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

March  377?,  1849, 

MY  DEAR  SIR,— Hitherto,  I  have  always  forgotten  to  acknow- 
ledge the  receipt  of  the  parcel  from  Cornhill.  It  came  at  a  time 
when  I  could  not  open  it  nor  think  of  it :  its  contents  are  still  a 
mystery.  I  will  not  taste,  till  I  can  enjoy  them.  I  looked  at  it 
the  other  day.  It  reminded  me  too  sharply  of  the  time  when  the 
first  parcel  arrived  last  October:  Emily  was  then  beginning  to  be 
ill — the  opening  of  the  parcel  and  examination  of  the  books 
cheered  her ;  their  perusal  occupied  her  for  many  a  weary  day. 
The  very  evening  before  her  last  morning  dawned  I  read  to  her 
one  of  Emerson's  essays.  I  read  on,  till  I  found  she  was  not 
listening — I  thought  to  recommence  next  day.  Next  day,  the 
first  glance  at  her  face  told  me  what  would  happen  before  night- 
fall. C  BRONTE. 

Letter  335 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

March  8££,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Anne's  state  has  apparently  varied  very  little 
during  the  last  fortnight  or  three  weeks.  I  wish  I  could  say  she 
gains  either  flesh,  strength,  or  appetite,  but  there  is  no  progress 
on  these  points,  nor  I  hope,  as  far  as  regards  the  two  last  at  least, 
.any  falling  off;  she  is  piteously  thin.  Her  cough,  and  the  pain 
in  her  side  continue  the  same. 

I  write  these  few  lines  that  you  may  not  think  my  continued 
silence  strange ;  anything  like  frequent  correspondence  I  cannot 
keep  up  and  you  must  excuse  me.  I  trust  you  and  Miss  Ring- 
rose  and  all  at  Brookroyd  are  happy  and  well.  Give  my  love  to 
your  mother  and  all  the  rest,  and  believe  me,  yours  sincerely, 

C  BRONTE. 

Letter  336 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

March  nth,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — My  sister  has  been  something  worse  since  I 
wrote  last  We  have  had  nearly  a  week  of  frost,  and  the  change 
has  tried  her,  as  I  feared  it  would  do,  though  not  so  severely  as 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    33 

former  experience  had  led  me  to  apprehend.  I  am  thankful  to 
say  she  is  now  again  a  little  better.  Her  state  of  mind  is  usually 
placid,  and  her  chief  sufferings  consist  in  the  harassing  cough  and 
a  sense  of  languor. 

I  ought  to  have  acknowledged  the  safe  arrival  of  the  parcel 
before  now,  but  I  put  it  off  from  day  to  day,  fearing  I  should 
write  a  sorrowful  letter.  A  similar  apprehension  induces  me  to 
abridge  this  note. 

Believe  me  whether  in  happiness  or  the  contrary,  yours  sin- 
cerely, C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  337 

TO   LyETITIA  WHEELWRIGHT1 

HAWORTH,  March  152$,  1849. 

DEAR  L^ETITIA, — I  have  not  quite  forgotten  you  through  the 
winter,  but  I  have  remembered  you  only  like  some  pleasant 
waking  idea  struggling  through  a  dreadful  dream.  You  say  my 
last  letter  was  dated  September  I4th.  You  ask  how  I  have 
passed  the  time  since.  What  has  happened  to  me?  Why  have 
I  been  silent  ? 

It  is  soon  told. 

On  the  24th  of  September  my  only  brother,  after  being  long  in 
weak  health,  and  latterly  consumptive — though  we  were  far  from 
apprehending  immediate  danger — died,  quite  suddenly  as  it 
seemed  to  us.  He  had  been  out  two  days  before.  The  shock 
was  great  Ere  he  could  be  interred  I  fell  ill.  A  low  nervous 
fever  left  me  very  weak.  As  I  was  slowly  recovering,  my  sister 
Emily,  whom  you  knew,  was  seized  with  inflammation  of  the 
lungs ;  suppuration  took  place ;  two  agonising  months  of  hopes 
and  fears  followed,  and  on  the  iQth  of  December  she  died. 

She  was  scarcely  cold  In  her  grave  when  Anne,  my  youngest 
and  last  sister,  who  has  been  delicate  all  her  life,  exhibited 
symptoms  that  struck  us  with  acute  alarm.  We  sent  for  the  first 
advice  that  could  be  procured.  She  was  examined  with  the 
stethoscope,  and  the  dreadful  fact  was  announced  that  her  lungs 
too  were  affected,  and  that  tubercular  consumption  had  already 
made  considerable  progress.  A  system  of  treatment  was  pre- 
scribed, which  has  since  been  ratified  by  the  opinion  of  Dr. 
Forbes,  whom  your  papa  will,  I  dare  say,  know.  I  hope  it  has 
1  The  friend  of  Brussels  days  who  still  lives  in  Bays  water. 

VOL.  II.  C 


34  THE  BRONTES 

somewhat  delayed  disease.  She  is  now  a  patient  invalid,  and  I 
am  her  nurse.  God  has  hitherto  supported  me  in  some  sort 
through  all  these  bitter  calamities,  and  my  father,  I  am  thankful 
to  say,  has  been  wonderfully  sustained  ;  but  there  have  been 
hours,  days,  weeks  of  inexpressible  anguish  to  undergo,  and  the 
cloud  of  impending  distress  still  lowers  dark  and  sullen  above  us, 
I  cannot  write  much.  I  can  only  pray  Providence  to  preserve 
you  and  yours  from  such  affliction  as  He  has  seen  good  to 
accumulate  on  me  and  mine. 

With  best  regards  to  your  dear  mamma  and  all  your  circle, — 
Believe  me,  yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE, 


Letter  338 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

March  ibth,  '49. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— I  must  write  a  line  in  acknowledgment  of  your 
last  letter  and  tell  you  how  Anne  is  getting  on.  We  have  found 
the  past  week  a  somewhat  trying  one ;  it  has  not  been  cold,  but 
still  there  have  been  changes  of  temperature  whose  effect  Anne 
has  felt  unfavourably.  She  is  not,  I  trust,  seriously  worse,  but  her 
cough  is  at  times  very  hard  and  painful,  and  her  strength  rather 
diminished  than  improved.  I  wish  the  month  of  May  was  well 
over.  You  are  right  in  conjecturing  that  I  am  somewhat  de- 
pressed. At  times  I  certainly  am.  It  was  almost  easier  to  bear  up 
when  the  trial  was  at  its  crisis  than  now.  The  feeling  of  Emily's 
loss  does  not  diminish  as  time  wears  on;  it  often  makes  itself 
most  acutely  recognised.  It  brings  too  an  inexpressible  sorrow 
with  it;  and  then  the  future  is  dark.  Yet  I  am  well  aware,  it 
will  not  do  either  to  complain,  or  sink,  and  I  strive  to  do  neither. 
Strength,  I  hope  and  trust,  will  yet  be  given  in  proportion  to  the 
burden ;  but  the  pain  of  my  position  is  not  one  likely  to  lessen 
with  habit  Its  solitude  and  isolation  are  oppressive  circum- 
stances, yet  I  do  not  wish  for  any  friends  to  stay  with  me;  I 
could  not  do  with  any  one — not  even  j/0# — to  share  the  sadness  of 
the  house ;  it  would  rack  me  intolerably.  Meantime,  judgment 
is  blent  with  mercy,  Anne's  sufferings  still  continue  mild.  It  is 
my  nature,  when  left  alone,  to  struggle  on  with  a  certain  persever- 
ance, and  I  believe  God  will  help  me. — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE          35 

Letter  339 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  March  24^,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  MISS  WOOLER, — I  have  delayed  answering  your 
letter  in  the  faint  hope  that  I  might  be  able  to  reply  favourably 
to  your  inquiries  after  my  sister's  health.  This,  however,  is  not 
permitted  me  to  do.  Her  decline  is  gradual  and  fluctuating,  but 
its  nature  is  not  doubtful  The  symptoms  of  cough,  pain  in  the 
side  and  chest,  wasting  of  flesh,  strength,  and  appetite,  after  the 
sad  experience  we  have  had,  cannot  but  be  regarded  by  us  as 
equivocal. 

In  spirit  she  is  resigned ;  at  heart  she  is,  I  believe,  a  true 
Christian.  She  looks  beyond  this  life,  and  regards  her  home  and 
rest  as  elsewhere  than  on  earth.  May  God  support  her  and  all 
of  us  through  the  trial  of  lingering  sickness,  and  aid  her  in  the 
last  hour  when  the  struggle  which  separates  soul  from  body  must 
be  gone  through  I 

We  saw  Emily  torn  from  the  midst  of  us  when  our  hearts 
clung  to  her  with  intense  attachment,  and  when,  loving  each 
other  as  we  did — well,  it  seemed  as  if  (might  we  but  have  been 
spared  to  each  other)  we  could  have  found  complete  happiness 
in  our  mutual  society  and  affection.  She  was  scarcely  buried 
when  Anne's  health  failed,  and  we  were  warned  that  consumption 
had  found  another  victim  in  her,  and  that  it  would  be  vain  to 
reckon  on  her  life. 

These  things  would  be  too  much  if  Reason,  unsupported  by 
Religion,  were  condemned  to  bear  them  alone.  I  have  cause 
to  be  most  thankful  for  the  strength  which  has  hitherto  been 
vouchsafed  both  to  my  father  and  myself.  God,  I  think,  is 
specially  merciful  to  old  age ;  and  for  my  own  part,  trials  which 
in  prospective  would  have  seemed  to  me  quite  intolerable,  when 
they  actually  came,  I  endured  without  prostration.  Yet,  I  must 
confess,  that  in  the  time  which  has  elapsed  since  Emily's  death 
there  have  been  moments  of  solitary,  deep,  inert  affliction,  far 
harder  to  bear  than  those  which  immediately  followed  our  loss. 
The  crisis  of  bereavement  has  an  acute  pang  which  goads  to 
exertion,  the  desolate  after-feeling  sometimes  paralyses, 

I  have  learned  that  we  are  not  to  find  solace  in  our  own 
strength:  we  must  seek  it  in  God's  omnipotence.  Fortitude  is 


36  THE  BRONTES 

good,  but  fortitude  itself  must  be  shaken  under  us  to  teach  us 
how  weak  we  are. 

With  best  wishes  to  yourself  and  all  dear  to  you,  and  sincere 
thanks  for  the  interest  you  so  kindly  continue  to  take  in  me  and 
my  sister, — -Believe  me,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  340 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

March  2gtk,  '49. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  read  your  kind  note  to  Anne,  and  she  wishes 
me  to  thank  you  sincerely  for  your  friendly  proposal.     She  feels, 
of  course,  that  it  would  not  do  to  take  advantage  of  it,  by  quarter- 
ing an  invalid  upon  the  inmates  of  Brookroyd ;  but  she  intimates 
there  is  another  way  in  which  you  might  serve  her,  perhaps  with 
some  benefit  to  yourself  as  well  as  to  her.     Should  it,  a  month 
or  two  hence,  be  deemed  advisable  that  she  should  go  either  to 
the  seaside  or  to  some  inland  watering-place,  and  should  papa 
be  disinclined  to  move,  and  I  consequently  obliged  to  remain  at 
home,  she  asks,  could  you  be  her  companion  ?     Of  course  I  need 
not  add  that  in  case  of  such  an  arrangement  being  made,  you 
would  be  put  to  no  expense.     This,  dear  Ellen,  is  Anne's  pro- 
posal ;  I  make  it  to  comply  with  her  wish ;  but  for  my  own  part, 
I  must  add  that  I  see  serious  objections  to  your  accepting  it, 
objections  I  cannot  name  to  her.     She  continues  to  vary;  is 
sometimes  worse,  and  sometimes  better,  as  the  weather  changes, 
but  on  the  whole  I  fear  she  loses  strength.    Papa  says  her  state 
is  most  precarious ;  she  may  be  spared  for  some  time,  or  a  sudden 
alteration  might  remove  her  ere  we  are  aware.     Were  such  an 
alteration  to  take  place  while  she  was  far  from  home,  and  alone 
with  you,  it  would  be  too  terrible.     The  idea  of  it  distresses  me 
inexpressibly,  and  I  tremble  whenever  she  alludes  to  the  project 
of  a  journey.     In  short,  I  wish  we  could  gain  time,  and  see  how 
she  gets  on.    If  she  leaves  home,  it  certainly  should  not  be  in  the 
capricious  month  of  May,  which  is  proverbially  trying  to  the 
weak.    June  would  be  a  safer  month.     If  we  could  reach  June, 
I  should  have  good  hopes  of  her  getting  through  the  summer. 
Write  such  an  answer  to  this  note  as  I  can  show  Anne.    You 
can  write  any  additional  remarks  to  me  on  a  separate  piece  of 
paper.    D0  not  regard  yourself  as  confined  to  discussing  only 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    37 

our  sad  affairs.     I  am  interested  in  all  that  interests  you.     Love 
to  your  mother,  sisters,  and  Miss  Ringrose. — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  B. 

Letter  341 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

April znd)  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — My  critics  truly  deserve  and  have  my  genuine 
thanks  for  the  friendly  candour  with  which  they  have  declared 
their  opinions  on  my  book.  Both  Mr.  Williams  and  Mr.  Taylor 
express  and  support  their  opinions  in  a  manner  calculated  to 
command  careful  consideration.  In  my  turn  I  have  a  word  to 
say.  You  both  of  you  dwell  too  much  on  what  you  regard  as 
the  artistic  treatment  of  a  subject.  Say  what  you  will,  gentle- 
men— say  it  as  ably  as  you  will — truth  is  better  than  art.  Burns' 
Songs  are  better  than  Bulwer's  Epics.  Thackeray's  rude,  care- 
less sketches  are  preferable  to  thousands  of  carefully  finished 
paintings.  Ignorant  as  I  am,  I  dare  to  hold  and  maintain  that 
doctrine. 

You  must  not  expect  me  to  give  up  Malone  and  Donne  too 
suddenly — the  pair  are  favourites  with  me ;  they  shine  with  a 
chastened  and  pleasing  lustre  in  that  first  chapter,  and  it  is  a  pity 
you  do  not  take  pleasure  in  their  modest  twinkle.  Neither'  is 
that  opening  scene  irrelevant  to  the  rest  of  the  book,  there  are 
other  touches  in  store  which  will  harmonise  with  it. 

No  doubt  this  handling  of  the  surplice  will  stir  up  such  publica- 
tions as  the  Christian  Remembrancer  and  the  Quarterly — those 
heavy  Goliaths  of  the  periodical  press ;  and  if  I  alone  were  con- 
cerned, this  possibility  would  not  trouble  me  a  second.  Full 
welcome  would  the  giants  be  to  stand  in  their  greaves  of  brass, 
poising  their  ponderous  spears,  cursing  their  prey  by  their  gods, 
and  thundering  invitations  to  the  intended  victim  to  ccome  forth1 
and  have  his  flesh  given  to  the  fowls  of  the  air  and  the  beasts  of 
the  field.  Currer  Bell,  without  pretending  to  be  a  David,  feels 
no  awe  of  the  unwieldy  Anakim  ;  but — comprehend  me  rightly, 
gentlemen — it  would  grieve  him  to  involve  others  in  blame :  any 
censure  that  would  really  injure  and  annoy  his  piiblishers  would 
wound  himself.  Therefore  believe  that  he  will  not  act  rashly- 
trust  his  discretion. 

Mr.  Taylor  is  right  about  the  bad  taste  of  the  opening  apos- 


38  THE  BRONTES 

trophe — that  I  had  already  condemned  in  my  own  mind.  Enough 
said  of  a  work  in  embryo.  Permit  me  to  request  in  conclusion 
that  the  MS.  may  now  be  returned  as  soon  as  convenient. 

The  letter  you  enclosed  is  from  Mary  Howitt  It  contained 
a  proposal  for  an  engagement  as  contributor  to  an  American 
periodical.  Of  course  I  have  negatived  it.  When  I  can  write, 
the  book  I  have  in  hand  must  claim  all  my  attention.  Oh !  if 
Anne  were  well,  if  the  void  Death  has  left  were  a  little  closed  up, 
if  the  dreary  word  nevermore  would  cease  sounding  in  my  ears,  I 
think  I  could  yet  do  something. 

It  is  a  long  time  since  you  mentioned  your  own  family  affairs. 
I  trust  Mrs.  Williams  continues  well,  and  that  Fanny  and  your 
other  children  prosper. — Yours  sincerely.  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  342 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

April  $th>  1849. 

MY  DEAR  MISS  NUSSEY, — I  thank  you  greatly  for  your  kind 
letter,  and  your  ready  compliance  with  my  proposal  as  far  as  the 
will  can  go  at  least.  I  see,  however,  that  your  friends  are  un- 
willing that  you  should  undertake  the  responsibility  of  accom- 
panying me  under  present  circumstances.  But  I  do  not  think 
there  would  be  any  great  responsibility  in  the  matter.  I  know, 
and  everybody  knows,  that  you  would  be  as  kind  and  helpful  as 
any  one  could  possibly  be,  and  I  hope  I  should  not  be  very 
troublesome.  It  would  be  as  a  companion,  not  as  a  nurse,  that 
I  should  wish  for  your  company;  otherwise  I  should  not  venture 
to  ask  it.  As  for  your  kind  and  often  repeated  invitation  to 
Brookroyd,  pray  give  my  sincere  thanks  to  your  mother  and 
sisters,  but  tell  them  I  could  not  think  of  inflicting  my  presence 
upon  them  as  I  now  am.  It  is  very  kind  of  them  to  make  so 
light  of  the  trouble,  but  still  there  must  be  more  or  less,  and 
certainly  no  pleasure,  from  the  society  of  a  silent  invalid  stranger. 
I  hope,  however,  that  Charlotte  will  by  some  means  make  it 
possible  to  accompany  me  after  all.  She  is  certainly  very  delicate, 
and  greatly  needs  a  change  of  air  and  scene  to  renovate  her  con- 
stitution. And  then  your  going  with  me  before  the  end  of  May 
Is  apparently  out  of  the  question,  unless  you  are  disappointed  in 
your  visitors ;  but  I  should  be  reluctant  to  wait  till  then  if  the 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    39 

weather  would  at  all  permit  an  earlier  departure.  You  say  May 
is  a  trying  month,  and  so  say  others.  The  early  part  Is  often 
cold  enough,  I  acknowledge,  but  according  to  my  experience,  we 
are  almost  certain  of  some  fine  warm  days  in  the  latter  half,  when 
the  laburnums  and  lilacs  are  in  bloom;  whereas  June  is  often 
cold,  and  July  generally  wet.  But  I  have  a  more  serious  reason 
than  this  for  my  impatience  of  delay.  The  doctors  say  that 
change  of  air  or  removal  to  a  better  climate  would  hardly  ever 
fail  of  success  in  consumptive  cases,  if  the  remedy  be  taken  in 
time\  but  the  reason  why  there  are  so  many  disappointments  is 
that  it  is  generally  deferred  till  it  is  too  late.  Now  I  would  not 
commit  this  error ;  and,  to  say  the  truth,  though  I  suffer  much 
less  from  pain  and  fever  than  I  did  when  you  were  with  us,  I 
am  decidedly  weaker,  and  very  much  thinner.  My  cough  still 
troubles  me  a  good  deal,  especially  in  the  night,  and,  what  seems 
worse  than  all,  I  am  subject  to  great  shortness  of  breath  on  going 
up  stairs  or  any  slight  exertion.  Under  these  circumstances,  I 
think  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  I  have  no  horror  of  death :  if 
I  thought  it  inevitable,  I  think  I  could  quietly  resign  myself  to 
the  prospect,  in  the  hope  that  you,  dear  Miss  Nussey,  would  give 
as  much  of  your  company  as  you  possibly  could  to  Charlotte,  and 
be  a  sister  to  her  in  my  stead.  But  I  wish  it  would  please  God 
to  spare  me  not  only  for  papa's  and  Charlotte's  sakes,  but  because 
I  long  to  do  some  good  in  the  world  before  I  leave  it.  I  have 
many  schemes  in  my  head  for  future  practice,  humble  and  limited 
indeed,  but  still  I  should  not  like  them  all  to  come  to  nothing, 
and  myself  to  have  lived  to  so  little  purpose.  But  God's  will  be 
done.  Remember  me  respectfully  to  your  mother  and  sisters, 
and  believe  me,  dear  Miss  Nussey,  yours  most  affectionately, 

ANNE  BRONTE. 

Letter  343 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

April  5^,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Your  note  was  very  welcome.  I  purposely 
impose  on  myself  the  restraint  of  writing  to  you  seldom  now, 
because  I  know  but  too  well  my  letters  cannot  be  cheering.  Yst 
I  confess  I  am  glad  when  the  post  brings  me  a  letter :  it  reminds 
me  that  if  the  sun  of  action  and  life  does  not  shine  on  us,  it  yet 
beams  full  on  other  parts  of  the  world — and  I  like  the  recollection. 


40  THE  BRONTES 

I  am  not  going  to  complain.  Anne  has  indeed  suffered  much 
at  intervals  since  I  last  wrote  you— frost  and  east  wind  have  had 
their  effect  She  has  passed  nights  of  sleeplessness  and  pain,  and 
days  of  depression  and  languor  which  nothing  could  cheer — but 
still,  with  the  return  of  genial  weather  she  revives.  I  cannot 
perceive  that  she  is  feebler  now  than  she  was  a  month  ago,  though 
that  is  not  saying  much.  It  proves,  however,  that  no  rapid  pro- 
cess of  destruction  is  going  on  in  her  frame,  and  keeps  alive  a 
hope  that  with  the  renovating  aid  of  summer  she  may  yet  be 
spared  a  long  time. 

What  you  tell  me  of  Mr.  Lewes  seems  to  me  highly  charac- 
teristic. How  sanguine,  versatile,  and  self-confident  must  that 
man  be  who  can  with  ease  exchange  the  quiet  sphere  of  the 
author  for  the  bustling  one  of  the  actor !  I  heartily  wish  him 
success ;  and,  in  happier  times,  there  are  few  things  I  should  have 
relished  more  than  an  opportunity  of  seeing  him  in  his  new 
character. 

The  Cornhill  books  are  still  our  welcome  and  congenial  resource 
when  Anne  is  well  enough  to  enjoy  reading.  Carlyle's  Miscellanies 
interest  me  greatly.  We  have  read  The  Emigrant  Family,  The 
characters  in  the  work  are  good,  full  of  quiet  truth  and  nature,  and 
the  local  colouring  is  excellent ;  yet  I  can  hardly  call  it  a  good 
novel.  Reflective,  truth-loving,  and  even  elevated  as  is  Alexander 
Harris's  mind,  I  should  say  he  scarcely  possesses  the  creative 
faculty  in  sufficient  vigour  to  excel  as  a  writer  of  fiction.  He 
creates  nothing — he  only  copies.  His  characters  are  portraits — 
servilely  accurate ;  whatever  is  at  all  ideal  is  not  original.  The 
Testimony  to  the  Truth  is  a  better  book  than  any  tale  he  can  write 
will  ever  be.  Am  I  too  dogmatical  in  saying  this  ? 

Anne  thanks  you  sincerely  for  the  kind  interest  you  take  in  her 
welfare,  and  both  she  and  I  beg  to  express  our  sense  of  Mrs. 
Williams's  good  wishes,  which  you  mentioned  in  a  former  letter. 
We  are  grateful,  too,  to  Mr.  Smith  and  to  all  who  offer  us  the 
sympathy  of  friendship. 

Whenever  you  can  write  with  pleasure  to  yourself,  remember 
Currer  Bell  is  glad  to  hear  from  you,  and  he  will  make  his  letters 
as  little  dreary  as  he  can  in  reply. — Yours  sincerely. 

C.  BRONTE. 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE          41 

Letter  344 

TO   MISS  BRONTE 

WELLINGTON,  April  io#z,  1849. 

DEAR  CHARLOTTE, — I've  been  delighted  to  receive  a  very 
interesting  letter  from  you  with  an  account  of  your  *  prop,  visit '  to 
London,  etc.  I  believe  I  have  tacked  this  acknowledgment  to  the 
tail  of  my  last  letter  to  you,  but  since  then  it  has  dawned  on  my 
comprehension  that  you  are  becoming  a  very  important  personage 
in  this  little  world,  and  therefore,  dj  ye  see  ?  I  must  write  again 
to  you.  I  wish  you  would  give  me  some  account  of  Newby,  and 
what  the  man  said  when  confronted  with  the  real  Ellis  Bell.  By 
the  way,  having  got  your  secret,  will  he  keep  it  ?  And  how  do 
you  contrive  to  get  your  letters  under  the  address  of  Mr.  Bell  ? 
The  whole  scheme  must  be  particularly  interesting  to  hear  about 
If  I  could  only  talk  to  you  for  half  a  day.  When  do  you  intend 
to  tell  the  good  people  about  you  ? 

I  am  now  hard  at  work  expecting  Ellen  Taylor.  She  may 
possibly  be  here  in  two  months.  In  the  meantime  I  have  left 
Couper's  and  I  am  at  present  living  with  the  Knoxes.  Now  the 
old  Dr.  came  home  a  few  days  ago  and  will  neither  do  any  work 
nor  follow  his  profession,  but  will  live  on  his  wife,  who  maintains 
herself  and  the  children,  principally  with  my  lodging  money  and 
a  little  sewing  and  some  charity  from  Waring  and  Couper.  Now 
the  Dr.'s  arrival  has  determined  me  to  flit,  so  I  have  ordered  a 
chimney  to  Waring's  old  house  and  shall  make  myself  comfortable 
there.  This  house  has  been  moved  back  from  the  road  and  a  new 
one  is  building  in  front  of  it,  to  be  finished  in  two  months.  Then 
the  back  cottage  where  Waring  now  lives  will  be  wheeled  on  to  a 
neighbour's  ground ;  said  neighbour  paying  £10  for  it  I  once 
thought  of  writing  you  some  of  the  dozens  of  schemes  I  have  for 
E.  T.,  but  as  the  choice  depends  on  her,  I  think  I  may  as  well  wait 
and  tell  you  the  one  she  chooses.  The  two  most  reasonable  are, 
keeping  a  school  and  keeping  a  shop.  The  last  is  decidedly  the 
most  healthy,  but  the  most  difficult  of  accomplishment  I  have 
written  an  account  of  the  earthquake  for  Chambers,  and  intend 
(now  don't  remind  me  of  this  a  year  hence,  because  'la  femme 
propose')  to  write  some  more.  The  next  to  be  '  Physiognomy  of 
the  town  of  Wellington/  What  else  I  shall  do  I  don't  know. 
I  find  the  writing  faculty  does  not  in  the  least  depend  on  the 


42  THE  BRONTES 

leisure  I  have ;  much  more  on  the  active  work  I  have  to  do. 
I  write  at  my  novel  a  little  and  think  of  my  other  work.  What 
this  will  turn  out,  God  only  knows.  It  is  not  and  never  can  be 
forgotten.  It  is  my  child,  my  baby,  and  /  assure  you  such  a 
wonder  as  never  was.  I  intend  him,  when  full  grown,  to  revolu- 
tionise society  and  *  faire  £poque '  in  history. 

In  the  meantime  I  'm  doing  a  collar  in  crochet-work.       PAG. 


Letter  345 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

April  I2//&,  '49. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— I  read  Anne's  letter  to  you ;  it  was  touching 
enough,  as  you  say.  If  there  was  no  hope  beyond  this  world,  no 
eternity,  no  life  to  come,  Emily's  fate,  and  that  which  threatens 
Anne,  would  be  heart-breaking.  I  cannot  forget  Emily's  death- 
day;  it  becomes  a  more  fixed,  a  darker,  a  more  frequently 
recurring  idea  in  my  mind  than  ever.  It  was  very  terrible.  She 
was  torn,  conscious,  panting,  reluctant,  though  resolute,  out  of  a 
happy  life.  But  it  will  not  do  to  dwell  on  these  things. 

I  am  glad  your  friends  object  to  your  going  with  Anne;  it 
would  never  do.  To  speak  the  truth,  even  if  your  mother  and 
sisters  had  consented,  I  never  could.  It  is  not  that  there  is  any 
laborious  attention  to  pay  her ;  she  requires,  and  will  accept,  but 
little  nursing ;  but  there  would  be  hazard,  and  anxiety  of  mind, 
beyond  what  you  ought  to  be  subject  to.  If,  a  month  or  six 
weeks  hence,  she  continues  to  wish  for  a  change  as  much  as  she 
does  now,  I  shall  (D.v.)  go  with  her  myself.  It  will  certainly  be 
paramount  duty ;  other  care  must  be  made  subservient  to  that. 
I  have  consulted  Mr.  Teale,  he  does  not  object,  and  recommends 
Scarborough,  which  was  Anne's  own  choice.  I  trust  affairs  may 
be  so  ordered,  that  you  may  be  able  to  be  with  us  at  least  part  of 
the  time.  .  .  .  Whether  in  lodgings  or  not  I  should  wish  to  be 
boarded.  Providing  oneself  is,  I  think,  an  insupportable  nuisance. 
I  don't  like  keeping  provisions  in  a  cupboard,  locking  up,  being 
pillaged,  and  all  that.  It  is  a  petty,  wearing  annoyance.  Best 
regards  to  all  at  Brookroyd.  I  am,  dear  Ellen,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  B. 

I  am  sorry  to  hear  poor  Miss  Heald  and  Mrs.  C.  C  have  been 
ill  again.     Are  they  better  now  ? 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    43 

Letter  346 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

April  i6M,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Your  kind  advice  on  the  subject  of  Homoe- 
opathy deserves  and  has  our  best  thanks.  We  find  ourselves, 
however,  urged  from  more  than  one  quarter  to  try  different 
systems  and  medicines,  and  I  fear  we  have  already  given  offence 
by  not  listening  to  all.  The  fact  is,  were  we  in  every  instance 
compliant,  my  dear  sister  would  be  harassed  by  continual  changes. 
Cod-liver  oil  and  carbonate  of  iron  were  first  strongly  recom- 
mended. Anne  took  them  as  long  as  she  could,  but  at  last  she 
was  obliged  to  give  them  up :  the  oil  yielded  her  no  nutriment,  it 
did  not  arrest  the  progress  of  emaciation,  and  as  it  kept  her 
always  sick,  she  was  prevented  from  taking  food  of  any  sort. 
Hydropathy  was  then  strongly  advised.  She  is  now  trying 
Gobold's  Vegetable  Balsam ;  she  thinks  it  does  her  some  good ; 
and  as  it  is  the  first  medicine  which  has  had  that  effect,  she  would 
wish  to  persevere  with  it  for  a  time.  She  is  also  looking  hope- 
fully forward  to  deriving  benefit  from  change  of  air.  We  have 
obtained  Mr.  Teale's  permission  to  go  to  the  seaside  in  the  course 
of  six  or  eight  weeks.  At  first  I  felt  torn  between  two  duties — 
that  of  staying  with  papa  and  going  with  Anne ;  but  as  it  is 
papa's  own  most  kindly  expressed  wish  that  I  should  adopt  the 
latter  plan,  and  as,  besides,  he  is  now,  thank  God !  in  tolerable 
health,  I  hope  to  be  spared  the  pain  of  resigning  the  care  of  my 
sister  to  other  hands,  however  friendly.  We  wish  to  keep  to- 
gether as  long  as  we  can.  I  hope,  too,  to  derive  from  the  change 
some  renewal  of  physical  strength  and  mental  composure)  in 
neither  of  which  points  am  I  what  I  ought  or  wish  to  be)  to  make 
me  a  better  and  more  cheery  nurse. 

I  fear  I  must  have  seemed  to  you  hard  in  my  observations 
about  The  Emigrant  Family.  The  fact  was,  I  compared 
Alexander  Harris  with  himself  only.  It  is  not  equal  to  the 
Testimony  to  the  Truth^  but,  tried  by  the  standard  of  other  and 
very  popular  books  too,  it  is  very  clever  and  original.  Both 
subject  and  the  manner  of  treating  it  are  unhackneyed ;  he  gives 
new  views  of  new  scenes  and  furnishes  interesting  information  on 
interesting  topics.  Considering  the  increasing  necessity  for  and 
tendency  to  emigration,  I  should  think  it  has  a  fair  chance  of 
securing  the  success  it  merits. 


44  THE  BRONTES 

I  took  up  Leigh  Hunt's  book  The  Town  with  the  Impression 
that  it  would  be  interesting  only  to  Londoners,  and  I  was  sur- 
prised, ere  I  had  read  many  pages,  to  find  myself  enchained  by 
his  pleasant,  graceful,  easy  style,  varied  knowledge,  just  views,  and 
kindly  spirit.  There  is  something  peculiarly  anti-melancholic  in 
Leigh  Hunt's  writings,  and  yet  they  are  never  boisterous.  They 
resemble  sunshine,  being  at  once  bright  and  tranquil. 

I  like  Carlyle  better  and  better.  His  style  I  do  not  like,  nor 
do  I  always  concur  in  his  opinions,  nor  quite  fall  in  with  his  hero- 
worship  ;  but  there  is  a  manly  love  of  truth,  an  honest  recognition 
and  fearless  vindication  of  intrinsic  greatness,  of  intellectual  and 
moral  worth,  considered  apart  from  birth,  rank,  or  wealth,  which 
commands  my  sincere  admiration,  Carlyle  would  never  do  for  a 
contributor  to  the  Quarterly.  I  have  not  read  his  Fre?ick  Revolution* 
I  congratulate  you  on  the  approaching  publication  of  Mr. 
Ruskin's  new  work.  If  the  Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture  resemble 
their  predecessor,  Modern  Painters ',  they  will  be  no  lamps  at  all, 
but  a  new  constellation — seven  bright  stars,  for  whose  rising  the 
reading  world  ought  to  be  anxiously  agaze. 

Do  not  ask  me  to  mention  what  books  I  should  like  to  read. 
Half  the  pleasure  of  receiving  a  parcel  from  Cornhill  consists  in 
having  its  contents  chosen  for  us.  We  like  to  discover,  too,  by 
the  leaves  cut  here  and  there,  that  the  ground  has  been  travelled 
before  us.  I  may  however  say,  with  reference  to  works  of  fiction, 
that  I  should  much  like  to  see  one  of  Godwin's  works,  never  having 
hitherto  had  that  pleasure — Caleb  Williams  or  Fleetwood^  or  which 
.,  you  thought  best  worth  reading. 

oi,  But  it  is  yet  much  too  soon  to  talk  of  sending  more  books ; 
thSr  Present  stock  is  scarcely  half  exhausted.  You  will  perhaps 
housJk  I  am  a  slow  reader,  but  remember,  Currer  Bell  is  a  country 
and  k£wife> and  has  sundry  little  matters  connected  with  the  needle 
when,  a^c^en  to  attend  to  which  take  up  half  his  day,  especially  now, 
three.  I1as-  there  is  but  one  pair  of  hands  where  once  there  were 

I  try  to  d*d  not  mean  to  touch  that  chord,  its  sound  is  too  sad. 
It  renewed  write  now  and  then.     The  effort  was  a  hard  one  at  first 
than  useless  *he  terrible  loss  of  last  December  strangely.     Worse 
lived  an  « Elli^id  *t  seei*i  to  attempt  to  write  what  there  no  longer 
founded  on  it,  fa  Bel1 '  to  read  ;  the  whole  book,  with  every  hope 

One  inducemeided  to  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit, 
however,  and  I  ari.t  to  persevere   and  do   my  best  I  still  have, 
<  thankful  for  it:  I  should  like  to  please  my 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    45 

kind  friends  at  Cornhill  To  that  end  I  wish  my  powers  would 
come  back;  and  if  it  would  please  Providence  to  restore  my 
remaining  sister,  I  think  they  would. 

Do  not  forget  to  tell  me  how  you  are  when  you  write  again. 
I  trust  your  indisposition  is  quite  gone  by  this  time.— Believe  me, 
yours  sincerely.  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  347 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

April 2otk,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Anne  has  decided  to  take  the  so/-  respirator. 
I  enclose  a  Post  Office  Order  for  payment.  My  cork  soles  I  find 
extremely  comfortable.  Dear  Ellen,  let  me  have  the  comfort  of 
thanking  you  for  your  kindness. 

During  the  rnild  weather  Anne  really  seemed  something  better. 
I  began  to  flatter  myself  she  was  gathering  strength.  But  the 
change  to  frost  has  told  upon  her;  she  suffers  more  of  late. 
Still  her  illness  has  none  of  the  fearful,  rapid  symptoms  which 
appalled  in  Emily's  case.  Could  she  only  get  over  the  spring,  I 
hope  summer  may  do  much  for  her,  and  then  early  removal  to  a 
warmer  locality  for  the  winter  might,  at  least,  prolong  her  life. 
Could  we  only  reckon  upon  another  year,  I  should  be  thankful ; 
but  can  we  do  this  even  for  the  healthy?  A  few  days  ago  I  wrote 
to  have  Dr.  Forbes'  opinion.  He  is  editor  of  the  Medical  Review, 
and  one  of  the  first  authorities  in  England  on  consumptive  cases. 
I  stated  Mr.  Teale's  report  of  her  state  and  the  system  of  treat- 
ment prescribed.  Dr.  Forbes  said  he  knows  Mr.  Teale  well,  and 
thinks  highly  of  his  skill.  The  remedies  were  precisely  those  he 
would  have  recommended  himself.  He  warned  us  against  enter- 
taining sanguine  hopes  of  recovery.  The  cod-liver  oil  he  considers 
a  peculiarly  efficacious  medicine.  He,  too,  disapproved  of  the 
change  of  residence  for  the  present.  There  is  some  feeble  con- 
solation in  thinking  we  are  doing  the  very  best  that  can  be  done. 
The  agony  of  forced,  total  neglect,  is  not  now  felt,  as  during  Emily's 
illness.  Never  may  we  be  doomed  to  feel  such  agony  again.  It 
was  terrible.  I  have  felt  much  less  of  the  disagreeable  pains  in 
my  chest  lately,and  much  less  also  of  the  soreness  and  hoarseness. 
I  tried  an  application  of  hot  vinegar,  which  seemed  to  do  good, 
Give  my  love  to  all*  Write  to  me  again  soon,  and  believe  me, — 
Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 


46  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  348 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

May  isf,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  glad  to  hear  that  when  we  go  to  Scar- 
boro',  you  will  be  at  liberty  to  go  with  us  ;  but  the  journey  and 
its  consequences  still  continue  a  source  of  great  anxiety  to  me  ;  I 
must  try  to  put  it  off  two  or  three  weeks  longer  if  I  can  ;  perhaps 
by  that  time  the  milder  season  may  have  given  Anne  more 
strength,  perhaps  it  will  be  otherwise  ;  I  cannot  tell.  The  change 
to  fine  weather  has  not  proved  beneficial  to  her  so  far.  She  has 
sometimes  been  so  weak,  and  suffered  so  much  from  pain  in  the 
side,  during  the  last  few  days,  that  I  have  not  known  what  to 
think.  She  may  rally  again,  and  be  much  better,  but  there  must 
be  some  improvement  before  I  can  feel  justified  In  taking  her 
away  from  home.  Yet  to  delay  is  painful ;  for,  as  is  always  the 
case,  I  believe,  under  the  circumstances,  she  seems  herself  but 
half  conscious  of  the  necessity  for  such  delay.  She  wonders,  I 
believe,  why  I  don't  talk  more  about  the  journey  :  it  grieves  me 
to  think  she  may  even  be  hurt  by  my  seeming  tardiness.  She  is 
very  much  emaciated,  far  more  so  than  when  you  were  with  us  ; 
her  arms  are  no  thicker  than  a  little  child's.  The  least  exertion 
brings  a  shortness  of  breath.  She  goes  out  a  little  every  day,  but 
we  creep  rather  than  walk.  Papa  continues  pretty  well,  and  I 
have  had  better  health  myself,  during  the  last  two  or  three  weeks, 
than  I  had  a  month  ago.  I  trust  I  shall  be  enabled  to  bear  up. 
So  far  I  have  reason  for  thankfulness.  You  will  miss  the  society 
of  Miss  Amelia  Ringrose.  Take  care  of  yourself,  observe  regular 
exercise,  and  be  on  your  guard  against  cold  ;  health  is  a  priceless 
blessing,  and  one  of  which  we  may  be  easily  robbed.  If  Anne 
seems  at  all  better  or  even  worse  in  a  week  or  two  I  will  let 
you  know. — Yours  faithfully,  C  BRONTE. 

Letter  349 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

May  Bt&t  1849, 

MY  DEAR  SIR,— I  hasten  to  acknowledge  the  two  kind  letters 
for  which  I  am  indebted  to  you.  That  fine  spring  weather  of 
which  you  speak  did  not  bring  such  happiness  to  us  in  its  sunshine 
as  I  trust  it  did  to  you  and  thousands  besides— the  change  proved 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE     47 

trying  to  my  sister.  For  a  week  or  ten  days  I  did  not  know  what 
to  think,  she  became  so  weak,  and  suffered  so  much  from  increased 
pain  in  the  side,  and  aggravated  cough.  The  last  few  days  have 
been  much  colder,  yet,  strange  to  say,  during  their  continuance 
she  has  appeared  rather  to  revive  than  sink.  She  not  unfrequently 
shows  the  very  same  symptoms  which  were  apparent  in  Emily 
only  a  few  days  before  she  died — fever  in  the  evenings,  sleepless 
nights,  and  a  sort  of  lethargy  in  the  morning  hours  ;  this  creates 
acute  anxiety — then  comes  an  improvement,  which  reassures.  In 
about  three  weeks,  should  the  weather  be  genial  and  her  strength 
continue  at  all  equal  to  the  journey,  we  hope  to  go  to  Scarboro'. 
It  is  not  without  misgiving  that  I  contemplate  a  departure  from 
home  under  such  circumstances ;  but  since  she  herself  earnestly 
wishes  the  experiment  to  be  tried,  I  think  it  ought  not  to  be 
neglected.  We  are  in  God's  hands,  and  must  trust  the  results  to 
Him.  An  old  schoolfellow  of  mine,  a  tried  and  faithful  friend, 
has  volunteered  to  accompany  us.  I  shall  have  the  satisfaction 
of  leaving  papa  to  the  attentions  of  two  servants  equally  tried  and 
faithful.  One  of  them  is  indeed  now  old  and  infirm,  and  unfit  to 
stir  much  from  her  chair  by  the  kitchen  fireside  ;  but  the  other  is 
young  and  active,  and  even  she  has  lived  with  us  seven  years.  I 
have  reason,  therefore,  you  see,  to  be  thankful  amidst  sorrow, 
especially  as  papa  still  possesses  every  faculty  unimpaired,  and 
though  not  robust,  has  good  general  health — a  sort  of  chronic 
cough  is  his  sole  complaint. 

I  hope  Mr.  Smith  will  not  risk  a  cheap  edition  of  Jane  Eyre  yet  ; 
he  had  better  wait  awhile — the  public  will  be  sick  of  the  name  of 
that  one  book.  I  can  make  no  promise  as  to  when  another  will 
be  ready — neither  my  time  nor  my  efforts  are  my  own.  That 
absorption  in  my  employment  to  which  I  gave  myself  up  without 
fear  of  doing  wrong  when  I  wrote  Jane  Eyre>  would  now  be  alike 
impossible  and  blamable ;  but  I  do  what  I  can,  and  have  made 
some  little  progress.  We  must  all  be  patient 

Meantime,  I  should  say,  let  the  public  forget  at  their  ease,  and 
let  us  not  be  nervous  about  it  And  as  to  the  critics,  if  the  Bells 
possess  real  merit,  I  do  not  fear  impartial  justice  being  rendered 
them  one  day.  I  have  a  very  short  mental  as  well  as  physical 
sight  in  some  matters,  and  am  far  less  uneasy  at  the  idea  of  public 
impatience,  misconstruction,  censure,  etc,,  than  I  am  at  the 
thought  of  the  anxiety  of  those  two  or  three  friends  in  Cornhill  to 
whom  I  owe  much  kindness,  and  whose  expectations  I  would 


48  THE  BRONTES 

earnestly  wish  not  to  disappoint.  If  they  can  make  up  their 
minds  to  wait  tranquilly,  and  put  some  confidence  in  my  goodwill, 
if  not  my  power,  to  get  on  as  well  as  may  be,  I  shall  not  repine  ; 
but  I  verily  believe  that  the  *  nobler  sex '  find  it  more  difficult  to 
wait,  to  plod,  to  work  out  their  destiny  inch  by  inch,  than  their 
sisters  do.  They  are  always  for  walking  so  fast  and  taking  such 
long  steps,  one  cannot  keep  up  with  them.  One  should  never 
tell  a  gentleman  that  one  has  commenced  a  task  till  it  is  nearly 
achieved.  Currer  Bell,  even  if  he  had  no  let  or  hindrance,  and  if 
his  path  was  quite  smooth,  could  never  march  with  the  tread  of  a 
Scott,  a  Bulwer,  a  Thackeray,  or  a  Dickens.  I  want  you  and 
Mr.  Smith  clearly  to  understand  this.  I  have  always  wished  to 
guard  you  against  exaggerated  anticipations — calculate  low  when 
you  calculate  on  me.  An  honest  man — and  woman  too — would 
always  rather  rise  above  expectation  than  fall  below  it 

Have  I  lectured  enough  ?  and  am  I  understood  ? 

Give  my  sympathising  respects  to  Mrs.  Williams.  I  hope  her 
little  daughter  is  by  this  time  restored  to  perfect  health,  It 
pleased  me  to  see  with  what  satisfaction  you  speak  of  your  son.  I 
was  glad,  too,  to  hear  of  the  progress  and  welfare  of  Miss  Kavanay  h. 
The  notices  of  Mr.  Harris's  works  are  encouraging  and  just — may 
they  contribute  to  his  success ! 

Should  Mr.  Thackeray  again  ask  after  Currer  Bell,  say  the 
secret  is  and  will  be  well  kept  because  it  is  not  worth  disclosure. 
This  fact  his  own  sagacity  will  have  already  led  him  to  divine, 
In  the  hope  that  it  may  not  be  long  ere  I  hear  from  you  again, — 
Believe  me,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONT£, 

Letter  350 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  May  i6ik,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  WOOLER, — I  will  lose  no  time  in  thanking  you 
for  your  letter  and  kind  offer  of  assistance.  We  have,  however, 
already  engaged  lodgings.  I  am  not  myself  acquainted  with 
Scarbro',  but  Anne  knows  it  well,  having  been  there  three  or  four 
times.  She  had  a  particular  preference  for  the  situation  of  some 
lodgings  (No.  2  Cliff).1  We  wrote  about  them,  and  finding  them 
disengaged,  took  them.  Your  information  is,  notwithstanding, 

1  The  houses  called  'The  Cliff3  have  been  pulled  down.  The  Grand  Hotel  stands 
on  the  site. 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    49 

valuable,  should  we  find  this  place  in  any  way  ineligible.  It  is  a 
satisfaction  to  be  provided  with  directions  for  future  use. 

Next  Wednesday  is  the  day  fixed  for  our  departure.  Ellen 
Nussey  accompanies  us  (by  Anne's  expressed  wish).  I  could  not 
refuse  her  society,  but  I  dared  not  urge  her  to  go,  for  I  have  little 
hope  that  the  excursion  will  be  one  of  pleasure  or  benefit  to  those 
engaged  in  it.  Anne  is  extremely  weak.  She  herself  has  a  fixed 
impression  that  the  sea  air  will  give  her  a  chance  of  regaining 
strength ;  that  chance,  therefore,  we  must  have.  Having  resolved 
to  try  the  experiment,  misgivings  are  useless ;  and  yet,  when  I 
look  at  her,  misgivings  will  rise.  She  is  more  emaciated  than  Emily 
was  at  the  very  last  ;  her  breath  scarcely  serves  her  to  mount  the 
stairs,  however  slowly.  She  sleeps  very  little  at  night,  and  often 
passes  most  of  the  forenoon  in  a  semi-lethargic  state.  Still,  she 
is  up  all  day,  and  even  goes  out  a  little  when  it  is  fine.  Fresh  air 
usually  acts  as  a  stimulus,  but  its  reviving  power  diminishes. 

With  best  wishes  for  your  own  health  and  welfare, — Believe 
me,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE, 

Letter  351 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

May  i&thy  '49, 

DEAR  ELLEN, — We  have  now  made  our  arrangements  for  the 
journey.  We  shall  leave  Keighley  about  half-past  one  o'clock, 
and  expect  to  reach  Leeds  soon  after  two  on  Wednesday  the 
23rd,  that  is  next  week.  It  is  with  a  heavy  heart  I  prepare;  and 
earnestly  do  I  wish  the  fatigue  of  the  journey  were  well  over.  It 
may  be  borne  better  than  I  expect;  for  temporary  stimulus  often 
does  much ;  but  when  I  see  the  daily  increasing  weakness,  I  know 
not  what  to  think.  I  fear  you  will  be  shocked  when  you  see 
Anne ;  but  be  on  your  guard,  dear  Ellen,  not  to  express  your 
feelings ;  indeed,  I  can  trust  both  your  self-possession  and  your 
kindness.  I  wish  my  judgment  sanctioned  the  step  of  going  to 
Scarborough  more  fully  than  it  does.  You  ask  how  I  have 
arranged  about  leaving  papa.  I  could  make  no  special  arrange- 
ment* He  wishes  me  to  go  with  Anne,  and  would  not  hear  of 

Jvlr, coming,  or  anything  of  that  kind  ;  so  I  do  what  I  believe 

is  for  the  best,  and  leave  the  result  to  Providence.    Best  love  to 
all.     Is  your  sister  Ann's  affair  settled  ? — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE, 
VOL.  IL  D 


50  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  352 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

May  20///,  }49. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— I  returned  Mary  Taylor's  letter  to  Hunswortf 
as  soon  as  I  had  read  it  Thank  God  she  was  safe  up  to  thai 
time,  but  I*  do  not  think  the  earthquake  was  then  over.  I  shal 
long  to  hear  tidings  of  her  again. 

Anne  was  worse  during  the  warm  weather  we  had  about  2 
week  ago.  She  grew  weaker,  and  both  the  pain  in  her  side  ant 
her  cough  were  worse;  strange  to  say,  since  it  is  colder,  she  has 
appeared  rather  to  revive,  than  sink.  I  still  hope  that  if  she  get; 
over  May  she  may  last  a  long  time. 

We  have  engaged  lodgings  at  Scarbro'.  We  stipulated  for  ? 
good-sized  sitting-room  and  an  airy  double-bedded  lodging-room 
with  a  sea  view,  and  if  not  deceived,  have  obtained  these  deside- 
rata at  No.  2  Cliff.  Anne  says  it  is  one  of  the  best  situations  ir 
the  place.  It  would  not  have  done  to  have  taken  lodgings  eithci 
in  the  town  or  on  the  bleak  steep  [North]  coast,  where  Mis.* 
Wooler's  house  is  situated.  If  Anne  is  to  get  any  good  she  mus1 
have  every  advantage.  Miss  Outhwaite  [her  godmother]  left  hei 
in  her  will  a  legacy  of  £200,  and  she  cannot  employ  her  money 
better  than  in  obtaining  what  may  prolong  existence,  if  it  does 
not  restore  health.  We  hope  to  leave  home  on  the  23rd,  and  I 
think  it  will  be  advisable  to  rest  at  York,  and  stay  all  night  there, 
I  hope  this  arrangement  will  suit  you.  We  reckon  on  youi 
society,  dear  Ellen,  as  a  real  privilege  and  pleasure.  We  shall 
take  little  luggage,  and  shall  have  to  buy  bonnets  and  dresses 
and  several  other  things  either  at  York  or  Scarbro' ;  which 
place  do  you  think  would  be  best?  Oh,  if  it  would  please  God 
to  strengthen  and  revive  Anne,  how  happy  we  might  be  together : 
His  will,  however,  must  be  done,  and  if  she  is  not  to  recover,  it 
remains  to  pray  for  strength  and  patience.  C,  B. 

Letter  353 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

No.  2  CLIFF,  SCARBORO',  May  27^,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — The  date  above  will  inform  you  why  I  have 
not  answered  your  last  letter  more  promptly.     I  have  been  busy 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    51 

with  preparations  for  departure  and  with  the  journey.  I  am 
thankful  to  say  we  reached  our  destination  safely,  having  rested 
one  night  at  York.  We  found  assistance  wherever  we  needed  it ; 
there  was  always  an  arm  ready  to  do  for  my  sister  what  I  was  not 
quite  strong  enough  to  do :  lift  her  in  and  out  of  the  carriages, 
carry  her  across  the  line,  etc. 

It  made  her  happy  to  see  both  York  and  its  Minster,  and  Scar- 
boro'  and  its  bay  once  more.  There  is  yet  no  revival  of  bodily 
strength — I  fear  indeed  the  slow  ebb  continues.  People  who  see 
her  tell  me  I  must  not  expect  her  to  last  long — but  it  is  some- 
thing to  cheer  her  mind. 

Our  lodgings  are  pleasant  As  Anne  sits  at  the  window  she 
can  look  down  on  the  sea,  which  this  morning  is  calm  as  glass. 
She  says  if  she  could  breathe  more  freely  she  would  be  comfort- 
able at  this  moment — but  she  cannot  breathe  freely. 

My  friend  Ellen  is  with  us.  I  find  her  presence  a  solace.  She 
is  a  calm,  steady  girl— not  brilliant,  but  good  and  true.  She  suits 
and  has  always  suited  me  well.  I  like  her,  with  her  phlegm,  re- 
pose, sense,  and  sincerity,  better  than  I  should  like  the  most 
talented  without  these  qualifications. 

If  ever  I  see  you  again  I  should  have  pleasure  in  talking  over 
with  you  the  topics  you  allude  to  in  your  last — or  rather,  in 
hearing  you  talk  them  over.  We  see  these  things  through  a 
glass  darkly — or  at  least  I  see  them  thus.  So  far  from  objecting 
to  speculation  on,  or  discussion  of,  the  subject,  I  should  wish 
to  hear  what  others  have  to  say.  By  others^  I  mean  only  the 
serious  and  reflective — levity  in  such  matters  shocks  as  much  as 
hypocrisy. 

Write  to  me.  In  this  strange  place  your  letters  will  come 
like  the  visits  ol  a  friend.  Fearing  to  lose  the  post,  I  will 
add  no  more  at  present, — Believe  me,  yours  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  354 

TO  W,  S.  WILLIAMS 

May  30^,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — My  poor  sister  is  taken  quietly  home  at  last. 
She  died  on  Monday.  With  almost  her  last  breath  she  said  she 
was  happy,  and  thanked  God  that  death  was  come,  and  come  so 
gently.  I  did  not  think  it  would  be  so  soon, 


52  THE  BRONTES 

You  will  not  expect  me  to  add  more  at  present— Yours 
faithfully,*  c-  BRONTE. 

Mrs.  Gaskell  also  adds  a  fact  or  two  from  Ellen 
Nussey's  notes  : — 

On  the  Tuesday  Charlotte  wrote  to  her  father ;  but  knowing 
that  his  presence  was  required  for  some  annual  church  solemnity 
at  Haworth,  she  informed  him  that  she  had  made  all  necessary 
arrangements  for  the  interment,  and  that  the  funeral  would  take 
place  so  soon  that  he  could  hardly  arrive  in  time  for  it.  The 
surgeon  who  had  visited  Anne  on  the  day  of  her  death  offered  his 
attendance,  but  it  was  respectfully  declined. 

A  lady  from  the  same  neighbourhood  as  Ellen  Nussey  was 
staying  in  Scarborough  at  this  time;  she,  too,  kindly  offered 
sympathy  and  assistance ;  and  when  that  solitary  pair  of  mourners 
(the  sister  and  the  friend)  arrived  at  the  church  this  lady  was 
there,  in  unobtrusive  presence,  not  the  less  kind  because  unob- 
trusive. 

Mr.  Bronte  wrote  to  urge  Charlotte's  longer  stay  at  the  seaside. 
Her  health  and  spirits  were  sorely  shaken;  and  much  as  he 
naturally  longed  to  see  his  only  remaining  child,  he  felt  it  right  to 
persuade  her  to  take,  with  her  friend,  a  few  more  weeks'  change 
of  scene,  though  even  that  could  not  bring  change  of  thought. 


Letter  355 

TO  MARTHA  BROWN 


J//&,  1849. 

DEAR  MARTHA,  —  I  was  very  much  pleased  with  your  note, 
and  glad  to  learn  that  all  at  home  are  getting  on  pretty  well, 
It  will  still  be  a  week  or  ten  days  before  I  return,  and  you  must 
not  tire  yourself  too  much  with  the  cleaning, 

My  sister  Anne's  death  could  not  be  otherwise  than  a  great 
trouble  to  me,  though  I  have  known  for  many  weeks  that  she 
could  not  get  better.  She  died  very  calmly  and  gently  :  she  was 
quite  sensible  to  the  last.  About  three  minutes  before  she  died 

*  The  inscription  on  the  tomb  in  Scarborough  churchyard  runs  as  follows  :  — 
'  Here  lie  the  Remains  of  Anns  Bronte,  Daughter  of  the  Rev* 
of  Haworth,  Yorkshire.     She  Died,  aged  29,  May  28,  1849.* 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE    53 

she  said  she  was  very  happy,  and  believed  she  was  passing  out  of 
earth  into  heaven.  It  was  not  her  custom  to  talk  much  about 
religion ;  but  she  was  very  good,  and  I  am  certain  she  is  now  in  a 
far  better  place  than  any  this  world  contains. 

I  mean  to  send  one  of  the  boxes  home  this  week,  as  I  have 
more  luggage  than  is  convenient  to  carry  about.  Give  my  best 
love  to  Tabby. — I  am,  dear  Martha,  your  sincere  friend, 

C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  356 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

June  2$tk,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  am  now  again  at  home,  where  I  returned 
last  Thursday.  I  call  It  home  still — much  as  London  would  be 
called  London  if  an  earthquake  should  shake  its  streets  to  ruins. 
But  let  me  not  be  ungrateful :  Haworth  parsonage  is  still  a  home 
for  me,  and  not  quite  a  ruined  or  desolate  home  either.  Papa  is 
there,  and  two  most  affectionate  and  faithful  servants,  and  two  old 
dogs,  in  their  way  as  faithful  and  affectionate — Emily's  large 
house-dog  which  lay  at  the  side  of  her  dying  bed,  and  followed 
her  funeral  to  the  vault,  lying  in  the  pew  couched  at  our  feet  while 
the  burial  service  was  being  read — and  Anne's  little  spaniel.  The 
ecstasy  of  these  poor  animals  when  I  came  in  was  something 
singular.  At  former  returns  from  brief  absences  they  always 
welcomed  me  warmly — but  not  in  that  strange,  heart-touching 
way.  I  am  certain  they  thought  that,  as  I  was  returned,  my 
sisters  were  not  far  behind.  But  here  my  sisters  will  come  no 
more.  Keeper  may  visit  Emily's  little  bedroom — as  he  still  does 
day  by  day — and  Flossy  may  still  look  wistfully  round  for  Anne, 
they  will  never  see  them  again — nor  shall  I — at  least  the  human 
part  of  me,  I  must  not  write  so  sadly,  but  how  can  I  help 
thinking  and  feeling  sadly  ?  In  the  daytime  effort  and  occupation 
aid  me,  but  when  evening  darkens,  something  in  my  heart  revolts 
against  the  burden  of  solitude— the  sense  of  loss  and  want  grows 
almost  too  much  for  me,  I  am  not  good  or  amiable  in  such 
moments,  I  am  rebellious,  and  it  is  only  the  thought  of  my  dear 
father  in  the  next  room,  or  of  the  kind  servants  in  the  kitchen,  or 
some  caress  from  the  poor  dogs,  which  restores  me  to  softer 
sentiments  and  more  rational  views.  As  to  the  night — could  I 


54  THE  BRONTES 

do  without  bed,  I  would  never  seek  it.  Waking,  I  think, 
sleeping,  I  dream  of  them  ;  and  I  cannot  recall  them  as  they  were 
in  health,  still  they  appear  to  me  in  sickness  and  suffering.  Still, 
my  nights  were  worse  after  the  first  shock  of  Branwell's  death 
—they  were  terrible  then ;  and  the  impressions  experienced  on 
waking  were  at  that  time  such  as  we  do  not  put  into  language. 
Worse  seemed  at  hand  than  was  yet  endured— in  truth,  worse 
awaited  us. 

All  this  bitterness  must  be  tasted.  Perhaps  the  palate  will 
grow  used  to  the  draught  in  time,  and  find  its  flavour  less  acrid. 
This  pain  must  be  undergone;  its  poignancy,  I  trust,  will  be 
blunted  one  day.  Ellen  would  have  come  back  with  me,  but 
I  would  not  let  her.  I  knew  it  would  be  better  to  face  the 
desolation  at  once — later  or  sooner  the  sharp  pang  must  be 
experienced. 

Labour  must  be  the  cure,  not  sympathy.  Labour  is  the  only 
radical  cure  for  rooted  sorrow.  The  society  of  a  calm,  serenely 
cheerful  companion — such  as  Ellen — soothes  pain  like  a  soft 
opiate,  but  I  find  it  does  not  probe  or  heal  the  wound ;  sharper, 
more  severe  means,  are  necessary  to  make  a  remedy.  Total 
change  might  do  much ;  where  that  cannot  be  obtained,  work  is 
the  best  substitute. 

I  by  no  means  ask  Miss  Kavanagh  to  write  to  me.  Why  should 
she  trouble  herself  to  do  it  ?  What  claim  have  I  on  her  ?  She 
does  not  know  me — she  cannot  care  for  me  except  vaguely  and 
on  hearsay.  I  have  got  used  to  your  friendly  sympathy,  and  it 
comforts  me.  I  have  tried  and  trust  the  fidelity  of  one  or  two 
other  friends,  and  I  lean  upon  it.  The  natural  affection  of  my 
father,  and  the  attachment  and  solicitude  of  our  two  servants  are 
precious  and  consolatory  to  me,  but  I  do  not  look  round  for 
general  pity ;  conventional  condolence  I  do  not  want,  either  from 
man  or  woman. 

The  letter  you  enclosed  in  your  last  bore  the  signature  H,  S. 
Mayers — the  address,  Sheepscombe,  Stroud,  Gloucestershire  ;  can 
you  give  me  any  information  respecting  the  writer?  It  is  my 
intention  to  acknowledge  it  one  day.  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear 
that  your  little  invalid  is  restored  to  health,  and  that  the  rest  of 
your  family  continue  well.  Mrs.  Williams  should  spare  herself 
for  her  husband's  and  children's  sake,  Her  life  and  health  are  too 
valuable  to  those  round  her  to  be  lavished — she  should  be  careful 
of  them, — Believe  me,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTJS, 


THE  DEATH  OF  ANNE  BRONTE          55 

Letter  357 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

July  ist,  '49. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  intended  to  have  written  a  line  to  you  to- 
day, if  I  had  not  received  yours.  We  did,  indeed,  part  suddenly ; 
it  made  my  heart  ache  that  we  were  severed  without  the  time  to 
exchange  a  word  ;  and  yet  perhaps  it  was  better.  I  got  home  a 
little  before  eight  o'clock.  All  was  clean  and  bright,  waiting  for 
me.  Papa  and  the  servants  were  well ;  and  all  received  me  with 
an  affection  which  should  have  consoled.  The  dogs  seemed  in 
strange  ecstasy,  I  am  certain  they  regarded  me  as  the  harbinger 
of  others.  The  dumb  creatures  thought  that  as  I  was  returned, 
those  who  had  been  so  long  absent  were  not  far  behind. 

I  left  papa  soon  and  went  into  the  dining-room:  I  shut  the 
door.  I  tried  to  be  glad  that  I  was  come  home.  I  have  always 
been  glad  before — except  once,  even  then  I  was  cheered.  But 
this  time  joy  was  not  to  be  the  sensation,  I  felt  that  the  house 
was  all  silent,  the  rooms  were  all  empty.  I  remembered  where 
the  three  were  laid — in  what  narrow  dark  dwellings, — never  more 
to  reappear  on  earth.  So  the  sense  of  desolation  and  bitterness 
took  possession  of  me.  The  agony  that  was  to  be  undergone^  and  was 
not  to  be  avoided,  came  on.  I  underwent  it,  and  passed  a  dreary 
evening  and  night,  and  a  mournful  morrow ;  to-day  I  am  better. 

I  do  not  know  how  life  will  pass,  but  I  certainly  do  feel  confidence 
in  Him  who  has  upheld  me  hitherto.  Solitude  may  be  cheered, 
and  made  endurable  beyond  what  I  can  believe.  The  great  trial 
is  when  evening  closes  and  night  approaches.  At  that  hour,  we 
used  to  assemble  in  the  dining-room ;  we  used  to  talk.  Now  I 
sit  by  myself;  necessarily  I  am  silent  I  cannot  help  thinking 
of  their  last  days,  remembering  their  sufferings,  and  what  they 
said  and  did,  and  how  they  looked  in  mortal  affliction.  Perhaps 
all  this  will  become  less  poignant  in  time. 

Let  me  thank  you  once  more,  dear  Ellen,  for  your  kindness  to 
me,  which  I  do  not  mean  to  forget.  How  did  they  think  you 
were  looking  at  home?  Papa  thought  me  a  little  stronger;  he 
said  my  eyes  were  not  so  sunken.  I  am  glad  to  hear  a  good 
account  of  your  mother,  and  a  tolerable  one  of  Mercy.  I  hope 
she  will  soon  recover  her  health.  Love  to  all.  Write  again  very 

soon  and  tell  me  how  poor  Miss  H goes  on,  Saturday. 

Yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


56  THE  BKONTES 


CHAPTER    XXI 

'SHIRLEY' 

ALTHOUGH  Shirley  is  perhaps  the  least  distinctive  of 
Charlotte  Bronte's  four  novels,  it  must  always  have  a 
special  interest,  if  only  on  account  of  its  presentation  of 
her  sister  Emily  in  the  character  of  Shirley  Keelclar. 
Shirley  was,  she  said,  what  Emily  might  have  been  *  had 
she  been  placed  in  health  and  prosperity/  The  three 
curates,  again,  are  a  feature  of  untiring  interest.  We 
follow  the  story  of  Mr.  Donne,  Mr.  Malone,  and  Mr, 
Sweeting  with  a  desire  to  know  something  of  their  later 
career.  Mr.  Donne,  or  Joseph  Brett  Grant,  was  the  master 
of  the  Haworth  Grammar  School  at  the  time.  He  became 
curate  and  afterwards  vicar  of  Oxenhope,  where  he  died 
greatly  esteemed  a  quarter  of  a  century  later,  Peter 
Augustus  Malone,  who  was  James  William  Smith  in  real 
life,  was  for  two  years  curate  to  Mr.  Bronte  at  Haworth. 
He  had  graduated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  and  after 
a  two  years'  curacy  at  Haworth  he  became  curate  of  the 
neighbouring  parish  of  Keighley.  In  1847,  his  family 
having  suffered  frightfully  from  the  Irish  famine,  he  de- 
termined to  try  and  build  up  a  home  for  them  on  the 
American  continent,  and  sailed  for  Canada,  The  last 
that  was  heard  of  him  was  from  Minnesota,  where  he 
was  cutting  down  trees  for  lumbermen ;  and  he  probably 
perished  on  his  way  to  the  goldfields  of  California,1 

1  See  A  Well-known  Character  in  Fiction,  the  true  story  of  Mr,  Peter  Malone  in 
Shirley,  by  his  nephew,  Robert  Keating  Smith,  in  The  Tatler,  April  2,  1902,  Mr.  R. 
K.  Smith  writes  with  enthusiasm  of  his  uncle,  and  his  article  in  Tht  Tatler  brought  him 


'SHIRLEY'  57 

David  Sweeting,  the  third  curate,  was  the  Rev.  James 
Chesterton  Bradley  (who  had  been  educated  at  Queen's 
College,  Oxford),  from  the  neighbouring  parish  of  Oak- 
worth,  to  which  lie  had  been  curate  since  1843.  He  went 
in  1847  to  All  Saints',  Paddington;  in  1856  he  went  to 
Corfe  Castle,  Dorset,  and  in  1863  he  became  rector  of 
Sutton-under-Brayles,  Warwickshire,  a  living  which  he 
held  until  1904,  when  he  retired.  He  is  still  living  at  an 
advanced  age  at  Richmond,  Surrey.  Mr.  Bradley  has 
always  found  great  pleasure  in  recalling  the  fact  that  he 
was  the  prototype  of  Mr,  Sweeting  in  Shirley,  although 
he  declares  that  the  meetings  of  the  curates  at  each  other's 
lodgings  were  exclusively  for  a  series  of  two-hours'  readings 
of  the  Greek  fathers,  and  not  for  the  drunken  orgies 
described  in  Shirley. 

a  letter  from  the  one  curate  who  happily  still  survives.    It  is  only  fair  to  the  memory  of 
the  curates  that  this  letter  should  be  published. 

SUTTON  RECTORY,  BRAYLES,  BANBURY, 

ENGLAND,  May  yd,  1902. 
Rev,  ROBERT  KEATING  SMITH. 

DEAR  SIR, — A  short  paper  of  yours  in  The  TatUr  of  April  2nd  brought  before  me 
my  old  friend  James  W.  Smith.  He  and  I  were  fellow- curates  in  Yorkshire,  he  curate 
of  Haworth,  and  I  of  the  hill  part  of  Keighley  which  joined  on  to  Haworth.  Of  course 
I  saw  a  great  deal  of  him,  and  we  were  great  friends.  He  and  I  with  another  of  the 
name  of  Grant  were  the  three  curates  in  Charlotte  Bronte's  Shirley.  I  need  not  say 
how  indignant  I  have  often  been  at  the  way  in  which  she  speaks  of  him  in  the  novel. 
He  was  a  thorough  gentleman  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  and  there  was  not  the 
slightest  ground  for  the  insinuation  she  makes  against  him,,  But  my  chief  object  in 
writing  is  to  ask  if  you  can  tell  me  anything  more  about  him  than  what  you  have 
written  in  the  periodical,  I,  the  'Davy  Sweeting'  of  the  novel,  was  obliged  to  resign 
the  incumbency  of  Oakworth  from  ill-health  not  very  long  before  he  left,  and  during  my 
illness  I  had  a  letter  from  him  (lost  now,  I  grieve  to  say),  and  then  I  heard  that  he  had 
gone  abroad,  and  the  rumour  was  spread  that  he  had  been  wrecked  on  the  coast  of 
Canada*  It  was  after  this,  I  believe,  that  the  novel  came  out.  We  used  to  read 
together,  walk  together,  and  as  often  as  we  could,  about  once  a  week,  meet  either  at 
his  or  my  lodgings.  Please  excuse  me  for  thus  intruding  on  you,  but  I  was  anxious  to 
give  my  testimony  against  the  false  and  cruel  way  in  which  Charlotte  Bronte  has  held 
him  up  in  her  book. —Believe  me,  yours  very  truly, 

(Signed]    JAMES  C.  BRADLEY. 


58  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  358 

TO  W.   S.   WILLIAMS 

July  yd,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,— You  do  right  to  address  me  on  subjects  which 
compel  me,  in  order  to  give  a  coherent  answer,  to  quit  for  a 
moment  my  habitual  train  of  thought,  The  mention  of  your 
healthy-living  daughters  reminds  me  of  the  world  where  other 
people  live— where  I  lived  once.  Theirs  are  cheerful  images  as 
you  present  them — I  have  no  wish  to  shut  them  out. 

From  all  you  say  of  Ellen,  the  eldest,  I  am  inclined  to 
respect  her  much.  I  like  practical  sense  which  works  to  the 
good  of  others.  I  esteem  a  dutiful  daughter  who  makes  her 
parents  happy. 

Fanny's  character  I  would  take  on  second  hand  from  nobody, 
least  of  all  from  her  kind  father,  whose  estimate  of  human  nature 
in  general  inclines  rather  to  what  ought  to  be  than  to  what  is. 
Of  Fanny  I  would  judge  for  myself,  and  that  not  hastily  nor  on 
first  impressions. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  Louisa  has  a  chance  of  a  presentation  to 
Queen's  College.  I  hope  she  will  succeed.  Do  not,  my  clear  sir, 
be  indifferent — be  earnest  about  it.  Come  what  may  afterwards, 
an  education  secured  is  an  advantage  gained — a  priceless  advan- 
tage. Come  what  may,  it  is  a  step  towards  independency,  and 
one  great  curse  of  a  single  female  life  is  its  dependency,  It  does 
credit  both  to  Louisa's  heart  and  head  that  she  herself  wishes  to 
get  this  presentation.  Encourage  her  in  the  wish.  Your  daughters 
— no  more  than  your  sons — should  be  a  burden  on  your  hands. 
Your  daughters — as  much  as  your  sons — should  aim  at  making 
their  way  honourably  through  life.  Do  not  wish  to  keep  them  at 
home.  Believe  me,  teachers  may  be  hard-worked,  ill-paid,  and 
despised,  but  the  girl  who  stays  at  home  doing  nothing  Is  worse 
off  than  the  hardest- wrought  and  worst-paid  drudge  of  a  school 
Whenever  I  have  seen,  not  merely  in  humble,  but  in  affluent 
homes,  families  of  daughters  sitting  waiting  to  be  married,  I  have 
pitied  them  from  my  heart.  It  is  doubtless  well — very  well — if 
Fate  decrees  them  a  happy  marriage ;  but,  if  otherwise,  give  their 
existence  some  object,  their  time  some  occupation,  or  the  peevish- 
ness of  disappointment  and  the  listlessness  of  idleness  will  Infal- 
libly degrade  their  nature. 

Should  Louisa  eventually  go  out  as  a  governess,  do  not  be  un~ 


<  SHIRLEY '  59 

easy  respecting  her  lot.  The  sketch  you  give  of  her  character 
leads  me  to  think  she  has  a  better  chance  of  happiness  than  one 
in  a  hundred  of  her  sisterhood.  Of  pleasing  exterior  (that  is 
always  an  advantage — children  like  it),  good  sense,  obliging  dis- 
position, cheerful,  healthy,  possessing  a  good  average  capacity,  but 
no  prominent  master  talent  to  make  her  miserable  by  its  cravings 
for  exercise,  by  its  mutiny  under  restraint — Louisa  thus  endowed 
will  find  the  post  of  governess  comparatively  easy.  If  she  be  like 
her  mother — as  you  say  she  is — and  if,  consequently,  she  is  fond 
of  children,  and  possesses  tact  for  managing  them,  their  care  is  her 
natural  vocation — she  ought  to  be  a  governess. 

Your  sketch  of  Braxborne,  as  it  is  and  as  it  was,  is  sadly 
pleasing,  I  remember  your  first  picture  of  it  in  a  letter  written  a 
year  ago — only  a  year  ago.  I  was  in  this  room — where  I  now  am 
— when  I  received  it.  I  was  not  alone  then.  In  those  days  your 
letters  often  served  as  a  text  for  comment — a  theme  for  talk  ; 
now,  I  read  them,  return  them  to  their  covers  and  put  them  away. 
Johnson,  I  think,  makes  mournful  mention  somewhere  of  the 
pleasure  that  accrues  when  we  are  '  solitary  and  cannot  impart  it' 
Thoughts,  under  such  circumstances,  cannot  grow  to  words, 
impulses  fail  to  ripen  to  actions. 

Lonely  as  I  am,  how  should  I  be  if  Providence  had  never  given 
me  courage  to  adopt  a  career — perseverance  to  plead  through 
two  long,  weary  years  with  publishers  till  they  admitted  me? 
How  should  I  be  with  youth  past,  sisters  lost,  a  resident  in  a 
moorland  parish  where  there  is  not  a  single  educated  family?  In 
that  case  I  should  have  no  world  at  all :  the  raven,  weary  of 
surveying  the  deluge,  and  without  an  ark  to  return  to,  would 
be  my  type.  As  it  is,  something  like  a  hope  and  motive  sustains 
me  still  I  wish  all  your  daughters — I  wish  every  woman  in 
England,  had  also  a  hope  and  motive.  Alas  !  there  are  many  old 
maids  who  have  neither. — Believe  me,  yours  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  359 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

H  AWORTH, /#/y  4#,  1849. 

I  get  on  as  well  as  I  can.  Home  is  not  the  home  it  used  to  be 
— that  you  may  well  conceive  ;  but  so  far,  I  get  on. 

I  cannot  boast  of  vast  benefits  derived  from  change  of  air  yet; 


60  THE  BRONTES 

but  unfortunately  I  brought  back  the  seeds  of  a  cold  with  me  from 
that  dismal  Easton,  and  I  have  not  got  rid  of  it  yet.  Still  I  think 
I  look  better  than  I  did  before  I  went.  How  are  you  ?  You  have 
never  told  me. 

Mr.  Williams  has  written  to  me  twice  since  my  return,  chiefly 
on  the  subject  of  his  third  daughter,  who  wishes  to  be  a  governess, 
and  has  some  chances  of  a  presentation  to  Queen's  College,  an 
establishment  connected  with  the  Governess  Institution  ;  this  will 
secure  her  four  years  of  instruction.  He  says  Mr.  George  Smith 
is  kindly  using  his  influence  to  obtain  votes,  but  there  are  so  many 
candidates  he  is  not  sanguine  of  success. 

I  had  a  long  letter  from  Mary  Taylor — interesting  but  sad, 
because  it  contained  many  allusions  to  those  who  are  in  this 
world  no  more.  She  mentioned  you,  and  seemed  impressed  with 
an  idea  of  the  lamentable  nature  of  your  unoccupied  life.  She 
spoke  of  her  own  health  as  being  excellent 

Give  my  love  to  your  mother  and  sisters,  and, — Believe  me 
yours,  C.  B. 


Letter  360 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  July  \tfh  1849. 


I  do  not  much  like  giving  you  an  account  of  myself.  I  like 
better  to  go  out  of  myself,  and  talk  of  something  more  cheerful 
My  cold,  wherever  I  got  it,  whether  at  Easton  or  elsewhere,  is  not 
vanished  yet  It  began  in  my  head  ;  then  I  had  a  sore  throat, 
and  then  a  sore  chest,  with  a  cough,  but  only  a  trifling  cough, 
which  I  still  have  at  times.  The  pains  between  my  shoulders 
likewise  annoyed  me  much.  Say  nothing  about  it,  for  I  confess 
I  am  too  much  disposed  to  be  nervous.  This  nervousness  is  a 
horrid  phantom.  I  dare  communicate  no  ailment  to  papa  ;  his 
anxiety  harasses  me  inexpressibly. 

My  life  is  what  I  expected  it  to  be.  Sometimes  when  I  wake 
in  the  morning,  and  know  that  Solitude,  Remembrance,  and 
Longing,  are  to  be  almost  my  sole  companions  all  day  through, 
that  at  night  I  shall  go  to  bed  with  them,  that  they  will  keep  me 
sleepless,  that  next  morning  I  shall  wake  to  them  again  ;  some- 
times, Ellen,  I  have  a  heavy  heart  of  it.  But  crushed  I  am  not 
yet;  nor  robbed  of  elasticity,  nor  of  hope,  nor  quite  of  endeavour, 


'SHIRLEY'  61 

Still  I  have  some  strength  to  fight  the  battle  of  life.  I  am  aware, 
and  can  acknowledge,  I  have  many  comforts,  many  mercies.  Still 
I  can  get  on.  But  I  do  hope  and  pray,  that  never  may  you,  or 
any  one  I  love,  be  placed  as  I  am.  To  sit  in  a  lonely  room,  the 
clock  ticking  loud  through  a  still  house,  and  to  have  open  before 
the  mind's  eye  the  record  of  the  last  year,  with  its  shocks,  suffer- 
ings, losses,  is  a  trial. 

I  write  to  you  freely,  because  I  believe  you  will  hear  me  with 
moderation,  that  you  will  not  take  alarm  or  think  me  in  any  way 
worse  off  than  I  am.  My  love  to  your  mother  and  sisters,  and 
believe  me  yours  sincerely,  C  B. 


Letter  361 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

July  24#,  '49. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  enclose  a  £$  note,  which  I  hope  you  will 
receive  safely,  and  will  thank  you  to  buy  a  patent  shower-bath 
and  such  a  boa  and  cuffs  as  you  can  get  for  the  money  I  name. 
As  to  the  colour  of  fur,  I  can  only  say  I  prefer  grey  or  dark  furs 
to  the  yellow  and  tawny  kind. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  Ann  is  going  to  be  married  soon.  I  dare  not 
give  advice  about  her  dress,  it  is  above  me,  you  will  settle  all 
that  as  right  as  a  trivet.  When  you  marry  I  will  give  you  your 
choice  of  two  costumes,  silver-grey  and  white  or  dove  colour  and 
pale  pink.  But  I  should  say  some  shade  of  violet  would  be  prefer- 
able, not  that  I  understand  the  code  of  laws  in  these  matters,  in 
the  least.  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  that  R.  R.  is  better.  I  have 
often  thought  of  her,  but  did  not  like  to  ask  lest  I  should  hear 
bad  news  ;  her  symptoms  seemed  to  me  threatening.  I  shall  not 
soon  forget  her  face,  so  pretty,  modest,  sensitive^ — that  was  the 
peculiar  charm  in  my  eyes ;  pretty  faces,  modest  faces,  I  see 
sometimes ;  sensitive  faces,  seldom  indeed.  It  was  odd,  in  her 
sister's  face  I  could  not  discover  that  trace  of  feeling ;  had  I  found 
it,  it  would  for  me  have  given  something  better  than  beauty  to 
her  otherwise  homely  features.  Wanting  it,  had  I  not  known  how 
amiable  she  is  I  should  hardly  have  judged  of  her  so  favourably 
as  she  deserves. — Yours  truly,  C.  B. 

Louisa  Williams  has  obtained  her  presentation.  Poor  Mary 
Swaine, 


62  THE  BRONTES 


Letter  362 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

July  26//r,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,— I  must  rouse  myself  to  write  a  line  to  you, 
lest  a  more  protracted  silence  should  seem  strange. 

Truly  glad  was  I  to  hear  of  your  daughter's  success.  I  trust 
its  results  may  conduce  to  the  permanent  advantage  both  of 
herself  and  her  parents. 

Of  still  more  importance  than  your  children's  education  is  your 
wife's  health,  and  therefore  it  is  still  more  gratifying  to  learn  that 
your  anxiety  on  that  account  is  likely  to  be  alleviated.  For  her 
own  sake,  no  less  than  for  that  of  others,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that 
she  is  now  secured  from  a  recurrence  of  her  painful  and  dangerous 
attacks.  It  was  pleasing,  too,  to  hear  of  good  qualities  being 
developed  in  the  daughters  by  the  mother's  danger,  May  your 
girls  always  so  act  as  to  justify  their  father's  kind  estimate  of 
their  characters;  may  they  never  do  what  might  disappoint  or 
grieve  him ! 

Your  suggestion  relative  to  myself  is  a  good  one  in  some 
respects,  but  there  are  two  persons  whom  it  would  not  suit ;  and 
not  the  least  incommoded  of  these  would  be  the  young  person 
whom  I  might  request  to  come  and  bury  herself  in  the  hills  of 
Haworth,  to  take  a  church  and  stony  churchyard  for  her  prospect, 
the  dead  silence  of  a  village  parsonage — in  which  the  tick  of  the 
clock  is  heard  all  day  long — for  her  atmosphere,  and  a  grave 
silent  spinster  for  her  companion.  I  should  not  like  to  see  youth 
thus  immured.  The  hush  and  gloom  of  our  house  would  be  more 
oppressive  to  a  buoy  ant  than  to  a  subdued  spirit  The  fact  is,  my 
work  is  my  best  companion ;  hereafter  I  look  for  no  great  earthly 
comfort  except  what  congenial  occupation  can  give.  For  society, 
long  seclusion  has  in  a  great  measure  unfitted  me,  I  doubt  whether 
I  should  enjoy  it  if  I  might  have  it  Sometimes  I  think  I  should, 
and  I  thirst  for  it ;  but  at  other  times  I  doubt  my  capability  of 
pleasing  or  deriving  pleasure.  The  prisoner  in  solitary  confine- 
ment, the  toad  in  the  block  of  marble,  all  in  time  shape  themselves 
to  their  lot — Yours  sincerely,  C  BRONTE, 


6  SHIRLEY'  63 

Letter  363 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

August  $rd,  '49. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  have  received  the  furs  safely,  I  like  the  sables 
very  much,  and  shall  keep  them,  and  '  to  save  them '  shall  keep 
the  squirrel,  as  you  prudently  suggested.  I  hope  it  is  not  too 
much  like  using  the  steel  poker  to  save  the  brass  one.  I  return 
Mary  Gorham's  letter,  it  is  another  page  from  the  volume  of  life, 
and  at  the  bottom  is  written  '  Finis,'  mournful  word.  Macaulay's 
History  was  only  lent  to  myself;  all  the  books  I  have  from  London 
I  accept  only  as  a  loan,  except  in  peculiar  cases,  where  it  is  the 
author's  wish  I  should  possess  his  work. 

Do  you  think  in  a  few  weeks  it  will  be  possible  for  you  to  come 
to  see  me?  I  am  only  waiting  to  get  my  labour  off  my  hands 
to  permit  myself  the  pleasure  of  asking  you, 

I  am  sadly  afraid  Ann's  marriage  will  come  in  the  way.  At  our 
house  you  can  read  as  much  as  you  please. 

I  have  been  much  better,  very  free  from  oppression  or  irritation 
of  the  chest,  during  the  last  fortnight  or  ten  days.  Love  to  all. — 
Good-bye,  dear  Nell,  C.  B. 

Letter  364 

TO  W.   S,   WILLIAMS 

August  i6t&,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Since  I  last  wrote  to  you  I  have  been  getting 
on  with  my  book  as  well  as  I  can,  and  I  think  I  may  now  venture 
to  say  that  in  a  few  weeks  I  hope  to  have  the  pleasure  of  placing 
the  MS.  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Smith. 

The  North  British  Review  duly  reached  me.  I  read  attentively 
all  it  says  about  E.  Wyndham,  Jane  Eyre,  and  F.  Hervey.  Much 
of  the  article  is  clever,  and  yet  there  are  remarks  which — for  me — 
rob  it  of  importance. 

To  value  praise  or  stand  in  awe  of  blame  we  must  respect  the 
source  whence  the  praise  and  blame  proceed,  and  I  do  not  respect 
an  inconsistent  critic.  He  says, '  if  Jane  Eyre  be  the  production  of 
a  woman,  she  must  be  a  woman  unsexed.' 

In  that  case  the  book  is  an  unredeemed  error  and  should  be 
unreservedly  condemned.  Jane  Eyre  is  a  woman's  autobiography, 
by  a  woman  it  is  professedly  written.  If  it  is  written  as  no  woman 
would  write,  condemn  it  with  spirit  and  decision — say  it  is  bad,  but 


64  THE  BRONTES 

do  not  eulogise  and  then  detract.  I  am  reminded  of  the  Economist. 
The  literary  critic  of  that  paper  praised  the  book  if  written  by  a 
man,  and  pronounced  it c  odious  '  if  the  work  of  a  woman. 

To  such  critics  I  would  say,  (To  you  I  am  neither  man  nor 

woman I  come  before  you  as  an  author  only.  It  is  the  sole 

standard  by  which  you  have  a  right  to  judge  me— the  sole  ground 
on  which  I  accept  your  judgment.' 

There  is  a  weak  comment,  having  no  pretence  either  to  justice 
or  discrimination,  on  the  works  of  Ellis  and  Acton  Bell.  The 
critic  did  not  know  that  those  writers  had  passed  from  time  and 
life.  I  have  read  no  review  since  either  of  my  sisters  died  which  I 
could  have  wished  them  to  read — none  even  which  did  not  render 
the  thought  of  their  departure  more  tolerable  to  me.  To  hear 
myself  praised  beyond  them  was  cruel,  to  hear  qualities  ascribed 
to  them  so  strangely  the  reverse  of  their  real  characteristics  was 
scarce  supportable.  It  is  sad  even  now ;  but  they  are  so  remote 
from  earth,  so  safe  from  its  turmoils,  I  can  bear  it  better. 

But  on  one  point  do  I  now  feel  vulnerable ;  I  should  grieve  to 
see  my  father's  peace  of  mind  perturbed  on  my  account ;  for  which 
reason  I  keep  my  author's  existence  as  much  as  possible  out  of 
his  way.  I  have  always  given  him  a  carefully  diluted  and  modi- 
fied account  of  the  success  of  Jane  Eyre — just  what  would  please 
without  startling  him.  The  book  is  not  mentioned  between  us 
once  a  month.  The  Quarterly  I  kept  to  myself — it  would  have 
worried  papa.  To  that  same  Quarterly  I  must  speak  in  the 
introduction  to  my  present  work — just  one  little  word,  You 
once,  I  remember,  said  that  the  review  was  written  by  a  lady — 
Miss  Rigby.  Are  you  sure  of  this  ? 

Give  no  hint  of  my  intention  of  discoursing  a  little  with  the 
Quarterly.  It  would  look  too  important  to  speak  of  it  before- 
hand. All  plans  are  best  conceived  and  executed  without  noise. 
• — Believe  me,  yours  sincerely,  C  B, 

Letter  365 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

August  2U/,  1849, 

MY  DEAR  SIR,— I  can  only  write  very  briefly  at  present — first 
to  thank  you  for  your  interesting  letter  and  the  graphic  description 
it  contained  of  the  neighbourhood  where  you  have  been  staying, 
and  then  to  decide  about  the  title  of  the  book. 


<  SHIRLEY '  65 

If  I  remember  rightly,  my  Cornhill  critics  objected  to  Hollow  s 
Mitt,  nor  do  I  now  find  it  appropriate.  It  might  rather  be  called 
Fieldhead,  though  I  think  Shirley  would  perhaps  be  the  best  title, 
Shirley,  I  fancy,  has  turned  out  the  most  prominent  and  peculiar 
character  in  the  work. 

Cornhill  may  decide  between  Fieldhead  and  Shirley. — Believe 
me,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  366 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

August  2,yd,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— Papa  has  not  been  well  at  all  lately.  He  has 
had  another  attack  of  bronchitis.  I  felt  very  uneasy  about  him 
for  some  days,  more  wretched  indeed  than  I  care  to  tell  you. 
After  what  has  happened,  one  trembles  at  any  appearance  of 
sickness ;  and  when  anything  ails  papa,  I  feel  too  keenly  that 
he  is  the  last,  the  only  near  and  dear  relation  I  have  in  the  world. 
Yesterday  and  to-day  he  has  seemed  much  better,  for  which  I  am 
truly  thankful. 

For  myself  I  should  be  pretty  well,  but  for  a  continually  re- 
curring feeling  of  slight  cold,  slight  hoarseness  in  the  throat  and 
chest,  of  which — do  what  I  will — I  cannot  quite  get  rid.  Has 
your  cough  entirely  left  you?  I  wish  the  atmosphere  would 
return  to  a  salubrious  condition,  for  I  really  think  it  is  not  healthy. 
English  cholera  has  been  very  prevalent  here.  I  do  wish  to  see  you. 

From  what  you  say  of  Mr.  Clapham,  I  think  I  should  like  him 
very  much.  Ann  wants  shaking  to  be  put  out  about  his  appear- 
ance. 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  a  small  present  Give  me  a  hint 
what  would  be  acceptable. 

I  suppose  you  have  not  yet  heard  anything  more  of  poor 
Mr.  Gorham.  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  brides-maid  gear. 

VOL.  II.  E 


66  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  367 

TO  W.   S.  WILLIAMS 

Augtist  24^,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  think  the  best  title  for  the  book  would  be 
Shirley,  without  any  explanation  or  addition — the  simpler  and 
briefer,  the  better. 

If  Mr.  Taylor  calls  here  on  his  return  to  town  he  might  take 
charge  of  the  MS. ;  I  would  rather  intrust  it  to  him  than  send  it 
by  the  ordinary  conveyance.  Did  I  see  Mr.  Taylor  when  I  was 
in  London  ?  I  cannot  remember  him. 

I  would  with  pleasure  offer  him  the  homely  hospitalities  of  the 
Parsonage  for  a  few  days,  if  I  could  at  the  same  time  offer  him 
the  company  of  a  brother,  or  if  my  father  were  young  enough  and 
strong  enough  to  walk  with  him  on  the  moors  and  show  him  the 
neighbourhood,  or  if  the  peculiar  retirement  of  papa's  habits  were 
not  such  as  to  render  it  irksome  to  him  to  give  much  of  his  society 
to  a  stranger,  even  in  the  house.  Without  being  in  the  least 
misanthropical  or  sour-natured,  papa  habitually  prefers  solitude  to 
society,  and  custom  is  a  tyrant  whose  fetters  it  would  now  be 
impossible  for  him  to  break.  Were  it  not  for  difficulties  of  this 
sort,  I  believe  I  should  ere  this  have  asked  you  to  come  down  to 
Yorkshire,  Papa,  I  know,  would  receive  any  friend  of  Mr,  Smith's 
with  perfect  kindness  and  goodwill,  but  I  likewise  know  that, 
unless  greatly  put  out  of  his  way,  he  could  not  give  a  guest  much 
of  his  company,  and  that,  consequently,  his  entertainment  would 
be  but  dull. 

You  will  see  the  force  of  these  considerations,  and  understand 
why  I  only  ask  Mr.  Taylor  to  come  for  a  day  instead  of  requesting 
the  pleasure  of  his  company  for  a  longer  period ;  you  will  believe 
me  also,  and  so  will  he,  when  I  say  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  see 
him.  He  will  find  Haworth  a  strange,  uncivilised  little  place,  such 
as,  I  dare  say,  he  never  saw  before.  It  is  twenty  miles  distant  from 
Leeds ;  he  will  have  to  come  by  rail  to  Keighley  (there  are  trains 
every  two  hours  I  believe).  He  must  remember  that  at  a  station 
called  Shipley  the  carriages  are  changed,  otherwise  they  will  take 
him  on  to  Skipton  or  Colne,  or  I  know  not  where.  When  he 
reaches  Keighley,  he  will  yet  have  four  miles  to  travel ;  a  con- 
veyance may  be  hired  at  the  Devonshire  Arms— there  Is  no  coach 
or  other  regular  communication. 

I  should  like  to  hear  from  him  before  he  comes,  and  to  know 


'  SHIRLEY '  67 

on  what  day  to  expect  him,  that  I  may  have  the  MS.  ready ; 
if  it  is  not  quite  finished  I  might  send  the  concluding  chapter  or 
two  by  post. 

I  advise  you  to  send  this  letter  to  Mr.  Taylor — it  will  save  you 
the  trouble  of  much  explanation,  and  will  serve  to  apprise  him  of 
what  lies  before  him  ;  he  can  then  weigh  well  with  himself  whether 
it  would  suit  him  to  take  so  much  trouble  for  so  slight  an  end. — 
Believe  me,  my  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  368 

TO   W.   S.   WILLIAMS 

August  29//£,  1849. 

DEAR  SIR, — The  book  is  now  finished  (thank  God)  and  ready 
for  Mr.  Taylor,  but  I  have  not  yet  heard  from  him.  I  thought  I 
should  be  able  to  tell  whether  it  was  equal  to  Jane  Eyre  or  not, 
but  I  find  I  cannot — it  may  be  better,  it  may  be  worse.  I  shall 
be  curious  to  hear  your  opinion,  my  own  is  of  no  value.  I  send 
the  Preface  or  '  Word  to  the  Quarterly '  for  your  perusal. 

Whatever  now  becomes  of  the  work,  the  occupation  of  writing 
it  has  been  a  boon  to  me.  It  took  me  out  of  dark  and  desolate 
reality  into  an  unreal  but  happier  region.  The  worst  of  it  is, 
my  eyes  are  grown  somewhat  weak  and  my  head  somewhat  weary 
and  prone  to  ache  with  close  work.  You  can  write  nothing  of 
value  unless  you  give  yourself  wholly  to  the  theme,  and  when  you 
so  give  yourself  you  lose  appetite  and  sleep — it  cannot  be  helped. 

At  what  time  does  Mr.  Smith  intend  to  bring  the  book  out? 
It  is  his  now.  I  hand  it  and  all  the  trouble  and  care  and  anxiety 
over  to  him — a  good  riddance,  only  I  wish  he  fairly  had  it. — Yours 
sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  369 

TO   W.   S.   WILLIAMS 

August  31^,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  cannot  change  my  preface.  I  can  shed  no 
tears  before  the  public,  nor  utter  any  groan  in  the  public  ear. 
The  deep,  real  tragedy  of  our  domestic  experience  is  yet  terribly 
fresh  in  my  mind  and  memory.  It  is  not  a  time  to  be  talked 
about  to  the  indifferent ;  it  is  not  a  topic  for  allusion  to  in  print. 

No  righteous  indignation  can  I  lavish  on  the  Quarterly.     \  can 


68  THE  BRONTES 

condescend  but  to  touch  it  with  the  lightest  satire.  Believe  me, 
my  dear  sir,  'C.  Bronte'  must  not  here  appear;  what  she  feels  or 
has  felt  is  not  the  question— it  is  'Currer  BellJ  who  was  insulted 
— he  must  reply.  Let  Mr.  Smith  fearlessly  print  the  preface  I 
have  sent— let  him  depend  upon  me  this  once;  even  if  I  prove 
a  broken  reed,  his  fall  cannot  be  dangerous :  a  preface  is  a  short 
distance,  it  is  not  three  volumes. 

I  have  always  felt  certain  that  it  is  a  deplorable  error  in  an 
author  to  assume  the  tragic  tone  in  addressing  the  public  about 
his  own  wrongs  or  griefs.  What  does  the  public  care  about  him 
as  an  individual?  His  wrongs  are  its  sport ;  his  griefs  would  be 
a  bore.  What  we  deeply  feel  is  our  own — we  must  keep  it  to  our- 
selves. Ellis  and  Acton  Bell  were,  for  me,  Emily  and  Anne  ;  my 
sisters — to  me  intimately  near,  tenderly  dear — to  the  public  they 
were  nothing — worse  than  nothing — beings  speculated  upon,  mis- 
understood, misrepresented.  If  I  live,  the  hour  may  come  when 
the  spirit  will  move  me  to  speak  of  them,  but  it  is  not  come  yet. 
— I  am,  my  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely,  C  BRONTiL 

Letter  370 

TO  JAMES  TAYLOR,  CORNHILL 

September  $rd,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — It  will  be  convenient  to  my  father  and  myself 
to  secure  your  visit  on  Saturday  the  8th  inst. 
The  MS.  is  now  complete,  and  ready  for  you. 
Trusting  that  you  have  enjoyed  your  holiday  and  derived  from 
your  excursion  both  pleasure  and  profit, — I  am,  dear  sir,  yours 
sincerely,  C,  BRONTE. 

Letter  371 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

September  io&&,  1849, 

DEAR  SIR,— Your  advice  is  very  good,  and  yet  I  cannot  follow 
it :  I  cannot  alter  now.  It  sounds  absurd,  but  so  it  is* 

The  circumstances  of  Shirley's  being  nervous  on  such  a  matter 
may  appear  incongruous  because  I  fear  it  is  not  well  managed  ; 
otherwise  it  is  perfectly  natural.  In  such  minds,  such  odd  points, 
such  queer  unexpected  inconsistent  weaknesses  are  found — 
perhaps  there  never  was  an  ardent  poetic  temperament,  however 
healthy,  quite  without  them ;  but  they  never  communicate  them 


«  SHIRLEY'  69 

unless  forced,  they  have  a  suspicion  that  the  terror  is  absurd,  and 
keep  it  hidden.  Still  the  thing  is  badly  managed,  and  I  bend  my 
head  and  expect  in  resignation  what,  here^  I  know  I  deserve — the 
lash  of  criticism.  I  shall  wince  when  it  falls,  but  not  scream. 

You  are  right  about  Goethe,  you  are  very  right — he  is  clear,  deep, 
but  very  cold.  I  acknowledge  him  great,  but  cannot  feel  him  genial. 

You  mention  the  literary  coteries.  To  speak  the  truth,  I  recoil 
from  them,  though  I  long  to  see  some  of  the  truly  great  literary 
characters.  However,  this  is  not  to  be  yet — I  cannot  sacrifice  my 
incognito.  And  let  me  be  content  with  seclusion — it  has  its 
advantages.  In  general,  indeed,  I  am  tranquil,  it  is  only  now  and 
then  that  a  struggle  disturbs  me — that  I  wish  for  a  wider  world 
than  Haworth.  When  it  is  past,  Reason  tells  me  how  unfit  I  am 
for  anything  very  different — Yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  372 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

September  loth^  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — My  piece  of  work  is  at  last  finished,  and 
despatched  to  its  destination.  You  must  now  tell  me  when  there 
is  a  chance  of  your  being  able  to  come  here.  I  fear  it  will  now 
be  difficult  to  arrange,  as  it  is  so  near  the  marriage-day.  Note 
well,  it  would  spoil  all  my  pleasure,  if  you  put  yourself  or  any 
one  else  to  inconvenience  to  come  to  Haworth.  But  when  it  is 
convenient,  I  shall  be  truly  glad  to  see  you.  I  thought  the 
patterns  you  sent  charming,  and  all  quite  appropriate.  .  .  .  Papa, 
I  am  thankful  to  say,  is  better,  though  not  strong.  He  is  often 
troubled  with  a  sensation  of  nausea.  My  cold  is  very  much  less 
troublesome,  I  am  sometimes  quite  free  from  it.  A  few  days 
since,  I  had  a  severe  bilious  attack,  the  consequence  of  sitting  too 
closely  to  my  writing;  but  it  is  gone  now.  It  is  the  first  from 
which  I  have  suffered  since  my  return  from  the  seaside,  I  had 
them  every  month  before.  I  hope  you  are  pretty  well  and  also 
your  mother  and  sisters. — Yours  sincerely,  C.  B. 

Letter  373 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

September  13^,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — If  duty  and  the  well-being  of  others  require 
that  you  should  stay  at  home,  I  cannot  permit  myself  to  complain, 


70  THE  BRONTES 

still  I  am  very,  very  sorry  that  circumstances  will  not  permit  us 
to  meet  just  now.  I  would,  without  hesitation,  come  to  Brookroyd, 
if  papa  were  stronger !  but  uncertain  as  are  both  his  health  and 
spirits)  I  could  not  prevail  on  myself  to  leave  him  now.  Let  us 
hope  that  when  we  do  see  each  other,  our  meeting  will  be  all  the 
more  pleasurable  for  being  delayed.  Tell  Mercy  to  keep  up  her 
spirits.  I  believe  the  general  effect  of  the  sea  is  to  make  people 
feel  somewhat  queer  for  the  first  fortnight  or  so  after  their  return 
home.  Dear  Nell,  you  certainly  have  a  heavy  burden  laid  on  your 
shoulders,  but  such  burdens,  if  well  borne,  benefit  the  character ; 
only  we  must  take  the  greatest,  closest,  most  watchful  care  not  to 
grow  proud  of  our  strength,  in  case  we  should  be  enabled  to  bear 
up  under  the  trial.  That  pride,  indeed,  would  be  a  sign  of  radical 
weakness.  The  strength,  if  strength  we  have,  is  certainly  never 
in  our  own  selves  ;  it  is  given  us.  Let  me  know  when  you  go  to 
Leeds,  1  will  then  commission  you  about  the  card-case.  Would 
£i  buy  a  nice  one?  I  should  like  it  to  be  a  really  nice  one. 
Amelia  Rmgrose  wrote  me  a  very  kind  note,  which — shameful  to 
say,  I  have  not  answered.  She  will  form  a  bad  opinion  of  me,  and 
I  deserve  it  I  was  glad  to  hear  that  Rosy  was  better,  I  should 
be  tempted  to  make  a  pet  of  that  Rosy,  to  spoil  her,  and  I  dare 
say,  like  poor  Martha  Taylor,  she  might  soon  be  spoiled.  Engag- 
ing as  I  think  her,  I  ascribe  to  her  no  great  or  profound  qualities. 
Write  to  me  when  you  find  a  corner  of  time.  Remember  me  to 
your  mother, — Yours,  C.  B. 

PS. — Be  as  forbearing  with  Mercy  as  you  can.  I  dare  say  there 
mixes  in  her  feelings  just  now  some  little  sense  of  bitterness  that 
she,  too,  is  not  going  to  be  married.  It  is  a  pity  if  such  is  the 
case,  but  for  oae  of  her  habits  of  thought  it  is  natural 

Poor  Mr.  Glinger's  long  and  tedious  illness  prepares  the  survivors 
for  the  last  scene ;  perhaps  it  may,  but  it  is  a  painful  preparation. 

Letter  374 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

September  13^,  1849* 

MY  BEAR  SIR, — I  want  to  know  your  opinion  of  the  subject  of 
this  proof-sheet.     Mr.  Taylor  censured  it;    he  considers  as  de- 
fective all  that  portion  which  relates  to  Shirley's  nervousness — the 
bite  of  a  dog,  etc.     How  did  it  strike  you  on  reading  it? 
I  ask  this  though  I  well  know  it  cannot  now  be  altered,     I  can 


'  SHIRLEY'  71 

work  indefatigably  at  the  correction  of  a  work  before  it  leaves  my 
hands,  but  when  once  I  have  looked  on  it  as  completed  and 
submitted  to  the  inspection  of  others,  it  becomes  next  to  im- 
possible to  alter  or  amend.  With  the  heavy  suspicion  on  my 
mind  that  all  may  not  be  right,  I  yet  feel  forced  to  put  up  with 
the  inevitably  wrong. 

Reading  has,  of  late,  been  my  great  solace  and  recreation.  I 
have  read  J.  C.  Hare's  Guesses  at  Truth^  a  book  containing  things 
that  in  depth  and  far-sought  wisdom  sometimes  recall  the 
Thoughts  of  Pascal,  only  it  is  as  the  light  of  the  moon  recalls 
that  of  the  sun. 

I  have  read  with  pleasure  a  little  book  on  English  Social  Life 
by  the  wife  of  Archbishop  Whately.  Good  and  intelligent  women 
write  well  on  such  subjects.  This  lady  speaks  of  governesses.  I 
was  struck  by  the  contrast  offered  in  her  manner  of  treating  the 
topic  to  that  of  Miss  Rigby  in  the  Quarterly.  How  much  finer 
the  feeling — how  much  truer  the  feeling — how  much  more  delicate 
the  mind  here  revealed  ! 

I  have  read  David  Copperfield\  it  seems  to  me  very  good — 
admirable  in  some  parts.  You  said  it  had  affinity  to  Jane.  Eyre. 
It  has,  now  and  then — only  what  an  advantage  has  Dickens  in 
his  varied  knowledge  of  men  and  things !  I  am  beginning  to  read 
Eckermann's  Goethe — it  promises  to  be  a  most  interesting  work. 
Honest,  simple,  single-minded  Eckermann!  Great,  powerful, 
giant-souled,  but  also  profoundly  egotistical,  old  Johann  Wolfgang 
von  Goethe !  He  was  a  mighty  egotist — I  see  he  was :  he 
thought  no  more  of  swallowing  up  poor  Eckermann's  existence 
in  his  own  than  the  whale  thought  of  swallowing  Jonah. 

The  worst  of  reading  graphic  accounts  of  such  men,  of  seeing 
graphic  pictures  of  the  scenes,  the  society,  in  which  they  moved,  is 
that  it  excites  a  too  tormenting  longing  to  look  on  the  reality. 
But  does  such  reality  now  exist  ?  Amidst  all  the  troubled  waters 
of  European  society  does  such  a  vast,  strong,  selfish,  old  Leviathan 
now  roll  ponderous !  I  suppose  not — Believe  me,  yours  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  375 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

September  15^,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — You  observed  that  the  French  of  Shirley  might 
be  cavilled  at  There  is  a  long  paragraph  written  In  the  French 


72  THE  BRONTES 

language  in  that  chapter  entitled  '  Le  cheval  dompt<§.'  I  forget 
the  number.  I  fear  it  will  have  a  pretentious  air.  If  you  deem 
it  advisable  and  will  return  the  chapter,  I  will  efface  and  substitute 
something  else  in  English. — Yours  sincerely, 

CHARLOTTE  BRONTE. 

Letter  376 

TO  W.   S.  WILLIAMS 

September  ijtfi,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,— Your  letter  gave  me  great  pleasure.  An  author 
who  has  showed  his  book  to  none,  held  no  consultation  about 
plan,  subject,  characters,  or  incidents,  asked  and  had  no  opinion 
from  one  living  being,  but  fabricated  it  darkly  in  the  silent  work- 
shop of  his  own  brain — such  an  author  awaits  with  a  singular 
feeling  the  report  of  the  first  impression  produced  by  his  creation 
in  a  quarter  where  he  places  confidence,  and  truly  glad  he  is  when 
that  report  proves  favourable. 

Do  you  think  this  book  will  tend  to  strengthen  the  idea  that 
Currer  Bell  is  a  woman,  or  will  it  favour  a  contrary  opinion  ? 

I  return  the  proof-sheets.  Will  they  print  all  the  French 
phrases  in  italics?  I  hope  not,  it  makes  them  look  somehow 
obtrusively  conspicuous. 

I  have  no  time  to  add  more  lest  I  should  be  too  late  for  the 
post. — Yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTii. 

Letter  377 

TO  JAMES  TAYLOR,  CORN  HILL 

September  zo^fc,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — It  is  time  I  answered  the  note  which  I  received 
from  you  last  Thursday ;  I  should  have  replied  to  it  before  had  I 
not  been  kept  mc-re  than  usually  engaged  by  the  presence  of  a 
clergyman  in  the  house,  and  the  indisposition  of  one  of  our  servants. 

As  you  may  conjecture,  it  cheered  and  pleased  me  much  to 
learn  that  the  opinion  of  my  friends  in  Cornhill  was  favourable  to 
Shirley — that,  on  the  whole,  it  was  considered  no  falling  off  from 
fane  Eyre.  I  am  trying,  however,  not  to  encourage  too  sanguine 
an  expectation  of  a  favourable  reception  by  the  public :  the  seeds 
of  prejudice  have  been  sown,  and  I  suppose  the  produce  will  have 
to  be  reaped — but  we  shall  see, 


'SHIRLEY5  73 

I  read  with  pleasure  Friends  in  Council,  and  with  very  great 
pleasure  The  Thoughts  and  Opinions  of  a  Statesman.  It  is  the 
record  of  what  may  with  truth  be  termed  a  beautiful  mind — - 
serene,  harmonious,  elevated,  and  pure ;  it  bespeaks,  too,  a  heart 
full  of  kindness  and  sympathy.  I  like  it  much. 

Papa  has  been  pretty  well  during  the  past  week.  He  begs  to 
join  me  in  kind  remembrances  to  yourself. — Believe  me,  my  dear 
sir,  yours  very  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  378 

TO  W.   S.  WILLIAMS 

September  2ist,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SlR, — I  am  obliged  to  you  for  preserving  my  secret, 
being  at  least  as  anxious  as  ever  (more  anxious  I  cannot  well  be) 
to  keep  quiet.  You  asked  me  in  one  of  your  letters  lately 
whether  I  thought  I  should  escape  identification  in  Yorkshire, 
I  am  so  little  known  that  I  think  I  shall.  Besides,  the  book  is 
far  less  founded  on  the  Real  than  perhaps  appears.  It  would  be 
difficult  to  explain  to  you  how  little  actual  experience  I  have  had 
of  life,  how  few  persons  I  have  known,  and  how  very  few  have 
known  me. 

As  an  instance  how  the  characters  have  been  managed  take 
that  of  Mr.  Helstone.  If  this  character  had  an  original  it  was  in 
the  person  of  a  clergyman  who  died  some  years  since  at  the 
advanced  age  of  eighty.  I  never  saw  him  except  once — at  the 
consecration  of  a  church — when  I  was  a  child  of  ten  years  old.  I 
was  then  struck  with  his  appearance  and  stern,  martial  air.  At 
a  subsequent  period  I  heard  him  talked  about  in  the  neighbour- 
hood where  he  had  resided  :  some  mentioned  him  with  enthusiasm, 
others  with  detestation.  I  listened  to  various  anecdotes,  balanced 
evidence  against  evidence,  and  drew  an  inference.  The  original 
of  Mr.  Hall  I  have  seen  ;  he  knows  me  slightly  ;  but  he  would  as 
soon  think  I  had  closely  observed  him  or  taken  him  for  a  character 
— he  would  as  soon,  indeed,  suspect  me  of  writing  a  book — a 
novel — as  he  would  his  dog  Prince.  Margaret  Hall  called  Jane 
Eyre  a  l  wicked  book/  on  the  authority  of  the  Quarterly ;  an 
expression  which,  coming  from  her,  I  will  here  confess,  struck 
somewhat  deep.  It  opened  my  eyes  to  the  harm  the  Quarterly 
had  done.  Margaret  would  not  have  called  it '  wicked '  if  she  had 
not  been  told  so. 


74  THE  BRONTES 

No  matter — whether  known    or  unknown — misjudged   or  the 

contrary I  am  resolved  not  to  write  otherwise.     I  shall  bend  as 

my  powers  tend.  The  two  human  beings  who  understood  me, 
and  whom  I  understood,  are  gone,  I  have  some  that  love  me  yet, 
and  whom  I  love  without  expecting,  or  having  a  right  to  expect, 
that  they  shall  perfectly  understand  me.  I  am  satisfied  ;  but  I 
must  have  my  own  way  in  the  matter  of  writing.  The  loss  of 
what  we  possess  nearest  and  dearest  to  us  in  this  world  produces 
an  effect  upon  the  character :  we  search  out  what  we  have  yet  left 
that  can  support,  and,  when  found,  we  cling  to  it  with  a  hold  of 
new-strung  tenacity.  The  faculty  of  imagination  lifted  me  when 
I  was  sinking,  three  months  ago ;  its  active  exercise  has  kept  my 
head  above  water  since ;  its  results  cheer  me  now,  for  I  feel  they 
have  enabled  me  to  give  pleasure  to  others,  I  am  thankful  to 
God,  who  gave  me  the  faculty ;  and  it  is  for  me  a  part  of  my 
religion  to  defend  this  gift  and  to  profit  by  its  possession.' — Yours 
sincerely,  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE. 


Letter  379 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

September  24^,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — You  have  to  fight  your  way  through  labour 
and  difficulty  it  appears,  but  I  am  truly  glad  now  you  did  not 
come  to  Haworth.  As  matters  have  turned  out,  you  would  have 
found  only  discomfort  and  gloom.  Both  Tabby  and  Martha  are 
at  this  moment  ill  in  bed.  Martha's  illness  has  been  most  serious  ; 
she  was  seized  with  inflammation  ten  days  ago.  Tabby  can 
neither  stand  nor  walk.  I  have  one  of  Martha's  sisters,  and  her 
mother  comes  up  sometimes.  There  was  one  day  last  week  when 
I  fairly  broke  down  for  ten  minutes,  sat  and  cried  like  a  fool 
Martha's  illness  was  at  its  height,  a  cry  from  Tabby  had  called 
me  into  the  kitchen  and  I  found  her  laid  on  the  floor,  her  head 
under  the  grate;  she  had  fallen  from  her  chair  in  attempting 
to  rise.  Papa  had  just  been  declaring  that  Martha  was  in 
imminent  danger.  I  was  myself  depressed  with  headache  and 
sickness.  That  day  I  hardly  knew  what  to  do,  or  where  to  turn. 
Thank  God!  Martha  is  now  convalescent;  Tabby,  I  trust,  will 
be  better  soon.  Papa  is  pretty  well.  I  have  the  satisfaction 
of  knowing  that  my  publishers  are  delighted  with  what  I  sent 


*  SHIRLEY3  75 

them.    This    supports.     But   life  is   a   battle.    May   we  all  be 
enabled  to  fight  it  well— Yours  faithfully,  C.  B. 

This  letter  reflects  all  the  melancholy  aspects  of  a  home 
where  comparative  penury  prevails.  It  is  striking  by  the 
light  of  the  opulence  that  would  come  to  a  novelist  of  our 
day  who  had  written  a  book  as  successful  as  Jane  Eyre. 
He  or  she  would  be  certain  not  of  ^500,  but  at  least  of 
^5000,  and  a  royalty  on  a  second  novel  that  would  secure 
every  personal  comfort.  Yet  no  particular  blame  can  be 
attached  to  her  publishers  who,  as  the  practices  of  the 
profession  then  were,  seem  to  have  treated  her  generously. 
At  any  rate  there  were  no  rival  offers  of  large  sums  as 
would  assuredly  be  the  case  to-day.  Charlotte  Bronte 
received  fifteen  hundred  pounds  in  all  for  the  copyright 
of  her  three  novels,  Jane  Eyre,  Shirley,  and  Villette. 
The  manuscript  of  Jane  Eyre,  which  has  been  preserved, 
would  easily  fetch  a  thousand  pounds  in  the  sale-rooms 
to-day.  Some  hundreds  of  pounds  have  been  offered 
for  it. 

Letter  380 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

September  28^,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Martha  is  now  almost  well,  and  Tabby  much 
better.  A  huge  monster-package  from  ( Nelson,  Leeds,'  came 
yesterday.  You  want  chastising  roundly  and  soundly ;  such  are 
the  thanks  for  all  your  trouble. 

I  congratulate  both  you  and  Ann  on  the  business  being  well 
over.  May  the  married  pair  be  happy  and  never  regret  their  union ! 

I  see  by  the  paper  Mr.  A is  married  at  last,  and  poor  R.  T.  is 

dead.  Mr.  G too,  it  seems,  has  done  with  this  life  and  its 

sorrows  ;  doubtless,  likewise,  he  has  exchanged  its  joys  for  a  better 
and  more  perfect  portion.  Whenever  you  come  to  Haworth  you 
shall  certainly  have  a  thorough  drenching  in  your  own  shower- 
bath.  I  have  not  yet  unpacked  the  wretch.— Yours,  as  you 
deserve,  C.  B. 


76  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  381 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

September  i^th)  1849. 

DEAR  SIR,— I  have  made  the  alteration ;  but  I  have  made  it 
to  please  Cornhill,  not  the  public  nor  the  critics. 

I  am  sorry  to  say  Newby  does  know  my  real  name.  I  wish  he 
did  not,  but  that  cannot  be  helped.  Meantime,  though  I  earnestly 
wish  to  preserve  my  incognito,  I  live  under  no  slavish  fear  of 
discovery,  I  am  ashamed  of  nothing  I  have  written — not  a  line. 

The  envelope  containing  the  first  proof  and  your  letter  had 
been  received  open  at  the  General  Post  Office  and  repealed  there. 
Perhaps  it  was  accident,  but  I  think  it  better  to  inform  you  of  the 
circumstance. — Yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  382 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

October  l$t,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  am  chagrined  about  the  envelope  being 
opened  :  I  see  it  is  the  work  of  prying  curiosity,  and  now  it  would 
be  useless  to  make  a  stir — what  mischief  is  to  be  apprehended  is 
already  done.  It  was  not  done  at  Haworth.  I  know  the  people 
of  the  post-office  there,  and  am  sure  they  would  not  venture  on 
such  a  step ;  besides,  the  Haworth  people  have  long  since  set  me 
down  as  bookish  and  quiet,  and  trouble  themselves  no  farther 
about  me.  But  the  gossiping  inquisitiveness  of  small  towns  is  rife  at 
Keighley  ;  there  they  are  sadly  puzzled  to  guess  why  I  never  visit, 
encourage  no  overtures  to  acquaintance,  and  always  stay  at  home. 
Those  packets  passing  backwards  and  forwards  by  the  post  have 
doubtless  aggravated  their  curiosity.  Well,  I  am  sorry,  but  I  shall 
try  to  wait  patiently  and  not  vex  myself  too  much,  come  what  will 
I  am  glad  you  like  the  English  substitute  for  the  French  devoir* 
The  parcel  of  books  came  on  Saturday.  I  write  to  Mr.  Taylor 
by  this  post  to  acknowledge  Its  receipt  His  opinion  of  Shirley 
seems  in  a  great  measure  to  coincide  with  yours,  only  he  expresses 
it  rather  differently  to  you,  owing  to  the  difference  in  your  casts  of 
mind.  Are  you  not  different  on  some  points  ? — Yours  sincerely, 

C  BRONT& 


'  SHIRLEY'  77 

Letter  383 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH 

October  4^,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  must  not  thank  you  for,  but  acknowledge  the 
receipt  of,  your  letter.  The  business  is  certainly  very  bad  ;  worse 
than  I  thought,  and  much  worse  than  my  father  has  any  idea  of. 
In  fact,  the  little  railway  property  I  possessed,  according  to 
original  prices,  formed  already  a  small  competency  for  me,  with 
my  views  and  habits.  Now  scarcely  any  portion  of  it  can,  with 
security,  be  calculated  upon.  I  must  open  this  view  of  the  case  to 
my  father  by  degrees  ;  and,  meanwhile,  wait  patiently  till  I  see 
how  affairs  are  likely  to  turn.  .  .  .  However  the  matter  may 
terminate,  I  ought  perhaps  to  be  rather  thankful  than  dissatisfied 
When  I  look  at  my  own  case,  and  compare  it  with  that  of 
thousands  besides,  I  scarcely  see  room  for  a  murmur.  Many, 
very  many,  are  by  the  late  strange  railway  system  deprived  almost 
of  their  daily  bread.  Such,  then,  as  have  only  lost  provision  laid 
up  for  the  future  should  take  care  how  they  complain.  The 
thought  that  Shirley  has  given  pleasure  at  Cornhill  yields  me 
much  quiet  comfort.  No  doubt,  however,  you  are,  as  I  am, 
prepared  for  critical  severity ;  but  I  have  good  hopes  that  the 
vessel  is  sufficiently  sound  of  construction  to  weather  a  gale  or 
two,  and  to  make  a  prosperous  voyage  for  you  in  the  end. 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  384 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

November  isf,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  reached  home  yesterday,  and  found  your 
letter  and  one  from  Mr.  Lewes,  and  one  from  the  Peace  Congress 
Committee,  awaiting  my  arrival.  The  last  document  it  is  now  too 
late  to  answer,  for  it  was  an  invitation  to  Currer  Bell  to  appear 
on  the  platform  at  their  meeting  at  Exeter  Hall  last  Tuesday ! 
A  wonderful  figure  Mr.  Currer  Bell  would  have  cut  under  such 
circumstances!  Should  the  'Peace  Congress'  chance  to  read 
Shirley  they  will  wash  their  hands  of  its  author. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  Mr.  Thackeray  is  better,  but  I  did  not 


78  THE  BRONTES 

know  he  had  been  seriously  ill,  I  thought  it  was  only  a  literary 
indisposition,  You  must  tell  me  what  he  thinks  of  Shirley  if  he 
gives  you  any  opinion  on  the  subject. 

I  am  also  glad  to  hear  that  Mr.  Smith  is  pleased  with  the  com- 
mercial prospects  of  the  work.  I  try  not  to  be  anxious  about  its 
literary  fate ;  and  if  I  cannot  be  quite  stoical,  I  think  I  am  still 
tolerably  resigned. 

Mr.  Lewes  does  not  like  the  opening  chapter,  wherein  he 
resembles  you. 

I  have  permitted  myself  the  treat  of  spending  the  last  week 
with  my  friend  Ellen,  Her  residence  is  in  a  far  more  populous 
and  stirring  neighbourhood  than  this.  Whenever  I  go  there  I 
am  unavoidably  forced  into  society — clerical  society  chiefly. 

During  my  late  visit  I  have  too  often  had  reason,  sometimes 
in  a  pleasant,  sometimes  in  a  painful  form,  to  fear  that  I  no  longer 
walk  invisible.  Jane  Eyre,  it  appears,  has  been  read  all  over  the 
district — a  fact  of  which  I  never  dreamt — a  circumstance  of  which 
the  possibility  never  occurred  to  me.  I  met  sometimes  with  new 
deference,  with  augmented  kindness :  old  schoolfellows  and  old 
teachers,  too,  greeted  me  with  generous  warmth*  And  again, 
ecclesiastical  brows  lowered  thunder  at  me.  When  I  confronted 
one  or  two  large-made  priests,  I  longed  for  the  battle  to  come  on. 
I  wish  they  would  speak  out  plainly.  You  must  not  understand 
that  my  schoolfellows  and  teachers  were  of  the  Clergy  Daughters* 
School — in  fact,  I  was  never  there  but  for  one  little  year  as  a  very 
little  girl.  I  am  certain  I  have  long  been  forgotten  ;  though  for 
myself,  I  remember  all  and  everything  clearly :  early  impressions 
are  ineffaceable. 

I  have  just  received  the  Daily  News.  Let  me  speak  the  truth 
— when  I  read  it  my  heart  sickened  over  it  It  is  not  a  good 
review,  it  is  unutterably  false.  If  Shirley  strikes  all  readers  as  it 
has  struck  that  one,  but — I  shall  not  say  what  follows. 

On  the  whole  I  am  glad  a  decidedly  bad  notice  has  come  first — 
a  notice  whose  inexpressible  ignorance  first  stuns  and  then  stirs 
me.  Are  there  no  such  men  as  the  Helstones  and  Yorkcs? 

Yes,  there  are. 

Is  the  first  chapter  disgusting  or  vulgar? 

It  is  not)  it  is  real. 

As  for  the  praise  of  such  a  critic,  I  find  it  silly  and  nauseous, 
and  I  scorn  it 

Were  my  sisters  now  alive  they  and  I  would  laugh  over  this 


'SHIRLEY'  79 

notice ;  but  they  sleep,  they  will  wake  no  more  for  me,  and  I  am 
a  fool  to  be  so  moved  by  what  is  not  worth  a  sigh. — Believe  me, 
yours  sincerely,  C.  B. 

You  must  spare  me  if  I  seem  hasty,  I  fear  I  really  am  not  so 
firm  as  I  used  to  be,  nor  so  patient.  Whenever  any  shock  comes, 
I  feel  that  almost  all  supports  have  been  withdrawn. 


Letter  385 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

November  tst>  '49. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  reached  home  safely  about  3  o'clock.  You 
too  would  have  fine  weather  for  your  journey,  to-day  it  is  wet  and 
foggy,  so  it  is  well  I  did  not  stay. 

I  found  papa  very  well,  Tabby  better,  and  Martha  quite  fat  and 
strong,  for  which  state  of  things  I  was  most  thankful.  Some 
letters  were  awaiting  my  arrival ;  I  enclose  one  for  your  perusal, 
which  may  perhaps  amuse  you.  Send  it  back.  All  the  house 
with  one  voice  inquired  after  you.  Also  many  questions  were 
asked  about  the  Bride.  Be  sure  when  you  write  to  tell  me  how 
Amelia  Ringrose  is.  In  haste, — Yours,  C.  B. 

I  send  two  letters,  one  from  the  Peace  Congress  to  Currer 
Bell !  The  other  from  Williams. 


Letter  386 

TO   G.  H.   LEWES 

November  ij-/,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — It  is  about  a  year  and  a  half  since  you  wrote 
to  me ;  but  it  seems  a  longer  period,  because  since  then  it  has 
been  my  lot  to  pass  some  black  milestones  in  the  journey  of  life. 
Since  then  there  have  been  intervals  when  I  have  ceased  to  care 
about  literature  and  critics  and  fame  ;  when  I  have  lost  sight  of 
whatever  was  prominent  in  my  thoughts  at  the  first  publication 
of  Jane  Eyre;  but  now  I  want  these  things  to  come  back  vividly, 
if  possible :  consequently  it  was  a  pleasure  to  receive  your  note. 
I  wish  you  did  not  think  me  a  woman.  I  wish  all  reviewers 
believed  '  Currer  Bell '  to  be  a  man  ;  they  would  be  more  just  to 
him.  You  will,  I  know,  keep  measuring  me  by  some  standard  of 


80  THE  BRONTES 

what  you  deem  becoming  to  my  sex  ;  where  I  am  not  what  you 
consider  graceful  you  will  condemn  me.  All  mouths  will  be  open 
against  that  first  chapter,  and  that  first  chapter  is  as  true  as  the 
Bible,  nor  is  it  exceptionable.  Come  what  will,  I  cannot,  when 
I  write,  think  always  of  myself  and  of  what  is  elegant  and 
charming  in  femininity ;  it  is  not  on  those  terms,  or  with  such  ideas, 
I  ever  took  pen  in  hand  :  and  if  it  is  only  on  such  terms  my 
writing  will  be  tolerated,  I  shall  pass  away  from  the  public  and 
trouble  it  no  more,  Out  of  obscurity  I  came,  to  obscurity  I  can 
easily  return.  Standing  afar  off,  I  now  watch  to  see  what  will 
become  of  Shirley.  My  expectations  are  very  low,  and  my  antici- 
pations somewhat  sad  and  bitter  ;  still,  I  earnestly  conjure  you  to 
say  honestly  what  you  think ;  flattery  would  be  worse  than  vain  ; 
there  is  no  consolation  in  flattery.  As  for  condemnation,  I  cannot, 
on  reflection,  see  why  I  should  much  fear  it ;  there  is  no  one  but 
myself  to  suffer  therefrom,  and  both  happiness  and  suffering  in 
this  life  soon  pass  away.  Wishing  you  all  success  in  your  Scottish 
expedition, — I  am,  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BKLL. 


Letter  387 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEV 

November  5*$,  1849, 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  afraid  by  Amelia's  account  you  were 
sadly  fagged  with  your  expedition  to  Leeds  with  me.  I  shall  be 
interested  in  hearing  your  account  of  the  visit  to  Himsworth. 

The  Station  people  in  our  part  of  the  world  have  a  strange 
notion  of  the  proper  plan  of  discharging  their  duties.  My  parcel 
of  copies  from  London  has  been  lying  at  Bradford  for  nearly  a 
week.  When  I  sent  for  it,  they  made  answer  there  was  none.  It 
is  only  just  now  I  have  got  it.  I  will  (D.v.)  send  you  two  copies 
on  Thursday,  one  for  yourself  and  one  for  Mary  Gorham,  I  shall 
order  the  parcel  to  be  left  at  the  Commercial  Inn. 

Hoping  to  hear  from  you  soon  again,  I  am,  dear  Nell,  yours 
faithfully,  C,  BRONT& 

My  chest  has  felt  much  better  since  I  came  home  I  think 
change  of  air  or  weather  occasioned  greater  irritation  than  usual 
while  I  was  at  Brookroyd  I  think  of  you  and  Amelia  often : 
sometimes  I  do  wish  I  was  near  enough  to  step  in  and  spend  the 
evenings  with  you. 


SHIRLEY '  81 


Letter  388 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

November  5/^5  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  did  not  receive  the  parcel  of  copies  till 
Saturday  evening.  Everything  sent  by  Bradford  is  long  in 
reaching  me.  It  is,  I  think,  better  to  direct :  Keighley.  I  was 
very  much  pleased  with  the  appearance  and  getting  up  of  the 
book ;  it  looks  well. 

I  have  got  the  Examiner  and  your  letter.  You  are  very  good 
not  to  be  angry  with  me,  for  I  wrote  in  Indignation  and  grief. 
The  critic  of  the  Daily  News  struck  me  as  to  the  last  degree  in- 
competent, ignorant,  and  flippant.  A  thrill  of  mutiny  went  all 
through  me  when  I  read  his  small  effusion.  To  be  judged  by 
such  a  one  revolted  me.  I  ought,  however,  to  have  controlled 
myself,  and  I  did  not.  I  am  willing  to  be  judged  by  the 
Examiner — I  like  the  Examiner.  Fonblanque  has  power,  he  has 
discernment — I  bend  to  his  censorship,  I  am  grateful  for  his 
praise ;  his  blame  deserves  consideration  ;  when  he  approves,  I 
permit  myself  a  moderate  emotion  of  pride.  Am  I  wrong  in 
supposing  that  critique  to  be  written  by  Mr.  Fonblanque  ?  But 
whether  It  is  by  him  or  Forster,  I  am  thankful. 

In  reading  the  critiques  of  the  other  papers — when  I  get  them 
— I  will  try  to  follow  your  advice  and  preserve  my  equanimity. 
But  I  cannot  be  sure  of  doing  this,  for  I  had  good  resolutions  and 
intentions  before,  and,  you  see,  I  failed. 

You  ask  me  if  I  am  related  to  Nelson.  No,  I  never  heard  that 
I  was.  The  rumour  must  have  originated  in  our  name  resembling 
his  title.  I  wonder  who  that  former  schoolfellow  of  mine  was  that 
told  Mr.  Lewes,  or  how  she  had  been  enabled  to  identify  Currer 
Bell  with  C.  Bronte.  She  could  not  have  been  a  Cowan  Bridge 
girl,  none  of  them  can  possibly  remember  me.  They  might 
remember  my  eldest  sister,  Maria ;  her  prematurely-developed 
and  remarkable  intellect,  as  well  as  the  mildness,  wisdom,  and 
fortitude  of  her  character,  might  have  left  an  indelible  impression 
on  some  observant  rnind  amongst  her  companions.  My  second 
sister,  Elizabeth,  too,  may  perhaps  be  remembered,  but  I  cannot 
conceive  that  I  left  a  trace  behind  me.  My  career  was  a  very 
quiet  one.  I  was  plodding  and  industrious,  perhaps  I  was  very 

VOL.  II,  F 


82  THE  BRONTES 

grave,  for  I  suffered  to  see  my  sisters  perishing,  but  I  think  I  was 
remarkable  for  nothing,— Believe,  my  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely, 

C  BRONTfi, 


Letter  389 

TO  JAMES  TAYLOR,   CORNHILL 

November  6tk,  r  849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,— I  am  afraid  Mr.  Williams  told  you  I  was 
sadly  'put  out'  about  the  Daily  News,  and  I  believe  it  is  to  that 
circumstance  I  owe  your  letters.  But  I  have  now  made  good 
resolutions,  which  were  tried  this  morning  by  another  notice  in 
the  same  style  in  the  Observer.  The  praise  of  such  critics 
mortifies  more  than  their  blame;  an  author  who  becomes  the 
object  of  it  cannot  help  momentarily  wishing  he  had  never 
written.  And  to  speak  of  the  press  being  still  ignorant  of  my 
being  a  woman !  Why  can  they  not  be  content  to  take  Currcr 
Bell  for  a  man  ? 

I  imagined,  mistakenly  it  now  appears,  that  Shirley  bore  fewer 
traces  of  a  female  hand  than  Jane  Eyre ;  that  I  have  misjudged 
disappoints  me  a  little,  though  I  cannot  exactly  see  where  the 
error  lies.  You  keep  to  your  point  about  the  curates.  Since  you 
think  me  to  blame,  you  do  right  to  tell  me  so.  I  rather  fancy  I 
shall  be  left  in  a  minority  of  one  on  that  subject. 

I  was  indeed  very  much  interested  in  the  books  you  sent 
Eckermann's  Conversations  with  Goethe,  Guesses  at  Truth,  Friends 
in  Council,  and  the  little  work  on  English  social  life  pleased  me 
particularly,  and  the  last  not  least.  We  sometimes  take  a 
partiality  to  books  as  to  characters,  not  on  account  of  any 
brilliant  intellect  or  striking  peculiarity  they  boast,  but  for  the 
sake  of  something  good,  delicate,  and  genuine.  I  thought  that 
small  book  the  production  of  a  lady,  and  an  amiable,  sensible 
woman,  and  I  like  it. 

You  must  not  think  of  selecting  any  more  works  for  me  yet,  my 
stock  is  still  far  from  exhausted. 

I  accept  your  offer  respecting  $&Athen&um\  it  is  a  paper  I 
should  like  much  to  see,  providing  you  can  send  it  without 
trouble.  It  shall  be  punctually  returned. 

Papa's  health  has,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  been  very  satisfactory 


'  SHIRLEY5  83 

of  late,    The  other  day  he  walked  to  Keighley  and  back,  and  was 
very  little  fatigued.     I  am  myself  pretty  well. 

With  thanks  for  your  kind  letter  and  good  wishes, — Believe  me, 
yours  sincerely,  C  BRONTE. 


Letter  390 

TO   W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

November  i$tk,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  received  since  I  wrote  last  the  Globe, 
Standard  of  Freedom,  Britannia,  Economist,  and  Weekly  Chronicle. 

How  is  Shirley  getting  on,  and  what  is  now  the  general  feeling 
respecting  the  work  ? 

As  far  as  I  can  judge  from  the  tone  of  the  newspapers,  it  seems 
that  those  who  were  most  charmed  with  Jane  Eyre  are  the  least 
pleased  with  Shirley,  they  are  disappointed  at  not  finding  the 
same  excitement,  interest,  stimulus  ;  while  those  who  spoke  dis- 
paragingly of  Jane  Eyre  like  Shirley  a  little  better  than  her 
predecessor,  I  suppose  its  dryer  matter  suits  their  dryer  minds. 
But  I  feel  that  the  fiat  for  which  I  wait  does  not  depend  on 
newspapers,  except,  indeed,  such  newspapers  as  the  Examiner. 
The  monthlies  and  quarterlies  will  pronounce  it,  I  suppose.  Mere 
novel-readers,  it  is  evident,  think  Shirley  something  of  a  failure. 
Still,  the  majority  of  the  notices  have  on  the  whole  been 
favourable.  That  in  the  Standard  of  Freedom  was  very  kindly 
expressed ;  and  coming  from  a  dissenter,  William  Howitt,  I 
wonder  thereat. 

Are  you  satisfied  at  Cornhill,  or  the  contrary  ?  I  have  read 
part  of  The  Caxtons,  and,  when  I  have  finished,  will  tell  you  what 
I  think  of  it ;  meantime,  I  should  very  much  like  to  hear  your 
opinion.  Perhaps  I  shall  keep  mine  till  I  see  you,  whenever  that 
may  be. 

I  am  trying  by  degrees  to  inure  myself  to  the  thought  of  some 
day  stepping  over  to  Keighley,  taking  the  train  to  Leeds,  thence 
to  London,  and  once  more  venturing  to  set  foot  in  the  strange, 
busy  whirl  of  the  Strand  and  Cornhill.  I  want  to  talk  to  you  a 
little  and  to  hear  by  word  of  mouth  how  matters  are  progressing. 
Whenever  I  come,  I  must  come  quietly  and  but  for  a  short  time — 
I  should  be  unhappy  to  leave  papa  longer  than  a  fortnight- 
Believe  me,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


84  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  391 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

November  i6///,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— Amelia's  letter  gave  me  a  full  and  true  account 
of  your  visit  to  Hunsworth.  It  was  really  very  interesting  and 
very  well  written.  All  the  little  details  so  nicely  put  in,  making 
such  a  graphic  whole.  I  can  gather  from  it  that  she  was  an  object 
of  special  attention.  Joe  Taylor  has  written  to  me  to  ask  an 
opinion  of  Miss  Ringrose.  Perhaps  you  hacl  better  not  tell  her 
this.  It  might  embarrass  her  painfully  when  he  sees  her  again, 
and  he  is  certain  to  call.  I  gave  him  a  faithful  opinion.  I  said 
she  was  what  I  called  truly  amiable,  actively  useful,  genuinely 
good-natured,  sufficiently  sensible,  neither  unobservant  nor 
without  discrimination,  but  not  highly  intellectual,  brilliant  or 
profound.  I  did  not,  of  course,  say  whether  I  thought  she  would 
suit  him  or  not.  I  did  not  treat  the  subject  as  if  I  suspected 
he  had  any  thoughts  of  her,  I  simply  answered  his  question 
without  the  slightest  comment. 

You  are  not  to  suppose  any  of  the  characters  in  Shirley  intended 
as  literal  portraits.  It  would  not  suit  the  rules  of  art,  nor  my  own 
feelings,  to  write  in  that  style.  We  only  suffer  reality  to  suggest, 
never  to  dictate.  The  heroines  are  abstractions,  and  the  heroes 
also.  Qualities  I  have  seen,  loved,  and  admired,  are  here  and 
there  put  in  as  decorative  gems,  to  be  preserved  in  that  setting. 
Since  you  say  you  could  recognise  the  originals  of  all  except  the 
heroines,  pray  whom  did  you  suppose  the  two  Moorcs  to  repre- 
sent ?  I  send  you  a  couple  of  reviews  ;  the  one  in  the  Examiner 
is  written  by  Albany  Fonblanque,  who  is  called  the  most  brilliant 
political  writer  of  the  day,  a  man  whose  dictum  is  much  thought 
of  in  London.  The  other,  in  the  Standard  of  Freedom,  is  written 
by  William  Howitt,  a  Quaker !  You  must  take  care  of  the  papers, 
bring  them  with  you  when  you  come  to  Haworth.  I  have  some 
thoughts  of  getting  my  London  trip  over  before  you  come,  and 
then  I  shall  have  something  to  tell  you.  Amelia  gives  only  a 
poor  account  of  you.  Take  care  of  yourself.  I  have  the  dress- 
maker with  me  just  now.  I  don't  know  how  I  shall  like  her, 
Her  manners,  etc.,  are  not  to  my  taste.  Whether  she  is  '  a  good 
hand'  I  don't  yet  know.  I  should  be  pretty  well,  if  it  were  not 
for  headaches  and  indigestion.  My  chest  has  been  better  lately, 
Good-bye  for  the  present.— Yours  faithfully,  C.  B. 


SHIRLEY'  85 


Letter  392 

TO   W.   S.   WILLIAMS 

November  192^,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,— I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  that  Mr.  Taylor's 
illness  has  proved  so  much  more  serious  than  was  anticipated, 
but  I  do  hope  he  is  now  better.  That  he  should  be  quite  well 
cannot  be  as  yet  expected,  for  I  believe  rheumatic  fever  is  a  com- 
plaint slow  to  leave  the  system  it  has  invaded. 

Now  that  I  have  almost  formed  the  resolution  of  coming  to 
London,  the  thought  begins  to  present  itself  to  me  under  a 
pleasant  aspect  At  first  it  was  sad  ;  it  recalled  the  last  time  I 
went  and  with  whom,  and  to  whom  I  came  home,  and  in  what 
dear  companionship  1  again  and  again  narrated  all  that  had  been 
seen,  heard,  and  uttered  in  that  visit.  Emily  would  never  go  into 
any  sort  of  society  herself,  and  whenever  I  went  I  could  on  my 
return  communicate  to  her  a  pleasure  that  suited  her,  by  giving 
the  distinct  faithful  impression  of  each  scene  I  had  witnessed. 
When  pressed  to  go,  she  would  sometimes  say, f  What  is  the  use? 
Charlotte  will  bring  it  all  home  to  me.'  And  indeed  I  delighted 
to  please  her  thus.  My  occupation  is  gone  now. 

I  shall  come  to  be  lectured.  I  perceive  you  are  ready  with 
animadversion ;  you  are  not  at  all  well  satisfied  on  some  points, 
so  I  will  open  my  ears  to  hear,  nor  will  I  close  my  heart  against 
conviction  ;  but  I  forewarn  you,  I  have  my  own  doctrines,  not 
acquired,  but  innate,  some  that  I  fear  cannot  be  rooted  up  without 
tearing  away  all  the  soil  from  which  they  spring,  and  leaving  only 
unproductive  rock  for  new  seed. 

I  have  read  the  Caxtons^  I  have  looked  at  Fanny  Hervey,  I 
think  I  will  not  write  what  I  think  of  either — should  I  see  you 
I  will  speak  it. 

Take  a  hundred,  take  a  thousand  of  such  works  and  weigh 
them  in  the  balance  against  a  page  of  Thackeray.  I  hope  Mr. 
Thackeray  is  recovered. 

The  Sun,  the  Morning  Herald,  and  the  Critic  came  this  morn- 
ing. None  of  them  express  disappointment  from  Shirley,  or  on 
the  whole  compare  her  disadvantageously  with  Jane.  It  strikes 
me  that  those  worthies — the  Athen<zum>  Spectator,  Economist \  made 
haste  to  be  first  with  their  notices  that  they  might  give  the  tone ; 
if  so,  their  manoeuvre  has  not  yet  quite  succeeded. 


86  THE  BRONTES 

The  Critic,  our  old  friend,  is  a  friend  still.  Why  does  the  pulse 
of  pain  beat  in  every  pleasure?  Ellis  and  Acton  Bell  are  referred 
to,  and  where  are  they?  I  will  not  repine.  Faith  whispers  they 
are  not  in  those  graves  to  which  imagination  turns — the  feeling, 
thinking,  the  inspired  natures  are  beyond  earth,  in  a  region  more 
glorious.  I  believe  them  blessed.  I  think,  I  will  think,  my  loss 
has  been  their  gain.  Does  it  weary  you  that  I  refer  to  them  ?  If 
so,  forgive  me. — Yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTK. 

Before  closing  this  I  glanced  over  the  letter  enclosed  under 
your  cover.  Did  you  read  it?  It  is  from  a  lady,  not  quite  an 
old  maid,  but  nearly  one,  she  says ;  no  signature  or  date  ;  a  queer 
but  good-natured  production,  it  made  me  half  cry,  half  laugh.  I  am 
sure  Shirley  has  been  exciting  enough  for  her,  and  too  exciting. 
I  cannot  well  reply  to  the  letter  since  it  bears  no  address,  and 
I  am  glad — I  should  not  know  what  to  say.  She  is  not  sure 
whether  I  am  a  gentleman  or  not,  but  I  fancy  she  thinks  so. 
Have  you  any  idea  who  she  is?  If  I  were  a  gentleman  and  like 
my  heroes,  she  suspects  she  should  fall  in  love  with  me.  She  had 
better  not  It  would  be  a  pity  to  cause  such  a  waste  of  sensibility. 
You  and  Mr.  Smith  would  not  let  me  announce  myself  as  a  single 
gentleman  of  mature  age  in  my  preface,  but  if  you  had  permitted 
it,  a  great  many  elderly  spinsters  would  have  been  pleased. 


Letter  393 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

November  20/7/,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — You  said  that  if  I  wished  for  any  copies  of 
Shirley  to  be  sent  to  individuals  I  was  to  name  the  parties,  I 
have  thought  of  one  person  to  whom  I  should  much  like  a  copy 
to  be  offered — Harriet  Martineau.  For  her  character — as  revealed 
in  her  works — I  have  a  lively  admiration,  a  deep  esteem.  Will 
you  enclose  with  the  volume  the  accompanying  note  ? 

The  letter  you  forwarded  this  morning  was  from  Mrs.  Gaskell, 
authoress  of  Mary  Barton ;  she  said  I  was  not  to  answer  it,  but  I 
cannot  help  doing  so.  The  note  brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes. 
She  is  a  good,  she  is  a  great  woman.  Proud  am  I  that  I  can 
touch  a  chord  of  sympathy  in  souls  so  noble.  In  Mrs,  GaskelPs 
nature  it  mournfully  pleases  me  to  fancy  a  remote  affinity  to  my 


'  SHIRLEY'  87 

sister  Emily.  In  Miss  Martineau's  mind  I  have  always  felt  the 
same,  though  there  are  wide  differences.  Both  these  ladies  are 
above  me — certainly  far  my  superiors  in  attainments  and  experi- 
ence. I  think  I  could  look  up  to  them  if  I  knew  them. — I  am, 
dear  sir,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  394 

TO  W.  S.   WILLIAMS 

November  22nd,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — If  it  is  discouraging  to  an  author  to  see  his 
work  mouthed  over  by  the  entirely  ignorant  and  incompetent,  it 
is  equally  reviving  to  hear  what  you  have  written  discussed  and 
analysed  by  a  critic  who  is  master  of  his  subject — by  one  whose 
heart  feels,  whose  power  grasps  the  matter  he  undertakes  to 
handle.  Such  refreshment  Eugene  Forgade  has  given  me. 
Were  I  to  see  that  man,  my  impulse  would  be  to  say,  l  Monsieur, 
you  know  me,  I  shall  deem  it  an  honour  to  know  you.' 

I  do  not  find  that  Forgade  detects  any  coarseness  in  the 
work — it  is  for  the  smaller  critics  to  find  that  out  The  master 
in  the  art — the  subtle-thoughted,  keen-eyed,  quick-feeling  French- 
man, knows  the  true  nature  of  the  ingredients  which  went  to  the 
composition  of  the  creation  he  analyses — he  knows  the  true 
nature  of  things,  and  he  gives  them  their  right  name. 

Yours  of  yesterday  has  just  reached  me.  Let  me,  in  the 
first  place,  express  my  sincere  sympathy  with  your  anxiety  on 
Mrs.  Williams's  account.  I  know  how  sad  it  is  when  pain  and 
suffering  attack  those  we  love,  when  that  mournful  guest  sickness 
comes  and  takes  a  place  in  the  household  circle.  That  the 
shadow  may  soon  leave  your  home  is  my  earnest  hope. 

Thank  you  for  Sir  J.  Herschel's  note.  I  am  happy  to  hear 
Mr,  Taylor  is  convalescent.  It  may,  perhaps,  be  some  weeks 
yet  before  his  hand  is  well,  but  that  his  general  health  is  in  the 
way  of  re-establishment  is  a  matter  of  thankfulness. 

One  of  the  letters  you  sent  to-day  addressed  'Currer  Bell' 
has  almost  startled  me.  The  writer  first  describes  his  family, 
and  then  proceeds  to  give  a  particular  account  of  himself  in 
colours  the  most  candid,  if  not,  to  my  ideas,  the  most  attractive. 
He  runs  on  in  a  strain  of  wild  enthusiasm  about  Shirley,  and 
concludes  by  announcing  a  fixed,  deliberate  resolution  to  institute 


88  THE  BRONTES 

a  search  after  Currer  Bell,  and  sooner  or  later  to  find  him  out. 
There  is  power  in  the  letter— talent ;  it  is  at  times  eloquently 
expressed.  The  writer  somewhat  boastfully  intimates  that  he  is 
acknowledged  the  possessor  of  high  intellectual  attainments, 
but,  if  I  mistake  not,  he  betrays  a  temper  to  be  shunned,  habits 
to  be  mistrusted.  While  laying  claim  to  the  character  of  being 
affectionate,  warmhearted,  and  adhesive,  there  is  but  a  single 
member  of  his  own  family  of  whom  he  speaks  with  kindness. 
He  confesses  himself  indolent  and  wilful,  but  asserts  that  he  is 
studious  and,  to  some  influences,  docile.  This  letter  would  have 
struck  me  no  more  than  the  others  rather  like  it  have  done,  but 
for  its  rash  power,  and  the  disagreeable  resolves  it  announces  to 
seek  and  find  Currer  Bell.  It  almost  makes  me  like  a  wizard 
who  has  raised  a  spirit  he  may  find  it  difficult  to  lay.  But 
I  shall  not  think  about  it  This  sort  of  fervour  often  foams  itself 
away  in  words. 

Trusting  that  the  serenity  of  your  home  is  by  this  time  re- 
stored with  your  wife's  health, — I  am,  yours  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTK. 

Letter  395 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

November  %2nd)  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Amelia,  in  her  last  note,  mentioned  some- 
thing to  me  unintelligible  about  a  parcel  containing  *  Sydney  wine/ 
which  I  was  to  receive  from  Bradford.  I  waited  a  day  or  two 
before  I  wrote,  but  as  no  such  enigmatical  parcel  makes  its  appear- 
ance, I  shall  wait  no  longer. 

Shirley  works  her  way.  The  reviews  shower  in  fast.  I  send 
you  a  couple  more  by  this  post  You  may  take  care  of  them  and 
bring  with  the  others.  The  best  critique  which  has  yet  appeared 
is  in  the  Revue  des  deux  Mondes,  a  sort  of  European  cosmopolitan 
periodical,  whose  headquarters  are  at  Paris.  Comparatively  few 
reviewers,  even  in  their  praise,  evince  a  just  comprehension  of  the 
author's  meaning.  Eugene  Forgade,  the  reviewer  in  question, 
follows  Currer  Bell  through  every  winding,  discerns  every  point, 
discriminates  every  shade,  proves  himself  master  of  the  subject, 
and  lord  of  the  aim.  With  that  man  I  would  shake  hands,  if  I 
saw  him.  I  would  say,  *  You  know  me,  Monsieur  ;  I  shall  deem  it 
an  honour  to  know  you/  I  could  not  say  so  much  to  the  mass  of 


<  SHIRLEY'  89 

London  critics.  Perhaps  I  could  not  say  so  much  to  five  hundred 
men  and  women  in  all  the  millions  of  Great  Britain.  That 
matters  little.  My  own  conscience  I  satisfy  first;  and  having 
done  that,  if  I  further  content  and  delight  a  Forbade,  a  Fon- 
blanque,  and  a  Thackeray,  my  ambition  has  had  its  ration  ;  it  is 
fed ;  it  lies  down  for  the  present  satisfied  :  my  faculties  have 
wrought  a  day's  task,  and  earned  a  day's  wages.  I  am  no  teacher ; 
to  look  on  me  in  that  light  is  to  mistake  me.  To  teach  is  not  my 
vocation.  What  I  am,  it  is  useless  to  say.  Those  whom  it  con- 
cerns feel  and  find  it  out.  To  all  others  I  wish  only  to  be  an 
obscure,  steady-going,  private  character.  To  you,  dear  Nell,  I 
wish  to  be  a  sincere  friend.  Give  me  your  faithful  regard;  I 
willingly  dispense  with  admiration.  Offer  my  thanks  to  Amelia 
for  her  kind  note.  Say  that  such  is  my  encroaching  disposition 
I  must  have  another  from  her  before  she  gets  an  answer  from 
me.  My  regards  to  your  mother,  Mercy,  and  the  Claphams.  .  .  . 
All  you  say  agrees  with  my  anticipations.  They  are  scarcely 
suited, — Yours,  C.  B. 

Letter  396 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

November  26^,  '49. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  return  Mr.  V.'s  precious  note;  in  my  judg- 
ment you  are  quite  dispensed  from  answering  it,  unless  you  feel 
so  inclined.  There  is,  indeed,  nothing  to  answer  save  the  very 
slight  question  about  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clapham,  for  which  he  is  not 
entitled  to  expect  you  should  be  at  the  trouble  of  taking  pen 
and  ink.  It  is  like  you  to  pronounce  the  reviews  not  good 
enough,  and  belongs  to  that  part  of  your  character  which  will 
not  permit  you  to  bestow  unqualified  approbation  on  any  dress, 
decoration,  etc.,  belonging  to  you.  Know  that  the  reviews  are 
superb;  and  were  I  dissatisfied  with  them,  I  should  be  a  con- 
ceited ape.  Nothing  higher  is  ever  said,  from  perfectly  dis~ 
interested  motives,  of  any  living  author.  Wealthy  writers,  who  give 
dinners,  and  authors  of  rank,  who  have  toadies  in  their  train,  may 
command  a  fulsome  strain  of  flattery,  but  a  mite  of  praise, 
bestowed  on  an  unknown  and  obscure  author,  is  worth  raptures 
thus  bought  If  all  be  well,  I  go  to  London  this  week :  Wednes- 
day, I  think.  The  dressmaker  has  done  my  small  matters  pretty 
well,  but  I  wish  you  could  have  looked  over  them,  and  given  a 


90  THE  BRONTES 

dictum.  I  insisted  on  the  dresses  being  made  quite  plainly. 
The  box  will  come  sometime  doubtless,  but  is  not  come  yet. 
If  it  is  a  present  from  Joe  Taylor,  explain  to  him  when  you 
see  him,  why  he  has  not  been  thanked. — Yours  in  some  haste, 

C.  B. 


Letter  397 

TO  W.   S.   WILLIAMS 

Ncrvetn her  292$,  1 849 . 

DEAR  SIR, — I  inclose  two  notes  for  postage.  The  note  you 
sent  yesterday  was  from  Harriet  Martineau  ;  Its  contents  were 
more  than  gratifying.  I  ought  to  be  thankful,  and  I  trust  I  am 
for  such  testimonies  of  sympathy  from  the  first  order  of  minds. 
When  Mrs.  Gaskell  tells  me  she  shall  keep  my  works  as  a 
treasure  for  her  daughters,  and  when  Harriet  Martineau  testifies 
affectionate  approbation,  I  feel  the  sting  taken  from  the  strictures 
of  another  class  of  critics.  My  resolution  of  seclusion  withholds 
me  from  communicating  further  with  these  ladies  at  present,  but  I 
now  know  how  they  are  inclined  to  me — I  know  how  my  writings 
have  affected  their  wise  and  pure  minds.  The  knowledge  is 
present  support  and,  perhaps,  may  be  future  armour. 

I  trust  Mrs.  Williams's  health  and,  consequently,  your  spirits 
are  by  this  time  quite  restored.  If  all  be  well,  perhaps  I  shall  see 
you  next  week. — Yours  sincerely  C.  BRONTE. 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  91 


CHAPTER    XXII 

LITERARY  RECOGNITION 

IF  no  great  pecuniary  reward  was  destined  to  attach  to 
Charlotte  Bronte's  efforts  as  an  author,  she  received  in 
fullest  measure  the  recognition  of  her  great  contem- 
poraries in  literature,  and  particularly  of  Thackeray.  The 
devotion  of  Charlotte  Bronte  to  Thackeray,  or  rather  to 
Thackeray's  genius,  is  a  pleasant  episode  in  literary 
history.  In  1848  he  sent  Miss  Bronte,  as  we  have  seen, 
a  copy  of  Vanity  Fair.  In  1852  he  sent  her  a  copy  of 
Esmond,  with  the  more  cordial  inscription  which  came  of 
friendship. 


The  second  edition  of  Jane  Eyre  was  dedicated  to  him 
as  possessed  of  *  an  intellect  profounder  and  more  unique 
than  his  contemporaries  have  recognised/  and  as  'the 
first  social  regenerator  of  the  day.5  And  when  Currer 
Bell  was  dead,  it  was  Thackeray  who  wrote  by  far  the  most 
eloquent  tribute  to  her  memory.  When  a  copy  of  Law- 
rence's portrait  of  Thackeray1  was  sent  to  Haworth  by 
Mr.  George  Smith,  Charlotte  Bronte  stood  in  front  of  it 
and,  half  playfully,  half  seriously,  shook  her  fist,  apostro- 
phising its  original  as  '  Thou  Titan  !  ' 

With  all  this  hero-worship,  it  may  be  imagined  that  no 

1  Now  in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  A.  B.  NicUolls. 


92  THE  BRONTES 

favourable  criticism  gave  her  more  unqualified  pleasure 
than  that  which  came  from  her  'master,'  as  she  was  not 
indisposed  to  consider  one  who  was  only  seven  years  her 
senior,  and  whose  best  books  were  practically  contempo- 
raneous with  her  own.  People  had  indeed  suggested  that 
Jane  Eyre  might  have  been  written  by  Thackeray  under 
a  pseudonym ;  others  had  implied,  knowing  that  there 
was  '  something  about  a  woman  '  in  Thackeray's  life,  that 
it  was  written  by  a  mistress  of  the  great  novelist.  Indeed, 
the  Quarterly  had  half  hinted  as  much.  Currer  Bell, 
knowing  nothing  of  the  gossip  of  London,  had  dedicated 
her  book  in  single-minded  enthusiasm.  Her  distress  was 
keen  when  it  was  revealed  to  her  that  the  wife  of  Mr. 
Thackeray,  like  the  wife  of  Rochester  in  Jane  Eyre,  was 
of  unsound  mind.1 

It  cannot  be  said  that  Charlotte  Bronte  and  Thackeray 
gained  by  personal  contact.  'With  him  I  was  painfully 
stupid/  she  says.  It  was  the  case  of  Heine  and  Goethe 
over  again.  Heine  in  the  presence  of  the  king  of  German 
literature  could  talk  only  of  the  plums  in  his  garden. 
Charlotte  Bronte  in  the  presence  of  her  hero  Thackeray 
could  not  express  herself  with  the  vigour  and  intelligence 
which  belonged  to  her  correspondence  with  Mr.  Williams. 
Miss  Bronte,  again,  was  hypercritical  of  the  smaller  vanities 
of  men,  and,  as  has  been  pointed  out,  she  emphasised  in 
Villette  a  trivial  piece  of  not  unpleasant  egotism  on 
Thackeray's  part  after  a  lecture— his  asking  her  if  she  had 
liked  it  This  question,  which  nine  men  out  of  ten  would 
be  prone  to  ask  of  a  woman  friend,  was  <  over-eagerness ' 
and  'naweU*  in  her  eyes.  Thackeray,  on  his  side,  found 

1  Thackeray  writes  to  Mr.  Brookfield,  in  October  1848,  as  follows :-~« Old  Dilke  of 
ft&Athmsum  vows  that  Procter  and  his  wife,  between  them,  wrote  Jam  Eyre\  and 
when  I  protest  ignorance,  says,  '  Pooh  !  you  know  who  wrote  it— you  are  the  deepest 
rogue  in  England,  etc.'  I  wonder  whether  it  can  be  true?  It  is  just  possible.  And 
then  what  a  singular  circumstance  is  the  +  fire  of  the  two  dedications '  {Jam  Eyre  to 
Thackeray,  Vanity  Fair  to  Barry  Cornwall].—^  Collection  of  Letters  to  W.  M. 
Thackeray^  1847-1855.  Smith  and  Elder. 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  93 

conversation  difficult,  if  we  may  judge  by  a  reminiscence 
by  his  daughter  Lady  Ritchie  : — 

One  of  the  most  notable  persons  who  ever  came  into  our 
bow- windowed  drawing-room  in  Young  Street  is  a  guest  Lady 
never  to  be  forgotten  by  me — a  tiny,  delicate,  little  Ritchie's 
person,  whose  small  hand  nevertheless  grasped  a  mighty  Narratlve- 
lever  which  set  all  the  literary  world  of  that  day  vibrating.  I 
can  still  see  the  scene  quite  plainly — the  hot  summer  evening, 
the  open  windows,  the  carnage  driving  to  the  door  as  we  all 
sat  silent  and  expectant ;  my  father,  who  rarely  waited,  waiting 
with  us ;  our  governess  and  my  sister  and  I  all  in  a  row,  and 
prepared  for  the  great  event.  We  saw  the  carriage  stop,  and 
out  of  it  sprang  the  active,  well-knit  figure  of  Mr.  George 
Smith,  who  was  bringing  Miss  Bronte  to  see  our  father.  My 
father,  who  had  been  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  goes 
out  into  the  hall  to  meet  his  guests,  and  then,  after  a  moment's 
delay,  the  door  opens  wide,  and  the  two  gentlemen  come  in, 
leading  a  tiny,  delicate,  serious,  little  lady,  pale,  with  fair 
straight  hair,  and  steady  eyes.  She  may  be  a  little  over  thirty ; 
she  is  dressed  in  a  little  barege  dress,  with  a  pattern  of  faint 
green  moss.  She  enters  in  mittens,  in  silence,  in  seriousness  ; 
our  hearts  are  beating  with  wild  excitement.  This,  then,  is 
the  authoress,  the  unknown  power  whose  books  have  set  all 
London  talking,  reading,  speculating ;  some  people  even  say  our 
father  wrote  the  books — the  wonderful  books.  To  say  that  we 
little  girls  had  been  given  Jane  Eyre  to  read  scarcely  represents 
the  facts  of  the  case ;  to  say  that  we  had  taken  it  without  leave, 
read  bits  here  and  read  bits  there,  been  carried  away  by  an 
undreamed-of  and  hitherto  unimagined  whirlwind  into  things, 
times,  places,  all  utterly  absorbing,  and  at  the  same  time  absol- 
utely unintelligible  to  us,  would  more  accurately  describe  our 
state  of  mind  on  that  summer's  evening  as  we  look  at  Jane  Eyre 
— the  great  Jane  Eyre — the  tiny  little  lady.  The  moment  is  so 
breathless  that  dinner  comes  as  a  relief  to  the  solemnity  of  the 
occasion,  and  we  all  smile  as  my  father  stoops  to  offer  his  arm ; 
for,  though  genius  she  may  be,  Miss  Bronte  can  barely  reach  his 
elbow.  My  own  personal  impressions  are  that  she  is  somewhat 
grave  and  stern,  especially  to  forward  little  girls  who  wish  to 
chatter.  Mr.  George  Smith  has  since  told  me  how  she  afterwards 
remarked  upon  my  father's  wonderful  forbearance  and  gentleness 


94  THE  BRONTES 

with  our  uncalled-for  incursions  into  the  conversation.  She  sat 
gazing  at  him  with  kindling  eyes  of  interest,  lighting  up  with  a 
sort  of  illumination  every  now  and  then  as  she  answered  him.  I 
can  see  her  bending  forward  over  the  table,  not  eating,  but  listen- 
ing to  what  he  said  as  he  carved  the  dish  before  him. 

I  think  it  must  have  been  on  this  very  occasion  that  my  father 
invited  some  of  his  friends  in  the  evening  to  meet  Miss  Bronte — 
for  everybody  was  interested  and  anxious  to  see  her.    Mrs.  Crowe, 
the  reciter  of  ghost-stories,  was   there.     Mrs.   Brookfield,   Mrs. 
Carlyle,  Mr.  Carlyle  himself  was  present,  so  I  am  told,  railing  at 
the  appearance  of  cockneys  upon  Scotch  mountain  sides  ;  there 
were  also  too  many  Americans  for  his  taste,  '  but  the  Americans 
were  as  gods  compared  to  the  cockneys/  says  the  philosopher 
Besides  the  Carlyles,  there  were  Mrs.  Elliott  and  Miss   Perry, 
Mrs.    Procter  and  her  daughter,  most   of  my  father's   habitual 
friends  and  companions.     In  the  recent  life  of  Lord  Houghton 
I  was  amused  to  see  a  note  quoted  in  which  Lord  Houghton 
also  was  convened.    Would  that  he  had  been  present — perhaps 
the  party  would  have  gone  off  better.    It  was  a  gloomy  and  a  silent 
evening.      Every  one  waited  for  the  brilliant  conversation  which 
never  began  at  all.     Miss  Bronte  retired  to  the  sofa  in  the  study, 
and  murmured  a  low  word  now  and  then  to  our  kind  governess, 
Miss  Truelock.     The  room  looked  very  dark,  the  lamp  began  to 
smoke  a  little,  the  conversation  grew  dimmer  and  more  dim,  the 
ladies  sat  round  still  expectant,  my  father  was  too  much  perturbed 
by  the  gloom  and  the  silence  to  be  able  to  cope  with  it  at  all 
Mrs.  Brookfield,  who  was  in  the  doorway  by  the  study,  near  the 
corner  in  which  Miss  Bronte  was  sitting,  leant  forward  with  a 
little  commonplace,  since  brilliance  was  not  to  be  the  order  of 
the  evening.     '  Do  you  like  London,  Miss  Bronte  ? '   she   said ; 
another  silence,  a  pause,  then  Miss   Bronte  answers,  c  Yes   and 
iVo/  very  gravely.     Mrs,  Brookfield  has  herself  reported  the  con- 
versation.    My  sister  and  I  were  much  too  young  to  be  bored  in 
thos'le  days;  alarmed,  impressed  we  might  be,  but  not  yet  bored. 
A  par^y  was  a  party,  a  lioness  was  a  lioness;  and— shall  I  con- 
fess it  ?-— at  that  time  an  extra  dish  of  biscuits  was  enough  to 
mark  the  ^evening.    We  felt  all  the  importance  of  the  occasion : 
tea  spread  i?p  the  dining-room,  ladies  in  the  drawing-room*    We 
roamed  abotft  inconveniently,  no  doubt,  and  excitedly,  and  in 
one  of  my  incursions  crossing  the  hall,  after  Miss  Bronte  had 
left,  I  was  surprised  to  see  my  father  opening  the  front  door  with 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  95 

his  hat  on.  He  put  his  fingers  to  his  lips,  walked  out  into  the 
darkness,  and  shut  the  door  quietly  behind  him.  When  I  went 
back  to  the  drawing-room  again,  the  ladies  asked  me  where  he 
was.  I  vaguely  answered  that  I  thought  he  was  coming  back. 
I  was  puzzled  at  the  time,  nor  was  it  all  made  clear  to  me  till 
ong  years  afterwards,  when  one  day  Mrs.  Procter  asked  me  if 
knew  what  had  happened  once  when  my  father  had  invited  a 
party  to  meet  Jane  Eyre  at  his  house.  It  was  one  of  the  dullest 
evenings  she  had  ever  spent  in  her  life,  she  said.  And  then  with 
a  good  deal  of  humour  she  described  the  situation — the  ladies 
who  had  all  come  expecting  so  much  delightful  conversation, 
and  the  gloom  and  the  constraint,  and  how,  finally,  overwhelmed 
by  the  situation,  my  father  had  quietly  left  the  room,  left  the 
house,  and  gone  off  to  his  club.  The  ladies  waited,  wondered, 
and  finally  departed  also ;  and  as  we  were  going  up  to  bed  with 
our  candles  after  everybody  was  gone,  I  remember  two  pretty 

Miss  L s,  in  shiny  silk  dresses,  arriving,  full  of  expectation. 

.  .  .  We  still  said  we  thought  our  father  would  soon  be  back,  but 

the  Miss  L s  declined  to  wait  upon  the  chance,  laughed,  and 

drove  away  again  almost  immediately.1 

Charlotte  Bronte  stayed  with  but  two  friends  in  London, 
with  her  publisher,  Mr.  George  Smith,  and  his  mother, 
and  at  29  Phillimore  Gardens,  Kensington,  with  Dr. 
Wheelwright,  and  his  daughter  Lsetitia,  who  had  been 
Charlotte's  great  friend  in  Brussels.  Mr.  Smith  died 
quite  recently.  He  survived  until  1905  to  reign  over  the 
famous  house  which  introduced  Thackeray,  John  Ruskin, 
and  Charlotte  Bronte  to  the  world.  What  Charlotte 
Bronte  thought  of  him  may  be  gathered  from  her  frank 
acknowledgment  that  he  was  the  original  of  Dr.  John  m 
Villette,  as  his  mother  was  the  original  of  Mrs.  Bretton — 
perhaps  the  two  most  entirely  charming  characters  in 
Charlotte  Bronte's  novels.  Mrs.  Smith  and  her  son  lived, 
at  the  beginning  of  the  friendship,  at  Westbourne  Place, 
but  afterwards  removed  to  Gloucester  Terrace,  and 

1  Chapters  from  Some  Memories,  by  Annie  Thackeray  Ritchie.  Macmillan  and  Co. 
Lady  Ritchie  and  her  publishers  kindly  permit  me  to  incorporate  her  interesting  remi- 
niscence in  this  chapter. 


96  THE  BRONTES 

Charlotte  stayed  with  them  at  both  houses.     It  was  from 
the  former  that  this  first  letter  was  addressed. 

Letter  398 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

WESTBOURNE  PLACE,  BISHOP'S  ROAD, 
LONDON,  December  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  have  just  remembered  that  as  you  do  not 
know  my  address,  you  cannot  write  to  me  till  you  get  it ;  it  is  as 
above.  I  came  to  this  big  Babylon  last  Thursday,  and  have 
been  in  what  seems  to  me  a  sort  of  whirl  ever  since,  for  changes, 
scenes,  and  stimulus  which  would  be  a  trifle  to  others,  are  much 
to  me.  I  found  when  I  mentioned  to  Mr.  Smith  my  plan  of 
going  to  Dr.  Wheelwright's  it  would  not  do  at  all,  he  would  have 
been  seriously  hurt ;  he  made  his  mother  write  to  me,  and  thus  I 
was  persuaded  to  make  my  principal  stay  at  his  house.  I  have 
found  no  reason  to  regret  this  decision.  Mrs,  Smith  received  me 
at  first  like  one  who  had  received  the  strictest  orders  to  be 
scrupulously  attentive.  I  had  fires  in  rny  bedroom  evening  and 
morning,  wax  candles,  etc.,  etc.  Mrs.  Smith  and  her  daughters 
seemed  to  look  upon  me  with  a  mixture  of  respect  and  alarm. 
But  all  this  is  changed,  that  is  to  say,  the  attention  and  politeness 
continue  as  great  as  ever,  but  the  alarm  and  estrangement  arc 
quite  gone.  She  treats  me  as  if  she  liked  me,  and  I  begin  to  like 
her  much ;  kindness  is  a  potent  heartwinner.  I  had  not  judged 
too  favourably  of  her  son  on  a  first  impression  ;  he  pleases  me 
much.  I  like  him  better  even  as  a  son  and  brother  than  as  a  man 
of  business.  Mr.  Williams,  too,  Is  really  most  gentlemanly  and 
well-informed.  His  weak  points  he  certainly  has,  but  these  arc 
not  seen  in  society.  Mr.  Taylor— the  little  man— has  again 
shown  his  parts ;  in  fact,  I  suspect  he  is  of  the  Hclstone  order  of 
men — rigid,  despotic,  and  self-willed.  He  tries  to  be  very  kind 
and  even  to  express  sympathy  sometimes,  but  he  does  not  manage 
it.  He  has  a  determined,  dreadful  nose  In  the  middle  of  his  face 
which  when  poked  into  my  countenance  cuts  into  my  soul  like 
iron.  Still  he  is  horribly  intelligent,  quick,  searching,  sagacious, 
and  with  a  memory  of  relentless  tenacity.  To  turn  to  Williams 
after  him,  or  to  Smith  himself,  is  to  turn  from  granite  to  easy 
down  or  warm  fur.  I  have  seen  Thackeray. 

No  more  at  present  from  yours,  etc.,  C,  BRONTfi, 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  97 

Letter  399 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

LONDON,  December  loth,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  was  very  glad  to  get  the  two  notes  from 
Brookroyd,  yours  and  Amelia's.  I  am  only  going  to  pen  a  very 
hasty  reply  now,  as  there  are  several  people  in  the  room  and  I 
cannot  write  in  company.  You  seem  to  suppose  I  must  be  very 
happy,  dear  Nell,  and  I  see  you  have  twenty  romantic  notions  in 
your  head  about  me.  These  last  you  may  dismiss  at  once. 
As  to  being  happy,  I  am  under  scenes  and  circumstances  of 
excitement ;  but  I  suffer  acute  pain  sometimes,  mental  pain,  I 
mean.  At  the  moment  Mr.  Thackeray  presented  himself,  I  was 
thoroughly  faint  from  inanition,  having  eaten  nothing  since  a  very 
slight  breakfast,  and  it  was  then  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
Excitement  and  exhaustion  together  made  savage  work  of  me 
that  evening.  What  he  thought  of  me  I  cannot  tell.  This 
evening  I  am  going  to  meet  Miss  Martineau.  She  has  written  to 
me  most  kindly.  She  knows  me  only  as  Currer  Bell.  I  am  going 
alone  in  the  carriage  ;  how  I  shall  get  on  I  do  not  know.  If  Mrs. 
Smith  were  not  kind,  I  should  sometimes  be  miserable,  but  she 
treats  me  almost  affectionately,  her  attentions  never  flag. 

I  have  seen  many  things.  I  hope  some  day  to  tell  you  what. 
Yesterday  I  went  over  the  New  Houses  of  Parliament  with  Mr. 
Williams.  An  attack  of  rheumatic  fever  has  kept  poor  Mr, 
Taylor  out  of  the  way  since  I  wrote  last.  I  am  sorry  for  his 
sake.  It  grows  quite  dark,  I  must  stop.  I  shall  not  stay  in 
London  a  day  longer  than  I  first  intended.  On  those  points  I 
form  my  resolutions  and  will  not  be  shaken. 

The  thundering  Times  has  attacked  me  savagely. — Yours 
sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Sunday. — Love  to  Amelia,  and  thanks.  I  can  hardly  tell  what 
to  say  about  her  and  J,  T.  I  do  not  like  to  think  about  it ; 
I  shudder  sometimes. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  of  her  new  friends  was 
Harriet  Martineau.  Before  leaving  Haworth  she  had  had 
a  copy  of  her  book  sent  to  Harriet  Martineau  with  the 
following  note  enclosed  : — 

'  Currer  Bell  offers  a  copy  of  Shirley  to  Miss  Martineau' s 

VOL.  II.  G 


98  THE  BRONTES 

acceptance,  in  acknowledgment  of  the  pleasure  and  profit 
•sba  (sic)  he  has  derived  from  her  works.  When  C  B.  first 
read  Deerbrook  he  tasted  a  new  and  keen  pleasure,  and 
experienced  a  genuine  benefit.  In  his  mind  Deerbrook 
ranks  with  the  writings  that  have  really  done  him  good, 
added  to  his  stock  of  ideas  and  rectified  his  views  of 

life.'1 

Miss  Martineau  replied,  addressing  her  letter  to  *  Currer 
Bell,  Esq.,3  but  beginning  it  'Dear  Madam/  On 
December  8  she  received  a  letter  signed  'Currer  Bell/ 
saying  that  the  writer  was  in  town  and  desired  to  see  her. 
Miss  Martineau  has  left  an  amusing  account  of  the  inter- 
view, the  arrival  of  a  male  visitor  six  feet  high,  whom  some 
of  her  friends  believed  to  be  the  new  author,  and  finally 
the  appearance  of  'Miss  Bronte/  whom  the  footman 
announced  as  '  Miss  Brogden.'  '  I  thought  her  the 
smallest  creature  I  had  ever  seen,  except  at  a  fair/  was 
Miss  Martineau Js  first  impression. 


Letter  400 

TO  L^ETITIA  WHEELWRIGHT 

HAWORTH,  KEIGHLEY,  December  vjth^  1849. 

MY  DEAR  L^ETITIA, — I  have  just  time  to  save  the  post  by 
writing  a  brief  note.  I  reached  home  safely  on  Saturday  after- 
noon, and,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  found  papa  quite  well 

The  evening  after  I  left  you  passed  better  than  I  expected, 
Thanks  to  my  substantial  lunch  and  cheering  cup  of  coffee,  I 
was  able  to  wait  the  eight  o'clock  dinner  with  complete  resigna- 
tion, and  to  endure  its  length  quite  courageously,  nor  was  I  too 
much  exhausted  to  converse ;  and  of  this  I  was  glad,  for  other- 
wise I  know  my  kind  host  and  hostess  would  have  been  much 
disappointed.  There  were  only  seven  gentlemen  at  dinner  be- 
sides Mr.  Smith,  but  of  these,  five  were  critics — a  formidable 
band,  including  the  literary  Rhadamanthi  of  the  Times^  the 
^  the  Examiner -,  the  Spectator,  and  the  Atlas :  men  more 

1  Harriet  Martineau's  Autobiography,  vol.  ii. 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  99 

dreaded  in  the  world  of  letters  than  you  can  conceive.  I  did 
not  know  how  much  their  presence  and  conversation  had  ex- 
cited me  till  they  were  gone,  and  then  reaction  commenced. 
When  I  had  retired  for  the  night  I  wished  to  sleep  ;  the  effort 
to  do  so  was  vain — I  could  not  close  my  eyes.  Night  passed, 
morning  came,  and  I  rose  without  having  known  a  moment's 
slumber.  So  utterly  worn  out  was  I  when  I  got  to  Derby,  that  I 
was  obliged  to  stay  there  all  night. 

The  post  Is  going.  Give  my  affectionate  love  to  your  mamma, 
Emily,  Fanny,  and  Sarah  Anne.  Remember  me  respectfully  to 
your  papa,  and — Believe  me,  dear  Lsetitia,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  401 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

December  igtky  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  am  again  at  home ;  and  after  the  first  sensa- 
tions consequent  on  returning  to  a  place  more  dumb  and  vacant 
than  it  once  was,  I  am  beginning  to  feel  settled.  I  think  the 
contrast  with  London  does  not  make  Haworth  more  desolate ;  on 
the  contrary,  I  have  gleaned  ideas,  images,  pleasant  feelings,  such 
as  may  perhaps  cheer  many  a  long  winter  evening. 

You  ask  my  opinion  of  your  daughters.  I  wish  I  could  give 
you  one  worth  acceptance.  A  single  evening's  acquaintance  does 
not  suffice  with  me  to  form  an  opinion^  it  only  leaves  on  my  mind 
an  impression.  They  impressed  me,  then,  as  pleasing  in  manners 
and  appearance :  Ellen's  is  a  character  to  which  I  could  soon 
attach  myself,  and  Fanny  and  Louisa  have  each  their  separate 
advantages.  I  can,  however,  read  more  in  a  face  like  Mrs 
Williams's  than  in  the  smooth  young  features  of  her  daughters — 
time,  trial,  and  exertion  write  a  distinct  hand,  more  legible  than 
smile  or  dimple.  I  was  told  you  had  once  some  thoughts  of 
bringing  out  Fanny  as  a  professional  singer,  and  it  was  added 
Fanny  did  not  like  the  project.  I  thought  to  myself,  if  she  does 
not  like  it,  it  can  never  be  successfully  executed.  It  seems  to  me 
that  to  achieve  triumph  in  a  career  so  arduous,  the  artist's  own 
bent  to  the  course  must  be  inborn,  decided,  resistless.  There 
should  be  no  urging,  no  goading ;  native  genius  and  vigorous  will 
should  lend  their  wings  to  the  aspirant — nothing  less  can  lift  her 
to  real  fame,  and  who  would  rise  feebly  only  to  fall  ignobly  ?  An 


100  THE  BRONTES 

inferior  artist,  I  am  sure,  you  would  not  wish  your  daughter  to  be, 
and  if  she  is  to  stand  in  the  foremost  rank,  only  her  own  courage 
and  resolve  can  place  her  there ;  so,  at  least,  the  case  appears  to 
me.  Fanny  probably  looks  on  publicity  as  degrading  and  I 
believe  that  for  a  woman  it  is  degrading  if  it  is  not  glorious.  If 
I  could  not  be  a  Lind,  I  would  not  be  a  singer. 

Brief  as  my  visit  to  London  was,  it  must  for  me  be  memorable. 
I  sometimes  fancied  myself  in  a  dream — I  could  scarcely  credit 
the  reality  of  what  passed.  For  instance,  when  I  walked  into  the 
room  and  put  my  hand  into  Miss  Martineau's,  the  action  of 
saluting  her  and  the  fact  of  her  presence  seemed  visionary. 
Again,  when  Mr.  Thackeray  was  announced,  and  I  saw  him  enter, 
looked  up  at  his  tall  figure,  heard  his  voice,  the  whole  incident 
was  truly  dream-like,  I  was  only  certain  it  was  true  because  I 
became  miserably  destitute  of  self- possession.  Amour  proprc 
suffers  terribly  under  such  circumstances  :  woe  to  him  that  thinks 
of  himself  in  the  presence  of  intellectual  greatness !  Had  I  not 
been  obliged  to  speak,  I  could  have  managed  well,  but  it  behoved 
me  to  answer  when  addressed,  and  the  effort  was  torture-— I  spoke 
stupidly. 

As  to  the  band  of  critics,  I  cannot  say  they  overawed  me  much  ; 
I  enjoyed  the  spectacle  of  them  greatly.  The  two  contrasts, 
Forster  and  Chorley,  have  each  a  certain  edifying  carriage  and 
conversation  good  to  contemplate.  I  by  no  means  dislike  Mr. 
Forster — quite  the  contrary,  but  the  distance  from  his  loud 
swagger  to  Thackeray's  simple  port  is  as  the  distance  from 
Shakespeare's  writing  to  Macready's  acting. 

Mr.  Chorley  tantalised  me.  He  is  a  peculiar  specimen — one 
whom  you  could  set  yourself  to  examine,  uncertain  whether,  when 
you  had  probed  all  the  small  recesses  of  his  character,  the  result 
would  be  utter  contempt  and  aversion,  or  whether  for  the  sake 
of  latent  good  you  would  forgive  obvious  evil.  One  could  well 
pardon  his  unpleasant  features,  his  strange  voice,  even  his  very 
foppery  and  grimace,  if  one  found  these  disadvantages  connected 
with  living  talent  and  any  spark  of  genuine  goodness.  If  there  is 
nothing  more  than  acquirement,  smartness,  and  the  affectation  of 
philanthropy,  Chorley  is  a  fine  creature. 

Remember  me  kindly  to  your  wife  and  daughters,  and — Believe 
me,  yours  sincerely,  C  BRONTE. 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  101 

Letter  402 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HA  WORTH,  December  19  f A,  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Here  I  am  at  Haworth  once  more.  I  feel  as 
if  I  had  come  out  of  an  exciting  whirl.  Not  that  the  hurry  or 
stimulus  would  have  seemed  much  to  one  accustomed  to  society 
and  change,  but  to  me  they  were  very  marked.  My  strength  and 
spirits  too  often  proved  quite  insufficient  for  the  demand  on  their 
exertions.  I  used  to  bear  up  as  well  and  as  long  as  I  possibly 
could,  for,  whenever  I  flagged,  I  could  see  Mr.  Smith  became  dis- 
turbed ;  he  always  thought  that  something  had  been  said  or 
done  to  annoy  me,  which  never  once  happened,  for  I  met  with 
perfect  good-breeding  even  from  antagonists,  men  who  had  done 
their  best  or  worst  to  write  me  down.  I  explained  to  him,  over 
and  over  again,  that  my  occasional  silence  was  only  failure  of  the 
power  to  talk,  never  of  the  will,  but  still  he  always  seemed  to  fear 
there  was  another  cause  underneath. 

Mrs.  Smith  is  rather  stern,  but  she  has  sense  and  discrimina- 
tion ;  she  watched  me  very  narrowly  when  surrounded  by  gentle- 
men, she  never  took  her  eye  from  me,  I  liked  the  surveillance, 
both  when  it  kept  guard  over  me  amongst  many,  or  only  with  her 
cherished  one.  She  soon,  I  am  convinced,  saw  in  what  light  I 
received  all,  Thackeray  included.  Her  '  George '  is  a  very  fine 
specimen  of  a  young  English  man-of- business  ;  so  I  regard  him, 
and  I  am  proud  to  be  one  of  his  props. 

Thackeray  is  a  Titan  of  mind.  His  presence  and  powers 
impress  me  deeply  in  an  intellectual  sense ;  I  do  not  see  him  or 
know  him  as  a  man.  All  the  others  are  subordinate  to  these. 
I  have  esteem  for  some,  and,  I  trust,  courtesy  for  all.  I  do  not, 
of  course,  know  what  they  thought  of  me,  but  I  believe  most  of 
them  expected  me  to  come  out  in  a  more  marked,  eccentric, 
striking  light.  I  believe  they  desired  more  to  admire  and  more 
to  blame.  I  felt  sufficiently  at  my  ease  with  all  except 
Thackeray ;  and  with  him  I  was  painfully  stupid, 

Now,  dear  Nell,  when  can  you  come  to  Haworth?  Settle  and 
let  me  know  as  soon  as  you  can.  Give  my  best  love  to  all.  I 
enclose  a  word  for  Amelia.  Have  things  come  to  any  crisis  in 
that  quarter  ?  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  the  lion  mated  with  the 


102  THE  BRONTES 

lamb,  the  leopard  with  the  kid.  It  does  not  content  me.  The  first 
year  or  two  may  be  well  enough.  I  do  not  like  to  look  forward  any 
farther.  Let  nothing  prevent  you  from  coming, — Yours,  C.  B. 

Letter  403 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

December  I'znd^  1849. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— I  should  have  answered  yours  yesterday,  had 
I  not  received  by  the  same  post  a  missive  from  Joseph  Taylor 
announcing  that  he  was  coming  to  dinner  that  blessed  day,  and 
shortly  after  he  made  his  appearance.  This  errand  was  to  per- 
suade me  to  go  to  Birmingham  to  spend  Christmas  at  Hay  Hall 
with  the  Dixons.  Of  course  I  could  not  go.  He  stayed  till 
about  6  o'clock — he  talked  a  good  deal.  ...  I  don't  think  it  will 
make  the  least  difference  with  him.  He  had  written  to  me  a  few 
days  before,  explaining  the  degree  and  sort  of  interest  he  took  in 
Amelia;  I  will  show  you  the  letter  when  you  come. 

Let  nothing  prevent  you  from  coming  on  Thursday.  There 
is  a  train  leaves  Bradford  at  a  quarter  past  twelve  and  arrives  at 
Keighley  about  thirty-four  minutes  past,  perhaps  you  had  better 
come  by  that  I  will  send  a  gig  to  meet  you  if  possible  ;  if  I  can- 
not get  one  you  must  hire  a  conveyance  at  the  Devonshire  Arms 
— don't  walk.  Joe  Taylor  says  he  will  come  here  again  while  you 
are  with  tne,  after  he  has  been  to  Tranby  and  knows  his  doom* 

C,B. 
Letter  404 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

December  ^4.9, 

DEAR  ELLEN, — As  papa  appears  to  be  pretty  well  just  now, 
and  as  Martha  is  likewise  quite  recovered,  I  think  I  really 
should  like  to  come  to  you  for  a  few  days.  Could  you  without 
inconvenience  meet  me  at  Leeds  on  Tuesday  morning,  about  12 
o'clock?  I  ask  this  because  I  find  I  really  must  go  to  Mr. 
Atkinson  the  dentist,  and  ask  him  if  he  can  do  anything  for  my 
tic,  and  I  thought  I  might  as  well  get  the  pleasant  errand  over  on 
my  way  to  Brookroyd.  I  have  some  other  trifling  matters  to  look 
after  likewise,  but  I  should  have  wished  to  consult  you  about 
them  beforehand,  and  if  you  think  I  had  better  go  from  Brookroyd 
to  Leeds,  or  if  it  would  inconvenience  you  to  meet  me  there,  say 
so,  and  I  will  come  by  Bradford,  If  you  write  by  return  of  post. 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  103 

I  shall  get  your  note  on  Monday  morning  and  shall  know  how  to 
arrange. 

Give  my  kind  regards  to  all  and  believe  me  yours  sincerely, 

C.  B. 

Letter  405 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

January  3^,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  the  Morn- 
ing Chronicle  with  a  good  review,  and  of  the  Church  of  England 
Quarterly  and  the  Westminster  with  bad  ones.  I  have  also  to 
thank  you  for  your  letter,  which  would  have  been  answered 
sooner  had  I  been  alone;  but  just  now  I  am  enjoying  the  treat 
of  my  friend  Ellen's  society,  and  she  makes*  me  indolent  and 
negligent — I  am  too  busy  talking  to  her  all  day  to  do  anything 
else.  You  allude  to  the  subject  of  female  friendships,  and  express 
wonder  at  the  infrequency  of  sincere  attachments  amongst 
women.  As  to  married  women,  I  can  well  understand  that  they 
should  be  absorbed  in  their  husbands  and  children — but  single 
women  often  like  each  other  much,  and  derive  great  solace  from 
their  mutual  regard.  Friendship,  however,  is  a  plant  which  can- 
not be  forced.  True  friendship  is  no  gourd,  springing  in  a  night 
and  withering  in  a  day.  When  I  first  saw  Ellen  I  did  not  care 
for  her ;  we  were  schoolfellows.  In  course  of  time  we  learnt 
each  other's  faults  and  good  points.  We  were  contrasts — still,  we 
suited.  Affection  was  first  a  germ,  then  a  sapling,  then  a  strong 
tree — now,  no  new  friend,  however  lofty  or  profound  in  intellect — 
not  even  Miss  Martineau  herself — could  be  to  me  what  Ellen  is  ; 
yet  she  is  no  more  than  a  conscientious,  observant,  calm,  well-bred 
Yorkshire  girl.  She  is  without  romance.  If  she  attempts  to 
read  poetry,  or  poetic  prose,  aloud,  I  am  irritated  and  deprive  her 
of  the  book — if  she  talks  of  it,  I  stop  my  ears ;  but  she  is  good  ; 
she  is  true ;  she  is  faithful,  and  I  love  her. 

Since  I  came  home,  Miss  Martineau  has  written  me  a  long  and 
truly  kindly  letter.  She  invites  me  to  visit  her  at  Ambleside.  I 
like  the  idea.  Whether  I  can  realise  it  or  not,  it  is  pleasant  to 
have  in  prospect. 

You  ask  me  to  write  to  Mrs.  Williams.  I  would  rather  she 
wrote  to  me  first ;  and  let  her  send  any  kind  of  letter  she  likes, 
without  studying  mood  or  manner. — Yours  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTE. 


104  THE  BRONTES 

Miss  Wheelwright  and  her  sisters  well  remember  certain 
episodes  in  connection  with  these  London  visits.  They 
recall  Charlotte's  anxiety  and  trepidation  at  the  prospect 
of  meeting  Thackeray.  They  recollect  her  simple,  dainty 
dress,  her  shy  demeanour,  her  absolutely  unspoiled  char- 
acter. They  tell  me  it  was  in  the  Illustrated  London 
News,  about  the  time  of  the  publication  of  Shirley,  that 
they  first  learnt  that  Currer  Bell  and  Charlotte  Bronte 
were  one.  They  would,  however,  have  known  that  Shirley 
was  by  a  Brussels  pupil,  they  declared,  from  the  absolute 
resemblance  of  Hortense  Moore  to  one  of  their  gover- 
nesses—  Mile.  Haussd 

Meanwhile  the  excitement  which  Shirley  was  exciting 
in  Currer  Bell's  home  circle  was  not  confined  to  the 
curates.  Here  is  a  letter  which  Canon  Heald  (Cyril  Hall) 
wrote  at  this  time  : — 

Letter  406 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

BlRSTALL,  NEAR  LEEDS, 
January  8///,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Fame  says  you  are  on  a  visit  with  the  renowned 
Currer  Bell,  the  *  great  unknown '  of  the  present  day,  The  cele- 
brated Shirley  has  just  found  its  way  hither.  And  as  one  always 
reads  a  book  with  more  interest  when  one  has  a  correct  insight 
into  the  writer's  designs,  I  write  to  ask  a  favour,  which  I  ought 
not  to  be  regarded  as  presumptuous  in  saying  that  I  think  I  have 
a  species  of  claim  to  ask,  on  the  ground  of  a  sort  of  *  poetical 
justice/  The  interpretation  of  this  enigma  is,  that  the  story  goes 
that  either  I  or  my  father,  I  do  not  exactly  know  which,  are  part 
of  '  Currer  Bell's '  stock-in-trade,  under  the  title  of  Mr.  Hall,  in 
that  Mr.  Hall  is  represented  as  black,  bilious,  and  of  dismal  aspect, 
stooping  a  trifle,  and  indulging  a  little  now  and  then  in  the  indi- 
genous dialect  This  seems  to  sit  very  well  on  your  humble 
servant— other  traits  do  better  for  my  good  father  than  myself. 
However,  though  I  had  no  idea  that  I  should  be  made  a  means 
to  amuse  the  public,  Currer  Bell  is  perfectly  welcome  to  what  she 
can  make  of  so  unpromising  a  subject.  But  I  think  /  have  a  fair 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  105 

claim  in  return  to  be  let  into  the  secret  of  the  company  I  have  got  into, 
Some  of  them  are  good  enough  to  tell,  and  need  no  CEdipus  to 
solve  the  riddle.  I  can  tabulate,  for  instance,  the  Yorke  family 
for  the  Taylors,  Mr.  Moore— Mr.  Cartwright,  and  Mr.  Helstone  is 
clearly  meant  for  Mr.  Roberson,  though  the  authoress  has  evi- 
dently got  her  idea  of  his  character  through  an  unfavourable 
medium,  and  does  not  understand  the  full  value  of  one  of  the 
most  admirable  characters  I  ever  knew  or  expect  to  know.  Mary 
thinks  she  descries  Cecilia  Crowther  and  Miss  Johnstone  (after- 
wards Mrs.  Westerman)  in  two  old  maids. 

Now  pray  get  us  a  full  light  on  all  other  names  and  localities 
that  are  adumbrated  in  this  said  Shirley,  When  some  of  the 
prominent  characters  will  be  recognised  by  every  one  who  knows 
our  quarters,  there  can  be  no" harm  in  letting  one  know  who  may 
be  intended  by  the  rest  And,  if  necessary,  I  will  bear  Currer 
Bell  harmless,  and  not  let  the  world  know  that  I  have  my  intelli- 
gence from  headquarters.  As  I  said  before,  I  repeat  now,  that 
as  I  or  mine  are  part  of  the  stock-in-trade,  I  think  I  have  an 
equitable  claim  to  this  intelligence,  by  way  of  my  dividend. 
Mary  and  Harriet  wish  also  to  get  at  this  information  ;  and  the 
latter  at  all  events  seems  to  have  her  own  peculiar  claim,  as  fame 
says  she  is  <  in  the  book '  too.  One  had  need  '  walk  .  .  .  warily 
in  these  dangerous  days/  when,  as  Burns  (is  it  not  he?)  says — 

'  A  chield  7s  among  you  taking  notes. 
And  faith  he  '11  prent  it.3— 

Yours  sincerely,  W.  M.  HEALD. 

Mary  and   Harriet  unite  with  me  in  the  best  wishes  of  the 

season  to  you  and  C B .     Pray  give  my  best  respects  to 

Mr,  Bronte  also,  who  may  have  some  slight  remembrance  of  me 
as  a  child.  I  just  remember  him  when  at  Hartshead.1 


Letter  407 

TO  W.   S.  WILLIAMS 

January  loth^  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Mrs.  Ellis  has  made  'her  morning  call/  I 
rather  relished  her  chat  about  Shirley  and  Jane  Eyre.  She 
praises  reluctantly  and  blames  too  often  affectedly.  But  when- 

1  Printed  by  the  kind  permission  of  the  Rev.  C.  W.  Heald,  of  Chale,  I.W. 


106  THE  BRONTES 

ever  a  reviewer  betrays  that  he  has  been  thoroughly  Influenced 
and  stirred  by  the  work  he  criticises,  it  is  easy  to  forgive  the  res* 
— hate  and  personality  excepted. 

I  have  received  and  perused  the  Edinburgh  Review — it  is  very 
brutal  and  savage.  I  am  not  angry  with  Lewes,  but  I  wish  in 
future  he  would  let  me  alone,  and  not  write  again  what  makes  me 
feel  so  cold  and  sick  as  I  am  feeling  just  now. 

Thackeray's  Christmas  Book  at  once  grieved  and  pleased  me, 
as  most  of  his  writings  do.  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
whenever  he  writes,  Mephistopheles  stands  on  his  right  hand  and 
Raphael  on  his  left;  the  great  doubter  and  sneerer  usually  guides 
the  pen,  the  Angel,  noble  and  gentle,  interlines  letters  of  light 
here  and  there.  Alas!  Thackeray,  I  wish  your  strong  wings 
would  lift  you  oftener  above  the  smoke  of  cities  into  the  pure 
region  nearer  heaven  ! 

Good-bye  for  the  present — Yours  sincerely,          C,  BRONTiL 


Letter  408 

TO  G.   H.   LEWES 

I  can  be  on  my  guard  against  my  enemies,  but  God  deliver  me 
from  my  friends !  CURKER  BELL. 

Letter  409 

TO  G.   H.  LEWES 

January  igth,  1850, 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  will  tell  you  why  I  was  so  hurt  by  that 
review  in  the  Edinburgh — not  because  its  criticism  was  keen  or 
its  blame  sometimes  severe;  not  because  its  praise  was  stinted 
(for,  indeed,  I  think  you  give  me  quite  as  much  praise  as  I 
deserve),  but  because  after  I  had  said  earnestly  that  I  wished 
critics  would  judge  me  as  an  author,  not  as  a  woman,  you  so 
roughly— I  even  thought  so  cruelly—handled  the  question  of  sex. 
I  dare  say  you  meant  no  harm,  and  perhaps  you  will  not  now  be 
able  to  understand  why  I  was  so  grieved  at  what  you  will  pro* 
bably  deem  such  a  trifle ;  but  grieved  I  was,  and  indignant  too, 
There  was  a  passage  or  two  which  you  did  quite  wrong  to  write* 
However,  I  will  not  bear  malice  against  you  for  it ;  I  know 
what  your  nature  is :  it  is  not  a  bad  or  unkind  one,  though  you 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  107 

would  often  jar  terribly  on  some  feelings  with  whose  recoil  and 
quiver  you  could  not  possibly  sympathise.  I  imagine  you  are 
both  enthusiastic  and  implacable,  as  you  are  at  once  sagacious 
and  careless;  you  know  much  and  discover  much,  but  you  are 
in  such  a  hurry  to  tell  it  all  you  never  give  yourself  time  to 
think  how  your  reckless  eloquence  may  affect  others ;  and,  what 
is  more,  if  you  knew  how  it  did  affect  them,  you  would  not  much 
care. 

However,  I  shake  hands  with  you  :  you  have  excellent  points ; 
you  can  be  generous.  I  still  feel  angry,  and  think  I  do  well  to 
be  angry ;  but  it  is  the  anger  one  experiences  for  rough  play 
rather  than  for  foul  play. — I  am  yours,  with  a  certain  respect,  and 
more  chagrin,  CURRER  BELL. 

Letter  410 

TO    ELLEN    NUSSEY 

January  igtk,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — You  had  a  weary  long  time  to  wait  at  Bradford 
and  a  most  crushing  ride  home,  and  then  the  necessity  of  enter- 
taining company  when  you  ought  to  have  rested  was  rather  too 
bad.  I  am  glad  to  hear  Amelia  does  not  fret ;  I  trust  her  spirit 
will  keep  her  up  through  the  tedious  period  of  suspense  she  will 
probably  have  to  endure.  How  it  will  end,  God  knows.  I  think 
from  the  first  Joe  Taylor  has  deliberately  intended  this  shall  be 
the  finale.  I  feel  sure  the  visit  to  Tranby  rather  confirmed  than 
shook  this  resolution.  I  feel  angry  with  myself  every  day  that  I 
have  not  yet  written  to  Amelia,  but  in  truth  I  hardly  know  what 
to  say ;  however,  I  shall  pluck  up  courage  as  soon  as  possible. 

All  you  tell  me  about  the  notoriety  of  Shirley  In  Dewsbury, 
etc.,  is  almost  as  good  as  an  emetic  to  me.  I  should  really  'go 
off  at  side '  if  I  thought  too  much  about  it.  Mr.  Nicholls  having 
finished  Jane  Eyre  is  now  crying  out  for  the  '  other  book ' ;  he  is 
to  have  it  next  week,  much  good  may  it  do  him.  I  answered  Sir 
J.  K.  Shuttleworth's  note  yesterday,  thanking  and  declining  as 
neatly  as  I  knew  how. 

Since  you  left  I  have  had  no  letter  from  London ;  I  think  if 
Lewes  had  any  thought  of  answering  my  missive  he  would  have 
done  it  at  once,  for  he  generally  bolts  his  replies  by  return  of  post. 

Dear  Nell,  it  is  lonesome  without  you.  Write  again  soon. 
Good-bye. 

Love  to  all  at  Brookroyd. 


108  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  411 

TO  ELLEN    NUSSEY 

January  25^,  1850 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Your  indisposition  was,  I  have  no  doubt,  in  a 
great  measure  owing  to  the  change  in  the  weather  from  frost  to  thaw. 
I  had  one  sick-headachy  day  ;  but,  for  me,  only  a  slight  attack.  You 
must  be  careful  of  cold.  I  have  just  written  to  Amelia  a  brief 
note  thanking  her  for  the  cuffs,  etc.  It  was  a  burning  shame  I  did 
not  write  sooner.  Herewith  are  enclosed  three  letters  for  your 
perusalj  the  first  from  Mary  Taylor,  which  you  are  to  read  immedi- 
ately—so the  order  runs— and  not  to  send  it  to  Mrs.  Burnley.  There 
is  also  one  from  Lewes  and  one  from  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth,  both 
which  peruse  and  return,  I  have  also,  since  you  went,  had  a 
remarkable  epistle  from  Thackeray,  long,  interesting,  character- 
istic, but  it  unfortunately  concludes  with  the  strict  injunction, 
show  this  letter  to  no  one,  adding  that  if  he  thought  his  letters  were 
seen  by  others,  he  should  either  cease  to  write  or  write  only  what 
was  conventional ;  but  for  this  circumstance  I  should  have  sent  it 
with  the  others.  I  answered  it  at  length,  Whether  my  reply  will 
give  satisfaction  or  displeasure  remains  yet  to  be  ascertained. 
Thackeray's  feelings  are  not  such  as  can  be  gauged  by  ordinary 
calculation :  variable  weather  is  what  I  should  ever  expect  from 
that  quarter,  yet  in  correspondence  as  in  verbal  Intercourse,  this 
would  torment  me. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  B* 

Letter  412 

TO  MISS   WOOLER. 

HAWORTH,  January  38M,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  WOOLER,— Your  last  kind  note  would  not  have 
remained  so  long  unanswered  if  I  had  been  In  better  health. 
While  Ellen  was  with  me,  I  seemed  to  revive  wonderfully,  but 
began  to  grow  worse  again  the  day  she  left,  and  this  falling  off 
proved  symptomatic  of  a  relapse.  My  doctor  called  the  next 
day ;  he  said  the  headache  from  which  I  was  suffering  arose  from 
inertness  in  the  liver.  .  .  . 

Thank  God  I  now  feel  better,  and  very  grateful  am  I  for  the 
improvement,  grateful  no  less  for  my  dear  father's  sake,  than  for 
my  own. 

Most  fully  can  I  sympathise  with   you   in  the  anxiety  you 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  109 

express  about  Mr.  Taylor.  The  thought  of  his  leaving  England 
and  going  out  alone  to  a  strange  country,  with  all  his  natural 
sensitiveness  and  retiring  diffidence,  is  indeed  painful ;  still,  my 
dear  Miss  Wooler,  should  he  actually  go  to  America,  I  can  but 
then  suggest  to  you  the  same  source  of  comfort  and  support  you 
have  suggested  to  me,  and  of  which  indeed  I  know  you  never  lose 
sight,  namely,  reliance  on  Providence.  c  God  tempers  the  wind  to 
the  shorn  lamb/  and  He  will  doubtless  care  for  a  good,  though 
afflicted  man,  amidst  whatever  difficulties  he  may  be  thrown. 
When  you  write  again,  I  should  be  glad  to  know  whether  your 

anxiety  on  this  subject  is  released,  and  also  hear  how  Mrs.  M 

and  her  family  are  getting  on.  I  was  truly  glad  to  learn  through 
Ellen,  that  Ilkley  still  continued  to  agree  with  your  health. 
Earnestly  trusting  that  the  New  Year  may  prove  to  you  a  happy 
and  tranquil  time, — I  am,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  sincerely  and 
affectionately  yours,  C.  BRONTE. 

Give  my  kind  love  to  Miss  Sarah.  Papa  says  I  am  always 
to  give  his  best  respects  when  I  write  to  you. 

Letter  413 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

January  282$,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  cannot  but  be  concerned  to  hear  of  your 
mother's  illness  ;  write  again  soon,  if  it  be  but  a  line,  to  tell  me 
how  she  gets  on.  This  shadow  will,  I  trust  and  believe,  be  but  a 
passing  one,  but  it  is  a  foretaste  and  warning  of  what  must  come 
one  day.  Let  it  prepare  your  mind,  dear  Ellen,  for  that  great 
trial  which,  if  you  live,  it  must  in  the  course  of  a  few  years  be 
your  lot  to  undeigo.  That  cutting  asunder  of  the  ties  of  nature 
is  the  pain  we  most  dread  and  which  we  are  most  certain  to 
experience.  Perhaps  you  will  have  seen  Joe  Taylor  ere  this,  I 
had  a  brief  note  from  him,  dated  Hull :  he  had  seen  Mr.  Ringrose, 
whom  he  found  'inimical  though  not  avowedly  so,  desirous  to 
refuse  but  wanting  a  pretext.'  'Such  a  reception/  he  says, 
'would,  six  weeks  ago,  have  made  him  give  it  up/  He  does  not 
mention  whether  he  saw  Amelia.  He  will  go  on.  Lewes'  letter 
made  rne  laugh,  I  cannot  respect  him  more  for  it  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttle- 
worth's  letter  did  not  make  me  laugh.  He  has  written  again  since. 
I  have  received  to-day  a  note  from  Miss  Alexander,  Lupset 
Cottage,  Wakefield,  daughter,  she  says,  of  Dr.  Alexander.  Do 


HO  THE  BRONTES 

you  know  anything  of  her?  Mary  Taylor  seems  in  good  health 
and  spirits  and  in  the  way  of  doing  well.  I  shall  feel  anxious  to 
hear  again  soon.  C.  B. 

P.S.— Mr.  Nicholls  has  finished  reading  Shirley,  he  is  delighted 
with  it.  John  Brown's  wife  seriously  thought  he  had  gone  wrong 
in  the  head  as  she  heard  him  giving  vent  to  roars  of  laughter  as 
he  sat  alone,  clapping  his  hands  and  stamping  on  the  floor.  He 
would  read  all  the  scenes  about  the  curates  aloud  to  papa,  he 
triumphed  in  his  own  character.  What  Mr.  Grant  will  say  is 
another  thing.  No  matter. 

Letter  414 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

Thursday,  January  3o///,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  wonder  how  your  poor  mother  is  this  morn- 
ing, and  how  you  are  too ;  I  wonder  also  whether  you  have  yet 
heard  from  your  brothers,  and  whether  the  news  of  their  mother's 
serious  illness  has  penetrated  the  crust  of  worldliness  with  which 
their  hearts  are  too  completely  overgrown,  and  wakened  some- 
thing like  the  sensation  of  natural  affection.  You  must  let  me 
have  a  line  as  soon  as  you  can  to  tell  me  how  matters  progress. 

As  to  Joe  Taylor — I  really  dare  not  write  what  I  think  of  him, 
or  what  I  feel  respecting  him.  I  grow  more  and  more  con- 
vinced that  his  state  of  mind  approximates  to  that  which  was  so 
appallingly  exhibited  in  poor  Branwell  during  the  last  few  years 
of  his  life,  and  if  such  be  the  case,  she  who  marries  him  will  join 
hands  with  misery — and,  as  you  say,  hopeless  misery.  The  note  I 
had  from  him  dated  Hull  just  breathed  the  spirit  which  you 
describe  as  pervading  his  conversation  with  you  ;  it  was  short,  but 
imbued  with  selfishness  and  with  a  sort  of  unmanly  absence  of 
true  value  for  the  woman  whose  hand  he  seeks.  Should  he  con- 
tinue in  this  frame  of  mind,  he  cannot  be  worthy  of  Amelia.  I 
could  infuse  no  word  of  sympathy  into  my  answer — I  involun- 
tarily made  it  sharp  and  stern.  With  what  I  said  he  cannot  be 
pleased,  nor  will  it  encourage  him  to  come  here  ;  and  indeed  the 
thought  of  his  coming  would  be  a  nightmare  to  me.  What  power 
Joe  Taylor  still  possesses  to  interest  and  influence  is  an  unreal 
power ;  I  greatly  fear  it  all  depends  on  skilful  acting, 

I  had  just  written  so  far  when  I  received  a  letter  from  him 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  111 

(J.  T.).  I  enclose  it.  Is  this  acting,  or  what  is  it  ?  Does  he  give 
me  the  rug  to  pay  off  some  imaginary  debt?  I  wish  him  well, 
but  both  gifts  and  loans  and  letters  and  visits  from  that  quarter 
have  all  now  something  about  them  from  which  one  shrinks.  All 
seems  done  on  system — nothing  from  feeling.  Write  by  return 
of  post  if  you  can,  dear  Nell.  Good-bye.  C.  B. 

Letter  415 

TO   W.   S.   WILLIAMS 

February  ^nd^  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  despatched  to-day  a  parcel  containing 
The  Caxtons,  Macaulay;s  Essays,  Humboldt;s  Letters,  and  such 
other  of  the  books  as  I  have  read,  packed  with  a  picturesque 
irregularity  well  calculated  to  excite  the  envy  and  admiration  of 
your  skilful  functionary  in  Cornhill.  By  the  bye,  he  ought  to  be 
careful  of  the  few  pins  stuck  in  here  and  there,  as  he  might  find 
them  useful  at  a  future  day,  in  case  of  having  more  bonnets  to 
pack  for  the  East  Indies.  Whenever  you  send  me  a  new  supply 
of  books,  may  I  request  that  you  will  have  the  goodness  to 
include  one  or  two  of  Miss  Austen's.  I  am  often  asked  whether 
I  have  read  them,  and  I  excite  amazement  by  replying  in  the 
negative.  I  have  read  none  except  Pride  and  Prejudice,  Miss 
Martineau  mentioned  Persuasion  as  the  best. 

Thank  you  for  your  account  of  the  First  Performance.  It  was 
cheering  and  pleasant  to  read  it,  for  in  your  animated  description 
I  seemed  to  realise  the  scene  ;  your  criticism  also  enables  me  to 
form  some  idea  of  the  play.  Lewes  is  a  strange  being.  I  always 
regret  that  I  did  not  see  him  when  in  London.  He  seems  to  me 
clever,  sharp,  and  coarse ;  I  used  to  think  him  sagacious,  but  I 
believe  now  he  is  no  more  than  shrewd,  for  I  have  observed  once 
or  twice  that  he  brings  forward,  as  grand  discoveries  of  his  own, 
information  he  has  casually  received  from  others — true  sagacity 
disdains  little  tricks  of  this  sort.  But  though  Lewes  has  many 
smart  and  some  deserving  points  about  him,  he  has  nothing  truly 
great ;  and  nothing  truly  great,  I  should  think,  will  he  ever  pro- 
duce. Yet  he  merits  just  such  successes  as  the  one  you  describe 
— triumphs  public,  brief,  and  noisy.  Notoriety  suits  Lewes.  Fame 
— were  it  possible  that  he  could  achieve  her — would  be  a  thing 
uncongenial  to  him  :  he  could  not  wait  for  the  solemn  blast  of  her 
trumpet,  sounding  long,  and  slowly  waxing  louder. 


112  THE  BRONTES 

I  always  like  your  way  of  mentioning  Mr.  Smith,  because  my 
own  opinion  of  him  concurs  with  yours ;  and  it  is  as  pleasant  to 
have  a  favourable  impression  of  character  confirmed,  as  it  is  pain- 
ful to  see  it  dispelled.  I  am  sure  he  possesses  a  fine  nature,  and 
I  trust  the  selfishness  of  the  world  and  the  hard  habits  of  business, 
though  they  may  and  must  modify  his  disposition,  will  never 
quite  spoil  it. 

Can  you  give  me  any  information  respecting  Sheridan  Knowles  ? 
A  few  lines  received  from  him  lately,  and  a  present  of  his  George 
Lovell,  induce  me  to  ask  the  question.  Of  course  I  am  aware  that 
he  is  a  dramatic  writer  of  eminence,  but  do  you  know  anything 
about  him  as  a  man  ? 

I  believe  both  Shirley  and  Jane  Eyre  are  being  a  good  deal 
read  in  the  north  just  now;  but  I  only  hear  fitful  rumours  from 
time  to  time.  I  ask  nothing,  and  my  life  of  anchorite  seclusion 
shuts  out  all  bearers  of  tidings.  One  or  two  curiosity-hunters 
have  made  their  way  to  Haworth  Parsonage,  but  our  rude  hills 
and  rugged  neighbourhood  will,  I  doubt  not,  form  a  sufficient 
barrier  to  the  frequent  repetition  of  such  visits. — Believe  me,  yours 
sincerely,  C  BRONTE. 

Letter  416 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

February  5$,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  of  the  happy  change  in 
your  mother's  state,  I  hope  nothing  will  occur  to  give  it  a  check. 
The  relief  when  a  hope  of  recovery  succeeds  to  the  dread  of 
danger  must  be  sweet  indeed.  I  remember  it  was  what  I  intensely 
longed  for,  but  what  it  was  not  seen  good  I  should  enjoy, 

Thank  you  for  the  scrap  of  information  respecting  Sir  J.  K. 
Shuttleworth.  Mr.  Morgan  has  finished  reading  fane  Eyre>  and 
writes  not  in  blame,  but  in  the  highest  strains  of  eulogy !  He  says 
it  thoroughly  fascinated  and  enchained  him,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

Martha  came  in  yesterday,  puffing  and  blowing,  and  much 
excited.  'I've  heard  slch  news/  she  began.  'What  about?' 
6  Please  ma'am,  you  've  been  and  written  two  books,  the  grandest 
books  that  ever  was  seen.  My  father  has  heard  it  at  Halifax,  and 
Mr.  George  Taylor  and  Mr.  Greenwood,  and  Mr.  Merrall  at  Brad- 
ford; and  they  are  going  to  have  a  meeting  at  the  Mechanics' 
Institute,  and  to  settle  about  ordering  them/  ( Hold  your  tongue, 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION 

Martha,  and  be  off/  I  fell  into  a  cold  sweat.  Jane  Eyre  will  be 
read  by  John  Brown,  by  Mrs.  Taylor,  and  Betty.  God  help,  keep, 
and  deliver  me  !  Good-bye.  C.  B. 


Letter  417 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

February  4^,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  return  Amelia's  letter.  The  business  is  a  most 
unpleasant  one  to  be  concerned  in;  it  seems  to  me  now  altogether 
unworthy,  in  its  beginning,  progress,  and  probable  ending.  Amelia 
is  the  only  pure  thing  about  it ;  she  stands  between  her  coarse 
father  and  cold  unloving  suitor  like  innocence  between  a  pair  of 
world-hardened  knaves.  The  comparison  seems  rather  hard  to- 
be  applied  to  Joseph  Taylor,  but  as  I  see  him  now  he  merits  it. 
If  Joseph  Taylor  has  no  means  of  keeping  a  wife — if  he  does  not 
possess  a  sixpence  he  is  sure  of,  how  can  he  think  of  marrying  a 
woman  from  whom  he  cannot  expect  she  should  work  to  keep 
herself.  Joe  Taylor's  want  of  candour,  the  twice  falsified 
account  of  matters,  tell  painfully  and  deeply  against  his  cause. 
It  shows  a  glimpse  of  hidden  motives  such  as  I  refrain  from 
describing  in  words.  It  gives  a  strangely  heartless  calculation  to 
the  whole  proceeding — a  cast  of  which  he  was  conscious,  but 
which,  knowing  how  we  should  judge  it,  he  carefully  and  jealously 
veiled  from  us.  Perhaps  he  is  like  the  majority  of  those  men  who 
lead  a  gay  life  in  their  youth,  and  arrive  at  middle  age  with  feel- 
ings blunted  and  passions  exhausted,  who  have  but  one  aim  in 
marriage,  the  selfish  advancement  of  their  interest.  And  to  think 
that  such  men  take  as  wives,  as  second  selves,  women  young, 
modest,  sincere,  pure  in  heart  and  life,  with  feeling  all  fresh,  and 
emotions  all  unworn,  and  bind  such  virtue  and  vitality  to  their 
own  withered  existence,  such  sincerity  to  their  own  hollowness, 
such  disinterestedness  to  their  own  haggard  avarice, — to  think 
this — troubles-  the  soul  to  its  inmost  depths.  Nature  and  Justice 
forbid  the  banns  of  such  wedlock.  I  write  under  excitement. 
I  am  glad  your  mother  continues  better.  Good-bye. 

C.  BRONTE. 

One  good  thing  can  still  be  said :  he  was  candid  to  Mr.  Ringrose. 
He  explained  his  circumstances  truthfully.  The  germs  of  all 
good  are  not  extirpated. 

VOL.  II.  H 


114  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  418 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

February  i6//*,  1850. 

DEAR  NELL, — I  believe  I  should  have  written  to  you  before, 
but  I  don't  know  what  heaviness  of  spirit  has  beset  me  of  late, 
made  my  faculties  dull,  made  rest  weariness,  and  occupation 
burdensome.  Now  and  then  the  silence  of  the  house,  the  solitude 
of  the  room  has  pressed  on  me  with  a  weight  I  found  it  difficult 
to  bear,  and  recollection  has  not  failed  to  be  as  alert,  poignant, 
obtrusive  as  other  feelings  were  languid.  I  attribute  this  state  of 
things  partly  to  the  weather.  Quicksilver  invariably  falls  low  in 
storms  and  high  winds,  and  I  have  ere  this  been  warned  of 
approaching  disturbance  in  the  atmosphere  by  a  sense  of  bodily 
weakness  and  deep,  heavy  mental  sadness,  such  as  some  would 
call  presentiment, — presentiment  it  is,  but  not  at  all  supernatural. 

The  Haworth  people  have  been  making  great  fools  of  them- 
selves about  Shirley.  They  take  it  in  an  enthusiastic  light.  When 
they  got  the  volumes  at  the  Mechanics'  Institute,  all  the  members 
wanted  them.  They  cast  lots  for  the  whole  three,  and  whoever 
got  a  volume  was  only  allowed  to  keep  it  two  days,  and  was  to  be 
fined  a  shilling  per  diem  for  longer  detention.  It  would  be  mere 
nonsense  and  vanity  to  tell  you  what  they  say, 

I  have  had  no  letters  from  London  for  a  long  time,  and  am 
very  much  ashamed  of  myself  to  find,  now  when  that  stimulus  is 
withdrawn,  how  dependent  on  it  I  had  become.  I  cannot  help 
feeling  something  of  the  excitement  of  expectation  till  the  post 
hour  comes,  and  when,  day  after  day,  it  brings  nothing,  I  get  low. 
This  is  a  stupid,  disgraceful,  unmeaning  state  of  things.  I  feel 
bitterly  enraged  at  my  own  dependence  and  folly ;  but  it  is  so 
bad  for  the  mind  to  be  quite  alone,  and  to  have  none  with  whom 
to  talk  over  little  crosses  and  disappointments,  and  laugh  them 
away.  If  I  could  write,  I  dare  say  I  should  be  better,  but  I  can- 
not write  a  line.  However  (D.V.),  I  shall  contend  against  the 
idiocy. 

I  had  a  rather  foolish  letter  from  Miss  Wooler  the  other  day. 
Some  things  in  it  nettled  me,  especially  an  unnecessarily  earnest 
assurance  that,  in  spite  of  all  I  had  done  in  the  writing  line,  I  still 
retained  a  place  in  her  esteem.  My  answer  took  strong  and  high 
ground  at  once.  I  said  I  had  been  troubled  by  no  doubts  on  the 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  115 

subject ;  that  I  neither  did  her  nor  myself  the  injustice  to  suppose 
there  was  anything  in  what  I  had  written  to  incur  the  just  for- 
feiture of  esteem.  I  was  aware,  I  intimated,  that  some  persons 
thought  proper  to  take  exceptions  at  Jane  Eyre,  and  that  for  their 
own  sakes  I  was  sorry,  as  I  invariably  found  them  individuals  in 
whom  the  animal  largely  predominated  over  the  intellectual, 
persons  by  nature  coarse3  by  inclination  sensual,  whatever  they 
might  be  by  education  and  principle. 

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  indescrib- 
able. I  wish  she  had  lived,  and  that  I  had  known  her. 

Yesterday,  just  after  dinner,  I  heard  a  loud  bustling  voice  in 
the  kitchen  demanding  to  see  Mr.  Bronte,  somebody  was  shown 
into  the  parlour ;  shortly  after  wine  was  rung  for.  '  Who  is  it, 
Martha?'  I  asked.  £  Some  mak1  of  a  tradesman/  said  she,  'he's 
not  a  gentleman,  I  'm  sure.'  The  personage  stayed  about  an  hour, 
talking  in  a  loud  vulgar  key  all  the  time.  At  tea-time  I  asked 

papa  who  it  was.  '  Why/  said  he,  £no  other  than  the  Rev. , 

vicar  of  Bierley ! '  Papa  had  invited  him  to  take  some  refresh- 
ment, but  the  creature  had  ordered  his  dinner  at  the  Black  Bull, 
and  was  quite  urgent  with  papa  to  go  down  there  and  join  him, 
offering  by  way  of  inducement  a  bottle,  or  if  papa  liked, '  two  or 
three  bottles  of  the  best  wine  Haworth  could  afford  ! '  He  said 

he  was  come  with  a  Mr.  C ,  I  think,  from  Bradford,  just  to 

look  at  the  place,  and  reckoned  to  be  in  raptures  with  the  wild 

scenery !  He  warmly  pressed  papa  to  come  and  see  him  at , 

and  to  bring  his  daughter  with  him ! ! !  Does  he  know  anything 
about  the  books,  do  you  think  ?  he  made  no  allusion  to  them.  I 
did  not  see  him,  not  so  much  as  the  tail  of  his  coat.  Martha  said 
he  looked  no  more  like  a  parson  than  she  did.  Papa  described 
him  as  rather  shabby-looking,  but  said  he  was  wondrous  cordial 

1  Sort. 


116  THE  BRONTES 

and  friendly.  Papa,  in  his  usual  fashion,  put  him  through  a  regular 
catechism  of  questions ;  what  his  living  was  worth,  etc.,  etc.  In 
answer  to  inquiries  respecting  his  age  he  affirmed  himself  to  be 
thirty-seven — is  not  this  a  lie?  He  must  be  more.  Papa  asked 
him  if  he  were  married.  He  said  no,  he  had  no  thoughts  of  being 
married,  he  did  not  like  the  trouble  of  a  wife;  he  described  him- 
self as  'living  in  style,  and  keeping  a  very  hospitable  house.' 

Dear  Nell,  I  have  written  you  a  long  letter ;  write  me  a  long 
one  in  answer.  C.  B. 

Does  your  mother  continue  better?  How  are  you,  yourself? 
Do  you  get  the  papers  regularly?  I  have  just  got  a  note  from 
Amelia  Ringrose  enclosing  a  little  ear-cap.  I  hope  she  won't 
trouble  herself  to  make  me  these  small  presents  often.  She  writes 
in  good  spirits  but  says  nothing  about  Joe  Taylor,  indeed  she  has 
never  named  him  to  me,  nor  I  to  her. 


Letter  419 

TO  MISS    WOOLER 

February  — ,  1850. 

Ellen  Nussey  it  seems  told  you  I  spent  a  fortnight  in  London 
last  December;  they  wished  me  very  much  to  stay  a  month, 
alleging  that  I  should  in  that  time  be  able  to  secure  a  complete 
circle  of  acquaintance,  but  I  found  a  fortnight  of  such  excitement 
quite  enough:  the  whole  day  was  usually  spent  in  sight-seeing, 
and  often  the  evening  was  spent  in  society ;  it  was  more  than  I 
could  bear  for  a  length  of  time.  On  one  occasion  I  met  a  party 
of  my  critics — seven  of  them,  some  of  them  had  been  very  bitter 
foes  in  print,  but  they  were  prodigiously  civil  face  to  face ;  these 
gentlemen  seemed  infinitely  grander,  more  pompous,  dashing 
showy,  than  the  few  authors  I  saw.  Mr.  Thackeray,  for  instance, 
is  a  man  of  quiet  simple  demeanour ;  he  is,  however,  looked  upon 
with  some  awe  and  even  distrust,  His  conversation  is  very 
peculiar,  too  perverse  to  be  pleasant.  It  was  proposed  to  me  to 
see  Charles  Dickens,  Lady  Morgan,  Mesdames  Trollope,  Gore> 
and  some  others,  but  I  was  aware  these  introductions  would  bring 
a  degree  of  notoriety  I  was  not  disposed  to  encounter;  I  declined,, 
therefore,  with  thanks. 

Nothing  charmed  me  more  during  my  stay  in  town  than  the 
pictures  I  saw — one  or  two  private  collections  of  Turner's  best 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  117 

water-colour  drawings  were  indeed  a  treat :  his  later  oil-paintings 
are  strange  things — things  that  baffle  description. 

I  twice  saw  Macready  act — once  in  Macbeth  and  once  in  Othello. 
I  astonished  a  dinner-party  by  honestly  saying  I  did  not  like 
him.  It  is  the  fashion  to  rave  about  his  splendid  acting — any- 
thing more  false  and  artificial,  less  genuinely  impressive  than  his 
whole  style  I  could  scarcely  have  imagined ;  the  fact  is,  the 
stage-system  altogether  is  hollow  nonsense,  they  act  farces  well 
enough,  the  actors  comprehend  their  parts  and  do  them  justice. 
They  comprehend  nothing  about  tragedy  or  Shakespeare,  and  it  is 
a  failure.  I  said  so,  and  by  so  saying  produced  a  blank  silence,  a 
mute  consternation.  I  was,  indeed,  obliged  to  dissent  on  many 
occasions,  and  to  offend  by  dissenting.  It  seems  now  very  much 
the  custom  to  admire  a  certain  wordy,  intricate,  obscure  style  of 
poetry,  such  as  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  writes.  Some  pieces 
were  referred  to  about  which  Currer  Bell  was  expected  to  be  very 
rapturous,  and  failing  in  this,  he  disappointed. 

London  people  strike  a  provincial  as  being  very  much  taken  up 
with  little  matters  about  which  no  one  out  of  particular  town- 
circles  cares  much,  they  talk  too  of  persons — literary  men  and 
women  whose  names  are  scarcely  heard  in  the  country,  and  in 
whom  you  cannot  get  up  an  interest.  I  think  I  should  scarcely 
like  to  live  in  London,  and  were  I  obliged  to  live  there,  I  should 
certainly  go  little  into  company,  especially  I  should  eschew  the 
literary  coteries. 

You  told  me,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  to  write  a  long  letter.  I 
have  obeyed  you.  Believe  me  now,  yours  affectionately  and 
respectfully,  C  BRONTE. 

Letter  420 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

March>  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  scribble  you  a  line  in  haste  to  tell  you  of  my 
proceedings.  Various  folks  are  beginning  to  come  boring  to 
Haworth,  on  the  wise  errand  of  seeing  the  scenery  described  in 
Jane  Eyre  and  Shirley ;  amongst  others,  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth 
and  Lady  Shuttleworth  have  persisted  in  coming;  they  were  here 
on  Friday.  The 'baronet  looks  in  vigorous  health,  he  scarcely 
appears  more  than  thirty-five,  but  he  says  he  is  forty-four ;  Lady 
Shuttleworth  is  rather  handsome  and  still  young.  They  were  both 


118  THE  BRONTES 

quite  unpretending,  etc.  When  here  they  again  urged  me  to 
visit  them.  Papa  took  their  side  at  once,  would  not  hear  of  my 
refusing  ;  I  must  go,— this  left  me  without  plea  or  defence.  I 
consented  to  go  for  three  days,  they  wanted  me  to  return  with 
them  in  the  carriage,  but  I  pleaded  off  till  to-morrow.  I  wish  it 
was  well  over. 

If  all  be  well  I  shall  be  able  to  write  more  about  them  when  I 
come  back.  Sir  James  is  very  courtly,  fine-looking ;  I  wish  he 
may  be  as  sincere  as  he  is  polished.  He  shows  his  white  teeth 
with  too  frequent  a  smile  ;  but  I  will  not  prejudge  him. — In  haste, 
yours  faithfully,  C.  B, 

Letter  421 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

March  i6//;,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  found  your  letter  with  several  others  awaiting 
me  on  my  return  home  from  a  brief  stay  in  Lancashire.  The 
mourning  border  alarmed  me  much.  I  feared  that  dread  visitant, 
before  whose  coming  every  household  trembles,  had  invaded  your 
hearth  and  taken  from  you  perhaps  a  child,  perhaps  something 
dearer  still.  The  loss  you  have  actually  sustained  is  painful,  but 
so  much  less  painful  than  what  I  had  anticipated,  that  to  read 
your  letter  was  to  be  greatly  relieved.  Still,  I  know  what  Mrs. 
Williams  will  feel.  We  can  have  but  one  father,  but  one  mother, 
and  when  either  is  gone,  we  have  lost  what  never  can  be  replaced. 
Offer  her,  under  this  affliction,  my  sincere  sympathy,  I  can  well 
imagine  the  cloud  these  sad  tidings  would  cast  over  your  young 
cheerful  family.  Poor  little  Dick's  exclamation  and  burst  of 
grief  are  most  nai've  and  natural ;  he  felt  the  sorrow  of  a  child — a 
keen,  but,  happily,  a  transient  pang.  Time  will,  I  trust,  ere  long 
restore  your  own  and  your  wife's  serenity  and  your  children's 
cheerfulness. 

I  mentioned,  I  think,  that  we  had  one  or  two  visitors  at 
Haworth  lately;  amongst  them  were  Sir  James  Kay-Shuttle- 
worth  and  his  lady.  Before  departing  they  exacted  a  promise 
that  I  would  visit  them  at  Gawthorpe  Hall,  their  residence  on  the 
borders  of  East  Lancashire.  I  went  reluctantly,  for  it  is  always 
a  difficult  and  painful  thing  to  me  to  meet  the  advances  of  people 
whose  kindness  I  am  in  no  position  to  repay.  Sir  James  is  a  man 
of  polished  manners,  with  clear  intellect  and  highly  cultivated 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  119 

mind.  On  the  whole,  I  got  on  very  well  with  him.  His  health  is 
just  now  somewhat  broken  by  his  severe  official  labours  ;  and  the 
quiet  drives  to  old  ruins  and  old  halls  situate  amongst  older  hills 
and  woods,  the  dialogues  (perhaps  I  should  rather  say  monologues, 
for  I  listened  far  more  than  I  talked)  by  the  fireside  in  his  antique 
oak-panelled  drawing-room,  while  they  suited  him,  did  not  too 
much  oppress  and  exhaust  me.  The  house,  too,  is  very  much  to 
my  taste,  near  three  centuries  old,  grey,  stately,  and  picturesque. 
On  the  whole,  now  that  the  visit  is  over,  I  do  not  regret  having 
paid  it.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  there  is  now  some  menace  hanging 
over  my  head  of  an  invitation  to  go  to  them  in  London  during  the 
season— this,  which  would  doubtless  be  a  great  enjoyment  to 
some  people,  is  a  perfect  terror  to  me.  I  should  highly  prize  the 
advantages  to  be  gained  in  an  extended  range  of  observation,  but 
I  tremble  at  the  thought  of  the  price  I  must  necessarily  pay  in 
mental  distress  and  physical  wear  and  tear.  But  you  shall  have 
no  more  of  my  confessions— to  you  they  will  appear  folly.— Yours 
sincerely,  c  BRONTE. 

Letter  422 

TO  GEORGE   SMITH 

March  i6M,  1850. 

I  return  Mr.  H Js  note,  after  reading  it  carefully.     I  tried 

very  hard  to  understand  all  he  says  about  art ;  but,  to  speak  truth, 
my  efforts  were  crowned  with  incomplete  success.  There  is  a 
certain  jargon  in  use  amongst  critics  on  this  point  through  which 
it  is  physically  and  morally  impossible  to  me  to  see  daylight. 
One  thing,  however,  I  see  plainly  enough,  and  that  is  Mr.  Currer 
Bell  needs  improvement,  and  ought  to  strive  after  it ;  and  this 
(D.V.)  he  honestly  intends  to  do— taking  his  time,  however,  and 
following  as  his  guides  Nature  and  Truth.  If  these  lead  to  what 
the  critics  call  art,  it  is  all  very  well;  but  if  not,  that  grand 
desideratum  has  no  chance  of  being  run  after  or  caught.  The 
puzzle  is,  that  while  the  people  of  the  South  object  to  my  deline- 
ation of  Northern  life  and  manners,  the  people  of  Yorkshire  and 
Lancashire  approve.  They  say  it  is  precisely  the  contrast  of  rough 
nature  with  highly  artificial  cultivation  which  forms  one  of  their 
main  characteristics.  Such,  or  something  very  similar,  has  been 
the  observation  made  to  me  lately,  whilst  I  have  been  from  home, 
by  members  of  some  of  the  ancient  East  Lancashire  families, 


120  THE  BRONTES 

whose  mansions  He  on  the  hilly  borderland  between  the  two 
counties.  The  question  arises,  whether  do  the  London  critics,  or 
the  old  Northern  squires,  understand  the  matter  best  ? 

Any  promise  you  require  respecting  the  books  shall  be  willingly 
given,  provided  only  I  am  allowed  the  Jesuit's  principle  of  a 
mental  reservation,  giving  licence  to  forget  and  promise  whenever 
oblivion  shall  appear  expedient.  The  last  two  or  three  numbers 
of  Pendennis  will  not,  I  dare  say,  be  generally  thought  sufficiently 
exciting,  yet  I  like  them.  Though  the  story  lingers  (for  rne),  the 
interest  does  not  flag.  Here  and  there  we  feel  that  the  pen  has 
been  guided  by  a  tired  hand,  that  the  mind  of  the  writer  has  been 
somewhat  chafed  and  depressed  by  his  recent  illness,  or  by  some 
other  cause;  but  Thackeray  still  proves  himself  greater  when  he 
is  weary  than  other  writers  are  when  they  are  fresh.  The  public, 
of  course,  will  have  no  compassion  for  his  fatigue,  and  make  no 
allowance  for  the  ebb  of  inspiration ;  but  some  true-hearted 
readers  here  and  there,  while  grieving  that  such  a  man  should  be 
obliged  to  write  when  he  is  not  in  the  mood,  will  wonder  that, 
under  such  circumstances,  he  should  write  so  well.  The  parcel  of 
books  will  come,  I  doubt  not,  at  such  time  as  it  shall  suit  the  good 
pleasure  of  the  railway  officials  to  send  it  on — or  rather  to  yield  it 
up  to  the  repeated  and  humble  solicitations  of  Haworth  carriers — 
till  when  I  wait  in  all  reasonable  patience  and  resignation,  looking 
with  docility  to  that  model  of  active  self-helpfulness  Pitnch 
friendly  offers  the  £  Women  of  England '  in  his  *  Unprotected 
Female.'1 

Letter  423 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

March  19^,  1850, 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  have  got  home  again,  and  now  that  the  visit 
is  over,  I  am,  as  usual,  glad  I  have  been  :  not  that  I  could  have 
endured  to  prolong  it ;  a  few  days  at  once,  in  an  utterly  strange 
place,  amongst  utterly  strange  faces,  is  quite  enough  for  me. 

When  the  train  stopped  at  Burnley,  I  found  'Sir  James  waiting 
for  me.  A  drive  of  about  three  miles  brought  us  to  the  gates  of 
Gawthorpe,  and  after  passing  up  a  somewhat  desolate  avenue, 
there  towered  the  hall,  grey,  antique,  castellated  and  stately  before 

1  In  Punch,  from  November  3,  1849,  to  April  20,  1850,  there  appeared  twenty 
'Scenes  from  the  Life  of  an  Unprotected  Female,'  in  dialogue  and  stage  directions. 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  121 

me.  It  is  250  years  old,  and  within  as  without,  is  a  model  of  old 
English  Architecture.  The  arms  and  the  strange  crest  of  the 
Shuttleworths  are  carved  on  the  oak  panelling  of  each  room. 
They  are  not  a  parvenu  family  but  date  from  the  days  of 
Richard  III.  This  part  of  Lancashire  seems  rather  remarkable 
for  its  houses  of  ancient  race.  The  Townleys,  who  live  near,  go 
back  to  the  Conquest. 

The  people,  however,  were  of  still  more  interest  to  me  than  the 
house.  Lady  Shuttleworth  is  a  little  woman  thirty-two  years  old, 
with  a  pretty,  smooth,  lively  face.  Of  pretension  to  aristocratic 
airs,  she  may  be  entirely  acquitted ;  of  frankness,  good-humour, 
and  activity  she  has  enough ;  truth  obliges  me  to  add,  that  as  it 
seems  to  me,  grace,  dignity,  fine  feeling  were  not  in  the  inventory 
of  her  qualities.  These  last  are  precisely  what  her  husband 
possesses ;  in  manner  he  can  be  gracious  and  dignified,  his  tastes 
and  feelings  are  capable  of  elevation  :  frank  he  is  not,  but  on  the 
contrary,  politic  ;  he  calls  himself  a  man  of  the  world  and  knows 
the  world's  ways  ;  courtly  and  affable  in  some  points  of  view,  he 
is  strict  and  rigorous  in  others.  In  him  high  mental  cultivation 
is  combined  with  an  extended  range  of  observation,  and  thoroughly 
practical  views  and  habits.  His  nerves  are  naturally  acutely 
sensitive,  and  the  present  very  critical  state  of  his  health  has 
exaggerated  sensitiveness  into  irritability.  His  wife  is  of  a 
temperament  precisely  suited  to  nurse  him  and  wait  on  him  ;  if  her 
sensations  were  more  delicate  and  acute  she  would  'not  do  half  so 
well.  They  get  on  perfectly  together.  The  children,  there  are 
four  of  them,  are  all  fine  children  in  their  way.  They  have  a 
young  German  lady  as  governess,  a  quiet,  well-instructed,  interest- 
ing girl,  whom  I  took  to  at  once,  and,  in  my  heart,  liked  better 
than  anything  else  in  the  house.  She  also  instinctively  took  to 
me.  She  is  very  well  treated  for  a  governess,  but  wore  the  usual 
pale,  despondent  look  of  her  class.  She  told  me  she  was  home- 
sick, and  she  looked  so. 

I  have  received  the  parcel  containing  the  cushions  and  all  the 
etcetera,  for  which  I  thank  you  very  much.  I  suppose  I  must 
begin  with  the  group  of  flowers  ;  I  don't  know  how  I  shall  manage 
it,  but  I  shall  try.  I  have  a  good  number  of  letters  to  answer, 
from  Smith,  from  Williams,  from  Thornton  Hunt,  Lastitia  Wheel- 
wright, Harriet  Dyson,  and  that  Miss  A ,  who  has  written 

again  though  I  did  not  answer  her  first  letter  (more  shame  to  me), 
so  I  must  bid  you  good-bye  for  the  present.  Write  to  me  soon. 


122  THE  BRONTES 

The  brief  absence  from  home,  though  In  some  respects  trying  and 
painful  in  itself,  has  I  think  given  me  a  little  better  tone  of  spirit. 
All  through  this  month  of  February,  I  have  had  a  crushing  time 
of  it.  I  could  not  escape  from  or  rise  above  certain  most  mourn- 
ful recollections, — the  last  few  days,  the  sufferings,  the  remembered 
words,  most  sorrowful  to  me,  of  those  who,  Faith  assures  me,  are 
now  happy.  At  evening  and  bed-time,  such  thoughts  would 

haunt  me,  bringing  a  weary  heartache.     Good-bye  dear . — 

Yours  faithfully,  C.  B. 

Letter  424 

TO  W.  S,  WILLIAMS 

March  igth,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — The  books  came  yesterday  evening  just  as  I 
was  wishing  for  them  very  much.  There  is  much  interest  for  me 
in  opening  the  Cornhill  parcel.  I  wish  there  was  not  pain  too — 
but  so  it  is.  As  I  untie  the  cords  and  take  out  the  volumes,  I  am 
reminded  of  those  who  once  on  similar  occasions  looked  on  eagerly ; 
I  miss  familiar  voices  commenting  mirthfully  and  pleasantly ;  the 
room  seems  very  still,  very  empty  ;  but  yet  there  is  consolation  in 
remembering  that  papa  will  take  pleasure  in  some  of  the  books. 
Happiness  quite  unshared  can  scarcely  be  called  happiness — it 
has  no  taste. 

I  wonder  how  you  can  choose  so  well ;  on  no  account  would  I 
forestall  the  choice.  I  am  sure  any  selection  I  might  make  for 
myself  would  be  less  satisfactory  than  the  selection  others  so 
kindly  and  judiciously  make  for  me ;  besides,  if  I  knew  all  that 
was  coming  it  would  be  comparatively  flat.  I  would  much  rather 
not  know. 

Amongst  the  especially  welcome  works  are  Southey's  Life,  the 
Women  of  France. -,  Hazlitt's  Essays^  Emerson's  Representative  Men  \ 
but  it  seems  invidious  to  particularise  when  all  are  good,  ...  I 
took  up  a  second  small  book,  Scott's  Suggestions  on  Female  Educa- 
tion ;  that,  too,  I  read,  and  with  unalloyed  pleasure.  It  is  very  good  ; 
justly  thought,  and  clearly  and  felicitously  expressed.  The  girls 
of  this  generation  have  great  advantages ;  it  seems  to  me  that  they 
receive  much  encouragement  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  and 
the  cultivation  of  their  minds;  in  these  days  women  may  be 
thoughtful  and  well  read,  without  being  universally  stigmatised  as 
'  Blues '  and  *  Pedants/  Men  begin  to  approve  and  aid,  instead  of 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  123 

ridiculing  or  checking  them  in  their  efforts  to  be  wise.  I  must 
say  that,  for  my  own  part,  whenever  I  have  been  so  happy  as  to 
share  the  conversation  of  a  really  intellectual  man,  my  feeling  has 
been,  not  that  the  little  I  knew  was  accounted  a  superfluity  and 
impertinence,  but  that  I  did  not  know  enough  to  satisfy  just  ex- 
pectation. I  have  always  to  explain,  '  In  me  you  must  not  look 
for  great  attainments :  what  seems  to  you  the  result  of  reading" 
and  study  is  chiefly  spontaneous  and  intuitive.'  .  .  .  Against  the 
teaching  of  some  (even  clever)  men,  one  instinctively  revolts. 
They  may  possess  attainments,  they  may  boast  varied  knowledge 
of  life  and  of  the  world ;  but  if  of  the  finer  perceptions,  of  the  more 
delicate  phases  of  feeling,  they  may  be  destitute  and  incapable,  of 
what  avail  is  the  rest?  Believe  me,  while  hints  well  worth  con- 
sideration may  come  from  unpretending  sources,  from  minds  not 
highly  cultured,  but  naturally  fine  and  delicate,  from  hearts  kindly, 
feeling,  and  unenvious,  learned  dictums  delivered  with  pomp  and 
sound  may  be  perfectly  empty,  stupid,  and  contemptible.  No 
man  ever  yet  £by  aid  of  Greek  climbed  Parnassus,'  or  taught 
others  to  climb  it.  ... 

I  enclose  for  your  perusal  a  scrap  of  paper  which  came  Into  my 
hands  without  the  knowledge  of  the  writer.  He  is  a  poor  working 
man  of  this  village — a  thoughtful,,  reading,  feeling  being,  whose 
mind  is  too  keen  for  his  frame,  and  wears  it  out.  I  have  not 
spoken  to  him  above  thrice  in  my  life,  for  he  is  a  Dissenter,  and 
has  rarely  come  in  my  way.  The  document  is  a  sort  of  record  of 
his  feelings,  after  the  perusal  of  Jane  Eyre\  it  is  artless  and 
earnest,  genuine  and  generous.  You  must  return  it  to  me,  for  I 
value  it  more  than  testimonies  from  higher  sources.  He  said : 
c  Miss  Bronte,  if  she  knew  he  had  written  it,  would  scorn  him ' ; 
but,  indeed,  Miss  Bronte  does  not  scorn  him;  she  only  grieves 
that  a  mind  of  which  this  is  the  emanation  should  be  kept  crushed 
by  the  leaden  hand  of  poverty — by  the  trials  of  uncertain  health 
and  the  claims  of  a  large  family. 

As  to  the  Times,  as  you  say,  the  acrimony  of  its  critique  has 
proved,  in  some  measure,  its  own  antidote;  to  have  been  more 
effective  it  should  have  been  juster.  I  think  it  has  had  little 
weight  up  here  in  the  North :  it  may  be  that  annoying  remarks, 
if  made,  are  not  suffered  to  reach  my  ear;  but  certainly,  while  I 
heard  little  condemnatory  of  Shirley,  more  than  once  have  I  been 
deeply  moved  by  manifestations  of  even  enthusiastic  approbation. 
I  deem  it  unwise  to  dwell  much  on  these  matters ;  but  for  once  I 


124  THE  BRONTES 

must  permit  myself  to  remark,  that  the  generous  pride  many  of 
the  Yorkshire  people  have  taken  in  the  matter  has  been  such  as 
to  awake  and  claim  my  gratitude,  especially  since  it  has  afforded 
a  source  of  reviving  pleasure  to  my  father  in  his  old  age.  The 
very  curates,  poor  fellows !  show  no  resentment :  each  character- 
istically finds  solace  for  his  own  wounds  in  crowing  over  his 
brethren.  Mr.  Donne  was,  at  first,  a  little  disturbed ;  for  a  week 
or  two  he  was  in  disquietude,  but  he  is  now  soothed  down  ;  only 
yesterday  I  had  the  pleasure  of  making  him  a  comfortable  cup  of 
tea,  and  seeing  him  sip  it  with  revived  complacency.  It  is  a 
curious  fact  that,  since  he  read  Shirley^  he  has  come  to  the  house 
oftener  than  ever,  and  been  remarkably  meek,  and  assiduous  to 
please.  Some  people's  natures  are  veritable  enigmas :  I  quite 
expected  to  have  had  one  good  scene  at  least  with  him ;  but  as 
yet  nothing  of  the  sort  has  occurred. 

I  hope  Mrs.  Williams  continues  well,  and  that  she  is  beginning 
to  regain  composure  after  the  shock  of  her  recent  bereavement. 
She  has  indeed  sustained  a  loss  for  which  there  is  no  substitute. 
But  rich  as  she  still  is  in  objects  for  her  best  affections,  I  trust  the 
void  will  not  be  long  or  severely  felt.  She  must  think,  not  of 
what  she  has  lost,  but  of  what  she  possesses.  With  eight  fine 
children,  how  can  she  ever  be  poor  or  solitary  ! — Believe  me,  dear 
sir,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  425 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

March  $ot%,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — You  must  not  wait  for  me  to  come  to 
Brookroyd  before  you  go  to  Tranby,  I  have  no  intention  of 
leaving  home  at  present,  especially  as  it  may  be  necessary  (though 
this  is  quite  uncertain)  that  I  should  go  to  London  for  a  week  or 
two  in  the  course  of  the  spring,  and  if  I  do,  I  should  like  to  see 
you  after  my  return,  since  I  should  then  have  more  to  tell  you. 
I  had  a  letter  from  Amelia  yesterday,  very  kindly  and  sensibly 
written.  She  speaks  of  Joe  and  seems  to  wish  to  get  from  me  a 
distinct  opinion  of  his  character,  etc.  This  I  cannot  give  her, 
for  were  there  no  other  objection,  I  have  as  yet  no  distinct 
opinion,  though  I  may  have  strong  impressions  for  my  own 
use. 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  125 

I  enclose  a  slip  of  newspaper  for  your  amusement ;  me  it  both 
amused  and  touched,  for  it  alludes  to  some  who  are  in  this  world 
no  longer.  It  is  an  extract  from  an  American  paper,  and  is 
written  by  an  emigrant  from  Haworth.  You  will  find  it  a  curious 
mixture  of  truth  and  inaccuracy.  Return  it  when  you  write  again. 
I  also  send  you  for  perusal  an  opinion  of  Jane  Eyre  written  by  a 
working  man  in  this  village  ;  rather,  I  should  say,  a  record  of  the 
feelings  the  book  excited  in  the  poor  fellow's  mind ;  it  was  not 
written  for  my  inspection,  nor  does  the  writer  know  that  his  little 
document  has  by  intricate  means  come  into  my  possession,  and  I 
have  forced  those  who  gave  it,  to  promise  they  will  never  inform 
him  of  the  circumstance.  He  is  a  modest,  thoughtful,  feeling, 
reading  being,  to  whom  I  have  spoken  perhaps  about  three  times 
in  the  course  of  my  life  ;  his  delicate  health  renders  him  incapable 
of  hard  or  close  labour,  and  his  family  are  often  under  the  pressure 
of  want.  He  feared  that  if  '  Miss  Bronte  saw  what  he  had  written 
she  would  laugh  it  to  scorn,3  but  Miss  Bronte  considers  it  one  of 
the  highest,  because  one  of  the  most  truthful  and  artless  tributes 
her  work  has  yet  received.  You  must  return  this  likewise.  I  do 
you  great  honour  in  showing  it  to  you.  Give  my  love  to  all  at 
Brookroyd,  and  believe  me,  yours  faithfully,  -  C.  B. 


Letter  426 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

April  ^rd,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  certainly  do  think  that  you  are  generally  too 
venturesome  in  risking  exposure  to  all  weathers — there  are  sudden 
changes  from  hot  to  cold  and  vice  versa — there  are  fogs,  cold 
penetrating  winds  during  which  all  people  of  constitutions  not 
robust  are  better  in  the  house  than  out  of  doors ;  regular  exercise 
is  an  excellent  thing,  but  in  very  cold  or  damp  and  stormy 
weather,  you  cannot  always  with  prudence  enjoy  it.  I  do  not  wish 
you  to  coddle  yourself,  but  trust  you  will  be  careful,  .  .  .  maladies 
are  sooner  caught  than  cured.  In  your  position  it  is  your  positive 
duty  to  run  no  risks  ;  if  anything  happened  to  you  what  would  be 
your  mother's  condition  ?  *  Do  not  write  again  till  you  can  do  it 
without  fatigue,  but,  as  soon  as  you  feel  able,  indite  me  a  particular, 
detailed  account  of  your  state,  speak  the  exact  truth  and  give  me 
no  deceiving  gloss. — Yours,  C  B. 


126  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  427 

TO  W.  S.   WILLIAMS 

April  3rd,  1850, 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  received  the  Dublin  Review,  and  your 
letter  enclosing  the  Indian  Notices.  I  hope  these  reviews  will  do 
good  ;  they  are  all  favourable,  and  one  of  them  (the  Dublin)  is 
very  able.  I  have  read  no  critique  so  discriminating  since  that 
in  the  Revue  des  deux  Mondes.  It  offers  a  curious  contrast  to 
Lewes's  in  the  Edinburgh,  where  forced  praise,  given  by  jerks, 
and  obviously  without  real  and  cordial  liking,  and  censure,  crude, 
conceited,  and  ignorant,  were  mixed  in  random  lumps — forming  a 
very  loose  and  inconsistent  whole. 

Are  you  aware  whether  there  are  any  grounds  for  that  con- 
jecture in  the  Bengal  Hurkaru,  that  the  critique  in  the  Times  was 
from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Thackeray  ?  I  should  much  like  to  know 
this.  If  such  were  the  case  (and  I  feel  as  if  it  were  by  no  means 
impossible),  the  circumstance  would  open  a  most  curious  and 
novel  glimpse  of  a  very  peculiar  disposition.  Do  you  think  it 
likely  to  be  true? 

The  account  you  give  of  Mrs.  Williams's  health  is  not  cheer- 
ing, but  I  should  think  her  indisposition  is  partly  owing  to  the 
variable  weather ;  at  least,  if  you  have  had  the  same  keen  frost 
and  cold  east  winds  in  London,  from  which  we  have  lately  suffered 
in  Yorkshire.  I  trust  the  milder  temperature  we  are  now  enjoying 
may  quickly  confirm  her  convalescence.  With  kind  regards  to 
Mrs.  Williams, — Believe  me,  my  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTfe 

Letter  428 

TO  W.   S.   WILLIAMS 

April  122/fc,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  own  I  was  glad  to  receive  your  assurance 
that  the  Calcutta  paper's  surmise  was  unfounded.1  It  is  said  that 
when  we  wish  a  thing  to  be  true,  we  are  prone  to  believe  it  true  ; 
but  I  think  (judging  from  myself)  we  adopt  with  a  still  prompter 
credulity  the  rumour  which  shocks. 

It  is  very  kind  in  Dr.  Forbes  to  give  me  his  book.  I  hope 
Mr.  Smith  will  have  the  goodness  to  convey  my  thanks  for  the 
1  That  Thackeray  had  written  the  Times  review  of  Shirley, 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  127 

present.  You  can  keep  it  to  send  with  the  next  parcel,  or  perhaps 
I  may  be  in  London  myself  before  May  is  over.  That  invitation 
I  mentioned  in  a  previous  letter  is  still  urged  upon  me,  and  well 
as  I  know  what  penance  its  acceptance  would  entail  in  some 
points,  I  also  know  the  advantage  it  would  bring  in  others.  My 
conscience  tells  me  it  would  be  the  act  of  a  moral  poltroon  to  let 
the  fear  of  suffering  stand  in  the  way  of  improvement.  But  suffer 
I  shall.  No  matter. 

The  perusal  of  S  out  key's  Life  has  lately  afforded  me  much 
pleasure.  The  autobiography  with  which  it  commences  is  deeply 
interesting,  and  the  letters  which  follow  are  scarcely  less  so, 
disclosing  as  they  do  a  character  most  estimable  in  its  integrity 
and  a  nature  most  amiable  in  its  benevolence,  as  well  as  a  mind 
admirable  in  its  talent.  Some  people  assert  that  genius  is  incon- 
sistent with  domestic  happiness,  and  yet  Southey  was  happy  at 
home  and  made  his  home  happy ;  he  not  only  loved  his  wife  and 
children  though  he  was  a  poet,  but  he  loved  them  the  better 
because  he  was  a  poet.  He  seems  to  have  been  without  taint  ot 
worldliness.  London  with  its  pomps  and  vanities,  learned  coteries 
with  their  dry  pedantry,  rather  scared  than  attracted  him.  He 
found  his  prime  glory  in  his  genius,  and  his  chief  felicity  in  home 
affections.  I  like  Southey. 

I  have  likewise  read  one  of  Miss  Austen's  works — Emma — read 
it  with  interest  and  with  just  the  degree  of  admiration  which 
Miss  Austen  herself  would  have  thought  sensible  and  suitable. 
Anything  like  warmth  or  enthusiasm — anything  energetic,  poig- 
nant, heart- felt  is  utterly  out  of  place  in  commending  these  works  : 
all  such  demonstration  the  authoress  would  have  met  with  a  well- 
bred  sneer,  would  have  calmly  scorned  as  outre"  and  extravagant. 
She  does  her  business  of  delineating  the  surface  of  the  lives  of 
genteel  English  people  curiously  well.  There  is  a  Chinese  fidelity, 
a  miniature  delicacy  in  the  painting.  She  ruffles  her  reader  by 
nothing  vehement,  disturbs  him  by  nothing  profound.  The 
passions  are  perfectly  unknown  to  her ;  she  rejects  even  a  speaking 
acquaintance  with  that  stormy  sisterhood,  Even  to  the  feelings 
she  vouchsafes  no  more  than  an  occasional  graceful  but  distant 
recognition — too  frequent  converse  with  them  would  ruffle  the 
smooth  elegance  of  her  progress.  Her  business  is  not  half  so 
much  with  the  human  heart  as  with  the  human  eyes,  mouth, 
hands,  and  feet.  What  sees  keenly,  speaks  aptly,  moves  flexibly, 
it  suits  her  to  study ;  but  what  throbs  fast  and  full,  though  hidden, 


128  THE  BRONTES 

what  the  blood  rushes  through,  what  is  the  unseen  seat  of  life  and 
the  sentient  target  of  death — this  Miss  Austen  ignores.  She  no 
more,  with  her  mind's  eye,  beholds  the  heart  of  her  race  than  each 
man,  with  bodily  vision,  sees  the  heart  in  his  heaving  breast. 
Jane  Austen  was  a  complete  and  most  sensible  lady,  but  a  very 
incomplete  and  rather  insensible  (not  senseless]  woman.  If  this  is 
heresy,  I  cannot  help  it  If  I  said  it  to  some  people  (Lewes  for 
instance)  they  would  directly  accuse  me  of  advocating  exaggerated 
heroics,  but  I  am  not  afraid  of  your  falling  into  any  such  vulgar 
error. — Believe  me,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BKONTii. 


Letter  429 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

April  I2f/i,  1850, 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  cannot  find  your  last  letter  to  refer  to  and 
therefore  this  will  be  no  answer  to  it — you  must  write  again  by 
return  of  post  if  possible,  and  let  me  know  how  you  are  progress- 
ing. What  you  said  in  your  last  confirmed  my  opinion  that  your 
late  attack  had  been  coming  on  for  a  long  time.  Your  wish  for  a 
cold  water  bath  is,  I  should  think,  the  result  of  fever ;  almost  every 
one  has  complained  lately  of  tendency  to  low  fever.  I  have  felt 
it  in  frequent  thirst  and  infrequent  appetite.  Papa,  too,  and 
Martha,  have  complained.  I  fear  this  damp  weather  will  scarcely 
suit  you,  but  write  and  say  all.  Of  late  I  have  had  many  letters 
to  answer — and  some  very  bewildering  ones — from  people  who 
want  opinions  about  their  books,  who  seek  acquaintance  and  who 
flatter  to  get  it — people  who  utterly  mistake  all  about  me.  They 
are  most  difficult  to  answer,  put  off,  and  appease  without  offending, 
for  such  characters  are  excessively  touchy  and  when  affronted 
turn  malignant.  Their  books  are  too  often  deplorable.  Sir  J.  K. 
Shuttleworth  and  family  are  in  London.  I  enclose  the  last  note 
received  from  him.  You  are  to  read  and  comment  This  was  his 
theme  when  I  was  at  Gawthorpe.  I  then  gave  notice  that  I  would 
not  be  lionised ;  that  is  why  he  talks  of 'small  parties/  I  shall 
probably  go.  I  know  what  the  effect  and  what  the  pain  will  be, 
how  wretched  I  shall  often  feel,  how  thin  and  haggard  I  shall, 
get;  but  he  who  shuns  suffering  will  never  win  victory.  If  I 
mean  to  improve,  I  must  strive  and  endure.  The  visit,  if  made, 
will,  however,  be  short,  as  short  as  I  can  possibly  make  it.  Would 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  129 

to  God  It  were  well  over !  I  have  one  safeguard.  Sir  James  has 
been  a  physician,  and  looks  at  me  with  a  physician's  eye  :  he  saw 
at  once  that  I  could  not  stand  much  fatigue,  nor  bear  the  presence 
of  many  strangers.  I  believe  he  could  partly  understand  how 
soon  my  stock  of  animal  spirits  was  brought  to  a  low  ebb ;  but 
none — not  the  most  skilful  physician — can  get  at  more  than 
the  outside  of  these  things  ;  the  heart  knows  its  own  bitterness 
and  the  frame  its  own  poverty,  and  the  mind  its  own  struggles. 
Papa  is  eager  and  restless  -for  me  to  go ;  the  idea  of  a  refusal 
quite  hurt  him.  Once  more,  would  it  were  well  over! — Yours, 
dear  Nell,  C.  B. 

Amelia  still  writes  to  me.  I  sometimes  find  it  difficult  to 
answer  her  letters,  but  am  always  touched  by  their  amiability. 
Tom  Dixon  wrote  a  note  to  say  they  would  be  here  on  Saturday 
week. 


Letter  430 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

April  13*%,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN,— It  shall  be  my  endeavour  to  come  to  you 
this  week  ;  of  course  I  cannot  be  very  easy  till  I  have  seen  you, 
but  it  is  quite  useless  to  dilate  on  any  impression  your  condition 
makes  on  me.  I  most  earnestly  wish  you  could  have  Mr.  Teale. 
As  to  trifling  with  serious  illness,  the  thought  makes  one  sick. 
God  bless  and  protect  you  I  C.  BRONTE. 

I  think  you  said  the  Birstall  Omnibus  started  from  the  George 
about  4  o'clock  p.m.  Do  not  be  discouraged  if  you  happen  to 
feel  worse  to-day,  the  weather  is  terribly  unfavourable,  an  east 
wind  giving  everybody  cold.  I  cannot  tell  whether  your  com- 
plaint in  any  respects  resembles  Anne's,  but  I  trust  and  hope 
there  is  in  your  case  this  great  difference,  viz.  that  no  vital  organ, 
such  as  the  lungs,  is  already  by  its  inherent  unsoundness  pre- 
disposed to  malady.  I  wonder  what  '  strong  medicine '  Mr.  Carr 
intends  to  give  you.  I  abhor  and  distrust  their  *  strong  medicine,' 
He  is  not  dealing  with  a  horse  or  an  elephant.  In  case  of  any 
decided  change  for  the  better  in  your  state  a  single  line  will 
relieve  me  from  some  anxiety.  Dear  Nell,  if  prayers  will  do  any 
good,  I  shall  remember  you. 

VOL.  II  I 


130  THE  BRONTES 


Letter  431 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

April,  1850, 

Wednesday* 

DEAR  ELLEN. — I  arrived  home  safely  about  half-past  seven  on 
Monday  evening,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  found  papa  far  from 
well,  with  a  bad  cold  ;  to-day,  however,  he  is  much  better.  I 
hope,  with  care,  he  will  soon  be  much  as  usual.  Joe  Taylor  came 
yesterday  punctually  at  2  o'clock.  At  first  he  was  in  an  odious 
humour,  behaving  just  as  you  described  him  that  evening  at 
Brookroyd.  He  had  not  been  in  the  house  10  minutes  before  he 
began  abusing  c  old  Ringrose,'  in  this  strain  he  ran  on — '  he  would 
not  be  kept  waiting,  it  was  humbug,  he  would  give  it  up/  etc.  I 
was  beginning  to  feel  much  disgusted  and  to  wonder  how  the 
time  would  pass  till  six  o'clock.  Papa  being  in  bed,  I  had  my 
visitor  utterly  to  myself.  Soon  after  dinner  he  took  a  turn,  began 
gradually  to  calm,  soften,  talk  rather  affectionately  of  Miss 
Ringrose,  and  less  bitterly  of  her  father  ;  to  these  topics  he  stuck 
almost  the  whole  time,  waxing  more  and  more  amiable  towards 
the  close.  He  had  not  a  word  to  say  that  was  new,  his  visit  was, 
as  I  told  you,  a  caprice.  When  he  left  at  six,  he  announced  that 
he  should  come  again  soon,  and  if  he  does  come,  he  will  talk  the 
same  things  over  again.  I  shall  listen,  mind  my  sewing,  and  be 
as  patient  as  I  possibly  can.  The  visit  did  not  exhaust  me,  I  never 
once  got  excited,  and  talked  very  little.  In  talking  of  Miss 
Ringrose,  his  aim  and  pleasure  seemed  to  be  to  reason  himself 
into  illusion  and  something  like  love,  he  repeated  over  and  over 
again  that  she  looked  'very  nice3  last  time  he  saw  her,  and 
commended  her  conduct  to  the  servants  and  to  all  round  her. 
He  said,  in  short,  what  was  true  and  right,  but  he  said  it  so  often 
I  was  sometimes  at  a  loss  for  responses.  No  need  to  comment 
on  the  affair. 

How  are  you,  and  what  are  the  results  of  the  tooth  extraction  ? 
Give  my  love  to  all  at  Brookroyd,  tell  Mercy  that  I  was  much 
concerned  at  not  bidding  her  good-bye.  Tell  Mrs.  Clapham  that  I 
made  the  pigeons  into  a  pie  and  that  they  were  excellent.  Papa 
found  them  quite  a  treat  and  he  had  no  appetite  for  meat  I  send 
the  Examiner  and  Courier. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  B, 


LITEUARY  RECOGNITION  1 31 

Letter  432 

TO  W.   S.  WILLIAMS 

April 25/>£,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, —  I  cannot  let  the  post  go  without  thanking 
Mr.  Smith  through  you  for  the  kind  reply  to  Greenwood's  applica- 
tion;1 and,  I  am  sure,  both  you  and  he  would  feel  true  pleasure 
could  you  see  the  delight  and  hope  with  which  these  liberal  terms 
have  inspired  a  good  and  intelligent  though  poor  man.  He 
thinks  he  now  sees  a  prospect  of  getting  his  livelihood  by  a 
method  which  will  suit  him  better  than  wool-combing  work  has 
hitherto  done,  exercising  more  of  his  faculties  and  sparing  his 
health.  He  will  do  his  best,  I  am  sure,  to  extend  the  sale  of  the 
cheap  edition  of  fane  Eyre  ;  and  whatever  twinges  I  may  still  feel 
at  the  thought  of  that  work  being  in  the  possession  of  all  the 
worthy  folk  of  Haworth  and  Keighley,  such  scruples  are  more 
than  counterbalanced  by  the  attendant  good; — I  mean,  by  the 
assistance  it  will  give  a  man  who  deserves  assistance.  I  wish 
he  could  permanently  establish  a  little  bookselling  business  In 
Haworth :  it  would  benefit  the  place  as  well  as  himself. 

Thank  you  for  the  Leader,  which  I  read  with  pleasure.  The 
notice  of  Newman's  work  in  a  late  number  was  very  good. — 
Believe  me,  my  dear  sir,  in  haste  yours  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  433 

TO  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE. 

WELLINGTON,  NEW  ZEALAND, 
April vgth  1850. 

DEAR  CHARLOTTE, — I  have  set  up  shop !  I  am  delighted  with 
it  as  a  whole — that  is,  it  is  as  pleasant  or  as  little  disagreeable 
as  you  can  expect  an  employment  to  be  that  you  earn  your 
living  by.  The  best  of  it  is  that  your  labour  has  some  return, 
and  you  are  not  forced  to  work  on  hopelessly  without  result. 
Du  reste,  it  is  very  odd.  I  keep  looking  at  myself  with  one  eye 

1  That  he  should  be  assisted  in  adding  bookselling  to  the  little  stationery  store  which 
helped  him  to  a  livelihood.  The  inscription  on  his  tomb  in  Haworth  churchyard  runs : 
— *In  loving  memory  of  John  Greenwood  of  Haworth,  who  died  March  25,  1863,  aged 
56  years.'  He  gave  Mrs.  Gaskell  a  brief  reminiscence  of  the  Bronte  children  buying 
writing-paper  from  him.  See  Life^  Haworth  edition,  page  294. 


132  THE  BRONTES 

while  I  'm  using  the  other,  and  I  sometimes  find  myself  in  ver 
queer  positions.  Yesterday  I  went  along  the  shore  past  th 
wharfs  and  several  warehouses  on  a  street  where  I  had  neve 
been  before  during  all  the  five  years  I  have  been  in  Wellington 
I  opened  the  door  of  a  long  place  filled  with  packages,  witl 
passages  up  the  middle,  and  a  row  of  high  windows  on  one  side 
At  the  far  end  of  the  room  a  man  was  writing  at  a  desk  beneatl 
a  window.  I  walked  all  the  length  of  the  room  very  slowly,  fo 
what  I  had  come  for  had  completely  gone  out  of  my  head 
Fortunately  the  man  never  heard  me  until  I  had  recollected  it 
Then  he  got  up,  and  I  asked  him  for  some  stone-blue,  saltpetre 
tea,  pickles,  salt,  etc.  He  was  very  civil.  I  bought  some  thing: 
and  asked  for  a  note  of  them.  He  went  to  his  desk  again ;  . 
looked  at  some  newspapers  lying  near.  On  the  top  was  a  circula 
from  Smith  &  Elder  containing  notices  of  the  most  importan 
new  works.  The  first  and  longest  was  given  to  Shirley^  a  boo! 
I  had  seen  mentioned  in  the  Manchester  Examiner  as  written  b) 
Currer  Bell.  I  blushed  all  over.  The  man  got  up,  folding  th< 
note.  I  pulled  it  out  of  his  hand  and  set  off  to  the  door,  looking 
odder  than  ever,  for  a  partner  had  come  in  and  was  watching 
The  clerk  said  something  about  sending  them,  and  I  said  some 
thing  too — I  hope  it  was  not  very  silly — and  took  my  departure. 

I  have  seen  some  extracts  from  Shirley  in  which  you  talk  o 
women  working.  And  this  first  duty,  this  great  necessity,  yoi 
seem  to  think  that  some  women  may  indulge  in,  if  they  give  uj 
marriage,  and  don't  make  themselves  too  disagreeable  to  the 
other  sex.  You  are  a  coward  and  a  traitor.  A  woman  whc 
works  is  by  that  alone  better  than  one  who  does  not;  and  c 
woman  who  does  not  happen  to  be  rich  and  who  still  earns  nc 
money  and  does  not  wish  to  do  so,  is  guilty  of  a  great  fault,  almosl 
a  crime — a  dereliction  of  duty  which  leads  rapidly  and  almosl 
certainly  to  all  manner  of  degradation.  It  is  very  wrong  of  you 
to  plead  for  toleration  for  workers  on  the  ground  of  their  being  in 
peculiar  circumstances,  and  few  in  number  or  singular  in  disposi- 
tion. Work  or  degradation  Is  the  lot  of  all  except  the  very  small 
number  born  to  wealth. 

For  the  last  month  I  have  really  had  a  good  excuse  for  not 
writing  any  more  book.'  I  have  worked  hard  at  something  else, 
We  have  been  moving,  cleaning,  shop-keeping,  until  I  was  really 
tired  every  night— a  wonder  for  me.  It  does  me  good,  and  I  had 
much  rather  be  tired  than  ennuyte.  Have  you  seen  Joe  ?  or  heard 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  133 

anything  of  John  ?  There  is  a  change  gradually  come  over  them 
in  the  last  five  years  that  I  am  only  half  acquainted  with.  Joe's 
gloom  and  John's  wandering  both  show  wretched  health,  and 
Joe's  cure  seems  to  me  very  fantastic.  By  the  eagerness  with 
which  he  seeks  to  be  married  he  evidently  hopes  more  from  the 
change  than  it  will  bring.  It  is  certainly  better  to  be  married,  but 
to  look  forward  to  such  great  things  is  just  insuring  disappoint- 
ment Their  business  gives  no  subject  for  such  depression,  and, 
perhaps,  if  they  were  poorer  they  would  have  more  to  care  for. 
We  all  here  thrive  wonderfully,  Waring  and  his  babies,  Ellen  'and 
myself.  Ellen  is  worst — that  is,  least  well.  She  was  seriously  ill 
on  the  passage  out.  Henry  is  in  Sydney.  I  think  he  will  learn 
Waring's  trade  and  settle  in  Auckland.  John  and  Joe  have 
promised  to  help  him. 

Ellen  is  with  me,  or  I  with  her.  I  cannot  tell  how  our  shop 
will  turn  out,  but  I  am  as  sanguine  as  ever.  Meantime  we 
certainly  amuse  ourselves  better  than  if  we  had  nothing  to  do. 
We  like  it,  and  that 's  the  truth.  By  the  Cornelia  we  are  going 
to  send  home  sketches  and  fern  leaves.  You  must  look  at  them, 
and  it  will  need  all  your  eyes  to  understand  them,  for  they  are  a 
mass  of  confusion.  They  are  all  within  two  miles  of  Wellington, 
and  some  of  them  rather  like — Ellen's  sketch  of  me  especially. 
During  the  last  six  months  I  have  seen  more  '  society  '  than  in  all 
the  last  four  years.  Ellen  is  half  the  reason  of  my  being  invited, 
and  my  improved  circumstances  besides.  There  is  no  one  worth 
mentioning  particularly.  The  women  are  all  ignorant  and  narrow, 
and  the  men  selfish.  They  are  of  a  decent,  honest. kind,  and 
some  intelligent  and  able.  A  Mr.  Woodward  is  the  only  literary 
man  we  know,  and  he  seems  to  have  fair  sense.  This  was  the 
clerk  I  bought  the  stone-blue  of.  We  have  just  got  a  mechanics' 
institute,  and  weekly  lectures  delivered  there.  It  is  amusing  to 
see  people  trying  to  find  out  whether  or  not  it  is  fashionable  and 
proper  to  patronise  it  Somehow  it  seems  it  is.  I  think  I  have 
told  you  all  this  before,  which  shows  I  have  got  to  the  end  of  my 
news.  Your  next  letter  to  me  ought  to  bring  me  good  news, 
more  cheerful  than  the  last.  You  will  somehow  get  drawn  out  of 
your  hole  and  find  interests  among  your  fellow-creatures.  Do 
you  know  that  living  among  people  with  whom  you  have  not  the 
slightest  interest  in  common  is  just  like  living  alone,  or  worse  ? 
Ellen  Nussey  is  the  only  one  you  can  talk  to,  that  I  know  of  at 
least.  Give  my  love  to  her  and  to  Miss  Wooler,  if  you  have  the 


134  THE  BRONTES 

opportunity.  I  am  writing  this  on  just  such  a  night  as  you  will 
likely  read  it — rain  and  storm,  coming  winter,  and  a  glowing  fire. 
Ours  is  on  the  ground,  wood,  no  fender  or  irons ;  no  matter,  we 
are  very  comfortable.  PAG. 

Letter  434 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

April  292^,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  return  Miss  Wooler's  little  note,  which  it 
gave  me  melancholy  pleasure  to  read  ;  it  is  as  you  say  very  like 
her,  thoroughly  characteristic,  both  of  some  of  her  faults  and 
much  of  her  excellence.  By  this  time  I  suppose  you  are  at 
Bradford.  Has  the  change  of  air  done  you  any  good  ? 

We  have  had  but  a  poor  week  of  it  at  Haworth.  Papa  con- 
tinues far  from  well ;  he  is  often  very  sickly  in  the  morning,  a 
symptom  which  I  have  remarked  before  in  his  aggravated  attacks 
of  bronchitis ;  unless  he  should  get  much  better,  I  shall  never 
think  of  leaving  him  to  go  to  London.  Martha  has  suffered  from 
tic-douloureux,  with  sickness  and  fever,  just  like  you.  She  is, 
however,  much  better  at  present.  I  have  a  bad  cold,  and  stub- 
born sore  throat ;  in  short,  everybody  but  old  Tabby  is  out  of 
sorts.  When  Joe  Taylor  was  here,  he  complained  of  sudden 
headache,  and  the  night  after  he  was  gone  I  had  something 
similar,  very  bad,  lasting  about  three  hours. 

I  have  just  got  another  letter  from  Amelia ;  she  is  a  good,  kind 
girl,  but  when  she  is  married  she  must  take  care  to  be  more 
sparing  of  her  love  to  her  spouse  than  she  is  of  epistles  to  her 
friends. 

The  wind  is  in  the  east,  I  fear  it  will  not  suit  you.  Send  me  a 
bulletin  quickly. — Yours  truly,  C  B. 

Letter  435 

TO  W.   S.   WILLIAMS 

May  6/&,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  received  the  copy  of  Jane  Eyre?-     To 
me  the  printing  and  paper  seem  very  tolerable,     Will  not  the 
public  in  general  be  of  the  same  opinion  ?     And  are  you  not 
making  yourselves  causelessly  uneasy  on  the  subject? 
1  The  cheap  one-volume  reprint 


LITEHA11Y  RECOGNITION  135 

I  imagine  few  will  discover  the  defects  of  typography  unless 
they  are  pointed  out.  There  are,  no  doubt,  technical  faults  and 
perfections  in  the  art  of  printing  to  which  printers  and  publishers 
ascribe  a  greater  importance  than  the  majority  of  readers. 

I  will  mention  Mr.  Smith's  proposal  respecting  the  cheap 
publications  to  Greenwood.  I  believe  him  to  be  a  man  on  whom 
encouragement  is  not  likely  to  be  thrown  away,  and  who,  if 
fortune  should  not  prove  quite  adverse,  will  contrive  to  effect 
something  by  dint  of  intelligence  and  perseverance. 

I  am  sorry  to  say  my  father  has  been  far  from  well  lately — the 
cold  weather  has  tried  him  severely  ;  and,  till  I  see  him  better, 
my  intended  journey  to  town  must  be  deferred.  With  sincere 
regards  to  yourself  and  other  Cornhill  friends, — I  am,  my  dear 
sir,  yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  436 

TO  ELLEN    NUSSEY 

May  n fh,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  trust  papa  is  now  really  better,  but  he  has 
been  very  unwell  since  I  wrote  last — without  appetite,  feeble, 
and  sickly.  I  felt  for  some  days  great  anxiety  about  him,  it  is 
impossible  to  disguise  from  myself  that  these  repeated  attacks 
of  bronchitis  are  a  serious  matter.  There  is  something  that 
appears  very  strange,  that  shocks,  in  the  rapid  advance  of  Miss 
Walker's  illness.  Consumption  seems  to  be  more  rapid  as  well 
as  more  general  in  its  ravages  than  formerly. 

The  Miss  Wooler  and  M business  is  characteristic  of  each. 

I  can  well  conceive  the  annoyance  's  vagaries  must  cause. 

I  fear  I  should  be  almost  driven  beside  myself;  certainly  few 
things  are  more  annoying  than  the  wilfulness  of  a  weak  person, 
So  long  as  they  are  tractable  their  deficiencies  can  be  borne  with, 
but  when  they  reject  counsel  and  blunder  into  difficulties  of  their 
own  making,  one  does  not  know  how  to  manage.  Last  Friday 
was  the  day  appointed  for  me  to  go  to  Lancashire,  but  I  did  not 
think  papa  well  enough  to  be  left,  and  accordingly  begged  Sir 
James  and  Lady  Shuttleworth  to  return  to  London  without  me. 
It  was  arranged  that  we  were  to  stay  at  several  of  their  friends' 
and  relatives'  houses  on  the  way;  a  week  or  more  would  have 
been  taken  up  in  the  journey.  I  cannot  say  that  I  regret  having 
missed  this  ordeal ;  I  would  as  lief  have  walked  among  red-hot 


136  THE  BRONTES 

ploughshares ;  but  I  do  regret  one  great  treat,  which  I  shall  now 
miss.  Next  Wednesday  is  the  anniversary  dinner  of  the  Royal 
Literary  Fund  Society,  held  in  Freemasons'  Hall.  Octavian 
Blewitt,  the  secretary,  offered  me  a  ticket  for  the  Ladies1  Gallery. 
I  should  have  seen  all  the  great  literati  and  artists  gathered  in 
the  hall  below,  and  heard  them  speak.  Thackeray  and  Dickens 
are  always  present  among  the  rest  This  cannot  now  be.  I  don't 
think  all  London  can  afford  another  sight  to  me  so  interesting. * 

With  regards  to  all  at  Brookroyd, — I  am,  dear  Nell,  yours 
faithfully,  C.  B. 

Letter  437 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS2 

May  2otAj  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  am  thankful  to  say  that  papa  is  now  so 
much  better — so  nearly  indeed  restored  to  his  usual  state  of 
health,  that  I  trust  to  be  at  liberty  to  come  to  town  next  Thursday. 
I  look  forward  to  the  visit  with  mixed'  feelings,  desiring  it  on  some 
accounts,  dreading  it  on  others. 

Illness  has  of  late  been,  and  still  is,  very  general  here ;  from 
what  you  say  such  seems  also  to  have  been  the  case  in  the  South  ; 
I  am  glad,  however,  to  learn  that  the  invalids  in  your  own  family 
are  convalescent 

Probably  you  can  give  me  no  information  respecting  the  writer 
of  the  letter  forwarded  by  you.  There  was  something  about  it 
which  took  it  out  of  the  usual  category  of  the  letters  I  receive — 
genuine,  earnest,  unaffected;  it  deserved  an  answer,  and  should 
have  had  one,  had  the  address  been  given. — Hoping  to  see  you 
soon,  I  am,  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  438 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

May  2isfj  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — My  visit  is  again  postponed.  Sir  James,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  is  most  seriously  ill,  two  physicians  are  in  attend- 

1  As  an  illustration  of  the  change  of  standpoint  in  half  a  century,  it  may  be  mentioned 
that  many  literary  women  now  denounce  this  privilege  as  a  degradation  of  their  sex. 
The  Royal  Literary  Fund  preserved  the  custom  up  to  within  the  last  two  or  three  years, 
but  invited  women  to  partake  of  the  banquet  on  the  occasion  when  Mr,  J,  M.  Barrie 
took  the  Chair  in  1905. 

2  This  letter  was  lent  me  by  the  owner,  Miss  Winifred  Wrench* 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  137 

ance  twice  a  day,  and  company  and  conversation,  even  with  his 
own  relatives,  are  prohibited  as  too  exciting.  Notwithstanding 
this,  he  has  written  two  notes  to  me  himself,  claiming  a  promise 
that  I  will  wait  till  he  is  better,  and  not  allow  any  one  else  '  to 
introduce  me/  as  he  says,  £into  the  Oceanic  life  of  London.7 
Sincerely  sorry  as  I  was  for  him,  I  could  not  help  smiling  at  this 
sentence.  But  I  shall  willingly  promise.  I  know  something  of 
him,  and  like  part  at  least  of  what  I  do  know.  I  do  not  feel  in 
the  least  tempted  to  change  him  for  another.  His  sufferings  are 
very  great ;  I  trust  and  hope  God  will  be  pleased  to  spare  his 
mind.  I  have  just  got  a  note  informing  me  that  he  is  something 
better ;  but,  of  course,  he  will  vary.  Lady  Shuttleworth  is  much, 
much  to  be  pitied  too ;  his  nights,  it  seems,  are  most  distressing. 

Poor  Mrs.  Gorham  and  Mary!  The  cloud  which  has  come 
over  them  seems  to  linger.  Good-bye,  dear  Nell.  Write  soon 
to  C.  B. 

Letter  439 

TO   JAMES   TAYLOR 

May  22»^,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  had  thought  to  bring  the  Leader  and  the 
Athenceum  myself  this  time,  and  not  to  have  to  send  them  by  post, 
but  it  turns  out  otherwise ;  my  journey  to  London  is  again  post- 
poned, and  this  time  indefinitely.  Sir  James  Kay-Shuttleworth's 
state  of  health  is  the  cause — a  cause,  I  fear,  not  likely  to  be  soon 
removed.  .  .  .  Once  more,  then,  I  settle  myself  down  in  the  quietude 
of  Haworth  Parsonage,  with  books  for  my  household  companions 
and  an  occasional  letter  for  a  visitor ;  a  mute  society,  but  neither 
quarrelsome,  nor  vulgarising,  nor  unimproving. 

One  of  the  pleasures  I  had  promised  myself  consisted  in  asking 
you  several  questions  about  the  Leader,  which  is  really,  in  its  way, 
an  interesting  paper.  I  wanted,  amongst  other  things,  to  ask  you 
the  real  names  of  some  of  the  contributors,  and  also  what  Lewes 
writes  besides  his  'Apprenticeship  of  Life.'  I  always  think  the 
article  headed  '  Literature '  is  his.  Some  of  the  communications 
in  the  e  Open  Council '  department  are  odd  productions ;  but  it 
seems  to  me  very  fair  and  right  to  admit  them.  Is  not  the  system 
of  the  paper  altogether  a  novel  one  ?  I  do  not  remember  seeing 
anything  precisely  like  it  before. 

I  have  just  received  yours  of  this  morning ;  thank  you  for  the 


138  THE  BRONTES 

enclosed  note.  The  longings  for  liberty  and  leisure,  which  May 
sunshine  wakens  in  you,  stir  my  sympathy.  I  am  afraid  Cornhill 
Is  little  better  than  a  prison  for  its  inmates  on  warm  spring  or 
summer  days.  It  is  a  pity  to  think  of  you  all  toiling  at  your 
desks  in  such  genial  weather  as  this.  For  my  part,  I  am  free  to 
walk  on  the  moors ;  but  when  I  go  out  there  alone  everything 
reminds  me  of  the  times  when  others  were  with  me,  and  then  the 
moors  seem  a  wilderness,  featureless,  solitary,  saddening.  My 
sister  Emily  had  a  particular  love  for  them,  and  there  is  not  a 
knoll  of  heather,  not  a  branch  of  fern,  not  a  young  bilberry  leaf, 
not  a  fluttering  lark  or  linnet,  but  reminds  me  of  her.  The  distant 
prospects  were  Anne's  delight,  and  when  I  look  round  she  is  in 
the  blue  tints,  the  pale  mists,  the  waves  and  shadows  of  the 
horizon.  In  the  hill-country  silence  their  poetry  comes  by  lines 
and  stanzas  into  my  mind :  once  I  loved  it ;  now  I  dare  not  read 
it,  and  am  driven  often  to  wish  I  could  taste  one  draught  of 
oblivion,  and  forget  much  that,  while  mind  remains,  I  never  shall 
forget.  Many  people  seem  to  recall  their  departed  relatives  with 
a  sort  of  melancholy  complacency,  but  I  think  these  have  not 
watched  them  through  lingering  sickness,  nor  witnessed  their  last 
moments :  it  Is  these  reminiscences  that  stand  by  your  bedside  at 
night,  and  rise  at  your  pillow  in  the  morning.  At  the  end  of  all, 
however,  exists  the  Great  Hope.  Eternal  Life  is  theirs  now. 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  440 

TO  A  YOUNG  MAN1 

May  237-4  1850. 

DEAR  SIR, — Apologies  are  indeed  unnecessary  for  a  *  reality  of 
feeling,  for  a  genuine,  unaffected  impulse  of  the  spirit/  such  as 
prompted  you  to  write  the  letter  which  I  now  briefly  acknowledge. 

Certainly  it  is  '  something  to  me >  that  what  I  write  should  be 
acceptable  to  the  feeling  heart  and  refined  intellect ;  undoubtedly 
it  is  much  to  me  that  my  creations  (such  as  they  are)  should  find 
harbourage,  appreciation,  indulgence  at  any  friendly  hand,  or  from 
any  generous  mind.  You  are  very  welcome  to  take  Jane,  Caroline, 
and  Shirley  for  your  sisters,  and  I  trust  they  will  often  speak  to 
their  adopted  brother  when  he  Is  solitary,  and  soothe  him  when  he 

1  Reprinted  from  Mrs.    Gaskell's  Life>  and  there  described  as  to  a  young  man  at 
Cambridge  who  had  expressed  admiration  for  her  books. 


LITERARY  RECOGNITION  139 

Is  sad.  If  they  cannot  make  themselves  at  home  in  a  thoughtful, 
sympathetic  mind,  and  diffuse  through  its  twilight  a  cheering 
domestic  glow,  it  is  their  fault ;  they  are  not,  in  that  case,  so 
amiable,  so  benignant,  not  so  real  as  they  ought  to  be.  If  they 
can,  and  can  find  household  altars  in  human  hearts,  they  will  fulfil 
the  best  design  of  their  creation  in  therein  maintaining  a  genial 
flame,  which  shall  warm  but  not  scorch,  light  but  not  dazzle. 

What  does  it  matter  that  part  of  your  pleasure  in  such  beings 
has  its  source  in  the  poetry  of  your  own  youth  rather  than  any 
magic  of  theirs  ?  What  that  perhaps,  ten  years  hence,  you  may 
smile  to  remember  your  present  recollections,  and  view  under 
another  light  both  'Currer  Bell'  and  his  writings?  To  me  this 
consideration  does  not  detract  from  the  value  of  what  you  now 
feel.  Youth  has  its  romance,  and  maturity  its  wisdom,  as  morning 
and  spring  have  their  freshness,  noon  and  summer  their  power, 
night  and  winter  their  repose*  Each  attribute  is  good  in  its  own 
season,  Your  letter  gave  me  pleasure,  and  I  thank  you  for  it 

CURRER  BELL. 

Letter  441 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

May  26 tit,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Papa  has  continued  to  improve  since  I  last 
wrote ;  he  preached  twice  yesterday,  and  as  he  is  extremely 
anxious  I  should  get  over  my  London  visit,  I  intend  if  all  be  well 
to  go  at  the  close  of  this  week. 

I  return  the  Pen  and  Ink  portrait.  I  cannot  say  it  encourages 
me  to  have  my  own  taken.  In  three  things  it  happens  to  hit  the 
truth :  in  making  you  fond  of  giving,  disposed  rather  to  spend 
than  save,  and  in  representing  you  as  conscientious  and  affec- 
tionate. Most  of  the  other  points  offer  so  complete  and  violent 
an  opposition  to  the  truth  as  to  prove  the  whole  thing  quackery. 

As  this  is  Whit-Monday  I  am  busy.  Good-bye,  dear  Nell. — 
Yours  faithfully,  C  B. 


140  THE  BRONTES 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

LONDON  AND   EDINBURGH 

CHARLOTTE  BRONTE  may  be  counted  among  those  who 
have  felt  the  glamour  of  London.  Her  praise  of  it  is 
well  known  to  all  who  collect  the  verdict  of  distinguished 
writers  on  that  great  city.  Her  visits  to  it  were  many,  but 
it  was  the  fifth  visit  in  the  summer  of  1850  that  probably 
secured  to  her  the  greatest  personal  pleasure.  She  spent 
the  opening  of  her  fortnight's  visit  with  Mrs.  Smith, 
now  removed  to  Gloucester  Terrace,  Hyde  Park,  and  she 
closed  it  with  her  friend  Lsetitia  Wheelwright  at  Phillimore 
Gardens.  It  was  on  this  occasion  that  she  first  saw  her 
hero,  the  Duke  of  Wellington ;  she  had  a  conversation 
with  Thackeray,  whom  she  appears  to  have  '  lectured ' ; 
and  she  met  George  Henry  Lewes,  with  whom  she  had 
corresponded  with  so  much  vigour. 

Letter  442 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

76  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE,  HYDE  PARK  GARDENS, 

LONDON,  June  yd^  1850. 

SEAR  ELLEN, — I  came  to  London  last  Thursday.  I  am  stay- 
ing &t  Mrs.  Smith's,  who  has  changed  her  residence  as  the  address 
will  sfepw.  A  good  deal  of  writing  backwards  and  forwards, 
persuasion,  etc.,  took  place  before  this  step  was  resolved  on,  but 
at  last  I  explained  to  Sir  James1  that  I  had  some  little  matters 

Sir  James  $Cay-Shuttleworth  (1804-1877).  A  doctor  of  medicine,  who  was  made  a 
baronet  in  1849,  \on  resigning  the  secretaryship  of  the  Committee  of  Council  on  Educa- 
tion; assumedjjie^name  of  'Shuttleworth  on  his  marriage,  in  1842,  to  Janet,  the  only 
child  and  heiress^of  Robert  Shuttleworth  of  Gawthorpe  Hall,  Burnley  (died  1872).  His 
son  became  Baron  Shuttle  worth  in  1902. 


from  tkepvrkmit  ly  £ 


LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH  141 

of  business  to  transact,  and  that  I  should  stay  quietly  at  my 
publishers.  He  has  called  twice,  and  Lady  Shuttleworth  once  ; 
each  of  them  alone.  He  is  in  a  fearfully  nervous  state.  To  my 
great  horror  he  talks  of  my  going  with  them  to  Hampton  Court, 
Windsor,  etc.  God  knows  how  I  shall  get  on.  I  perfectly 
dread  it. 

Here  I  feel  very  comfortable,  Mrs.  Smith  treats  me  with  a 
serene  equable  kindness  which  just  suits  me.  Her  son  is  as 
before  genial  and  kindly.  I  have  seen  very  few  persons,  and  am 
not  likely  to  see  many,  as  the  agreement  was  that  I  was  to  be 
very  quiet.  We  have  been  to  the  Exhibition  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  to  the  Opera,  and  the  Zoological  Gardens.  The 
weather  is  splendid.  I  shall  not  stay  longer  than  a  fortnight  in 
London.  The  feverishness  and  exhaustion  beset  me  somewhat, 
but  not  quite  so  badly  as  before,  as  indeed  I  have  not  yet  been 
so  much  tried.  I  hope  you  will  write  soon  and  tell  me  how  you 
are  getting  on.  Give  my  regards  to  all. — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  B. 

Letter  443 

TO   L^TITIA  WHEELWRIGHT 

76  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE, 
HYDE  PARK  GARDENS,  June  3rd,  '50. 

DEAR  L^TITIA, — I  came  to  London  last  Thursday  and  shall 
stay  perhaps  a  fortnight.  To-morrow  I  expect  to  go  out  of  town 
for  a  few  days — but  next  week,  if  all  be  well,  I  hope  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  calling  on  you.  If  you  write  to  me  meanwhile, 
address  as  above,  and  I  shall  find  the  letter  on  my  return. 

Give  my  sincere  regards  to  your  papa,  mamma,  and  alJ  round 
the  circle — Emily,  Fanny,  Sarah- Anne,  and,  last  not  least — take  a 
good  share  of  them  to. your  regal  self. — I  am,  yours  sincerely, 

C,  BRONTE. 

Letter  444 

TO   REV.   P.   BRONTE 

76  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE, 
HYDE  PARK  GARDENS,  June  4?%,  1850, 

DEAR  PAPA, — I  was  very  glad  to  get  your  letter  this  morning, 
and  still  more  glad  to  learn  that  your  health  continues  in  some 


142  THE  BRONTES 

degree  to  improve.  I  fear  you  will  feel  the  present  weather  some- 
what debilitating,  at  least  if  it  is  as  warm  in  Yorkshire  as  in 
London.  I  cannot  help  grudging  these  fine  days  on  account  of 
the  roofing  of  the  house,  It  is  a  great  pity  the  workmen  were  not 
prepared  to  begin  a  week  ago. 

Since  I  wrote  I  have  been  to  the  Opera ;  to  the  Exhibition  of 
the  Royal  Academy,  where  there  were  some  fine  paintings,  especi- 
ally a  large  one  by  Landseer  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  on  the 
field  of  Waterloo,  and  a  grand,  wonderful  picture  of  Martin's  from 
Campbell's  poem  of  the  '  Last  Man/  showing  the  red  sun  fading 
out  of  the  sky,  and  all  the  soil  of  the  foreground  made  up  of  bones 
and  skulls.  The  secretary  of  the  Zoological  Society  also  sent  me 
an  honorary  ticket  of  admission  to  their  gardens,  which  I  wish  you 
could  see.  There  are  animals  from  all  parts  of  the  world  enclosed 
in  great  cages  in  the  open  air  amongst  trees  and  shrubs — lions, 
tigers,  leopards,  elephants,  numberless  monkeys,  camels,  five  or  six 
camelopards,  a  young  hippopotamus  with  an  Egyptian  for  its 
keeper ;  birds  of  all  kind — eagles,  ostriches,  a  pair  of  great  condors 
from  the  Andes,  strange  ducks  and  water-fowl  which  seem  very 
happy  and  comfortable,  and  build  their  nests  among  the  reeds  and 
edges  of  the  lakes  where  they  are  kept  Some  of  the  American 
birds  make  inexpressible  noises. 

There  are  also  all  sorts  of  living  snakes  and  lizards  in  cages, 
some  great  Ceylon  toads  not  much  smaller  than  Flossy,  some 
large  foreign  rats  nearly  as  large  and  fierce  as  little  bull-dogs. 
The  most  ferocious  and  deadly-looking  things  in  the  place  were 
these  rats,  a  laughing  hyena  (which  every  now  and  then  uttered 
a  hideous  peal  of  laughter  such  as  a  score  of  maniacs  might  pro- 
duce) and  a  cobra  di  capello  snake.  I  think  this  snake  was  the 
worst  of  all :  it  had  the  eyes  and  face  of  a  fiend,  and  darted  out 
its  barbed  tongue  sharply  and  incessantly. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  Tabby  and  Martha  are  pretty  well. 
Remember  me  to  them,  and — Believe  me,  dear  papa,  your 
affectionate  daughter,  C.  BRONTE. 

I  hope  you  don't  care  for  the  notice  in  Sharped  Magazine ;  it 
does  not  disturb  me  in  the  least  Mr.  Smith  says  it  is  of  no 
consequence  whatever  in  a  literary  sense,  Sharpe,the  proprietor, 
was  an  apprentice  of  Mr.  Smith's  father, 


LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH  143 

Letter  445 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

[LONDON],  June  i2/^,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Since  I  wrote  to  you  last  I  have  not  had  many 
moments  to  myself,  except  such  as  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
to  give  to  rest.  On  the  whole,  however,  I  have  thus  far  got  on 
very  well,  suffering  much  less  from  exhaustion  than  I  did  last 
time. 

Of  course  I  cannot  in  a  letter  give  you  a  regular  chronicle  of 
how  my  time  has  been  spent.  I  can  only  just  notify  what  I  deem 
three  of  the  chief  incidents.  A  sight  of  the  Duke  .of  Wellington 
at  the  Chapel  Royal  (he  is  a  real  grand  old  man),  a  visit  to  the 
House  of  Commons  (which  I  hope  to  describe  to  you  some 
day  when  I  see  you),  and  last,  not  least,  an  interview  with  Mr. 
Thackeray.  He  made  a  morning  call,  and  sat  about  two  hours. 
Mr.  Smith  only  was  in  the  room  the  whole  time.  He  described 
it  afterwards  as  a  '  queer  scene/  and  I  suppose  it  was.  The  giant 
sat  before  me ;  I  was  moved  to  speak  to  him  of  some  of  his 
shortcomings  (literary,  of  course) ;  one  by  one  the  faults  came 
into  my  mind,  and  one  by  one  I  brought  them  out,  and  sought 
some  explanation  or  defence.  He  did  defend  himself,  like  a  great 
Turk  and  heathen ;  that  is  to  say,  the  excuses  were  often  worse 
than  the  crime  itself.  The  matter  ended  in  decent  amity ;  ii  all 
be  well  I  am  to  dine  at  his  house  this  evening. 

I  have  seen  Lewes,  too.  He  is  a  man  with  both  weakness  and 
sins,  but  unless  I  err  greatly  the  foundation  of  his  nature  is  not 
bad ;  and  were  he  almost  a  fiend  in  character  I  could  not  feel 
otherwise  to  him  than  half-sadly,  half-tenderly, — a  queer  word 
that  last,  but  I  use  it  because  the  aspect  of  Lewes's  face  almost 
moves  me  to  tears ;  it  is  so  wonderfully  like  Emily,  her  eyes,  her 
features,  the  very  nose,  the  somewhat  prominent  mouth,  the  fore- 
head, even,  at  moments,  the  expression :  whatever  Lewes  does  or 
says,  I  believe  I  cannot  hate  him.  Another  likeness  I  have  seen, 
too,  that  touched  me  sorrowfully.  You  remember  my  speaking 
of  a  Miss  Kavanagh,  a  young  authoress,  who  supported  her 
mother  by  her  writings.  Hearing  from  Mr.  Williams  that  she 
had  a  longing  to  see  me,  I  called  on  her  yesterday.  I  found  a 
little  almost  dwarfish  figure  to  which  even  I  had  to  look  down, 
not  deformed,  that  is?  not  hunchbacked,  but  long-armed  and 


144  THE  BRONTES 

with  a  large  head,  and  (at  first  sight)  a  strange  face.  She  met  me 
half-frankly,  half-tremblingly ;  we  sat  down  together,  and  when  I 
had  talked  with  her  five  minutes,  her  face  was  no  longer  strange, 
but  mournfully  familiar ; — it  was  Martha  Taylor  on  every  linea- 
ment I  shall  try  to  find  a  moment  to  see  her  again.  She  lives 
in  a  poor  but  clean  and  neat  little  lodging — her  mother  seems  a 
somewhat  weak-minded  woman,  who  can  be  no  companion  to 
her.  Her  father  has  quite  deserted  his  wife  and  child,  and  this 
poor  little,  feeble,  intelligent,  cordial  thing  wastes  her  brains  to 
gain  a  living.  She  is  twenty-five  years  old.  I  do  not  intend  to 
stay  here,  at  the  furthest,  more  than  a  week  longer ;  but  at  the 
end  of  that  time  I  cannot  go  home,  for  the  house  at  Haworth  is 
just  now  unroofed,  repairs  were  become  necessary. 

I  should  like  to  go  for  a  week  or  two  to  the  seaside,  in  which 
case  I  wonder  whether  it  would  be  possible  for  you  to  join  me. 
Meantime,  with  regards  to  all,  believe  me,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  B. 

Letter  446 

TO  MARTHA  BROWN 

LONDON,  June  i$tk,  1850. 

DEAR  MARTHA, — I  have  not  forgotten  my  promise  of  writing 
to  you,  though  a  multitude  and  variety  of  engagements  have 
hitherto  prevented  me  from  fulfilling  it. 

It  appears,  from  a  letter  I  received  from  papa  this  morning,  that 
you  are  now  in  the  bustle  of  unroofing ;  and  I  look  with  much 
anxiety  on  a  somewhat  cloudy  sky,  hoping  and  trusting  that  it 
will  not  rain  till  all  is  covered  in. 

You  and  Martha  Redman  are  to  take  care  not  to  break  your 
backs  with  attempting  to  lift  and  carry  heavy  weights ;  also  you 
are  not  foolishly  to  run  into  draughts,  go  out  without  caps  or 
bonnets,  or  otherwise  take  measures  to  make  yourselves  ill.  I  am 
rather  curious  to  know  how  you  have  managed  about  a  sleeping- 
place  for  yourself  and  Tabby. 

You  must  not  expect  that  I  should  give  you  any  particular 
description  of  London,  as  that  would  take  up  a  good  deal  of  time, 
and  I  have  only  a  few  minutes  to  spare.  I  shall  merely  say  that 
it  is  a  Babylon  of  a  place,  and  just  now  particularly  gay  and  noisy 
as  this  is  what  is  called  the  height  of  the  London  season,  and  all 
the  fine  people  are  in  town.  I  saw  a  good  many  lords  and  ladies 


LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH  145 

at  the  Opera  a  few  nights  since,  and,  except  for  their  elegant 
dresses,  do  not  think  them  either  much  better  or  much  worse  than 
other  people. 

In  answer  to  this  you  may,  when  you  have  time,  write  me  a  few 
lines,  in  which  you  may  say  how  papa  is,  how  you  and  Tabby  are, 
how  the  house  is  getting  on,  and  how  Mr.  Nicholls  prospers. 

With  kind  regards  to  Tabby,  and  Martha  Redman,  I  am,  dear 
Martha,  your  sincere  friend,  C,  BRONTE. 


Letter  447 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

76  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE, 
HYDE  PARK  GARDENS,  June  21  st,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  leaving  London,  if  all  be  well,  on  Tuesday, 
and  shall  be  very  glad  to  come  to  you  for  a  few  days,  if  that 
arrangement  still  remains  convenient  to  you.  I  intend  to  start  at 
9  o'clock  A.M.  by  the  express  train  which  arrives  in  Leeds  35m.  past 
two.  I  should  then  be  at  Batley  about  4  in  the  afternoon.  Would 
that  suit  ?  My  London  visit  has  much  surpassed  my  expectations 
this  time ;  I  have  suffered  less  and  enjoyed  more  than  before;  rather 
a  trying  termination  yet  remains  to  me.  Mrs.  Smith's  youngest 
son  is  at  school  in  Scotland,  and  George,  her  eldest,  is  going  to 
fetch  him  home  for  the  vacation  ;  the  other  evening  he  announced 
his  intention  of  taking  one  of  his  sisters  with  him,  and  proposed 
that  Miss  Bronte  should  go  down  to  Edinburgh  and  join  them 
there,  and  see  that  city  and  its  suburbs.  I  concluded  he  was 
joking,  laughed  and  declined:  however,  it  seems  he  was  in  earnest 
The  thing  appearing  to  me  perfectly  out  of  the  question,  I  still 
refused.  Mrs.  Smith  did  not  favour  it ;  you  may  easily  fancy  how 
she  helped  me  to  sustain  my  opposition,  but  her  worthy  son  only 
waxed  more  determined.  His  mother  is  master  of  the  house,  but 
he  is  master  of  his  mother.  This  morning  she  came  and  entreated 
me  to  go.  ( George  wished  it  so  much ' ;  he  had  begged  her  to  use 
her  influence,  etc,,  etc.  Now  I  believe  that  George  and  I  under- 
stand each  other  very  well,  and  respect  each  other  very  sincerely. 
We  both  know  the  wide  breach  time  has  made  between  us  ;  we  do 
not  embarrass  each  other,  or  very  rarely,  my  six  or  eight  years  of 
seniority,  to  say  nothing  of  lack  of  all  pretension  to  beauty,  etc., 
are  a  perfect  safeguard.  I  should  not  in  the  least  fear  to  go  with 

VOL.  II.  K 


146  THE  BRONTES 

him  to  China.  I  like  to  see  him  pleased,  I  greatly  dKrlike  to  ruffle 
and  disappoint  him,  so  he  shall  have  his  mind,  and,  if  all  be  well, 
I  mean  to  join  him  in  Edinburgh  after  I  shall  have  spent  a  few 
days  with  you.  With  his  buoyant  animal  spirits  and  youthful  vigour 
he  will  make  severe  demands  on  my  muscles  and  nerves,  but  I 
dare  say  I  shall  get  through  somehow,  and  then  perhaps  come 
back  to  rest  a  few  days  with  you  before  I  go  home.  With  kind 
regards  to  all  at  Brookroyd,  your  guests  included, — I  am,  dear 
Ellen,  yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Write  by  return  of  post. 

Letter  448 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

July  $tk,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — We  shall  leave  Edinburgh  to-morrow  morning 
at  a  quarter  to  ten,  arrive  in  York  at  40  m.  past  three.  From 
York  I  think  there  is  no  train  to  Leeds  till  about  6.30.  If  so,  I 
shall  not  reach  Leeds  till  8  o'clock  ;  too  late  for  the  train  to 
Batley.  If  it  is  really  too  late  I  shall  take  a  cab  at  Leeds,  for  I 
would  rather  do  that  than  stay  at  an  Inn  all  night.  I  got  to 
Edinburgh  very  safely;  it  is  a  glorious  city.  I  wish  you  were 
with  us  and  could  see  all  we  saw  yesterday.  London  seems  a 
dreary  place  compared  to  it.  Mr.  Smith  was  a  little  bit  angry  at 
first  about  my  not  having  come.  Unless  plans  are  again  changed 
we  shall  travel  all  together  as  far  as  York.  We  are  just  going  out, 
so  good-bye,  dear  Nell.  Kind  regards  to  all. — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  B. 

Letter  449 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  July  15^,  1850. 

DEA!^  NELL, — I  got  home  very  well,  and  full  glad  was  I  that  no 
Insuperable  obstacle  had  deferred  my  return  a  single  day  longer. 
Just  at  the  t^?ot  of  Bridgehouse  hill,  I  met  John  Greenwood,  staff 
in  hand ;  he  fortunately  saw  me  in  the  cab,  stopped,  and  informed 
me  he  was  setting  off  to  Brookroyd,  by  Mr.  Bronte's  orders,  to  see 
how  I  was,  for  t&at  he  had  been  quite  miserable  ever  since  he  got 
Miss  Nussey's  letter.  I  found,  on  my  arrival,  that  papa  had 


LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH  147 

worked  himself  up  to  a  sad  pitch  of  nervous  excitement  and 
alarm,  in  which  Martha  and  Tabby  were  but  too  obviously  joining 
him.  I  cannot  deny  but  I  was  annoyed  ;  there  really  being  small 
cause  for  it  all.  I  hope  you  got  to  Hull  well.  The  house  looks 
very  clean,  and,  I  think,  is  not  damp  ;  there  is,  however,  still  a 
great  deal  to  do  in  the  way  of  settling  and  arranging,  enough  to 
keep  me  disagreeably  busy  for  some  time  to  come.  I  was  truly 
thankful  to  find  papa  pretty  well,  but  I  fear  he  is  just  beginning 
to  show  symptoms  of  a  cold  :  my  cold  continues  better.  I  have 
recently  found  that  papa's  great  discomposure  had  its  origin  in 
two  sources — the  vague  fear  of  my  being  somehow  about  to  be 
married  to  somebody,  having  received  some  overtures  as  he  ex- 
pressed himself — as  well  as  an  apprehension  of  illness.  I  have 
distinctly  cleared  away  the  first  cause  of  uneasiness.  An  article 
in  a  newspaper,  I  found  awaiting  me  on  my  arrival,  amused  me ; 
it  was  a  paper  published  while  I  was  in  London.  I  enclose  it  to 
give  you  a  laugh ;  it  professes  to  be  written  by  an  Author  jealous 
of  Authoresses.  I  do  not  know  who  he  is,  but  he  must  be  one  of 
those  I  met.  I  saw  Geraldine  Jewsbury  and  Mrs.  Crowe.  The 
'ugly  men,'  giving  themselves  *  Rochester  airs/  is  no  bad  hit;  some 
of  those  alluded  to  will  not  like  it.  Love  to  Amelia,  and  repeat  to 
her  my  thanks  for  her  kind  invitation  and  my  regret  that  I  could 
not  accept  it — Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  450 

TO  W.   S.  WILLIAMS 

HAWORTH,  July  i$t%,  1850. 

I  would  not  write  to  you  immediately  on  my  arrival  at  home, 
because  each  return  to  this  old  house  brings  with  it  a  phase  of 
feeling  which  it  is  better  to  pass  through  quietly  before  beginning 
to  indite  letters.  The  six  weeks  of  change  and  enjoyment  are 
past,  but  they  are  not  lost ;  memory  took  a  sketch  of  each  as 
it  went  by,  and,  especially,  a  distinct  daguerreotype  of  the  two 
days  I  spent  in  Scotland.  Those  were  two  very  pleasant  days.  I 
always  liked  Scotland  as  an  idea,  but  now,  as  a  reality,  I  like  it 
far  better ;  it  furnished  me  with  some  hours  as  happy  almost  as 
any  I  ever  spent  Do  not  fear,  however,  that  I  am  going  to  bore 
you  with  description :  you  will,  before  now,  have  received  a  pithy 
and  pleasant  report  of  all  things,  to  which  any  addition  of  mine 


148  THE  BRONTES 

would  be  superfluous.  My  present  endeavours  are  directed  towards 
recalling  my  thoughts,  cropping  their  wings,  drilling  them  into 
correct  discipline,  and  forcing  them  to  settle  to  some  useful  work : 
they  are  idle,  and  keep  taking  the  train  down  to  London,  or 
making  a  foray  over  the  Border — especially  are  they  prone  to 
perpetrate  that  last  excursion ;  and  who,  indeed,  that  has  once 
seen  Edinburgh,  with  its  couchant  crag-lion,  but  must  see  it  again 
in  dreams,  waking  or  sleeping?  My  dear  sir,  do  not  think  I 
blaspheme  when  I  tell  you  that  your  great  London,  as  compared 
to  Dun-Edin, £  mine  own  romantic  town,'  is  as  prose  compared  to 
poetry,  or  as  a  great  rumbling,  rambling,  heavy  epic  compared  to 
a  lyric,  brief,  bright,  clear,  and  vital  as  a  flash  of  lightning.  You 
have  nothing  like  Scott's  monument,  or  if  you  had  that,  and  all 
the  glories  of  architecture  assembled  together,  you  have  nothing- 
like  Arthur's  Seat,  and  above  all  you  have  not  the  Scotch  national 
character  •  and  it  is  that  grand  character  after  all  which  gives  the 
land  its  true  charm,  its  true  greatness. 

It  was  during  this  visit  to  London  that  Charlotte  Bronte 
sat  for  her  portrait  to  Richmond  It  is  the  only  portrait 
extant  of  her  with  any  degree  of  accuracy  or  any  certainty 
of  pedigree.  This  crayon  drawing  was  the  gift  of  Mr. 
George  Smith  to  her  father.  It  hung  during  her  lifetime 
in  the  parlour  at  Haworth,  but  after  her  death  was  taken 
by  her  husband,  Mr.  Arthur  Bell  Nicholls,  to  his  ancestral 
home  at  Banagher,  Ireland.  It  was  twice  brought  to 
London  for  short  periods  during  the  next  fifty  years, 
bequeathed  to  the  National  Portrait  Gallery  in  his  will  by 
Mr.  Nicholls,  and  found  a  permanent  home  there  in  the 
year  1907. 


Letter  451 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

July  \%th,  1850, 

DEAR  ELLEN, — You  must  cheer  up,  for  your  letter  proves  to  me 
that  you  are  low  spirited.  As  for  me,  what  I  said  is  to  be  taken 
in  this  sense — that,  under  the  circumstances,  it  would  be  presump- 
tion in  me  to  calculate  on  a  long  life ;  a  truth  obvious  enough. 


LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH  149 

For  the  rest,  we  are  all  in  the  hands  of  Him  who  apportions  His 
gifts — health  or  sickness,  length  or  brevity  of  days  as  is  best  for 
the  receiver ;  to  him,  who  has  work  to  do,  time  will  be  given  in 
which  to  do  It ;  for  him  to  whom  no  task  is  assigned  the  season  of 
rest  will  come  earlier :  as  to  the  suffering  preceding  our  last  sleep 
— the  sickness,  decay,  the  struggle  of  spirit  and  flesh,  it  must  come 
sooner  or  later  to  all.  If,  in  one  point  of  view,  it  is  sad  to  have 
few  ties  in  this  world,  in  another  point  of  view  it  is  soothing ; 
women  who  have  husbands  and  children  must  look  forwards  to 
death  with  more  pain,  more  fear,  than  those  who  have  none.  To 
dismiss  the  subject,  I  wish  (without  cant,  and  not  in  any  hackneyed 
sense)  that  you  and  I  could  always  say  in  this  matter — the  will  of 
God  be  done. 

I  am  beginning  to  get  settled  at  home,  but  the  solitude  seems 
heavy  as  yet,  it  is  a  great  change,  but  in  looking  forward  I  try  to 
hope  for  the  best.  So  little  faith  have  I  in  the  power  of  any 
temporary  excitement  to  do  real  good,  that  I  have  put  off  day  by 
day  writing  to  London  to  tell  them  I  am  come  home — and  till 
then  it  was  agreed  that  I  should  not  hear  from  them.  It  is  pain- 
ful to  be  dependent  on  the  small  stimulus  letters  give.  I  some- 
times think  I  will  renounce  it  altogether,  close  all  correspondence 
on  some  quiet  pretext,  and  cease  to  look  forward  at  post  time  for 
any  letters  but  yours. 

I  send  the  French  newspaper  to-day.  The  Examiner  went 
yesterday.  Give  my  love  to  Amelia,  and  believe  me,  yours  faith- 
fully, C.  B. 


Letter  452 

TO   L^ETITIA  WHEELWRIGHT 

HAWORTH,/^//  so/fc,  1850. 

MY  BEAR  L^ETITIA, — I  promised  to  write  to  you  when  I  should 
have  returned  home.  Returned  home  I  am,  but  you  may  conceive 
that  many,  many  matters  solicit  attention  and  demand  arrange- 
ment in  a  house  which  has  lately  been  turned  topsy-turvy  in  the 
operation  of  unroofing.  Drawers  and  cupboards  must  wait  a 
moment,  however,  while  I  fufil  my  promise,  though  it  Is  impera- 
tively necessary  that  this  fulfilment  should  be  achieved  with 
brevity. 

My  stay  in  Scotland  was  short,  and  what  I  saw  was  chiefly  com- 


150  THE  BRONTES 

prised  in  Edinburgh  and  the  neighbourhood,  in  Abbotsford  and 
Melrose,  for  I  was  obliged  to  relinquish  my  first  intention  of  going 
from  Glasgow  to  Oban  and  thence  through  a  portion  of  the  High- 
lands. But  though  the  time  was  brief,  and  the  view  of  objects 
limited,  I  found  such  a  charm  of  situation,  association,  and  circum- 
stances that  I  think  the  enjoyment  experienced  in  that  little  space 
equalled  in  degree  and  excelled  in  kind  all  which  London  yielded 
during  a  month's  sojourn,  Edinburgh  compared  to  London  is  like 
a  vivid  page  of  history  compared  to  a  huge  dull  treatise  on 
political  economy ;  and  as  to  Melrose  and  Abbotsford,  the  very 
names  possess  music  and  magic. 

I  am  thankful  to  say  that  on  my  return  home  I  found  papa 
pretty  well.  Full  often  had  I  thought  of  him  when  I  was  far 
away ;  and  deeply  sad  as  it  is  on  many  accounts  to  come  back  to 
this  old  house,  yet  I  was  glad  to  be  with  him  once  more. 

You  were  proposing,  I  remember,  to  go  into  the  country;  I  trust 
you  are  there  now  and  enjoying  this  fine  day  in  some  scene  where 
the  air  will  not  be  tainted,  nor  the  sunshine  dimmed,  by  London 
smoke.  If  your  papa,  mamma,  or  any  of  your  sisters  are  within 
reach,  give  them  my  kindest  remembrances — if  not,  save  such  re- 
membrances till  you  see  them. — Believe  me,  my  dear  Lsetitia, 
yours  hurriedly  but  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  453 

TO   GEORGE   SMITH 

HAWORTH,  August  isf,  1850, 

The  little  box  for  me  came  at  the  same  time  as  the  large  one 
for  papa.  When  you  first  told  me  that  you  had  had  the  Duke's 
picture  framed,  and  had  given  it  to  me,  I  felt  half  provoked  with 
you  for  performing  such  a  work  of  supererogation,  but  now,  when 
I  see  it  again,  I  cannot  but  acknowledge  that,  in  so  doing,  you 
were  felicitously  inspired.  It  is  his  very  image,  and,  as  papa  said 
when  he  saw  it,  scarcely  in  the  least  like  the  ordinary  portraits; 
not  only  the  expression,  but  even  the  form  of  the  head  is  different, 
and  of  a  far  nobler  character.  I  esteem  it  a  treasure.  The  lady 
who  left  the  parcel  for  me  was,  it  seems,  Mrs.  Gore.  The  parcel 
contained  one  of  her  works,  The  Hamiltons.,  and  a  very  civil  and 
friendly  note,  in  which  I  find  myself  addressed  as  '  Dear  Jane.' 
Papa  seems  much  pleased  with  the  portrait,  as  do  the  few  other 


LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH  151 

persons  who  have  seen  it,  with  one  notable  exception,  viz.  our  old 
servant,  who  tenaciously  maintains  that  it  is  not  like — that  it  is 
too  old-looking — but,  as  she,  with  equal  tenacity,  asserts  that  the 
Duke  of  Wellington's  picture  is  a  portrait  of  £  the  Master '  (mean- 
ing papa),  I  am  afraid  not  much  weight  is  to  be  ascribed  to  her 
opinion  ;  doubtless  she  confuses  her  recollections  of  me  as  I  was 
in  childhood  with  present  impressions.  Requesting  always  to  be 
very  kindly  remembered  to  your  mother  and  sisters,  I  am  yours 
very  thanklessly  (according  to  desire),  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  454 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

August  isf,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — I  have  certainly  felt  the  late  wet  weather 
a  good  deal  and  been  somewhat  bothered  with  frequently  return- 
ing colds,  and  so  has  papa.  About  him,  I  have  been  far  from 
happy ;  every  cold  seems  to  make  and  leave  him  so  weak ;  it  is 
easy  to  say  this  world  is  only  a  scene  of  probation,  but  it  is  a 
hard  thing  to  feel.  Give  Charlotte  Bronte's  sincere  love  to  Rosfe 
Ringrose. 

My  portrait  is  come  from  London,  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington's, 
and  kind  letters  enough.  Papa  thinks  the  portrait  looks  older 
than  I  do  :  he  says  the  features  are  far  from  flattered,  but  acknow- 
ledges that  the  expression  is  wonderfully  good  and  life-like. 

I  left  the  book  called  Social  Aspects  at  Brookroyd :  accept 
it  from  me.  I  may  well  give  it  you,  for  the  Author  has  kindly 
sent  me  another  copy.  Write  to  me  again  soon,  and  believe  me, 
dear  Ellen,  yours  faithfully,  C  B. 

Letter  455 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

August  7  tfry  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  truly  sorry  that  I  allowed  the  words  to 
which  you  refer  to  escape  my  lips,  since  their  effect  on  you  has 
been  unpleasant ;  but  try,  dear  Ellen,  to  chase  every  shadow  of 
anxiety  from  your  mind,  and,  unless  the  restraint  be  very  disagree- 
able to  you,  permit  me  to  add  an  earnest  request  that  you  will  broach 
the  subject  to  me  no  more.  It  is  the  undisguised  and  most  harass- 
ing anxiety  of  others  that  has  fixed  in  my  mind  thoughts  and 


152  THE  BRONTES 

expectations  which  must  canker  wherever  they  take  root;  against 
;vhlch  every  effort  of  religion  or  philosophy  must  at  times  totally 
Fail  ;  and  subjugation  to  which  is  a  cruel,  terrible  fate  —  the  fate, 
indeed,  of  him  whose  life  was  passed  under  a  sword  suspended  by 
a  horse-hair.  I  have  had  to  entreat  papa's  consideration  on  this 
point.  My  nervous  system  is  soon  wrought  upon.  I  should  wish 
to  keep  it  in  rational  strength  and  coolness  ;  but  to  do  so  I  must 
determinedly  resist  the  kindly-meant,  but  too  irksome  expression 
Df  an  apprehension,  for  the  realisation  or  defeat  of  which  I  have 
no  possible  power  to  be  responsible.  At  present,  I  am  pretty  well, 
thank  God!  Papa,  I  trust,  is  no  worse,  but  he  complains  of 
weakness.  Amelia  tells  me  you  are  looking  well,  which  I  am  truly 
glad  to  hear,  and  glad  also  to  learn  that  you  get  on  pleasantly 
with  the  turtle-doves,  and  even,  it  seems,  have  your  share  of 
billing  and  cooing.  I  own  I  should  be  better  pleased  if  the  latter 
ivere  something  substantial  and  serious,  and  likely  to  lead  to 
permanent  happiness.  I  am  glad  to  hear  a  good  account  of  Joe 
Taylor.  Let  us  hope  for  the  best.  Take  care  of  yourself.  Good- 
,  dear  Nell,  C.  BRONTE. 


P.S.  —  I  am  going  on  Monday  (D.V.)  a  journey,  whereof  the 
prospect  cheers  me  not  at  all,  to  Windermere  in  Westmore- 
land, to  spend  a  few  days  with  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth,  who  has 
taken  a  house  there  for  the  autumn  and  winter.  I  consented  to 
50  with  reluctance,  chiefly  to  please  papa,  whom  a  refusal  on  my 
part  would  have  much  annoyed  ;  but  I  dislike  to  leave  him.  I 
trust  he  is  not  worse,  but  his  complaint  is  still  weakness.  It  is 
not  right  to  anticipate  evil,  and  to  be  always  looking  forward  with 
an  apprehensive  spirit  ;  but  I  think  grief  is  a  two-edged  sword,  it 
cuts  both  ways;  the  memory  of  one  loss  is  the  anticipation  of 
another. 

Letter  456 

TO  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

WELLINGTON,  August  i$tk>  1850. 

DEAR  CHARLOTTE,  —  After  waiting  about  six  months  we  have 
[ust  got  Shirley.  It  was  landed  from  the  Constantinople  on  Monday 
ifternoon,  just  in  the  thick  of  our  preparations  for  a  'small  party1 
or  the  next  day.  We  stopped  spreading  red  blankets  over  every- 
hing  (New  Zealand  way  of  arranging  a  room)  and  opened  the 


LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH  153 

box  and  read  all  the  letters.  Soyer's  Housewife  and  Shirley  were 
there  all  right,  but  Miss  Martineau's  book  was  not  In  its  place 
was  a  silly  child's  tale  called  Edward  Orland.  This  was  Joe's 
fault,  no  doubt,  for  I  see  in  one  of  your  letters  you  suspect  him 
of  it.  On  Tuesday  we  stayed  up  dancing  till  three  or  four  o'clock, 
what  for  I  can't  imagine.  However,  it  was  a  piece  of  business 
done.  On  Wednesday  I  began  Shirley  and  continued  in  a  curious 
confusion  of  mind  till  now,  principally  at  the  handsome  foreigner 
who  was  nursed  In  our  house  when  I  was  a  little  girl.  By  the 
way,  you  've  put  him  in  the  servant's  bedroom.  You  make  us  all 
talk  much  as  I  think  we  should  have  done  if  we  ?d  ventured  to 
speak  at  all.  What  a  little  lump  of  perfection  you  Jve  made  me  ! 
There  is  a  strange  feeling  in  reading  it  of  hearing  us  all  talking. 
I  have  not  seen  the  matted  hall  and  painted  parlour  windows  so 
plain  these  five  years.  But  my  father  is  not  like.  He  hates  well 
enough  and  perhaps  loves  too,  but  he  Is  not  honest  enough.  It 
was  from  my  father  I  learnt  not  to  marry  for  money  nor  to 
tolerate  any  one  who  did,  and  he  never  would  advise  any  one  to 
do  so,  or  fail  to  speak  with  contempt  of  those  who  did.  Shirley 
is  much  more  interesting  than  Jane  Eyre,  who  never  interests  you 
at  all  until  she  has  something  to  suffer.  All  through  this  last 
novel  there  Is  so  much  more  life  and  stir  that  it  leaves  you  far 
more  to  remember  than  the  other.  Did  you  go  to  London  about 
this  too !  What  for  ?  I  see  by  a  letter  of  yours  to  Mr.  Dixon 
that  you  have  been.  I  wanted  to  contradict  some  of  your  opinions, 
now  I  can't.  As  to  when  I  'm  coming  home,  you  may  well  ask. 
I  have  wished  for  fifteen  years  to  begin  to  earn  my  own  living ; 
last  April  I  began  to  try — it  Is  too  soon  to  say  yet  with  what 
success.  I  am  woefully  ignorant,  terribly  wanting  in  tact,  and 
obstinately  lazy,  and  almost  too  old  to  mend.  Luckily  there  Is 
no  other  dance  for  me,  so  I  must  work.  Ellen  takes  to  it  kindlyj 
it  gratifies  a  deep  ardent  wish  of  hers  as  of  mine,  and  she  is 
habitually  industrious.  For  her,  ten  years  younger,  our  shop  will  be 
a  blessing.  She  may  possibly  secure  an  independence,  and  skill 
to  keep  It  and  use  it,  before  the  prime  of  life  is  past  As  to  my 
writings,  you  may  as  well  ask  the  Fates  about  that  too.  I  can 
give  you  no  information,  I  write  a  page  now  and  then.  I  never 
forget  or  get  strange  to  what  I  have  written.  When  I  read  it  over 
it  looks  very  interesting.  MARY  TAYLOR. 


154  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  457 

TO  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

WELLINGTON,  N.Z. 

MY  DEAR  MISS  BRONTE, — I  shall  tell  you  everything  I  can  think 
of,  since  you  said  in  one  of  your  letters  to  Pag  that  you  wished  me 
to  write  to  you.     I  have  been  here  a  year.     It  seems  a  much  shorter 
time,  and  yet  I  have  thought  more  and  done  more  than  I  ever  did 
in  my  life  before.     When  we  arrived,  Henry  and  I  were  in  such 
a  hurry  to  leave  the  ship  that  we  didn't  wait  to  be  fetched,  but 
got  into  the  first  boat  that  came  alongside.     When  we  landed  we 
inquired  where  Waring  lived,  but  hadn't  walked  far  before  we 
met  him.     I  had  never  seen  him  before,  but  he  guessed  we  were 
the  cousins  he  expected,  so  caught  us  and  took  us  along  with 
him.     Mary  soon  joined  us,  and  we  went  home  together.     At  first 
I  thought  Mary  was  not  the  least  altered,  but  when  I  had  seen 
her  for  about  a  week  I  thought  she  looked  rather  older.     The  first 
night  Mary  and  I  sat  up  till  2  A.M.  talking.     Next  day  we  went 
to  tea  to  the  Knoxes,  Waring's  new  relations  ;  you  have  no  doubt 
heard  of  them.     The  Doctor  is  an  idle  fool  and  his  wife  not  very 
much  better ;  he  might  earn  his  living  if  he  would,  but  he  won't. 
In  a  few  days  we  began  to  talk  about  doing  something ;  it  seemed 
the  only  thing  for  Henry  to  do  was  to  buy  sheep  and  go  and 
keep  them  in  the  country.     He  went  to  look  at  Rangitike,  a  large 
district  bought  of  the  natives,  it  is  somewhere  on  the  West  Coast 
between  here  and  Taranaki ;  he  came  back  and  said  it  was  too 
wet  for  sheep,  but  he  thought  he  would  have  to  go  there.     In 
November  he  went  to  Sydney  to  buy  the  sheep,  but  he  found 
freights  too  high  there,  so  he  settled  to  wait  a  bit;  and  he  is  wait- 
ing yet,  that  is,  he  hasn't  come  back,  and  we  haven't  heard  a  word 
of  or  from  him  for  five  months.     He  must  have  gone  into  the 
bush,  but  if  he  has  he  ought  to  have  told  us.     I  wish  he  'd  come 
back.     Mary  and  I  settled  we  would  do  something  together,  and 
vtfe  talked  for  a  fortnight  before  we   decided  whether  we  would 
ha\^e  a  school  or  shop ;  it  ended  in  favour  of  the  shop.     Waring 
thought  we  had  better  be  quiet,  and  I  believe  he  still  thinks  we 
are  doii^g  it  for  amusement ;  but  he  never  refuses  to  help  us.     He 
is  teaching  us  book-keeping,  and  he  buys  things  for  us  now  and 
then.     Mar^  gets  as  fierce  as  a  dragon  and  goes  to  all  the  whole- 
sale stores  afljd  looks  at  things,  gets  patterns,  samples,  etc.,  and 
asks  prices,  arr'd  then  comes  home,  and  we  talk  it  over ;  and  then 


LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH  155 

she  goes  again  and  buys  what  we  want.  She  says  the  people  are 
always  civil  to  her.  Our  keeping  shop  astonishes  everybody 
here  ;  I  believe  they  think  we  do  it  for  fun.  Some  think  we  shall 
make  nothing  of  it,  or  that  we  shall  get  tired ;  and  all  laugh  at 
us.  Before  I  left  home  I  used  to  be  afraid  of  being  laughed  at, 
but  now  it  has  very  little  effect  upon  me. 

Mary  and  I  are  settled  together  now :  I  can't  do  without  Mary 
and  she  couldn't  get  on  by  herself.  I  built  the  house  we  live  in, 
and  we  made  the  plan  ourselves,  so  it  suits  us.  We  take  It  in 
turns  to  serve  in  the  shop,  and  keep  the  accounts,  and  do  the 
housework — I  mean,  Mary  takes  the  shop  for  a  week  and  I  the 
kitchen,  and  then  we  change.  I  think  we  shall  do  very  well  if  no 
more  severe  earthquakes  come,  and  if  we  can  prevent  fire.  When 
a  wooden  house  takes  fire  it  doesn't  stop ;  and  we  have  got  an  oil 
cask  about  as  high  as  I  am,  that  would  help  it.  If  some  sparks 
go  out  at  the  chimney-top  the  shingles  are  in  danger.  The  last 
earthquake  but  one  about  a  fortnight  ago  threw  down  two 
medicine  bottles  that  were  standing  on  the  table  and  made  other 
things  jingle,  but  did  no  damage.  If  we  have  nothing  worse  than 
that  I  don't  care,  but  I  don't  want  the  chimney  to  come  down — it 
would  cost  £10  to  build  it  up  again,  Mary  is  making  me  stop 
because  it  is  nearly  9  P.M.  and  we  are  going  to  Waring's  to  supper. 
Good-bye.— Yours  truly,  ELLEN  TAYLOR. 


Letter  458 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

WELLINGTON,  August  15^,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Last  Monday  we  stopped  working  to  open  a 
box  and  read  letters.  Your  pretty  thing,  what  ever  is  the  name 
of  it  ?  came  almost  tjie  first,  and  fine  amusement  it  was  to  open 
it.  What  veritable  old  maids  you  and  Charlotte  must  be  grown 
If  you  really  use  such  a  thing.  Ellen  and  I  pulled  out  all  the 
things,  one  after  another,  and  disputed  for  them.  The  staylace 
was  particularly  amusing !  I  have  not  seen  such  a  thing  this  five 
years.  But  the  best  was  the  garters.  I  have  had  almost  a  daily 
lecture  from  Ellen  because  my  stockings  wrinkled  owing  to  my 
having  been  reduced  to  two  bits  of  tape  for  the  last  six  months, 
and  being  too  stingy  to  buy  any  more  and  too  idle  to  knit  them. 
Ellen  says  you  might  have  known. 


156  THE  BRONTES 

Your  letter  is  the  most  cheerful  I  have  had  from  you.  I 
suppose  *  Charlotte '  was  or  had  been  with  you ;  or  was  going  to 
be.  It  contained  more  news,  too,  than  any  I  have  received  by  this 
ship.  Ann's  marriage  does  not  seem  to  have  made  you  more 
uncomfortable — perhaps  the  reverse.  Was  this  the  news  you 
hinted  at  in  your  last  but  which  you  would  not  tell  me  ?  I  had 
guessed  it  was  your  own  marriage  that  was  going  to  be !  I  had 
imagined,  too,  that  Miss  Gorham  must  be  the  daughter  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Gorham  who  is  having  such  a  quarrel  with  the  Bishop 
of  Exeter.  Which  of  course  I  highly  approve  of,  though  I  don't 
know  what  it 's  all  about.  I  wish  you  or  Charlotte  would  give  me 
some  particulars  of  her  last  London  visit.  The  account  of  the 
first  one  was  most  interesting. 

Ellen  is  roasting  her  toes  and  discussing  how  little  shell  be 
content  with.  It  seems  to  be  about  £"200  a  year,  though  it  is 
doubtful  if  this  will  do.  It  is  blowing  cold  and  rain  and  hail — 
just  to  make  a  fire  comfortable,  She  (Ellen)  chatters  like  a  pie, 
and  the  theme  is  how  much  we  must  have  before  we  go  home 
again.  We  think  it  possible  to  buy  and  send  goods  out  here 
after  four  or  five  years'  experience  in  shop-keeping. 

You  and  Charlotte  ought  to  be  on  the  other  side  the  table  to 
hear  all  the  nonsense.  For  the  last  month  or  two  Ellen  has  been 
very  well  and  I  too.  Before  that  time  she  was  often  very  poorly 
and  I  had  repeatedly  tic  douloureux  in  the  face.  We  were 
frightened,  shy,  and  anxious.  Neither  the  shyness  nor  the 
anxiety  are  at  an  end,  as  we  very  well  know,  but  we  know  what 
we  have  to  contend  with  and  can  never  feel  so  thick  a  mist  round 
us  as  there  was  when  we  first  began.  I  wish  I  could  give  you 
some  account  of  the  amount  of  our  success,  but  the  time  is  as  yet 
too  short  to  pronounce.  The  gist  of  the  matter  is  that  John  and 
Joe  have  lent  me  £100  and  given  me  £300.  Ellen's  means  are 
rather  less. 

Besides  nonsense  we  talk  over  other  things  that  I  never  could 
talk  about  before  she  came.  Some  of  them  had  got  to  look  so 
strange  I  used  to  think  sometimes  I  had  dreamt  them.  Char- 
lotte's books  were  of  this  kind.  Politics  were  another  thing 
where  I  had  all  the  interest  to  myself,  and  a  number  of  opinions 
of  my  own  I  had  got  so  used  to  keep  to  myself  that  at  last  I 
thought  one  side  of  my  head  filled  with  crazy  stuff. 

Is  it  that  your  brothers  won't  give  you  money  that  prevents 
you  coming  out  ?  You  should  plague  them  till  they  are  glad  to 


LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH  157 

be  rid  of  you.  But  I  fancy  you  write  more  hopefully  than  you 
did  before.  And  yet  you  seem  almost  turned  out  of  doors  by  the 
new  arrangement  In  fact,  there  is  only  your  mother  that  really 
belongs  to  you  in  it. 

Joe's  admiration  of  Miss  Ringrose  is  amusing — if  it  is  so.  Is 
she  German?  or  half -German?  Have  you  seen  or  heard  of 
Halle's  chamber  concerts  ?  His  father  was  my  music  master  and 
a  genius.  His  mother  is  living  with  him.  I  have  some  notion 
that  you  are  near  them,  though  I  believe  in  point  of  fact  you  are 
as  far  off  as  I  am.  There  was  a  girl  of  14  to  20  whom  I  should 
much  like  to  hear  of. 

For  some  reason — or  rather  for  no  reason — I  think  my  hopes 
this  afternoon  are  peculiarly  vivid  about  coming  home  again.  All 
the  news  by  last  vessel  has  been  good  and  reacting — the  letters 
have  brought  it  all  vividly  before  me.  Keep  yourself  well  and 
happy,  you  and  Charlotte,  till  I  come,  and  above  all  don't  turn 
sulky.  We  shall  meet  again  yet 

You  have  both  suffered,  Charlotte  especially.  I  am  older  in 
that  way  too,  but  there  is  sweet  in  the  orange  yet,  at  least  I 
think  so.  MARY  TAYLOR. 

Letter  459 

TO   MISS  BRONTE 

WELLINGTON,  N.Z. 

DEAR  CHARLOTTE, — I  began  a  letter  to  you  one  bitter  cold 
evening  last  week,  but  it  turned  out  such  a  sad  one  that  I  have 
left  it  and  begun  again.  I  am  sitting  all  alone  in  my  own  house, 
or  rather  what  is  to  be  mine  when  I  've  paid  for  it.  I  bought  it 
of  Henry,  when  Ellen  died,  shop  and  all,  and  carry  on  by  myself! 
I  have  made  up  my  mind  not  to  get  any  assistance  ;  I  have  not 
too  much  work,  and  the  annoyance  of  having  an  unsuitable  com- 
panion was  too  great  to  put  up  with  without  necessity.  I  find 
now  that  it  was  Ellen  that  made  me  so  busy,  and  without  her  to 
nurse  I  have  plenty  of  time,  I  have  begun  to  keep  the  house 
very  tidy ;  it  makes  it  less  desolate,  I  take  great  interest  In  my 
trade — as  much  as  I  could  do  in  anything  that  was  not  all 
pleasure.  But  the  best  part  of  my  life  is  the  excitement  of 
arrivals  from  England.  Reading  all  the  news,  written  and 
printed,  is  like  living  another  life  separate  from  this  one.  The  old 
letters  are  strange,  very,  when  I  begin  to  read  them,  but  quite 


158  THE  BRONTES 

familiar  notwithstanding.  So  are  all  the  books  and  newspapers 
though  I  never  see  a  human  being  to  whom  it  would  ever  occur 
to  me  to  mention  anything  I  read  in  them.  I  see  your  nom  de 
guerre  in  them  sometimes.  I  saw  a  criticism  on  the  preface  to 
the  second  edition  of  Wuthering  Heights.  I  saw  it  among  the 
notables  who  attended  Thackeray's  lectures.  I  have  seen  it 
somehow  connected  with  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth.  Did  he  want  to 
marry  you  or  only  to  lionise  you  ?  Or  was  it  somebody  else  ? 

Your  life  in  London  is  a  '  new  country  *  to  me  which  I  cannot 
even  picture  to  myself.  You  seem  to  like  it — at  least  some 
things  in  it,  and  yet  your  late  letters  to  Mrs.  Joe  Taylor  talk  of  low 
spirits  and  illness.  'What's  the  matter  with  you  now?'  as  my 
mother  used  to  say,  as  if  it  were  the  twentieth  time  in  a  fortnight 
It  is  really  melancholy  that  now,  in  the  prime  of  life,  in  the  flush 
of  your  hard-earned  prosperity,  you  can't  be  well !  Did  not  Miss 
Martineau  improve  you?  If  she  did,  why  not  try  her  and  her 
plan  again  ?  But  I  suppose  if  you  had  hope  and  energy  to  try, 
you  would  be  well.  Well,  it  Js  nearly  dark,  and  you  will  surely 
be  well  when  you  read  this,  so  what's  the  use  of  writing?  I 
should  like  well  to  have  some  details  of  your  life,  but  how  can 
I  hope  for  it?  I  have  often  tried  to  give  you  a  picture  of  mine, 
but  I  have  not  the  skill.  I  get  a  heap  of  details,  most  paltry  in 
themselves  and  not  enough  to  give  you  an  idea  of  the  whole.  O 
for  one  hour's  talk  !  You  are  getting  too  far  off  and  beginning  to 
look  strange  to  me.  Do  you  look  as  you  used  to  do,  I  wonder? 
What  do  you  and  Ellen  Nussey  talk  about  when  you  meet? 
There!  it's  dark. 

Sunday  night. — I  have  let  the  vessel  go  that  was  to  take 
this.  As  there  (are)  others  going  soon  I  did  not  much  care. 
I  am  in  the  height  of  cogitation  whether  to  send  for  some  worsted 
stockings,  etc.  They  will  come  next  year  at  this  time,  and 
who  can  tell  what  I  shall  want  then,  or  shall  be  doing!  Yet 
hitherto  we  have  sent  such  orders  and  have  guessed  or  known 
pretty  well  what  we  should  want  I  have  just  been  looking  over 
a  list  four  pages  long  in  Ellen's  handwriting.  These  things  ought 
to  come  by  the  next  vessel  or  part  of  them  at  least  Then,  tired 
of  that,  I  began  to  read  some  pages  of  '  my  book/  intending  to 
write  some  more,  but  went  on  reading  for  pleasure.  I  often  do 
this  and  find  it  very  interesting  indeed.  It  does  not  get  on  fast 
tho'.  I  have  written  about  one  volume  and  a  half.  It's  full 
of  music,  poverty,  disputing,  politics,  and  original  views  of  life.  I 


LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH  159 

can't  for  the  life  of  me  bring  the  lover  into  it,  nor  tell  what  he's  to 
do  when  he  comes.  Of  the  men  generally  I  can  never  tell  what 
they'll  do  next.  The  women  I  understand  pretty  well,  and  rare 
tracasserie  there  is  among  them ;  they  are  perfectly  feminine  in 
that  respect  at  least. 

I  am  just  now  in  a  state  of  famine.  No  books  and  no  news 
from  England  for  this  two  months.  I  am  thinking  of  visiting 
a  circulating  library  from  sheer  dulness.  If  I  had  more  time 
I  should  get  melancholy.  No  one  can  prize  activity  more  than 
I  do,  little  interest  though  there  is  in  it.  I  never  long  am  without 
it  but  a  gloom  comes  over  me.  The  cloud  seems  to  be  always 
there  behind  me,  and  never  quite  out  of  sight  but  when  I  keep  on 
at  a  good  rate.  Fortunately  the  more  I  work  the  better  I  like  it. 
I  shall  take  to  scrubbing  the  floor  before  it 's  dirty,  and  polishing 
pans  on  the  outside  in  my  old  age.  It  is  the  only  thing  that  gives 
me  an  appetite  for  dinner. 

I  suppose  if  the  vessel  coming  from  England  is  not  lost  I  shall 
soon  be  too  busy  to  write  if  the  last  vessel  were  sailing  that  ever 
was  to  go.  So  take  this  in  anticipation,  as  I  can't  write  an  answer 
to  your  letters  until  they  get  too  old  to  answer.  PAG. 

Give  my  love  to  Ellen  Nussey. 


160  THE  BRONTES 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

TWO  VISITS  TO   THE   ENGLISH   LAKES 

THE  English  Lakes  have  many  happy  literary  associations, 
and  among  the  long  list  of  names  which  that  delightful 
district  recalls  one  must  never  neglect  to  include  that  of 
Charlotte  Bronte.  She  paid  two  visits  there  in  this  year, 
1850,  the  first  to  Sir  James  Kay-Shuttleworth,  the  second 
to  Harriet  Martineau. 

Letter  460 

TO  THE  REV.   P.   BRONTE 

THE  BRIERY,  WINDERMERE, 
August  igth,  1850. 

DEAR  PAPA, — I  reached  this  place  yesterday  evening  at  eight 
o'clock,  after  a  safe  though  rather  tedious  journey.  I  had  to 
change  carriages  three  times  and  to  wait  an  hour  and  a  half  at 
Lancaster.  Sir  James  came  to  meet  me  at  the  station  ;  both  he 
and  Lady  Shuttleworth  gave  me  a  very  kind  reception.  This 
place  is  exquisitely  beautiful,  though  the  weather  is  cloudy,  misty, 
and  stormy ;  but  the  sun  bursts  out  occasionally  and  shows  the 
hills  and  the  lake,  Mrs.  Gaskell  is  coming  here  this  evening,  and 
one  or  two  other  people.  Miss  Martineau,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I 
shall  not  see,  as  she  is  already  gone  from  home  for  the  autumn. 

Be  kind  enough  to  write  by  return  of  post  and  tell  me  how  you 
are  getting  on  and  how  you  are.     Give  my  kind  regards  to  Tabby 
.  and    Martha,    and — Believe   me,   dear    papa,  your    affectionate 
daughter,  C.  BRONTE. 

This  was  Miss  Bronte's  first  meeting  with  her  future 
biographer.  It  is  interesting  to  record  Mrs.  Gaskell's 
impression  as  conveyed  to  a  friend  at  the  time  and  repeated 
in  the  Life, 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     161 

Letter  461 

MRS.  GASKELL  TO  A   FRIEND1 

Dark  when  I  got  to  Windermere  station  ;  a  drive  along  the 
level  road  to  Low-wood  ;  then  a  stoppage  at  a  pretty  house,  and 
then  a  pretty  drawing-room,  in  which  were  Sir  James  and  Lady 
Kay-Shuttleworth,  and  a  little  lady  in  a  black  silk  gown,  whom 
I  could  not  see  at  first  for  the  dazzle  in  the  room ;  she  came  up 
and  shook  hands  with  me  at  once.  I  went  up  to  unbonnet,  etc.; 
came  down  to  tea.  The  little  lady  worked  away  and  hardly 
spoke,  but  I  had  time  for  a  good  look  at  her.  She  is  (as  she 
calls  herself)  undeveloped^  thin,  and  more  than  half  a  head  shorter 
than  I  am  ;  soft  brown  hair,  not  very  dark  ;  eyes  (very  good  and 
expressive,  looking  straight  and  open  at  you)  of  the  same  colour 
as  her  hair ;  a  large  mouth ;  the  forehead  square,  broad,  and 
rather  overhanging.  She  has  a  very  sweet  voice  ;  rather  hesitates 
in  choosing  her  expressions,  but  when  chosen  they  seem  without 
an  effort  admirable,  and  just  befitting  the  occasion;  there  Is 
nothing  overstrained,  but  perfectly  simple.  .  .  .  After  breakfast 
we  four  went  out  on  the  lake,  and  Miss  Bronte  agreed  with  me 
in  liking  Mr.  Newman's  Soul,  and  in  liking  Modern  Painters,  and 
the  idea  of  the  Seven  Lamps ;  and  she  told  me  about  Father 
Newman's  lectures  at  the  Oratory  in  a  very  quiet,  concise,  graphic 

way.  .  .  .  She  is  more  like  Miss than  any  one  in  her  ways —  if 

you  can  fancy  Miss to  have  gone  through  suffering  enough  to 

have  taken  out  every  spark  of  merriment,  and  to  be  shy  and  silent 
from  the  habit  of  extreme,  intense  solitude.  Such  a  life  as  Miss 

Bronte's  I  have  never  heard  of  before.  described  her  home 

to  me  as  in  a  village  of  grey  stone  houses,  perched  up  on  the 
north  side  of  a  bleak  moor,  looking  over  sweeps  of  bleak  moors, 
etc.,  etc. 

We  were  only  three  days  together,  the  greater  part  of  which 
was  spent  in  driving  about,  in  order  to  show  Miss  Bronte  the 
Westmoreland  scenery,  as  she  had  never  been  there  before.  We 
were  both  included  in  an  invitation  to  drink  tea  quietly  at  Fox 
How  ;  and  then  I  saw  how  severely  her  nerves  were  taxed  by 
the  effort  of  going  amongst  strangers.  We  knew  beforehand  that 
*he  number  of  the  party  would  not  exceed  twelve;  but  she  suffered 

1  From  the  Haworth  edition  of  the  Life,  p.  470. 
VOL.  II.  L 


162  THE  BRONTES 

the  whole  day  from  an  acute  headache  brought  on  by  apprehension 
of  the  evening. 

Briery  Close  was  situated  high  above  Low-wood,  and  of  course 
commanded  an  extensive  view  and  wide  horizon.  I  was  struck 
by  Miss  Bronte's  careful  examination  of  the  shape  of  the  clouds 
and  the  signs  of  the  heavens,  in  which  she  read,  as  from  a  book, 
what  the  coming  weather  would  be.  I  told  her  that  I  saw  she 
must  have  a  view  equal  in  extent  at  her  own  home.  She  said 
that  I  was  right,  but  that  the  character  of  the  prospect  from 
Haworth  was  very  different;  that  I  had  no  idea  what  a  com- 
panion the  sky  became  to  any  one  living  in  solitude — more  than 
any  inanimate  object  on  earth — more  than  the  moors  themselves. 


Letter  462 

TO  ELLEN    NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  August  26tk9  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — You  said  I  should  stay  longer  than  a  week  in 
Westmoreland  ;  you  ought  by  this  time  to  know  me  better.  Is  it 
my  habit  to  keep  dawdling  at  a  place  long  after  the  time  I  first 
fixed  on  for  departing  ?  I  have  got  home,  and  I  am  thankful  to 
say  papa  seems,  to  say  the  least,  no  worse  than  when  I  left  him, 
yet  I  wish  he  were  stronger.  My  visit  passed  off  very  well ;  I  am 
very  glad  I  went.  The  scenery  is,  of  course,  grand  ;  could  I  have 
wandered  about  amongst  those  hills  alone,  I  could  have  drank  in 
all  their  beauty ;  even  in  a  carnage  with  company,  it  was  very 
well.  If  I  could  only  have  dropped  unseen  out  of  the  carriage 
and  gone  away  by  myself  in  amongst  those  grand  hills  and  sweet 
dales,  I  should  have  drank  in  the  full  power  of  this  glorious 
scenery.  In  company  this  can  hardly  be.  Sometimes,  while  Sir 
James  was  warning  me  against  the  faults  of  the  artist  class,  all  the 
while  vagrant  artist  instincts  were  busy  in  the  mind  of  his  listener. 
Sir  James  was  all  the  while  as  kind  and  friendly  as  he  could  be  : 
he  is  in  much  better  health.  Lady  Shuttleworth  never  got  out, 
being  confined  to  the  house  with  a  cold,  but  fortunately  there  was 
Mrs.  Gaskell,  the  authoress  of  Mary  Barton,  who  came  to  the 
Briery  the  day  after  me.  I  was  truly  glad  of  her  companionship. 
She  is  a  woman  of  the  most  genuine  talent,  of  cheerful,  pleasing, 
and  cordial  manners,  and,  I  believe,  of  a  kind  and  good  heart 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     163 

Miss  Martineau  was  from  home  ;  she  always  leaves  her  house  at 
Ambleside  during  the  Lake  season,  to  avoid  the  influx  of  visitors 
to  which  she  would  otherwise  be  subject. 

I  went  out  to  spend  the  evening  once  at  Fox  How,  the  residence 
of  Dr.  Arnold's  widow.  There  was  a  considerable  party,  amongst 
the  rest  the  son  and  daughter  of  the  Chevalier  Bunsen,  the 
Prussian  Ambassador,  etc.,  etc. 

I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  about  a  week  before  I  went  to  West- 
moreland there  came  an  invitation  to  Harden  Grange,  Mr.  Bus- 
feild  Ferrand  5s  place,  which  I  declined  ;  two  or  three  days  after, 
a  large  party  made  their  appearance  here,  consisting  of  Mrs. 
Ferrand  and  sundry  other  ladies  and  two  gentlemen,  one  tall, 
stately,  black-haired  and  whiskered,  who  turned  out  to  be  Lord 
John  Manners,  the  other  not  so  distinguished-looking,  shy  and  a 
little  queer,  who  was  Mr.  Smythe,  the  son  of  Lord  Strangford, 
I  found  Mrs.  Ferrand  a  true  lady  in  manners  and  appearance. 
She  is  the  sister  or  daughter,  I  forget  which,  of  Lord  Blantyre, 
very  gentle  and  unassuming,  not  so  pretty  as  Lady  Shuttleworth, 
but  I  like  her  better.  Lord  John  Manners  brought  in  his  hand 
two  brace  of  grouse  for  papa,  which  was  a  well-timed  present; 
a  day  or  two  before,  papa  had  been  wishing  for  some. — Yours 
faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  463 

TO   MRS.   GASKELL 

August  27 'tht  1850. 

Papa  and  I  have  just  had  tea  ;  he  is  sitting  quietly  in  his  room, 
and  I  in  mine ;  *  storms  of  rain '  are  sweeping  over  the  garden 
and  churchyard :  as  to  the  moors,  they  are  hidden  in  thick  fog. 
Though  alone  I  am  not  unhappy  ;  I  have  a  thousand  things  to  be 
thankful  for,  and,  amongst  the  rest,  that  this  morning  I  received 
a  letter  from  you,  and  that  this  evening  I  have  the  privilege  of 
answering  it. 

I  do  not  know ,  the  Life  of  Sydney  Taylor ; x  whenever  I  have 
the  opportunity  I  will  get  it.  The  little  French  book  you  mention 
shall  also  take  its  place  on  the  list  of  books  to  be  procured  as 
soon  as  possible.  It  treats  a  subject  interesting  to  all  women — 

3  Selections  from  the  Writings  of  f.  Sydney  Taylor,  with  a  Brief  Sketch  of  his  Life. 
London,  1843.  John  Sydney  Taylor  (1795-1841)  was  a  London  journalist  of  Irish,  origin. 


164  THE  BHONTfiS 

perhaps  more  especially  to  single  women,  though,  indeed,  mothers 
like  you  study  it  for  the  sake  of  their  daughters.  The  West-* 
minster  Review  is  not  a  periodical  I  see  regularly,  but  some  time 
since  I  got  hold  of  a  number — for  last  January,  I  think — in  which 
there  was  an  article  entitled  'Woman's  Mission'  (the  phrase  is 
hackneyed),  containing  a  great  deal  that  seemed  to  me  just  and 
sensible.  Men  begin  to  regard  the  position  of  woman  in  another 
light  than  they  used  to  do ;  and  a  few  men,  whose  sympathies  are 
fine  and  whose  sense  of  justice  is  strong,  think  and  speak  of  it 
with  a  candour  that  commands  my  admiration.  They  say,  how- 
ever— and,  to  an  extent,  truly — that  the  amelioration  of  our 
condition  depends  on  ourselves.  Certainly  there  are  evils  which 
our  own  efforts  will  best  reach ;  but  as  certainly  there  are  other 
evils — deep-rooted  in  the  foundations  of  the  social  system — which 
no  efforts  of  ours  can  touch ;  of  which  we  cannot  complain  ;  of 
which  it  is  advisable  not  too  often  to  think. 

I  have  read  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam?-  or  rather  part  of  it ;  I 
closed  the  book  when  I  had  got  about  half-way.  It  is  beautiful ; 
It  is  mournful ;  it  is  monotonous.  Many  of  the  feelings  expressed 
bear,  in  their  utterance,  the  stamp  of  truth  ;  yet,  if  Arthur  Hallam 
had  been  somewhat  nearer  Alfred  Tennyson — his  brother  instead 
of  his  friend — I  should  have  distrusted  this  rhymed,  and  measured, 
and  printed  monument  of  grief.  What  change  the  lapse  of  years 
may  work  I  do  not  know ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  bitter  sorrow, 
while  recent,  does  not  flow  out  in  verse. 

I  promised  to  send  you  Wordsworth's  Prelude?  and,  accordingly, 
despatch  it  by  this  post ;  the  other  little  volume  shall  follow  in  a 
day  or  two.  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  from  you  whenever  you  have 
time  to  write  to  me,  but  you  are  never  on  any  account  to  do  this 
except  when  inclination  prompts  and  leisure  permits.  I  should  never 
thank  you  for  a  letter  which  you  had  felt  it  a  task  to  write. 

After  the  meeting  at  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth's,  Miss 
Bronte  sent  Mrs.  Gaskell  the  volume  of  poems  by  Currer, 
Ellis,  and  Acton  BelL 

1  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam  was  published  in  1850. 

2  The  Prelude;  or,  Growth,  of  a  Pee?  s  Mind:  an  Autobiographical  Poem ,  by  William 
Wordsworth,  was  published,  after  his  death  in  1850,  by  Edward  Moxon,  Dover  Street, 
London. 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     165 

Letter  464 

TO   MRS.   GASKELL 

[Undated.] 

The  little  book  of  rhymes  was  sent  by  way  of  fulfilling  a  rashly 
made  promise;  and  the  promise  was  made  to  prevent  you  from 
throwing  away  four  shillings  in  an  injudicious  purchase.  I  do 
not  like  my  own  share  of  the  work,  nor  care  that  it  should  be 
read  :  Ellis  Bell's  I  think  good  and  vigorous,  and  Acton's  have 
the  merit  of  truth  and  simplicity.  Mine  are  chiefly  juvenile 
productions,  the  restless  effervescence  of  a  mind  that  would  not 
be  still.  In  those  days  the  sea  too  often  'wrought  and  was 
tempestuous/  and  weed,  sand,  shingle — all  turned  up  in  the 
tumult.  This  image  is  much  too  magniloquent  for  the  subject, 
but  you  will  pardon  it. 

Letter  465 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  September  znd,  '50. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Poor  Mrs.  Atkinson  it  seems  is  gone;  I  saw 
her  death  in  the  papers  ;  it  is  another  lesson  on  the  nature  of  life, 
on  its  strange  brevity  and,  in  many  instances,  apparent  futility. 
I  should  think  her  child,  conceived  and  fostered  in  the  arms  of 
death,  born  on  the  very  brink  of  its  mother's  grave,  cannot 
live,  and  I  trust  it  will  not :  it  could  only  be  reared  to  die ;  the 
seeds  of  disease  must  be  thickly  sown  in  its  constitution.  I 
wonder  if  Mrs.  Atkinson  suffered  much  at  last,  or  if  she  died 
peacefully. 

Joe  Taylor  came  here  on  Saturday,  but  Tom  Dixon,  who  was  to 
have  accompanied  him,  was  prevented  from  executing  his  inten- 
tion. I  regretted  his  absence,  for  I  by  no  means  coveted  the  long 
tete-a-t$te  with  Joe  Taylor.  However,  it  passed  off  pretty  well. 
He  is  satisfied  now  with  his  own  prospects,  which  makes  him,  on 
the  surface,  satisfied  with  other  things  ;  he  spoke  of  Amelia  with 
content  and  approbation.  He  looks  forward  to  marriage  as  a 
sort  of  harbour  where  he  is  to  lay  up  his  now  somewhat  battered 
vessel  in  quiet  moorings.  He  has  seen  all  he  wants  to  see  of 
life,  now  he  is  prepared  to  settle.  I  listened  to  all  with  equa- 


166  THE  BRONTES 

nlmity  and  cheerfulness,  not  assumed  but  real,  for  papa  is  now 
somewhat  better,  his  appetite  and  spirits  are  improved,  and  that 
eases  my  mind  of  cankering  anxiety.  My  own  health,  too,  is  I 
think  really  benefited  by  the  late  changes  of  air  and  scene.  I 
fancy,  at  any  rate,  that  I  feel  stronger.  Still  I  mused,  in  my  own 
way,  on  Joe  Taylor's  character,  its  depth  and  scope  I  believe  are 
ascertained. 

I  saw  the  governess  at  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth's,  she  looked  a  little 
better  and  more  cheerful.  She  was  almost  as  pleased  to  see  me  as 
if  we  had  been  related,  and  when  I  bid  her  good-bye,  expressed  an 
earnest  hope  that  I  would  soon  come  again.  The  children  seem 
fond  of  her,  and  on  the  whole  obedient:  two  great  alleviations  of 
the  inevitable  evils  of  her  position. 

Cheer  up,  dear  Nell,  and  try  not  to  stagnate,  or  when  you 
cannot  help  it,  and  when  your  heart  is  constricted  and  oppressed, 
remember  what  life  is  and  must  be  to  all — some  moments  of 
sunshine  alternating  with  many  of  overclouded  and  often  tempest- 
uous darkness.  Humanity  cannot  escape  its  fate,  which  is  to 
drink  a  mixed  cup.  Let  us  believe  that  the  gall  and  the  vinegar 
are  salutary. 

I  return  Amelia's  letter.  She  has  written  to  me. — Yours 
faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  466 

TO  JAMES  TAYLOR 

September  $tk,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — The  reappearance  of  the  Athenaum  is  very 
acceptable,  not  merely  for  its  own  sake — though  I  esteem  the 
opportunity  of  its  perusal  a  privilege — but  because  it  comes  from 
Cornhill  and,  as  a  weekly  token  of  the  remembrance  of  friends, 
cheers  and  gives  pleasure.  I  only  fear  that  its  regular  trans- 
mission may  become  a  task  to  you ;  in  that  case,  discontinue  it 
at  once. 

I  did  indeed  enjoy  my  trip  to  Scotland,  and  yet  I  saw  little  of 
the  face  of  the  country,  nothing  of  its  grander  or  finer  scenic 
features;  but  Edinburgh,  Melrose,  Abbotsford,  these  three  in 
themselves  sufficed  to  stir  feelings  of  such  deep  interest  and 
admiration  that,  neither  at  the  time  did  I  regret,  nor  have  I  since 
regretted,  the  want  of  wider  space  to  diffuse  the  sense  of  enjoy- 
ment. There  was  room  and  variety  enough  to  be  very  happy, 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES    167 

and  '  enough/  the  proverb  says,  f  is  as  good  as  a  feast.3  The 
Queen  was  right  indeed  to  climb  Arthur  Seat  with  her  husband 
and  children ;  I  shall  not  soon  forget  how  I  felt,  when,  having 
reached  its  summit,  we  all  sat  down  and  looked  over  the  city, 
towards  the  sea  and  Leith,  and  the  Pentland  Hills.  No  doubt 
you  are  proud  of  being  a  native  of  Scotland,  proud  of  your 
country,  her  capital,  her  children,  and  her  literature.  You  cannot 
be  blamed. 

The  article  in  the  Palladium  is  one  of  those  notices  over  which 
an  author  rejoices  with  trembling.  He  rejoices  to  find  his  work 
finely,  fully,  fervently  appreciated,  and  trembles  under  the  respon- 
sibility such  appreciation  seems  to  devolve  upon  him.  I  am 
counselled  to  wait  and  watch,  D.V.,  I  will  do  so.  Yet  it  is 
harder  work  to  wait  with  the  hands  bound  and  the  observant  and 
reflective  faculties  at  their  silent  unseen  work,  than  to  labour 
mechanically, 

I  need  not  say  how  I  felt  the  remarks  on  Wuthering  Heights  j1 
they  woke  the  saddest  yet  most  grateful  feelings ;  they  are  true, 
they  are  discriminating ;  they  are  full  of  late  justice — but  it  is 
very  late — alas !  in  one  sense  too  late.  Of  this,  however,  and  of 
the  pang  of  regret  for  a  light  prematurely  extinguished,  it  is  not 
wise  to  speak  much.  Whoever  the  author  of  this  article  may  be, 
I  remain  his  debtor. 

Yet,  you  see,  even  here,  Shirley  is  disparaged  in  comparison 
with  Jane  Eyre,  and  yet  I  took  great  pains  with  Shirley.  I  did 
not  hurry ;  I  tried  to  do  my  best,  and  my  own  impression  was 
that  it  was  not  inferior  to  the  former  work  ;  indeed  I  had  bestowed 
on  it  more  time,  thought,  and  anxiety :  but  great  part  of  it  was 
written  under  the  shadow  of  impending  calamity,  and  the  last 
volume  I  cannot  deny  was  composed  in  the  eager,  restless  endeavour 
to  combat  mental  sufferings  that  were  scarcely  tolerable. 

You  sent  the  tragedy  of  Galileo  Galilei,  by  Samuel  Brown,  in 
one  of  the  Cornhill  parcels  ;  it  contained,  I  remember,  passages  of 
very  great  beauty.  Whenever  you  send  any  more  books  (but 
that  must  not  be  till  I  return  what  I  now  have)  I  should  be  glad 
if  you  would  include  amongst  them  the  Life  of  Dr.  Arnold.  Do 
you  know  also  the  Life  of  Sydney  Taylor  ?  I  am  not  familiar  even 
with  the  name,  but  it  has  been  recommended  to  me  as  a  work 

1  In  the  Palladium  of  September  1850  Mr.  Sydney  Dobell  declared  that  *  there 
were  passages  in  Wuthtring  Heights  of  which  any  novelist,  past  or  present,  might  he 
proud. ' 


168  THE  BRONTES 

meriting  perusal.     Of  course,  when  I  name  any  book,  it  is  always 
understood  that  it  should  be  quite  convenient  to  send  it. 

With  thanks  for  your  kind  letter,— I  am,  my  dear  sir,  yours 
very  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  467 

TO  W,  S.  WILLIAMS 

September  5//5,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  trust  your  suggestion  for  Miss  Kavanagh's 
benefit  will  have  all  success.  It  seems  to  me  truly  felicitous 
and  excellent,  and,  I  doubt  not,  she  will  think  so  too.  The  last 
class  of  female  character  will  be  difficult  to  manage  :  there  will  be 
nice  points  in  it — yet,  well  managed,  both  an  attractive  and  in- 
structive book  might  result  therefrom.  One  thing  may  be 
depended  upon  in  the  execution  of  this  plan.  Miss  Kavanagh 
will  commit  no  error,  either  of  taste,  judgment,  or  principle ;  and 
even  when  she  deals  with  the  feelings,  I  would  rather  follow  the 
calm  course  of  her  quiet  pen  than  the  flourishes  of  a  more  re- 
dundant one  where  there  is  not  strength  to  restrain  as  well  as 
ardour  to  impel. 

I  fear  I  seemed  to  you  to  speak  coolly  of  the  beauty  of  the 
Lake  scenery.  The  truth  is,  it  was,  as  scenery,  exquisite — far 
beyond  anything  I  saw  in  Scotland ;  but  it  did  not  give  me  half 
so  much  pleasure,  because  I  saw  it  under  less  congenial  auspices. 
Mr.  Smith  and  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth  are  two  different  people 
with  whom  to  travel.  I  need  say  nothing  of  the  former — you 
know  him.  The  latter  offers  me  his  friendship,  and  I  do  my  best 
to  be  grateful  for  the  gift ;  but  his  is  a  nature  with  which  it  is 
difficult  to  assimilate — and  where  there  is  no  assimilation,  how 
can  there  be  real  regard  ?  Nine  parts  out  of  ten  in  him  are 
utilitarian — the  tenth  is  artistic.  This  tithe  of  his  nature  seems  to 
me  at  war  with  all  the  rest — it  is  just  enough  to  incline  him  rest- 
lessly towards  the  artist  class,  and  far  too  little  to  make  him  one 
of  them.  The  consequent  inability  to  do  things  which  he  admiresy 
embitters  him  I  think — it  makes  him  doubt  perfections  and  dwell 
on  faults.  Then  his  notice  or  presence  scarcely  tend  to  set  one 
at  ease  or  make  one  happy:  he  is  worldly  and  formal.  But  I 
must  stop — have  I  already  said  too  much  ?  I  think  not,  for  you 
will  feel  it  is  said  in  confidence  and  will  not  repeat  it 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     169 

The  article  in  the  Palladium  is  indeed  such  as  to  atone  for  a 
hundred  unfavourable  or  imbecile  reviews.  I  have  expressed 
what  I  think  of  it  to  Mr.  Taylor,  who  kindly  wrote  me  a  letter  on 
the  subject.  I  thank  you  also  for  the  newspaper  notices,  and  for 
some  you  sent  me  a  few  weeks  ago. 

I  should  much  like  to  carry  out  your  suggestions  respecting  a 
reprint  of  Wuthering  Heights  and  Agnes  Grey  m  one  volume, 
with  a  prefatory  and  explanatory  notice  of  the  authors ;  but  the 
question  occurs,  Would  Newby  claim  it?  I  could  not  bear  to 
commit  it  to  any  other  hands  than  those  of  Mr.  Smith.  Wildfett 
Hall  it  hardly  appears  to  me  desirable  to  preserve.  The  choice 
of  subject  in  that  work  is  a  mistake :  it  was  too  little  consonant 
with  the  character,  tastes,  and  ideas  of  the  gentle,  retiring,  in- 
experienced writer.  She  wrote  it  under  a  strange,  conscientious, 
half-ascetic  notion  of  accomplishing  a  painful  penance  and  a 
severe  duty.  Blameless  in  deed  and  almost  in  thought,  there  was 
from  her  very  childhood  a  tinge  of  religious  melancholy  in  her 
mind.  This  I  ever  suspected,  and  I  have  found  amongst  her 
papers  mournful  proofs  that  such  was  the  case.  As  to  additional 
compositions,  I  think  there  would  be  none,  as  I  would  not  offer 
a  line  to  the  publication  of  which  my  sisters  themselves  would 
have  objected. 

I  must  conclude  or  I  shall  be  too  late  for  the  post. — Believe 
me,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  468 

TO  W.   S.  WILLIAMS 

September  i$tfi,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Mr.  Newby  undertook  first  to  print  350  copies 
of  Wuthering  Heights^  but  he  afterwards  declared  he  had  only 
printed  250.  I  doubt  whether  he  could  be  induced  to  return  the 
£$o  without  a  good  deal  of  trouble — much  more  than  I  should 
feel  justified  in  delegating  to  Mr.  Smith.  For  my  own  part,  the 
conclusion  I  drew  from  the  whole  of  Mr.  Newby's  conduct  to  my 
sisters  was  that  he  is  a  man  with  whom  it  is  desirable  to  have 
little  to  do.  I  think  he  must  be  needy  as  well  as  tricky — and  if 
he  is,  one  would  not  distress  him,  even  for  one's  rights. 

If  Mr.  Smith  thinks  right  to  reprint  Wuthering  Heights  and 
Agnes  Grey>  I  would  prepare  a  preface  comprising  a  brief  and 


170  THE  BRONTES 

simple  notice  of  the  authors,  such  as  might  set  at  rest  all 
erroneous  conjectures  respecting  their  identity — and  adding  a  few 
poetical  remains  of  each. 

In  case  this  arrangement  is  approved,  you  will  kindly  let  me 
know,  and  I  will  commence  the  task  (a  sad,  but,  I  believe,  a 
necessary  one),  and  send  it  when  finished. — I  am,  my  dear  sir, 
yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  469 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

September  14^,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  found  after  sealing  my  last  note  to  you  that 
I  had  forgotten  after  all  to  enclose  Amelia's  letter ;  however,  it 
appears  it  does  not  signify.  While  I  think  of  it  I  must  refer  to 
an  act  of  petty  larceny  committed  by  me  when  I  was  last  in 
Brookroyd.  Do  you  remember  lending  rne  a  parasol  which  I 
should  have  left  with  you  when  we  parted  at  Leeds.  I  uncon- 
sciously carried  it  away  in  my  hand.  You  shall  have  it  when  you 
next  come  to  Haworth. 

I  wish,  dear  Ellen,  you  would  tell  me  what  is  the  '  twaddle 
about  my  marrying,  etc./  which  you  hear.  If  I  knew  the  details 
I  should  have  a  better  chance  of  guessing  the  quarter  from  which 
such  gossip  comes  ;  as  it  is,  I  am  quite  at  a  loss.  Whom  am  I  to 
marry?  I  think  I  have  scarcely  seen  a  single  man  with  whom 
such  a  union  would  be  possible  since  I  left  London.  Doubtless 
there  are  men  whom  if  I  chose  to  encourage  I  might  marry,  but 
no  matrimonial  lot  is  even  remotely  offered  me  which  seems  to 
me  truly  desirable  :  and  even  if  that  were  the  case,  there  would 
be  many  obstacles;  the  least  allusion  to  such  a  thing  is  most 
offensive  to  papa. 

An  article  entitled  '  Currer  Bell  3  has  lately  appeared  in  the 
Palladium,  a  new  periodical  published  in  Edinburgh.  It  is  an 
eloquent  production  and  one  of  such  warm  sympathy  and  high 
appreciation  as  I  had  never  expected  to  see,  it  makes  mistakes 
about  authorship,  etc.,  but  these  I  hope  one  day  to  set  right 
Mr.  Taylor  (the  little  man)  first  informed  me  of  this  article.  I 
was  somewhat  surprised  to  receive  his  letter,  having  concluded 
nine  months  ago  that  there  would  be  no  more  correspondence 
from  that  quarter.  I  enclose  you  a  note  from  him  received 
subsequently,  in  answer  to  my  acknowledgment.  Read  it  and 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     171 

tell  me  exactly  how  it  Impresses  you  regarding  the  writer's 
character,  etc.  His  little  newspaper1  disappeared  for  some  weeks, 
and  I  thought  it  was  gone  to  the  tomb  of  the  Capulets ;  however, 
it  has  reappeared  with  an  explanation  that  he  had  feared  its 
regular  transmission  might  rather  annoy  than  gratify.  I  told  him 
this  was  a  mistake,  that  I  was  well  enough  pleased  to  receive  it, 
but  hoped  he  would  not  make  a  task  of  sending  it.  For  the  rest 
I  cannot  consider  myself  placed  under  any  personal  obligation  by 
accepting  this  newspaper,  for  it  belongs  to  the  establishment  of 
Smith  &  Elder.  This  little  Taylor  is  deficient  neither  in  spirit 
nor  sense. 

The  report  about  my  having  published  again  is,  of  course,  an 
arrant  lie. 

Give  my  kind  regards  to  all,  and  believe  me,  yours  faithfully, 

C  B, 

Papa  continues  in  an  invalid  state,  still  subject  to  bronchitis, 
and  often  complaining  of  weakness.  I  have  wished  him  to 
consult  Mr.  Teale,  or  to  try  change  of  air,  but  his  objection  to 
both  these  alternatives  is  insuperable.  I  think  I  am  pretty  well 
Write  soon. 


Letter  470 

TO   W.   S.   WILLIAMS 

September 20 1&,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  herewith  send  you  a  very  roughly  written 
copy  of  what  I  have  to  say  about  my  sisters.  When  you  have 
read  it  you  can  better  judge  whether  the  word  '  Notice  *  or 
c  Memoir '  is  the  most  appropriate.  I  think  the  former.  Memoir 
seems  to  me  to  express  a  more  circumstantial  and  different  sort 
of  account.  My  aim  is  to  give  a  just  idea  of  their  identity,  not  to 
write  any  narration  of  their  simple,  uneventful  lives,  I  depend  on 
you  for  faithfully  pointing  out  whatever  may  strike  you  as  faulty. 
I  could  not  write  it  in  the  conventional  form — that  I  found 
impossible. 

It  gives  me  real  pleasure  to  hear  of  your  son's  success.  I  trust 
he  may  persevere  and  go  on  improving,  and  give  his  parents  cause 
for  satisfaction  and  honest  pride. 

1  The  Aihenaum,  which  Mr.  Taylor  had  sent  as  a  method  of  literary  courtship. 


172  THE  BRONTES 

I  am  truly  pleased,  too,  to  learn  that  Miss  Kavanagh  has  man- 
aged so  well  with  Mr.  Colburn.  Her  position  seems  to  me  one 
deserving  of  all  sympathy.  I  often  think  of  her.  Will  her  novel 
soon  be  published?  Somehow  I  expect  it  to  be  interesting. 

I  certainly  did  hope  that  Mrs.  Gaskell  would  offer  her  next 
work  to  Smith  &  Elder.  She  and  I  had  some  conversation  about 
publishers — a  comparison  of  our  literary  experiences  was  made. 
She  seemed  much  struck  with  the  differences  between  hers  and 
mine,  though  I  did  not  enter  into  details  or  tell  her  all.  Unless  I 
greatly  mistake,  she  and  you  and  Mr.  Smith  would  get  on  well 
together ;  but  one  does  not  know  what  causes  there  may  be  to 
prevent  her  from  doing  as  she  would  wish  in  such  a  case.  I 
think  Mr.  Smith  will  not  object  to  my  occasionally  sending  her 
any  of  the  Cornhill  books  that  she  may  like  to  see.  I  have 
already  taken  the  liberty  of  lending  her  Wordsworth's  Prelude,  as 
she  was  saying  how  much  she  wished  to  have  the  opportunity  of 
reading  it. 

I  do  not  tack  remembrances  to  Mrs.  Williams  and  your 
daughters  and  Miss  Kavanagh  to  all  my  letters,  because  that 
makes  an  empty  form  of  what  should  be  a  sincere  wish,  but  I 
trust  this  mark  of  courtesy  and  regard,  though  rarely  expressed, 
is  always  understood. — Believe  me,  yours  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  471 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  September  zjth,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  WOOLER, — When  I  tell  you  that  I  have 
already  been  to  the  Lakes  this  season,  and  that  it  is  scarcely  more 
than  a  month  since  I  returned,  you  will  understand  that  it  is  no 
longer  within  my  power  to  accept  your  kind  invitation. 

I  wish  I  could  have  gone  to  you.  I  wish  your  invitation  had 
come  first ;  to  speak  the  truth,  it  would  have  suited  me  better 
than  the  one  by  which  I  profited.  It  would  have  been  pleasant, 
soothing,  in  many  ways  beneficial,  to  have  spent  two  weeks  with 
you  in  your  cottage-lodgings.  But  these  reflections  are  vain.  I 
have  already  had  my  excursion,  and  there  is  an  end  of  it.  Sir  J* 
K.  Shuttleworth  is  residing  near  Windermere,  at  a  house  called 
'The  Briery/  and  it  was  there  I  was  staying  for  a  little  while  in 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     173 

August.  He  very  kindly  showed  me  the  scenery — as  it  can  be 
seen  from  a  carriage — and  I  discerned  that  the  'Lake  Country3  is 
a  glorious  region,  of  which  I  had  only  seen  the  similitude  in  dream 
— waking  or  sleeping.  But,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  I  only  half 
enjoyed  it,  because  I  was  only  half  at  my  ease.  Decidedly  I  find 
it  does  not  agree  with  me  to  prosecute  the  search  of  the  picturesque 
in  a  carriage ;  a  waggon,  a  spring-cart,  even  a  post-chaise  might 
do,  but  the  carriage  upsets  everything.  I  longed  to  slip  out 
unseen,  and  to  run  away  by  myself  in  amongst  the  hills  and  dales. 
Erratic  and  vagrant  instincts  tormented  me,  and  these  I  was 
obliged  to  control,  or  rather,  suppress,  for  fear  of  growing  in  any 
degree  enthusiastic,  and  thus  drawing  attention  to  the  c  lioness/ 
the  authoress,  the  artist.  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth  is  a  man  of  ability 
and  intellect,  but  not  a  man  in  whose  presence  one  willingly 
unbends. 

You  say  you  suspect  I  have  found  a  large  circle  of  acquaintance 
by  this  time.  No,  I  cannot  say  that  I  have.  I  doubt  whether  I 
possess  either  the  wish  or  the  power  to  do  so.  A  few  friends  I 
should  like  to  know  well ;  if  such  knowledge  brought  proportionate 
regard  I  could  not  help  concentrating  my  feelings.  Dissipation,  I 
think,  appears  synonymous  with  dilution.  However,  I  have  as  yet 
scarcely  been  tried.  During  the  month  I  spent  in  London  in  the 
spring,  I  kept  very  quiet,  having  the  fear  of  c  lionising '  before  my 
eyes.  I  only  went  out  once  to  dinner,  and  was  once  present  at  an 
evening  party ;  and  the  only  visits  I  have  paid  have  been  to  Sir 
J.  K.  Shuttleworth  and  my  publishers.  From  this  system  I  should 
not  like  to  depart.  As  far  as  I  can  see,  indiscriminate  visiting 
tends  only  to  a  waste  of  time  and  a  vulgarising  of  character. 
Besides,  it  would  be  wrong  to  leave  papa  often  ;  he  is  now  in  his 
74th  year,  the  infirmities  of  age  begin  to  creep  upon  him.  During 
the  summer  he  has  been  much  harassed  by  chronic  bronchitis,  but, 
I  am  thankful  to  say,  he  is  now  somewhat  better.  I  think  my 
own  health  has  derived  benefit  from  change  and  exercise. 

You  ask  after  Ellen  Nussey.  When  I  saw  Ellen,  about  two 
months  ago,  she  looked  remarkably  welL  I  sometimes  hear  small 
fragments  of  gossip  which  amuse  me.  Somebody  professes  to 
have  authority  for  saying  that '  When  Miss  Bronte  was  in  London 
she  neglected  to  attend  divine  service  on  the  Sabbath,  and  in 
the  week  spent  her  time  in  going  about  to  balls,  theatres,  and 
operas.1  On  the  other  hand,  the  London  quidnuncs  make  my 
seclusion  a  matter  of  wonder,  and  devise  twenty  romantic  fictions 


174  THE  BRONTES 

to  account  for  it.  Formerly  I  used  to  listen  to  report  with  interest 
and  a  certain  credulity ;  I  am  now  grown  deaf  and  sceptical. 
Experience  has  taught  me  how  absolutely  devoid  of  foundations 
her  stories  may  be. 

With  the  sincere  hope  that  your  own  health  is  better,  and  kind 
remembrances  to  all  old  friends  whenever  you  see  them  or  write 
to  them  (and  whether  or  not  their  feeling  to  me  has  ceased  to  be 
friendly,  which  I  fear  is  the  case  in  some  instances), — I  am,  my 
dear  Miss  Wooler,  always  yours,  affectionately  and  respectfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  472 

TO  W.   S.  WILLIAMS 

October  ^nd,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SlR, — I  have  to  thank  you  for  the  care  and  kindness 
with  which  you  have  assisted  me  throughout  in  correcting  these 
Remains. 

Whether,  when  they  are  published,  they  will  appear  to  others  as 
they  do  to  me,  I  cannot  tell.  I  hope  not.  And  indeed  I  suppose 
what  to  me  Is  bitter  pain  will  only  be  soft  pathos  to  the  general 
public. 

Miss  Martineau  has  several  times  lately  asked  me  to  go  and  see 
her ;  and  though  this  Is  a  dreary  season  for  travelling  northward, 
I  think  if  papa  continues  pretty  well  I  shall  go  in  a  week  or  two. 
I  feel  to  my  deep  sorrow,  to  my  humiliation,  that  it  is  not  in  my 
power  to  bear  the  canker  of  constant  solitude.  I  had  calculated 
that  when  shut  out  from  every  enjoyment,  from  every  stimulus 
but  what  could  be  derived  from  intellectual  exertion,  my  mind 
would  rouse  itself  perforce.  It  is  not  so.  Even  intellect,  even 
imagination,  will  not  dispense  with  the  ray  of  domestic  cheerful- 
ness, with  the  gentle  spur  of  family  discussion.  Late  in  the  even- 
ings, and  all  through  the  nights,  I  fall  into  a  condition  of  mind 
which  turns  entirely  to  the  past — to  memory  ;  and  memory  is  both 
sad  and  relentless.  This  will  never  do,  and  will  produce  no  good. 
I  tell  you  this  that  you  may  check  false  anticipations.  You  cannot 
help  me,  and  must  not  trouble  yourself  in  any  shape  to  sympathise 
with  me.  It  is  my  cup,  and  I  must  drink  it,  as  others  drink  theirs, 
— Yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     175 

Letter  473 

TO  G.  H.  LEWES 

October  yd,  1850. 

I  am  sure  you  will  have  thought  me  very  dilatory  in  returning 
the  books  you  so  kindly  lent  me ;  the  fact  is,  having  some  other 
books  to  send,  I  retained  yours  to  enclose  them  in  the  same 
parcel. 

Accept  my  thanks  for  some  hours  of  pleasant  reading.  Balzac 
was  for  me  quite  a  new  author  ;  and  in  making  his  acquaintance, 
through  the  medium  of  Modeste  Mignon  and  Illusions  Perdues^ 
you  cannot  doubt  I  have  felt  some  interest  At  first  I  thought 
he  was  going  to  be  painfully  minute,  and  fearfully  tedious ;  one 
grew  impatient  of  his  long  parade  of  detail,  his  slow  revelation 
of  unimportant  circumstances,  as  he  assembled  his  personages  on 
the  stage;  but  by-and-by  I  seemed  to  enter  into  the  mystery 
of  his  craft,  and  to  discover,  with  delight,  where  his  force  lay :  is 
it  not  in  the  analysis  of  motive,  and  in  a  subtle  perception  of  the 
most  obscure  and  secret  workings  of  the  mind?  Still,  admire 
Balzac  as  we  may,  I  think  we  do  not  like  him ;  we  rather  feel 
towards  him  as  towards  an  ungenial  acquaintance  who  is  for  ever 
holding  up  in  strong  light  our  defects,  and  who  rarely  draws  forth 
our  better  qualities. 

Truly  I  like  George  Sand  better. 

Fantastical,  fanatical,  unpractical  enthusiast  as  she  often  is — 
far  from  truthful  as  are  many  of  her  views  of  life — misled,  as  she 
is  apt  to  be,  by  her  feelings — George  Sand  has  a  better  nature 
than  M.  de  Balzac ;  her  brain  is  larger,  her  heart  warmer  than 
his.  The  Lettres  d*un  Voyageur&cz  full  of  the  writer's  self;  and 
I  never  felt  so  strongly,  as  in  the  perusal  of  this  work,  that  most 
of  her  very  faults  spring  from  the  excess  of  her  good  qualities : 
it  is  this  excess  which  has  often  hurried  her  into  difficulty,  which 
has  prepared  for  her  enduring  regret 

But  I  believe  her  mind  is  of  that  order  which  disastrous  ex- 
perience teaches,  without  weakening,  or  too  much  disheartening, 
and,  in  that  case,  the  longer  she  lives  the  better  she  will  grow. 
A  hopeful  point  in  all  her  writings  is  the  scarcity  of  false  French 
sentiment ;  I  wish  I  could  say  its  absence ;  but  the  weed  flourishes 
here  and  there  even  in  the  Lettres.  C.  B. 


176  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  474 

A   FRIEND   TO   MRS.   GASKELL1 

October  $rd^  1850. 

Though  the  weather  was  drizzly  we  resolved  to  make  our 
long-planned  excursion  to  Haworth ;  so  we  packed  ourselves 
into  the  buffalo  skin,  and  that  Into  the  gig,  and  set  off  about 
eleven.  The  rain  ceased,  and  the  day  was  just  suited  to  the 
scenery — wild  and  chill — with  great  masses  of  cloud  glooming 
over  the  moors,  and  here  and  there  a  ray  of  sunshine  covertly 
stealing  through,  and  resting  with  a  dim  magical  light  upon 
some  high  bleak  village ;  or  darting  down  into  some  deep  glen, 
lighting  up  the  tall  chimney,  or  glistening  on  the  windows  and 
wet  roof  of  the  mill  which  lies  couching  in  the  bottom.  The 
country  got  wilder  and  wilder  as  we  approached  Haworth ;  for 
the  last  four  miles  we  were  ascending  a  huge  moor,  at  the  very 
top  of  which  lies  the  dreary,  black-looking  village  of  Haworth. 
The  village  street  itself  is  one  of  the  steepest  hills  I  have  ever 
seen,  and  the  stones  are  so  horribly  jolting  that  I  should  have 

got  out  and  walked  with  W ,  if  possible,  but,  having  once 

begun  the  ascent,  to  stop  was  out  of  the  question.  At  the  top 
was  the  inn  where  we  put  up,  close  by  the  church ;  and  the 
clergyman's  house,  we  were  told,  was  at  the  top  of  the  church- 
yard. So  through  that  we  went — a  dreary,  dreary  place,  literally 
paved  with  rain-blackened  tombstones,  and  all  on  the  slope ;  for 
at  Haworth  there  Is  on  the  highest  height  a  higher  still,  and 
Mr.  Bronte's  house  stands  considerably  above  the  church.  There 
was  the  house  before  us,  a  small  oblong  stone  house,  with  not 
a  tree  to  screen  It  from  the  cutting  wind ;  but  how  we  were  to 
get  at  it  from  the  churchyard  we  could  not  see !  There  was  an 
old  man  in  the  churchyard,  brooding  like  a  ghoul  over  the  graves, 
with  a  sort  of  grim  hilarity  on  his  face.  I  thought  he  looked 
hardly  human  ;  however,  he  was  human  enough  to  tell  us  the 
way;  and  presently  we  found  ourselves  In  the  little  bare  parlour. 
Presently  the  door  opened,  and  in  came  a  superannuated  mastiff, 
followed  by  an  old  gentleman  very  like  Miss  Bronte,  who  shook 

1  Describing  a  visit  to  Haworth  in  1850.     See  Mrs.  Gaskell's  Life.,  Haworth  edition, 
pp.  485-7* 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES    177 

hands  with  us,  and  then  went  to  call  his  daughter.  A  long 
interval,  during  which  we  coaxed  the  old  dog,  and  looked  at  a 
picture  of  Miss  Bronte,  by  Richmond,  the  solitary  ornament  of 
the  room,  looking  strangely  out  of  place  on  the  bare  walls,  and 
at  the  books  on  the  little  shelves,  most  of  them  evidently  the 
gift  of  the  authors  since  Miss  Bronte's  celebrity.  Presently  she 
came  in,  and  welcomed  us  very  kindly,  and  took  me  upstairs  to 
take  off  my  bonnet,  and  herself  brought  me  water  and  towels. 
The  uncarpeted  stone  stairs  and  floors,  the  old  drawers  propped 
on  wood,  were  all  scrupulously  clean  and  neat.  When  we  went 
into  the  parlour  again  we  began  talking  very  comfortably,  when 
the  door  opened  and  Mr.  Bronte  looked  in  ;  seeing  his  daughter 
there,  I  suppose  he  thought  it  was  all  right,  and  he  retreated  to 
his  study  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  passage,  presently  emerging 

again  to  bring  W a  country  newspaper.  This  was  his  last 

appearance  till  we  went.  Miss  Bronte  spoke  with  the  greatest 
warmth  of  Miss  Martineau,  and  of  the  good  she  had  gained  from 
hen  Well !  we  talked  about  various  things — the  character  of  the 
people,  about  her  solitude,  etc. — till  she  left  the  room  to  help 
about  dinner,  I  suppose,  for  she  did  not  return  for  an  age.  The 
old  dog  had  vanished ;  a  fat  curly-haired  dog  honoured  us  with 
his  company  for  some  time,  but  finally  manifested  a  wish  to  get 
out,  so  we  were  left  alone.  At  last  she  returned,  followed  by  the 
maid  and  dinner,  which  made  us  all  more  comfortable ;  and  we 
had  some  very  pleasant  conversation,  in  the  midst  of  which  time 

passed  quicker  than  we  supposed,  for  at  last  W found  that 

it  was  half-past  three,  and  we  had  fourteen  or  fifteen  miles  before 
us.  So  we  hurried  off,  having  obtained  from  her  a  promise  to 
pay  us  a  visit  in  the  spring ;  and  the  old  gentleman  having  issued 
once  more  from  his  study  to  say  good-bye,  we  returned  to  the  inn, 
and  made  the  best  of  our  way  homewards. 

Miss  Bronte  put  me  so  in  mind  of  her  own  *  Jane  Eyre/  She 
looked  smaller  than  ever,  and  moved  about  so  quietly,  and  noise- 
lessly, just  like  a  little  bird,  as  Rochester  called  her,  barring  that 
all  birds  are  joyous,  and  that  joy  can  never  have  entered  that 
house  since  it  was  first  built ;  and  yet,  perhaps,  when  that  old 
man  married,  and  took  home  his  bride,  and  children's  voices  and 
feet  were  heard  about  the  house,  even  that  desolate  crowded 
graveyard  and  biting  blast  could  not  quench  cheerfulness  and 
hope.  Now  there  is  something  touching  in  the  sight  of  that  little 
creature  entombed  in  such  a  place,  and  moving  about  herself  like 

VOL.  II.  M 


178  THE  BRONTES 

a  spirit,  especially  when  you  think  that  the  slight  still  frame 
encloses  a  force  of  strong  fiery  life,  which  nothing  has  been  able 
to  freeze  or  extinguish. 


Letter  475 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

October  yd^  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — There  is  nothing  wrong,  and  I  am  writing 
you  a  line  as  you  desire,  merely  to  say  that  I  am  busy  just  now. 
Mr.  Smith  wishes  to  reprint  some  of  Emily's  and  Anne's  works, 
with  a  few  little  additions  from  the  papers  they  have  left ;  and  I 
have  been  closely  engaged  in  revising,  transcribing,  preparing 
a  preface,  notice,  etc.  As  the  time  for  doing  this  is  limited,  I  am 
obliged  to  be  industrious.  I  found  the  task  at  first  exquisitely 
painful  and  depressing ;  but  regarding  it  in  the  light  of  a  sacred 
duty,  I  went  on,  and  now  can  bear  it  better.  It  is  work,  however, 
that  I  cannot  do  in  the  evening,  for  if  I  did  I  should  have  no 
sleep  at  night  Papa,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  is  in  improved  health, 
and  so,  I  think,  am  I ;  I  trust  you  are  the  same. 

I  have  just  received  a  kind  letter  from  Miss  Martineau.  She 
has  got  back  to  Ambleside,  and  had  heard  of  my  visit  to  the 
Lakes.  She  expressed  her  regret,  etc.,  at  not  being  at  home. 

I  trust  you  are  well.  I  am  very  decent  indeed  in  bodily 
health,  and  am  both  angry  and  surprised  at  myself  for  not 
being  in  better  spirits ;  for  not  growing  accustomed,  or  at  least 
resigned,  to  the  solitude  and  isolation  of  my  lot  But  my  late 
occupation  left  a  result  for  some  days,  and  indeed  still,  very 
painful.  The  reading  over  of  papers,  the  renewal  of  remembrances 
brought  back  the  pang  of  bereavement,  and  occasioned  a  depres- 
sion of  spirits  well-nigh  intolerable.  For  one  or  two  nights,  I 
scarcely  knew  how  to  get  on  till  morning ;  and  when  morning 
came,  I  was  still  haunted  with  a  sense  of  sickening  distress.  I  tell 
you  these  things,  because  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  me  to  have 
some  relief.  You  will  forgive  me,and  not  trouble  yourself, or  imagine 
that  I  am  one  whit  worse,  than  I  say.  It  is  quite  a  mental  ailment, 
and  I  believe  and  hope  it  is  better  now.  I  think  so,  because  I  can 
speak  about  it,  which  I  never  can  when  grief  is  at  its  worst. 

I  thought  to  find  occupation  and  interest  in  writing,  when  alone 
at  home,  but  hitherto  my  efforts  have  been  vain ;  the  deficiency  of 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     179 

every  stimulus  is  so  complete.  You  will  recommend  me,  I  dare 
say,  to  go  from  home ;  but  that  does  no  good,  even  if  I  could 
again  leave  papa  with  an  easy  mind  (thank  God !  he  is  better).  I 
cannot  describe  what  a  time  of  it  I  had  after  my  return  from 
London,  Scotland,  etc.  There  was  a  reaction  that  sunk  me  to  the 
earth ;  the  deadly  silence,  solitude,  desolation,  were  awful ;  the 
craving  for  companionship,  the  hopelessness  of  relief,  were  what  I 
should  dread  to  feel  again. 

Dear  Nell,  when  I  think  of  you,  it  is  with  a  compassion  and 
tenderness  that  scarcely  cheer  me.  Mentally,  I  fear,  you  also  are 
too  lonely  and  too  little  occupied.  It  seems  our  doom,  for  the 
present  at  least.  May  God  in  His  mercy  help  us  to  bear  it — 
Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  476 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

October  8f&,  1850. 

DEAR  NELL, — Being  too  lazy  to  send  for  a  Post  Office  Order, 
I  have  sent  the  accompanying  coin  in  a  little  box — tell  me 
whether  it  reaches  you  safely.  Should  it  be  too  late  to  get  the 
card-case,  get  something  else,  anything  you  think  will  please,  and 
offer  it  with  my  kind  love. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  Mr.  Clapham  so  fully  meets  your  approbation, 
and  hope  he  will  continue  to  do  so. 

Instead  of  sending  a  card  for  the  1 5th,  I  think  I  shall  write  a 
little  note. 

Poor  Mercy !  I  pity  her,  and  yet  I  am  angry  with  her.  What  a 
wretched  misfortune  to  be  deficient  in  sense  and  self-government! 

Miss  Wooler's  idea  amazed  me  —  it  is  perfectly  groundless. 
I  am  unconscious  of  the  slightest  change — my  regard  for  her  is 
altogether  unaltered.  I  wish  she  may  mention  it  to  me  herself. 

I  shall  certainly  not  come  till  you  get  your  'stirs'  in  some 
measure  over.  Good-bye,  dear  Nell.  C.  B. 


Letter  477 

TO  W.   S.  WILLIAMS 

October  i6t&,  1850. 

My  DEAR  SIR, — On  the  whole  it  is  perhaps  as  well  that  the 
last  paragraph  of  the  Preface  should  be  omitted,  for  I  believe  it 


180  THE  BRONTES 

was  not  expressed  with  the  best  grace  in  the  world,  You  must 
not,  however,  apologise  for  your  suggestion — it  was  kindly  meant 
and,  believe  me,  kindly  taken ;  is  was  not  you  I  misunderstood — 
not  for  a  moment,  I  never  misunderstand  you — I  was  thinking  of 
the  critics  and  the  public,  who  are  always  crying  for  a  moral  like 
the  Pharisees  for  a  sign.  Does  this  assurance  quite  satisfy  you  ? 

I  forgot  to  say  that  I  had  already  heard,  first  from  Miss 
Martineau,  and  subsequently  through  an  intimate  friend  of 
Sydney  Yendys  (whose  real  name  is  Mr.  Dobell)  that  it  was  to 
the  author  of  the  Roman  we  are  indebted  for  that  eloquent  article 
in  the  Palladium.  I  am  glad  you  are  going  to  send  his  poem,  for 
I  much  wished  to  see  it. 

May  I  trouble  you  to  look  at  a  sentence  in  the  Preface  which  I 
have  erased,  because  on  reading  it  over  I  was  not  quite  sure  about 
the  scientific  correctness  of  the  expressions  used.  Metal,  I  know, 
will  burn  in  vivid-coloured  flame,  exposed  to  galvanic  action,  but 
whether  it  is  consumed,  I  am  not  sure.  Perhaps  you  or  Mr. 
Taylor  can  tell  me  whether  there  is  any  blunder  in  the  term  em- 
ployed— if  not,  it  might  stand. — I  am,  yours  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  478 

TO  JAMES   TAYLOR. 

November  62%,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  just  finished  reading  the  Life  of  Dr. 
Arnold,  but  now  when  I  wish,  in  accordance  with  your  request,  to 
express  what  I  think  of  it,  I  do  not  find  the  task  very  easy; 
proper  terms  seem  wanting.  This  is  not  a  character  to  be  dis- 
missed with  a  few  laudatory  words ;  it  Is  not  a  one-sided 
character;  pure  panegyric  would  be  inappropriate.  Dr.  Arnold 
(it  seems  to  me)  was  not  quite  saintly ;  his  greatness  was  cast  in 
a  mortal  mould ;  he  was  a  little  severe — almost  a  little  hard  ;  he 
was  vehement  and  somewhat  oppugnant  Himself  the  most 
indefatigable  of  workers,  I  know  not  whether  he  could  have 
understood  or  made  allowance  for  a  temperament  that  required 
more  rest,  yet  not  to  one  man  in  twenty  thousand  is  given  his 
giant  faculty  of  labour;  by  virtue  of  it  he  seems  to  me  the 
greatest  of  Working  Men.  Exacting  he  might  have  been  then  on 
this  point,  and  granting  that  he  were  so,  an«l  a  little  hasty,  stern 
and  positive,  those  were  his  sole  faults  (if  indeed  that  can  be  called 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     181 

a  fault  which  in  no  shape  degrades  the  individual's  own  character 
but  is  only  apt  to  oppress  and  overstrain  the  weaker  nature  of  his 
neighbours).  Afterwards  come  his  good  qualities.  About  these 
there  is  nothing  dubious.  Where  can  we  find  justice,  firmness,  in- 
dependence, earnestness,  sincerity,  fuller  and  purer  than  in  him  ? 

But  this  is  not  all,  and  I  am  glad  of  it.  Besides  high  intellect 
and  stainless  rectitude,  his  letters  and  his  life  attest  his  possession 
of  the  most  true-hearted  affection.  Without  this,  however  we 
might  admire,  we  could  not  love  him,  but  with  it  I  think  we  love 
him  much.  A  hundred  such  men,  fifty,  nay,  ten  or  five  such 
righteous  men  might  save  any  country,  might  victoriously 
champion  any  cause. 

I  was  struck,  too,  by  the  almost  unbroken  happiness  of  his  life ; 
a  happiness  resulting  chiefly,  no  doubt,  from  the  right  use  to 
which  he  put  that  health  and  strength  which  God  had  given 
him,  but  also  owing  partly  to  a  singular  exemption  from  those 
deep  and  bitter  griefs  which  most  human  beings  are  called  on  to 
endure.  His  wife  was  what  he  wished  ;  his  children  were  healthy 
and  promising  ;  his  own  health  was  excellent ;  his  undertakings 
were  crowned  with  success ;  even  Death  was  kind,  for  however 
sharp  the  pains  of  his  last  hours,  they  were  but  brief.  God's 
blessing  seems  to  have  accompanied  him  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave.  One  feels  thankful  to  know  that  it  has  been  permitted  to 
any  man  to  live  such  a  life. 

When  I  was  in  Westmoreland  last  August,  I  spent  an  evening 
at  Fox  How,  where  Mrs.  Arnold  and  her  daughters  still  reside. 
It  was  twilight  as  I  drove  to  the  place,  and  almost  dark  ere  I 
reached  it ;  still  I  could  perceive  that  the  situation  was  exquisitely 
lovely.  The  house  looked  like  a  nest  half  buried  in  flowers  and 
creepers,  and,  dusk  as  it  was,  I  could  feel  that  the  valley  and  the 
hills  round  were  beautiful  as  imagination  could  dream.  Mrs. 
Arnold  seemed  an  amiable,  and  must  once  have  been  a  very 
pretty,  woman  ;  her  daughters  I  liked  much.  There  was  present 
also  a  son  of  Chevalier  Bunsen,  with  his  wife  or  rather  bride.  I 
had  not  then  read  Dr.  Arnold's  Life ;  otherwise,  the  visit  would 
have  interested  me  even  more  than  it  actually  did. 

Mr.  Williams  told  me  (if  I  mistake  not)  that  you  had  recently 
visited  the  c  Lake  Country/  I  trust  you  enjoyed  your  excursion, 
and  that  our  English  Lakes  did  not  suffer  too  much  by  com- 
parison in  your  memory  with  the  Scottish  Lochs. — I  am,  rny 
dear  sir,  yours  sincerely,  C  BRONTE. 


182  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  479 

TO  W.  S.   WILLIAMS 

November  gth^  1850. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  read  Lord  John  Russell's  letter  with 
very  great  zest  and  relish,  and  think  him  a  spirited,  sensible  little 
man  for  writing  it  He  makes  no  old-womanish  outcry  of  alarm 
and  expresses  no  exaggerated  wrath.  One  of  the  best  paragraphs 
is  that  which  refers  to  the  Bishop  of  London  and  the  Puseyites. 
Oh  I  I  wish  Dr.  Arnold  were  yet  living,  or  that  a  second  Dr. 
Arnold  could  be  found !  Were  there  but  ten  such  men  amongst 
the  hierarchs  of  the  Church  of  England,  she  might  bid  defiance 
to  all  the  scarlet  hats  and  stockings  in  the  Pope's  gift.  Her 
sanctuaries  would  be  purified,  her  rites  reformed,  her  withered 
veins  would  swell  again  with  vital  sap  ;  but  it  is  not  so. 

It  is  well  that  truth  is  indestructible — that  ruin  cannot  crush 
nor  fire  annihilate  her  divine  essence.  While  forms  change  and 
institutions  perish,  c  truth  is  great  and  shall  prevail.' 

I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  that  Miss  Kavanagh's  health  is  im- 
proved. You  can  send  her  book  whenever  it  is  most  convenient. 
I  received  from  Cornhill  the  other  day  a  periodical  containing  a 
portrait  of  Jenny  Lind — a  sweet,  natural,  innocent  peasant-girl 
face,  curiously  contrasted  with  an  artificial  fine-lady  dress.  I  do 
like  and  esteem  Jenny's  character.  Yet  not  long  since  I  heard 
her  torn  to  pieces  by  the  tongue  of  detraction — scarcely  a  virtue 
left — twenty  odious  defects  imputed. 

There  was  likewise  a  most  faithful  portrait  of  R.  H.  Horne> 
with  his  imaginative  forehead  and  somewhat  foolish-looking 
mouth  and  chin,  indicating  that  mixed  character  which  I  should 
think  he  owns.  Mr.  Home  writes  well.  That  tragedy  on  the 
Death  of  Marlowe  reminds  me  of  some  of  the  best  of  Dumas' 
dramatic  pieces. — Yours  very  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  480 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

Now&mber  *2&th  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — There  is  no  chance  of  my  getting  either  to 
Brookroyd  or  Huns  worth ;  I  cannot  leave  home  at  all  just  now, 
and  when  I  do  go,  it  ought  to  be  to  see  Miss  Martineau.  She  has 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     188 

asked  me  twice,  in  terms  so  kind,  considerate,  and  yet  so  urgent, 
that  it  would  seem  wrong  to  withstand  her.  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth 
has  likewise  asked  me  again,  but  I  should  only  go  there  for  a  day, 
if  at  all.  Do  you  know  whether  Miss  Wooler  is  still  at  the  Lakes  ? 
If  she  is,  I  would  (in  case  I  went)  dedicate  some  days  to  her. 

Papa  continues  pretty  well ;  Martha  is  better,  but  not  quite 
strong.  I  trust  and  hope  my  headaches  are  going  to  give  me  a 
respite ;  they  have  been  very  annoying,  not  from  their  violence 
but  frequency.  I  mean  to  answer  Amelia's  note  in  a  day  or  two. 
— Yours  faithfully,  C  B. 

Letter  481 

TO   SYDNEY   DOBELL 

HAWORTH,  KEIGHLEY,  NEAR  YORKSHIRE, 
December  8/^,  1850 

I  offer  this  little  book 1  to  my  critic  in  the  Palladium^  and  he 
must  believe  it  accompanied  by  a  tribute  of  the  sincerest  grati- 
tude ;  not  so  much  for  anything  he  has  said  of  myself  as  for  the 
noble  justice  he  has  rendered  to  one  dear  to  me  as  myself — 
perhaps  dearer — and  perhaps  one  kind  word  spoken  for  her 
awakens  a  deeper,  tenderer  sentiment  of  thankfulness  than  eulogies 
heaped  on  my  own  head.  As  you  will  see  when  you  have  read 
the  biographical  notice,  my  sister  cannot  thank  you  herself;  she 
is  gone  out  of  your  sphere  and  mine,  and  human  blame  and 
praise  are  nothing  to  her  now.  But  to  me,  for  her  sake,  they  are 
something  still ;  it  revived  me  for  many  a  day  to  find  that, 
dead  as  she  was,  the  work  of  her  genius  had  at  last  met  with 
worthy  appreciation. 

Tell  me,  when  you  have  read  the  introduction,  whether  any 
doubts  still  linger  in  your  mind  respecting  the  authorship  of 
Wuthering  Heights,  Wildfell  Hall^  etc.  Your  mistrust  did  me 
some  injustice ;  it  proved  a  general  conception  of  character  such 
as  I  should  be  sorry  to  call  mine;  but  these  false  ideas  will 
naturally  arise  when  we  only  judge  an  author  from  his  works. 
In  fairness  1'  must  also  disclaim  the  flattering  side  of  the  portrait. 
I  am  no  ' young  Penthesilea  mediis  in  millibus*  but  a  plain 
country  parson's  daughter. 

Once  more  I  thank  you,  and  that  with  a  full  heart. 

C.  BRONTE. 

1  The  second  edition  of  Wuthering  Heights. 


184  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  482 

TO  MRS.  GASKELL 

December  13^/2,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  GASKELL, — Miss  Js  kindness  and  yours 

is  such  that  I  am  placed  in  the  dilemma  of  not  knowing  how 
adequately  to  express  my  sense  of  it.  This  I  know,  however, 
very  well— that  if  I  could  go  and  be  with  you  for  a  week  or  two 
in  such  a  quiet  south-country  house,  and  with  such  kind  people 
as  you  describe,  I  should  like  it  much.  I  find  the  proposal 
marvellously  to  my  taste  ;  it  is  the  pleasantest,  gentlest,  sweetest 
temptation  possible ;  but,  delectable  as  it  is,  its  solicitations  are 
by  no  means  to  be  yielded  to  without  the  sanction  of  reason,  and 
therefore  I  desire  for  the  present  to  be  silent,  and  to  stand  back 
till  I  have  been  to  Miss  Martineau's,  and  returned  home,  and 
considered  well  whether  it  is  a  scheme  as  right  as  agreeable. 

Meantime  the  mere  thought  does  me  good. 

Letter  483 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

THE  KNOLL,  AMBLESIDE, 
December  iBtti,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  can  write  to  you  now,  for  I  am  away  from 
home,  and  relieved  temporarily,  at  least,  by  change  of  air  and 
scene,  from  the  heavy  burden  of  depression  which,  I  confess,  has 
for  nearly  three  months  been  sinking  me  to  the  earth.  I  shall 
never  forget  last  autumn!  Some  days  and  nights  have  been 
cruel ;  but  now,  having  once  told  you  this,  I  need  say  no  more  on 
the  subject.  My  loathing  of  solitude  grew  extreme ;  my  recollec- 
tion of  my  sisters  intolerably  poignant  I  am  better  now.  I  am 
at  Miss  Martineau's  for  a  week.  Her  house  is  very  pleasant,  both 
within  and  without ;  arranged  at  all  points  with  admirable  neat- 
ness and  comfort.  Her  visitors  enjoy  the  most  perfect  liberty; 
what  she  claims  for  herself  she  allows  them.  I  rise  at  my  own 
hour,  breakfast  alone  (she  is  up  at  five,  and  takes  a  cold  bath,  and 
a  walk  by  starlight,  and  has  finished  breakfast  and  got  to  her 
work  by  seven  o'clock).  I  pass  the  morning  in  the  drawing-room, 
she  in  her  study.  At  two  o'clock  we  meet ;  work,  talk,  and  walk 
together  till  five,  her  dinner-hour;  spend  the  evening  together, 
when  she  converses  fluently  and  abundantly,  and  with  the  most 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     185 

complete  frankness.  I  go  to  my  own  room  soon  after  ten  ;  she 
sits  up  writing  letters  till  twelve.  She  appears  exhaustless  in 
strength  and  spirits,  and  indefatigable  in  the  faculty  of  labour. 
She  is  a  great  and  a  good  woman;  of  course  not  without 
peculiarities,  but  I  have  seen  none  as  yet  that  annoy  me.  She  is 
both  hard  and  warm-hearted,  abrupt  and  affectionate,  liberal  and 
despotic.  I  believe  she  is  not  at  all  conscious  of  her  own 
absolutism.  When  I  tell  her  of  it,  she  denies  the  charge  warmly ; 
then  I  laugh  at  her.  I  believe  she  almost  rules  Ambleside.  Some 
of  the  gentry  dislike  her,  but  the  lower  orders  have  a  great  regard 
for  her.  I  will  not  stay  more  than  a  week  because  about 
Christmas  relatives  and  guests  will  come.  Sir  J.  and  Lady 
Shuttleworth  are  coming  here  to  dine  on  Thursday.  Write  to  me 
and  say  how  you  are.  Kind  regards  to  all. — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  484 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

AMBLESIDE,  December  list,  '50. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  have  managed  to  get  off  going  to  Sir  J.  K, 
Shuttleworth's  by  a  promise  to  come  some  other  time ;  I  thought  I 
really  should  like  to  spend  2  or  3  days  with  you  before  going 
home,  therefore  if  it  is  not  inconvenient  for  you  I  will  come  on 
Monday  and  stay  till  Thursday.  I  shall  be  at  Bradford  (D.V.)  at 
10  minutes  past  2  Monday  afternoon,  and  can  take  a  cab  at  the 
station  forward  to  Birstall.  I  have  truly  enjoyed  my  visit.  I  have 
seen  a  good  many  people,  and  all  have  been  so  marvellously  kind, 
not  the  least  so  the  family  of  Dr.  Arnold.  Miss  Martineau  I  relish 
inexpressibly.  Sir  James  has  been  almost  every  day  to  take  me 
a  drive ;  I  begin  to  admit  in  my  own  mind  that  he  is  sincerely 
benignant  to  me.  I  grieve  to  say  he  looks  to  me  as  if  wasting  away. 
Lady  J3.  is  ill,  near  her  confinement;  she  cannot  go  out,  and  I 
£*£ve  not  seen  her.  Till  we  meet,  good-bye.  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  485 

TO  THE  REV.  P.   BRONTE 

AMBLESIDE,  December  zist,  1850. 

DEAR  PAPA, — I  think  I  shall  not  come  home  till  Thursday. 
If  all  be  well  I  shall  leave  here  on  Monday  and  spend  a  day  or 


186  THE  BRONTES 

two  with  Ellen  Nussey.  I  have  enjoyed  my  visit  exceedingly. 
Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth  has  called  several  times  and  taken  me  out 
in  his  carriage.  He  seems  very  truly  friendly  ;  but,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  he  looks  pale  and  very  much  wasted.  I  greatly  fear  he  will 
not'live  very  long  unless  some  change  for  the  better  soon  takes 
place.  Lady  Shuttleworth  is  ill  too,  and  cannot  go  out.  I  have 
seen  a  good  deal  of  Dr.  Arnold's  family  and  like  them  much.  As 
to  Miss  Martineau,  I  admire  her  and  wonder  at  her  more  than  I 
can  say.  Her  powers  of  labour,  of  exercise,  and  social  cheerfulness 
are  beyond  my  comprehension.  In  spite  of  the  unceasing 
activity  of  her  colossal  intellect  she  enjoys  robust  health.  She  is  a 
taller,  larger,  and  more  strongly  made  woman  than  I  had  imagined 
from  that  first  interview  with  her.  She  is  very  kind  to  me,  though 
she  must  think  I  am  a  very  insignificant  person  compared  to  her- 
self. She  has  just  been  into  the  room  to  show  me  a  chapter  of 
her  history  which  she  is  now  \vriting,  relating  to  the  Duke  of 
Wellington's  character  and  his  proceedings  in  the  Peninsula.  She 
wanted  an  opinion  on  it,  and  I  was  happy  to  be  able  to  give  a  very 
approving  one.  She  seems  to  understand  and  do  him  justice. 

You  must  not  direct  any  more  letters  here  as  they  will  not 
reach  me  after  to-day.  Hoping,  dear  papa,  that  you  are  well, 
and  with  kind  regards  to  Tabby  and  Martha, — I  am,  your 
affectionate  daughter,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  486 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

December  17  th,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  got  home  all  right  yesterday  soon  after  2 
o'clock,  and  found  papa,  thank  God,  well  and  free  from  cold.  To- 
day some  amount  of  sickliness  and  headache  is  bothering  me,  but 

nothing  to  signify.  How  did  you  and  Mr. get  on  after  I  left 

you,  and  how  is  your  cough?  No  better  I  fear  for  this  misty  day. 

The  Christmas  books  waiting  for  me  were,  as  I  expected,  from 
Thackeray,  Mrs.  Gaskell,  and  Ruskin.  No  letter  from  Mr. 
Williams.  I  feel  uneasy,  but  do  not  like  to  write.  The  Examiner  is 
very  sore  about  my  Preface,  because  I  did  not  m'ake  it  a  special 
exception  in  speaking  of  the  mass  of  critics.  The  soreness  is 
unfortunate  and  gratuitous,  for  in  my  mind  I  certainly  excepted 
it  Another  paper  shows  painful  sensitiveness  on  the  same 
account ;  but  it  does  not  matter — these  things  are  all  transitory. 
Write  very  soon.  Love  to  all. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  B. 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     187 

Letter  487 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

December  — ,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  thank  you  for  your  two  notes,  which  though 
unanswered,  are  not  unregarded.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  sick- 
ness here,  though  papa  continues  pretty  well,  and  so  do  I,  with 
the  exception  of  headaches  which  seem  to  beset  me  more  In 
Autumn  than  at  other  seasons.  Martha,  however,  has  been  very 
ill  some  days,  and  though  better,  is  still  in  bed  ;  this  makes  me 
busy,  as  her  sister  is  only  to  be  had  at  intervals.  Take  care  and 
keep  indoors  on  damp,  misty  days.  Amelia's  conduct  to  you 
always  strikes  me  as  giving  proof  of  a  genuinely  affectionate 
and  amiable  disposition.  I  duly  sent  my  card  to  the  newly 
married  pair  at  Hunsworth.  To-day's  fog  has  brought  me  a  sick 
headache,  under  the  influence  of  which  I  must  cut  short  this  note. 
— Yours  faithfully,  C.  B. 

Letter  488 

TO  JAMES  TAYLOR 

January  1st,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  am  sorry  there  should  have  occurred  an  irregu- 
larity in  the  transmission  of  the  papers  ;  it  has  been  owing  to  my 
absence  from  home.  I  trust  the  interruption  has  occasioned  no 
inconvenience.  Your  last  letter  evinced  such  a  sincere  and  dis- 
criminating admiration  for  Dr.  Arnold,  that  perhaps  you  will  not 
be  wholly  uninterested  in  hearing  that  during  my  late  visit  to 
Miss  Martineau  I  saw  much  more  of  Fox  How  and  its  inmates, 
and  daily  admired,  in  the  widow  and  children  of  one  of  the 
greatest  and  best  men  of  his  time,  the  possession  of  qualities  the 
most  estimable  and  endearing.  Of  my  kind  hostess  herself  I 
cannot  speak  in  terms  too  high.  Without  being  able  to  share  all 
her  opinions,  philosophical,  political,  or  religious,  without  adopt- 
ing her  theories,  I  yet  find  a  worth  and  greatness  in  herself,  and  a 
consistency,  benevolence,  perseverance  in  her  practice  such  as 
wins  the  sincerest  esteem  and  affection.  She  is  not  a  person  to 
be  judged  by  her  writings  alone,  but  rather  by  her  own  deeds  and 
life — than  which  nothing  can  be  more  exemplary  or  nobler.  She 


188  THE  BRONTES 

seems  to  me  the  benefactress  of  Ambleside,  yet  takes  no  sort  of 
credit  to  herself  for  her  active  and  indefatigable  philanthropy. 
The  government  of  her  household  is  admirably  administered  ;  all 
she  does  is  well  done,  from  the  writing  of  a  history  down  to  the 
quietest  female  occupation.  No  sort  of  carelessness  or  neglect  is 
allowed  under  her  rule,  and  yet  she  is  not  over  strict  nor  too 
rigidly  exacting ;  her  servants  and  her  poor  neighbours  love  as 
well  as  respect  hen 

I  must  not,  however,  fall  into  the  error  of  talking  too  much 
about  her,  merely  because  my  own  mind  is  just  now  deeply 
impressed  with  what  I  have  seen  of  her  intellectual  power  and 
moral  worth.  Faults  she  has,  but  to  me  they  appear  very  trivial 
weighed  in  the  balance  against  her  excellences. 

With  every  good  wish  of  the  season, — I  am,  my  dear  sir,  yours 
very  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  489 

TO  W.  S.   WILLIAMS 

January  Iff,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — May  I  beg  that  a  copy  of  Wuthering  Heights 
may  be  sent  to  Mrs,  Gaskell ;  her  present  address  is  3  Sussex 
Place,  Regent's  Park.  She  has  just  sent  me  the  Moorland  Cottage. 
I  felt  disappointed  about  the  publication  of  that  book,  having 
hoped  it  would  be  offered  to  Smith,  Elder  &  Co, ;  but  it  seems  she 
had  no  alternative,  as  it  was  Mr.  Chapman  himself  who  asked  her 
to  write  a  Christmas  book.  On  my  return  home  yesterday  week 
I  found  two  packets  from  Cornhill  directed  in  two  well-known 
hands  waiting  for  me.  You  are  all  very,  very  good. 

I  trust  to  have  derived  benefit  from  my  visit  to  Miss  Martineau. 
A  visit  more  interesting  I  certainly  never  paid.  If  self-sustaining 
strength  can  be  acquired  from  example,  I  ought  to  have  got  good. 
But  my  nature  is  not  hers ;  I  could  not  make  it  so  though  I  were 
to  submit  it  seventy  times  seven  to  the  furnace  of  affliction,  and 
discipline  it  for  an  age  under  the  hammer  and  anvil  of  toil  and 
self-sacrifice.  Perhaps  if  I  was  like  her  I  should  not  admire  her 
so  much  as  I  do.  She  is  somewhat  absolute,  though  quite  uncon- 
sciously so;  but  she  is  likewise  kind,  with  an  affection  at  once 
abrupt  and  constant,  whose  sincerity  you  cannot  doubt  It  was 
delightful  to  sit  near  her  In  the  evenings  and  hear  her  converse, 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     189 

myself  mute.  She  speaks  with  what  seems  to  me  a  wonderful 
fluency  and  eloquence.  Her  animal  spirits  are  as  unflagging 
as  her  intellectual  powers.  I  was  glad  to  find  her  health 
excellent.  I  believe  neither  solitude  nor  loss  of  friends  would 
break  her  down.  I  saw  some  faults  in  her,  but  somehow  I 
liked  them  for  the  sake  of  her  good  points.  It  gave  me  no 
pain  to  feel  insignificant,  mentally  and  corporeally,  in  compari- 
son with  her. 

Trusting  that  you  and  yours  are  well,  and  sincerely  wishing 
you  all  a  happy  new  year, — I  am,  my  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  490 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

January  St%9  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  sent  yesterday  the  Leader  newspaper,  which 
you  must  always  send  to  Hunsworth  as  soon  as  you  have  done 
with  it.  I  will  continue  to  forward  it  as  long  as  I  get  it. 

I  am  trying  the  wet  sheet,  and  like  it.  I  think  it  has  done  me 
good.  Enclosed  is  a  letter  received  a  few  days  since  from  Mr. 
Smith ;  I  wish  you  to  read  it  because  it  gives  a  very  fair  notion 
both  of  his  temper  and  mind.  Read,  return,  and  tell  me  what 
you  think  of  it. 

Thackeray  has  given  dreadful  trouble  by  his  want  of  punctuality, 
and  printers,  binders,  gilders,  and  colourers  have  tried  their 
patience.  Mr.  Williams  has  written  also :  he  says  if  Mr.  Smith 
had  not  helped  him  out  with  his  c  vigour,  energy,  and  method/  he 
must  have  sunk  under  the  day  and  night  labour  of  the  last  few 
weeks.  How  is  your  cough  ?  Write  soon.  C.  B. 

Letter  491 

TO   LJETITIA  WHEELWRIGHT 

HAWORTH,  January  i2t%,  1851. 

DEAR  L^STITIA, — A  spare  moment  must  and  shall  be  made 
for  you,  no  matter  how  many  letters  I  have  to  write  (and  just 
now  there  is  an  influx).  In  reply  to  your  kind  inquiries,  I  have 
to  say  that  my  stay  in  London  and  excursion  to  Scotland  did  me 
good — much  good  at  the  time ;  but  my  health  was  again  some- 
what sharply  tried  at  the  close  of  autumn,  and  I  lost  in  some  days 


190  THE  BRONTES 

of  Indisposition  the  additional  flesh  and  strength  I  had  previously 
gained.  This  resulted  from  the  painful  task  of  looking  over  letters 
and  papers  belonging  to  my  sisters.  Many  little  mementos  and 
memoranda  conspired  to  make  an  impression  inexpressibly  sad, 
which  solitude  deepened  and  fostered  till  I  grew  ill.  A  brief  trip 
to  Westmoreland  has,  however,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  revived  me 
again,  and  the  circumstance  of  papa  being  just  now  in  good  health 
and  spirits  gives  me  many  causes  for  gratitude.  When  we  have 
but  one  precious  thing  left  we  think  much  of  it. 

I  have  been  staying  a  short  time  with  Miss  Martineau.  As 
you  may  imagine,  the  visit  proved  one  of  no  common  interest. 
She  is  certainly  a  woman  of  wonderful  endowments,  both  intel- 
lectual and  physical,  and  though  I  share  few  of  her  opinions,  and 
regard  her  as  fallible  on  certain  points  of  judgment,  I  must  still 
accord  her  my  sincerest  esteem.  The  manner  in  which  she 
combines  the  highest  mental  culture  with  the  nicest  discharge  of 
feminine  duties  filled  me  with  admiration,  while  her  affectionate 
kindness  earned  my  gratitude. 

Your  description  of  the  magician  Paxton's  crystal  palace  is 
quite  graphic.  Whether  I  shall  see  it  or  not  I  don't  know. 
London  will  be  so  dreadfully  crowded  and  busy  this  season, 
I  feel  a  dread  of  going  there. 

Compelled  to  break  off,  I  have  only  time  to  offer  my  kindest 
remembrances  to  your  whole  circle,  and  my  love  to  yourself. — 
Yours  ever,  C.  BRONTE. 

It  was  during  this  visit  to  Ambleside  in  the  closing 
days  of  1 850  that  Charlotte  Bronte  and  Matthew  Arnold 
met. 

'  At  seven/  writes  Mr.  Arnold  from  Fox  How  (December 
21,  1850),  'came  Miss  Martineau  and  Miss  Bronte  (Jane 
Eyre) ;  talked  to  Miss  Martineau  (who  blasphemes  fright- 
fully) about  the  prospects  of  the  Church  of  England,  and, 
wretched  man  that  I  am,  promised  to  go  and  see  her  cow- 
keeping  miracles1  to-morrow — I,  who  hardly  know  a  cow 
from  a  sheep.  I  talked  to  Miss  Bronte  (past  thirty  and 
plain,  with  expressive  grey  eyes,  though)  of  her  curates,  of 
French  novels,  and  her  education  in  a  school  at  Brussels, 

1  Some  experiments  on  a  farm  of  two  acres. 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     191 

and  sent  the  lions  roaring  to  their  dens  at  half-past  nine, 
and  came  to  talk  to  you/1 

By  the  light  of  this  '  impression/  it  is  not  a  little  inter- 
esting to  see  what  Miss  Bronte,  '  past  thirty  and  plain/ 
thought  of  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold ! 

Letter  492 

TO  JAMES   TAYLOR,   CORNHILL 

January  i$f£,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  fancy  the  imperfect  way  in  which  my  last 
note  was  expressed  must  have  led  you  into  an  error,  and  that  you 
must  have  applied  to  Mrs.  Arnold  the  remarks  I  intended  for 
Miss  Martineau.  I  remember  whilst  writing  about  c  my  hostess* 
I  was  sensible  to  some  obscurity  in  the  term  j  permit  me  now  to 
explain  that  it  referred  to  Miss  Martineau. 

Mrs.  Arnold  is,  indeed,  as  I  judge  from  my  own  observations 
no  less  than  from  the  unanimous  testimony  of  all  who  really 
know  her,  a  good  and  amiable  woman,  but  the  intellectual  is  not 
her  forte,  and  she  has  no  pretensions  to  power  or  completeness 
of  character.  The  same  remark,  I  think,  applies  to  her  daughters. 
You  admire  in  them  the  kindliest  feeling  towards  each  other 
and  their  fellow-creatures,  and  they  offer  in  their  home  circle  a 
beautiful  example  of  family  unity,  and  of  that  refinement  which 
is  sure  to  spring  thence ;  but  when  the  conversation  turns  on 
literature  or  any  subject  that  offers  a  test  for  the  intellect,  you 
usually  felt  that  their  opinions  were  rather  imitative  than  original, 
rather  sentimental  than  sound.  Those  who  have  only  seen 
Mrs.  Arnold  once  will  necessarily,  I  think,  judge  of  her  unfavour- 
ably; her  manner  on  introduction  disappointed  me  sensibly,  as 
lacking  that  genuineness  and  simplicity  one  seemed  to  have  a 
right  to  expect  in  the  chosen  life-companion  of  Dr.  Arnold.  On 
my  remarking  as  much  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  and  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttle- 
worth,  I  was  told  for  my  consolation  it  was  a  *  conventional 
manner/  but  that  it  vanished  on  closer  acquaintance  ;  fortunately 
this  last  assurance  proved  true.  It  is  observable  that  Matthew 
Arnold,  the  eldest  son,  and  the  author  of  the  volume  of  poems 
to  which  you  allude,  inherits  his  mother's  defect.  Striking  and 
prepossessing  in  appearance,  his  manner  displeases  from  its 

1  Letters  of  Matthew  Arnold,  collected  and  arranged  by  George  W.  E.  Russell. 


192  THE  BRONTES 

seeming  foppery.  I  own  it  caused  me  at  first  to  regard  him  with 
regretful  surprise ;  the  shade  of  Dr.  Arnold  seemed  to  me  to 
frown  on  his  young  representative.  I  was  told,  however,  that 
£Mr.  Arnold  improved  upon  acquaintance.3  So  it  was:  ere  long 
a  real  modesty  appeared  under  his  assumed  conceit,  and  some 
genuine  intellectual  aspirations,  as  well  as  high  educational 
acquirements,  displaced  superficial  affectations.  I  was  given  to 
understand  that  his  theological  opinions  were  very  vague  and 
unsettled,  and  indeed  he  betrayed  as  much  in  the  course  of  con- 
versation. Most  unfortunate  for  him,  doubtless,  has  been  the 
untimely  loss  of  his  father. 

My  visit  to  Westmoreland  has  certainly  done  me  good>  Physi- 
cally, I  was  not  ill  before  I  went  there,  but  my  mind  had  under- 
gone some  painful  laceration.  In  the  course  of  looking  over  my 
sisters7  papers,  mementos,  and  memoranda,  that  would  have  been 
nothing  to  others,  conveyed  for  me  so  keen  a  sting.  Near  at 
hand  there  was  no  means  of  lightening  or  effacing  the  sad 
impression  by  refreshing  social  intercourse;  from  my  father,  of 
course,  my  sole  care  was  to  conceal  it — age  demanding  the  same 
forbearance  as  infancy  in  the  communication  of  grief.  Con- 
tinuous solitude  grew  more  than  I  could  bear,  and,  to  speak 
truth,  I  was  glad  of  a  change.  You  will  say  that  we  ought  to 
have  power  in  ourselves  either  to  bear  circumstances  or  to  bend 
them.  True,  we  should  do  our  best  to  this  end,  but  sometimes 
our  best  is  unavailing.  However,  1  am  better  now,  and  most 
thankful  for  the  respite. 

The  interest  you  so  kindly  express  in  tny  sisters'  works  touches 
me  home.  Thank  you  for  it,  especially  as  I  do  not  believe  you 
would  speak  otherwise  than  sincerely.  The  only  notices  that  I 
have  seen  of  the  new  edition  of  Wuthering  Heights  were  those  in 
the  Examiner,  the  Leader \  and  the  Athenaum.  That  in  the 

Athen&um  somehow  gave  me  pleasure :  it  is  quiet  but  respectful 

so  I  thought,  at  least 

You  asked  whether  Miss  Martineau  made  me  a  convert  to 
mesmerism  ?  Scarcely ;  yet  I  heard  miracles  of  its  efficacy  and 
could  hardly  discredit  the  whole  of  what  was  told  me.  I  even 
underwent  a  personal  experiment ;  and  though  the  result  was 
not  absolutely  clear,  it  was  inferred  that  in  time  I  should  prove 
an  excellent  subject. 

The  question  of  mesmerism  will  be  discussed  with  little  reserve, 
I  believe,  in  a  forthcoming  work  of  Miss  Martineau's,  and  I  have 


TWO  VISITS  TO  THE  ENGLISH  LAKES     193 

some  painful  anticipations  of  the  manner  in  which  other  subjects, 
offering  less  legitimate  ground  for  speculation,  will  be  handled. 

You  mention  the  Leader',  what  do  you  think  of  it?  I  have 
been  asked  to  contribute;  but  though  I  respect  the  spirit  of 
fairness  and  courtesy  in  which  it  is  on  the  whole  conducted,  its 
principles  on  some  points  are  such  that  I  have  hitherto  shrunk 
from  the  thought  of  seeing  my  name  in  its  columns. 

Thanking  you  for  your  good  wishes, — I  am,  my  dear  sir,  yours 
sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


VOL,  TT. 


N 


194  THE  BRONTES 

CHAPTER    XXV 

QUIET   DAYS  AT   HAWORTH 

FOUR  or  five  quiet  months  at  Haworth  preceded  Charlotte 
Bronte's  sixth  visit  to  London — the  most  interesting  that 
she  was  to  know.  The  period  was  noteworthy  mainly  on 
account  of  Mr.  James  Taylor's  assiduous  courtship  and  its 
defeat,  his  departure  from  England,  and  Charlotte's  self- 
analysis  thereon. 

Letter  493 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

January  20 tk,  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Thank  you  heartily  for  the  two  letters.  You 
seem  very  gay  at  present,  and  provided  you  only  take  care  not  to 
catch  cold  I  am  not  sorry  to  hear  it — a  little  movement,  cheer- 
fulness, stimulus,  is  not  only  beneficial  but  necessary. 

Your  last  letter  but  one,  dear  Ellen,  made  me  smile.  I  think 
the  undercurrent  simply  amounts  to  this — a  kind  of  natural  liking 
and  sense  of  something  congenial.  Were  there  no  vast  barrier  of 
fortune,  etc.,  etc.,  there  is  perhaps  enough  of  personal  regard  to 
make  things  possible  which  are  now  impossible.  If  men  and 
women  married  because  they  liked  each  other's  temper,  look, 
conversation,  nature,  and  so  on,  the  chance  you  allude  to  might 
be  admitted  as  a  chance,  but  other  reasons  regulate  matrimony, 
reasons  of  convenience,  of  connection,  of  money.  Meantime,  I  am 
content  to  have  him  as  a  friend,  and  pray  God  to  continue  to  me 
the  common-sense  to  look  on  one  so  young,  so  rising,  so  hopeful, 
in  no  other  light. 

That  hint  about  the  Rhine  disturbs  me ;  I  am  not  made  of 
stone,  and  what  Is  mere  excitement  to  him  is  fever  to  me.  How- 
ever it  is  a  matter  for  the  future,  and  long  to  look  forward  to. 
As  I  see  it  now,  the  journey  is  out  of  the  question,  for  many 
reasons.  I  cannot  conceive  either  his  mother  or  his  sisters 
relishing  it,  and  all  London  would  gabble  like  a  countless  host 
of  geese. 


QUIET  DAYS  AT  HAWORTH  195 

Good-bye,  dear  Nell.  Heaven  grant  us  both  some  quiet  wisdom, 
and  strength  not  merely  to  bear  the  trial  of  pain,  but  to  resist  the 
lure  of  pleasure  when  it  comes  in  such  a  shape  as  our  better 
judgment  disapproves.  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  494 

TO    ELLEN   NUSSEY 

January  302^,  1851. 

DEAR  NELL, — I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  that  Amelia  Is  again  so 
far  from  well — but  I  think  both  she  and  Joe  should  try  and  not 
be  too  anxious — even  if  matters  do  not  prosper  this  time,  all  may 
go  as  well  some  future  day.  I  think  it  is  not  these  early  mishaps 
that  break  the  constitution,  but  those  which  occur  in  a  much  later 
stage.  She  must  take  heart — there  may  yet  be  a  round  dozen 
of  little  Joe  Taylors  to  look  after — run  after — to  sort  and  switch 
and  train  up  in  the  way  they  should  go — that  is,  with  a  generous 
use  of  pickled  birch.  From  whom  do  you  think  I  have  received 
SL  couple  of  notes  lately?  From  Amelia  Woolen  They  are 
returned  from  the  Continent  it  seems,  and  are  now  at  Torquay. 
The  first  note  touched  me  a  little  by  what  I  thought  its  subdued 
tone — I  trusted  her  character  might  be  greatly  improved  ;  there 
were  indeed  traces  of  the  *  old  Adam/  but  such  as  I  was  willing 
to  overlook.  I  answered  her  soon  and  kindly,  in  reply  I  received 
to-day  a  longish  letter — full  of  claptrap  sentiment  and  humbugging 
attempts  at  fine  writing,  in  each  production  the  old  trading  spirit 
peeps  out ;  she  asks  for  autographs,  it  seems  she  had  read  in  some 
paper  that  I  was  staying  with  Miss  Martineau,  thereupon  she 
applies  for  specimens  of  her  handwriting  and  Wordsworth's,  and 
Southey's,  and  my  own.  The  account  of  her  health,  if  given  by 
any  one  else,  would  grieve  and  alarm  me ;  she  talks  of  fearing 
that  her  constitution  is  almost  broken  by  repeated  trials,  and 
intimates  a  doubt  as  to  whether  she  shall  live  long :  but  remem- 
"bering  her  of  old,  I  have  good  hopes  that  this  may  be  a  mistake. 
Her  ( beloved  Papa  and  Mama'  and  her  c precious  sister J  she  says 
are  living  and  'gradely' — (that  last  is  my  word,  I  don't  know 
^whether  they  use  it  in  Birstall  as  they  do  here,  it  means  in  a 
-middling  way). 

You  are  to  say  no  more  about  'Jupiter'  and  'Venus,'1  what  do 

1  George  Smith  and  Charlotte  Bronte.  It  was  frequently  stated  by  Ellen  Nnssey  and 
by  Sir  Wemyss  Reid  that  Mr.  Smith '  proposed  to  Charlotte  Bronte,  but  there  is  no  kind 
«of  evidence  of  this,  and  I  think  it  improbable* 


196  THE  BRONTES 

you  mean  by  such  heathen  trash  ?  The  fact  is,  no  fallacy  can  be 
wilder  and  I  won't  have  it  hinted  at  even  in  jest,  because  my 
common-sense  laughs  it  to  scorn.  The  idea  of  the  *  little  man ' 
shocks  me  less — it  would  be  a  more  likely  match  if  'matches' 
were  at  all  in  question,  which  they  are  not.  He  still  sends  his 
little  newspaper — and  the  other  day  there  came  a  letter  of  a  bulk, 
volume,  pith,  judgment  and  knowledge,  worthy  to  have  been  the 
product  of  a  giant.  You  may  laugh  as  much  and  as  wickedly  as 
you  please — but  the  fact  is  there  is  a  quiet  constancy  about  this, 
my  diminutive  and  red-haired  friend,  which  adds  a  foot  to  his 
stature — turns  his  sandy  locks  dark,  and  altogether  dignifies  him 
a  good  deal  in  my  estimation.  However,  I  am  not  bothered  by 
much  vehement  ardour — there  is  the  nicest  distance  and  respect 
preserved  now,  which  makes  matters  very  comfortable. 

This  is  all  nonsense — Nell — and  so  you  will  understand  it. — 
Yours  very  faithfully,  C.  B. 

Write  again  soon. 

The  name  of  Miss  Martineau's  coadjutor  is  Atkinson.  She- 
often- writes  to  me  with  exceeding  cordiality. 


Letter  495 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

February  ist,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR. — I  cannot  lose  any  time  in  telling  you  that 
your  letter,  after  all,  gave  me  heart-felt  satisfaction,  and  such  a. 
feeling  of  relief  as  it  would  be  difficult  to  express  in  words.  The 
fact  is;  what  goads  and  tortures  me  is  not  any  anxiety  of  my  own 
to  publish  another  book,  to  have  my  name  before  the  public,  to 
get  cash,  etc.,  but  a  haunting  fear  that  my  dilatoriness  disappoints- 
others.  Now  the  ' others7  whose  wish  on  the  subject  I  really 
care  for,  reduces  itself  to  my  father  and  Cornhill,  and  since  Corn- 
hill  ungrudgingly  counsels  me  to  take  my  own  time,  I  think  I  can 
pacify  such  impatience  as  my  dear  father  naturally  feels.  Indeed,, 
your  kind  and  friendly  letter  will  greatly  help  me. 

Since  writing  the  above,  I  have  read  your  letter  to  papa.  Your 
arguments  had  weight  with  him  :  he  approves,  and  I  am  content. 
I  now  only  regret  the  necessity  of  disappointing  the  Palladium, 
but  that  cannot  be  helped. — Good-bye,  my  dear  sir,  yours 
sincerely,  C,  BRONTE. 


QUIET  DAYS  AT  HA  WORTH  197 

Letter  496 

TO  JAMES   TAYLOR 

February  n/7z,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Have  you  yet  read  Miss  Martineau's  and 
Mr.  Atkinson's  new  work,  Letters  on  the  Nature  and  Development 
of  Man.  If  you  have  not,  it  would  be  worth  your  while  to  do  so. 
Of  the  impression  this  book  has  made  on  me  I  will  not  now 
say  much.  It  is  the  first  exposition  of  avowed  Atheism  and 
Materialism  I  have  ever  read  ;  the  first  unequivocal  declaration 
of  disbelief  in  the  existence  of  a  God  or  a  Future  Life  I  have  ever 
seen.  In  judging  of  such  exposition  and  declaration  one  would 
wish  entirely  to  put  aside  the  sort  of  instinctive  horror  they 
awaken,  and  to  consider  them  in  an  impartial  spirit  and  collected 
mood.  This  I  find  it  difficult  to  do.  The  strangest  thing  is  that 
we  are  called  on  to  rejoice  over  this  hopeless  blank,  to  receive  this 
bitter  bereavement  as  great  gain,  to  welcome  this  unutterable 
desolation  as  a  state  of  pleasant  freedom.  Who  could  do  this  If 
he  would  ?  Who  would  do  it  if  he  could  ? 

Sincerely — for  my  own  part — do  I  wish  to  find  and  know  the 
Truth,  but  if  this  be  Truth,  well  may  she  guard  herself  with 
mysteries  and  cover  herself  with  a  veil.  If  this  be  Truth,  Man  or 
Woman  who  beholds  her  can  but  curse  the  day  he  or  she  was 
born.  I  said,  however,  I  would  not  dwell  on  what  I  thought ;  I 
wish  rather  to  hear  what  some  other  person  thinks ;  some  one 
whose  feelings  are  unapt  to  bias  his  judgment.  Read  the  book, 
then,  in  an  unprejudiced  spirit,  and  candidly  say  what  you  think 
of  it ;  I  mean,  of  course,  if  you  have  time,  not  otherwise. 

Thank  you  for  your  last  letter ;  it  seemed  to  me  very  good ; 
with  all  you  said  about  the  Leader  I  entirely  agree. — Believe  me, 
my  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  497 

TO   ELLEN  NUSSEY 

February  26^,  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — You  ought  always  to  conclude  that  when  I 
don't  write,  it  is  simply  because  I  have  nothing  particular  to  say. 
Be  sure  that  ill  news  will  travel  fast  enough,  and  good  news  too 
when  such  commodity  comes.  If  I  could  often  be  or  seem  to  be 
in  brisk  spirits — I  might  write  oftener,  but  as  times  go,  a  glimpse 
of  sunshine  now  and  then  Is  as  much  as  one  has  a  right  to  expect. 
However,  I  get  on,  very  decently. 


198  THE  BRONTES 

I  am  now  and  then  tempted  to  break  through  my  resolution  of 
not  asking  you  to  come  before  summer,  and  to  ask  you  to  come 
to  this  Patmos  in  a  week  or  two,  but  it  would  be  dull — very  dull 
for  you.  I  also  received  a  letter  from  Mary  Taylor,  written  not 
in  high  spirits,  but  still  showing  hopeful  prospects.  Also  one 
from  Ellen  Taylor,  by  which  I  think  her  health  must  be  better. 
Is  Mrs.  Joe  Taylor  out  of  bed  yet?  and,  especially,  is  she  out  of 
danger  of  the  apprehended  mishap  ?  I  was  not  seriously  vexed 
about  your  telling  her  of  my  prediction,  only  momentarily 
annoyed,  because  I  knew,  of  course,  from  her  it  would  go  to  her 
spouse — and  it  was  not  precisely  the  thing  one  would  have  said  to 
him  *  however,  I  put  a  good  face  on  it,  and  repeated  it  with  addi- 
tions to  herself. 

I  hope  Mary's  trip  from  home  will  do  her  good,  both  physically 
and  mentally.  I  return  Mrs.  Gorham's  letter ;  it  is  very  kind  and 
complimentary.  What  would  you  say  to  coming  here  the  week 
after  next,  to  stay  only  just  so  long  as  you  could  comfortably 
bear  the  monotony.  If  the  weather  were  fine  and  the  moors  dry 
I  should  not  mind  so  much,  we  could  walk  for  change. — Yours 
faithfully,  C.  B. 

Letter  498 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

WELLINGTON,  March  iit/i,  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Your  letter  made  me  ashamed  of  myself,  as  it 
reminded  me  how  long  I  have  neglected  answering  your  letters. 
I  am  now  going  to  answer  it  sentence  by  sentence  as  I  should  do 
if  I  could  sit  down  and  write  the  moment  I  read  it.  I  am  glad 
Joe  has  taken  it  into  his  head  to  marry  some  one  who  knows  my 
friends  and  who  is  therefore  likely  to  learn  to  think  well  of  me, 
I  hope  you  will,  both  you  and  Charlotte  Bronte,  keep  up  your 
acquaintance  with  Amelia,  and  each  of  you  send  news  of  the 
other  as  good  as  you  can  find  to  write. 

It  must  be  gloomy  indeed  for  Charlotte  to  see  her  father's 
health  declining.  It  is  frightful  to  see  death  coming  to  take  the 
last,  and  one  can  scarcely  calculate  the  effects  on  a  weakened, 
painstruck  mind  like  Charlotte's.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  the 
triumphs  she  has  had,  had  only  opened  to  her  new  sources  of 
pain.  She  thinks  or  rather  feels  more  of  the  criticism  than  the 
praise.  In  spite  of  her  strenuous  endeavour  she  cannot  look  at 


QUIET  DAYS  AT  HA  WORTH 

the  cheerful  side  for  sadness  at  present  with  her.  You  yourself 
seem  in  much  better  spirits.  How  do  you  manage  it  ? 

I  wish  you  were  sitting  here  by  this  quiet  candle-light,  and  I 
would  talk  to  you  by  the  hour  of  how  we  were  getting  on.  How 
we  were  looking  for  a  ship  from  England — what  we  sold  to-day. 
How  intend  to  do  when  the  said  ship  comes  and  we  have  no 
room  or  next  to  none  to  put  the  things  she  is  to  bring.  How 
eagerly  we  open  the  packages  and  scold  for  all  the  things  that 
are  not  according  to  order.  How  we  work !  and  lift,  and  carry, 
and  knock  boxes  open  as  if  we  were  carpenters  by  trade ;  and 
sit  down  in  the  midst  of  the  mess  when  we  are  quite  tired,  and 
ask  what  time  it  is,  and  find  it  is  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  and 
we've  forgotten  our  dinner!  And  then  we  settle  to  have  some 
tea  and  eggs,  and  go  on  reading  letters  all  the  time  we're  eating, 
and  don't  give  over  working  till  bedtime,  and  take  a  new  number 
of  David  Copperfield  to  bed  with  us  and  drop  asleep  at  the  second 
page, 

In  quieter  times  we  are  somewhat  lazy.  There  is  not  more 
than  employment  for  one.  As  we  don't  keep  the  house  particu- 
larly tidy,  the  other  one  might  do  a  great  deal.  But  somehow 
not  being  forced  to  it,  we  never  do  it  We  ought  to  go  out 
and  draw  (ask  Joe  to  show  you  our  last  wonders  in  that  way), 
but  we  find  it  dull  going  alone.  Then  perhaps  we  ought  to 
write,  but  don't  like,  for  we  might  possibly  be  interrupted.  We 
see  some  company — not  much,  but  I  think  much  better  than  we 
should  in  the  same  circumstances  In  England.  Classes  are  forced 
to  mix  more  here,  or  there  would  be  no  society  at  all.  This 
circumstance  is  much  to  our  advantage,  for  there  are  not  many 
educated  people  of  our  standing.  The  women  are  the  same 
everywhere,  never  educated,  and  so  far  as  female  friends  go,  I 
think  our  present  set  have  as  much  principle  and  kindness  as 
most  of  those  we  left,  while  they  have  certainly  more  energy. 
You  need  not  tell  the  Birstallians  my  opinion  of  them.  Probably 
they  are  not  worse  than  other  women,  but  never  called  upon  to 
stand  alone  or  allowed  to  act  for  themselves,  of  course  they  lose 
their  wits  in  time.  Don't  lose  my  letter  in  Church  Lane  or 
thereabouts.  Some  one  writes  to  know  if  it  is  true  that  Miss 
Bronte  was  jilted  by  a  curate — or  by  three  in  succession,  I  forgot 
which — pray  ask  her!  I  have  told  people  of  my  acquaintance 
with  the  writer  of  Jane  Eyre,  and  gained  myself  a  great  literary 
reputation  thereby.  Mama  has  written  to  Waring  abusing  Miss 


200  THE  BRONTES 

Bronte  for  writing  Shirley,  and  Waring  thereupon  asked  to  read 
it.  He  says  the  characters  are  all  unfaithful,  and  stoutly  denies 
that  ever  my  father  talked  broad  Yorkshire.  He  seems  to  have 
forgotten  home  altogether.  He  once  described  minutely  how  he 
should  like  to  have  a  room  finished  and  furnished  if  he  were  rich ; 
and  he  described  our  old  dining-room  in  every  point,  and  said  he 
didn't  know  he  'd  ever  seen  such  a  room  !  He  has  a  house  of  his 
own  now  and  wife  and  children,  none  of  whom  ever  saw  Gomersal 
nor  ever  will  do!  We're  getting  old,  Ellen,  and  out  of  date! 
Fare  thee  well  till  another  quiet  evening.  M.  TAYLOR. 

Letter  499 

TO  JAMES  TAYLOR,  CORNHILL 

March  22#4  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Yesterday  I  despatched  a  box  of  books  to 
Cornhill,  including  the  number  of  the  North  British  Review 
which  you  kindly  lent  me,  The  article  to  which  you  particularly 
directed  my  attention  was  read  with  pleasure  and  interest,  and 
if  I  do  not  now  discuss  it  more  at  length,  it  is  because  I  am 
well  aware  how  completely  your  attention  must  be  at  present 
engrossed,  since,  if  I  rightly  understood  a  brief  paragraph  in 
Mr.  Smith's  last  note,  you  are  now  on  the  eve  of  quitting  England 
for  India. 

I  will  limit  myself,  then,  to  the  expression  of  a  sincere  wish 
for  your  welfare  and  prosperity  in  this  undertaking,  and  to  the 
hope  that  the  great  change  of  climate  will  bring  with  it  no 
corresponding  risk  to  health.  I  should  think  you  will  be  missed 
in  Cornhill,  but  doubtless  *  business '  is  a  Moloch  which  demands 
such  sacrifices. 

I  do  not  know  when  you  go,  nor  whether  your  absence  is  likely 
to  be  permanent  or  only  for  a  time ;  whichever  it  be,  accept  my 
best  wishes  for  your  happiness,  and  my  farewell,  if  I  should  not 
again  have  the  opportunity  of  addressing  you.  —  Believe  me, 
sincerely  yours,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  500 

TO  JAMES  TAYLOR,  CORNHILL 

March  24^,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  had  written  briefly  to  you  before  I  received 
yours,  but  I  fear  the  note  would  not  reach  you  in  time.  I  will 


QUIET  DAYS  AT  HA  WORTH  201 

now  only  say  that  both  my  father  and  myself  will  have  pleasure 
in  seeing  you  on  your  return  from  Scotland — a  pleasure 
tinged  with  sadness  certainly,  as  all  partings  are,  but  still  a 
pleasure. 

I  do  most  entirely  agree  with  you  in  what  you  say  about 
Miss  Martineau's  and  Mr.  Atkinson's  book.  I  deeply  regret  its 
publication  for  the  lady's  sake ;  it  gives  a  death-blow  to  her 
future  usefulness.  Who  can  trust  the  word,  or  rely  on  the 
judgment,  of  an  avowed  atheist? 

May  your  decision  in  the  crisis  through  which  you  have  gone 
result  in  the  best  effect  on  your  happiness  and  welfare ;  and 
indeed,  guided  as  you  are  by  the  wish  to  do  right  and  a  high 
sense  of  duty,  I  trust  it  cannot  be  otherwise.  The  change  of 
climate  is  all  I  fear  ;  but  Providence  will  overrule  this  too  for 
the  best — in  Him  you  can  believe  and  on  Him  rely.  You  will 
want,  therefore,  neither  solace  nor  support,  though  your  lot  be 
cast  as  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land. — I  am,  yours  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTE. 

When  you  shall  have  definitely  fixed  the  time  of  your  return 
southward,  write  me  a  line  to  say  on  what  day  I  may  expect  you 
at  Haworth.  C.  B. 

Letter  501 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

April  ^th,  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Mr.  Taylor  has  been  and  is  gone ;  things  are 
just  as  they  were.  I  only  know  in  addition  to  the  slight  informa- 
tion I  possessed  before,  that  this  Indian  undertaking  is  necessary 
to  the  continued  prosperity  of  the  firm  of  Smith,  Elder  &  Co., 
and  that  he,  Taylor,  alone  was  pronounced  to  possess  the  power 
and  means  to  carry  it  out  successfully — that  mercantile  honour, 
combined  with  his  own  sense  of  duty,  obliged  him  to  accept  the 
post  of  honour  and  of  danger  to  which  he  has  been  appointed, 
that  he  goes  with  great  personal  reluctance,  and  that  he  contem- 
plates an  absence  of  five  years. 

He  looked  much  thinner  and  older.  I  saw  him  very  near  and 
once  through  my  glass ;  the  resemblance  to  Branwell  struck  me 
forcibly,  it  is  marked.  He  is  not  ugly,  but  very  peculiar;  the 
lines  in  his  face  show  an  inflexibility,  and  I  must  add,  a  hardness 
of  character  which  do  not  attract.  As  he  stood  near  me,  as  he 


202  THE  BRONTES 

looked  at  me  in  his  keen  way,  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  stand  my 
ground  tranquilly  and  steadily,  and  not  to  recoil  as  before.  It  Is 
no  use  saying  anything  If  I  am  not  candid — I  avow  then,  that  on 
this  occasion,  predisposed  as  I  was  to  regard  him  very  favourably 
— his  manners  and  his  personal  presence  scarcely  pleased  me 
more  than  at  the  first  interview.  He  gave  me  a  book  at  parting, 
requesting  In  his  brief  way,  that  I  would  keep  it  for  his  sake,  and 
adding  hastily,  ( I  shall  hope  to  hear  from  you  In  India — your 
letters  have  been,  and  will  be  a  greater  refreshment  than  you  can 
think  or  I  can  tell.' 

And  so  he  is  gone,  and  stern  and  abrupt  little  man  as  he  is — 
too  often  jarring  as  are  his  manners — his  absence  and  the  exclu- 
sion of  his  idea  from  my  mind — leave  me  certainly  with  less 
support  and  in  deeper  solitude  than  before. 

You  see,  dear  Nell — we  are  still  precisely  on  the  same  level — 
you  are  not  isolated.  I  feel  that  there  is  a  certain  mystery  about 
this  transaction  yet,  and  whether  it  will  ever  be  cleared  up  to  me 
I  do  not  know ;  however,  my  plain  duty  is  to  wean  my  mind 
from  the  subject,  and  If  possible  to  avoid  pondering  over  it.  In 
his  conversation  he  seemed  studiously  to  avoid  reference  to  Mr. 
Smith  Individually — speaking  always  of  the  f house,' — the  'firm/ 
He  seemed  throughout  quite  as  excited  and  nervous  as  when  I 
first  saw  him.  I  feel  that  in  his  way  he  has  a  regard  for  me  ;  a 
regard  which  I  cannot  bring  myself  entirely  to  reciprocate  in 
kind,  and  yet  Its  withdrawal  leaves  a  painful  blank. 

Saturday  Morning. 

I  have  got  your  note.  I  fear  your  journey  home  must  have 
sadly  fagged  you,  but  I  trust  that  in  a  day  or  two  you  will  begin 
to  feel  the  benefits  of  the  change.  What  endless  trouble  that 
unlucky  little  Flossy  gives  you  !  how  strange  that  in  her  trouble 
she  should  nestle  Into  your  portmanteau  !  little  vermin ! 

Above  you  have  all  the  account  of  *  my  visitor ' ;  I  dare  not 
aver  that  your  kind  wish  that  the  visit  would  yield  me  more 
pleasure  than  pain  has  been  fulfilled — something  at  my  heart 
aches  and  gnaws  drearily,  but  I  must  cultivate  fortitude.  Papa, 
I  am  thankful  to  say,  is  a  little  better,  though  he  improves  but 
slowly  ;  he  and  Mr.  Taylor  got  on  very  well  together,  much  better 
than  the  first  time. 

Write  to  me  again  very  soon. — Yours  faithfully,  C  B. 


QUIET  DAYS  AT  HA  WORTH  20a 

Letter  502 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

April  ^tk,  1851. 

DEAR  NELL, — Thank  you  for  your  kind  note  ;  it  was  just  like 
you  to  write  it  though  it  was  your  school-day.  I  never  knew 
you  to  let  a  slight  impediment  stand  in  the  way  of  a  friendly 
action. 

Certainly  I  shall  not  soon  forget  last  Friday,  and  never >  I  think, 
the  evening  and  night  succeeding  that  morning  and  afternoon. 
Evils  seldom  come  singly — and  soon  after  Mr.  Taylor  was  gone, 
papa,  who  had  been  better,  grew  much  worse ;  he  went  to  bed 
early  and  was  very  sick  and  ill  for  an  hour,  and  when  at  last  he 
began  to  doze,  and  I  left  him,  I  came  down  to  the  dining-room 
with  a  sense  of  weight,  fear,  and  desolation,  hard  to  express  and 
harder  to  endure.  A  wish  that  you  were  with  me  did  cross  my 
mind,  but  I  repulsed  it  as  a  most  selfish  wish;  indeed  it  was  only 
short-lived,  my  natural  tendency  in  moments  of  this  sort  is  to  get 
through  the  struggle  alone — to  think  that  one  is  burdening  and 
racking  others  makes  all  worse. 

You  speak  to  me  in  soft  consolating  accents,  but  I  hold  far 
sterner  language  to  myself,  dear  Nell. 

An  absence  of  five  years — a  dividing  expanse  of  three  oceans — 
the  wide  difference  between  a  man's  active  career  and  a  woman's 
passive  existence  —  these  things  are  almost  equivalent  to  an 
eternal  separation.  But  there  is  another  thing  which  forms  a 
barrier  more  difficult  to  pass  than  any  of  these.  Would  Mr. 
Taylor  and  I  ever  suit  ?  Could  I  ever  feel  for  him  enough  love 
to  accept  him  as  a  husband?  Friendship — gratitude — esteem  I 
have,  but  each  moment  he  came  near  me,  and  that  I  could  see 
his  eyes  fastened  on  me,  my  veins  ran  ice.  Now  that  he  is  axvay 
I  feel  far  more  gently  towards  him,  it  is  only  close  by  that  I  grow 
rigid — stiffening  with  a  strange  mixture  of  apprehension  and 
anger — which  nothing  softens  but  his  retreat  and  a  perfect  sub- 
duing of  his  manner.  I  did  not  want  to  be  proud,  nor  intend  to 
be  proud,  but  I  was  forced  to  be  so. 

Most  true  is  it  that  we  are  overruled  by  one  above  us — 
that  in  His  hands  our  very  will  is  as  clay  in  the  hands  of  the 
potter. 

Papa  continues  very  far  from  well,  though  yesterday,  and  I 


204  THE  BRONTES 

hope  this  morning,  he  is  a  little  better.  How  is  your  mother? 
give  my  love  to  her  and  your  sisters  ;  how  are  you?  Have  you 
suffered  from  tic  since  you  returned  home — did  they  think  you 
improved  in  looks? 

Write  again  soon.— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  503 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

April  I2th>  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  truly  glad  that  the  books  I  sent  have 
been  of  use  to  your  mother.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  her 
health  should  vary  in  this  weather.  I  trust  papa  is  not  worse., 
but  he  too  varies ;  he  has  never  been  down  to  breakfast  but  once 
since  you  left ;  the  inflammatory  action  seems  more  about  the 
stomach,  and  less  in  the  throat  and  chest  than  last  spring.  I 
would  fain  believe  this  is  better.  The  circumstance  of  having 
him  to  think  about  just  now  is  good  for  me  in  one  way,  it  keeps 
my  thoughts  off  other  matters  which  have  become  complete 
bitterness  and  ashes.  I  do  assure  you,  dear  Nell,  a  more  entire 
crumbling  away  of  a  seeming  foundation  of  support  and  prospect 
of  hope  than  that  which  I  allude  to,  can  scarcely  be  realised.  In 
my  own  mind,  I  am,  I  think,  satisfied  of  that.  We  will  say  no 
more  about  it. 

By  the  bye,  I  meant  to  ask  you  when  you  went  to  Leeds,  to 
do  a  small  errand  for  me,  but  fear  your  hands  will  be  too  full  of 
business.  It  is  merely  this :  in  case  you  chanced  to  be  in  any 
shop  where  the  lace  cloaks,  both  black  and  white,  of  which  I 
spoke,  were  sold,  to  ask  their  price.  I  suppose  they  would 
hardly  like  to  send  a  few  to  Haworth  to  be  looked  at ;  indeed, 
if  they  cost  very  much,  it  would  be  useless,  but  if  they  are 
reasonable  and  they  would  send  them,  I  should  like  to  see 
them  ;  and  also  some  chemisettes  of  small  size  (the  full  woman's 
size  does  not  fit  me),  both  of  simple  style,  for  every  day  and  for 
best. 

Write,  dear  Ellen,  whenever  you  have  time.  I  am  keeping  up 
as  well  as  ever  I  can,  but  I  dare  not  say  I  am  happy,  or  see  before 
me  any  very  happy  prospect  in  the  future,  but  I  must  remember 
thousands  are  worse  off  than  I  am.— -Yours  faithfully,  C.  B. 


QUIET  DAYS  AT  HA  WORTH  205 

Letter  504 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

April  lyd,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — It  appears  I  could  not  rest  satisfied  when  I 
was  well  off,  I  told  you  I  had  taken  one  of  the  black  lace 
mantles,  but  when  I  came  to  try  it  with  the  black  satin  dress, 
with  which  I  should  chiefly  want  to  wear  it,  I  found  the  effect 
was  far  from  good  ;  the  beauty  of  the  lace  was  lost,  and  it  looked 
somewhat  brown  and  rusty ;  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Stocks,  requesting 
him  to  change  it  for  a  white  mantle  of  the  same  price ;  he  was 
extremely  courteous,  and  sent  to  London  for  one,  which  I  have 
got  this  morning.  The  price  is  less,  being  but  £i,  143.;  It  is 
pretty,  neat  and  light,  looks  well  on  black ;  and  upon  reasoning 
the  matter  over,  I  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  it  would  be  no 
shame  for  a  person  of  my  means  to  wear  a  cheaper  thing ;  so  I 
think  I  shall  take  It,  and  if  you  ever  see  it  and  call  it  *  trumpery ' 
so  much  the  worse. 

I  have  heard  from  Mr.  Taylor  to-day,  a  quiet  little  note ;  he 
returned  to  London  a  week  since  on  Saturday,  he  has  since  kindly 
chosen  and  sent  me  a  parcel  of  books.  He  leaves  England 
May  2Oth ;  his  note  concludes  with  asking  whether  he  has  any 
chance  of  seeing  me  in  London  before  that  time.  T  must  tell  him 
that  I  have  already  fixed  June  for  my  visit,  and  therefore,  in  all 
human  probability  we  shall  see  each  other  no  more. 

There  is  still  a  want  of  plain,  mutual  understanding  in  this 
business,  and  there  is  sadness  and  pain  In  more  ways  than  one. 
My  conscience,  I  can  truly  say,  does  not  now  accuse  me  of  having 
treated  Mr.  Taylor  with  Injustice  or  unkindness.  What  I  once 
did  wrong  in  this  way,  I  have  endeavoured  to  remedy  both  to 
himself  and  in  speaking  of  him  to  others,  Mr.  Smith  to  wit, 
though  I  more  than  doubt  whether  that  last  opinion  will  ever 
reach  him  ;  I  am  sure  he  has  estimable  and  sterling  qualities,  but 
with  every  disposition  and  with  every  wish,  with  every  Intention 
even,  to  look  on  him  in  the  most  favourable  point  of  view  at  his 
last  visit,  It  was  impossible  to  me  in  my  inward  heart,  to  think  of 
him  as  one  that  might  one  day  be  acceptable  as  a  husband.  It 
would  sound  harsh  were  I  to  tell  even  you  of  the  estimate  I  felt 
compelled  to  form  respecting  him ;  dear  Nell,  I  looked  for  some- 
thing of  the  gentleman — something  I  mean  of  the  natural 


206  THE  BRONTES 

gentleman ;  you  know  I  can  dispense  with  acquired  polish,  and 
for  looks,  I  know  myself  too  well  to  think  that  I  have  any  right 
to  be  exacting  on  that  point.  I  could  not  find  one  gleam,  I  could 
not  see  one  passing  glimpse,  of  true  good-breeding  ;  it  is  hard  to 
say,  but  it  is  true.  In  mind  too  ;  though  clever,  he  is  second-rate  ; 
thoroughly  second-rate.  One  does  not  like  to  say  these  things, 
but  one  had  better  be  honest.  Were  I  to  marry  him,  my  heart 
would  bleed  in  pain  and  humiliation ;  I  could  not,  could  not  look 
up  to  him.  No — if  Mr.  Taylor  be  the  only  husband  fate  offers  to 
me,  single  I  must  always  remain.  But  yet,  at  times  I  grieve  for 
him,  and  perhaps  it  is  superfluous,  for  I  cannot  think  hexvill  suffer 
much ;  a  hard  nature,  occupation  and  change  of  scene  will  be- 
friend him. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  have  lost  that  horrid  tic,  and  hope 
your  cold  is  by  this  time  well.  Papa  continues  much  better. 
— With  kind  regards  to  all,  I  am,  dear  Nell,  your  middle-aged 
friend,  C.  BRONTE. 

Write  soon. 

Letter  505 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

May'$th,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — I  hope  Mercy  has  got  well  off  on  her 
travels  by  this,  and  left  you  to  a  little  repose ;  I  hope  the  change 
may  do  good,  and  that  it  may  please  Providence  to  prolong  it 
for  the  benefit  of  all  parties.  How  has  your  mother  borne  the 
cold  weather  of  last  week  ?  It  made  papa  somewhat  worse,  but 
he  is  better  now.  Still  I  don't  like  to  leave  him,  and  have  quite 
made  up  my  mind  to  put  off  the  visit  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  till  my 
return  from  London,  though  that  last  will  depend  upon  papa's 
health  of  course. 

I  have  had  a  long  kind  letter  from  Miss  Martineau  lately.  She 
says  she  is  well  and  happy.  Also,  I  have  had  a  very  long  letter 
from  Mr.  Williams.  He  speaks  with  much  respect  of  Mr.  Taylor. 
I  discover  with  some  surprise,  papa  has  taken  a  decided  liking  to 
Mr.  Taylor.  The  marked  kindness  of  his  manner  when  he  bid 
liim  good-bye,  exhorting  him  to  be  £  true  to  himself,  his  country 
and  his  God/  and  wishing  him  all  good  wishes,  struck  me  with 
some  astonishment.  Whenever  he  has  alluded  to  him  since,  it 
lias  beerjr  w"^fa  significant  eulogy.  When  I  alluded  that  he  was 


QUIET  DAYS  AT  HAWOHTH  207 

no  gentleman,  he  seemed  out  of  patience  with  me  for  the  objec- 
tion. You  say  papa  has  penetration.  On  this  subject  I  believe 
he  has  indeed.  I  have  told  him  nothing,  yet  he  seems  to  be  au 
fait  to  the  whole  business.  I  could  think  at  some  moments  his 
guesses  go  farther  than  mine.  I  believe  he  thinks  a  prospective 
union,  deferred  for  five  years,  with  such  a  decorous  reliable  person- 
age, would  be  a  very  proper  and  advisable  affair. 

How  has  your  tic  been  lately?  I  had  one  fiery  night  when 
this  same  dragon  £  tic '  held  me  for  some  hours  with  pestilent 
violence.  It  still  comes  at  intervals  with  unabated  fury;  owing 
to  this  and  broken  sleep,  I  am  looking  singularly  charming,  one 
of  my  true  London  looks,  starved  out  and  worn  down.  Write 
soon,  dear  Nell. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

I  enclose  a  letter  of  Mr.  Morgan's  to  papa,  written  just  after  he 
had  read  Shirley.  It  is  curious  to  see  the  latent  feeling  roused 
in  the  old  gentleman.  I  was  especially  struck  by  his  remark 
about  the  chapter  entitled  :  *  The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death, 
etc.'  He  must  have  had  a  true  sense  of  what  he  read,  or  he  could 
not  have  made  it. 


Letter  506 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

May  iQth,  1851. 

DEAR  NELL, — Poor  little  Flossy !  I  have  not  yet  screwed  up 
nerve  to  tell  papa  about  her  fate,  it  seems  to  me  so  piteous. 
However,  she  had  a  happy  life  with  a  kind  mistress,  whatever  her 
death  has  been.  Little  hapless  plague !  She  had  more  goodness 
and  patience  shown  her  than  she  deserved,  I  fear.  Joe  Taylor 
is  a  noodle.  Amelia  draws  very  heavily  on  good-nature  and 
forbearance,  she  must  be  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  a  *  cross  to 
take  up.'  Comfort,  or  pleasure  even,  I  fear,  peace  and  safety  will 
never  be  had  out  of  her ;  of  ordeal  and  discipline  she  has  given 
plenty,  and  will  give  yet  more.  I  suppose  that  is  her  use — to 
test  and  try  others  like  a  fiery  furnace. 

Do  you  know  that  I  was  in  Leeds  on  the  very  same  day  with 
you,  last  Wednesday  ?  I  had  thought  of  telling  you  when  I  was 
going,  and  having  your  help  and  company  in  buying  a  bonnet, 
etc.,  but  then  I  reflected  this  would  merely  be  making  a  selfish 
use  of  you,  so  I  determined  to  manage  or  mismanage  the  matter 


208  THE  BRONTES 

alone.  I  went  to  Hunt  and  Hall's  for  the  bonnet,  and  got  one, 
which  seemed  grave  and  quiet  there  amongst  all  the  splendours ; 
but  now  it  looks  infinitely  too  gay  with  its  pink  lining.  I  saw 
some  beautiful  silks  of  pale  sweet  colours,  but  had  not  the  spirit 
or  the  means  to  launch  out  at  the  rate  of  five  shillings  per  yard, 
and  went  and  bought  a  black  silk  at  three  shillings  after  all.  I 
rather  regret  this,  because  papa  says  he  would  have  lent  me  a 
sovereign  if  he  had  known.  I  believe,  if  you  had  been  there,  you 
would  have  forced  me  to  get  into  debt.  Write  soon  again. 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  507 

TO  ELLEN    NUSSEY 

May  2isf,  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  really  can  no  more  come  to  Brookroyd  before 
I  can  go  to  London  than  I  can  fly.  I  have  quantities  of  sewing 
to  do,  as  well  as  household  matters  to  arrange  before  I  leave,  as 
they  will  clean,  etc.,  in  my  absence.  Besides,  I  am  grievously 
oppressed  with  headache,  which  I  trust  to  change  of  air  for 
relieving ;  but  meantime,  as  it  proceeds  from  the  stomach,  it 
makes  me  very  thin  and  grey  ;  neither  you  nor  anybody  else 
could  fatten  me  up,  or  put  me  into  good  condition  for  the  visit ; 
it  is  fated  otherwise.  No  matter.  Calm  your  passion  ;  yet  I  am 
glad  to  see  it.  Such  spirit  seems  to  prove  health.  Good-bye; 
in  haste,  •  C.  BRONTE. 

Your  mother  is  like  Tabby,  Martha,  and  papa ;  all  these  fancy 
I  am  somehow,  by  some  mysterious  process,  to  be  married  in 
London,  or  to  engage  myself  to  matrimony.  How  I  smile 
internally  !  How  groundless  and  impossible  is  the  idea !  Papa 
seriously  told  me  yesterday,  that  if  I  married  and  left  him,  he 
should  give  up  house-keeping  and  go  into  lodgings  1 

Letter  508 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

May  -z-znd)  '51. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  hope  you  will  have  got  Mercy  home  before 
this.  How  is  she?  I  trust  better  bodily  and  mentally  for  her 
visit.  I  hope,  too,  that  you  and  your  mother  are  well.  Papa's 


QUIET  DAYS  AT  HAWOI1TH  209 

state  of  health  gives  me  much  cause  for  thankfulness  ;  if  he  con- 
tinues  so  well,  I  shall  be  able  to  leave  him  with  comparatively 
little  anxiety.  For  my  own  part,  headaches  and  occasional 
sickness  annoy  me.  I  shall  go  to  London  with  nothing  to  boast 
of  in  looks ;  however  careful  I  am  in  diet,  my  stomach  will  not 
keep  right. 

Next  Thursday  is  the  day  now  fixed  for  my  going.  I  have 
heard  again  from  Mr.  Smith  and  his  mother.  I  would  send 
you  the  notes,  only  that  I  fear  your  comments  ;  you  do  not 
read  them  by  my  lights,  and  would  see  more  in  an  impetuous 
expression  of  quite  temporary  satisfaction,  than  strict  reality 
justifies. 

Are  the  Hunsworth  doves  yet  on  the  wing,  or  are  they 
returned  to  the  conjugal  nest?  They  have  had  fine  weather 
part  of  the  time.  I  hope  Amelia  will  gain  benefit  from  the 
excursion. 

I  am  sure,  Nell,  you  did  not  expect  me  to  come  to  Brookroyd 
before  I  went  to  London.  I  know  you  will  be  busy  enough  with 
your  Spring  clean,  etc.,  preparing  for  the  Gorhams  ;  and  how  In 
the  world  am  I  to  visit  you  during  their  stay  ?  When  they  are 
with  you,  I  shall  (D.V.)  be  in  London.  I  hope  we  shall  meet 
somewhere  somehow,  after  your  visitors  are  gone  and  my  visit  is 
over.  Meanwhile,  with  regards  to  all.  Good-bye. 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  509 

TO   SYDNEY  DOBELL 

May  ztfh,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  hasten  to  send  Mrs.  Dobell  the  autograph. 
It  was  the  word  *  Album '  that  frightened  me :  I  thought  she 
wished  me  to  write  a  sonnet  on  purpose  for  it,  which  I  could 
not  do. 

Your  proposal  respecting  a  journey  to  Switzerland  is  deeply 
kind ;  It  draws  me  with  the  force  of  a  mighty  Temptation,  but 
the  stern  Impossible  holds  me  back.  No !  I  cannot  go  to 
Switzerland  this  summer. 

Why  did  the  editor  of  the  Eclectic  erase  that  most  powerful  and 
pictorial  passage  ?  He  could  not  be  insensible  to  Its  beauty  ; 
perhaps  he  thought  It  profane.  Poor  man  !  * 

1  The  passage  erased  as  contained  in  Sydney  Dobell's  letter  to  Charlotte  Bronte 
.  II,  O 


210  THE  BRONTES 

I  know  nothing  of  such  an  orchard  country  as  you  describe. 
I  have  never  seen  such  a  region.  Our  hills  only  confess  the 
coming  of  summer  by  growing  green  with  young  fern  and  moss, 
in  secret  Httle  hollows.  Their  bloom  is  reserved  for  autumn ; 
then  they  burn  with  a  kind  of  dark  glow,  different,  doubtless, 
from  the  blush  of  garden  blossoms.  About  the  close  of  this 
month  I  expect  to  go  to  London,  to  pay  a  brief  and  quiet  visit. 
I  fear  chance  will  not  be  so  propitious  as  to  bring  you  to  town 
while  I  am  there ;  otherwise  how  glad  I  should  be  if  you  would 
call !  With  kind  regards  to  Mrs.  Dobell,  believe  me  sincerely 
yours,  C.  BRONTE. 

published  in  The  Life  and  Letters  of  Sydney  Dobell  (Smith,  Elder  and  Co.,  1878),  from 
which  the  following  extract  is  taken  : — 

*  In  the  proof  from  the  Eclectic,  which  I  have  been  correcting,  a  paragraph  was  struck 
out  by  the  sapient  editor.     It  was  this  : 

ce*Yes,  oh  divine  earth;  oh  incommunicable  beauty,  wearing  thy  crown  of  thorns, 
and  having  on  the  purple  robe  of  immemorial  sunsets,  we  have  parted  thy  garments 
among  us,  and  for  thy  vesture  have  we  cast  lots."  Poor  citizen — he  knew  not  it  was 
written  in  Paradise. 

*  One  question  and  I  must  conclude.     And  briefly  as  I  put  it,  I  could  write  a  chapter 
on  nothing  else.     Is  it  possible  that  you  can  spare  time  and  money  to  go  to  Switzerland 
this  summer?     E(imly)  and  I  hope  to  go  in  a  month's  time  (it  will  not  be  an  expensive 
journey — for  that  we  authors  and  authoresses  are  not  rich  people,  I  need  not  tell  Currer 
Bell ;  but  we  expect  to  see  the  noblest  things  in  the  land  of  marvels),  and  how  glorious 
if  you  could  accompany  us  ! 

*  If  it  is  possible,  come.1 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  211 

CHAPTER    XXVI 

A   MONTH   IN   LONDON 

IN  spite  of  low  spirits  and  bad  health,  Miss  Bronte  clearly 
enjoyed  her  month  in  London  during  the  opening  excite- 
ments of  our  first  great  Exhibition.  It  was  a  thousand 
pities  that  she  could  not  have  adopted  Mr.  Dobell's 
suggestion  in  the  last  letter,  and  have  gone  to  Switzerland, 
or  even  have  visited  the  orchard  country  near  Cheltenham 
where  he  lived.  One  thinks  that  experience  of  this  kind 
— travel  with  congenial  friends  in  a  more  genial  climate 
than  that  of  Haworth — might  have  made  her  a  stronger 
woman  and  have  prolonged  her  life.  Who  shall  say? 
But  clearly  the  call  of  duty — a  desire  to  remain  not  too 
remote  from  her  father — limited  so  unfortunately  her 
knowledge  of  the  most  health-giving  environments. 

Letter  510 

TO   THE   REV.   P.   BRONTE 

Nov.  — ,  1849. 

DEAR  PAPA, — I  must  write  another  line  to  you  to  tell  you  how 
I  am  getting  on.  I  have  seen  a  great  many  things  since  I  left 
home  about  which  I  hope  to  talk  to  you  at  future  tea-times  at 
home.  I  have  been  to  the  theatre  and  seen  Macready  in  Macbeth 
I  have  seen  the  pictures  in  the  National  Gallery.  I  have  seen  a 
beautiful  exhibition  of  Turner's  paintings,  and  yesterday  I  saw 
Mr.  Thackeray.  He  dined  here  with  some  other  gentlemen.  He 
is  a  very  tall  man — above  six  feet  high,  with  a  peculiar  face — not 
handsome,  very  ugly  indeed,  generally  somewhat  stern  and 
satirical  in  expression,  but  capable  also  of  a  kind  look.  He  was 
not  told  who  I  was,  he  was  not  introduced  to  me,  but  I  soon  saw 
him  looking  at  me  through  his  spectacles ;  and  when  we  all  rose 
to  go  down  to  dinner  he  just  stepped  quietly  up  and  said,  *  Shake 
hands J  j  so  I  shook  hands.  He  spoke  very  few  words  to  me,  but 


212  THE  BRONTES 

when  he  went  away  he  shook  hands  again  in  a  very  kind  way.  It 
is  better,  I  should  think,  to  have  him  fora  friend  than  an  enemy, 
for  he  is  a  most  formidable-looking  personage.  I  listened  to  him 
as  he  conversed  with  the  other  gentlemen.  All  he  says  is  most 
simple,  but  often  cynical,  harsh,  and  contradictory.  I  get  on 
quietly.  Most  people  know  me,  I  think,  but  they  are  far  too  well 
bred  to  show  that  they  know  me,  so  that  there  is  none  of  that 
bustle  or  that  sense  of  publicity  I  dislike. 

I  hope  you  continue  pretty  well ;  be  sure  to  take  care  of  your- 
self. The  weather  here  is  exceedingly  changeful,  and  often  damp 
and  misty,  so  that  it  is  necessary  to  guard  against  taking  cold.  I 
do  not  mean  to  stay  in  London  above  a  week  longer,  but  I  shall 
write  again  two  or  three  days  before  I  return.  You  need  not  give 
yourself  the  trouble  of  answering  this  letter  unless  you  have  some- 
thing particular  to  say.  Remember  me  to  Tabby  and  Martha. — I 
remain,  dear  papa,  your  affectionate  daughter,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  511 

TO   THE   REV.   P.  BRONTE 

76  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE,  HYDE  PARK, 
LONDON,  Thursday  Morning,  May  zgth,  1851. 

DEAR  PAPA, — I  write  one  hasty  line  just  to  tell  you  that  I  got 
here  quite  safely  at  ten  o'clock  last  night  without  any  damage  or 
smash  in  tunnels  or  cuttings.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith  met  me  at  the 
station  and  gave  me  a  kind  and  cordial  welcome.  The  weather 
was  beautiful  the  whole  way,  and  warm ;  it  is  the  same  to-day. 
I  have  not  yet  been  out,  but  this  afternoon,  if  all  be  well,  I  shall 
go  to  Mr.  Thackeray's  lecture.  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  see  the 
Exhibition,  but  when  I  do,  I  shall  write  and  tell  you  all  about  it. 
I  hope  you  are  well,  and  will  continue  well  and  cheerful.  Give 
my  kind  regards  to  Tabby  and  Martha,  and — Believe  me,  your 
affectionate  daughter,  C,  BRONTE. 

Letter  512 

TO  THE  REV,  P.  BRONTE 

76  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE,  HYDE  PARK, 

LONDON,  May  30^  1851. 

DEAR  PAPA,— I  have  now  heard  one  of  Mr.  Thackeray's 
lectures  and  seen  the  great  Exhibition.  On  Thursday  afternoon 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  213 

I  went  to  hear  the  lecture.  It  was  delivered  in  a  large  and 
splendid  kind  of  saloon — that  in  which  the  great  balls  of  Almack's 
are  given.  The  walls  were  all  painted  and  gilded,  the  benches 
were  sofas  stuffed  and  cushioned  and  covered  with  blue  damask. 
The  audience  was  composed  of  the  ^lite  of  London  society. 
Duchesses  were  there  by  the  score,  and  amongst  them  the  great 
and  beautiful  Duchess  of  Sutherland,  the  Queen's  Mistress  of  the 
Robes.  Amidst  all  this  Thackeray  just  got  up  and  spoke  with  as 
much  simplicity  and  ease  as  if  he  had  been  speaking  to  a  few- 
friends  by  his  own  fireside.  The  lecture  was  truly  good  :  he  has 
taken  pains  with  the  composition.  It  was  finished  without  being 
in  the  least  studied  ;  a  quiet  humour  and  graphic  force  enlivened 
it  throughout.  He  saw  me  as  I  entered  the  room,  and  came 
straight  up  and  spoke  very  kindly.  He  then  took  me  to  his 
mother,  a  fine,  handsome  old  lady,  and  introduced  me  to  her. 
After  the  lecture  somebody  came  behind  me,  leaned  over  the 
bench,  and  said,  'Will  you  permit  me,  as  a  Yorkshireman,  to 
introduce  myself  to  you  ? 3  I  turned  round,  was  puzzled  at  first 
by  the  strange  face  I  met,  but  in  a  minute  I  recognised  the 
features.  £  You  are  the  Earl  of  Carlisle,'  I  said.  He  smiled  and 
assented.  He  went  on  to  talk  for  some  time  in  a  courteous,  kind 
fashion.  He  asked  after  you,  recalled  the  platform  electioneering 
scene  at  Haworth,  and  begged  to  be  remembered  to  you.  Dr. 
Forbes  came  up  afterwards,  and  Mr.  Monckton  Milnes,  a  York- 
shire Member  of  Parliament,  who  introduced  himself  on  the  same 
plea  as  Lord  Carlisle. 

Yesterday  we  went  to  the  Crystal  Palace.1  The  exterior  has 
a  strange  and  elegant  but  somewhat  unsubstantial  effect  The 
interior  is  like  a  mighty  Vanity  Fair.  The  brightest  colours  blaze 
on  all  sides ;  and  ware  of  all  kinds,  from  diamonds  to  spinning 
jennies  and  printing  presses,  are  there  to  be  seen.  It  was  very 
fine,  gorgeous,  animated,  bewildering,  but  I  liked  Thackeray's 
lecture  better. 

I  hope,  dear  papa,  that  you  are  keeping  well  With  kind 
regards  to  Tabby  and  Martha,  and  hopes  that  they  are  well  too, — I 
am,  your  affectionate  daughter,  C.  BRONTE. 

1  The  Great  Exhibition  in  Hyde  Park. 


214  THE  BKONTES 

Letter  513 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

112  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE,  HYDE  PARK, 
June  2nd,  1851. 

DEAR  NELL, — I  came  here  on  Wednesday,  being  summoned 
a  day  sooner  than  I  expected,  in  order  to  be  in  time  for 
Thackeray's  second  lecture,  which  was  delivered  on  Thursday 
afternoon.  This,  as  you  may  suppose,  was  a  genuine  treat  to  me, 
and  I  was  glad  not  to  miss  it.  It  was  given  in  Willis1  Rooms, 
where  the  Almack's  balls  are  held,  a  great  painted  and  gilded 
saloon  with  long  sofas  for  benches.  The  audience  was  said  to  be 
the  cream  of  London  society,  and  it  looked  so.  I  did  not  at  all 
expect  the  great  lecturer  would  know  me  or  notice  me  under  the 
circumstances,  with  admiring  duchesses  and  countesses  seated  in 
rows  before  him ;  but  he  met  me  as  I  entered,  shook  hands,  took 
me  to  his  mother,  whom  I  had  not  before  seen,  and  introduced  me. 
She  is  a  fine,  handsome,  young-looking,  old  lady ;  she  was  very 
gracious,  and  called  with  one  of  her  granddaughters  next  day. 

Thackeray  called  too,  separately.  I  had  a  long  talk  with  him, 
and  I  think  he  knows  me  now  a  little  better  than  he  did ;  but  of 
this  I  cannot  yet  be  sure ;  he  is  a  great  and  strange  man.  There 
is  quite  a  furor  for  his  lectures.  They  are  a  sort  of  essays, 
characterised  by  his  own  peculiar  originality  and  power,  and 
delivered  with  a  finished  taste  and  ease,  which  is  felt,  but  cannot 
well  be  described.  Just  before  the  lecture  began,  somebody  came 
behind  me,  leaned  over  and  said,  *  Permit  me,  a  Yorkshireman,  to 
introduce  myself/  I  turned  round,  saw  a  strange,  not  handsome, 
face,  which  puzzled  me  for  half  a  minute,  and  then  I  said,  <  You 
are  Lord  Carlisle/  He  nodded  and  smiled;  he  talked  a  few 
minutes  very  pleasantly  and  courteously. 

Afterwards  came  another  man  with  the  same  plea,  that  he  was 
a  Yorkshireman,  and  this  turned  out  to  be  Mr.  Monckton  Milnes. 
Then  came  Dr.  Forbes,  whom  I  was  sincerely  glad  to  see.  On 
Friday  I  went  to  the  Crystal  Palace ;  it  is  a  marvellous,  stirring, 
bewildering  sight,  a  mixture  of  genii  palace  and  a  mighty  bazaar, 
but  it  is  not  much  in  my  way ;  I  liked  the  lecture  better.  On 
Saturday  I  saw  the  Exhibition  at  Somerset  House ;  about  half 
a  dozen  of  the  pictures  are  good  and  interesting,  the  rest  of  little 
worth.  Sunday,  yesterday,  was  a  day  to  be  marked  with  a  white 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  215 

stone :  through  most  of  the  day  I  was  very  happy,  without  being 
tired  or  over-excited.  In  the  afternoon  I  went  to  hear  D'Aubign6, 
the  great  Protestant  French  preacher;  it  was  pleasant — half 
sweet,  half  sad — and  strangely  suggestive,  to  hear  the  French 
language  once  more.  For  health,  I  have  so  far  got  on  very  fairly, 
considering  that  I  came  here  far  from  well.  Of  Mr.  Williams' 
society  I  have  enjoyed  one  evening's  allowance,  and  liked  it  and 
him  as  usual.  On  such  occasions  his  good  qualities  of  ease, 
kindliness,  and  intelligence  are  seen  and  his  little  faults  and  foibles 
hidden.  Mr.  Smith  is  somewhat  changed  in  appearance  ;  he  looks 
a  little  older,  darker  and  more  careworn,  his  ordinary  manner  is 
graver,  but  in  the  evening  his  spirits  flow  back  to  him.  Things 
and  circumstances  seem  here  to  be  as  usual,  but  I  fancy  there  has 
been  some  crisis  in  which  his  energy  and  filial  affection  have 
sustained  them  all ;  this  I  judge  from  the  fact  that  mother  and 
sisters  are  more  peculiarly  bound  to  him  than  ever  and  that  his 
slightest  wish  is  an  unquestioned  law. 

Your  visitors  will  soon  be  with  you,  if  they  are  not  at  Brookroy d 
already.  I  trust  their  sojourn  will  pass  as  you  could  wish,  and 
bring  you  all  pleasure.  Remember  me  to  all,  especially  your 
mother.  Write  soon,  and  believe  me,  faithfully  yours, 

C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  514 

TO   THE   REV.    P.   BRONTE 

ii2  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE, 
HYDE  PARK,/##*  -jth^  1851. 

DEAR  PAPA, — I  was  very  glad  to  hear  that  you  continued  in 
pretty  good  health,  and  that  Mr.  Cartman  came  to  help  you  on 
Sunday.  I  fear  you  will  not  have  had  a  very  comfortable  week 
in  the  dining-room ;  but  by  this  time  I  suppose  the  parlour 
reformation  will  be  nearly  completed,  and  you  will  soon  be  able 
to  return  to  your  old  quarters.  The  letter  you  sent  me  this 
morning  was  from  Mary  Taylor.  She  continues  well  and  happy 
in  New  Zealand,  and  her  shop  seems  to  answer  well.  The 
French  newspaper  duly  arrived.  Yesterday  I  went  for  the 
second  time  to  the  Crystal  Palace.  We  remained  in  it  about 
three  hours,  and  I  must  say  I  was  more  struck  with  it  on  this 
occasion  than  at  my  first  visit.  It  is  a  wonderful  place — vast, 


216  THE  BRONTES 

strange,  new,  and  impossible  to  describe.  Its  grandeur  does  not 
consist  in  one  thing,  but  in  the  unique  assemblage  of  all  things. 
Whatever  human  industry  has  created,  you  find  there,  from  the 
great  compartments  filled  with  railway  engines  and  boilers, 
with  mill-machinery  in  full  work,  with  splendid  carriages  of  all 
kinds,  with  harness  of  every  description — to  the  glass-covered 
and  velvet-spread  stands  loaded  with  the  most  gorgeous  work 
of  the  goldsmith  and  silversmith,  and  the  carefully  guarded 
caskets  full  of  real  diamonds  and  pearls  worth  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  pounds,  It  may  be  called  a  bazaar  or  a  fair,  but  it 
is  such  a  bazaar  or  fair  as  Eastern  genii  might  have  created.  It 
seems  as  if  magic  only  could  have  gathered  this  mass  of  wealth 
from  all  the  ends  of  the  earth — as  if  none  but  supernatural  hands 
could  have  arranged  it  thus,  with  such  a  blaze  and  contrast  of 
colours  and  marvellous  power  of  effect.  The  multitude  filling 
the  great  aisles  seems  ruled  and  subdued  by  some  invisible  in- 
fluence. Amongst  the  thirty  thousand  souls  that  peopled  it  the 
day  I  was  there,  not  one  loud  noise  was  to  be  heard,  not  one 
irregular  movement  seen — the  living  tide  rolls  on  quietly,  with  a 
deep  hum  like  the  sea  heard  from  the  distance. 

Mr.  Thackeray  is  in  high  spirits  about  the  success  of  his 
lectures.  It  is  likely  to  add  largely  both  to  his  fame  and  purse. 
He  has,  however,  deferred  this  week's  lecture  till  next  Thursday, 
at  the  earnest  petition  of  the  duchesses  and  marchionesses,  who, 
on  the  day  it  should  have  been  delivered,  were  necessitated  to 
go  down  with  the  Queen  and  Court  to  Ascot  Races.  I  told  him 
I  thought  he  did  wrong  to  put  it  off  on  their  account — and  I 
think  so  still  The  amateur  performance  of  Bulwer's  play  for  the 
Guild  of  Literature  has  likewise  been  deferred  on  account  of  the 
races.  I  hope,  dear  papa,  that  you,  Mr.  Nicholls,  and  all  at  home 
continue  well.  Tell  Martha  to  take  her  scrubbing  and  cleaning 
in  moderation  and  not  overwork  herself.  With  kind  regards  to 
her  and  Tabby, — I  am,  your  affectionate  daughter, 

C  BRONTE. 

Mrs.  GaskelFs  account  of  this  Thackeray  lecture  is 
very  interesting : — 

The  lady  who  accompanied  Miss  Bronte  to  the  lecture  of 
Thackeray's  alluded  to  says  that,  soon  after  they  had  taken  their 
places,  she  was  aware  that  he  was  pointing  out  her  companion  to 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  217 

several  of  his  friends,  but  she  hoped  that  Miss  Bronte  herself 
would  not  perceive  it.  After  some  time,  however,  during  which 
many  heads  had  been  turned  round,  and  many  glasses  put  up,  in 
order  to  look  at  the  author  of  Jane  Eyre^  Miss  Bronte  said,  c  I  am 
afraid  Mr.  Thackeray  has  been  playing  me  a  trick ' ;  but  she  soon 
became  too  much  absorbed  in  the  lecture  to  notice  the  attention 
which  was  being  paid  to  her,  except  when  it  was  directly  offered, 
as  in  the  case  of  Lord  Carlisle  and  Mr.  Monckton  Milnes.  When 
the  lecture  was  ended  Mr.  Thackeray  came  down  from  the  plat- 
form, and  making  his  way  towards  her  asked  her  for  her  opinion. 
This  she  mentioned  to  me  not  many  days  afterwards,  adding 
remarks  almost  identical  with  those  which  I  subsequently  read  in 
Villette,  where  a  similar  action  on  the  part  of  M.  Paul  Emanuel  is 
related. 

As  they  were  preparing  to  leave  the  room  her  companion  saw 
with  dismay  that  many  of  the  audience  were  forming  themselves 
into  two  lines,  on  each  side  of  the  aisle  down  which  they  had  to 
pass  before  reaching  the  door.  Aware  that  any  delay  would 
only  make  the  ordeal  more  trying,  her  friend  took  Miss  Bronte's 
arm  in  hers,  and  they  went  along  the  avenue  of  eager  and 
admiring  faces.  During  this  passage  through  the  { cream  of 
society'  Miss  Bronte's  hand  trembled  to  such  a  degree  that  her 
companion  feared  lest  she  should  turn  faint  and  be  unable  to 
proceed  ;  and  she  dared  not  express  her  sympathy  or  try  to  give 
her  strength  by  any  touch  or  word,  lest  it  might  bring  on  the 
crisis  she  dreaded. 

Letter  515 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

112  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE,  HYDE  PARK, 
June  uA%,  1851. 

DEAR  NELL, — I  sit  down  to  write  you  this  morning  in  an  inex- 
pressibly flat  state ;  having  spent  the  whole  of  yesterday  and  the 
day  before  in  a  gradually  increasing  headache,  which  at  last  grew 
rampant  and  violent,  ended  with  excessive  sickness,  and  this 
morning  I  am  quite  weak  and  washy.  I  hoped  to  leave  my  head- 
aches behind  me  at  Haworth ;  but  It  seems  I  brought  them 
carefully  packed  in  my  trunk,  and  very  much  have  they  been  in 
my  way  since  I  came.  I  fear  you  are  not  well.  If  all  be  well  I 
shall  leave  London  at  the  close  of  next  week. 


218  THE  BRONTES 

To  come  and  see  you  while  you  have  visitors  would,  I  am  sure, 
be  a  complete  waste  of  time  and  throwing  away  of  opportunity, 
therefore  I  won't  do  it ;  so  that  is  settled.  You  seem  to  think  me 
in  such  a  happy,  enviable  position  ;  pleasant  moments  I  have,  but 
it  is  usually  a  pleasure  I  am  obliged  to  repel  and  check,  which 
cannot  benefit  the  future,  but  only  add  to  its  solitude,  which  is  no 
more  to  be  relied  on  than  the  sunshine  of  one  summer's  day.  I 
pass  portions  of  many  a  night  in  extreme  sadness. 

Since  I  wrote  last,  I  have  seen  various  things  worth  describing  ; 
Rachel,  the  great  French  actress,  amongst  the  number.  But 
to-day  I  really  have  no  pith  for  the  task.  I  can  only  wish  you 
good-bye  with  all  my  heart.— Yours  faithfully,  C  BRONTE. 

Write  when  you  have  time. 

Letter  516 

TO  THE  REV.   P.  BRONTE 

112  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE,  HYDE  PARK, 
June  14^,  1851. 

DEAR  PAPA, — If  all  be  well,  and  if  Martha  can  get  the  cleaning, 
etc.,  done  by  that  time,  I  think  I  shall  be  coming  home  about  the 
end  of  next  week  or  the  beginning  of  the  week  after.  I  have  been 
pretty  well  in  London,  only  somewhat  troubled  with  headaches, 
owing,  I  suppose,  to  the  closeness  and  oppression  of  the  air.  The 
weather  has  not  been  so  favourable  as  when  I  was  last  here,  and 
in  wet  and  dark  days  this  great  Babylon  is  not  so  cheerful.  All 
the  other  sights  seem  to  give  way  to  the  great  Exhibition,  into 
which  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  continue  to  pour  every 
day.  I  was  in  it  again  yesterday  afternoon,  and  saw  the  ex-royal 
family  of  France — the  old  Queen,  the  Duchess  of  Orleans,  and  her 
two  sons,  etc.,  pass  down  the  transept  I  almost  wonder  the 
Londoners  don't  tire  a  little  of  this  vast  Vanity  Fair — and,  indeed, 
a  new  toy  has  somewhat  diverted  the  attention  of  the  grandees 
lately,  viz.  a  fancy  ball  given  last  night  by  the  Queen.  The  great 
lords  and  ladies  have  been  quite  wrapt  up  in  preparations  for  this 
momentous  event.  Their  pet  and  darling,  Mr.  Thackeray,  of 
course  sympathises  with  them.  He  was  here  yesterday  to  dinner, 
and  left  very  early  in  the  evening  in  order  that  he  might  visit 
respectively  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk,  the  Marchioness  of  London- 
derry, Ladies  Chesterfield  and  Clanricarde,  and  see  them  all  in 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  219 

their  fancy  costumes  of  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  before  they  set  out 
for  the  Palace !  His  lectures,  It  appears,  are  a  triumphant  success. 
He  says  they  will  enable  him  to  make  a  provision  for  his  daughters ; 
and  Mr.  Smith  believes  he  will  not  get  less  than  four  thousand 
pounds  by  them.  He  is  going  to  give  two  courses,  and  then  go 
to  Edinburgh  and  perhaps  America,  but  not  under  the  auspices  of 
Barnum.  Amongst  others,  the  Lord  Chancellor  attended  his  last 
lecture,  and  Mr.  Thackeray  says  he  expects  a  place  from  him  ; 
but  in  this  I  think  he  was  joking.  Of  course  Mr.  T.  is  a  good 
deal  spoiled  by  all  this,  and  indeed  it  cannot  be  otherwise.  He 
has  offered  two  or  three  times  to  introduce  me  to  some  of  his 
great  friends,  and  says  he  knows  many  great  ladies  who  would 
receive  me  with  open  arms  if  I  would  go  to  their  houses ;  but, 
seriously,  I  cannot  see  that  this  sort  of  society  produces  so  good 
an  effect  on  him  as  to  tempt  me  in  the  least  to  try  the  same 
experiment,  so  I  remain  obscure. 

Hoping  you  are  well,  dear  papa,  and  with  kind  regards  to  Mr. 
Nicholls,  Tabby,  and  Martha,  also  poor  old  Keeper  and  Flossie, — 
I  am,  your  affectionate  daughter,  C.  BRONTE, 

P.S. — I  am  glad  the  parlour  is  done  and  that  you  have  got 
safely  settled,  but  am  quite  shocked  to  hear  of  the  piano  being 
dragged  up  into  the  bedroom — there  it  must  necessarily  be  absurd, 
and  in  the  parlour  it  looked  so  well,  besides  being  convenient  for 
your  books.  I  wonder  why  you  don't  like  it. 

Letter  517 

TO    THE   REV.    P.   BRONTE 

112  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE,  HYDE  PARK, 
LONDON,  June  17^,  1851. 

DEAR  PAPA, — I  write  a  line  in  haste  to  tell  you  that  I  find  they 
will  not  let  me  leave  London  till  next  Tuesday  \  and  as  I  have 
promised  to  spend  a  day  or  two  with  Mrs.  Gaskell  on  my  way 
home,  it  will  probably  be  Friday  or  Saturday  in  next  week  before 
I  return  to  Haworth.  Martha  will  thus  have  a  few  days  more 
time,  and  must  not  hurry  or  overwork  herself.  Yesterday  I  saw 
Cardinal  Wiseman  and  heard  him  speak.  It  was  at  a  meeting  for 
the  Roman  Catholic  Society  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul ;  the  Cardinal 
presided.  He  is  a  big  portly  man  something  of  the  shape  of  Mr. 
Morgan ;  he  has  not  merely  a  double  but  a  treble  and  quadruple 


220  THE  BRONTES 

chin ;  he  has  a  very  large  mouth  with  oily  lips,  and  looks  as  if  he 
would  relish  a  good  dinner  with  a  bottle  of  wine  after  it  He 
came  swimming  into  the  room  smiling,  simpering,  and  bowing 
like  a  fat  old  lady,  and  sat  down  very  demure  in  his  chair,  and 
looked  the  picture  of  a  sleek  hypocrite.  He  was  dressed  in  black 
like  a  bishop  or  dean  in  plain  clothes,  but  wore  scarlet  gloves  and 
a  brilliant  scarlet  waistcoat.  A  bevy  of  inferior  priests  surrounded 
him,  many  of  them  very  dark-looking  and  sinister  men.  The 
Cardinal  spoke  In  a  smooth  whining  manner,  just  like  a  canting 
Methodist  preacher.  The  audience  seemed  to  look  up  to  him  as 
to  a  god.  A  spirit  of  the  hottest  zeal  pervaded  the  whole  meet- 
ing. I  was  told  afterwards  that  except  myself  and  the  person  who 
accompanied  me  there  was  not  a  single  Protestant  present.  All 
the  speeches  turned  on  the  necessity  of  straining  every  nerve  to 
make  converts  to  popery.  It  is  in  such  a  scene  that  one  feels  what 
the  Catholics  are  doing.  Most  persevering  and  enthusiastic  are 
they  in  their  work !  Let  Protestants  look  to  it.  It  cheered  me 
much  to  hear  that  you  continue  pretty  well.  Take  every  care  of 
yourself.  Remember  me  kindly  to  Tabby  and  Martha,  also  to 
Mr.  Nicholls,  and  —  Believe  me,  dear  papa,  your  affectionate 
daughter,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  518 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

June  I9//&,  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  shall  have  to  stay  in  London  a  few  days 
longer  than  I  intended.  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth  has  found  out 
that  I  am  here ;  I  have  some  trouble  in  warding  off  his  wish  that 
I  should  go  directly  to  his  house  and  take  up  my  quarters  there, 
but  Mrs.  Smith  helped  me,  and  I  got  off  with  promising  to  spend 
a  day.  I  am  engaged  to  spend  a  day  or  two  with  Mrs.  Gaskell  on 
my  way  home,  and  could  not  put  her  off,  as  she  is  going  away  for 
a  portion  of  the  summer.  Lady  Shuttleworth  looks  very  delicate. 
Papa  is  now  very  desirous  I  should  come  home,  and  when  I  have 
as  quickly  as  possible  paid  my  debts  of  engagements,  home  I  must 
go.  Next  Tuesday  I  go  to  Manchester  for  two  days. 

I  cannot  boast  that  London  has  agreed  with  me  well  this  time ; 
the  oppression  of  frequent  headache,  sickness,  and  a  low  tone  of 
spirits,  has  poisoned  many  moments  which  might  otherwise  have 
been  pleasant.  Sometimes  I  have  felt  this  hard,  and  been  tempted 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  221 

to  murmur  at  Fate,  which  compels  me  to  comparative  silence  and 
solitude  for  eleven  months  in  the  year,  and  in  the  twelfth,  while 
offering  social  enjoyment,  takes  away  the  vigour  and  cheerfulness 
which  should  turn  it  to  account.  But  circumstances  are  ordered 
for  us,  and  we  must  submit.  I  still  hope  to  see  you  ere  long. 
Wishing  you  and  your  guests  all  happiness  and  pleasure,  I  am, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  519 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

112  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE, 
June  24/£,  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Your  letter  would  have  been  answered  yester- 
day, but  I  was  already  gone  out  before  post  time,  and  was  out  all 
day.  Since  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth  discovered  that  I  was  in  London 
I  have  had  precious  little  time  to  myself.  He  brings  other  people 
who  are  very  kind,  and  perhaps  I  shall  be  glad  of  what  I  have  seen 
afterwards,  but  it  is  often  a  little  trying  at  the  time.  On  Thurs- 
day the  Marquis  of  Westminster  asked  me  to  a  great  party,  to 
which  I  was  to  go  with  Mrs.  Davenport,  a  beautiful,  and,  I  think, 
a  kind  woman  too ;  but  this  I  resolutely  declined.  On  Friday  I 
dined  at  the  Shuttleworth's,  and  met  Mrs.  Davenport  and  Mr. 
Monckton  Milnes.  On  Saturday  I  went  to  hear  and  see  Rachel ; 
a  wonderful  sight,  terrible  as  if  the  earth  had  cracked  deep  at  your 
feet,  and  revealed  a  glimpse  of  hell.  I  shall  never  forget  it.  She 
made  me  shudder  to  the  marrow  of  my  bones ;  in  her  some  fiend 
has  certainly  taken  up  an  incarnate  home.  She  is  not  a  woman  ; 

she  is  a  snake ;  she  is  the .    On  Sunday  I  went  to  the  Spanish 

Ambassador's  Chapel,  where  Cardinal  Wiseman,  in  his  archi- 
episcopal  robes  and  mitre,  held  a  confirmation.  The  whole  scene 
was  impiously  theatrical.  Yesterday  (Monday)  I  was  sent  for  at 
ten  to  breakfast  with  Mr.  Rogers,  the  patriarch-poet  Mrs.  Daven- 
port and  Lord  Glenelg  were  there ;  no  one  else :  this  certainly 
proved  a  most  calm,  refined,  and  intellectual  treat.  After  break- 
fast Sir  David  Brewster  came  to  take  us  to  the  Crystal  Palace.  I 
had  rather  dreaded  this,  for  Sir  David  is  a  man  of  profoundest 
science,  and  I  feared  It  would  be  impossible  to  understand  his 
explanations  of  the  mechanism,  etc. ;  indeed,  I  hardly  knew  how 
to  ask  him  questions.  I  was  spared  all  trouble:  without  being 
questioned,  he  gave  information  in  the  kindest  and  simplest 


222  THE  BRONTES 

manner.     After  two  hours  spent  at  the  Exhibition,  and  when,  as 
you  may  suppose,  I  was  very  tired,  we  had  to  go  to  Lord  West- 
minster's, and  spend  two  hours  more  in  looking  at  the  collection 
of  pictures  in  his  splendid  gallery.     I  cannot  now  leave  London 
till  Friday.     To-morrow  is  Mr.  Smith's  only  holiday.    Mr.  Taylor's 
departure  leaves  him  loaded  with  work.     More  than  once  since  I 
came  he  has  been  kept  in  the  city  till  three  in  the  morning.     He 
wants  to  take  us  all  to  Richmond,  and  I  promised  last  week  I 
would  stay  and  go  with  him,  his  mother,  and  sisters.     I  go  to 
Mrs.  Gaskell's  on  Friday.     Believe  me,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  520 

TO  THE  REV.  P.  BRONTE,   HA  WORTH,  YORKS 

112  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE, 
June  26/4  1851. 

DEAR  PAPA, — I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  get  away  from 
London,  but  if  all  be  well  I  shall  go  to-morrow,  stay  two  days 
with  Mrs.  Gaskell  at  Manchester,  and  return  home  on  Monday  3Oth 
without  fail.  During  this  last  week  or  ten  days  I  have  seen  many 
things,  some  of  them  very  interesting,  and  have  also  been  in  much 
better  health  than  I  was  during  the  first  fortnight  of  my  stay  in 
London.  Sir  James  and  Lady  Shuttleworth  have  really  been 
very  kind,  and  most  scrupulously  attentive.  They  desire  their 
regards  to  you,  and  send  all  manner  of  civil  messages.  The 
Marquis  of  Westminster  and  the  Earl  of  Ellesmere  each  sent  me 
an  order  to  see  their  private  collection  of  pictures,  which  I  enjoyed 
very  much.  Mr,  Rogers,  the  patriarch-poet,  now  eighty-seven 
years  old,  invited  me  to  breakfast  with  him.  His  breakfasts,  you 
must  understand,  are  celebrated  throughout  Europe  for  their 
peculiar  refinement  and  taste.  He  never  admits  at  that  meal 
more  than  four  persons  to  his  table :  himself  and  three  guests. 
The  morning  I  was  there  I  met  Lord  Glenelg  and  Mrs.  Daven- 
port, a  relation  of  Lady  Shuttleworth's,  and  a  very  beautiful  and 
fashionable  woman.  The  visit  was  very  interesting ;  I  was  glad 
that  I  had  paid  it  after  it  was  over.  An  attention  that  pleased 
and  surprised  me  more  I  think  than  any  other  was  the  circum- 
stance of  Sir  David  Brewster,  who  is  one  of  the  first  scientific  men 
of  his  day,  coming  to  take  me  over  the  Crystal  Palace,  and  point- 
ing out  and  explaining  the  most  remarkable  curiosities.  You  will 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  223 

know,  dear  papa,  that  I  do  not  mention  those  things  to  boast  of 
them,  but  merely  because  I  think  they  will  give  you  pleasure. 
Nobody,  I  find,  thinks  the  worse  of  me  for  avoiding  publicity 
and  declining  to  go  to  large  parties,  and  everybody  seems  truly 
courteous  and  respectful,  a  mode  of  behaviour  which  makes  me 
grateful,  as  it  ought  to  do.  Good-bye  till  Monday.  Give  my  best 
regards  to  Mr.  Nicholls,  Tabby,  and  Martha,  and — Believe  me 
your  affectionate  daughter,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  521 

TO   MRS.  SMITH 

HAWORTH,/^  is/9  1851. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  SMITH, — Once  more  I  am  at  home,  where, 
I  am  thankful  to  say,  I  found  my  father  very  well.  The  journey 
to  Manchester  was  a  little  hot  and  dusty,  but  otherwise  pleasant 
enough.  The  two  stout  gentlemen  who  filled  a  portion  of  the 
carriage  when  I  got  in  quitted  it  at  Rugby,  and  two  other  ladies 
and  myself  had  it  to  ourselves  the  rest  of  the  way.  The  visit  to 
Mrs.  Gaskell  formed  a  cheering  break  in  the  journey.  Haworth 
Parsonage  Is  rather  a  contrast;  yet  even  Haworth  Parsonage 
does  not  look  gloomy  in  this  bright  summer  weather ;  it  is  some- 
what still,  but  with  the  windows  open  I  can  hear  a  bird  or  two 
singing  on  certain  thorn  trees  £n  the  garden*  My  father  and  the 
servants  think  me  looking  better  than  when  I  left  home,  and 
I  certainly  feel  better  myself  for  the  change.  You  are  too  much 
like  your  son  to  render  it  advisable  I  should  say  much  about 
your  kindness  during  my  visit.  However,  one  cannot  help  (like 
Captain  Cuttle)  making  a  note  of  these  matters.  Papa  says  I  am 
to  thank  you  in  his  name,  and  offer  you  his  respects,  which  I  do 
accordingly. -^--With  truest  regards  to  all  your  circle,  believe  me 
very  sincerely  yours3  C.  BRONTE* 

Letter  522 

TO   MISS   WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  July  14.*%,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  WOOLER, — My  first  feeling  on  receiving  your 
note  was  one  of  disappointment ;  but  a  little  consideration  sufficed 
to  show  me  that '  all  was  for  the  best'  In  truth,  it  was  a  great 
piece  of  extravagance  on  my  part  to  ask  you  and  Ellen  together ; 


224  THE  BRONTES 

it  is  much  better  to  divide  such  good  things.     To  have  your  visi 
in  prospect  will  console  me  when  hers  is  in  retrospect     Not  that 
mean  to  yield  to  the  weakness  of  clinging  dependency  to  th 
society  of  friends,  however  dear,  but  still,  as  an  occasional  treat, 
must  value  and  even  seek  such  society  as  a  necessary  of  life.     L€ 
me  know,  then,  whenever  it  suits  your  convenience  to  come  t 
Haworth,  and,  unless  some  change  I  cannot  now  foresee  occurs, 
ready  and  warm  welcome  will  await  you.     Should  there  be  an 
cause  rendering  it  desirable  to  defer  the  visit,  I  will  tell  you  frankh 

The  pleasures  of  society  I  cannot  offer  you,  nor  those  of  fin 
scenery,  but  I  place  very  much  at  your  command  the  moors,  som 
books,  a  series  of  *  curling-hair  times/  and  an  old  pupil  into  th 
bargain.  Ellen  may  have  told  you  that  I  have  spent  a  month  i 
London  this  summer.  When  you  come  you  shall  ask  what  quef 
tions  you  like  on  that  point,  and  I  will  answer  to  the  best  of  m 
stammering  ability.  Do  not  press  me  much  on  the  subject  of  th 
'Crystal  Palace.'  I  went  there  five  times,  and  certainly  saw  som 
interesting  things,  and  the  coup  d'ceil  is  striking  and  bewilderin 
enough,  but  I  never  was  able  to  get  up  any  raptures  on  the  sut 
ject,  and  each  renewed  visit  was  made  under  coercion  rather  tha 
my  own  free-will.  It  is  an  excessively  bustling  place ;  and,  afte 
all,  its  wonders  appeal  too  exclusively  to  the  eye,  and  rarely  touc 
the  heart  or  head.  I  make  an  exception  to  the  last  assertion  i 
favour  of  those  who  possess  a  large  range  of  scientific  knowledg* 
Once  I  went  with  Sir  David  Brewster,  and  perceived  that  h 
looked  on  objects  with  other  eyes  than  mine. 

Ellen  I  find  is  writing,  and  will  therefore  deliver  her  ow 
messages  of  regard.  If  papa  were  in  the  room  he  would,  I  knov 
desire  his  respects ;  and  you  must  take  both  respects  and  a  goo 
bundle  of  something  more  cordial  from  yours  very  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  523 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

Jufy2I$f,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  delayed  answering  your  very  interestin 
letter  until  the  box  should  have  reached  me ;  and  now  that  it  i 
come  I  can  only  acknowledge  its  arrival :  I  cannot  say  at  all  wha 
I  felt  as  I  unpacked  its  contents.  These  Cornhill  parcels  hav 
something  of  the  magic  charm  of  a  fairy  gift  about  them,  as  we 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  225 

as  of  the  less  poetical  but  more  substantial  pleasure  of  a  box  from 
home  received  at  school.  You  have  sent  me  this  time  even  more 
books  than  usual,  and  all  good.  What  shall  I  say  about  the 
twenty  numbers  of  splendid  engravings  laid  cosily  at  the  bottom  ? 
The  whole  Vernon  Gallery  brought  to  one's  fireside!  Indeed, 
indeed  I  can  say  nothing,  except  that  I  will  take  care,  and  keep 
them  clean,  and  send  them  back  uninjured.  In  reading  your 
graphic  account  of  a  visit  to  Oxford  after  an  interval  of  thirty 
years  since  you  last  went  there — and  of  the  disillusion  which 
meanwhile  had  taken  place — I  could  not  help  wondering  whether 
Cornhill  will  ever  change  for  me  as  Oxford  has  changed  for  you  ; 
I  have  some  pleasant  associations  connected  with  it  now — will 
these  alter  their  character  some  day?  Perhaps  they  may — though 
I  have  faith  to  the  contrary ;  because — I  think — I  do  not 
exaggerate  my  partialities ;  I  think  I  take  faults  along  with 
excellences — blemishes  together  with  beauties.  And  besides — 
in  the  matter  of  friendship — I  have  observed  that  disappoint- 
ment here  arises  chiefly,  not  from  liking  our  friends  too  well, 
or  thinking  of  them  too  highly,  but  rather  from  an  overestimate 
of  their  liking  for  and  opinion  of  us ;  and  that  if  we  guard 
ourselves  with  sufficient  scrupulousness  of  care  from  error  in  this 
direction — and  can  be  content,  and  even  happy  to  give  more 
affection  than  we  receive— can  make  just  comparison  of  circum- 
stances and  be  severely  accurate  in  drawing  inferences  thence, 
and  never  let  self-love  blind  our  eyes — I  think  we  may  manage 
to  get  through  life  with  constancy — unembittered  by  that  mis- 
anthropy which  springs  from  revulsions  of  feeling.  All  this  , 
sounds  a  little  metaphysical — but  it  is  good  sense  if  you  consider 
it.  The  moral  of  it  is,  that  if  we  would  build  on  a  sure  foundation 
in  friendship,  we  must  love  our  friends  for  their  sakes  rather 
than  for  our  own,  we  must  look  at  their  truth  to  themselves  fully  as 
much  as  their  truth  to  us.  In  the  latter  case,  every  wound  to 
self-love  would  be  a  cause  of  coldness ;  in  the  former,  only  some 
painful  change  in  the  friend's  character  and  disposition — some 
fearful  breach  in  his  allegiance  to  his  better  self — could  alienate 
the  heart. 

How  interesting  your  old  maiden  cousin's  gossip  about  your 
parents  must  have  been  to  you ;  and  how  gratifying  to  find  that 
the  reminiscence  turned  on  none  but  pleasant  facts  and  char- 
acteristics 1  Life  must,  indeed  be  slow  in  that  little  decaying 
hamlet  amongst  the  chalk  hills.  After  all,  depend  upon  it,  it  is 

VOL.  IT.  P 


226  THE  BRONTES 

better  to  be  worn  out  with  work  In  a  thronged  community  than 
to  perish  of  inaction  in  a  stagnant  solitude :  take  this  truth  into 
consideration  whenever  you  get  tired  of  work  and  bustle. — 
Believe  me,  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  524 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,/#/J/  27^,  1851. 

DEAR  NELL, — I  hope  you  have  taken  no  cold  from  your 
wretched  journey  home;  you  see  you  should  have  taken  my 
advice  and  stayed  till  Saturday.  Didn't  I  tell  you  I  had  a  c  pre- 
sentiment '  it  would  be  better  for  you  to  do  so  ? 

I  am  glad  you  found  your  mother  pretty  well.  Is  she  disposed 
to  excuse  the  wretched  petrified  condition  of  the  bilberry  preserve, 
in  consideration  of  the  intent  of  the  donor?  It  seems  they  had 
high  company  while  you  were  away.  You  see  what  you  lose  by 
•coming  to  Haworth.  No  events  here  since  your  departure  except 
a  long  letter  from  Miss  Martineau.  (She  did  not  write  the  article 
on  c Woman3  in  the  Westminster,  by  the  way,  it  is  the  production 
of  a  man,  and  one  of  the  first  philosophers,  and  political  economists 
and  metaphysicians  of  the  day.)  Item,  the  departure  of  Mr. 
Nicholls  for  Ireland,  and  his  inviting  himself  on  the  eve  thereof  to 
come  and  take  a  farewell  tea ;  good,  mild,  uncontentious.  Item,  a 
note  from  the  stiff  little  chap  who  called  about  the  epitaph  for  his 
cousin.  I  enclose  this ;  a  finer  gem  in  its  way  it  would  be  difficult 
to  conceive.  You  need  not  however  be  at  the  trouble  of  returning 
it  How  are  they  at  Hunsworth  yet  ?  It  is  no  use  saying  whether 
I  am  solitary  or  not ;  I  drive  on  very  well,  and  papa  continues 
pretty  well— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  525 

TO  MRS.  GASKELL 

HAWORTH,  August  6thy  1851. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  GASKELL,— I  was  too  much  pleased  with  your 
letter,  when  I  got  it  at  last,  to  feel  disposed  to  murmur  now 
about  the  delay. 

About  a  fortnight  ago  I  received  a  letter  from  Miss  Martineau : 
a  long  letter,  and  treating  precisely  the  same  subjects  on  which 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  227 

yours  dwelt,  viz.  the  Exhibition  and  Thackeray's  last  lecture. 
It  was  interesting  mentally  to  place  the  two  documents  side  by 
side — to  study  the  two  aspects  of  mind — to  view  alternately 
the  same  scene  through  two  mediums.  Full  striking  was  the 
•difference ;  and  the  more  striking  because  it  was  not  the  rough 
contrast  of  good  and  evil,  but  the  more  subtle  opposition,  the 
irnore  delicate  diversity  of  different  kinds  of  good.  The  ex- 
cellences of  one  nature  resembled  (I  thought)  that  of  some 
sovereign  medicine — harsh,  perhaps,  to  the  taste,  but  potent  to 
invigorate ;  the  good  of  the  other  seemed  more  akin  to  the 
flourishing  efficacy  of  our  daily  bread.  It  is  not  bitter;  it  is 
not  lusciously  sweet ;  it  pleases  without  flattering  the  palate ;  £t 
-sustains  without  forcing  the  strength. 

I  very  much  agree  with  you  in  all  you  say.  For  the  sake  of 
variety  I  could  almost  wish  that  the  concord  of  opinion  were  less 
complete. 

To  begin  with  Trafalgar  Square.  My  taste  goes  with  yours 
and  Meta's  completely  on  this  point.  I  have  always  thought  it 
a  fine  site  (and  sight  also).  The  view  from  the  summit  of  those 
-steps  has  ever  struck  me  as  grand  and  imposing — Nelson  Column 
included :  the  fountains  I  could  dispense  with.  With  respect, 
also,  to  the  Crystal  Palace,  my  thoughts  are  precisely  yours. 

Then  I  feel  sure  you  speak  justly  of  Thackeray's  lecture.  You 
-do  well  to  set  aside  odious  comparisons,  and  to  wax  impatient 
•of  that  trite  twaddle  about  (  nothing-newness ' — a  jargon  which 
•simply  proves,  in  those  who  habitually  use  it,  a  coarse  and  feeble 
faculty  of  appreciation  ;  an  inability  to  discern  the  relative  value 
of  originality  and  novelty  ;  a  lack  of  that  refined  perception  which, 
dispensing  with  the  stimulus  of  an  ever  new  subject,  can  derive 
•sufficiency  of  pleasure  from  freshness  of  treatment.  To  such 
•critics  the  prime  of  a  summer  morning  would  bring  no  delight ; 
wholly  occupied  with  railing  at  their  cook  for  not  having  provided 
.a  novel  and  piquant  breakfast  dish,  they  would  remain  insensible 
to  such  influences  as  lie  in  sunrise,  dew,  and  breeze:  therein 
-would  be  '  nothing  new.' 

Is  it  Mr. Js  family  experience  which  has  influenced  your 

feelings  About  the  Catholics  ?  I  own  I  cannot  be  sorry  for  this 
•commencing  change.  Good  people — very  good  people — I  doubt 
not,  there  are  amongst  the  Romanists,  but  the  system  is  not  one 
-which  should  have  such  sympathy  as  yours.  Look  at  Popery- 
taking  off  the  mask  in  Naples ! 


228  THE  BRONTES 

I  have  read  The  Sainfs  Tragedy}*  As  a  '  work  of  art '  it  seems 
to  me  far  superior  to  either  Alton  Locke  or  Yeast.  Faulty  it  may 
be,  crude  and  unequal,  yet  there  are  portions  where  some  of  the 
deep  chords  of  human  nature  are  swept  with  a  hand  which  is 
strong  even  while  it  falters.  We  see  throughout  (I  think)  that 
Elizabeth  has  not,  and  never  had,  a  mind  perfectly  sane.  From 
the  time  that  she  was  what  she  herself,  in  the  exaggeration  of 
her  humility,  calls  £  an  idiot  girl/  to  the  hour  when  she  lay  moan- 
ing in  visions  on  her  dying  bed,  a  slight  craze  runs  through  her 
whole  existence.  This  is  good :  this  is  true.  A  sound  mind,  a 
healthy  intellect,  would  have  dashed  the  priest  power  to  the  wall ;. 
would  have  defended  her  natural  affections  from  his  grasp,  as  a 
lioness  defends  her  young ;  would  have  been  as  true  to  husband 
and  children  as  your  leal-hearted  little  Maggie  was  to  her  Frank. 
Only  a  mind  weak  with  some  fatal  flaw  could  have  been  influenced 
as  was  this  poor  saint's.  But  what  anguish — what  struggles! 
Seldom  do  I  cry  over  books,  but  here  my  eyes  rained  as  I  read. 
When  Elizabeth  turns  her  face  to  the  wall — I  stopped — there 
needed  no  more. 

Deep  truths  are  touched  on  in  this  tragedy — touched  on,  not 
fully  elicited— truths  that  stir  a  peculiar  pity,  a  compassion  hot 
with  wrath  and  bitter  with  pain.  This  is  no  poet's  dream :  we 
know  that  such  things  have  been  done ;  that  minds  have  been 
thus  subjected,  and  lives  thus  laid  waste. 

Remember  me  kindly  and  respectfully  to  Mr.  Gaskell,  and 
though  I  have  not  seen  Marianne  I  must  beg  to  include  her  in  the 
love  I  send  the  others.  Could  you  manage  to  convey  a  small  kiss 
to  that  dear  but  dangerous  little  person  Julia  ?  She  surreptitiously 
possessed  herself  of  a  minute  fraction  of  my  heart,  which  has 
been  missing  ever  since  I  saw  her.  Believe  me  sincerely  and 
affectionately  yours,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  526 

TO  MRS.  GASKELL 

[Undated^ 

Whenever  I  see  Florence  and  Julia  again  I  shall  feel  like  a 
fond  but  bashful  suitor,  who  views  at  a  distance  the  fair  personage 
to  whom,  in  his  clownish  awe,  he  dare  not  risk  a  near  approach. 

1  Tfa  Sfftnt's  Tragedy;  0r,  tkc  True  Story  of  Elisatetk  tf  Hungary,  by  Charles 
JCingsley,  was  published  in  1848. 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  229 

Such  is  the  clearest  Idea  I  can  give  you  of  my  feeling  towards 
children  I  like,  but  to  whom  I  am  a  stranger.  And  to  what 
children  am  I  not  a  stranger?  They  seem  to  me  little  wonders  ; 
their  talk,  their  ways  are  all  matter  of  half-admiring,  half-puzzled 
speculation. 

Letter  527 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

August  iWi,  1851 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  write  a  line  to  you  because  you  will  be  ex- 
pecting me  to  answer  your  last,  not  because  I  have  anything  worth 
hearing  to  say.  You  will  wonder  about  the  papers  not  coming 
as  usual  last  week.  I  never  got  the  Leader  at  all.  As  to  the  Ex- 
aminer, papa  took  a  fancy  to  keep  a  long  leading  article  about  the 
Ecclesiastical  Titles  Bill,  and  also  another  on  some  other  subject ; 
accordingly  he  cut  them  out,  and  it  was  not  worth  while  to  send 
the  paper  thus  mutilated.  The  French  paper  I  despatch  to-day. 

Your  account  of  Mr.  Harding  possesses  a  certain  interest  from 
one's  having  often  heard  his  name  before.  He  seems  to  have 
impressed  you  rather  favourably  than  otherwise.  Joe  Taylor 
describes  him  as  an  enthusiastic  man,  but  so  coloured  and  turned  his 
description  as  to  give  one  the  idea  of  a  sort  of  spurious  enthusiasm  ; 
something  flighty  and  skin  deep.  This  is  a  low  quality ;  as  low- 
as  the  genuine  fire  is  lofty ;  that  genuine  fire  is  however  so  rare, 
I  can  scarcely  believe  in  Mr.  Harding's  possessing  it  His  Scotch 
physiognomy  is  however  something  in  his  favour,  if  Scotch  it  be. 
I  hope  your  mother  and  all  at  Brookroyd  continue  pretty  well, 
as  papa,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  does.  Tell  me  what  you  think  of 
Georgiana  after  you  have  paid  your  visit. 

I  have  been  very  well  ever  since  you  were  here  and  am  really 
fatter  now,  though  I  don't  know  how-  long  it  will  last  Papa 
continues  as  usual,  but  he  frequently  complains  of  weakness,  and 
laeeds  often  renewed  encouragement  It  is  now  getting  dark 
—Yours  faithfully,  C  BRONTE- 

Letter  528 

TQ  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

September  i*/,  1851. 

DEAR  NELL, — I  have  mislaid  your  last  letter,  so  cannot  look  it 
over  to  see  what  there  is  in  it  to  answer,  but  it  is  time  it  was 


230  THE  BRONTES 

answered  in  some  fashion  whether  I  have  anything  to  say  or  not* 
Miss  C.  Wooler's  note  is  very  like  her.  Mrs.  Joe  Taylor  wrote  to 
me  a  week  or  a  fortnight  since,  a  well-meaning,  amiable  little  note. 
Mr.  Morgan  was  here  last  Monday ;  fat,  well,  and  hearty, — he  came 
to  breakfast  by  nine  o'clock ;  he  brought  me  a  lot  of  tracts  as  a 
present. 

It  is  useless  to  tell  you  how  I  live, — I  endure  life,  but  whether 
I  enjoy  it  or  not  is  another  question.  However,  I  get  on.  The 
weather,  I  think,  has  not  been  good  lately  or  else  the  beneficial 
effects  of  change  of  air  and  scene  are  evaporating  in  spite  of 
regular  exercise.  The  old  headaches,  and  starting  wakeful  nights- 
are  coming  upon  me  again.  But  I  do  get  on,  and  have  neither 
wish  nor  right  to  complain. 

Georgiana  would  be  the  better  for  going  out  for  a  year  as  maid- 
of-all-work,  or  plain  cook  in  a  respectable  family. 

Papa,  it  cheers  me  to  say,  has  continued  pretty  well  during  the 
time  of  Mr.  Nicholls1  absence.  I  hope  your  mother  is  well,  and 
Mary  *  blooming  *  as  Amelia  says,  and  buxom.  Also  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Clapham.— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  529 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

September  ioth,  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  was  indulging  the  hope  that  as  you  had  not 
written  again  your  mother  was  better ;  even  after  what  you  say,, 
the  impression  left  on  my  mind  is  that  you  are  not  to  lose  her 
yet  I  think  her  constitutional  tenacity  of  life  will  bear  her 
through  this  attack,  and  perhaps  others  yet  to  come.  We  cannot 
be  sure  of  this,  but  it  is  my  strong  persuasion ;  it  is  no  doubt  the 
turn  of  the  year  which  is  now  trying  her,  and  perhaps  something 
more.  The  weather  here  has  of  late  been  peculiar;  changing 
rapidly  from  hot  to  cold,  its  effects  have  been  much  felt  by  the  old 
and  weakly.  Papa  so  far  has  borne  it  well.  To-day  is  very 
beautiful.  I  trust  it  will  favour  your  mother's  improvement. 
One  of  the  worst  results  of  her  illness  may  be  that  you  will 
overfatigne  yourself,  and  it  is  difficult  to  give  advice  on  this 
point ;  you  can  but  act  for  the  best,  and  get  fresh  air  and  repose 
when  it  is  in  your  power.  I  hope  you  will  very  soon  write  me  a 
line  however  brief.— Yours  faithfully,  C,  BRONTE, 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  231 

Letter  530 

TO   MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  September  13^,  '51. 

MY  DEAR  MISS  WOOLER, — I  have  no  intention  of  going  from 
home  during  the  next  three  weeks,  but  I  wish  you  would  just 

make  up  your  mind  to  come  to  Haworth  now.  Miss  S might 

come  too  if  you  thought  proper ;  and  if  it  would  be  any  pleasure 
to  her,  I  should  be  glad  to  see  her.  At  present  the  weather  is 
fine ;  when  it  once  breaks,  it  may  be  long  before  it  settles  again, 
and  you  would  find  the  place  too  dull  in  wet  weather.  DC  come 
on  Tuesday  afternoon^  you  and  Miss  S . 

Write  a  little  note  to  me  on  Monday  to  say  you  will  come,  and 
I  will  have  your  room  duly  aired  and  all  ready. — Sincerely  and 
affectionately  yours,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  531 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

September  i7/#,  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  well  know  what  you  are  now  going  through, 
and  very  sincerely  in  my  heart  do  I  feel  with  and  for  you,  and  very 
earnestly  do  I  trust  that  the  strength  and  patience  you  have  so 
far  manifested  may  be  continued  through  the  heavier  trial  which 
seems  near.  It  appears  to  me,  as  to  you,  that  those  symptoms 
must  be  the  precursors  of  dissolution.  I  fancy  your  brother  will 
find  his  mother  a  little  worse  than  in  his  cold-blooded  tranquillity 
he  seems  to  anticipate.  Excuse  the  epithet  *  cold-blooded ' — it  is 
richly  deserved.  Love  him,  however,  as  well  as  you  can — make 
what  allowance  you  can — he  is  your  brother.  Let  him  be  brought 
face  to  face  with  Death  as  according  to  probabilities  he  seems 
likely  to  be ;  it  will  bring  him  a  little  to  his  senses. 

I  shall  write  no  more.  You  need  no  advice.  May  God  sustain 
you.— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  532 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

Saturday •,  September  2O/£,  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — That  scene  you  describe  was  truly  trying  and 
bitter,  but  accept  it  as  an  inevitable  thing.  These  poor  people 
acted,  I  believe,  partly  In  dense  ignorance  as  well  as  in  pride. 


232  THE  BRONTES 

They  cannot  help  being  very  vulgar  in  their  mode  of  showing 
their  feelings  Endure,  pity,  forgive  as  well  as  you  can.  But  the 
'unkindest  cut'  of  all,  and  certainly  the  strangest,  was  your 
brother's  conduct,  yet  it  hardly  surprised  me.  Illness  sometimes 
makes  an  inexplicable  rack  of  the  mind,  and  unaccountably  per- 
verts the  feelings.  A  seeming  unkindness  and  ingratitude  in 
beings  tenderly  loved  and  cherished  and  waited  on  in  their 
sufferings  with  devoted  patience  is,  I  incline  to  believe,  a  species 
of  torture  oftener  experienced  than  confessed  ;  cruel  is  the  anguish 
it  strikes  through  the  heart.  I  can  only  account  for  it  by  suppos- 
ing that  the  soul  is  sick  as  well  as  the  body.  One  knows  not 
what  the  poor  sufferers  control  and  refuse  in  the  way  of  peevish 
and  unjust  impulses.  Alas!  a  sick-bed  has  heart-rending  accom- 
paniments. Courage,  my  dear  Ellen.  I  can  only  wish  you,  in 
addition,  comfort  and  peace.  That  your  health  will  more  or  less 
suffer  for  all  this  must  be  expected. 

Richard  and  £liza  will  have  their  overcast  days  sometime,  and 
perhaps  they  will  then  see  their  present  conduct  in  a  different 
light  to  what  they  do  now. — Believe  me,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Continue,   dear  Nell,    to    be  as  patient  as  you  possibly   can 

with ,    They  are  objects  of  pity.    I  could  break  out  In  strong 

language,  but  resist. 

Letter  533 

TO  MRS.  GASKELL 

September  zotfi,  1851. 

.  .  .  Beautiful  are  those  sentences  out  of  James  Martineau's 
sermons  ;  some  of  them  gems  most  pure  and  genuine  ;  ideas  deeply 
conceived,  finely  expressed.  I  should  like  much  to  see  his  review 
of  his  sister's  book.  Of  all  the  articles  respecting  which  you  ques- 
tion me  I  have  seen  none,  except  that  notable  one  in  the  West- 
minster on  the  Emancipation  of  Women.  But  why  are  you  and 
I  to  think  (perhaps  I  should  rather  say  to  feel)  so  exactly  alike 
on  some  points  that  there  can  be  no  discussion  between  us  ?  Your 
words  on  this  paper  express  my  thoughts.  Well  argued  it  is — 
clear,  logical — but  vast  is  the  hiatus  of  omission  ;  harsh  the  con- 
sequent jar  on  every  finer  chord  of  the  soul.  What  is  this  hiatus  ? 
I  think  I  know;  and  knowing,  I  will  venture  to  say.  I  think 
the  writer  forgets  there  is  such  a  thing  as  self-sacrificing  love  and 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  2S3 

disinterested  devotion.  .  .  ,  I  believe  J.  S.  Mill  would  make  a  hard, 
dry,  dismal  world  of  it ;  and  yet  he  speaks  admirabfe  sense  through 
a  great  portion  of  his  article,  especially  when  he  says  that  if  there 
be  a  natural  unfitness  in  women  for  men's  employment  there  is  no 
need  to  make  laws  on  the  subject ;  leave  all  careers  open  ;  let  them 
try  ;  those  who  ought  to  succeed  will  succeed,  or,  at  least,  will  have 
a  fair  chance  ;  the  incapable  will  fall  back  into  their  right  place. 
He  likewise  disposes  of  the  *  maternity  *  question  very  neatly.  .  .  . 
You  are  right  when  you  say  that  there  Is  a  large  margin  in  human 
nature  over  which  the  logicians  have  r>o  dominion  ;  glad  am  I  that 
it  is  so. 

I  send  by  this  post  Ruskin's  Stones  of  Venice^  and  I  hope  you 
and  Meta  will  find  passages  in  it  that  will  please  you.  Some  parts 
would  be  dry  and  technical  were  it  not  for  the  character,  the  marked 
individuality,  which  pervades  every  page.  I  wish  Marianne  had 
come  to  speak  to  me  at  the  lecture ;  it  would  have  given  me  such 
pleasure.  What  you  say  of  that  small  sprite  Julia  amuses  me  very 
much.  I  believe  you  don't  know  that  she  has  a  great  deal  of  her 
mamma's  nature  (modified)  in  her,  yet  I  think  you  will  find  she 
has  as  she  grows  up. 

Will  it  not  be  a  great  mistake  if  Mr.  Thackeray  should  deliver 
his  lectures  at  Manchester  under  such  circumstances  and  conditions 
as  will  exclude  people  like  you  and  Mr.  Gaskell  from  the  number 
of  his  audience?  I  thought  his  London  plan  too  narrow.  Charles 
Dickens  would  not  thus  limit  his  sphere  of  action. 

You  charge  me  to  write  about  myself.  What  can  I  say  on  that 
precious  topic?  My  health  is  pretty  good.  My  spirits  are  not 
always  alike.  Nothing  happens  to  me.  I  hope  and  expect  little 
in  this  world,  and  am  thankful  that  I  do  not  despond  and  suffer 
more.  Thank  you  for  inquiring  after  our  old  servant ;  she  is  pretty 
well ;  the  little  shawl,  etc.,  pleased  her  much.  Papa,  likewise,  I  am 
glad  to  say,  is  pretty  well.  With  his  and  my  kindest  regards  to> 
you  and  Mr,  Gaskell,  believe  me  sincerely  and  affectionately  yours, 

C.  BRONTE* 

Letter  534 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  September  itnd^  1851. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  WOOLER, — Our  visitor  (a  relative  from  Corn- 
wall) having  left  us,  the  coast  is  now  clear,  so  that  whenever  you 


234  THE  BRONTES 

feel  inclined  to  come,  papa  and  I  will  be  truly  glad  to  see  you.  F 
do  wish  the  splendid  weather  we  have  had  and  are  having  may 
accompany  you  here.  I  fear  I  have  somewhat  grudged  the  fine 
days,  fearing  a  change  before  you  come. — Believe  me,  with  papa's- 
regards,  yours  respectfully  and  affectionately,  C.  BRONTE. 

Come  soon ;  if  you  can,  on  Wednesday. 

Letter  535 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

September  z6t%,  1851. 

As  I  laid  down  your  letter,  after  reading  with  interest  the- 
graphic  account  it  gives  of  a  very  striking  scene,  I  could  not 
help  feeling  with  renewed  force  a  truth,  trite  enough,  yet  ever 
impressive,  viz.  that  it  is  good  to  be  attracted  out  of  ourselves, 
to  be  forced  to  take  a  near  view  of  the  sufferings,  the  privations, 
the  efforts,  the  difficulties  of  others.  If  we  ourselves  live  in 
fulness  of  content,  it  is  well  to  be  reminded  that  thousands  of  our 
fellow  creatures  undergo  a  different  lot ;  it  is  well  to  have  sleepy 
sympathies  excited,  and  lethargic  selfishness  shaken  up.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  we  be  contending  with  the  special  grief — the 
intimate  trial — the  peculiar  bitterness  with  which  God  has  seen 
fit  to  mingle  our  own  cup  of  existence,  it  is  very  good  to  know 
that  our  overcast  lot  is  not  singular;  it  stills  the  repining  word 
and  thought — it  rouses  the  flagging  strength,  to  have  it  vividly 
set  before  us  that  there  are  countless  afflictions  in  the  world,  each 
perhaps  rivalling — some  surpassing — the  private  pain  over  which 
we  are  too  prone  exclusively  to  sorrow. 

All  those  crowded  emigrants  had  their  troubles — their  untoward 
causes  of  banishment;  you,  the  looker-on,  had  'your  wishes 
and  regrets ' — your  anxieties,  alloying  your  home  happiness  and 
domestic  bliss;  and  the  parallel  might  be  pursued  further,  and 
still  it  would  be  true — still  the  same;  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  for 
each  ;  some  burden,  some  conflict  for  all. 

How  far  this  state  of  things  is  susceptible  of  amelioration  from 
changes  in  public  institutions — alterations  in  national  habits — 
may  and  ought  to  be  earnestly  considered :  but  this  is  a  problem 
not  easily  solved.  The  evils,  as  you  point  them  out,  are  great,, 
real,  and  most  obvious :  the  remedy  is  obscure  and  vague ;  yet 
for  such  difficulties  as  spring  from  over-competition  emigration 
must  be  good ;  the  new  life  in  a  new  country  must  give  a  new 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  235 

lease  of  hope ;  the  wider  field,  less  thickly  peopled,  must  open  a 
new  path  for  endeavour.  But  I  always  think  great  physical 
powers  of  exertion  and  endurance  ought  to  accompany  such  a 
step.  ...  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  that  an  original  writer  has 
fallen  in  your  way.  Originality  Is  the  pearl  of  great  price  in 
literature — the  rarest,  the  most  precious  claim  by  which  an  author 
can  be  recommended.  Are  not  your  publishing  prospects  for 
the  coming  season  tolerably  rich  and  satisfactory  ?  You  inquire 
after  '  Currer  Bell/  It  seems  to  me  that  the  absence  of  his  name 
from  your  list  of  announcements  will  leave  no  blank,  and  that 
he  may  at  least  spare  himself  the  disquietude  of  thinking  he  is- 
wanted  when  it  is  certainly  not  his  lot  to  appear. 

Perhaps  Currer  Bell  has  his  secret  moan  about  these  matters ; 
but  if  so  he  will  keep  it  to  himself.  It  is  an  affair  about  which 
no  words  need  be  wasted,  for  no  words  can  make  a  change ;  it 
is  between  him  and  his  position,  his  faculties  and  his  fate. 

C  BRONTE. 


Letter  536 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

October  yrd,  1851. 

DEAR  NELL, — Do  not  think  I  have  forgotten  you  because  I 
have  not  written  since  your  last ;  every  day  I  have  had  you  more 
or  less  in  my  thoughts  and  wondered  how  your  mother  was 
getting  on ;  let  me  have  a  line  of  information  as  soon  as  possible. 
I  have  been  busy,  first  with  a  somewhat  unexpected  visitor,  a 
cousin  from  Cornwall  who  has  been  spending  a  few  days  with  usr 
and  now  with  Miss  Wooler  who  came  on  Monday.  The  former 
personage  we  can  discuss  any  time  when  we  meet.  Miss  Wooler 
is  and  has  been  very  pleasant.  She  is  like  good  wine ;  I  think 
time  improves  her,  and  really,  whatever  she  may  be  in  person,  in 
mind  she  is  younger  than  when  at  Roe  Head.  Papa  and  she  get 
on  extremely  well ;  I  have  just  heard  papa  walk  into  the  dining- 
room  and  pay  her  a  round  compliment  on  her  good  sense.  I  think 
so  far  she  has  been  pretty  comfortable  and  likes  Haworth,  but  as 
she  only  brought  a  small  hand-basket  of  luggage  with  her  she 
cannot  stay  long. 

How  are  you  ?  Write  directly.  With  my  love  to  your  mother* 
etc.,  good-bye,  dear  Nell. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 


236  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  537 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

October  3o//r,  '5 1. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  not  at  all  intending  to  go  from  home  at 
present,  I  have  just  refused  successively  Miss  Martineau,  Mrs. 
Gaskell,  and  Mrs.  Forster.  I  could  not  go  if  I  would,  one  person 
after  another  in  the  house  has  been  ailing  for  the  last  month  or 
more.  First  Tabby  had  the  influenza,  then  Martha  took  it,  and 
is  ill  in  bed  now  with  quinsy,  her  second  attack,  and  I  grieve  to 
say  papa  too  has  taken  cold.  So  far  I  keep  pretty  well,  and  am 
thankful  for  it,  for  who  else  would  nurse  them  all.  Some  painful 
mental  worry  I  have  gone  through  this  autumn,  but  there  is  no  use 
in  dwelling  on  all  that.  At  present  I  seem  to  have  some  respite. 
I  feel  more  disinclined  than  ever  for  letter- writing.  I  am  glad 
that  your  mother  is  better,  and  that  the  Hunsworth  people  are 
going  on  well.  Cease  to  expect  me  at  Brookroyd,  I  would  rather 
you  came  to  Haworth,  I  should  see  more  of  you.  Life  is  a 
struggle.  Good-bye. — Yours  sincerely,  C.  B, 

Letter  538 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

November  4tky  '51. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Papa,  Tabby,  and  Martha  are  at  present  all 
better,  yet  none  of  them  well.  Martha  at  present  looks  feeble,  I 
wish  she  had  a  better  constitution ;  as  it  is,  one  is  always  afraid 
of  giving  her  too  much  to  do,  and  yet  there  are  many  things  I 
cannot  undertake  myself,  and  we  do  not  like  to  change  when  we 
have  had  her  so  long.  How  are  you  getting  on  in  the  matter  of 
servants?  The  other  day  I  received  a  long  letter  from  India. 
I  told  you  I  did  not  expect  to  hear  thence,  nor  did  L  The  letter 
Is  long,  but  it  is  worth  your  while  to  read  It.  In  its  way  it  has 
merit,  that  cannot  be  denied  ;  abundance  of  information,  talent  of 
a  certain  kind,  alloyed  (I  think)  here  and  there  with  errors  of 
taste.  He  might  have  spared  many  of  the  details  of  the  bath 
scene,  which  for  the  rest  tallies  exactly  with  Mr.  Thackeray's 
account  of  the  same  process.  This  little  man  with  all  his  long 
letters  remains  as  much  a  conundrum  to  me  as  ever.  Your 
account  of  the  domestic  joys  at  Hutisworth  amused  me  much. 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  237 

The  good  folks  seem  very  happy,  long  may  they  continue  so ! 
It  somewhat  cheers  me  to  know  that  such  happiness  does  exist  on 
the  earth.  Return  Mr.  Taylor's  letter  when  you  have  read  it. 
With  love  to  your  mother,  I  am,  dear  Nell,  sincerely  yours, 

C.  B. 

Letter  539 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

November  6f%,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  true  pleasure  in  enclosing  for  your  son 
Frank  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Mrs.  Gaskell,  and  earnestly  do  I 
trust  the  acquaintance  may  tend  to  his  good.  To  make  all  sure — 
for  I  dislike  to  go  on  doubtful  grounds — I  wrote  to  ask  her  if  she 
would  permit  the  introduction.  Her  frank,  kind  answer  pleased 
me  greatly. 

I  have  received  the  books.  I  hope  to  write  again  when  I  have 
read  The  Fair  Carew.  The  very  title  augurs  well — it  has  no 
hackneyed  sound. — Believe  me,  sincerely  yours,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  540 

TO  MRS.  GASKELL 

November  6tft>  1851. 

If  anybody  would  tempt  me  from  home  you  would;  but,  just 
now,  from  home  I  must  not,  will  not  go.  I  feel  greatly  better  at 
present  than  I  did  three  weeks  ago.  For  a  month  or  six  weeks 
about  the  equinox  (autumnal  or  vernal)  is  a  period  of  the  year 
which,  I  have  noticed,  strangely  tries  me.  Sometimes  the  strain 
falls  on  the  mental,  sometimes  on  the  physical  part  of  me ;  I  am 
ill  with  neuralgic  headache,  or  I  am  ground  to  the  dust  with  deep 
dejection  of  spirits  (not,  however,  such  dejection  but  I  can  keep 
to  myself).  That  weary  time  has,  I  think  and  trust,  got  over  for 
this  year.  It  was  the  anniversary  of  my  poor  brother's  death, 
and  of  my  sister's  failing  health :  I  need  say  no  more. 

As  to  running  away  from  home  every  time  I  have  a  battle  of 
this  sort  to  fight,  it  would  not  do:  besides  the  c weird *  would 
follow.  As  to  shaking  it  off,  that  cannot  be.  I  have  declined  to 
go  to  Mrs.  Forster,  to  Miss  Martineau,  and  now  I  decline  to  go  to 
you,  But  listen !  do  not  think  that  I  throw  your  kindness  away^ 
or  that  it  fails  of  doing  the  good  you  desire.  On  the  contrary. 


238  THE  BRONTfiS 

the  feeling  expressed  in  your  letter — proved  by  your  invitation — 
goes  right  home  where  you  would  have  it  to  go,  and  heals  as  you 
would  have  it  to  heal. 

Your  description  of  Frederika  Bremer  tallies  exactly  with  one 
I  read  somewhere,  in  I  know  not  what  book.  I  laughed  out  when 
I  got  to  the  mention  of  Frederika's  special  accomplishment,  given 
by  you  with  a  distinct  simplicity  that,  to  my  taste,  is  what  the 
French  would  call  (  Impayable.'  Where  do  you  find  the  foreigner 
who  is  without  some  little  drawback  of  this  description  ?  It  is  a 
pity.  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  541 

TO  JAMES   TAYLOR,   BOMBAY 

HAWORTH,  November  i$fh,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Both  your  communications  reached  me  safely 
— the  note  of  the  I7th  September  and  the  letter  of  the  2nd 
October.  You  do  yourself  less  than  justice  when  you  stigmatise 
the  latter  as  ( ill-written/  I  found  it  quite  legible,  nor  did  I  lose 
a  word,  though  the  lines  and  letters  were  so  close.  I  should  have 
been  sorry  if  such  had  not  been  the  case,  as  it  appeared  to  me 
throughout  highly  interesting.  It  is  observable  that  the  very 
same  information  which  we  have  previously  collected,  perhaps 
with  rather  languid  attention,  from  printed  books,  when  placed 
before  us  in  familiar  manuscript,  and  comprising  the  actual 
experience  of  a  person  with  whom  we  are  acquainted,  acquires  a 
new  and  vital  interest:  when  we  know  the  narrator  we  seem  to 
realise  the  tale. 

The  bath  scene  amused  me  much.  Your  account  of  that  opera- 
tion tallies  in  every  point  with  Mr.  Thackeray's  description  in  the 
Journey  from  Cornhill  to  Grand  Cairo.  The  usage  seems  a  little 
rough,  and  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  equal  benefit  might  be 
obtained  through  less  violent  means ;  but  I  suppose  without  the 
previous  fatigue  the  after-sensation  would  not  be  so  enjoyable, 
and  no  doubt  it  is  that  indolent  after-sensation  which  the  self- 
indulgent  Mahometans  chiefly  cultivate.  I  think  you  did  right 
to  disdain  it 

It  would  seem  to  me  a  matter  of  great  regret  that  the  society  at 
Bombay  should  be  so  deficient  in  all  intellectual  attraction. 
Perhaps,  however,  your  occupations  will  so  far  absorb  your 
thoughts  as  to  prevent  them  from  dwelling  painfully  on  this 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  239 

circumstance.  No  doubt  there  will  be  moments  when  you  will 
look  back  to  London  and  Scotland,  and  the  friends  you  have  left 
there,  with  some  yearning ;  but  I  suppose  business  has  its  own 
excitement  The  new  country,  the  new  scenes  too,  must  have 
their  interest;  and  as  you  will  not  lack  books  to  fill  your 
leisure,  you  will  probably  soon  become  reconciled  to  a  change 
which,  for  some  minds,  would  too  closely  resemble  exile. 

I  fear  the  climate — such  as  you  describe  it — must  be  very 
trying  to  an  European  constitution.  In  your  first  letter,  you 
mentioned  October  as  the  month  of  danger;  it  is  now  over. 
Whether  you  have  passed  its  ordeal  safely  must  yet  for  some 
weeks  remain  unknown  to  your  friends  in  England — they  can  but 
wish  that  such  may  be  the  case.  You  will  not  expect  me  to  write 
a  letter  that  shall  form  a  parallel  with  your  own  either  in  quantity 
or  quality ;  what  I  write  must  be  brief,  and  what  I  communicate 
must  be  commonplace  and  of  trivial  interest 

My  father,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  continues  in  pretty  good 
health.  I  read  portions  of  your  letter  to  him  and  he  was  interested 
in  hearing  them.  He  charged  me  when  I  wrote  to  convey  his 
very  kind  remembrances. 

I  had  myself  ceased  to  expect  a  letter  from  you.  On  taking 
leave  at  Haworth  you  said  something  about  writing  from  India, 
but  I  doubted  at  the  time  whether  it  was  not  one  of  those  forms 
of  speech  which  politeness  dictates;  and  as  time  passed,  and  I 
did  not  hear  from  you,  I  became  confirmed  in  this  view  of  the 
subject  With  every  good  wish  for  your  welfare, — I  am,  yours 
sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  542 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

Novtmfar  igtti,  '51. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — All  here  is  much  as  usual  and  I  was  thinking 
of  writing  to  you  this  morning  when  I  received  your  note.  I  am 
glad  to  hear  your  mother  bears  this  severe  weather  tolerably,  as 
papa  does  also.  I  had  a  cold  chiefly  in  the  throat  and  chest,  but 
I  applied  cold  water  which  relieved  me,  I  think,  far  better  than 
hot  applications  would  have  done.  The  only  events  in  my  life 
consist  in  that  little  change  occasional  letters  bring.  I  have  had 
two  from  Miss  Wooler  since  she  left  Haworth  which  touched  me 
much.  She  seems  to  think  so  much  of  a  little  congenial  com- 


240  THE  BRONTES 

pany.  She  says  she  has  not  for  many  days  known  such  enjoy- 
ment as  she  experienced  during  the  ten  days  she  stayed  here. 
Yet  you  know  what  Haworth  is,  dull  enough. 

How  could  you  imagine  your  last  letter  offended  me?  I  only 
disagreed  with  you  on  one  point.  The  little  man's  disdain  of  the 
sensual  pleasure  of  a  Turkish  bath  had,  I  must  own,  my  approval. 
Before  answering  his  epistle  I  got  up  my  courage  to  write  to 
Mr,  Williams,  through  whose  hands,  or  those  of  Mr.  Smith,  I  knew 
the  Indian  letter  had  come,  and  beg  him  to  give  me  an  impartial 
judgment  of  Mr,  Taylor's  character  and  disposition,  owning  that  I 
was  very  much  in  the  dark.  I  did  not  like  to  continue  corre- 
spondence without  further  information.  I  got  the  answer  which  I 
enclose.  You  say  nothing  about  the  Hunsworth  Turtle-doves, 
how  are  they?  and  how  is  the  branch  of  promise?  I  hope  doing 
well— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONT& 


Letter  543 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

December  1851. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — This  last  week  has  been  very  trying  here. 
Papa  has  borne  it  unhurt,  but  these  winds  and  changes  have 
given  me  a  bad  cold  of  influenza  character.  Poor  old  Keeper 


*  KEEPER," 


died  last  Monday  morning;  after  being  ill  all  night,  he  went 
gently  to  sleep.  We  laid  his  old  faithful  head  in  the  garden. 
Flossy  Is  dull  and  misses  him.  There  was  something  very  sad 
in  losing  the  old  dog;  yet  I  am  glad  he  met  a  natural  fate; 
people  kept  hinting  he  ought  to  be  put  away,  which  neither 
papa  nor  I  liked  to  think  of.  If  I  could  get  cod-liver  oil, 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  241 

fresh  and  sweet,  I  really  would  take  your  advice  and  try  it. 
We  have  got  curtains  for  the  dining-room.  I  ordered  them  at 
the  Factory  to  be  dyed  crimson,  but  they  are  badly  dyed  and 
do  not  please  me. 

I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  of  your  mother's  improvement.  The 
doctors  cannot  now  deny  that  she  has  fairly  given  them  the  slip, 
I  admire  her,  clever  old  lady ! 

You  ask  me  about  the  Lily  and  the  Bee.  If  you  have  read  it, 
dear  Ellen,  you  have  effected  an  exploit  beyond  me.  I  glanced 
at  a  few  pages  and  laid  it  down  hopeless,  nor  can  I  find  courage 
to  resume  it.  Margaret  Maitland  is  a  good  book  and  will  just 
suit  your  mother. — I  am,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  544 

TO  ELLEN    NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  December  I7/^,  '51. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  cannot  at  present  go  to  see  you,  but  I  would 
be  grateful  if  you  could  come  and  see  me,  even  were  it  only  for  a 
few  days.  To  speak  truth,  I  have  put  on  but  a  poor  time  of  it 
during  this  month  past  I  kept  hoping  to  be  better,  but  was  at 
last  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  medical  advice.  Sometimes  I  felt 
very  weak  and  low,  and  longed  much  for  society,  but  could  not 
persuade  myself  to  commit  the  selfish  act  of  asking  you  merely  for 
my  own  relief.  The  doctor  speaks  encouragingly,  but  as  yet  I 
get  no  better.  As  the  illness  has  been  coming  on  for  a  long 
time,  it  cannot,  I  suppose,  be  expected  to  disappear  all  at  once. 
I  am  not  confined  to  bed,  but  I  am  weak  ;  have  had  no  appetite 
for  about  three  weeks,  and  my  nights  are  very  bad.  I  am  well 
aware  myself  that  extreme  and  continuous  depression  of  spirits 
has  had  much  to  do  with  the  origin  of  the  illness ;  and  I  know  a 
little  cheerful  society  would  do  me  more  good  than  gallons  of 
medicine.  If  you  can  come,  come  on  Friday.  Write  to-morrow 
and  say  whether  this  be  possible,  and  what  time  you  will  be  at 
Keighley,  that  I  may  send  the  gig.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  stay 
long;  a  few  days  is  all  I  request  Remember  me  to  your 
mother  and  all  at  Brookroyd* — Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

I  have  got  some  cod-liver  oil,  but  am  forbidden  to  take  it  at 
present.     The  doctor  says  it  would  make  me  more  feverish. 
VOL.  II.  Q 


242  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  545 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

December  3U/,  '51. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Papa  was  quite  charmed  with  his  crimson 
velvet  rubbers  ;  he  liked  the  attention,  and,  besides,  it  will  really 
be  very  useful  to  him  ;  I  am  to  thank  you  in  the  most  polite 
manner  possible.  Mr.  Ruddock  came  yesterday  ;  unfortunately  I 
was  not  so  well  as  I  had  been  last  week,  rny  head  continued  to 
ache  all  Monday,  and  yesterday  the  parched  mouth  and  loss  of 
appetite  returned.  Mr.  Ruddock,  however,  repeated  that  there 
was  no  organic  disease,  only  a  highly  sensitive  and  irritable  con- 
dition of  the  liver.  It  was  Mr.  Ruddock  we  saw  on  the  moor,  that 
day  we  were  walking  out ;  he  was  going  to  visit  a  poor  woman.  I 
am  glad  to  hear  good  news  from  Hunsworth.  You  must  give  my 
downright  hearty  sympathy  to  Mr.  Clapham  and  say  I  do  hope 
he  will  be  better  soon.  Remember  me  also  to  your  mother, 
Ann,  and  Mercy. 

I  have  just  got  a  letter  from  Miss  Wooler  enclosing  one  to 
you.  You  will  see  she  was  truly  pleased  with  yours.  In  haste  to 
save  the  post. — Yours  very  faithfully,  dear  Nell, 

C.  BRONTE. 

I  am  better  to-day. 

Letter  546 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

January  iff,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  am  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  writing  to 
you,  for  I  have  long  wished  to  send  you  a  little  note,  and  was 
only  deterred  from  doing  so  by  the  conviction  that  the  period 
preceding  Christmas  must  be  a  very  busy  one  to  you. 

I  have  wished  to  thank  you  for  your  last,  which  gave  me 
very  genuine  pleasure.  You  ascribe  to  Mr.  Taylor  an  excellent 
character ;  such  a  man's  friendship,  at  any  rate,  should  not  be 
disregarded ;  and  if  the  principles  and  disposition  be  what  you 
say,  faults  of  manner  and  even  of  temper  ought  to  weigh 
light  In  the  balance.  I  always  believed  in  his  judgment  and 
good  sense,  but  what  I  doubted  was  his  kindness — he  seemed 
to  me  a  little  too  harsh,  rigid,  and  unsympathising.  Now,  judg- 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  243 

ment,  sense,  principle  are  invaluable  and  quite  indispensable 
points,  but  one  would  be  thankful  for  a  little  feeling,  a  little 
indulgence  in  addition — without  these,  poor  fallible  human 
nature  shrinks  under  the  domination  of  the  sterner  qualities. 
I  answered  Mr.  Taylor's  letter  by  the  mail  of  the  ipth  November, 
sending  it  direct,  for,  on  reflection,  I  did  not  see  why  I  should 
trouble  you  with  it 

Did  your  son  Frank  call  on  Mrs.  Gaskell?  and  how  did  he 
like  her? 

My  health  has  not  been  very  satisfactory  lately,  but  I  think, 
though  I  vary  almost  daily,  I  am  much  better  than  I  was  a  fort- 
night ago.  All  the  winter  the  fact  of  my  never  being  able  to 
stoop  over  a  desk  without  bringing  on  pain  and  oppression  in  the 
chest  has  been  a  great  affliction  to  me,  and  the  want  of  tranquil 
rest  at  night  has  tried  me  much,  but  I  hope  for  the  better  times. 
The  doctors  say  that  there  is  no  organic  mischief. 

Wishing  a  happy  New  Year  to  you,  C  BRONTE. 


Letter  547 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

January  — ,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  sorry  to  say  my  headache  did  turn  out 
to  be  symptomatic  of  relapse,  but  on  the  whole  I  think  I  am 
better  again  now,  and  I  do  not  in  the  least  regret  your  going. 
Really  when  I  am  downright  ill — i.e.  under  the  pressure  of  head- 
ache, sickness,  or  other  prostrating  ailment,  I  would  rather  have 
it  to  myself  and  not  feel  it  augmented  by  the  sense  of  its  being 
burdensome  to  others.  It  is  when  bodily  ailment  is  gone,  and 
the  mind  alone  languishes,  that  cheerful  and  cherished  society 
becomes  a  boon.  You  did  me  great  good  whilst  you  stayed  here, 
and  you  went  away  just  when  your  kindness  would  become 
unavailing,  and  I  and  my  liver  were  best  left  alone.  All  yester- 
day I  was  very  sick ;  to-day  I  feel  somewhat  relieved,  though 
qualms  of  nausea  haunt  me  still.  I  expect  Mr.  R.  and  shall  ask 
him  whether  part  of  this  sickness  is  not  owing  to  his  medicine, 
which  I  suspect  and  hope.  Poor  Ellen  Taylor,  I  fear  hers  will 
not  be  a  long  life.  Should  she  die  in  New  Zealand,  it  will  be 
most  sad  for  Mary.  Mind  that  the  circumstance  of  your 
being  pretty  well  just  now  does  not  make  you  grow  careless, 


244  THE  BRONTES 

111  health  Is  sooner  fallen  into  than  got  out  of.  I  fear  the 
changeful  weather  of  the  last  day  or  two  will  have  tried  Mr. 
Clapham  as  it  tried  me,  but  to-day  it  is  finer.  We  shall  feel  its 
good  effects.  With  kindest  regards  to  all  at  Brookroyd, — I  am, 
dearest  Nell,  yours  faithfully,  C.  B. 

If  I  feel  that  it  will  do  me  good  to  go  to  Brookroyd  for  a  few 
days,  I  will  tell  you,  but  at  present  I  am  best  at  home. 

Letter  548 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

January  itffr,  1852. 

My  DEAR  ELLEN, — I  have  certainly  been  ill  enough  since  I 
wrote  to  you,  but  do  not  be  alarmed  or  uneasy.  I  believe  my 
sufferings  have  been  partly,  perhaps  in  a  great  measure,  owing 
to  the  medicine.  It  was  alterative  and  contained  mercury.  This 
did  not  suit  me.  I  was  brought  to  a  sad  state.  Thank  God,  I 
believe  I  am  better,  but  too  weak  now  to  tell  you  particulars. 
Poor  papa  has  been  in  grievous  anxiety ;  on  the  point  of  sending 
for  Mr.  Teale.  I  had  hard  work  to  restrain  him.  Mr.  Ruddock 
was  sorely  flustered  when  he  found  what  he  had  done,  but  I 
don't  much  blame  him.  Can't  write  more  at  present  Good-bye, 
dear  Nell.— Yours  faithfully,  C.  B. 

Be  quite  tranquil.  Mr.  Ruddock  vows  and  protests  I  shall 
do  perfectly  well  with  time,  so  that  it  will  even  be  all  the  better 
for  me,  but  it  was  rough  work.  I  return  Mary  Gorham's  good 
and  happy  letter. 

Letter  549 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

January  i6tk,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  coolness  with 
which  I  captured  your  letter  on  its  way  to  papa  and  at  once  con- 
jecturing its  tenor  made  its  contents  my  own, 

Be  quiet  Be  tranquil.  It  is,  dear  Nell,  my  decided  intention 
to  come  to  Brookroyd  when  I  can  come,  but  of  this  last  I  must 
positively  judge  for  myself,  and  I  must  take  my  time.  I  am  better 
to-day,  much  better,  but  you  can  have  little  idea  of  the  sort  of 
condition  into  w&fch  mercury  throws  people,  to  ask  me  to  go  from 
home  anywhere  in'  close  or  open  carriage,  and  as  to  talking,  four 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  245 

days  since  I  could  not  well  have  articulated  three  sentences,  my 
mouth  and  tongue  were  ulcerated :  for  a  week  I  took  no  susten- 
ance except  half  a  teacupful  of  liquid,  administered  by  teaspoon- 
fuls  in  the  course  of  the  day ;  yet  I  did  not  need  nursing,  and  I 
kept  out  of  bed.  It  was  enough  to  burden  myself,  it  would  have 
been  misery  to  me  to  have  annoyed  another.  Mr.  Ruddock  says 
he  never  in  his  whole  practice  knew  the  same  effect  produced  by 
the  same  dose  on  man,  woman,  or  child,  and  avows  it  is  owing  to 
an  altogether  peculiar  sensitiveness  of  constitution.  He  expressed 
great  regret  and  annoyance,  but  affirms  it  will  do  me  good  in  the 
end.  If  this  be  so  the  sufferings  are  welcome. 

My  appetite  begins  to  return,  my  mouth  and  tongue  are  healing 
fast :  in  short,  I  believe  I  am  doing  well,  but  it  harasses  me,  dear 
Nell,  to  be  urged  to  go  from  home  when  I  know  I  cannot.  A 
week  or  fortnight  may  make  all  the  difference.  You  know  I 
generally  rally  pretty  quickly. 

With  kind  love  and  a  mixture  of  thanks  and  scolding, — I  am, 
yours  faithfully,  C,  BRONTE. 

Poor  Mr.  Clapham  has  a  lingering  time  of  it ;  remember  me 
to  him  and  to  your  mother,  etc. 

Letter  550 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,/£«2^rX  20//J,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  MlSS  WOOLER, — Your  last  kind  note  would  not  have 
remained  so  long  unanswered  if  I  had  been  in  better  health. 
While  Ellen  was  with  me,  I  seemed  to  revive  wonderfully,  but 
began  to  grow  worse  again  the  day  she  left ;  and  this  falling  off 
proved  symptomatic  of  a  relapse.  My  doctor  called  the  next 
day ;  he  said  the  headache  from  which  I  was  suffering  arose  from 
inertness  in  the  liver. 

Thank  God,  I  now  feel  better ;  and  very  grateful  am  I  for  the 
improvement — grateful  no  less  for  my  dear  father's  sake  than  for 
my  own. 

Most  fully  can  I  sympathise  with  you  in  the  anxiety  you 
express  about  your  friend.  The  thought  of  his  leaving  England 
and  going  out  alone  to  a  strange  country,  with  all  his  natural 
sensitiveness  and  retiring  diffidence,  is  indeed  painful ;  still,  my 
dear  Miss  Wooler,  should  he  actually  go  to  America,  I  can  but 


246  THE  BRONTES 

then  suggest  to  you  the  same  source  of  comfort  and  support 
you  have  suggested  to  me,  and  of  which  indeed  I  know  you 
never  lose  sight — namely,  reliance  on  Providence.  *  God  tempers 
the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb/  and  He  will  doubtless  care  for  a 
good,  though  afflicted  man,  amidst  whatever  difficulties  he  may 
be  thrown.  When  you  write  again,  I  should  be  glad  to  know 
whether  your  anxiety  on  this  subject  is  relieved.  I  was  truly 
glad  to  learn  through  Ellen  that  Ilkley  still  continued  to  agree 
with  your  health.  Earnestly  trusting  that  the  New  Year  may 
prove  to  you  a  happy  and  tranquil  time, — I  am,  my  dear  Miss 
Wooler,  sincerely  and  affectionately  yours,  C.  BRONTE* 

Letter  551 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

January  22^,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  have  continued  to  make  progress,  and  I 
think  very  quickly.  I  do  not  suppose  I  am  looking  much  worse 
than  when  you  were  here,  though  of  course  I  am  very  thin. 

If  all  be  well  I  hope  to  come  to  Brookroyd  next  week.  Mr, 
Ruddock  wished  me  to  put  off  for  another  week,  but  I  want  to 
see  you,  and  my  spirits  sadly  need  some  little  support.  I  do  and 
have  done  as  well  as  I  can,  but  the  hours  have  been  very  dark 
sometimes.  Through  it  all  papa  continues  well,  thank  God  !  I 
intend  coming  by  the  same  train  you  took  and  should  therefore 
reach  you  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  but  I  will  write  again 
to  mention  the  day,  etc.  I  had  a  note  from  Amelia  the  other  day 
which  struck  me  as  not  being  happy  somehow.  I  don't  quite  like 
her  frequent  recurrence  in  a  rather  repining  tone  to  Rosy's 
superior  good  fortune.  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  Mr.  Clapham 
is  making  some  progress  and  that  Mrs.  Clapham  is  better. — 
Believe  me,  dear  Nell,  yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

You  must  not  expect  me  to  stay  one  day  longer  than  a  week. 

Letter  552 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  January  24^,  1852. 

DEAR  NELL, — I  hope  (D.Y.)  to  come  to  you  on  Tuesday,  and 
shall  be  at  Bradford  about  2  o'clock.  If  Mr.  Clapham  can  send 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  247 

the  gig  for  me  I  shall  be  glad,  it  will  save  so  much  trouble.     I 
dare  not  come  if  it  be  wet,  windy,  or  very  cold. 

And  now,  my  dear  physician,  with  reference  to  putting  myself 
into  your  hands,  you  must  take  notice  of  this  :  I  am  to  live  on  the 
very  plainest  fare.  At  present  I  do  not  take  tea,  only  milk  and 
water,  with  a  little  sugar  and  dry  bread ;  this  with  an  occasional 
mutton  chop  is  my  diet,  and  I  like  it  better  than  anything  else. 
Mr.  Ruddock  has  made  me  take  tonics  which  have  stimulated  the 
appetite,  but  I  eat  little  at  a  time.  I  tell  you  all  this  to  prevent  you 
from  giving  yourself  one  bit  of  trouble.  It  would  make  me  miserable 
to  see  you  bother  yourself,  and  ill  besides.  Hoping  Tuesday  will 
be  fine, — I  am,  dear  Nell,  yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  553 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

February  ind^  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  reached  home  safely  a  little  before  five 
yesterday,  all  right  but  for  a  headache  which  I  am  sorry  to  say 
continues  with  me  to-day.  I  found  papa  well ;  he  thanks  you 
for  the  potted  tongue,  and  says  'old  fellows  get  more  kindness 
from  the  ladies  than  young  ones/ 

I  am  anxious  to  know  how  you  got  home,  I  fear  you  were  a 
little  ailing  yourself.  Be  sure  and  write  directly  and  tell  me  how 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clapham,  your  mother,  and  Mercy  are.  Love  to  all. 
— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

I  find  I  have  stolen  a  pencil-case  of  yours  ;  I  will  take  care  of  it 
till  you  come. 

Letter  554 

TO  MRS.  GASKELL 

February  6t&,  1852. 

Certainly  the  past  winter  has  been  to  me  a  strange  time ;  had 
I  the  prospect  before  me  of  living  it  over  again,  my  prayer  must 
necessarily  be  *  Let  this  cup  pass  from  me.'  That  depression  of 
spirits,  whicb  I  thought  was  gone  by  when  I  wrote  last,  came 
back  again  with  a  heavy  recoil ;  internal  congestion  ensued,  and 
then  inflammation.  I  had  severe  pain  in  my  right  side,  frequent 
burning  and  aching  in  my  chest;  sleep  almost  forsook  me,  or 
would  never  come  except  accompanied  by  ghastly  dreams ; 
appetite  vanished,  and  slow  fever  was  my  continual  companion. 


248  THE  BRONTES 

It  was  some  time  before  I  could  bring  myself  to  have  recourse 
to  medical  advice.  I  thought  my  lungs  were  affected,  and  could 
feel  no  confidence  in  the  power  of  medicine.  When  at  last,  how- 
ever, a  doctor  was  consulted,  he  declared  my  lungs  and  chest 
sound,  and  ascribed  all  my  sufferings  to  derangement  of  the  liver, 
on  which  organ  it  seems  the  inflammation  had  fallen.  This 
information  was  a  great  relief  to  my  dear  father,  as  well  as  to 
myself;  but  I  had  subsequently  rather  sharp  medical  discipline 
to  undergo,  and  was  much  reduced.  Though  not  yet  well,  it  is 
with  deep  thankfulness  that  I  can  say  I  am  greatly  better.  My 
sleep,  appetite,  and  strength  seem  all  returning.  C  BRONTE. 

Letter  555 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH 

February  14$?,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — It  has  been  a  great  delight  to  me  to  read  Mr. 
Thackeray's  work;  and  I  so  seldom  now  express  my  sense  of 
kindness  that,  for  once,  you  must  permit  me,  without  rebuke,  to 
thank  you  for  a  pleasure  so  rare  and  special.  Yet  I  am  not  going 
to  praise  either  Mr.  Thackeray  or  his  book.  I  have  read,  enjoyed, 
been  interested,  and,  after  all,  feel  full  as  much  ire  and  sorrow  as 
gratitude  and  admiration.  And  still  one  can  never  lay  down  a 
book  of  his  without  the  last  two  feelings  having  their  part,  be  the 
subject  of  treatment  what  it  may.  In  the  first  half  of  the  book 
what  chiefly  struck  me  was  the  wonderful  manner  in  which  the 
writer  throws  himself  into  the  spirit  and  letters  of  the  times 
whereof  he  treats ;  the  allusions,  the  illustrations,  the  style,  all 
seem  to  me  so  masterly  in  their  exact  keeping,  their  harmonious 
consistency,  their  nice,  natural  truth,  their  pure  exemption  from 
exaggeration.  No  second-rate  imitator  can  write  in  that  way ; 
no  coarse  scene-painter  can  charm  us  with  an  allusion  so  delicate 
and  perfect.  But  what  bitter  satire,  what  relentless  dissection  of 
diseased  subjects !  Well,  and  this,  too,  is  right,  or  would  be  right, 
if  the  savage  surgeon  did  not  seem  so  fiercely  pleased  with  his 
work.  Thackeray  likes  to  dissect  an  ulcer  or  an  aneurism ;  he 
has  pleasure  in  putting  his  cruel  knife  or  probe  into  quivering 
living  flesh.  Thackeray  would  not  like  all  the  world  to  be  good  ; 
no  great  satirist  would  like  society  to  be  perfect 

As  usual,  he  is  unjust  to  women,  quite  unjust.  There  is  hardly 
any  punishment  he  does  not  deserve  for  making  Lady  Castlewood 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  249 

peep  through  a  keyhole,  listen  at  a  door,  and  be  jealous  of  a  boy 
and  a  milkmaid.  Many  other  things  I  noticed  that,  for  my  part, 
grieved  and  exasperated  me  as  I  read;  but  then,  again,  came 
passages  so  true,  so  deeply  thought,  so  tenderly  felt,  one  could 
not  help  forgiving  and  admiring. 

But  I  wish  he  could  be  told  not  to  care  much  for  dwelling  on 
the  political  or  religious  intrigues  of  the  times.  Thackeray,  in  his 
heart,  does  not  value  political  or  religious  intrigues  of  any  age  or 
date.  He  likes  to  show  us  human  nature  at  home,  as  he  himself 
daily  sees  it ;  his  wonderful  observant  faculty  likes  to  be  in  action. 
In  him  this  faculty  is  a  sort  of  captain  and  leader;  and  if  ever 
any  passage  in  his  writings  lacks  interest,  it  is  when  this  master- 
faculty  is  for  a  time  thrust  into  a  subordinate  position.  I  think 
such  is  the  case  in  the  former  half  of  the  present  volume.  Towards 
the  middle  he  throws  off  restraint,  becomes  himself,  and  is  strong 
to  the  close.  Everything  now  depends  on  the  second  and  third 
volumes.  If,  in  pith  and  interest,  they  fall  short  of  the  first,  a 
true  success  cannot  ensue.  If  the  continuation  be  an  improve- 
ment upon  the  commencement,  if  the  stream  gather  force  as  it 
rolls,  Thackeray  will  triumph.  Some  people  have  been  in  the 
habit  of  terming  him  the  second  writer  of  the  day  ;  it  just  depends 
on  himself  whether  or  not  these  critics  shall  be  justified  in  their 
award.  He  need  not  be  the  second.  God  made  him  second  to 
no  man.  If  I  were  he,  I  would  show  myself  as  I  am,  not  as  critics 
report  me;  at  any  rate  I  would  do  my  best.  Mr.  Thackeray  is 
-easy  and  indolent,  and  seldom  cares  to  do  his  best  Thank  you 
once  more;  and  believe  me  yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  556 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  February  i6/^  '52. 

DEAR  NELL, — Many  thanks  for  yours.  You  had  a  sad  recep- 
tion at  Mrs.  W.'s.  I  had  quite  calculated  on  your  getting  the 
relief  and  rest  which  you  needed  so  much.  My  headache  after 
continuing  two  days  left  me,  and  I  have  continued  very  decent 
indeed  ever  since,  much  better  than  I  was  before  leaving  home ; 
though  the  headache,  by  making  me  look  ill,  robbed  me  of  the 
expected  congratulations  on  improved  appearance.  I  do  believe 


250  THE  BRONTES 

if  the  weather  would  but  be  pleasant  and  serene,  I  should  be 
right  enough,  better  perhaps  than  I  was  before  my  illness.  Mr. 
Ruddock,  to  my  dismay,  came  blustering  in  on  Saturday.  I  have 
just  returned  Mr.  Taylor's  MS.  with  a  criticising  letter  which 
Mr.  Smith  may  show  if  he  likes.  I  said  what  I  thought,  and  I 
sometimes  thought  bitter  things. 

I  hope  your  sister  is  better  by  this  time,  but  I  somewhat  fear 
that  the  return  of  stormy  weather,  after  a  few  days  calm,  will  be 
felt  injuriously  both  by  her  and  Mr.  Clapham  ;  it  has  brought  me 
back  something  of  the  pain  in  my  side,  which  I  had  hoped 
gone. 

Give  my  kind  regards  to  your  mother,  Mr.  Clapham,  and  all 
the  rest  Write  again  soon,  and  believe  me,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

How  is  your  thumb  nail  ?  No  slight  mischance  that  of  turning 
it  back. 

Letter  557 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  February  17 th,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  MISS  WOOLER,— Your  last  welcome  letter  found  me 
at  Brookroyd,  whence  I  am  just  returned  after  a  fortnight's  stay; 
the  change  has  proved  beneficial,  not  only  to  my  health  but  more 
especially  to  my  spirits,  which  were  so  prostrated  by  the  debility 
consequent  on  my  illness,  that  solitude  had  become  somewhat  too 
trying.  If  serene  weather  were  only  restored,  I  feel  as  if  I  should 
soon  be  well  again;  but  these  long  storms,  these  incessantly 
howling  winds,  depress  the  nervous  system  much.  I  trust 
Mr.  Taylor  has  been  heard  of  ere  now;  continued  suspense 
respecting  his  safe  arrival  at  Wellington  would  be  most  painful 
during  weather  so  inclement  When  you  write  again,  just  men- 
tion whether  you  have  received  news  of  him. 

If  you  would  send  me  one  of  Mrs.  M.'s  circulars,  I  could  at  any 
rate  make  the  best  use  of  it  in  my  power;  though,  whether  any 
favourable  results  would  ensue,  must,  as  you  will  know,  be  very 
uncertain.  Mrs.  Gaskell's  eldest  daughter  is  at  school  near 
London ;  Lady  Shuttleworth  has  but  one  little  girl,  a  child  of 
seven,  for  whom,  however,  she  has  a  foreign  governess,  and  her 
ladyship  seemed  to  place  so  little  reliance  on  the  competency  of 
Englishwomen  to  train  the  young,  and  to  entertain  such  sweeping 


A  MONTH  IN  LONDON  251 

suspicions  of  English  schools  in  general,  that  I  fear  her  patronage 
could  hardly  be  looked  for. 

As  to  the  French  President,  it  seems  to  me  hard  to  say  what  a 
man  with  so  little  scruple  and  so  much  ambition  will  not  attempt. 
I  wish,  however,  the  English  Press  would  not  prate  so  much 
about  invasion ;  if  silence  were  possible  in  a  free  country,  would  it 
not  be  far  better  to  prepare  silently  for  what  may  come,  to  place 
the  national  defences  in  an  effective  state,  and  refrain  from  breath- 
ing a  word  of  apprehension  ?  Doubtless  such  is  the  thought  of 
practical  men  like  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  I  can  well  conceive 
his  secret  impatience  at  the  mischievous  gabbling  of  the  news- 
papers. Wonderful  is  the  French  nature  ! 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  558 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

February  2tfk,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  return  Mary  Gorham's  with  thanks.  The 
time  of  your  visit  does  not  seem  very  distant ;  three  months  will 
soon  pass.  I  am  sorry,  dear  Nell,  you  are  treating  the  subject  of 
my  going  to  Sussex  as  if  it  were  at  all  a  probable  thing.  Let  me 
say  distinctly,  it  is  not  at  all  likely ;  few  things  less  so,  as  far  as 
I  can  see. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  your  sister,  Mrs.  Clapham,  is  better ;  perhaps 
this  illness  may  improve  her  general  health.  You  do  not  mention 
Mr.  Clapham.  I  hope  he  still  progresses.  As  to  papa,  his  health 
has  been  really  wonderful  this  winter ;  good  sleep,  good  spirits, 
an  excellent  steady  appetite — all  seem  to  mark  vigour;  may  it 
but  continue  t  As  for  me,  I  yet  do  well ;  could  I  but  get  rid 
of  indigestion  and  headache  I  should  manage,  but  these  pains 
pursue  me. 

The  Indian  mail  brought  me  nothing. — I  am,  dear  Nell,  yours 
faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  559 

TO  JAMES  TAYLOR 

HAWORTH  [undated]. 

I  spent  a  few  weeks  in  town  last  summer,  as  you  have  heard, 
and  was  much  interested  by  many  things  I  heard  and  saw  there. 


252  THE  BRONTES 

What  now  chiefly  dwells  in  my  memory  are  Mr.  Thackeray's 
lectures,  Mademoiselle  Rachel's  acting,  D'Aubigne's,  Melvill's, 
and  Maurice's  preaching,  and  the  Crystal  Palace. 

Mr.  Thackeray's  lectures  you  will  have  seen  mentioned  and 
commented  on  in  the  papers  ;  they  were  very  interesting.  I  could 
not  always  coincide  with  the  sentiments  expressed,  or  the  opinions 
broached;  but  I  admired  the  gentlemanlike  ease,  the  quiet 
humour,  the  taste,  the  talent,  the  simplicity,  and  the  originality 
of  the  lecturer. 

Rachel's  acting  transfixed  me  with  wonder,  enchained  me  with 
interest,  and  thrilled  me  with  horror.  The  tremendous  force  with 
which  she  expresses  the  very  worst  passions  in  their  strongest 
essence  forms  an  exhibition  as  exciting  as  the  bull-fights  of  Spain 
and  the  gladiatorial  combats  of  old  Rome,  and  (it  seemed  to  me) 
not  one  whit  more  moral  than  these  poisoned  stimulants  to  popular 
ferocity.  It  is  scarcely  human  nature  that  she  shows  you ;  it  is 
something  wilder  and  worse;  the  feelings  and  fury  of  a  fiend. 
The  great  gift  of  genius  she  undoubtedly  has ;  but,  I  fear,  she 
rather  abuses  it  than  turns  it  to  good  account. 

With  all  the  three  preachers  I  was  greatly  pleased.  Melvill 
seemed  to  me  the  most  eloquent,  Maurice  the  most  in  earnest; 
had  I  the  choice,  it  is  Maurice  whose  ministry  I  should  frequent. 

On  the  Crystal  Palace  I  need  not  comment.  You  must  already 
have  heard  too  much  of  it.  It  struck  me  at  the  first  with  only  a 
vague  sort  of  wonder  and  admiration  ;  but  having  one  day  the 
privilege  of  going  over  it  in  company  with  an  eminent  country- 
man of  yours,  Sir  David  Brewster,  and  hearing,  in  his  friendly 
Scotch  accent,  his  lucid  explanation  of  many  things  that  have 
been  to  me  before  a  sealed  book,  I  began  a  little  better  to  com-  „ 
prehend  it,  or  at  least  a  small  part  of  it ;  whether  its  final  results 
will  equal  expectation  I  know  not  C.  BRONTE. 


LONELY  HOURS  253 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

LONELY  HOURS 

FROM  March  to  October  1852 — the  months  in  which 
Villette  was  being  written,  with  long  intervals  of  rest  of 
a  kind — were  among  the  saddest  of  Charlotte  Bronte's 
life.  She  seemed  to  suffer  from  a  reaction  from  all  the 
visiting  of  the  previous  year.  She  saw  few  people,  and 
only  varied  the  quiet,  monotonous  life  of  Haworth  by  a 
lonely  journey  to  her  sister  Anne's  grave  at  Scarborough. 
The  letters  written  during  these  months  call  for  but  little 
comment.  One  is  struck,  however,  by  the  absence  of 
correspondence  with  her  literary  friends.  The  world 
takes  little  count  to-day  of  the  writer  who  drops  out  of 
its  ken  for  a  year  or  two,  and  it  must  have  been  even 
so  half  a  century  back.  Three  years  separated  the 
publication  of  Shirley  from  the  publication  of  Villette, 
and  although  the  success  of  Jane  Eyre  and  Shirley 
had  been  great,  it  is  clear  that  the  writer  of  these  books 
could  no  longer  be  of  importance  to  the  London  lion- 
hunters,  even  had  she  desired  it.  As  it  was,  she  led  a  life 
of  painful  isolation  that  must  seem  extraordinary  to  the 
average  successful  novelist  of  our  time.  One  marked 
fact  that  these  letters  reveal  is  that  Mr,  James  Taylor 
had  caught  a  firmer  hold  on  her  mind  and  heart  than 
she  had  been  conscious  of  hitherto,  and  that,  had  the 
'little  man/  as  she  so  frequently  termed  him,  come  hastily 
over  from  Bombay,  he  might  most  certainly  have  won 
for  his  wife  one  of  the  most  distinguished  authors  of  her 
time. 


254  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  560 

TO  W.  S.   WILLIAMS 

HAWORTH,  March  — ,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,— It  is  not  at  all  likely  that  my  book  will 
be  ready  at  the  time  you  mention.  If  my  health  is  spared  I 
shall  get  on  with  it  as  fast  as  is  consistent  with  its  being 
done,  if  not  well>  yet  as  well  as  I  can  do  it — not  one  whit 
faster.  When  the  mood  leaves  me  (it  has  left  me  now,  with- 
out vouchsafing  so  much  as  a  word  of  a  message  when  it 
will  return)  I  put  by  the  MS.  and  wait  till  it  comes  back 
again.  God  knows  I  sometimes  have  to  wait  long — very 
long  it  seems  to  me.  Meantime,  if  I  might  make  a  request 
to  you,  it  would  be  this :  Please  to  say  nothing  about  my  book 
till  it  is  written  and  in  your  hands.  You  may  not  like  it.  I  am 
not  myself  elated  with  it  as  far  as  it  has  gone,  and  authors,  you 
need  not  be  told,  are  always  tenderly  indulgent,  even  blindly 
partial,  to  their  own.  Even  if  it  should  turn  out  reasonably  well, 
still  I  regard  it  as  ruin  to  the  prosperity  of  an  ephemeral  book, 
like  a  novel,  to  be  much  talked  of  beforehand,  as  if  it  were  some- 
thing great  People  are  apt  to  conceive,  or  at  least  to  profess, 
exaggerated  expectation,  such  as  no  performance  can  realise; 
then  ensue  disappointment  and  the  due  revenge,  detraction  and 
failure.  If  when  I  write  I  were  to  think  of  the  critics  who,  I 
know,  are  waiting  for  Currer  Bell,  ready  *  to  break  all  his  bones 
or  ever  he  comes  to  the  bottom  of  the  den,'  my  hand  would  fall 
paralysed  on  my  desk.  However,  I  can  but  do  my  best,  and  then 
muffle  my  head  in  the  mantle  of  Patience,  and  sit  down  at  her 
feet  and  wait.  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  561 

TO  ELLEN  NXJSSEY 

HAWORTH,  March  tfh,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— The  news  of  Ellen  Taylor's  death *  came  to  me 
last  week  in  a  letter  from  Mary;  a  long  letter,  which  wrung  my 
heart  so,  in  its  simple,  strong,  truthful  emotion,  I  have  only  ventured 
to  read  it  once.  It  ripped  up  half-seared  wounds  with  terrible 
force.  The  death-bed  was  just  the  same,  breath  failing,  etc. 

3  Ellen  Taylor,  Mary's  cousin,  who  joined  her  in  New  Zealand,  and  who  comes  so 
frequently  into  Mary  Taylor's  letters  to  Ellen  Nussey  and  Charlotte  Bronte. 


LONELY  HOURS  255 

She  fears  she  shall  now,  in  her  dreary  solitude,  become  a  *  stern, 
harsh,  selfish  woman.'  This  fear  struck  home  ;  again  and  again  I 
have  felt  it  for  myself,  and  what  is  my  position  to  M.'s  ?  I  should 
break  out  in  energetic  wishes  that  she  would  return  to  England,  if 
reason  would  permit  me  to  believe  that  prosperity  and  happiness 
would  there  await  her.  May  God  help  her,  as  God  only  can  help ! 

I  like  to  hear  of  your  being  cheerful,  but  I  fear  you  impose  on 
yourself  too  much  fatigue  with  all  this  entertainment  of  visitors. 

Poor  Emma !  Will  she  be  at  all  provided  for  in  case  of  her 

father's  death?  She  will  hardly  like  to  turn  governess.  How 
are  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clapham,  you  have  not  mentioned  them  lately, 
and  how  is  your  mother  ?  I  continue  better,  and  papa  is  getting 
through  the  spring  admirably. 

I  am  sure  Miss  Wooler  would  enjoy  her  visit  to  you,  as  much 
as  you  her  company.  Dear  Nell,  I  thank  you  sincerely  for  your 
discreet  and  friendly  silence  on  the  point  alluded  to.  I  had 
feared  it  would  be  discussed  between  you  two,  and  had  an  in- 
expressible shrinking  at  the  thought ;  now,  less  than  ever  does 
it  seem  a  matter  open  to  discussion.  I  hear  nothing,  and  you 
must  quite  understand  that  if  I  feel  any  uneasiness  it  is  not  that 
of  confirmed  and  fixed  regard,  but  that  anxiety  which  is  insepar- 
able from  a  state  of  absolute  uncertainty  about  a  somewhat 
momentous  matter.  I  do  not  know,  I  am  not  sure  myself,  that 
any  other  termination  would  be  better  than  lasting  estrangement 
and  unbroken  silence.  Yet  a  good  deal  of  pain  has  been  and 
must  be  gone  through  in  that  case.  However,  to  each  his  burden, 

I  have  not  yet  read  the  papers;  D.V.,  I  will  send  them  to- 
morrow.— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Understand  that  in  whatever  I  have  said  above,  it  was  not  for 
pity  or  sympathy.  I  hardly  pity  myself.  Only  I  wish  that  in 
all  matters  in  this  world  there  was  fair  and  open  dealing,  and  no 
underhand  work. 

Letter  562 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

March  52$,  '52. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  suppose  as  I  have  heard  nothing  since  your 
last,  that  the  baby  at  Hunsworth  is  now  better,  I  do  not  return 
Amelia's  letters,  conceiving  that  they  are  hardly  such  as  you  will 
make  a  point  of  retaining.  Seldom  have  I  seen  any  from  her 


256  THE  BRONTES 

that  impressed  me  less  favourably ;  the  loud,  weak  outcry  is  toa 
much  ;  I  pity  her,  but  less  than  I  should  do  if  I  did  not  feel  that 
she  is  straining  her  emotions  to  the  utmost.  All  that  part  about 
Hopkinson's  wife  and  her  child  is  sad.  The  apostrophe  to  you, 
f  You  never  were  a  mother  (!!!),  etc./  is  really  theatrical,  and 
entirely  superfluous.  It  is  well  that  Amelia  has  a  better  side  to 
her  character  than  all  this.  If  such  be  the  sort  of  diet  on  which 
she  feeds  Rosy,  I  do  not  wonder  at  the  latter's  occasional  silence. 
This  kind  of  correspondence  would  do  me  up. 

I  hope  you  are  all  better  at  Brookroyd ;  the  cold  weather  dis- 
agreed with  me  very  much  at  first.  I  think,  however,  I  am 
getting  used  to  it,  though  I  still  have  frequent  headaches  and 
just  now  a  swelled  face  and  tic  in  the  cheek-bone.  Mr.  Ruddock 
has  contradicted  himself  about  Quinine,  allowed  that  it  will  not 
do  for  me,  and  prescribed  another  tonic  which  I  have  taken, 
though  without  any  benefit  that  I  can  perceive. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Miss  Martineau  a  few  days  since.  She  has 
actually  suppressed  her  intended  work,  calls  it  now  'a  foolish 
prank/  but  it  is  obvious  she  is  much  chagrined. 1 

I  suppose  you  have  received  your  Sussex  parcel  ere  this,  and 
I  trust  its  contents  are  satisfactory.  This  dry,  fine  frosty  weather 
ought  to  suit  you,  dear  Nell.  Write  soon  and  tell  me  how  you 
are.  Papa  is  well. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  563 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

March  *jtk,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— I  hope  both  your  mother's  cold  and  yours  are 
quite  well  ere  this.  Papa  has  got  something  of  his  spring  attack 
of  bronchitis,  but  so  far  it  is  in  greatly  ameliorated  form,  very 
different  to  what  it  has  been  for  three  years  past.  I  do  trust  it 
may  pass  off  thus  mildly.  I  continue  better. 

Dear  Nell,  I  told  you  from  the  beginning  that  my  going  to 
Sussex  was  a  most  improbable  event ;  I  tell  you  now  that  unless 
want  of  health  should  absolutely  compel  me  to  give  up  work 
and  leave  home  (which  I  trust  and  hope  will  not  be  the  case)  I 
certainly  shall  not  think  of  going.  It  is  better  to  be  decided,  and 

1  This  was  a  cancelled  novel  which  was  to  be  entitled  Oliver  Weld.  The  author  had 
formerly  called  it  Edward  Reward.  See  letters  to  George  Smith,  NOF  7  1811  and 
Jan.  i,  1852,  in  f  Haworth  edition'  of  the  Life.  * 


LONELY  HOURS  257 

decided  I  must  be.  You  can  never  want  me  less  than  when  in 
Sussex  surrounded  by  amusement  and  friends.  I  do  not  know 
that  I  shall  go  to  Scarbro',  but  it  might  be  possible  to  spare  a 
fortnight  to  go  there  (for  the  sake  of  a  sad  duty  rather  than 
pleasure),  when  I  could  not  give  a  month  to  a  longer  excursion. 
You  mention  'meanness'  in  connection  with  my  going  to 
Scarbro', — did  you  think  I  meant  to  sponge  upon  Miss  Wooler? 
No,  I  intend  to  take  lodgings  and  pay  for  them  honestly  !  I  have 
not  a  word  of  news  to  tell  you.  Many  mails  have  come  from 
India  since  I  was  at  Brookroyd ;  expectation  would  at  times  be 
on  the  alert,  but  disappointment  knocked  her  down.  I  have  not 
heard  a  syllable,  and  cannot  think  of  making  inquiries  at  Corn- 
hilL  Well,  long  suspense  in  any  matter  usually  proves  somewhat 
cankering,  but  God  orders  all  things  for  us,  and  to  His  Will  we 
must  submit.  Be  sure  to  keep  a  calm  mind,  expect  nothing. — 
Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  564 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

March  lofti,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — With  regard  to  the  pains  in  chest  and  shoulders, 
if  they  still  continue  there  should  be  no  delay  in  asking  the  opinion 
of  a  medical  man,  Mr,  Rayner  for  instance.  Pains  of  this  sort  often 
indicate  congestion  of  some  organ ;  in  my  case  it  was  the  liver,  and  I 
had  the  pains  at  intervals  for  three  years  before  I  knew  their  origin. 
Have  you  tried  a  moderate  dose  of  opening  medicine?  Two 
camomile  pills  might  be  of  use,  but  you  had  better  speak  to  a  doctor. 

The  hand-squeezing  adventure  made  me  smile.  Who  was  the 

gentleman?  Could  it  be  Mr. ?  Are  you  sure  he  was ? 

Was  not  the  squeeze  probably  too  slight  to  be  felt  ?  Have  you  not 
tormented  yourself  about  what  was  perceptible  to  yourself  only? 

Mary  Gorham's  letter  is  very  interesting ;  it  shows  a  mind  one 
cannot  but  truly  admire.  Compare  its  serene,  trusting  strength 
with  poor  Mrs.  Joe  Taylor's  vacillating  dependence.  When  the 
latter  was  in  her  first  burst  of  happiness,  I  never  remember  the 
feeling  finding  vent  in  expressions  of  gratitude  to  God.  There 
was  always  a  continued  claim  upon  your  sympathy  in  the  mistrust 
and  doubt  she  felt  of  her  own  bliss.  Mary  believes,  has  faith*  is 
grateful  and  at  peace :  yet  while  happy  in  herself,  how  thoughtful 
she  is  for  others! 

VOL.  II.  R 


258  THE  BRONTES 

I  enclose  a  letter  from  New  Zealand  which  I  ought  to  have  sen 
before,  but  forgot  it  until  my  last  note  was  sealed.  It  contain 
nothing  new,  being  indeed  of  a  date  prior  to  the  one  you  hav< 
already  seen,  but  somehow  it  tends  to  confirm  one's  fears  abou 
Ellen  Taylor.  With  love  to  all  at  Brookroyd, — Believe  me,  dea, 
Nell,  yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  565 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  March  iith,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  MlSS  WOOLER. — Your  kind  note  holds  out  a  strong 
temptation,  but  one  that  must  be  resisted.  From  home  I  must 
not  go  unless  health  or  some  cause  equally  imperative  render  a 
change  necessary.  For  nearly  four  months  now  (i.e.  since  I  became 
ill)  I  have  not  put  pen  to  paper.  My  work  has  been  lying  un- 
touched, and  my  faculties  have  been  rusting  for  want  of  exercise. 
Further  relaxation  is  out  of  the  question,  and  I  will  not  permit 
myself  to  think  of  it.  My  publisher  groans  over  my  long  delays  ; 
I  am  sometimes  provoked  to  check  the  expression  of  his  impatience 
with  short  and  crusty  answers. 

Yet  the  pleasure  I  now  deny  myself  I  would  fain  regard  as 
only  deferred  I  heard  something  about  your  proposing  to  visit 
Scarbro'  in  the  course  of  the  summer,  and  could  I  by  the  close  of 
July  or  August  bring  my  task  to  a  certain  point,  how  glad  should 
I  be  to  join  you  there  for  awhile ! 

Ellen  will  probably  go  to  the  south  about  May  to  make  a  stay 
of  two  or  three  months ;  she  has  formed  a  plan  for  my  accompany- 
ing her  and  taking  lodgings  on  the  Sussex  coast;  but  the  scheme 
seems  to  me  impracticable  for  many  reasons,  and,  moreover,  my 
medical  man  doubts  the  advisability  of  my  going  southward  in 
summer,  he  says  it  might  prove  very  enervating,  whereas  Scarbro' 
or  Burlington  would  brace  and  strengthen.  However,  I  dare  not 
lay  plans  at  this  distance  of  time.  For  me  so  much  must  depend, 
first  on  papa's  health  (which  throughout  the  winter  has  been,  I 
am  thankful  to  say,  really  excellent),  and  second,  on  the  progress 
of  work,  a  matter  not  wholly  contingent  on  wish  or  will,  but  lying 
in  a  great  measure  beyond  the  reach  of  effort  and  out  of  the  pale 
of  calculation. 

I  am  truly  glad  to  learn  that  satisfactory  tidings  have  been 
received^regarding  Mr.  Taylor ;  he  may  prosper  better  than  could 
be  anticipated,  foreign  scenes  and  faces  may  prove  a  salutary 


LONELY  HOURS  259 

stimulus ;  ere  now  I  have  observed  that  persons  of  diffident,  self- 
doubting  character  are  more  at  ease  amongst  total  strangers  than 
with  those  to  whom  they  are  partially  known. 

I  will  not  write  more  at  present,  as  I  wish  to  save  this  post. 
All  in  the  house  would  join  in  kind  remembrances  to  you  if  they 
knew  I  was  writing.  Tabby  and  Martha  both  frequently  inquire 
after  Miss  Wooler,  and  desire  their  respects  when  an  opportunity 
offers  of  presenting  the  same. — Believe  me,  yours  always  affection- 
ately and  respectfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  566 

TO   ELLEN  NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  March  23^  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Let  me  fulfil  in  this  note  a  duty  I  forgot  in  the 
last,  to  thank  you  for  the  pretty  doyley,  and  to  enclose  payment 
in  postage  stamps.  I  gave  your  mother  The  Women  of  Chris- 
tianity*  I  have  not  been  to  visit  Miss  Wooler  ;  she  asked  me  very 
kindly  and  I  should  have  liked  it,  but  felt  it  incumbent  on  me  to 
refuse,  as  I  often  feel  it  incumbent  on  me  to  refuse  you. 

My  health  has  been  decidedly  better  lately,  less  headache,  pain 
in  the  side  sometimes,  not  often.  Papa  now  begins  to  say  I  am 
looking  better ;  he,  thank  God,  is  well  and  looks  well. 

H.  C.'s  account  of  J.  N.  is  beautiful ;  if  I  were  a  man,  that  is 
the  sort  of  family  I  would  not  marry  into,  the  sort  of  father-in-law 
I  would  not  have.  I  don't  envy  Mr.  R.  You  may  well  felicitate 
yourself  that  such  do  not  find  you  kindred  in  the  spirit,  and  that 
they  never  will 

Did  you  go  to  Rouse  Mill?  How  did  you  enjoy  yourself  and 
whom  did  you  see? 

You  say,  dear  Nell,  that  you  often  wish  I  would  chat  on  paper, 
as  you  do.  How  can  I?  where  are  my  materials?  Is  my  life 
fertile  in  subjects  of  chat  ?  What  callers  do  I  see  ?  What  visits 
-do  I  pay  ?  No,  you  must  chat,  and  I  must  listen,  and  say  *  Yes/ 
and  c  No,'  and  *  Thank  you  ! 3  for  five  minutes1  recreation. 

I  don't  know  what  that  dear  Mrs.  Joe  Taylor  will  make  of  her 
little  one  in  the  end  :  between  port  wine  and  calomel,  and  Mr.  B. 
and  Mr.  A.  I  should  not  like  to  be  in  its  socks.  Yet  I  think  it 
-will  live ;  that  it  will  ever  be  a  good  life  I  do  not  think. 

I  am  amused  at  the  interest  you  take  in  politics.  Don't  expect 
to  rouse  me ;  to  me,  all  Ministries  and  all  Oppositions  seem  to  be 
pretty  much  alike.  Disraeli  was  factious  as  leader  of  the  Oppo- 


260  THE  BRONTES 

sition;  Lord  John  Russell  is  going  to  be  factious,  now  that  he  has 
stepped  into  Disraeli's  shoes.  Confound  them  all.  Lord  Derby's 
*  Christian  tone  and  spirit/  is  worth  three  half-pence  farthing. — 
Yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  567 

TO  W.   S.  WILLIAMS 

March  25^,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Mr.  Smith  intimated  a  short  time  since  that 
he  had  some  thoughts  of  publishing  a  reprint  of  Shirley.  Having 
revised  the  work,  I  now  enclose  the  errata.  I  have  likewise  sent 
off  to-day,  per  rail,  a  return  box  of  Cornhill  books. 

I  have  lately  read,  with  great  pleasure,  The  Two  Families^ 
This  work,  it  seems,  should  have  reached  me  in  January ;  but,, 
owing  to  a  mistake,  it  was  detained  at  the  Dead  Letter  Office, 
and  lay  there  nearly  two  months.  I  liked  the  commencement  very 
much ;  the  close  seemed  to  me  scarcely  equal  to  Rose  Douglas.  I 
thought  the  authoress  committed  a  mistake  in  shifting  the  main 
interest  from  the  two  personages  on  whom  it  first  rests — viz.  Ben 
Wilson  and  Mary — to  other  characters  of  quite  inferior  conception. 
Had  she  made  Ben  and  Mary  her  hero  and  heroine,  and  continued 
the  development  of  their  fortunes  and  characters  in  the  same 
truthful  natural  vein  in  which  she  commences  it,  an  excellent,, 
even  an  original  book  might  have  been  the  result.  As  for  Lilias 
and  Ronald,  they  are  mere  romantic  figments,  with  nothing  of  the 
genuine  Scottish  peasant  about  them ;  they  do  not  even  speak  the 
Caledonian  dialect ;  they  palaver  like  a  fine  lady  and  gentleman. 

I  ought  long  since  to  have  acknowledged  the  gratification  with 
which  I  read  Miss  Kavanagh's  Women  of  Christianity.  Her 
charity  and  (on  the  whole)  her  impartiality  are  very  beautiful 
She  touches,  indeed,  with  too  gentle  a  hand  the  theme  of  Eliza- 
beth of  Hungary;  and,  in  her  own  mind,  she  evidently  miscon- 
strues the  fact  of  Protestant  charities  seeming  to  be  fewer  than 
Catholic.  She  forgets,  or  does  not  know,  that  Protestantism  is  a 
quieter  creed  than  Romanism  ;  as  it  does  not  clothe  its  priesthood 
in  scarlet,  so  neither  does  it  set  up  its  good  women  for  saints, 
canonise  their  names,  and  proclaim  their  good  works.  In  the 
records  of  man  their  almsgiving  will  not,  perhaps,  be  found 
registered,  but  heaven  has  its  account  as  well  as  earth. 

With  kind  regards  to  yourself  and  family,  who,  I  trust,  have 

1  TAt  Ttoo  Families  and  Rose  Dtuglas  were  both  published  in  1852.  Their  author 
was  Mw.  S.  R.  WHtehead. 


LONELY  HOURS  261 

all  safely  weathered  the  rough  winter  lately  past,  as  well  as  the 
east  winds,  which  are  still  nipping  our  spring  in  Yorkshire,  I  am, 
my  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely,  C  BRONTE. 

Letter  568 

TO   W.   S.   WILLIAMS 

April  3rd,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — The   box   arrived   quite   safely,   and   I   very 
much  thank  you  for  the  contents,  which  are  most  kindly  selected. 

As  you  wished  me  to  say  what  I  thought  of  The  School  for 
Fathers}-  I  hastened  to  read  it.  The  book  seems  to  me  clever, 
interesting,  very  amusing,  and  likely  to  please  generally.  There 
is  a  merit  in  the  choice  of  ground  which  is  not  yet  too  hackneyed ; 
the  comparative  freshness  of  subject,  character,  and  epoch  gives 
the  tale  a  certain  attractiveness.  There  is  also,  I  think,  a  graphic 
rendering  of  situations,  and  a  lively  talent  for  describing  whatever 
is  visible  and  tangible — what  the  eye  meets  on  the  surface  of 
things.  The  humour  appears  to  me  such  as  would  answer  well 
on  the  stage;  most  of  the  scenes  seem  to  demand  dramatic 
accessories  to  give  them  their  full  effect.  But  I  think  one  cannot 
with  justice  bestow  higher  praise  than  this.  To  speak  candidly, 
I  felt,  in  reading  the  tale,  a  wondrous  hollowness  in  the  moral 
and  sentiment ;  a  strange  dilettante  shallowness  in  the  purpose 
and  feeling.  After  all,  *  Jack y  is  not  much  better  than  a  *  Tony 
Lumpkin,'  and  there  is  no  very  great  breadth  of  choice  between 
the  clown  he  is  and  the  fop  his  father  would  have  made  him. 
The  grossly  material  life  of  the  old  English  fox-hunter  and  the 
frivolous  existence  of  the  fine  gentleman  present  extremes,  each 
in  its  way  so  repugnant  that  one  feels  half  inclined  to  smile  when 
called  upon  to  sentimentalise  over  the  lot  of  a  youth  forced  to 
pass  from  one  to  the  other ;  torn  from  the  stables  to  be  ushered, 
perhaps,  into  the  ball-room.  Jack  dies  mournfully  indeed,  and 
you  are  sorry  for  the  poor  fellow's  untimely  end  ;  but  you  cannot 
forget  that  if  he  had  not  been  thrust  into  the  way  of  Colonel 
Penruddock's  weapon  he  might  possibly  have  broken  his  neck  in 
a  fox-hunt  The  character  of  Sir  Thomas  Warren  is  excellent; 
consistent  throughout.  That  of  Mr.  Addison  not  bad,  but  sketchy, 
a  mere  outline — wanting  colour  and  finish.  The  man's  portrait 

1  The  School  for  Fathers  was  written  by  Josepha  GulstoB  under  the  pseudonym  of 
'Talbot  G wynne/  She  also  wrote  Young  Singleton^  Tke  School  for  Dreamers -,  Silas 
Barnstarket  and  Nanettt  and  her  Lovers. 


262  THE  BRONTES 

is  there,  and  his  costume,  and  fragmentary  anecdotes  of  his  life; 
but  where  is  the  man's  nature — soul  and  self?  I  say  nothing 
about  the  female  characters — not  one  word ;  only  that  Lydia 
seems  to  me  like  a  pretty  little  actress,  prettily  dressed,  gracefully 
appearing  and  disappearing,  and  reappearing  in  a  genteel  comedy, 
assuming  the  proper  sentiments  of  her  part  with  all  due  tact  and 
na'fvete  and — that  is  all 

Your  description  of  the  model  man  of  business  is  true  enough, 
I  doubt  not ;  but  we  will  not  fear  that  society  will  ever  be  brought 
quite  to  this  standard ;  human  nature  (bad  as  it  is)  has,  after  all,, 
elements  that  forbid  it.  But  the  very  tendency  to  such  a  con- 
summation— the  marked  tendency,  I  fear,  of  the  day — produces,, 
no  doubt,  cruel  suffering.  Yet,  when  the  evil  of  competition 
passes  a  certain  limit,  must  it  not  in  time  work  its  own  cure  ?  I 
suppose  it  will,  but  then  through  some  convulsed  crisis,  shatter- 
ing all  around  it  like  an  earthquake.  Meantime  for  how  many  is 
life  made  a  struggle,  enjoyment  and  rest  curtailed  ;  labour  terribly 
enhanced  beyond  almost  what  nature  can  bear!  I  often  think 
that  this  world  would  be  the  most  terrible  of  enigmas,  were  it  not 
for  the  firm  belief  that  there  is  a  world  to  come,  where  conscien- 
tious effort  and  patient  pain  will  meet  their  reward. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  sir,  sincerely  yours,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  569 

TO  L^ETITIA  WHEELWRIGHT 

HAWORTH,  April  izM,  1852. 

DEAR  LETITIA, — Your  last  letter  gave  me  much  concern.  I 
had  hoped  you  were  long  ere  this  restored  to  your  usual  health, 
and  it  both  pained  and  surprised  me  to  hear  that  you  still  suffer 
so  much  from  debility.  I  cannot  help  thinking  your  constitution 
is  naturally  sound  and  healthy.  Can  it  be  the  air  of  London  which 
disagrees  with  you  ?  For  myself,  I  struggled  through  the  winter 
and  the  early  part  of  spring  often  with  great  difficulty.  My  friend 1 
stayed  with  me  a  few  days  in  the  early  part  of  January — she  could 
not  be  spared  longer.  I  was  better  during  her  visit,  but  had  a 
relapse  soon  after  she  left  me,  which  reduced  my  strength  very 
much.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  solitude  of  my  position  fear- 
fully aggravated  its  other  evils.  Some  long,  stormy  days  and 
nights  there  were  when  I  felt  such  a  craving  for  support  and  com- 

1  Miss  Ellen  Nnssey,  who  never  met  Miss  Wheelwright. 


LONELY  HOURS  263 

panionship  as  I  cannot  express.  Sleepless,  I  lay  awake  night  after 
night ;  weak  and  unable  to  occupy  myself,  I  sat  in  my  chair  day 
after  day,  the  saddest  memories  my  only  company.  It  was  a 
time  I  shall  never  forget,  but  God  sent  it  and  it  must  have  been 
for  the  best 

I  am  better  now,  and  very  grateful  do  I  feel  for  the  restoration 
of  tolerable  health;  but,  as  if  there  was  always  to  be  some  afflic- 
tion, papa,  who  enjoyed  wonderful  health  during  the  whole  winter, 
is  ailing  with  his  spring  attack  of  bronchitis.  I  earnestly  trust  it 
may  pass  over  in  the  comparatively  ameliorated  form  in  which  it 
has  hitherto  shown  itself. 

Let  me  not  forget  to  answer  your  question  about  the  cataract. 
Tell  your  papa  my  father  was  seventy  at  the  time  he  underwent 
an  operation  ;  he  was  most  reluctant  to  try  the  experiment — could 
not  believe  that  at  his  age  and  with  his  want  of  robust  strength 
it  would  succeed.  I  was  obliged  to  be  very  decided  in  the  matter 
and  to  act  entirely  on  my  own  responsibility.  Nearly  six  years 
have  now  elapsed  since  the  cataract  was  extracted  (it  was  not 
merely  depressed).  He  has  never  once,  during  that  time,  regretted 
the  step,  and  a  day  seldom  passes  that  he  does  not  express  grati- 
tude and  pleasure  at  the  restoration  of  that  inestimable  privilege 
of  vision  whose  loss  he  once  knew. 

I  hope  the  next  tidings  you  hear  of  your  brother  Charles  will 
be  satisfactory  for  his  parents'  and  sisters'  sake  as  well  as  his  own. 
Your  poor  mamma  has  had  many  successive  trials,  and  her  un- 
complaining resignation  seems  to  offer  us  all  an  example  worthy 
to  be  followed.  Remember  me  kindly  to  her,  to  your  papa,  and 
all  your  circle,  and — Believe  me,  with  best  wishes  to  yourself, 
yours  sincerely  C.  BRONTE, 

'  I  had  given  Miss  Bronte,  in  one  of  .my  letters/  says 
Mrs.  Gaskell,  'an  outline  of  the  story  on  which  I  was  then 
engaged/  This  would  be  Ruth,  published  in  1853. 

Letter  570 

TO   MRS.   GASKELL 

The  sketch  you  give  of  your  work  (respecting  which  I  am,  of 
course,  dumb)  seems  to  me  very  noble;  and  Its  purpose  may  be 
as  useful  in  practical  result  as  it  is  high  and  just  in  theoretical 
tendency.  Such  a  book  may  restore  hope  and  energy  to  manv 


264  THE  BRONTES 

who  thought  they  had  forfeited  their  right  to  both,  and  open  a 
clear  course  for  honourable  effort  to  some  who  deemed  that  they 
and  all  honour  had  parted  company  in  this  world. 

Yet — hear  my  protest ! 

Why  should  she  die?  Why  are  we  to  shut  up  the  book 
weeping  ? 

My  heart  fails  me  already  at  the  thought  of  the  pang  it  will 
have  to  undergo.  And  yet  you  must  follow  the  impulse  of  your 
own  inspiration.  If  that  commands  the  slaying  of  the  victim,  no 
bystander  has  a  right  to  put  out  his  hand  to  stay  the  sacrificial 
knife ;  but  I  hold  you  a  stern  priestess  in  these  matters. 

C.  BRONTE 


Letter  571 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

Afril 2,2nd,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  have  forgotten  whether  the  22nd  is  your 
birthday  or  mine ;  whichever  it  be,  I  wish  you  many  happy  returns. 

Poor  Mr. ,  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  of  his  illness,  especially 

as  I  fear  he  will  never  be  strong. 

You  seem  to  be  quite  gay,  in  paying  and  receiving  visits  ;  take 
care  of  your  health  in  the  midst  of  it  all.  Papa,  I  think,  is  pretty 
well  again  ;  the  attack  was  comparatively  very  slight.  I,  too,  am 
keeping  better ;  a  little  pain  sometimes ;  I  keep  thin ;  but  I  am 
thankful  to  be  so  well. 

When  I  read  to  papa  Mrs.  Joe  Taylor's  account  of  her  system 
with  the  poor  little  water-patient,  he  said  if  that  child  died,  its 
parents  ought  to  be  tried  for  infanticide  t  I  think  they  go  too  far, 
yet  she  says  it  is  stronger  It  is  quite  unlikely  that  you  will 
get  to  Haworth  before  you  go  into  Sussex.  I  deny  myself  pleasure 
just  now. — Yours  sincerely  enough  (as  you  see),  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  572 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  May  nfk,  1852, 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  must  adhere  to  my  resolution  of  neither  visit- 
ing nor  being  visited  at  present.  Stay  you  quietly  at  Brookroyd 
till  you  go  into  Sussex,  as  I  shall  stay  at  Haworth  ;  as. sincere  a 


LONELY  HOURS  265 

farewell  can  be  taken  with  the  heart  as  with  the  lips,  and  perhaps 
less  painful.  I  am  glad  the  weather  is  changed ;  this  return  of 
the  south-west  wind  suits  me ;  but  I  hope  you  have  no  cause  to 
regret  the  departure  of  your  favourite  east  wind.  What  you  say 
about  Amelia  does  not  surprise  me.  I  read  in  a  French  book  lately, 
a  sentence  to  this  effect,  that  '  marriage  might  be  defined  as  the 
state  of  two-fold  selfishness.'  Let  the  single  therefore  take  com- 
fort. Thank  you  for  Mary  Gorham's  letter.  She  does  seem  most 
happy ;  and  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  more  real,  lasting,  and 
better-warranted  her  happiness  seems  than  ever  Amelia's  did. 
I  think  so  much  of  it  is  in  herself,  and  her  own  serene,  pure, 
trusting,  religious  nature.  Amelia's  always  gave  one  the  idea  of 
a  vacillating,  unsteady  rapture;  entirely  dependent  on  circum- 
stances with  all  their  fluctuations.  If  Mary  lives  to  be  a  mother, 
you  will  then  see  a  still  greater  difference. 

I  wish  you,  dear  Ellen,  all  health  and  enjoyment  in  your  visit ; 
and,  as  far  as  one  can  judge  at  present,  there  seems  a  fair  prospect 
of  the  wish  being  realised. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE, 


Letter  573 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  May 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  enclose  Mary's  letter  announcing  Ellen 
Taylor's  death  and  Ellen's  two  last  letters,  sorrowful  documents, 
all  of  them.  I  received  them  this  morning  from  Hunsworth 
without  any  note  or  directions  where  to  send  them,  but  I  think, 
if  I  mistake  not,  Amelia  in  a  previous  note  told  me  to  transmit 
them  to  you.  What  you  say  about  your  sister  Ann  concerns  me 
much;  every  time  I  have  seen  her  for  some  years  I  have  been 
struck  by  her  sickly  and  weary  look ;  most  certainly  there  must 
be  something  seriously  wrong,  either  derangement  or  disease  of 
some  organ.  It  is  very  many  years  now  since  she  has  enjoyed 
good  health.  I  hope  you  will  write  again  very  soon  and  let  me 
know  particularly  how  she  gets  on.  Do  not  fear,  dear  Nell,  that 

I  shall  think  you  conceited  in  what  you  say  about  Mr.  , 

and  do  not  apprehend  either  that  I  shall  give  you  advice.  I 
always  think  the  persons  most  concerned  are  those  who  alone 
can  rightly  judge  the  expediency  or  inexpediency  of  their  own 
case.  That  they  always  do  rightly  judge  I  will  not  affirm,  but  if 
their  bias  is  to  error,  no  other  hand  can  rectify  it, 


266  THE  BRONTES 

It  seems  desirable  that  you  should  have  been  able  to  start  from 
home  at  once  and  without  impediment,  but  who  knows?  A 
temporary  delay  may  turn  out  for  the  best  after  all.  It  is  really 
too  bad  of  Mercy  to  give  trouble  just  now. 

Be  sure  to  write  soon,  and  believe  me,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  B. 

Letter  574 

TO   THE   REV.   P.  BRONTE,   HAWORTH,  YORKS 

CLIFF  HOUSE,  FILEY,  Jum  ina^  1852. 

DEAR  PAPA, — Thank  you  for  your  letter,  which  I  was  so  glad 
to  get  that  I  think  I  must  answer  it  by  return  of  post.  I  had 
expected  one  yesterday,  and  was  perhaps  a  little  unreasonably 
anxious  when  disappointed,  but  the  weather  has  been  so  very  cold 
that  I  feared  either  you  were  ill  or  Martha  worse.  I  hope  Martha 
will  take  care  of  herself.  I  cannot  help  feeling  a  little  uneasy 
about  her. 

On  the  whole,  I  get  on  very  well  here,  but  I  have  not  bathed 
yet,  as  I  am  told  it  is  n-uch  too  cold  and  too  early  in  the  season. 
The  sea  is  very  grand.  Yesterday  it  was  a  somewhat  unusually 
high  tide,  and  I  stood  about  an  hour  on  the  cliffs  yesterday  after- 
noon watching  the  tumbling  in  of  great  tawny  turbid  waves,  that 
made  the  whole  shore  white  with  foam  and  filled  the  air  with  a 
sound  hollower  and  deeper  than  thunder.  There  are  so  very  few 
visitors  at  Filey  yet  that  I  and  a  few  sea-birds  and  fishing-boats 
have  often  the  whole  expanse  of  sea,  shore,  and  cliff  to  ourselves. 
When  the  tide  is  out  the  sands  are  wide,  long,  and  smooth,  and 
very  pleasant  to  walk  on.  When  the  high  tides  are  in,  not  a 
vestige  of  sand  remains.  I  saw  a  great  dog  rush  into  the  sea 
yesterday,  and  swim  and  bear  up  against  the  waves  like  a  seal. 
I  y/onder  what  Flossy  would  say  to  that. 

On  Sunday  afternoon  I  went  to  a  church  which  I  should  like 
Mr.  Nicholls  to  see.  It  was  certainly  not  more  than  thrice  the 
length  and  breadth  of  our  passage,  floored  with  brick,  the  walls 
green  with  mould,  the  pews  painted  white,  but  the  paint  almost 
all  worn  off  with  time  and  decay.  At  one  end  there  is  a  little 
gallery  for  the  singers,  and  when  these  personages  stood  up  to 
perform,  they  all  turned  their  backs  upon  the  congregation,  and 
the  congregation  turned  their  backs  on  the  pulpit  and  parson. 
The  effect  of  this  manoeuvre  was  so  ludicrous,  I  could  hardly  help 
laughing ;  had  Mr.  Nicholls  been  there  he  certainly  would  have 


LONELY  HOURS  207 

laughed  out.  Looking  up  at  the  gallery  and  seeing  only  the 
broad  backs  of  the  singers  presented  to  their  audience  was 
excessively  grotesque.  There  is  a  well-meaning  but  utterly 
inactive  clergyman  at  Filey,  and  Methodists  flourish. 

I  cannot  help  enjoying  Mr.  Butterfield's  defeat ;  and  yet  in  one 
sense  this  is  a  bad  state  of  things,  calculated  to  make  working 
people  both  discontented  and  insubordinate.  Give  my  kind 
regards,  dear  papa,  to  Mr.  Nicholls,  Tabby,  and  Martha.  Charge 
Martha  to  beware  of  draughts,  and  to  get  such  help  in  her 
cleaning  as  she  shall  need.  I  hope  you  will  continue  well. — 
Believe  me,  your  affectionate  daughter,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  575 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

CLIFF  HOUSE,  FILEY,  June  6^  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  at  Filey  utterly  alone.  Do  not  be  angry, 
the  step  is  right.  I  considered  it,  and  resolved  on  it  with  due 
deliberation.  Change  of  air  was  necessary ;  there  were  reasons 
why  I  should  not  go  to  the  south,  and  why  I  should  come  here. 
On  Friday  I  went  to  Scarborough,  visited  the  churchyard  and 
stone.  It  must  be  re-faced  and  re-lettered  ;  there  are  five  errors. 
I  gave  the  necessary  directions.  That  duty,  then,  is  done ;  long 
has  it  lain  heavy  on  my  mind ;  and  that  was  a  pilgrimage  I  felt  I 
could  only  make  alone, 

I  am  in  our  old  lodgings  at  Mrs.  Smith's ;  not,  however,  in  the 
same  rooms,  but  in  less  expensive  apartments.  They  seemed  glad 
to  see  me,  remembered  you  and  me  very  well,  and,  seemingly, 
with  great  goodwill.  The  daughter  who  used  to  wait  on  us  is 
just  married.  Filey  seems  to  me  much  altered ;  more  lodging- 
houses,  some  of  them  very  handsome,  have  been  built ;  the  sea 
has  all  its  old  grandeur,  I  walk  on  the  sands  a  good  deal,  and 
try  not  to  feel  desolate  and  melancholy.  How  sorely  my  heart 
longs  for  you,  I  need  not  say.  I  have  bathed  once ;  it  seemed  to 
do  rne  good.  I  may,  perhaps,  stay  here  a  fortnight.  There  are 
as  yet  scarcely  any  visitors.  A  Lady  Wenlock  is  staying  at  the 
large  house  of  which  you  used  so  vigilantly  to  observe  the 
inmates.  One  day  I  set  out  with  intent  to  trudge  to  Filey 
Bridge,  but  was  frightened  back  by  two  cows.  I  mean  to  try 
again  some  morning. 

Mrs.  Smith  in  talking  about  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hudson  yesterday, 


268  THE  BRONTES 

observed  that  they  were  now  in  altered  circumstances  ;  I  was 
sorry  to  hear  this.  Dear  Nell,  part  of  your  letter  touched  me  to 
the  heart,  but  you  should  have  been  explicit.  What  makes  you 
so  certain^  Have  you  just  grounds  for  your  present  conclusion? 
Not  that  I  would  wish  to  revive  deceptive  hopes.  You  know  I 
am  always  for  facing  the  stern  truth ;  but  still,  life  seems  hard 
and  dreary  for  some  of  us.  And  yet  it  must  be  accepted,  and 
with  submission. 

I  left  papa  well.  I  have  been  a  good  deal  troubled  with  head- 
ache, and  with  some  pain  in  the  side  since  I  came  here,  but  I  feel 
this  has  been  owing  to  the  cold  wind,  for  very  cold  has  it  been  till 
lately ;  at  present  I  feel  better.  Shall  I  send  the  papers  to  you 
as  usual?  Write  again  directly,  and  tell  me  this,  and  anything 
and  everything  else  that  comes  into  your  mind. — Believe  me, 
yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  576 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

FlLEY,  _///#£  i6//;,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  send  the  Examiner  with  this.     The  Leader 

will  be  out  of  place  at  C ;  it  had  better  not  go.     Be  quite  easy 

about  me.  I  really  think  I  am  better  for  my  stay  at  Filey  ;  that 
I  have  derived  more  benefit  from  it  than  I  dared  to  anticipate. 
I  believe,  could  I  stay  here  two  months  and  enjoy  something  like 
social  cheerfulness  as  well  as  exercise  and  good  air,  my  health 
would  be  quite  renewed.  This,  however,  cannot  possibly  be  ;  but  I 
am  most  thankful  for  the  good  received.  I  may  stay  another  week. 

Tell  me  no  particulars,  dear  Nell,  that  would  give  you  pain. 
I  only  asked  because  I  thought  you  might  be  viewing  the  subject 
too  hardly  for  yourself. 

Notice  this.  A  visit  that  opens  very  pleasantly  often  closes  in 
pain  and  disappointment,  and  vice  versd.  Be  of  good  courage,  I 
fancy  somehow  you  will  be  more  comfortable  when  the  wedding 
is  over. 

Your  plan  about  the  school-girls,  the  little  caps,  the  flower- 
scattering,  etc.,  made  me  smile,  and  still  more  the  idea  of  my 
aiding  and  advising  in  it  were  I  on  the  spot.  Not  at  all ;  I  should 
not  relish  it  in  the  least.  Do  it  if  you  like — your  motive  is  kind 
and  excellent.  Mary  and  her  spouse  may  like  that  sort  of  thing ; 
you  know  best 

I  return  E.  Sherwood's  letter.    I  am  sorry  for  her.    I  believe  she 


LONELY  HOURS  269 

suffers;  but  I  do  not  like  her  style  of  expressing  herself;  It 
absolutely  reminds  me  of  Amelia  Walker.  Grief  as  well  as  joy 
manifests  itself  in  most  different  ways  in  different  people;  and  I 
doubt  not  she  is  sincere  and  in  earnest  when  she  talks  of  her 
*  sain  ted  precious  father';  but  I  could  wish  she  used  simpler 
language,  Write  again  soon,  and  believe  me,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  B. 

Letter  577 

TO  L^ETITIA  WHEELRIGHT 


,  1852. 

DEAR  L^TITIA,  —  I  return  that  most  precious  document  —  the 
letter  of  Maria  Miller.  Selfish  indeed  is  the  policy  which  has 
dictated  it  —  worldly  the  adroitness  with  which  the  suggestion  has 
been  carried  out.  The  impudent  pretence  of  revived  interest 
(under  the  circumstances,  it  is  sheer  impudence),  the  sly  postpone- 
ment of  her  real  motive  to  the  postscript,  are  too  bad  ;  yet  the 
whole  is  but  clumsily  managed  —  being  quite  transparent  If  you 
wish  to  have  my  opinion  about  answering  it  —  I  can  only  say  it 
seems  to  me  you  are  bound  to  consult  nothing  in  the  world  in 
this  matter  but  your  own  inclination  and  convenience*  No 
deference  is  due  to  Mrs.  W.  P.  Robertson.  Alas  I  she  proves 
herself  too  unmistakably  selfish. 

I  think  the  less  you  have  to  do  with  her  or  any  of  her  affairs  — 
the  better.  The  residence  at  Boulogne  does  not  sound  very  well  ;. 
Boulogne  is  the  asylum  of  a  not  very  respectable  class.  The 
publication  of  a  work  by  subscription  is  a  decidedly  objectionable, 
shifty,  shabby  expedient.  Wash  your  clean  hands  of  them, 
Lsetitia:  keep  out  of  the  mess.  It  grieves  me  much  that  your 
state  of  health  is  still  so  far  from  satisfactory.  —  Yours  affection- 
ately, CHARLOTTE  BRONTE. 

Letter  578 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

FILEY  BAY,/WW^  23^,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  MISS  WOOLER,  —  Your  kind  and  welcome  note 
reached  me  at  this  place,  where  I  have  been  staying  three  weeks 
quite  alone.  Change  and  sea-air  had  become  necessary  ;  distance 
and  other  considerations  forbade  my  ^accompanying  Ellen  to  the 
south,  much  as  I  should  have  liked  it,  had  I  felt  quite  free  and 
unfettered  ;  Ellen  told  me  some  time  ago  that  you  were  not 


270  THE  BRONTES 

likely  to  visit  Scarbro'  till  the  autumn,  so  I  forthwith  packed  my 
trunk  and  betook  myself  here.  The  first  week  or  ten  days  I 
greatly  feared  the  seaside  would  not  suit  me,  for  I  suffered  almost 
constantly  from  headache  and  other  harassing  ailments ;  the 
weather  too  was  dark,  stormy,  and  excessively,  bitterly  cold ;  my 
solitude,  under  such  circumstances,  partook  of  the  character  of 
desolation  ;  I  had  some  dreary  evening  hours  and  night-vigils. 
However,  that  passed ;  I  think  I  am  now  better  and  stronger 
from  the  change,  and  in  a  day  or  two  hope  to  return  home. 

Ellen  told  me  that  Mr.  W said — people  with  my  tendency 

to  congestion  of  the  liver,  should  walk  three  or  four  hours  every 
day ;  accordingly  I  have  walked  as  much  as  I  could  since  I  came 
here,  and  look  almost  as  sunburnt  and  weather-beaten  as  a  fisher- 
man or  a  bathing-woman,  with  being  out  in  the  open  air.  As  to 
my  work,  it  has  stood  obstinately  still  for  a  long  while  ;  certainly 
a  torpid  liver  makes  torpid  brains:  no  spirit  moves  me.  If  this 
state  of  things  does  not  entirely  change,  my  chance  of  a  holiday 
in  the  autumn  is  not  worth  much.  Yet  I  should  be  very  sorry 
not  to  be  able  to  meet  you  for  a  little  while  at  Scarbro'. 

The  duty  to  be  discharged  at  Scarbro'  was  the  chief  motive  that 
drew  me  to  the  East  Coast :  I  have  been  there,  visited  the  church- 
yard, seen  the  stone,  there  were  five  errors,  consequently  I  had  to 
give  directions  for  its  being  re-faced  and  re-lettered. 

My  dear  Miss  Wooler,  I  do  most  truly  sympathise  with  you  on 
the  success  of  your  kind  efforts  to  provide  for  your  young 
kinsman  ;  I  have  known  what  your  feelings  would  be  under  the 
circumstances.  To  me,  the  decision  of  the  uncles  seems  too 
hard,  too  worldly,  and  I  am  glad  that  Providence  saw  fit  to  make 
you  the  means  of  awarding  him  a  milder  doom.  Poor  youth  ! 
such  banishment  might  have  been  justifiable  in  the  case  of  a 
rough,  reckless,  unmanageable  boy,  but  for  one  whose  disadvan- 
tages had  their  source  in  over-timidity  and  weak  nerves,  it  would 
have  been  really  cruel.  Very  grateful  must  be  his  mother's  feelings 
towards  you. 

Give  my  kind  regards  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clapham. 

Letter  579 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,/#/K  isf,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  again  at  home,  where  (thank  God)  I 
found  all  well.  I  certainly  feel  much  better  than  I  did,  and 


LONELY  HOURS  271 

would  fain  trust  that  the  improvement  may  prove  permanent. 
Do  not  be  Alarmed  about  the  pains  in  your  chest  and  shoulders, 
they  are  certainly  not  desirable,  but,  I  believe,  not  dangerous  nor 
indicative  of  serious  ailment.  The  weather  no  doubt  has  much  to 
do  with  them ;  certain  states  of  the  atmosphere  produce  more  or 
less  of  visceral  congestion,  and  these  pains  are  the  result ;  such  is 
my  theory,  gathered  from  experience.  The  first  fortnight  I  was 
at  Filey  I  had  constantly  recurring  pain  in  the  right  side,  just  in 
the  middle  of  the  chest,  burning  and  aching  between  the  shoulders, 
and  sick  headache  into  the  bargain.  My  spirits  at  the  same  time 
were  cruelly  depressed,  prostrated  sometimes.  I  feared  the 
misery  and  the  sufferings  of  last  winter  were  all  returning,  con- 
sequently I  am  now  indeed  thankful  to  find  myself  so  much 
better.  Tell  me  particularly  how  you  are? 

You  ask  about  India.  Let  us  dismiss  the  subject  in  a  few 
words  and  not  recur  to  it.  All  is  silent  as  the  grave.  Cornhill  is 
silent  too.  There  has  been  bitter  disappointment  there  at  my 
having  no  work  ready  for  this  season.  We  must  not  rely  upon 
our  fellow-creatures,  only  on  ourselves,  and  on  Him  who  is  above 
both  us  and  them.  My  labours  as  you  call  them  stand  in  abey- 
ance, and  I  cannot  hurry  them.  I  must  take  my  own  time, 
however  long  that  time  may  be. 

I  was  amused  to  learn  from  Miss  Martineau  that  Joe  Taylor 
and  suite  during  their  late  visit  to  Ambieside  waited  actually  on 
her  under  the  plea  of  being  my  friends.  I  fancy  she  received 
them  very  kindly.  She  terms  Amelia  a  tranquil  little  Dutch  woman. 
Joe's  organ  of  combativeness  and  contradiction  amused  and 
amazed  her.  She  liked  the  baby  best.  How  inconsistent  of  Joe 
to  make  this  call.  He  who  railed  at  Lord  John  Manners  and 
Mr.  Smythe,  and  accused  them  of  insolence  in  calling  on  me, 

I  send  the  Examiner*  Let  me  hear  from  you  soon,  and  believe 
me,  yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  580 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,/tf/x26M,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  return  Mrs.  T,  H/s  letter.  It  is  the  language 
of  happiness  which  dares  not  trust  Itself  to  full  expression.  A 
kind  of  suppressed  buoyancy  is  obvious  throughout 

I  should  not  have  written  to  you  to-day  by  choice ;  lately  I 
have  again  been  harassed  with  headache,  the  heavy  electric 


272  THE  BRONTES 

atmosphere  oppresses  me  much,  yet  I  am  less  miserable  just  now 
than  I  was  a  little  while  ago.  A  severe  shock  came  upon  me 
about  papa.  He  was  suddenly  attacked  with  acute  inflammation 
of  the  eye.  Mr.  Ruddock  was  sent  for,  and  after  he  had  examined 
him,  he  called  me  into  another  room,  and  said  papa's  pulse  was 
bounding  at  150  per  minute,  that  there  was  a  strong  pressure  of 
blood  upon  the  brain,  that  in  short  the  symptoms  were  decidedly 
apoplectic. 

Active  measures  were  immediately  taken,  by  the  next  day 
the  pulse  was  reduced  to  90.  Thank  God  he  is  now  better, 
though  not  well.  The  eye  is  a  good  deal  inflamed.  He  does  not 
know  his  state,  to  tell  him  he  had  been  in  danger  of  apoplexy 
would  almost  be  to  kill  him  at  once,  it  would  increase  the  rush 
to  the  brain  and  perhaps  bring  about  rupture;  he  is  kept  very 
quiet. 

Dear  Nell,  you  will  excuse  a  short  note.  Write  again  soon, 
tell  me  all  concerning  yourself  that  can  relieve  you. — Yours 
faithfully,  C.  B. 

Letter  581 

TO  W.   S.   WILLIAMS 

July  28M,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Is  it  in  contemplation  to  publish  the  new 
edition  of  Shirley  soon  ?  Would  it  not  be  better  to  defer  it  for 
a  time?  In  reference  to  a  part  of  your  letter,  permit  me  to 
express  this  wish — and  I  trust  in  so  doing  I  shall  not  be  regarded 
as  stepping  out  of  rny  position  as  an  author,  and  encroaching  on 
the  arrangements  of  business — viz.  that  no  announcement  of  a 
new  work  by  the  author  of  Jane  Eyre  shall  be  made  till  the  MS. 
of  such  work  is  actually  in  my  publisher's  hands.  Perhaps  we 
are  none  of  us  justified  in  speaking  very  decidedly  where  the 
future  is  concerned ;  but  for  some  too  much  caution  in  such 
calculations  can  scarcely  be  observed :  amongst  this  number  I 
must  class  myself!  Nor  in  doing  so  can  I  assume  an  apologetic 
tone.  He  does  right  who  does  his  best. 

Last  autumn  I  got  on  for  a  time  quickly.  I  ventured  to  look 
forward  to  spring  as  the  period  of  publication :  my  health  gave 
way ;  I  passed  such  a  winter  as,  having  been  once  experienced, 
will  never  be  forgotten.  The  spring  proved  little  better  than  a 
protraction  of  trial  The  warm  weather  and  a  visit  to  the  sea 
have  done  me  much  good  physically;  but  as  yet  I  have  recovered 


LONELY  HOURS  273 

neither  elasticity  of  animal  spirits  nor  flow  of  the  power  of  com- 
position. And  if  it  were  otherwise  the  difference  would  be  of  no 
avail ;  my  time  and  thoughts  are  at  present  taken  up  with  close 
attendance  on  my  father,  whose  health  is  just  now  in  a  very 
critical  state,  the  heat  of  the  weather  having  produced  determina- 
tion of  blood  to  the  head. — I  am,  yours  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  582 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

August  $rd,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  write  a  line  to  say  that  papa  is  now  con- 
sidered out  of  danger,  his  progress  to  health  is  not  without 
relapse,  but  I  think  he  gains  ground,  if  slowly,  surely.  Mr. 
Ruddock  says  the  seizure  was  quite  of  an  apoplectic  character ; 
there  was  partial  paralysis  for  two  days,  but  the  mind  remained 
clear,  in  spite  of  a  high  degree  of  nervous  irritation.  One  eye 
still  remains  inflamed,  and  papa  is  weak,  but  all  muscular  affection 
is  gone,  and  the  pulse  is  accurate.  One  cannot  be  too  thankful 
that  papa's  sight  is  yet  spared,  it  was  the  fear  of  losing  that 
which  chiefly  distressed  him. 

With  best  wishes  for  yourself,  dear  Ellen,  I  am,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

My  headaches  are  better.  I  have  needed  no  help,  but  I  thank 
you  sincerely  for  your  kind  offers. 


Letter  583 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  August  $t%}  '52. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  thankful  to  say  that  papa's  convalescence 
seems  now  to  be  quite  confirmed.  There  is  scarcely  any  remainder 
of  the  inflammation  in  his  eyes.  He  begins  even  to  look  forward 
to  resuming  his  duty  ere  long,  but  caution  must  be  observed  on 
that  head. 

Martha  has  been  very  willing  and  helpful  during  papa's  illness. 
Poor  Tabby  is  ill  herself  at  present,  with  English  cholera,  which 
with  influenza  has  been  almost  universally  prevalent  in  this 
district ;  I  have  myself  had  a  touch  of  the  last,  but  it  went  off 

VOL.  II.  S 


274  THE  BRONTES 

very  gently  on  the  whole,  affecting  my  chest  and  liver  less  than 
any  cold  has  done  for  the  last  three  years. 

I  write  to  you  about  yourself  rather  under  constraint  and  in  the 
dark,  for  your  letters,  dear  Ellen,  are  most  remarkably  oracular, 
dropping  nothing  but  hints;  which  tie  my  tongue  a  good 
deal.  Your  last  postscript  is  quite  Sybilline.  I  can  hardly 
guess  what  checks  you  in  writing  to  me.  There  is  certainly 
no  one  in  this  house  or  elsewhere  to  whom  I  should  show  your 
notes,  and  I  do  not  imagine  they  are  in  any  peril  in  passing 
through  the  post. 

Perhaps  you  think  that  as  I  generally  write  with  some  reserve, 
you  ought  to  do  the  same.  My  reserve,  however,  has  its  founda- 
tion not  in  design,  but  in  necessity.  I  am  silent  because  I  have 
literally  nothing  to  say.  I  might  indeed  repeat  over  and  over 
again  that  my  life  is  a  pale  blank  and  often  a  very  weary  burden, 
and  that  the  Future  sometimes  appals  me ;  but  what  end  could 
be  answered  by  such  repetition  except  to  weary  you  and  enervate 
myself? 

The  evils  that  now  and  then  wring  a  groan  from  my  heart,  lie 
in  position  ;  not  that  I  am  a  single  woman  and  likely  to  remain 
a  single  woman,  but  because  I  am  a  lonely  woman  and  likely 
to  be  lonely.  But  it  cannot  be  helped  and  therefore  impera- 
tively must  be  borne^  and  borne  too  with  as  few  words  about  it 
as  may  be. 

I  write  all  this  just  to  prove  to  you  that  whatever  you  would 
freely  say  to  me,  you  may  just  as  freely  write. 

Understand,  I  remain  just  as  resolved  as  ever  not  to  allow 
myself  the  holiday  of  a  visit  from  you,  till  I  have  done  my  work. 
After  labour,  pleasure ;  but  while  work  is  lying  at  the  wall  un- 
done, I  never  yet  could  enjoy  recreation. — Yours  very  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  584 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  August  i2/^,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Papa  has  varied  occasionally  since  1  wrote  to 
you  last  Monday  was  a  very  bad  day,  his  spirits  sunk  painfully. 
Tuesday  and  yesterday  however  were  much  better,  and  to-day  he 
seems  wonderfully  well.  The  prostration  of  spirits  which  accom- 


LONELY  HOURS  275 

panics  anything  like  a  relapse,  is  almost  the  most  difficult  point 
to  manage.  Dear  Nell,  you  are  tenderly  kind  in  offering  your 
society ;  but  rest  very  tranquil  where  you  are ;  be  fully  assured 
that  it  is  not  now,  nor  under  present  circumstances,  that  I  feel 
the  lack  either  of  society  or  occupation  ;  my  time  is  pretty  well 
filled  up,  and  my  thoughts  appropriated. 

Mr.  Ruddock  now  seems  quite  satisfied  there  is  no  present 
danger  whatever;  he  says  papa  has  an  excellent  constitution  and 
may  live  many  years  yet,  the  true  balance  is  not  yet  restored  to 
the  circulation,  but  I  believe  that  impetuous  and  dangerous 
termination  to  the  head  is  quite  obviated,  I  cannot  permit 
myself  to  comment  much  on  the  chief  contents  of  your  last; 
advice  is  not  necessary :  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  you  seem  hitherto 
enabled  to  take  these  trials  in  a  good  and  wise  spirit.  I  can  only 
pray  that  such  combined  strength  and  resignation  may  be  con- 
tinued to  you.  Submission,  courage,  exertion,  when  practicable — 
these  seem  to  be  the  weapons  with  which  we  must  fight  life's  long 
battle.— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  585 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

Friday \  1852. 

DEAR  NELL, — I  did  not  think  you  would  at  all  expect  to  hear 
from  me  again  till  you  got  home ;  so  little  as  I  have  to  communi- 
cate, it  did  not  seem  to  me  worth  while  to  write. 

I  do  hope  and  believe  the  changes  you  have  been  having  this 
summer  will  do  you  permanent  good,  notwithstanding  the  pain 
with  which  they  have  been  too  often  mingled.  Yet  I  feel  glad 
that  you  are  soon  coming  home;  and  I  really  must  not  trust 
myself  to  say  how  much  I  wish  the  time  were  come  when,  without 
let  or  hindrance,  I  could  once  more  welcome  you  to  Haworth. 
But  oh !  I  don't  get  on ;  I  feel  fettered,  incapable,  sometimes  very 
low.  However,  at  present,  the  subject  must  not  be  dwelt  upon  ; 
it  presses  me  too  hardly,  wearily,  painfully.  Less  than  ever  can 
I  taste  or  know  pleasure  till  this  work  is  wound  up.  And  yet  I 
often  sit  up  in  bed  at  night,  thinking  of  and  wishing  for  you. 
Thank  you  for  the  Times  \  what  it  said  on  the  mighty  and 
mournful  subject  was  well  said.  All  at  once  the  whole  nation 
seems  to  take  a  just  view  of  that  great  character  [the  Duke  of 
Wellington].  There  was  a  review  too  of  an  American  book,  which 


276  THE  BRONTES 

I  was  glad  to  see.     Read  Uncle  Toms  Cabin :  probably,  though, 
you  have  read  it. 

Papa's  health  continues  satisfactory,  thank  God !  As  for  me, 
my  wretched  liver  has  been  disordered  again  of  late,  but  I  hope 
it  is  now  going  to  be  on  better  behaviour;  it  hinders  me  in 
working,  depresses  both  power  and  tone  of  feeling.  I  must  expect 
this  derangement  from  time  to  time. 

Write  as  soon  as  you  can.  I  hope  this  letter  will  reach  you 
before  you  leave  town.  Good-bye. — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Your  hint  about  Mrs.  Gorham  does  not  in  the  least  surprise  me. 
I  felt  sure  that  alone  you  would  not  be  so  comfortable.  Mary 
Gorham  is  a  genuine  pearl  of  pure  water. 

Letter  586 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  September  -znd^  1852. 

MY  DEAR  MlSS  WOOLER, — I  have  delayed  answering  your 
very  kind  letter  till  I  could  speak  decidedly  respecting  papa's 
health.  For  some  weeks  after  the  attack  there  were  frequent 
variations,  and  once  a  threatening  of  a  relapse,  but  JE"  trust  his 
convalescence  may  now  be  regarded  as  confirmed.  The  acute 
inflammation  of  the  eye,  which  distressed  papa  so  much  as 
threatening  loss  of  sight,  but  which  I  suppose  was  merely 
symptomatic  of  the  rush  of  blood  to  the  brain,  is  now  quite 
subsided  ;  the  partial  paralysis  has  also  disappeared ;  the  appetite 
is  better ;  weakness  with  occasional  slight  giddiness  seem  now  the 
only  lingering  traces  of  disease.  I  am  assured  that  with  papa's 
excellent  constitution,  there  is  every  prospect  of  his  still  being 
spared  to  me  for  many  years* 

For  two  things  I  have  reason  to  be  most  thankful,  viz.  that  the 
mental  faculties  have  remained  quite  untouched,  and  also  that  my 
own  health  and  strength  have  been  found  sufficient  for  the  occa- 
sion. Solitary  as  I  certainly  was  at  Filey,  I  yet  derived  great 
benefit  from  the  change. 

It  would  be  pleasant  at  the  seaside  this  fine  warm  weather, 
and  I  should  dearly  like  to  be  there  with  you ;  to  such  a  treat, 
however,  I  do  not  now  look  forward  at  all  You  will  fully 
understand  the  impossibility  of  my  enjoying  peace  of  mind 


LONELY  HOURS  277 

during  absence  from  papa  under  present  circumstances ;  his 
strength  must  be  very  much  more  fully  restored  before  I  can 
think  of  leaving  home. 

My  dear  Miss  Wooler,  in  case  you  should  go  to  Scarbro'  this 
season,  may  I  request  you  to  pay  one  visit  to  the  churchyard  and 
see  if  the  inscription  on  the  stone  has  been  altered  as  I  directed. 
We  have  heard  nothing  since  on  the  subject,  and  I  fear  the  altera- 
tion may  have  been  neglected. 

Ellen  has  made  a  long  stay  in  the  south,  but  I  believe  she  will 
soon  return  now,  and  I  am  looking  forward  to  the  pleasure  of 
having  her  company  in  the  autumn. 

With  kind  regards  to  all  old  friends,  and  sincere  love  to  your- 
self,— I  am,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  yours  affectionately  and  re- 
spectfully, C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  587 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

September  gth,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  did  not  send  the  Examiner  last  week,  not 
knowing  how  to  address;  I  send  it  however  this  week  as 
usual. 

Thank  you  for  Ann's  notes,  I  like  to  read  them,  they  are  so  full 
of  news,  but  they  are  illegible,  a  great  many  words  I  really  cannot 
make  out.  It  is  pleasing  to  hear  that  Mercy  is  doing  so  well,  and 
the  tidings  about  your  mother  seem  also  good.  What  she  said 
about  'mending  her  manners '  when  Ellen  came  home  made  me 
laugh. 

Papa  continues  pretty  well,  but  his  spirits  often  flag,  and  he 
complains  much  of  weakness. 

I  get  a  note  from  Hunsworth  every  now  and  then,  but  I  fear 
my  last  reply  has  not  given  much  satisfaction ;  it  contained 
a  taste  of  that  unpalatable  commodity  called  admcev  such 
advice  too  as  might  be,  and  I  dare  say  was,  construed  into 
faint  reproof* 

I  can  scarcely  tell  what  there  is  about  Amelia  that  in  spite  of  one's 
conviction  of  her  amiability,  in  spite  of  one's  sincere  wish  for  her 
welfare,  palls  upon  one,  satiates,  stirs  impatience.  She  will  com- 
placently put  forth  opinions  arid  tastes  as  her  own,  which  are  not 
her  own,  nor  in  any  sense  natural  to  her.  She  pretentiously  talks 
Taylorism  with  a  Ringrose  air  and  voice.  My  patience  can 


278  THE  BRONTES 

really  hardly  sustain  the  test  of  such  a  jay  in  borrowed  plumes. 
She  prated  so  much  about  the  fine  wilful  spirit  of  her  child, 
whom  she  describes  as  a  hard  brown  little  thing  who  will  do 
nothing  but  what  pleases  herself,  that  I  hit  out  at  last,  not  very  hard, 
but  enough  to  make  her  think  herself  ill-used,  I  doubt  not.  Can't 
help  it.  She  often  says  she  is  not c  absorbed  in  self/  but  the  fact 
is,  I  have  seldom  seen  any  one  more  unconsciously,  thoroughly, 
and  often  weakly  egotistic.  Then  too  she  is  inconsistent.  In  the 
same  breath  she  boasts  her  matrimonial  happiness  and  whines  for 
sympathy.  Don't  understand  it.  With  a  paragon  of  a  husband 
and  child,  why  that  whining,  craving  note  ?  Either  her  lot  is  not 
all  she  professes  it  to  be,  or  she  is  hard  to  content.  The  fact  is 
she  makes  me  a  little  savage.  How  does  she  write  to  you? 
Answer  soon  and  believe  me,  yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

If  you  be  waited  on  by  lady's-maids  you  '11  have  to  pay  them — 
for  which  reason  I  refuse. 


Letter  588 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  September  zist,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  MlSS  WOOLER, — I  was  truly  sorry  to  hear  that  when 
Ellen  called  at  the  Parsonage  you  were  suffering  from  influenza. 
I  know  that  an  attack  of  this  debilitating  complaint  is  no  trifle 
in  your  case,  as  its  effects  linger  with  you  long.  It  has  been  very 
prevalent  In  this  neighbourhood.  I  did  not  escape,  but  the  sick- 
ness and  fever  only  lasted  a  few  days  and  the  cough  was  not 
severe.  Papa,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  continues  pretty  well ;  Ellen 
thinks  him  little,  if  at  all  altered. 

And  now  for  your  kind  present  The  book  will  be  precious  to 
me — chiefly,  perhaps,  for  the  sake  of  the  giver,  but  also  for  its  own 
sake,  for  it  is  a  good  book ;  and  I  wish  I  may  be  enabled  to  read 
it  with  some  approach  to  the  spirit  you  would  desire.  Its  perusal 
came  recommended  in  such  a  manner  as  to  obviate  danger  of 
neglect ;  its  place  shall  always  be  on  my  dressing-table. 

As  to  the  other  part  of  the  present,  it  arrived  under  these 
circumstances : 

For  a  month  past  an  urgent  necessity  to  buy  and  make  some 
things  for  winter-wear  had  been  importuning  my  conscience ;  the 
buying  might  be  soon  effected,  but  the  making  was  a  more 


LONELY  HOURS  279 

serious  consideration.  At  this  juncture  Ellen  arrives  with  a  good- 
sized  parcel,  which,  when  opened,  disclosed  the  things  I  required, 
perfectly  made  and  of  capital  useful  fabric  ;  adorned  too — which 
seemly  decoration  it  is  but  too  probable  I  might  myself  have 
foregone  as  an  augmentation  of  trouble  not  to  be  lightly  incurred. 
I  felt  strong  doubts  as  to  my  right  to  profit  by  this  sort  of  fairy 
gift,  so  unlocked  for  and  so  curiously  opportune ;  on  reading  the 
note  accompanying  the  garments,  I  am  told  that  to  accept  will  be 
to  confer  a  favour  (!)  The  doctrine  is  too  palatable  to  be  rejected ; 
I  even  waive  all  nice  scrutiny  of  its  soundness — in  short,  I  submit 
with  as  good  a  grace  as  may  be. 

Ellen  has  only  been  my  companion  one  little  week.  I  would 
not  have  her  any  longer,  for  I  am  disgusted  with  myself  and  my 
delays,  and  consider  it  was  a  weak  yielding  to  temptation  in  me 
to  send  for  her  at  all ;  but,  in  truth,  my  spirits  were  getting  low — 
prostrate  sometimes,  and  she  has  done  me  inexpressible  good.  I 
wonder  when  I  shall  see  you  at  Haworth  again.  Both  my  father 
and  the  servants  have  again  and  again  insinuated  a  distinct  wish 
that  you  should  be  requested  to  come  in  the  course  of  the  summer 
and  autumn,  but  I  always  turned  a  deaf  ear :  c  Not  yet,'  was  my 
thought, '  I  want  first  to  be  free — work  first,  then  pleasure/ 

I  venture  to  send  by  Ellen  a  book  which  may  amuse  an  hour: 
a  Scotch  tale  by  a  minister's  wife.  It  seems  to  me  well  told,  and 
may  serve  to  remind  you  of  characters  and  manners  you  have 
seen  in  Scotland.  When  you  have  time  to  write  a  line,  I  shall 
feel  anxious  to  hear  how  you  are.  With  kind  regards  to  all  old 
friends,  and  truest  affection  to  yourself,  in  which  Ellen  joins  me, — 
I  am,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  yours  gratefully  and  respectfully, 

C,  BRONTE, 

Letter  589 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

October  5^,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  must  write  a  line  to  accompany  the  two 
letters  which  I  return  with  thanks.  Mary's  is  very  pleasant  and 
cheerful.  I  hope  you  are  safe  at  home  by  this  time.  Write  very 
soon  and  tell  me  how  you  are,  and  how  you  found  all. 

Dear  Nell,  you  know  very  well  I  should  as  soon  think  of  going 
to  the  moon  as  of  setting  off  to  Brookroyd  at  present ;  no,  I  trust 
when  we  meet  it  will  be  at  Haworth. 


280  THE  BRONTES 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Forster1  made  another  of  their  sudden  calls  here 
yesterday.  They  came  in  a  fly  in  the  midst  of  dreadful  drenching 
weather.  A  lady  accompanied  them,  a  Miss  Dixon  from  Dublin  ; 
it  seems  there  is  some  distant  connection  between  her  family  and 
that  of  the  Birmingham  Dixons,  but  they  have  no  personal  inter- 
course. They  wanted  to  take  me  back  with  them  ;  of  course, 
vainly.  Papa  and  I  are  both  under  pressure  of  colds  at  present 
I  was  very  uneasy  about  papa  on  Sunday,  but  I  trust  he  is  better 
now ;  so  I  think  am  I.  Do  you  escape  pretty  well  ? 

I  send  the  newspapers.    Write  soon. — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  590 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

October  gth,  1852. 

DEAR  NELL, — Papa  expresses  so  strong  a  wish  that  I  should 
ask  you  to  come,  and  I  feel  some  little  refreshment  so  absolutely 
necessary  myself,  that  I  really  must  beg  you  to  come  to  Haworth 
for  one  single  week.  I  thought  I  would  persist  in  denying  my- 
self till  I  had  done  my  work,  but  I  find  it  won't  do,  the  matter 
refuses  to  progress,  and  this  excessive  solitude  presses  too  heavily, 
so  let  me  see  your  dear  face  just  for  one  reviving  week. 

Could  you  come  on  Wednesday?  Write  and  let  me  know  by 
what  train  you  would  reach  Keighley,  that  I  may  send  for  you. 

I  am  right  glad  that  you  keep  up  your  courage  so  nobly,  how 
much  better,  how  much  wiser  than  to  sink  in  bodily  and  mental 
weakness,  The  effort  will  have  its  reward. 

We  will  leave  all  other  matters  to  talk  about.— Yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE, 

Letter  591 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

Tuesday,  October  26t&,  '52. 

DEAR  NELL, — Your  note  came  only  this  morning,  I  had 
expected  it  yesterday  and  was  beginning  actually  to  feel  uneasy, 

1  Mr.  W.  E.  Forster(l8i9-iS86),  the  statesman  and  educationalist,  married  a  daughter 
of  Dr.  Arnold  in  1850.  Mrs.  Forster,  in  a  letter  to  the  editor,  regretted  that  she  had  kept 
none  of  Miss  Bronte's  letters. 


LONELY  HOURS  281 

like  you.  This  won't  do,  I  am  afraid  of  caring  for  you  too 
much. 

You  must  have  come  upon  Hunsworth  at  an  unfavourable 
moment;  seen  it  under  a  cloud.  Surely  they  are  not  often  thus, 
or  else  married  life  is  indeed  but  a  slipshod  paradise.  I  am  glad, 
however,  that  the  child  is,  as  we  conjectured,  pretty  well. 

Miss  Wooler's  note  is  indeed  kind,  good,  and  characteristic. 

I  only  send  the  Examiner y  not  having  yet  read  the  Leader.  I  was 
spared  the  remorse  I  feared.  On  Saturday  I  fell  to  business,  and  as 
the  welcome  mood  is  still  decently  existent,  and  my  eyes  conse- 
quently excessively  tired  with  scribbling,  you  must  excuse  a  mere 
scrawl.  You  left  your  smart  shoes.  Papa  was  glad  to  hear  you 
had  got  home  well,  as  well  as  myself.  Regards  to  all.  Good-bye. 
— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

I  do  miss  my  dear  companion.     No  more  of  that  calm  sleep. 


282  THE  BRONTES 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

THE  WRITING  OF  'VILLETTE' 

THE  morbid  atmosphere  that  she  had  breathed  during  the 
months  prior  to  the  publication  of  Villette  led  Charlotte 
Bronte  into  a  feverish  uncertainty  as  to  the  views  of  her 
publishers  upon  that  book.  A  few  hours'  delay  in  a  letter 
and  she  would  have  rushed  up  to  London  to  call  upon  her 
Cornhill  friends. 

Letter  592 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH 

October  30^,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — You  must  notify  honestly  what  you  think  of 
Villette  when  you  have  read  it.  I  can  hardly  tell  you  how  I 
hunger  to  hear  some  opinion  beside  my  own,  and  how  I  have 
sometimes  desponded,  and  almost  despaired,  because  there  was 
no  one  to  whom  to  read  a  line,  or  of  whom  to  ask  a  counsel. 
Jane  Eyre  was  not  written  under  such  circumstances,  nor  were 
two-thirds  of  Shirley.  I  got  so  miserable  about  it,  I  could  bear 
no  allusion  to  the  book.  It  is  not  finished  yet ;  but  now  I  hope. 
As  to  the  anonymous  publication,  I  have  this  to  say:  If  the 
withholding  of  the  author's  name  should  tend  materially  to 
injure  the  publisher's  interest,  to  interfere  with  booksellers' 
orders,  etc.,  I  would  not  press  the  point;  but  if  no  such  detriment 
is  contingent  I  should  be  much  thankful  for  the  sheltering  shadow 
of  an  incognito.  I  seem  to  dread  the  advertisements — the  large- 
lettered  *  Currer  Bell's  New  Novel/  or  £  New  Work  by  the  Author 
of  fane  Eyre?  These,  however,  I  feel  well  enough,  are  the 
transcendentalisms  of  a  retired  wretch;  so  you  must  speak 
frankly.  ...  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  Colonel  Esmond.  My  objec- 
tion to  the  second  volume  lay  here:  I  thought  it  contained 
decidedly  too  much  History — too  little  Story. 


THE  WRITING  OF  'VILLETTE'         283 

You  will  see  that  Villette  touches  on  no  matter  of  public 
interest.  I  cannot  write  books  handling  the  topics  of  the  day; 
it  is  of  no  use  trying.  Nor  can  I  write  a  book  for  its  moral.  Nor 
can  I  take  up  a  philanthropic  scheme,  though  I  honour  philan- 
thropy ;  and  voluntarily  and  sincerely  veil  my  face  before  such 
a  mighty  subject  as  that  handled  in  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe's  work, 
Uncle  Tonts  Cabin.  To  manage  these  great  matters  rightly  they 
must  be  long  and  practically  studied — their  bearings  known 
intimately,  and  their  evils  felt  genuinely;  they  must  not  be  taken 
up  as  a  business  matter  and  a  trading  speculation.  I  doubt  not 
Mrs.  Stowe  had  felt  the  iron  of  slavery  enter  into  her  heart,  from 
childhood  upwards,  long  before  she  ever  thought  of  writing  books. 
The  feeling  throughout  her  work  is  sincere  and  not  got  up. 
Remember  to  be  an  honest  critic  of  Villette,  and  tell  Mr.  Williams 
to  be  unsparing :  not  that  I  am  likely  to  alter  anything,  but  I 
want  to  know  his  impressions  and  yours. 

Letter  593 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH 

November  3rd,  1852. 

MY  BEAR  SIR, — I  feel  very  grateful  for  your  letter  ;  it  relieved 
me  much,  for  I  was  a  good  deal  harassed  by  doubts  as  to  how 
Villette  might  appear  in  other  eyes  than  my  own.  I  feel  in  some 
degree  authorised  to  rely  on  your  favourable  impressions,  because 
you  are  quite  right  where  you  hint  disapprobation.  You  have 
exactly  hit  two  points  at  least  where  I  was  conscious  of  defect — 
the  discrepancy,  the  want  of  perfect  harmony,  between  Graham's 
boyhood  and  manhood — the  angular  abruptness  of  his  change  of 
sentiment  towards  Miss  Fanshawe.  You  must  remember,  though, 
that  in  secret  he  had  for  some  time  appreciated  that  young  lady 
at  a  somewhat  depressed  standard — held  her  a  little  lower  than 
the  angels.  But  still  the  reader  ought  to  have  been  better  made 
to  feel  this  preparation  towards  a  change  of  mood.  As  to  the 
publishing  arrangements,  I  leave  them  to  Cornhill.  There  is, 
undoubtedly,  a  certain  force  in  what  you  say  about  the  inexpedi- 
ency of  affecting  a  mystery  which  cannot  be  sustained  ;  so  you 
must  act  as  you  think  is  for  the  best  I  submit,  also,  to  the 
advertisements  in  large  letters,  but  under  protest,  and  with  a  kind 
of  ostrich  longing  for  concealment.  Most  of  the  third  volume  is 
given  to  the  development  of  the  *  crabbed  Professor's '  character 


284  THE  BRONTES 

Lucy  must  not  marry  Dr.  John  ;  he  Is  far  too  youthful,  handsome, 
bright-spirited,  and  sweet-tempered;  he  Is  a 'curled  darling'  of 
Nature  and  of  Fortune,  and  must  draw  a  prize  In  life's  lottery. 
His  wife  must  be  young,  rich,  pretty  ;  he  must  be  made  very 
happy  Indeed.  If  Lucy  marries  anybody  it  must  be  the  Professor 
— a  man  in  whom  there  is  much  to  forgive,  much  to  *  put  up  with.' 
But  I  am  not  leniently  disposed  towards  Miss  Frost  ^  from  the 
beginning  I  never  meant  to  appoint  her  lines  in  pleasant  places. 
The  conclusion  of  this  third  volume  Is  still  a  matter  of  some 
anxiety:  I  can  but 'do  my  best,  however.  It  would  speedily  be 
finished,  could  I  ward  off  certain  obnoxious  headaches,  which 
whenever  I  get  into  the  spirit  of  my  work,  are  apt  to  seize  and 
prostrate  me.  ... 

Colonel  Henry  Esmond  is  just  arrived.  He  looks  very  antique 
and  distinguished  In  his  Queen  Anne's  garb  ;  the  periwig,  sword, 
lace,  and  ruffles  are  very  well  represented  by  the  old  Spectator 
type.  C.  BRONTE. 

In  1848  Thackeray  sent  Miss  Bronte,  as  we  have 
seen,  a  copy  of  Vanity  Fair.  In  this  year  he  sent  her, 
through  Mr.  George  Smith,  a  copy  of  Esmond,  with  the 
more  cordial  inscription  which  came  of  friendship. 


Letter  594 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH 

HA  WORTH. 

The  third  volume  seemed  to  me  to  possess  the  most  sparkle, 
impetus,  and  interest.  Of  the  first  and  second  my  judgment  was 
that  parts  of  them  were  admirable ;  but  there  was  the  fault  of 
containing  too  much  History — too  little  Story.  I  hold  that  3 

1  In  the  original  manuscript,  in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  George  Smith,  'Lncy  Frost* 
may  be  seen  with  the  name  of  *  Frost  *  erased  and  *  Snowe  *  substituted. 


THE  WRITING  OF  'VILLETTE'         285 

work  of  fiction  ought  to  be  a  work  of  creation:  that  the  real 
should  be  sparingly  introduced  in  pages  dedicated  to  the  ideal 
Plain  household  bread  is  a  far  more  wholesome  and  necessary 
thing  than  cake ;  yet  who  would  like  to  see  the  brown  loaf  placed 
upon  the  table  for  dessert?  In  the  second  volume  the  author  gives 
us  an  ample  supply  of  excellent  brown  bread ;  in  his  third,  only 
such  a  portion  as  gives  substance,  like  the  crumbs  of  bread  in  a 
well-made,  not  too  rich,  plum-pudding.  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  595 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

October $isf,  1852. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Mrs.  Upjohn's  letter,  which  I  return,  interested 
me  a  good  deal.  It  reads  like  the  production  of  a  warmhearted, 
good-natured  woman.  There  is  a  sort  of  vivacity  of  temperament 
and  feeling  about  it  which  seems  to  have  had  genuineness  to 
survive  such  a  catalogue  of  afflictions  as  rarely  fall  in  succession 
on  one  human  being.  Poor  woman !  she  has  been  sorely 
tried. 

Her  proposal  to  you  is  peculiar.  If  I  rightly  understood  it,  it 
amounts  to  this.  That  you  should  go  and  spend  some  time  with 
her,  that  if  the  result  was  mutually  satisfactory,  she  would  wish  in 
a  sense  to  adopt  you,  with  the  prospect  of  leaving  you  property, 
amount  of  course  indefinite.  Her  affectionate  remembrance,  which 
has  suggested  this  idea,  says  much  both  to  your  credit  and  hers, 
It  seems  to  me  that  the  visit  should  be  made  ;  if  not  now,  as  you 
have  so  lately  been  from  home,  yet  next  Spring,  and  this  is  all 
(I  think)  you  are  now  called  upon  to  decide;  the  rest  may  be' 
left  for  future  consideration.  After  your  visit  your  way  will 
be  clearer.  I  cannot  help  wishing  that  something  permanently 
advantageous  to  you  may  spring  from  this  incident.  Yet  it  is 
a  case  which  presents  difficulties.  To  leave  your  own  home  and 
mother  for  the  society  of  two  elderly  invalids  is  a  step  demanding 
caution. 

I  have  just  got  a  letter  from  New  Zealand,  which  I  enclose ;  it 
made  me  sad.  I  cannot  help  earnestly  wishing  that  Mary  were 
back  in  England  if  one  could  see  an  opening  for  making  her  way. 
Give  my  love  to  your  mother  and  believe  me,  dear  Nell, — Yours 
faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 


286  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  596 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

November  6f%,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  must  not  delay  thanking  you  for  your  kind 
letter,  with  its  candid  and  able  commentary  on  Villette.  With 
many  of  your  strictures  I  concur.  The  third  volume  may, 
perhaps,  do  away  with  some  of  the  objections ;  others  still  remain 
in  force.  I  do  not  think  the  interest  culminates  anywhere  to  the 
degree  you  would  wish.  What  climax  there  is  does  not  come 
on  till  near  the  conclusion ;  and  even  then  I  doubt  whether  the 
regular  novel-reader  will  consider  the  '  agony  piled  sufficiently 
high'  (as  the  Americans  say),  or  the  colours  dashed  on  to  the 
canvas  with  the  proper  amount  of  daring.  Still,  I  fear,  they  must 
be  satisfied  with  what  is  offered  ;  my  palette  affords  no  brighter 
tints;  were  I  to  attempt  to  deepen  the  reds,  or  burnish  the 
yellows,  I  should  but  botch. 

Unless  I  am  mistaken  the  emotion  of  the  book  will  be  found  to 
be  kept  throughout  in  tolerable  subjection.  As  to  the  name  of 
the  heroine,  I  can  hardly  express  what  subtlety  of  thought  made 
me  decide  upon  giving  her  a  cold  name ;  but  at  first  I  called  her 
<Lucy  Snowe'  (spelt  with  an  ce'),  which  Snowe  I  afterwards 
changed  to *  Frost.'  Subsequently  I  rather  regretted  the  change, 
and  wished  it 'Snowe'  again.  If  not  too  late  I  should  like  the 
alteration  to  be  made  now  throughout  the  MS.  A  cold  name  she 
must  have  ;  partly,  perhaps,  on  the  * lucus  a  non  lucendo9  principle 
— partly  on  that  of  the  c  fitness  of  things,'  for  she  has  about  her 
an  external  coldness. 

You  say  that  she  may  be  thought  morbid  and  weak,  unless  the 
history  of  her  life  be  more  fully  given.  I  consider  that  she  is 
both  morbid  and  weak  at  times ;  her  character  sets  up  no  preten- 
sions to  unmixed  strength,  and  anybody  living  her  life  would 
necessarily  become  morbid.  It  was  no  impetus  of  healthy  feeling 
which  urged  her  to  the  confessional,  for  instance ;  it  was  the  semi- 
delirium  of  solitary  grief  and  sickness.  If,  however,  the  book 
does  not  express  all  this,  there  must  be  a  great  fault  somewhere. 
I  might  explain  away  a  few  other  points,  but  it  would  be  too 
much  like  drawing  a  picture  and  then  writing  underneath  the 
name  of  the  object  intended  to  be  represented.  We  know  what 
sort  of  a  pencil  that  is  which  needs  an  ally  in  the  pen. 

Thanking  you  again  for  the  clearness  and  fulness  with  which 


THE  WRITING  OF  'VILLETTE'         287 

you  have  responded  to  my  request  for  a  statement  of  impressions, 
I  am,  my  dear  sir,  yours  very  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

I  trust  the  work  will  be  seen  in  MS.  by  no  one  except  Mr. 
Smith  and  yourself. 

Letter  597 

TO  W.   S.  WILLIAMS 

November  iof&,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  only  wished  the  publication  of  Shirley  to  be 
delayed  till  Villette  was  nearly  ready ;  to  that  there  can  now  be 
no  objection  to  its  being  issued  whenever  you  think  fit.  About 
putting  the  MS.  into  type  I  can  only  say  that,  should  I  be  able 
to  proceed  with  the  third  volume  at  my  average  rate  of  com- 
position, and  with  no  more  than  the  average  amount  of  interrup- 
tions, I  should  hope  to  have  it  ready  in  about  three  weeks.  I 
leave  it  to  you  to  decide  whether  it  would  be  better  to  delay  the 
printing  that  space  of  time,  or  to  commence  it  immediately.  It 
would  certainly  be  more  satisfactory  if  you  were  to  see  the  third 
volume  before  printing  the  first  and  the  second ;  yet,  if  delay  is 
likely  to  prove  injurious,  I  do  not  think  it  is  indispensable.  I 
have  read  the  third  volume  of  Esmond.  I  found  it  both  entertain- 
ing and  exciting  to  me;  it  seems  to  possess  an  impetus  and 
excitement  beyond  the  other  two ;  that  movement  and  brilliancy 
its  predecessors  sometimes  wanted  never  fail  here.  In  certain 
passages  I  thought  Thackeray  used  all  his  powers ;  their  grand, 
serious  force  yielded  a  profound  satisfaction.  'At  last  he  puts 
forth  his  strength,'  I  could  not  help  saying  to  myself.  No  charac- 
ter in  the  book  strikes  me  as  more  masterly  than  that  of  Beatrix ;  Its 
conception  is  fresh,  and  its  delineation  vivid.  It  is  peculiar;  it  has 
impressions  of  a  new  kind — new,  at  least,  to  me.  Beatrix  is  not, 
in  herself,  all  bad.  So  much  does  she  sometimes  reveal  of  what 
is  good  and  great  as  to  suggest  this  feeling ;  you  would  think  she 
was  urged  by  a  Fate.  You  would  think  that  some  antique  doom 
presses  on  her  house,  and  that  once  in  so  many  generations  its 
brightest  ornament  was  to  become  its  greatest  disgrace.  At  times 
what  is  good  in  her  struggles  against  this  terrible  destiny,  but  the 
Fate  conquers.  Beatrix  cannot  be  an  honest  woman  and  a  good 
man's  wife.  She  c  tries  and  she  cannot'  Proud,  beautiful,  and 
sullied,  she  was  born  what  she  becomes,  a  king's  mistress.  I 
know  not  whether  you  have  seen  the  notice  in  the  Leader\  I  read 


288  THE  BRONTES 

it  just  after  concluding  the  book.  Can  I  be  wrong  in  deeming  it 
a  notice  tame,  cold,  and  insufficient?  With  all  its  professed 
friendliness  it  produced  on  me  a  most  disheartening  impression. 
Surely  another  sort  of  justice  than  this  will  be  rendered  to  Esmond 
from  other  quarters.  One  acute  remark  of  the  critic  is  to  the 
effect  that  Blanche  Amory  and  Beatrix  are  identical — sketched 
from  the  same  original !  To  me  they  are  about  as  identical  as  a 
weasel  and  a  royal  tigress  of  Bengal;  both  the  latter  are  quad- 
rupeds, both  the  former  women.  But  I  must  not  take  up  either 
your  time  or  my  own  with  further  remarks. — Believe  me  yours 
sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  598 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

Nov.  29^,  1852,  Monday  Morning. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Truly  thankful  am  I  to  be  able  to  tell  you 
that  I  finished  my  long  task  x  on  Saturday ;  packed  and  sent 
off  the  parcel  to  Cornhill.  I  said  my  prayers  when  I  had  done  it. 
Whether  it  is  well  or  ill  done,  I  don't  know.  D.V.  I  will  now  try 
to  wait  the  issue  quietly.  The  book,  I  think,  will  not  be  considered 
pretentious,  nor  is  it  of  a  character  to  excite  hostility. 

As  papa  is  pretty  well,  I  may,  I  think,  dear  Nell,  do  as  you 
wish  me  and  come  for  a  few  days  to  Brookroyd.  Miss  Martineau 
has  also  urgently  asked  me  to  go  and  see  her.  I  promised  if  all 
were  well  to  do  so,  the  close  of  November  or  beginning  of  Decem- 
ber. So  that  I  could  go  from  Brookroyd  to  Westmoreland. 
Would  Wednesday  suit  you  ?  I  should  leave  Keighley  by  the  2 
o'clock  train — reach  Bradford  by  20  minutes  after  2.  I  should 
get  to  Heckmondwike  by  8  minutes  past  3.  Thence,  if  it  were 
not  convenient  to  send  the  gig  to  meet  me,  I  would  walk,  and  get 
ray  luggage  sent  on.  Whether  would  it  be  better  to  stop  at 
Heckmondwike  or  Liversedge? 

Esmond  shall  come  with  me,  that  is,  Thackeray's  novel.  Yours 
in  cruel  haste,  C  BRONTE. 

Letter  599 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH 

December  6th,  1852, 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — The  receipts  have  reached  me  safely.  I  received 
the  first  on  Saturday,  enclosed  in  a  cover  without  a  line,  and  had 

1   VitUtte. 


THE  WRITING  OF  <  VILLETTE '         289 

made  up  my  mind  to  take  the  train  on  Monday,  and  go  up  to 
London  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  what  had  struck  my 
publisher  mute.  On  Sunday  morning  your  letter  came,  and  you 
have  thus  been  spared  the  visitation  of  the  unannounced  and 
unsummoned  apparition  of  Currer  Bell  in  Cornhill.  Inexplicable 
delays  should  be  avoided  when  possible,  for  they  are  upt  to  urge 
those  subjected  to  their  harassment  to  sudden  and  impulsive 
steps. 

I  must  pronounce  you  right  again,  in  your  complaint  of  the 
transfer  of  interest  in  the  third  volume  from  one  set  of  characters 
to  another.  It  is  not  pleasant,  and  it  will  probably  be  found  as 
unwelcome  to  the  reader  as  it  was,  in  a  sense,  compulsory  upon 
the  writer.  The  spirit  of  romance  would  have  indicated  another 
course,  far  more  flowery  and  inviting ;  it  would  have  fashioned  a 
paramount  hero,  kept  faithfully  with  him,  and  made  him  supremely 
worshipful ;  he  should  have  an  idol,  and  not  a  mute,  unresponding 
idol  either ;  but  this  would  have  been  unlike  real  life — inconsistent 
with  truth — at  variance  with  probability,  I  greatly  apprehend, 
however,  that  the  weakest  character  in  the  book  is  the  one  I  aimed 
at  making  the  most  beautiful ;  and,  if  this  be  the  case,  the  fault 
lies  in  its  wanting  the  germ  of  the  real — in  its  being  purely 
imaginary.  I  felt  that  this  character  lacked  substance ;  I  fear 
that  the  reader  will  feel  the  same.  Union  with  it  resembles  too 
much  the  fate  of  Ixion,  who  was  mated  with  a  cloud.  The  child- 
hood of  Paulina  is,  however,  I  think,  pretty  well  imagined,  but 
her  .  .  .  [the  remainder  of  this  interesting  sentence  is  torn  off  the 
letter].  A  brief  visit  to  London  becomes  thus  more  practicable, 
and  if  your  mother  will  kindly  write,  when  she  has  time,  and 
name  a  day  after  Christmas  which  will  suit  her,  I  shall  have 
pleasure,  papa's  health  permitting,  in  availing  myself  of  her 
invitation.  I  wish  I  could  come  in  time  to  correct  some  at  least 
of  the  proofs ;  it  would  save  trouble.  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  600 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

BROOKROYD,  December  7/^,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  MISS  WOOLER, — Since  you  were  so  kind  as  to  take 
some  interest  in  my  small  tribulation  of  Saturday,  I  write  a  line 
to  tell  you  that  on  Sunday  morning  a  letter  came  which  put  me 
VOL.  ii.  T 


290  THE  BRONTES 

out  of  pain  and  obviated  the  necessity  of  an  impromptu  journey 
to  London. 

The  money  transaction^  of  course,  remains  the  same,  and  perhaps 
is  not  quite  equitable  ;  but  when  an  author  finds  that  his  work  is 
cordially  approved,  he  can  pardon  the  rest — indeed,  my  chief 
regret  now  lies  in  the  conviction  that  papa  will  be  disappointed : 
he  expected  me  to  earn  ^750,  nor  did  I  myself  anticipate  that  a 
lower  sum  would  be  offered  ;  however,  ^500  is  not  to  be  despised. 

Your  sudden  departure  from  Brookroyd  left  a  legacy  of  con- 
sternation to  the  bereaved  breakfast-table.  Ellen  was  not  easily 
to  be  soothed,  though  I  diligently  represented  to  her  that  you  had 
quitted  Ha  worth  with  the  same  inexorable  haste.  I  am  commis- 
sioned to  tell  you,  first,  that  she  has  decided  not  to  go  to  Yarmouth 
till  after  Christmas,  her  mother's  health  having  within  the  last  few 
days  betrayed  some  symptoms  not  unlike  those  which  preceded 
her  former  illness ;  and  though  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  these  may 
pass  without  any  untoward  result,  yet  they  naturally  increase 
Ellen's  reluctance  to  leave  home  for  the  present. 

Secondly,  I  am  to  say,  that  when  the  present  you  left  came  to 
be  examined,  the  costliness  and  beauty  of  it  inspired  some  con- 
cern. Ellen  thinks  you  are  too  kind,  as  I  also  think  every  morning, 
for  I  am  now  benefiting  by  your  kind  gift. 

With   sincere  regards  to  all  at  the  Parsonage,  and  especially 

thanks  to  Mr.  C as  a  friend  who,  having  temporarily  been  lost, 

is  again  found, — I  am,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  yours  respectfully 
and  affectionately, 

C.  BRONTE. 

P. S. — I  shall  direct  that  Esmond  (Mr.  Thackeray's  work)  shall 
be  sent  on  to  you  as  soon  as  the  Hunsworth  party  have  read  it 
It  has  already  reached  a  second  edition. 

Letter  60 1 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

Dec.  gt&,  1852,  Thursday  Morning. 

DEAR  NELL, — I  got  home  safely  at  five  o'clock  yesterday  after- 
noon, and,  I  am  most  thankful  to  say,  found  papa  and  all  the  rest 
well.  I  did  my  business  satisfactorily  In  Leeds,  the  head-dress 
re-arranged  as  I  wish ;  it  is  now  a  very  different  matter  to  the 
bushy,  tasteless  thing  it  was  before* 


THE  WRITING  OF  'VILLETTE'          291 

On  my  arrival  I  found  no  proof-sheets,  but  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Smith,  which  I  would  have  enclosed,  but  so  many  words  are 
scarcely  legible,  you  would  have  no  pleasure  in  reading  It:  he 
continues  to  make  a  mystery  of  his  '  reason ' — something  in  the 
third  volume  sticks  confoundedly  in  his  throat,  and  as  to  the 
'female  character3  about  which  I  asked,  he  responds  crabbedly 
that, '  She  is  an  odd,  fascinating  little  puss/  but  affirms  that  he  is 
*  not  in  love  with  her.'  He  tells  me  also  that  he  will  answer  no 
more  questions  about  Villette. 

This  morning  I  have  a  brief  note  from  Mr.  Williams  intimating 
that  he  has  '  not  yet  been  permitted  to  read  the  3rd  vol.1  Also 
there  is  a  note  from  Mrs.  Smith,  very  kind,  I  almost  wish  I  could 
still  look  on  that  kindness  just  as  I  used  to  do :  it  was  very 
pleasant  to  me  once. 

Write  immediately ,  Dear  Nell,  and  tell  me  how  your  mother  is. 
Give  my  kindest  regards  to  her  and  all  at  Brookroyd.  Every- 
body was  very  good  to  me  this  last  visit,  I  remember  them  with 
corresponding  pleasure.  Papa  seems  glad  on  the  whole  to  hear 
you  are  not  going  to  Yarmouth  just  yet;  he  thinks  you  should  be 
cautious. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

I  enclose  a  postage  stamp  for  the  Jd.  you  were  to  pay  for  me  at 
the  station.  Don't  forget  it. 


292  THE  BRONTES 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

ARTHUR  BELL  NICHOLLS 

WITHOUT  the  kindly  assistance  of  the  late  Mr.  Arthur 
Bell  Nicholls,  this  collection  of  letters  could  never 
have  been  prepared.  To  him  I  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude 
in  that  he  placed  in  my  hands  a  multitude  of  documents 
that  may  never  otherwise  have  seen  the  light.  There 
are,  however,  no  painful  secrets  to  reveal,  no  skeletons 
to  lay  bare.  Mr.  Nicholls's  story  was  a  very  simple 
one ;  and  that  it  was  entirely  creditable  to  him,  there 
is  abundant  evidence.  Amid  the  full  discussion  to 
which  the  lives  of  the  Brontes  have  necessarily  been 
subjected  through  their  ever-continuous  fame,  it  was 
perhaps  inevitable  that  a  contrary  opinion  should  gain 
ground.  Many  of  Mr.  Nicholls's  relatives  in  Ireland  were 
wont  to  sigh  over  the  perverted  statements  which  obtained 
currency.  *  It  is  cruel  that  your  uncle  Arthur,  the  best  of 
men,  as  we  know,  should  be  thus  treated/  was  the  comment 
of  Mr.  Nicholls's  brother  to  his  daughter  after  reading  an 
unfriendly  article  concerning  Charlotte's  husband.  Yet  it 
was  not  unnatural  that  such  an  estimate  should  get  abroad  ; 
and  I  may  frankly  admit  that  until  I  met  Mr.  Nicholls  I 
believed  that  Charlotte  Bronte's  marriage  had  been  an 
unhappy  one— an  opinion  gathered  partly  from  Mrs. 
Gaskell,  partly  from  current  tradition  in  Yorkshire.  Mrs. 
Gaskell,  in  fact,  did  not  like  Mr.  Nicholls,  and  there  were 
those  with  whom  she  came  in  contact  while  writing  Miss 
Bronte's  Life  who  were  eager  to  fan  that  feeling  in  the 
usually  kindly  biographer.1  Mr.  Nicholls  himself  did  not 

1  The  following  letter  from  Mrs.   Gaskell  to  Mr.  W.  Smith  Williams,  dated  46 


Jlrthur  3) ell  jVidu>Ufi 


id6i 


ARTHUR  BELL  NICHOLLS  293 

work  in  the  direction  of  conciliation.  He  was,  as  we  know, 
a  Scotsman,  and  Scots  taciturnity  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  genial  and  jovial  Yorkshire  folk  did  not  make  for 
friendliness.  Furthur,  he  would  not  let  Mrs.  Gaskell 
'  edit J  and  change  The  Professor.  He  hated  publicity,  and 
above  all  things  viewed  the  attempt  to  pierce  the  veil  of 
his  married  life  with  almost  morbid  detestation. 

Mr.  Nicholls  was  born  in  Co.  Antrim  in  1817,  but  of 
Scots  parents  on  both  sides.  His  actual  name  was  Nicoll. 
He  was  left  at  the  age  of  seven  to  the  charge  of  an  uncle 
— the  Rev.  Alan  Bell — who  was  headmaster  of  the  Royal 
School  at  Banagher,  in  King's  Co.  Mr.  Nicholls  after- 
wards entered  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  and  it  was  thence 

Plymouth  Grove,  December  20th,  1860,  is  one  of  many  documentary  indications  of  this 
that  are  in  my  possession  : — 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — When  I  was  abroad  this  summer,  I  was  introduced  to  a  Miss 
Burnett,  who  asked  me  for  an  introduction  to  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  with  a  view 
to  the  publication  of  an  MS.  which  she  had  then  in  hand.  The  other  day  she  wrote 
to  claim  the  fulfilment  of  my  promise  ;  and  I  have  thought  it  best  to  perform  it  by 
writing  direct  to  yourself,  as  I  have  been  sending  Mr.  Smith  lately  so  many  similar 
introductions  that  I  have  some  scruples  in  troubling  him  further  in  that  way.  Besides 
you  have  always  been  so  kind  to  me,  however  and  whenever  I  have  applied  to  you,  that 
I  think  you  will  forgive  me,  if  my  bringing  this  MS.  under  your  notice  should  uselessly 
waste  your  time. 

We  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mr.  Lowes  Dickinson  last  Saturday  week,  and  a  real 
pleasure  it  was  to  us.  Mr.  Gaskell  missed  his  share,  however,  owing  to  his  inevitable 
Saturday  night's  sermon,  but  we  hope  that  Mr.  Dickinson  will  come  and  see  us  again 
when  he  returns  to  Manchester,  and  then  Mr.  Gaskell  will  make  up  for  lost  time. 

About  six  weeks  ago  I  paid  a  visit  to  Mr.  Bronte,  and  sat  for  about  an  hour  with  him. 
He  is  completely  confined  to  bed  now,  but  talks  hopefully  of  leaving  it  again  when  the 
summer  comes  round.  I  am  afraid  that  it  will  not  be  leaving  it  as  he  plans,  poor  old 
man  !  He  is  touchingly  softened  by  illness ;  but  still  talks  in  his  pompous  way,  and 
mingles  moral  remarks  and  somewhat  stale  sentiments  with  his  conversation  on  ordinary 
subjects.  Mr.  Nicholls  seems  to  keep  him  rather  in  terrorem*  He  is  more  unpopular 
in  the  village  than  ever  ;  and  seems  to  have  even  a  greater  aversion  than  formerly  to  any 
strangers  visiting  his  wife's  grave ;  or,  indeed,  to  any  reverence  paid  to  her  memory, 
even  by  those  who  knew  and  loved  her  for  her  own  sake.  He  refused  to  christen  Mr. 
Greenwood's  last  child  when  he  heard  that  it  was  to  be  named  *  Bronte '  after  her,  and 
the  child  remained  unchristened  for  six  months  in  consequence,  when  its  great  delicacy 
coming  to  Mr.  Bronte's  knowledge,  he  sent  for  it  privately  and  christened  it  in  his  own 
room,  When  Mr.  Nicholls  came  upon  its  name  upon  the  register  book,  Mr.  Greenwood 
says  that  he  stormed  and  stamped,  and  went  straight  home  to  the  Parsonage  to  Mr. 
Bronte  to  ask  him  for  his  reasons  in  going  so  directly  against  his  wishes.  Fortunately 
Mr.  Bronte  had  the  excellent  defence  of  saying  that  if  the  child  had  died  unchristened 
Mr.  Nicholls's  case  would  have  been  extremely  awkward,  and  that  be  had  thus  saved  him 
from  a  great  scrape, — Believe  me  yours  most  sincerely,  E.  C.  GASKELL. 


294  THE  BUONTES 

that  he  went  to  Haworth,  his  first  curacy.  He  succeeded 
a  fellow-countryman,  Mr.  James  William  Smith,  in  1844. 

The  first  reference  we  have  to  Mr.  Nicholls  in  Charlotte 
Bronte's  letters  is  more  favourable  in  its  judgment  than 
was  that  on  his  predecessors  in  the  Haworth  curacy. 
She  writes  to  a  Mrs.  Rand,  on  May  26,  1844,  a  brief 
note  of  which  I  have  not  a  copy,  but  its  only  important 
statement  runs  as  follows  : — '  Papa  has  got  a  new  curate 
lately,  a  Mr.  Nicholls,  from  Ireland — he  did  duty  for  the 
first  time  on  Sunday — he  appears  a  respectable  young  man, 
reads  well,  and  I  hope  will  give  satisfaction/  At  a  later 
date,  however,  she  writes  to  her  friend  Ellen  Nussey : — 
1 1  cannot  for  my  life  see  those  interesting  germs  of  good- 
ness in  him  you  discovered ;  his  narrowness  of  mind 
always  strikes  me  chiefly/1  but  with  the  years  came 
kindlier  feelings  until  we  have  the  description  of  him  as 
Mr.  Macarthey  in  Shirley,  over  which  he  laughed  so 
heartily : — 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  remark  that,  on  the  premature  and  sudden 
vanishing  of  Mr.  M alone  from  the  stage  of  Briarfield  parish,  .  .  . 
there  came  as  his  successor  another  Irish  curate,  Mr.  Macarthey. 
I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  Inform  you,  with  truth,  that  this  gentle- 
man did  as  much  credit  to  his  country  as  Malone  had  done  it 
discredit ;  he  proved  himself  as  decent,  decorous,  and  conscien- 
tious, as  Peter  was  rampant,  boisterous,  and — (this  last  epithet 
I  choose  to  suppress,  because  it  would  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag). 
He  laboured  faithfully  in  the  parish ;  the  schools,  both  Sunday 
and  day-schools,  flourished  under  his  sway  like  green  bay-trees. 
Being  human,  of  course  he  had  his  faults ;  these,  however,  were 
proper,  steady-going,  clerical  faults :  the  circumstance  of  finding 
himself  invited  to  tea  with  a  dissenter  would  unhinge  him  for  a 
week  ;  the  spectacle  of  a  Quaker  wearing  his  hat  in  the  church, 
the  thought  of  an  unbaptized  fellow-creature  being  interred  with 
Christian  rites — these  things  could  make  strange  havoc  in  Mr. 
Macartney's  physical  and  mental  economy;  otherwise  he  was 
sane  and  rational,  diligent  and  charitable. 

Mr.  Nicholls  had  been  Mr.  Bronte's  curate  for  some 

1  Letter  of  October  2nd,  1844. 


ARTHUR  BELL  NICHOLLS  295 

eight  years  before  he  proposed  for  his  daughter's  hand. 
The  father's  attitude  was  irreconcilably  adverse.  Long 
years  afterwards  Mr.  Nicholls  told  me,  in  the  midst  of  a 
vigorous  defence  of  Mr.  Bronte  alike  as  father,  as  priest, 
and  as  friend,  that  he  considered  the  aged,  infirm  incum- 
bent of  Haworth  had  much  right  on  his  side  even  in  this 
passionate  opposition.  Mr.  Nicholls  held  a  curacy  worth 
about  ;£ioo  per  annum.  Charlotte  had  in  a  measure  the 
world  at  her  feet.  She  had  already  refused  the  vicar  of 
Hathersage,  and  Mr.  Taylor,  a  man  of  good  status  in 
London  and  Bombay.  For  this  his  only  surviving 
daughter  he  had  boundless  ambition.  Mrs.  Gaskell  tells 
us,  moreover,  that  he  always  denounced  marriage  in  the 
abstract.  I  prefer,  however,  here  as  always,  that  the 
letters  should  speak  for  themselves. 

Letter  602 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

December  i$th:  1852. 

DEAR  NELL, — I  return  Mrs.  Upjohn's  note  which  is  highly 
characteristic,  and  not,  I  fear,  of  good  omen  for  the  comfort  of 
your  visit.  There  must  be  something  wrong  in  herself  as  well  as  in 
her  servants.  I  enclose  another  note  which,  taken  in  conjunction 
with  the  incident  immediately  preceding  it,  and  with  a  long  series  of 
indications  whose  meaning  I  scarce  ventured  hitherto  to  interpret 
to  myself,  much  less  hint  to  any  other,  has  left  on  my  mind  a  feeling 
of  deep  concern.  This  note,  you  will  see,  is  from  Mr.  Nicholls. 

I  know  not  whether  you  have  ever  observed  him  specially  when 
staying  here,  your  perception  is  generally  quick  enough,  too  quick 
I  have  sometimes  thought,  yet  as  you  never  said  anything,  I  re- 
strained my  own  dim  misgivings,  which  could  not  claim  the  sure 
guide  of  vision.  What  papa  has  seen  or  guessed  I  will  not  inquire 
though  I  may  conjecture.  He  has  minutely  noticed  all  Mr. 
Nicholls's  low  spirits,  all  his  threats  of  expatriation,  all  his 
symptoms  of  impaired  health,  noticed  them  with  little  sympathy 
and  much  indirect  sarcasm.  On  Monday  evening  Mr.  Nicholls 
was  here  to  tea.  I  vaguely  felt  without  clearly  seeing,  as  without 
seeing,  I  have  felt  for  some  time,  the  meaning  of  his  constant 


296  THE  BRONTES 

looks,  and  strange,  feverish  restraint.  After  tea  I  withdrew  to 
the  dining-room  as  usual.  As  usual,  Mr.  Nicholls  sat  with  papa 
till  between  eight  and  nine  o'clock,  I  then  heard  him  open  the 
parlour  door  as  if  going.  I  expected  the  clash  of  the  front-door. 
He  stopped  in  the  passage :  he  tapped :  like  lightning  it  flashed 
on  me  what  was  coming.  He  entered,  he  stood  before  me.  What 
his  words  were  you  can  guess  ;  his  manner,  you  can  hardly  realise, 
nor  can  I  forget  it  Shaking  from  head  to  foot,  looking  deadly 
pale,  speaking  low,  vehemently  yet  with  difficulty,  he  made  me  for 
the  first  time  feel  what  it  costs  a  man  to  declare  affection  where 
he  doubts  response. 

The  spectacle  of  one  ordinarily  so  statue-like,  thus  trembling, 
stirred,  and  overcome,  gave  me  a  kind  of  strange  shock.  He 
spoke  of  sufferings  he  had  borne  for  months,  of  sufferings  he 
could  endure  no  longer,  and  craved  leave  for  some  hope.  I  could 
only  entreat  him  to  leave  me  then  and  promise  a  reply  on  the 
morrow.  I  asked  him  if  he  had  spoken  to  papa.  He  said,  he 
dared  not  I  think  I  half  led,  half  put  him  out  of  the  room. 
When  he  was  gone  I  immediately  went  to  papa,  and  told  him 
what  had  taken  place.  Agitation  and  anger  disproportionate  to 
the  occasion  ensued;  if  I  had  loved  Mr.  Nicholls  and  had  heard 
such  epithets  applied  to  him  as  were  used,  it  would  have  trans- 
ported me  past  my  patience ;  as  it  was,  my  blood  boiled  with  a 
sense  of  injustice,  but  papa  worked  himself  into  a  state  not  to  be 
trifled  with,  the  veins  on  his  temples  started  up  like  whipcord, 
and  his  eyes  became  suddenly  bloodshot.  I  made  haste  to  promise 
that  Mr.  Nicholls  should  on  the  morrow  have  a  distinct  refusal. 

I  wrote  yesterday  and  got  this  note.  There  is  no  need  to  add 
to  this  statement  any  comment.  Papa's  vehement  antipathy  to 
the  bare  thought  of  any  one  thinking  of  me  as  a  wife,  and  Mr. 
Nicholls's  distress,  both  give  me  pain.  Attachment  to  Mr.  Nicholls 
you  are  aware  I  never  entertained,  but  the  poignant  pity  inspired 
by  his  state  on  Monday  evening,  by  the  hurried  revelation  of  his 
sufferings  for  many  months,  is  something  galling  and  irksome. 
That  he  cared  something  for  me,  and  wanted  me  to  care  for  him, 
I  have  long  suspected,  but  I  did  not  know  the  degree  or  strength 
of  his  feelings.  Dear  Nell,  good-bye. — Yours  faithfully, 

C  BRONTE. 

I  have  letters  from  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth  and  Miss  Martineau, 
but  I  cannot  talk  of  them  now. 


ARTHUR  BELL  NICHOLLS  297 

Letter  603 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  December  i8/A,  '52. 

DEAR  NELL, — You  may  well  ask,  How  is  it?  for  I  am  sure  I 
don't  know.  This  business  would  seem  to  me  like  a  dream,  did 
not  my  reason  tell  me  it  has  long  been  brewing.  It  puzzles  me 
to  comprehend  how  and  whence  comes  this  turbulence  of  feeling. 

You  ask  how  papa  demeans  himself  to  Mr.  Nicholls.  I  only 
wish  you  were  here  to  see  papa  in  his  present  mood  :  you  would 
know  something  of  him.  He  just  treats  him  with  a  hardness  not 
to  be  bent,  and  a  contempt  not  to  be  propitiated.  The  two 
have  had  no  interview  as  yet :  all  has  been  done  by  letter.  Papa 
wrote,  I  must  say,  a  most  cruel  note  to  Mr.  Nicholls  on  Wednesday. 
In  his  state  of  mind  and  health  (for  the  poor  man  Is  horrifying 
his  landlady,  Martha's  mother,  by  entirely  rejecting  his  meals)  I 
felt  that  the  blow  must  be  parried,  and  I  thought  it  right  to 
accompany  the  pitiless  despatch  by  a  line  to  the  effect  that,  while 
Mr.  Nicholls  must  never  expect  me  to  reciprocate  the  feeling  he 
had  expressed,  yet  at  the  same  time  I  wished  to  disclaim  partici- 
pation in  sentiments  calculated  to  give  him  pain  ;  and  I  exhorted 
him  to  maintain  his  courage  and  spirits.  On  receiving  the  two 
letters,  he  set  off  from  home.  Yesterday  came  the  enclosed  brief 
epistle. 

You  must  understand  that  a  good  share  of  papa's  anger  arises 
from  the  idea,  not  altogether  groundless,  that  Mr.  Nicholls  has  be- 
haved with  disingenuousness  in  so  long  concealing  his  aim,  forging 
that  Irish  fiction,  etc.  I  am  afraid  also  that  papa  thinks  a  little 
too  much  about  his  want  of  money  ;  he  says  that  the  match  would 
be  a  degradation,  that  I  should  be  throwing  myself  away,  that  he 
expects  me,  if  I  marry  at  all,  to  do  very  differently ;  in  short,  his 
manner  of  viewing  the  subject  is,  on  the  whole,  far  from  being  one 
in  which  I  can  sympathise.  My  own  objections  arise  from  a  sense 
of  incongruity  and  uncongeniality  in  feelings,  tastes,  principles. 

How  are  you  getting  on,  dear  Nell,  and  how  are  all  at  Brook- 
royd?  Remember  me  kindly  to  everybody.  Yours,  wishing 
devoutly  that  papa  would  resume  his  tranquillity,  and  Mr.  N.  his 
beef  and  pudding,  C.BRONTE. 

I  am  glad  to  say  that  the  incipient  inflammation  in  papa's  eye 
Is  disappearing. 


298  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  604 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

January  ind*  1853. 

DEAR  NELL, — I  thought  of  you  on  New  Year's  night,  and  hope 
you  got  well  over  your  formidable  tea-making.  I  trust  that  Tues- 
day and  Wednesday  will  also  pass  pleasantly.  I  am  busy  too  in 
my  little  way,  preparing  to  go  to  London  this  week,  a  matter 
which  necessitates  some  little  application  to  the  needle.  I  find 
it  is  quite  necessary  I  should  go  to  superintend  the  press,  as 
Mr.  Smith  seems  quite  determined  not  to  let  the  printing  get  on 
till  I  come.  I  have  actually  only  received  three  proof-sheets  since 
I  was  at  Brookroyd  Papa  wants  me  to  go  too,  to  be  out  of  the 
way,  I  suppose,  but  I  am  sorry  for  one  other  person  whom  nobody 
pities  but  rne.  Martha  is  bitter  against  him ;  John  Brown  says, 
1  he  should  like  to  shoot  him.'  They  don't  understand  the  nature 
of  his  feelings,  but  I  see  now  what  they  are.  He  is  one  of  those 
who  attach  themselves  to  very  few,  whose  sensations  are  close  and 
deep,  like  an  underground  stream,  running  strong,  but  in  a  narrow 
channel.  He  continues  restless  and  ill,  he  carefully  performs  the 
occasional  duty,  but  does  not  come  near  the  church,  procuring  a 
substitute  every  Sunday,  A  few  days  since,  he  wrote  to  papa 
requesting  permission  to  withdraw  his  resignation.  Papa  answered 
that  he  should  only  do  so  on  condition  of  giving  his  written  pro- 
mise never  again  to  broach  the  obnoxious  subject  either  to  him 
or  to  me.  This  he  has  evaded  doing,  so  the  matter  remains  un- 
settled. I  feel  persuaded  the  termination  will  be  his  departure 
for  Australia.  Dear  Nell,  without  loving  him,  I  don't  like  to  think 
of  him  suffering  in  solitude,  and  wish  him  anywhere  so  that  he 
were  happier.  He  and  papa  have  never  met  or  spoken  yet,  I  am 
very  glad  to  learn  that  your  mother  is  pretty  well,  and  also  that 
the  piece  of  challenged  work  is  progressing.  I  hope  you  will  not 
be  called  away  to  Norfolk  before  I  come  home :  I  should  like  you 
to  pay  a  visit  to  Haworth  first  Write  again  soon.— Yours  faith- 
fully, C.  BRONTE. 


ARTHUR  BELL  NICHOLLS  299 

Letter  605 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

112  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE, 
HYDE  P 'ARK,  January  nth^  1853, 

DEAR  NELL, — I  came  here  last  Wednesday.  I  had  a  delightful 
day  for  my  journey,  and  was  kindly  received  at  the  close. 

My  time  has  passed  pleasantly  enough  since  I  came,  yet  I  have 
not  much  to  tell  you,  nor  is  it  likely  I  shall  have ;  I  do  not  mean 
to  go  out  much  or  see  many  people.  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth  wrote 
to  me  two  or  three  times  before  I  left  home,  and  made  me  promise 
to  let  him  know  when  I  should  be  in  town,  but  I  reserved  to  myself 
the  right  of  deferring  the  communication  till  the  latter  part  of 
my  stay.  I  really  so  much  dread  his  excited  fuss,  that  I  only 
wish  to  see  just  as  much  of  him  as  civility  exacts. 

All  in  this  house  appear  pretty  much  as  usual  and  yet  I  see  some 
changes.  Mrs.  Smith  and  her  daughters  are  looking  well,  but  on 
Mr.  Smith  hard  work  is  telling  early,  the  very  lines  of  his  features 
are  altered ;  it  is  rather  the  remembrance  of  what  he  was  than 
the  fact  of  what  he  is  which  can  warrant  the  picture  I  have  been 
accustomed  to  give  of  him.  One  feels  pained  to  see  a  physical 
alteration  of  this  kind,  yet  I  feel  glad  and  thankful  that  it  is 
merely  physical ;  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  mind  and  manners  have 
undergone  no  deterioration,  rather,  I  think,  the  contrary.  The 
weight  of  work  bearing  upon  him  is  really  fearful.  In  some  of 
his  notes  to  me  I  half  suspected  exaggeration ;  it  was  no  ex- 
aggeration, far  otherwise.  Mr,  Taylor  is  said  to  be  getting  on 
well  in  India. 

No  news  from  home,  and  I  feel  a  little  uneasy  to  hear  how 
papa  is.  I  left  him  well,  but  at  his  age  one  especially  feels  the 
uncertainty  of  health.  Remember  me  affectionately  to  all  at 
Brookroyd.  Write  again  soon,  and  believe  me,  dear  Nell,  yours 
faithfully,  C  BRONTE. 

I  hope  you  enjoyed  yourself  at  Mrs.  BJs.  You  must  tell  me 
how  you  got  on. 


300  THE  BRONTES 


Letter  606 

TO  MRS.   GASKELL 

LONDON,  January  I2th,  1853. 

It  is  with  you  the  ball  rests.  I  have  not  heard  from  you  since 
I  wrote  last  ;  but  I  thought  I  knew  the  reason  of  your  silence, 
viz.  application  to  work  —  and  therefore  I  accept  it,  not  merely 
with  resignation,  but  with  satisfaction. 

I  am  now  in  London,  as  the  date  above  will  show  ;  staying  very 
quietly  at  my  publisher's,  and  correcting  proofs,  etc.  Before 
receiving  yours  I  had  felt,  and  expressed  to  Mr.  Smith,  reluctance 
to  come  in  the  way  of  Ruth\  not  that  I  think  she  would  suffer 
from  contact  with  Villette  —  we  know  not  but  that  the  damage 
might  be  the  other  way  —  but  I  have  ever  held  comparisons  to  be 
odious,  and  would  fain  that  neither  I  nor  my  friends  should  be 
made  subjects  for  the  same.  Mr.  Smith  proposes,  accordingly,  to 
defer  the  publication  of  my  book  till  the  24th  inst.  ;  he  says  that 
\vill  give  Ruth  the  start  in  the  papers,  daily  and  weekly,  and  also 
will  leave  free  to  her  all  the  February  magazines.  Should  this 
delay  appear  to  you  insufficient,  speak  !  and  it  shall  be  protracted. 
I  dare  say,  arrange  as  we  may,  we  shall  not  be  able  wholly  to 
prevent  comparisons  ;  it  is  the  nature  of  some  critics  to  be 
invidious  ;  but  we  need  not  care  :  we  can  set  them  at  defiance  ; 
they  shall  not  make  us  foes,  they  shall  not  mingle  with  our  mutual 
feelings  one  taint  of  jealousy  :  there  is  my  hand  on  that  :  I  know 
you  will  give  clasp  for  clasp. 

Villette  has  indeed  no  right  to  push  itself  before  Ruth.  There 
is  a  goodness,  a  philanthropic  purpose,  a  social  use  in  the  latter, 
to  which  the  former  cannot  for  an  instant  pretend  ;  nor  can  it 
claim  precedence  on  the  ground  of  surpassing  power  :  I  think  it 
much  quieter  than  Jane  Eyre. 


I  wish  to  see^«,  probably  at  least  as  much  as  you  can  wish  to 
see  me,  and  therefore  shall  consider  your  invitation  for  March  as 
an  engagement  ;  about  the  close  of  that  month,  then,  I  hope  to 
pay  you  a  brief  visit  With  kindest  remembrances  to  Mr.  Gaskell 
and  all  your  precious  circle,  I  am,  etc.,  C.  BRONTE. 


ARTHUR  BELL  NICHOLLS  301 

Letter  607 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

112  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE,  January  19?%,  '53. 

DEAR  NELL, — Mrs.  H.'s  letter  I  read  with  pleasure;  it  is  so 
truly  kind  and  friendly.  I  thank  you  for  your  brief  account  of 
the  party.  I  can  hardly  tell  what  to  say  about  Mr.  Nicholls  in 
a  letter ;  it  is  a  subject  rather  to  talk  than  write  about. 

I  still  continue  to  get  on  very  comfortably  and  quietly  in 
London  in  the  way  I  like,  seeing  rather  things  than  persons. 
Being  allowed  to  have  my  own  choice  of  sights  this  time,  I 
selected  rather  the  real  than  the  decorative  side  of  life.  I  have 
been  over  two  prisons,  ancient  and  modern,  Newgate  and  Penton- 
ville,  also  the  Bank,  the  Exchange,  the  Foundling  Hospital,  and 
to-day,  if  all  be  well,  I  go  with  Dr.  Forbes  to  see  Bethlehem 
Hospital.  Mrs.  Smith  and  her  daughters  are,  I  believe,  a  little 
amazed  at  my  gloomy  tastes,  but  I  take  no  notice. 

Papa,  I  am  glad  to  say,  continues  well.  I  enclose  portions  of 
two  notes  of  his  which  will  show  you,  better  than  anything  I  can 
say,  how  he  treats  a  certain  subject :  one  of  the  notes  purports  to 
be  written  by  Flossy  !  I  think  of  staying  here  till  next  Wednes- 
day. What  are  your  present  plans  with  regard  to  Mrs.  Upjohn? 
You  must  if  possible  come  to  Haworth  before  you  go  into  Norfolk. 

My  book  is  to  appear  at  the  close  of  this  month.  Mrs.  Gaskell 
wrote  so  pitifully  to  beg  it  should  not  clash  with  her  Ruth,  that  it 
was  impossible  to  refuse  to  defer  the  publication  a  week  or  two. 

I  hope  your  mother  continues  pretty  well,  and  also  Ann,  Mercy, 
and  Mrs.  Clapham.  Give  my  best  love  to  all.  Is  the  work 
getting  on  ?  Write  very  soon,  and  believe  me,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 


802  THE  BRONTES 


CHAPTER    XXX 

THE  LAST  NOVEL 

THE  publication  of  Villette  in  January  1853  once  more 
placed  Charlotte  Bronte's  name  to  the  front  among  con- 
temporary writers  of  fiction.  A  consensus  of  literary 
opinion  now  proclaims  it  to  be  her  best  book.  It  has 
been  surmised1  that  Bretton  is  Burlington  or  Bridlington, 
the  Yorkshire  watering-place  that  Miss  Bronte  twice 
visited,  and  where  she  and  her  sister  contemplated  opening" 
a  school ;  but  another  topographical  student  of  the  Bronte 
novels2  favours  York  as  the  place  the  author  intended. 
Villette  is  of  course  Brussels,  and  the  Pensionnat  H6ger 
looms  important  in  the  story.  The  H6tel  Crecy,  the 
residence  of  M.  de  Bassompierre,  is,  Mr.  Wroot  thinks, 
the  H6tel  Mengelle  in  the  Rue  Royale,  formerly  the  Hotel 
Cluysenaar.  The  Church  of  St.  Jean  Baptiste,  whose 
bell  was  heard  from  the  school,  was  the  Church  of  St. 
Jacques-sur-Caudenberg,  and  the  church  of  Lucy  Snowe's 
confession  was  the  Cathedral  of  Ste.  Gudule.  Brussels 
speaks  at  every  point  to  the  reader  of  this  remarkable 
story.  In  intensity  and  dramatic  feeling  Villette  puts  all 
other  *  novels  of  place '  in  the  background.3 

1  By  Mr.  P.  F.  Lee,  Transactions  of  the  Bronte  Society^  part  iv.  pp.  24-25. 

2  The  Persons  and  Places  of  the  Bronte  Novels^  by  Herbert  E.  Wroot.      Villette  and 
The  Profetwr:  Bronte  Society  Publications.     Supplementary  Part. 

3  Yet  tourists  wander  about  Rome  with   Hawthorne's  Marble  faun,  and  about 
Florence  with  George  Eliot's  Romola.     No  one,  I  suppose,  has  carried  Villette  about 
Brussels. 


THE  LAST  NOVEL  303 

Letter  608 

TO   MISS  WOOLER 

January  27 th,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  MlSS  WOOLER, — I  received  your  letter  here  in 
London,  where  I  have  been  staying  about  three  weeks,  and  shall 
probably  remain  a  few  days  longer.  Villette  is  to  be  published 
to-morrow.  Its  appearance  has  been  purposely  delayed  hitherto, 
to  avoid  discourteous  clashing  with  Mrs.  GaskelFs  new  work. 
Your  name  was  one  of  the  first  on  the  list  of  presentees,  and 
directed  to  the  Parsonage,  where  I  shall  also  send  this  letter,  as 
you  mention  that  you  are  to  leave  Halifax  at  the  close  of  this 
week.  I  will  bear  in  mind  what  you  say  about  Mrs.  Morgan  ;  and 
should  I  ever  have  an  opportunity  of  serving  her,  will  not  omit 
to  do  so.  I  only  wish  my  chance  of  being  useful  were  greater. 
Schools  seem  to  be  considered  almost  obsolete  in  London. 
Ladies'  colleges,  with  professors  for  every  branch  of  instruction, 
are  superseding  the  old-fashioned  seminary.  How  the  system 
will  work  I  can't  tell.  I  think  the  college  classes  might  be  very 
useful  for  finishing  the  education  of  ladies  intended  to  go  out  as 
governesses,  but  what  progress  little  girls  will  make  in  them 
seems  to  me  another  question. 

My  dear  Miss  Wooler,  I  read  attentively  all  you  say  about 
Miss  Martineau ;  the  sincerity  and  constancy  of  your  solicitude 
touches  me  very  much.  I  should  grieve  to  neglect  or  oppose 
your  advice,  and  yet  I  do  not  feel  that  it  would  be  right  to  give 
Miss  Martineau  up  entirely.  There  is  in  her  nature  much  that 
is  very  noble.  Hundreds  have  forsaken  her,  more,  I  fear,  in  the 
apprehension  that  their  fair  names  may  suffer  if  seen  in  connec- 
tion with  hers,  than  from  any  pure  convictions,  such  as  you 
suggest,  of  harm  consequent  on  her  fatal  tenets.  With  these 
fair-weather  friends  I  cannot  bear  to  rank.  And  for  her  sin,  is 
it  not  one  of  those  which  God  and  not  man  must  judge  ? 

To  speak  the  truth,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  I  believe  if  you 
were  in  my  place,  and  knew  Miss  Martineau  as  I  do — if  you  had 
shared  with  me  the  proofs  of  her  rough  but  genuine  kindliness, 
and  had  seen  how  she  secretly  suffers  from  abandonment,  you 
would  be  the  last  to  give  her  up ;  you  would  separate  the  sinner 
from  the  sin,  and  feel  as  if  the  right  lay  rather  in  quietly  adhering 
to  her  in  her  strait,  while  that  adherence  is  unfashionable  and 


304  THE  BRONTES 

unpopular,  than  In  turning  on  her  your  back  when  the  world  sets 
the  example.  I  believe  she  is  one  of  those  whom  opposition  and 
desertion  make  obstinate  in  error,  while  patience  and  tolerance 
touch  her  deeply  and  keenly,  and  incline  her  to  ask  of  her  own 
heart  whether  the  course  she  has  been  pursuing  may  not  possibly 
be  a  faulty  course.  However,  I  have  time  to  think  of  this  subject, 
and  I  shall  think  of  it  seriously. 

As  to  what  I  have  seen  in  London  during  my  present  visit, 
I  hope  one  day  to  tell  you  all  about  it  by  our  fireside  at  home. 
When  you  write  again  will  you  name  a  time  when  it  would  suit 
you  to  come  and  see  me ;  everybody  in  the  house  would  be  glad 
of  your  presence  ;  your  last  visit  is  pleasantly  remembered  by  all. 

With  kindest  regards, — I  am  always,  affectionately  and  respect- 
fully yours,  C.  BRONTE. 

This  eulogy  of  Miss  Martineau,  old-fashioned  as  it  reads 
to-day,  was  soon  followed  by  a  reaction.  After  a  review 
by  her  of  the  novel  in  the  Daily  News  Charlotte  Bronte's 
regard  cooled  very  much.  Miss  Martineau  had  insisted 
that  the  book  made  love  too  general  and  too  absorbing  a 
factor  in  women's  lives,  and  protested  against  the  assump- 
tion that  '  events  and  characters  are  to  be  regarded  through 
the  medium  of  one  passion  only/  I  give  together  the 
three  fragments  of  correspondence  that  remain  of  this 
quarrel,  if  quarrel  it  can  be  called,  between  the  two. 


Letter  609 

TO  MISS  HARRIET   MARTINEAU 

January  2isf,  1853. 

I  know  that  you  will  give  me  your  thoughts  upon  my  book, 
as  frankly  as  if  you  spoke  to  some  near  relative  whose  good  you 
preferred  to  her  gratification.  I  wince  under  the  pain  of  con- 
demnation, like  any  other  weak  structure  of  flesh  and  blood  ;  but 
I  love,  I  honour,  I  kneel  to  truth.  Let  her  smite  me  on  the  one 
cheek — good!  the  tears  may  spring  to  the  eyes;  but  courage! 
there  is  the  other  side ;  hit  again,  right  sharply. 

C.  BRONTE. 


THE  LAST  NOVEL  305 

Letter  610 

TO  MISS   BRONTE 

As  for  the  other  side  of  the  question,  which  you  so  desire  to 
know,  I  have  but  one  thing  to  say ;  but  it  is  not  a  small  one.  I 
do  not  like  the  love,  either  the  kind  or  the  degree  of  it ;  and  its 
prevalence  in  the  book,  and  effect  on  the  action  of  it,  help  to 
explain  the  passages  In  the  reviews  which  you  consulted  me 
about,  and  seem  to  afford  some  foundation  for  the  criticisms  they 
offered.  H.  MARTINEAU. 

Among  Miss  Bronte's  papers  I  find  the  following  letter 
to  Miss  Martineau,  written  with  a  not  unnatural  resent- 
ment after  the  publication  of  her  review  of  Shirley  in 
the  Daily  News  : — 

Letter  611 

TO  MISS  HARRIET  MARTINEAU 

MY  DEAR  Miss  MARTINEAU, — I  think  I  best  show  my  sense 
of  the  tone  and  feeling  of  your  last,  by  immediate  compliance 
with  the  wish  you  express  that  I  should  send  your  letter.  I  en- 
close it,  and  have  marked  with  red  ink  the  passage  which  struck 
me  dumb.  All  the  rest  is  fair,  right,  worthy  of  you,  but  I  protest 
against  this  passage ;  and  were  I  brought  up  before  the  bar  of 
all  the  critics  in  England,  to  such  a  charge  I  should  respond, 
*  Not  guilty/ 

I  know  what  love  is  as  I  understand  it ;  and  if  man  or  woman 
should  be  ashamed  of  feeling  such  love,  then  is  there  nothing 
right,  noble,  faithful,  truthful,  unselfish  in  this  earth,  as  I  com- 
prehend rectitude,  nobleness,  fidelity,  truth,  and  disinterested- 
ness.— Yours  sincerely,  C.  B. 

To  differ  from  you  gives  me  keen  pain. 

Once  more  she  writes  from  London  to  her  most  intimate 
friend. 

VOL.  II.  U 


306  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  612 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

112  GLOUCESTER  TERRACE, 
HYDE  PARK,  January  28^,  '53. 

DEAR  NELL, — I  have  been  longing  to  write  to  you  every  day 
this  week  and  have  not  been  able,  my  time  is  much  taken  up. 
In  the  three  hours  of  leisure  afforded 'me  this  morning  I  have 
four  letters  to  write  and  therefore  must  be  brief.  I  have  got  the 
parcel  of  books  for  you.  Ed.  and  G.  brought  it  in  propriti  per- 
sond,  and  I  saw  them.  .  .  .  Next  day  Madame  herself  called,  very 
stately  m  her  carriage.  I  was  not  in,  and  the  next  day  came  a 
note  asking  me  to  dine  in  Cleveland  Row  on  Tuesday  next.  I 
declined  dinner,  but  promised  to  call  to-morrow  morning,  which 
D.v.  I  hope  to  do. 

Don't  you  think  you  have  been  shamefully  impatient  about 
Villettel  To-day  Is  the  first  day  of  publication,  but  the  gift 
copies  were  sent  off  yesterday,  yours  among  the  number,  and  I 
hope  you  have  got  it  by  this  time. 

If  all  be  well  I  go  home  on  Wednesday  next  without  fail.  I 
shall  reach  Kefghley  at  44  m.  past  3  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
and  I  want  you  to  meet  me  there,  and  then  we  can  go  home 
together.  You  must  be  so  kind,  dear  Nellys  to  write  directly 
and  tell  me  whether  this  arrangement  will  suit,  as  I  earnestly 
hope  ft  will,  as  I  should  wish  to  write^  line  of  notification  to 
Martha  that  she  may  be  prepared  witj^t  a  comfortable  welcome. 

My  visit  has  on  the  whole  pass§jk$leasantly  enough,  with  some 
sorrowful  impressions,  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  Sir  J.  K. 
Shuttleworth,  he  has  been  very  kind  ;  so  has  Dr.  Forbes,  and  indeed 
everybody.  But  I  must  stop.  Be  sure  to  write  immediately. 
Give  my  kind  love  to  all,  and  believe  me,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  613 

TO   MARTHA  BROWN 

GLOUCESTER  TERRACE, 

LONDON,  January  28^,  1855. 

DEAR  MARTHA, — If  all  be  well  I  hope  to  come  home  next 
Wednesday.  I  have  asked  Miss  Nussey  to  come  with  me.  We 
shall  reach  Haworth  about  half-past  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 


THE  LAST  NOVEL  307 

and  I  know  I  can  trust  you  to  have  things  comfortable  and  in 
readiness.  The  tablecloths  had  better  be  put  on  the  dining-room 
tables ;  you  will  have  something  prepared  that  will  do  for  supper 
— perhaps  a  nice  piece  of  cold  boiled  ham  would  be  as  well  as 
anything,  as  it  would  come  in  for  breakfast  in  the  morning.  The 
weather  has  been  very  changeable  here,  in  London.  I  have  often 
wondered  how  you  and  papa  stood  it  at  home ;  I  felt  the  changes 
In  some  degree,  but  not  half  so  much  as  I  should  have  done  at 
Haworth,  and  have  only  had  one  really  bad  day  of  headache  and 
sickness  since  I  came.  I  hope  you  and  Tabby  have  agreed  pretty 
well,  and  that  you  have  got  help  in  your  work  whenever  you  have 
wanted  it.  Remember  me  kindly  to  Tabby,  and  believe  me,  dear 
Martha,  your  sincere  friend,  C.  BRONTE, 

Letter  614 

TO   MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  February  nth>  1853, 

MY  DEAR  MISS  WOOLER, — Excuse  a  very  brief  note,  for  I  have 
time  only  to  thank  you  for  your  last  kind  and  welcome  letter, 
and  to  say  that  in  obedience  to  your  wishes,  I  send  you  by 
to-day's  post  two  reviews — the  Examiner  and  the  Morning 
Advertiser — which  perhaps  you  will  kindly  return  at  your  leisure. 
Ellen  has  a  third,  the  Literary  Gazette^  which  she  will  likewise 
send.  The  reception  of  the  book  has  been  favourable  thus  far, 
for  which  I  am  thankful,  less,  I  trust,  on  my  own  account  than 
for  the  sake  of  those  few  real  friends  who  take  so  sincere  an 
interest  in  my  welfare  as  to  be  happy  in  my  happiness.  Remem- 
ber me  very  kindly  to  all  at  Hornsea,  and  believe  me,  yours 
affectionately  and  respectfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  615 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  February  i$f%,  1853. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  you  got  home  all 
right,  and  that  you  managed  to  execute  your  commissions  in  Leeds 
so  satisfactorily.  You  do  not  say  whether  you  remembered  to 
order  the  Bishop's  dessert  I  shall  know,  however,  by  to-morrow 
morning.  You  had  a  very  tolerable  day  after  all  for  your  journey. 


308  THE  BRONTES 

I  got  a  budget  of  no  less  than  seven  papers  yesterday  and 
to-day.  The  Import  of  all  the  notices  is  such  as  to  make  my 
heart  swell  with  thankfulness  to  Him  who  takes  note  both  of 
suffering  and  work,  and  motives.  Papa  is  pleased  too.  As  to 
friends  in  general,  I  believe  I  can  love  them  still,  without  expect- 
ing them  to  take  any  large  share  in  this  sort  of  gratification.  The 
longer  I  live  the  more  plainly  I  see  that  gentle  must  be  the  strain, 
on  fragile  human  nature ;  it  will  not  bear  much. 

Give  my  kind  regards  to  your  mother,  sisters,  and  Mrs.  Clap- 
ham,  and  believe  me,  yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Papa  continues  to  improve;  he  came  down  to  breakfast  this 
morning. 

Letter  616 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

[Undated.] 

DEAR  NELL, — Forgive  a  mere  scrap  of  writing,  I  am  hurried. 
I  send  your  shoes  by  this  post.  Thanks  for  your  letter,  you  are 
right  to  go,  and  to  go  soon.  I  somehow  wish  you  to  get  it  over  ; 
I  hope  you  won't  be  very  long  away  this  time,  whatever  you 
eventually  decide  on.  I  am  not  sanguine.  If  your  affections- 
bind  or  incline  you  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Upjohn  you  ought  to  stay ; 
if  they  do  not,  I  know  from  your  nature  you  never  will  be  able 
to  get  on.  I  feel  certain  that  for  the  mere  prospect  of  c  future 
advantage'  you  could  no  more  live  with  them  than  I  could,  you 
will  see  how  it  is.  I  quite  anticipate  difficulties,  but  you  will  see 
I  wish  the  *  future  advantage '  were  more  defined ;  would  it  be  a 
legacy  of  -£40  or  ^50  per  ann.  or  what?  When  I  mentioned 
it  to  papa,  he  remarked  that  it  was  not  delicately  expressed.  I 
could  not  but  agree  in  this  remark.  He  seems,  however,  most 
specially  solicitous  that  you  should  try  the  adventure,  and  thinks 

unimportant  objections  ought  not  lightly  to  weigh  with  you. 

Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE! 

Letter  617 

TO   ELLEN  NUSSEY 

[Undated.] 

DEAR  ELLEN, — The  parcel  is  come,  and  the  contents  seem 
good  and  all  right.  I  enclose  6s.  6d.  in  postage  stamps.  Mrs. 
Upjohn  is  really  too  trying.  I  do  hope  before  this  time  you  have 


THE  LAST  NOVEL  309 

heard  from  her.  What  weather  for  you  to  travel  so  far!  Your 
crotchet  about  papa,  dear  Nell,  made  me  angry ;  never  was  fancy 
more  groundless. 

I  have  heard  from  Mrs.  Gaskell,  very  kind,  panegyrical  and  so 
on.  Mr.  Smith  tells  me  he  has  ascertained  that  Miss  Martineau 
did  write  the  notice  in  the  Daily  News. 

Joe  Taylor  offers  to  give  me  a  regular  blowing  up  and  setting- 
down  for  £5  ;  but  I  tell  him  the  Times  will  probably  let  me  have 
the  same  gratis.  I  write  in  haste  this  morning.  I  shall  be  anxious 
to  hear  from  you  again,  to  know  what  is  decided.  This  suspense, 
and  this  constant  change  of  plan  is  very  wearisome  and  wearing. 
Love  to  all — Yours  faithfully,  C  BRONTE. 

Letter  618 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

February  zis •/,  1853. 

DEAR  NELL, — The  accompanying  letter  was  brought  here  by 
the  post  this  morning,  with  the  explanation  that  it  was  left  last 
Tuesday,  February  iSth,  at  Hainworth  Vicarage  (the  church 
between  Keighley  and  Haworth),  and  that  Mrs.  Mayne,  the 
clergyman's  wife,  kept  it  there  till  this  day,  for  which  she 
deserves  the  ducking-stool.  She  must  have  known  that  Miss  E. 
Nussey  was  not  one  of  her  acquaintance.  I  do  trust  no  serious 
injury  will  accrue  from  the  delay. — Yours  in  haste, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  619 

TO  GEORGE  SMITH 

HAWORTH,  February  26^,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — At  a  late  hour  yesterday  evening  I  had  the 
honour  of  receiving,  at  Haworth  Parsonage,  a  distinguished  guest, 
none  other  than  W.  M.  Thackeray,  Esq.  Mindful  of  the  rites  of 
hospitality,  I  hung  him  up  in  state  this  morning.  He  looks 
superb  In  his  beautiful,  tasteful  gilded  gibbet  For  companion  he 
has  the  Duke  of  Wellington  (do  you  remember  giving  me  that 
picture?),  and  for  contrast  and  foil  Richmond's  portrait  of  an 
unworthy  individual  who,  in  such  society,  must  be  nameless.1 

1  Richmond's  picture  of  Miss  Bronte,  as  has  been  already  said,  is  now  in  the  National 
Portrait  Gallery,  London.  The  engravings  of  Thackeray  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
are  still  on  the  walls  of  Mrs.  Nicholas  drawing-room  in  Banagher,  King's  County, 
Ireland. 


310  THE  BRONTES 

Thackeray  looks  away  from  the  latter  character  with  a  grand 
scorn,  edifying  to  witness.  I  wonder  if  the  giver  of  these  gifts 
will  ever  see  them  on  the  walls  where  they  now  hang  ;  it  pleases 
me  to  fancy  that  one  day  he  may.  My  father  stood  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  this  morning  examining  the  great  man's  picture.  The 
conclusion  of  his  survey  was,  that  he  thought  it  a  puzzling  head  ; 
if  he  had  known  nothing  previously  of  the  original's  character, 
he  could  not  have  read  it  in  his  features.  I  wonder  at  this.  To 
me  the  broad  brow  seems  to  express  intellect.  Certain  lines 
about  the  nose  and  cheek  betray  the  satirist  and  cynic ;  the 
mouth  indicates  a  childlike  simplicity — perhaps  even  a  degree 
of  irresoluteness,  inconsistency — weakness,  in  short,  but  a  weak- 
ness not  unamiable.  The  engraving  seems  to  me  very  good.  A 
certain  not  quite  Christian  expression — *  not  to  put  too  fine  a 
point  upon  it' — an  expression  of  spite ',  most  vividly  marked  in 
the  original,  Is  here  softened,  and  perhaps  a  little — a  very  little — 
of  the  power  has  escaped  in  this  ameliorating  process.  Did  it 
strike  you  thus  ?  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  620 

TO   MRS.  GASKELL 

February — ,1853. 

For  my  part  I  have  thus  far  borne  the  cold  weather  well.  I 
have  taken  long  walks  on  the  crackling  snow,  and  felt  the  frosty 
air  bracing.  This  winter  has,  for  me,  not  been  like  last  winter. 
December,  January,  February  '51-2  passed  like  a  long  stormy 
night,  conscious  of  one  painful  dream,  all  solitary  grief  and  sick- 
ness. The  corresponding  months  in  '52-3  have  gone  over  my 
head  quietly  and  not  uncheerfully.  Thank  God  for  the  change 
and  the  repose!  How  welcome  it  has  been  He  only  knows f 
My  father,  too,  has  borne  the  season  well ;  and  my  book  and  its 
reception  thus  far  have  pleased  and  cheered  him. 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  621 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

March  tfh,  1853. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— I  return  Mrs.  Upjohn's  letter.  She  is  really  a 
most  inconclusive  person  to  have  to  do  with.  Have  you  come  to 


THE  LAST  NOVEL  311 

any  decision  yet?  The  Bishop1  has  been,  and  is  gone.  He 
is  certainly  a  most  charming  little  Bishop ;  the  most  benignant 
little  gentleman  that  ever  put  on  lawn  sleeves;  yet  stately 
too,  and  quite  competent  to  check  encroachments.  His  visit 
passed  capitally  well ;  and  at  its  close,  as  he  was  going  away,  he 
expressed  himself  thoroughly  gratified  with  all  he  had  seen. 
The  Inspector  also  has, been  in  the  course  of  the  past  week;  so 
that  I  have  had  a  somewhat  busy  time  of  it.  If  you  could  have 
been  at  Haworth  to  share  the  pleasures  of  the  company,  without 
having  been  inconvenienced  by  the  little  bustle  of  the  preparation, 
I  should  have  been  very  glad.  But  the  house  was  a  good  deal 
put  out  of  its  way,  as  you  may  suppose;  all  passed,  however, 
orderly,  quietly,  and  well.  Martha  waited  very  nicely,  and  I  had 
a  person  to  help  her  in  the  kitchen.  Papa  kept  up,  too,  fully  as 
well  as  I  expected,  though  I  doubt  whether  he  could  have  borne 
another  day  of  it.  My  penalty  came  on  in  a  strong  headache  and 
bilious  attack  as  soon  as  the  Bishop  was  fairly  gone:  how  thankful 
I  was  that  it  had  politely  waited  his  departure !  I  continue 
mighty  stupid  to-day  :  of  course,  it  is  the  reaction  consequent  on 
several  days  of  extra  exertion  and  excitement.  It  is  very  well  to 
talk  of  receiving  a  Bishop  without  trouble^  but  you  must  prepare  for 
him.  We  had  the  parsons  to  supper  as  well  as  to  tea.  Mr.  Nicholls 
demeaned  himself  not  quite  pleasantly.  I  thought  he  made  no 
effort  to  struggle  with  his  dejection,  but  gave  way  to  it  in  a  manner 
to  draw  notice;  the  Bishop  was  obviously  puzzled  by  it.  Mr. 
Nicholls  also  showed  temper  once  or  twice  in  speaking  to  papa, 
Martha  was  beginning  to  tell  me  of  certain  c  flaysome '  looks  also,, 
but  I  desired  not  to  hear  of  them.  The  fact  is,  I  shall  be  most 
thankful  when  he  is  well  away;  I  pity  him,  but  I  don't  like  that 
dark  gloom  of  his.  He  dogged  me  up  the  lane  after  the  evening 
service  in  no  pleasant  manner,  he  stopped  also  in  the  passage 
after  the  Bishop  and  the  other  clergy  were  gone  into  the  room, 
and  it  was  because  I  drew  away  and  went  upstairs  that  he  gave 
that  look  which  filled  Martha's  soul  with  horror.  She,  it  seems, 
meantime,  was  making  it  her  business  to  watch  him  from  the 
kitchen  door.  If  Mr.  Nicholls  be  a  good  man  at  bottom,  it  is  a 
sad  thing  that  nature  has  not  given  him  the  faculty  to  put  goodness 
Into  a  more  attractive  form.  Into  the  bargain  of  all  the  rest  he 

1  Dr.  Longley.  Charles  Thomas  Longley  (1794-1868)  became  the  first  Bishop  of 
Bipon  in  1836,  Bishop  of  Durham  in  1856,  Archbishop  of  York  in  1860,  and  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  in  1862. 


312  THE  BRONTES 

managed  to  get  up  a  most  pertinacious  and  needless  dispute  with 
the  Inspector,  in  listening  to  which  all  my  old  unfavourable  im- 
pressions revived  so  strongly,  I  fear  my  countenance  could  not  but 
show  them. 

Dear  Nell,  I  consider  that  on  the  whole  it  is  a  mercy  you  have 
been  at  home  and  not  at  Norfolk  during  the  late  cold  weather. 
Love  to  all  at  Brookroyd. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  622, 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  March  io//*,  '53. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  only  got  the  Guardian  newspaper  yesterday 
morning  and  have  not  yet  seen  either  the  Critic  or  Sharpens  Mag. 
The  Guardian  does  not  wound  me  much,  I  see  the  motive,  which 
indeed  there  is  no  attempt  to  disguise,  still  I  think  it  a  choice  little 
morsel  for  foes  (Mr.  Grant  was  the  first  person  to  bring  the  news 
of  the  review  to  papa),  and  a  still  choicer  for  f  friends '  who,  bless 
them!  while  they  would  not  perhaps  positively  do  one  an  injury, 
still  take  a  dear  delight  in  dashing  with  bitterness  the  too  sweet 
cup  of  success.  Is  Sharpens  small  article  like  a  bit  of  sugar-candy 
too,  Ellen?  or  has  it  the  proper  wholesome  wormwood  flavour? 

Of  course  I  guess  it  will  be  like  the  Guardian.  It  matters 
precious  little.  My  dear  '  friends '  will  weary  of  waiting  for  the 
Times.  '  O  Sisera !  why  tarry  the  wheels  of  thy  chariot  so  long ! ' 

How  is  your  sister  Ann  ?  In  a  note  I  had  from  Miss  Wooler 
lately,  she  mentions  that  Mrs.  Clapham  had  lately  been  ill,  con- 
fined to  her  bed.  As  your  last  makes  no  special  mention  of  her 
illness,  I  trust  she  is  now  better.  I  hope  Mercy  is  also  convalescent 
and  that  your  mother  is  pretty  well.  Give  my  love  to  them  all. 

Mrs.  Upjohn  is  really  a  strange  person,  but  I  begin  to  think 
that  when  you  actually  go  to  Gorleston,  you  will  find  her  better 
than  expectation,  she  cannot  be  much  worse. — I  am,  dear  Ellen, 
yours  faithfully,  Q  BRONTE, 

Letter  623 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  ^rt?6#&,  1853. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— I  return  Mrs.  Upjohn's  letter.  She  has  indeed 
acted  very  strangely,  but  it  is  evident  to  me  that  there  is  some- 


THE  LAST  NOVEL  313 

thing  very  wrong  either  in  herself,  her  husband,  or  her  domestic 
arrangements,  or  (what  is  perhaps  most  probable)  In  all  three,  and 
it  may  be  that  on  the  whole,  provoking  as  this  conclusion  appears, 
It  is  the  best  for  you  that  could  well  be  arrived  at.  The  grounds 
for  expecting  permanent  good  some  time  ago  assumed  a  very  un- 
substantial appearance ;  the  hope  of  present  pleasure,  I  fear,  would 
have  turned  out  equally  fallacious.  Indeed  I  now  feel  little  con- 
fidence in  either  comfort  or  credit  ensuing  from  the  connection  in 
any  shape. 

My  visit  to  Manchester  is  for  the  present  put  off  by  Mr.  Morgan 
having  written  to  say  that  since  papa  will  not  go  to  Buckingham 
to  see  him,  he  will  come  to  Yorkshire  to  see  papa  ;  when,  I  don't 
yet  know,  and  I  trust  in  goodness  he  will  not  stay  long,  as  papa 
really  cannot  bear  putting  out  of  his  way.  I  must  wait,  however, 
till  the  infliction  is  over. 

You  ask  about  Mr.  Nicholls.  I  hear  he  has  got  a  curacy,  but  do 
not  yet  know  where.  I  trust  the  news  is  true.  He  and  papa  never 
speak.  He  seems  to  pass  a  desolate  life.  He  has  allowed  late 
circumstances  so  to  act  on  him  as  to  freeze  up  his  manner  and 
.overcast  his  countenance  not  only  to  those  immediately  concerned 
but  to  every  one.  He  sits  drearily  in  his  rooms.  If  Mr.  Croxton  or 
Mr.  Grant,  or  any  other  clergyman  calls  to  see,  and  as  they  think, 
to  cheer  him,  he  scarcely  speaks.  I  find  he  tells  them  nothing,  seeks 
no  confidant,  rebuffs  all  attempts  to  penetrate  his  mind.  I  own  I 
respect  him  for  this.  He  still  lets  Flossy  go  to  his  rooms  and 
takes  him  to  walk.  He  still  goes  over  to  see  Mr.  Sowden  some- 
times, and,  poor  fellow,  that  is  all.  He  looks  ill  and  miserable.  I 
think  and  trust  in  Heaven  that  he  will  be  better  as  soon  as  he 
gets  away  from  Haworth.  I  pity  him  inexpressibly.  We  never 
meet  nor  speak,  nor  dare  I  look  at  him,  silent  pity  is  just  all  I  can 
give  him,  and  as  he  knows  nothing  about  that,  it  does  not  comfort. 
He  is  now  grown  so  gloomy  and  reserved,  that  nobody  seems  to 
like  him,  his  fellow-curates  shun  trouble  in  that  shape,  the  lower 
orders  dislike  it.  Papa  has  a  perfect  antipathy  to  him,  and  he,  I 
fear,  to  papa.  Martha  hates  him.  I  think  he  might  almost  be 
dying  and  they  would  not  speak  a  friendly  word  to  or  of  him. 
How  much  of  all  this  he  deserves  I  can't  tell,  certainly  he  never 
was  agreeable  or  amiable,  and  is  less  so  now  than  ever,  and  alas ! 
I  do  not  know  him  well  enough  to  be  sure  there  is  truth  and  true 
affection,  or  only  rancour  and  corroding  disappointment  at  the 
bottom  of  his  chagrin.  In  this  state  of  things  I  must  be,  and  I 


314  THE  BRONTES 

am,  entirely  passive.  I  may  be  losing  the  purest  gem,  and  to  me 
far  the  most  precious  life  can  give — genuine  attachment — or  I 
may  be  escaping  the  yoke  of  a  morose  temper.  In  this  doubt 
conscience  will  not  suffer  me  to  take  one  step  in  opposition  to 
papa's  will,  blended  as  that  will  is  with  the  most  bitter  and  un- 
reasonable prejudices.  So  I  just  leave  the  matter  where  we  must 
leave  all  important  matters. 

Remember  me  kindly  to  all  at  Brookroyd,  and  believe  rney 
yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  624 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

Tuesday  Morning. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Mrs.  Upjohn  really  carries  her  protractions  and 
vacillations  a  little  too  far,  and  I  am  truly  sorry  that  your  move- 
ments should  thus  inevitably  be  hampered  by  her  fluctuations. 
It  is  a  trial  of  Job  to  be  thus  moved  backward  and  forward  by  this 
most  luckless  of  mistresses  and  her  tribe  of  reprobate  servants. 

Thank  you  for  sending  Amelia's  notes ;  though  I  have  not 
alluded  to  them  lately  they  always  amuse  me.  I  like  to  read 
them  ;  one  gets  from  them  a  clear  enough  idea  of  her  sort  of  life. 
Joe's  attempts  to  improve  his  good  partner's  mind  make  me 
smile.  I  think  it  all  right  enough  and  doubt  not  they  are  happy 
in  their  way,  only  the  direction  he  gives  his  efforts  seems  of  rather 
problematic  wisdom — Algebra  and  Optics!  Why  not  rather 
enlarge  her  views  by  a  little  well-chosen  general  reading?  How- 
ever, they  do  right  to  amuse  themselves  in  their  own  way. 

The  rather  dark  view  you  seem  inclined  to  take  of  the  general 
opinion  about  Villette,  surprises  me  the  less,  dear  Nell,  as  only  the 
more  unfavourable  reviews  seem  to  have  come  in  your  way.  Some 
reports  reach  me  of  a  different  tendency :  but  no  matter,  time  will 
show.  As  to  the  character  of  Lucy  Snowe,  my  intention  from  the 
first  was  that  she  should  not  occupy  the  pedestal  to  which  Jane  Eyre 
was  raised  by  some  injudicious  admirers.  She  is  where  I  meant 
her  to  be,  and  where  no  charge  of  self-laudation  can  touch  her.1 

I  cannot  accept  your  kind  invitation.  I,  must  be  at  home  at 
Easter,  on  two  or  three  accounts  connected  with  sermons  to  be 
preached,  parsons  to  be  entertained,  Mechanics1  Institute  Meetings 

i  This  sentence  Mrs.  Gaskell  inserts,  by  mistake,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  W,  S.  Williams* 
It  is  here  given  in  its  right  place. 


THE  LAST  NOVEL  315 

and  Tea-drinkings  to  be  solemnised,  and  ere  long  I  have  promised 
to  go  and  see  Mrs.  Gaskell,  but  till  this  wintry  weather  is  passed 
I  would  rather  eschew  visiting  anywhere,  I  trust  that  bad  cold 
of  yours  is  quite  well,  and  that  you  will  take  good  care  of  yourself 
in  future.  That  night  work  is  always  perilous. — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  625 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  have  the  pleasure  of  forwarding  you  a  racy 
review  in  the  Morning  Herald,  When  read,  be  so  good  as  to 
send  the  paper  to  Hunsworth,  whence  it  came. — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  626 

TO   MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  April  13^,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  MlSS  WOOLER, — Your  last  kind  letter  ought  to  have 
been  answered  long  since,  and  would  have  been,  did  I  find  it 
practicable  to  proportion  the  promptitude  of  the  response  to  the 
value  I  place  upon  my  correspondents  and  their  communications. 
You  will  easily  understand,  however,  that  the  contrary  rule  often 
holds  good,  and  that  the  epistle  which  importunes  often  takes 
precedence  of  that  which  interests. 

My  publishers  express  entire  satisfaction  with  the  reception 
which  has  been  accorded  to  Villette>  and  indeed  the  majority  of 
the  reviews  has  been  favourable  enough ;  you  will  be  aware, 
however,  that  there  is  a  minority,  small  in  number  but  influential 
in  character,  which  views  the  work  with  no  favourable  eye. 
Currer  Bell's  remarks  on  Romanism  have  drawn  down  on  him 
the  condign  displeasure  of  the  High  Church  party,  which  dis- 
pleasure has  been  unequivocally  expressed  through  their  principal 
organs — the  Guardian,  the  English  Churchman^  and  the  Christian 
Remembrancer.  I  can  well  understand  that  some  of  the  charges 
launched  against  me  by  those  publications  will  tell  heavily  to  my 
prejudice  in  the  minds  of  most  readers- — but  this  must  be  borne ; 
and  for  my  part,  I  can  suffer  no  accusation  to  oppress  me  much 
which  is  not  supported  by  the  inward  evidence  of  conscience  and 
reason. 


S16  THE  BRONTES 

'  Extremes  meet/  says  the  proverb ;  in  proof  wnereof  I  would 
mention  that  Miss  Martineau  finds  with  Villette  nearly  the  same 
fault  as  the  Puseyites.  She  accuses  me  with  attacking  popery 
'with  virulence,5  of  going  out  of  my  way  to  assault  it  'passion- 
ately/ In  other  respects  she  has  shown  with  reference  to  the 
work  a  spirit  so  strangely  and  unexpectedly  acrimonious,  that 
I  have  gathered  courage  to  tell  her  that  the  gulf  of  mutual 
difference  between  her  and  me  is  so  wide  and  deep,  the  bridge  of 
union  so  slight  and  uncertain,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
frequent  intercourse  would  be  most  perilous  and  unadvisable,  and 
have  begged  to  adjourn  sine  die  my  long  projected  visit  to  her. 
Of  course  she  is  now  very  angry,  and  I  know  her  bitterness  will 
not  be  short-lived — but  it  cannot  be  helped. 

Two  or  three  weeks  since  I  received  a  long  and  kind  letter 
from  Mr.  White,  which  I  answered  a  short  time  ago.  I  believe 
Mr.  White  thinks  me  a  much  hotter  advocate  for  change  and 
what  is  called  £  political  progress '  than  I  am.  However,  in  my 
reply,  I  did  not  touch  on  these  subjects.  He  intimated  a  wish  to 
publish  some  of  his  own  MSS.  I  fear  he  would  hardly  like  the 
somewhat  dissuasive  tendency  of  my  answer ;  but  really,  in  these 
days  of  headlong  competition,  it  is  a  great  risk  to  publish.  If  all 
be  well,  I  purpose  going  to  Manchester  next  week  to  spend  a  few 
days  with  Mrs.  Gaskell.  Ellen's  visit  to  Yarmouth  seems  for  the 
present  given  up ;  and  really,  all  things  considered,  I  think  the 
circumstance  is  scarcely  to  be  regretted. 

Do  you  not  think,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  that  you  could  come 
to  Haworth before  you  go  to  the  coast?  I  am  afraid  that  when 
you  once  get  settled  at  the  seaside  your  stay  will  not  be  brief. 
I  must  repeat  that  a  visit  from  you  would  be  anticipated  with 
pleasure,  not  only  by  me,  but  by  every  inmate  of  Haworth 
Parsonage.  Papa  has  given  me  a  general  commission  to  send 
his  respects  to  you  whenever  I  write — accept  them,  therefore,  and 
— Believe  me,  yours  affectionately  and  sincerely, 

C.  BRONTE, 

Letter  627 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Were  a  review  to  appear,  inspired  with  treble 
their  animus, pray  do  not  withhold  it  from  me.  I  like  to  see  the 
satisfactory  notices — especially  I  like  to  carry  them  to  my  father 


THE  LAST  NOVEL  317 

— but  I  must  see  such  as  are  ^satisfactory  and  hostile ;  these 
are  for  my  own  especial  edification ;  it  is  in  these  I  best  read 
public  feeling"  and  opinion.  To  shun  examination  into  the 
dangerous  and  disagreeable  seems  to  me  cowardly.  I  long 
always  to  know  what  really  zV,  and  am  only  unnerved  when  kept 
in  the  dark.  .  .  . 

The  note  you  sent  this  morning  from  Lady  Harriet  St.  Clair1 
is  precisely  to  the  same  purport  as  Miss  Mulock's  2  request — an 
application  for  exact  and  authentic  information  respecting  the 
fate  of  M.  Paul  Emanuel !  You  see  how  much  the  ladies  think 
of  this  little  man,  whom  you  none  of  you  like.  I  had  a  letter  the 
other  day  announcing  that  a  lady  of  some  note,  who  had  always 
determined  that  whenever  she  married  her  husband  should  be 
the  counterpart  of  '  Mr.  Knightley '  in  Miss  Austen's  Emma>  had 
now  changed  her  mind,  and  vowed  that  she  would  either  find  the 
duplicate  of  Professor  Emanuel  or  remain  for  ever  single!  I 
have  sent  Lady  Harriet  an  answer  so  worded  as  to  leave  the 
matter  pretty  much  where  it  was.  Since  the  little  puzzle  amuses 
the  ladies,  it  would  be  a  pity  to  spoil  their  sport  by  giving  them 
the  key. 

Letter  628 

TO  MRS.  GASKELL,  MANCHESTER 

HAWORTH,  April  14^,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  GASKELL, — Would  it  suit  you  if  I  were  to  come 
next  Thursday,  the  2ist? 

If  that  day  tallies  with  your  convenience,  and  if  my  father 
continues  as  well  as  he  is  now,  I  know  of  no  engagement  on 
my  part  which  need  compel  me  longer  to  defer  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you. 

I  should  arrive  by  the  train  which  reaches  Manchester  at 
7  o'clock  P.M.  That,  I  think,  would  be  about  your  tea-time,  and, 
of  course,  I  should  dine  before  leaving  home.  I  always  like 
evening  for  an  arrival ;  it  seems  more  cosy  and  pleasant  than 
coming  in  about  the  busy  middle  of  the  day.  I  think  if  I  stay 

1  Lady  Harriet  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  the  third  Earl  of  Rosslyn,  and  sister  of  the 
poet.     She  married  Count  Miinster,  German  Ambassador  to  the  Court  of  St.  James's, 
and  died  in  1867. 

2  Dinah  Maria  Mulock,  Mrs.  Craik  (1826-1887),  author  of  John  Halifax?  Gentleman. 


318  THE  BRONTES 

a  week  that  will  be  a  very  long  visit ;  it  will  give  you  time  to  get 
well  tired  of  me. 

Remember  me  very  kindly  to  Mr.  Gaskell  and  Marianne.  As 
to  Mesdames  Flossy  and  Julia,  those  venerable  ladies  are  requested 
beforehand  to  make  due  allowance  for  the  awe  with  which  they 
will  be  sure  to  impress  a  diffident  admirer.  I  am  sorry  I  shall 
not  see  Meta. — Believe  me  my  dear  Mrs.  Gaskell,  yours 
affectionately  and  sincerely  C.  BRONTE. 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MUS.  GASKELL    319 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

FRIENDSHIP   WITH   MRS.    GASKELL 

THE  friendship  of  Elizabeth  Gaskell  and  Charlotte  Bronte 
was  destined  to  be  brief,  but  it  seems  to  have  been  of  the 
most  genuine  character.  Never,  anywhere,  do  we  find  a 
single  jarring  note.  Mrs.  Gaskell  gave  a  whole-hearted 
admiration  to  the  novels  of  her  friend,  and  Miss  Bronte 
keenly  enjoyed  Mary  Barton,  Cranford,  and  Ruth,  the 
three  important  books  by  Mrs.  Gaskell  that  were  written 
before  Charlotte  Bronte's  death.  Mrs.  Gaskell  has  of 
late  obtained  a  far  greater  reputation  in  literature  than 
could  have  been  anticipated  by  her  contemporaries,1  and 
it  is  pleasant  to  be  able  to  bind  together  the  two  names 
in  this  correspondence.  The  house  at  Plymouth  Grove,  in 
a  suburb  of  Manchester,  stands  to-day  very  much  as  it  did 
when  Miss  Bronte  visited  it,  and  indeed  is  still  occupied 
by  two  daughters  of  Mrs.  Gaskell,  whose  devotion  to  their 
mother's  memory  is  very  beautiful. 

Letter  629 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  Jprti  i8/^,  '53. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — It  seems  they  are  in  great  trouble  again  at 
Hunsworth ;  I  have  had  two  or  three  notes  from  Amelia  giving 
sad  accounts  of  little  Tim.  Do  you  know  anything  certain  on  the 
subject?  Amelia's  communications  as  usual  seem  a  good  deal 

1  One  complete  edition  of  her  Works >  edited  by  Dr.  A.  W.  Ward,  was  issued  in  1906 
by  Smith,  Elder  &  Co.;  and  another,  published  by  Henry  Frowde  in  the  s World's 
Classics,'  is  in  progress. 


820  THE  BRONTES 

coloured  by  alarm,  natural  enough  no  doubt  under  the  circum- 
stances, but  still  involving  inconsistencies  of  statement  which 
leave  one  somewhat  in  the  dark.  Symptoms  seern  attributed  to 
the  poor  child  which  would  indicate  scarlet  fever,  brain  fever,  and 
croup  all  in  one.  The  parents  watch  all  night,  the  doctor  stays 
till  12  o'clock.  Still  I  hope  Tim  will  get  through  it. 

You  seem  quite  gay  at  Brookroyd.  I  hope  you  continue  well 
and  hearty  through  all  your  visiting,  and  indeed,  I  think  the  variety 
quite  advisable,  provided  you  keep  duly  on  your  guard  against 
the  night-air. 

If  all  be  well,  I  think  of  going  to  Manchester  about  the  close  of 
this  week  I  only  intend  staying  a  few  days,  but  I  can  say 
nothing  about  coming  back  by  way  of  Brookroyd.  Do  not  expect 
me  ;  I  would  rather  see  you  at  Haworth  by-and-by. 

Two  or  three  weeks  since  Miss  Martineau  wrote  to  ask  why 
she  did  not  hear  from  me,  and  to  press  me  to  go  to  Ambleside. 
Explanations  ensued,  the  notes  on  each  side  were  quite  civil,  but 
having  deliberately  formed  my  resolution  on  substantial  grounds, 
I  adhered  to  it.  I  have  declined  being  her  visitor,  and  bid  her 
good-bye.  Of  course  some  bitterness  remains  in  her  heart.  It  is 
best  so,  however ;  the  antagonism  of  our  natures  and  principles 
was  too  serious  a  thing  to  be  trifled  with. 

I  have  no  news  for  you :  things  at  Haworth  are  as  they  were. 
Remember  me  kindly  to  all  at  Brookroyd,  and  believe  me,  yours 
faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Mr.  M.  did  not  come ;  and  if  he  had,  the  subject  you  mention 
would  not  have  been  touched  on.  Papa  alludes  to  it  to  nobody ; 
he  calls  it c  degrading*  and  would  not  have  it  hinted  at  or  known. 
This  circumstance  serves  as  a  tolerably  pointed  illustration  of  his 
painful  way  of  viewing  the  matter. 

Mrs.  Gaskell's  address  is  Plymouth  Grove,  Manchester. 

Letter  630 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

PLYMOUTH  GROVE, 
MANCHESTER,  April  zyd,  1853. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  came  here  yesterday,  and  found  your  letter. 
There  is  something  in  its  tone  which  makes  me  apprehend  that 
you  are  rather  low  spirited,  so  that  I  shall  manage  to  do  as  you 


jrvnt  a. 

cfa trick-  zSranwell 

frcm  a  me& 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MRS.  GASKELL     321 

wish  and  return  by  Birstall.  I  expect  to  leave  here  next 
Thursday,  and  return  home  on  Saturday,  but  I  will  write  again, 
D.V.,  before  Thursday. 

I  only  scratch  this  hasty  line  now  to  give  you  an  idea  of  my 
movements.  With  kind  regards  to  all  at  Brookroyd,  and  best 
birthday  wishes  to  yourself,  I  am,  dear  Ellen,  yours  faithfully, 

C  BRONT£. 

Mrs.  Gaskell  thus  records  her  Impression  of  this  visit : — 

She  came,  at  the  close  of  April,  to  visit  us  in  Manchester.     We 
had    a   friend,   a  young    lady,  staying  with   us.     Miss    Mrs 
Bronte  had  expected  to  find  us  alone ;  and  although  our    GaskeiTs 
friend  was  gentle  and  sensible  after  Miss  Bronte's  own    Narrative. 
heart,  yet  her  presence  was  enough  to  create  a  nervous  tremor. 
I  was  aware  that  both  of  our  guests  were  unusually  silent ;  and  I 
saw  a  little  shiver  run  from  time  to  time  over  Miss  Bronte's  frame. 
I  could  account  for  the  modest  reserve  of  the  young  lady  ;  and 
the  next  day  Miss  Bronte  told  me  how  the  unexpected  sight  of  a 
strange  face  had  affected  her. 

It  was  now  two  or  three  years  since  I  had  witnessed  a  similar 
effect  produced  on  her,  in  anticipation  of  a  quiet  evening  at  Fox 
How ;  and  since  then  she  had  seen  many  and  various  people  in 
London  :  but  the  physical  sensations  produced  by  shyness  were 
still  the  same ;  and  on  the  following  day  she  laboured  under 
severe  headache.  I  had  several  opportunities  of  perceiving  how 
this  nervousness  was  Ingrained  in  her  constitution,  and  how 
acutely  she  suffered  in  striving  to  overcome  it.  One  evening  we 
had,  among  other  guests,  two  sisters  who  sang  Scottish  ballads 
exquisitely.  Miss  Bronte  had  been  sitting  quiet  and  constrained  till 
they  began  c  The  Bonnie  House  of  Airlie/  but  the  effect  of  that  and 
<  Carlisle  Yetts,'  which  followed,  was  as  irresistible  as  the  playing 
of  the  Piper  of  Hamelin.  The  beautiful  clear  light  came  Into  her 
eyes  ;  her  lips  quivered  with  emotion  ;  she  forgot  herself,  rose,  and 
crossed  the  room  to  the  piano,  where  she  asked  eagerly  for  song 
after  song.  The  sisters  begged  her  to  come  and  see  them  the 
next  morning,  when  they  would  sing  as  long  as  ever  she  liked ; 
and  she  promised  gladly  and  thankfully.  But  on  reaching  the 
house  her  courage  failed.  We  walked  some  time  up  and  down 
the  street ;  she  upbraiding  herself  all  the  while  for  folly,  and 
trying  to  dwell  on  the  sweet  echoes  In  her  memory  rather  than 
on  the  thought  of  a  third  sister  who  would  have  to  be  faced  if  we 

VOX,,  H.  X 


322  THE  BRONTES 

went  in.     But  it  was  of  no  use  ;  and  dreading  lest  this  struggle 
with  herself  might  bring  on  one  of  her  trying  headaches,  I  entered 
at  last  and  made  the  best  apology  I  could  for  her  non-appearance. 
Much  of  this  nervous  dread  of  encountering  strangers  I  ascribed 
to  the  idea  of  her  personal  ugliness,  which  had   been  strongly 
impressed  upon  her  imagination  early  in  life,  and  which  she  ex- 
aggerated  to  herself  in  a  remarkable  manner.     *  I   notice/  said 
she, f  that  after  a  stranger  has  once  looked  at  my  face  he  is  careful 
not  to  let  his  eyes  wander  to  that  part  of  the  room   again  ! '     A 
more   untrue  idea  never  entered   into   any   one's   head.      Two 
gentlemen  who  saw  her  during  this  visit,  without  knowing  at  the 
time  who  she  was,  were  singularly  attracted  by  her  appearance  ; 
and   this  feeling  of  attraction  towards  a  pleasant  countenance, 
sweet  voice,  and  gentle  timid  manners  was  so  strong  in  one  as  to 
conquer  a  dislike  he  had  previously  entertained  to  her  works. 

There  was  another  circumstance  that  came  to  my  knowledge 
at  this  period  which  told  secrets  about  the  finely  strung  frame. 
One  night  I  was  on  the  point  of  relating  some  dismal  ghost  story, 
just  before  bedtime.  She  shrank  from  hearing  it,  and  confessed 
that  she  was  superstitious,  and  prone  at  all  times  to  the  involun- 
tary recurrence  of  any  thoughts  of  ominous  gloom  which  might 
have  been  suggested  to  her.  She  said  that  on  first  coming  to  us 
she  had  found  a  letter  on  her  dressing-table  from  a  friend  In 
Yorkshire,  containing  a  story  which  had  impressed  her  vividly 
ever  since — that  it  mingled  with  her  dreams  at  night  and  made 
her  sleep  restless  and  unrefreshing. 

One  day  we  asked  two  gentlemen  to  meet  her  at  dinner,  expect- 
ing that  she  and  they  would  have  a  mutual  pleasure  in  making 
each  other's  aquaintance.  To  our  disappointment  she  drew  back 
with  timid  reserve  from  all  their  advances,  replying  to  their  ques- 
tions and  remarks  in  the  briefest  manner  possible,  till  at  last  they 
gave  up  their  efforts  to  draw  her  into  conversation  in  despair,  and 
talked  to  each  other  and  my  husband  on  subjects  of  recent  local 
interest  Among  these  Thackeray's  Lectures  (which  had  lately 
been  delivered  in  Manchester)  were  spoken  of,  and  that  on  Fielding 
especially  dwelt  upon.  One  gentleman  objected  to  it  strongly 
as  calculated  to  do  moral  harm,  and  regretted  that  a  man 
having  so  great  an  influence  over  the  tone  of  thought  of  the  day 
as  Thackeray  should  not  more  carefully  weigh  his  words.  The 
other  took  the  opposite  view.  He  said  that  Thackeray  described 
men  from  the  inside,  as  it  were ;  through  his  strong  power  of 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MRS.  GASKELL    323 

dramatic  sympathy  he  identified  himself  with  certain  characters, 
felt  their  temptations,  entered  into  their  pleasures,  etc.  This 
roused  Miss  Bronte,  who  threw  herself  warmly  into  the  discussion; 
the  ice  of  her  reserve  was  broken,  and  from  that  time  she  showed 
her  interest  in  all  that  was  said,  and  contributed  her  share  to  any 
conversation  that  was  going  on  in  the  course  of  the  evening.1 


Letter  631 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

April  26th,  1853. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  hope  to  reach  Birstall  on  Thursday  at  5 
o'clock,  if  all  be  well,  and  stay  till  Saturday  or  Monday,  as  we 
shall  decide  when  we  meet  I  have  had  a  very  pleasant  visit 
here,  but  we  can  chat  about  it  anon.  I  have  only  just  time  to 
pen  this  notification.  Kind  regards. — I  am,  yours  faithfully, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  632 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

May  r6/>fc,  1853. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Habituated  by  this  time  to  Mrs.  Upjohn's 
fluctuations,  I  received  the  news  of  this  fresh  put  off  without 
the  slightest  sentiment  of  wonder.  Indeed,  I  keep  all  my  powers 
of  surprise  for  the  intelligence  that  you  are  safely  arrived  at 
Gorleston,  and  still  more  for  the  desired  but  very  moderately 
expected  tidings  that  you  are  happy  there. 

The  east  winds  about  which  you  inquire  have  spared  me 
wonderfully  till  to-day,  when  I  feel  somewhat  sick  physically, 
and  not  very  blithe  mentally.  I  am  not  sure  that  the  east  winds 
are  entirely  to  blame  for  this  ailment  Yesterday  was  a  strange 
sort  of  a  day  at  church.  It  seems  as  if  I  were  to  be  punished  for  my 
doubts  about  the  nature  and  truth  of  poor  Mr.  Nicholls's  regard. 
Having  ventured  on  Whit-Sunday  to  stop  to  the  sacrament,  I  got 
a  lesson  not  to  be  repeated.  He  struggled,  faltered,  then  lost 
command  over  himself,  stood  before  my  eyes  and  in  the  sight  of 
all  the  communicants,  white,  shaking,  voiceless.  Papa  was  not 
there,  thank  God !  Joseph  Redman  spoke  some  words  to  him. 
He  made  a  great  effort,  but  could  only  with  difficulty  whisper  and 

1  life  of  Charlotte  Bronte,  Haworth  edition,  pp.  607-9. 


324  THE  BRONTES 

falter  through  the  service.  I  suppose  he  thought  this  would  be 
the  last  time  ;  he  goes  either  this  week  or  the  next.  I  heard  the 
women  sobbing  round,  and  I  could  not  quite  check  my  own  tears. 
What  had  happened  was  reported  to  papa  either  by  Joseph 
Redman  or  John  Brown  ;  it  excited  only  anger,  and  such  expres- 
sions as  'unmanly  driveller.'  Compassion  or  relenting  is  no 
more  to  be  looked  for  than  sap  from  firewood. 

I  never  saw  a  battle  more  sternly  fought  with  the  feelings  than 
Mr.  Nicholls  fights  with  his,  and  when  he  yields  momentarily,  you 
are  almost  sickened  by  the  sense  of  the  strain  upon  him.  However 
he  is  to  go,  and  I  cannot  speak  to  him  or  look  at  him  or  comfort 
him  a  whit,  and  I  must  submit.  Providence  is  over  all,  that  is 
the  only  consolation. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  633 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  May  igth,  1853. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — It  is  almost  a  relief  to  hear  that  you  only  think 
of  staying  at  Yarmouth  a  month,  though  of  course  one  must  not 
be  selfish  in  wishing  you  to  come  home  soon,  and  you  will  be 
guided  m  vour  final  decision  bv  the  state  of  things  as  you  find  it 
at  Mrs.  Upjohn's.  There  cannot,  I  think,  be  any  disappointment 
in  the  business.  I  really  do  hope  causes  may  be  discovered  of 
agreeable  surprise.  At  any  rate  for  a  month  you  surely  may  be 
made  comfortable,  unless  the  house  be  really  haunted,  as  Mr. 
Clapham  supposed. 

You  do  not  mention  how  you  got  on  on  Whit-Tuesday.  Tell 
me  when  you  write  again. 

I  cannot  help  feeling  a  certain  satisfaction  in  finding  that  the 
people  here  are  getting  up  a  subscription  to  offer  a  testimonial  of 
respect  to  Mr.  Nicholls  on  his  leaving  the  place.1  Many  are 
expressing  both  their  commiseration  and  esteem  for  him.  The 
Churchwardens  recently  put  the  question  to  him  plainly.  Why 
was  he  going?  Was  it  Mr.  Bronte's  fault  or  his  own  ?  *  His  own/ 
he  answered.  Did  he  blame  Mr.  Bronte?  cNo!  he  did  not:  if 

1  It  took  the  form  of  a  gold  watch,  which  Mr.  Nicholls  showed  me  with  natural 
pride,  forty  years  later,  while  walking  over  his  farm  at  Banagher.  The  following  inscrip- 
tion was  engraved  upon  it  :— 'Presented  to  the  Rev.  A.  B.  Nicholls,  B.A.,  by  the 
teachers,  scholars,  and  congregation  of  St.  Michael's,  Haworth,  Yorkshire,  May  25, 
1853.' 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MRS.  GASKELL    325 

anybody  was  wrong  it  was  himself.'  Was  he  willing  to  go  ?  '  No ! 
it  gave  him  great  pain.'  Yet  he  is  not  always  right.  I  must  be 
just.  He  shows  a  curious  mixture  of  honour  and  obstinacy; 
feeling  and  sullenness.  Papa  addressed  him  at  the  school  tea- 
drinking,  with  constrained  civility,  but  still  with  civility.  He  did 
not  reply  civilly ;  he  cut  short  further  words.  This  sort  of  treat- 
ment offered  in  public  is  what  papa  never  will  forget  or  forgive 
it  inspires  him  with  a  silent  bitterness  not  to  be  expressed.  I  am 
afraid  both  are  unchristian  in  their  mutual  feelings.  Nor  do  I 
know  which  of  them  is  least  accessible  to  reason  or  least  likely  to 
forgive.  It  is  a  dismal  state  of  things. 

The  weather  is  fine  now,  dear  Nell.  We  will  take  these  sunny 
days  as  a  good  omen  for  your  visit  to  Yarmouth.  With  kind 
regards  to  all  at  Brookroyd,  and  best  wishes  to  yourself. — I  am, 
yours  sincerely,  C  BRONTE. 

If  you  have  time  before  you  go,  I  wish  you  would  get  me  I  Ib. 
of  plain  biscuits  like  those  you  had  at  Brookroyd,  and  \  Ib.  of 
invalid  biscuits,  and  send  them  per  rail.  I  can  pay  for  them  in 
postage  stamps.  They  are  things  I  cannot  get  here,  nor  good,  at 
Keighley, 

Letter  634 

TO   MRS.  GASKELL 

HAWORTH,  May  — ,  1853. 

The  Lectures  arrived  safely ;  I  have  read  them  through  twice. 
They  must  be  studied  to  be  appreciated.  I  thought  well  of  them 
when  I  heard  them  delivered,  but  now  I  see  their  real  power,  and 
it  is  great.  The  lecture  on  Swift  was  new  to  me ;  I  thought  it 
almost  matchless.  Not  that  by  any  means  I  always  agree  with 
Mr.  Thackeray's  opinions,  but  his  force,  his  penetration,  his  pithy 
simplicity,  his  eloquence — his  manly,  sonorous  eloquence — 
command  entire  admiration.  .  .  .  Against  his  errors  I  protest, 
were  it  treason  to  do  so.  I  was  present  at  the  Fielding  lecture: 
the  hour  spent  in  listening  to  it  was  a  painful  hour.  That 
Thackeray  was  wrong  in  his  way  of  treating  Fielding's  character 
and  vices  my  conscience  told  me.  After  reading  that  lecture  I 
trebly  felt  that  he  was  wrong — dangerously  wrong.  Had 
Thackeray  owned  a  son,  grown  or  growing  up,  and  a  son  brilliant 
but  reckless — would  he  have  spoken  in  that  light  way  of  courses 


326  THE  BRONTES 

that  lead  to  disgrace  and  the  grave?  He  speaks  of  it  all  as  if  he 
theorised  ;  as  if  he  had  never  been  called  on,  in  the  course  of  his 
life,  to  witness  the  actual  consequences  of  such  failings  ;  as  if  he 
had  never  stood  by  and  seen  the  issue,  the  final  result  of  it  all 
I  believe,  if  only  once  the  prospect  of  a  promising  life  blasted  at 
the  outset  by  wild  ways  had  passed  close  under  his  eyes,  he  never 
could  have  spoken  with  such  levity  of  what  led  to  its  piteous 
destruction.  Had  I  a  brother  yet  living,  I  should  tremble  to  let 
him  read  Thackeray's  lecture  on  Fielding.  I  should  hide  it  away 
from  him.  If,  in  spite  of  precaution,  it  should  fall  into  his  hands, 
I  should  earnestly  pray  him  not  to  be  misled  by  the  voice  of  the 
charmer,  let  him  charm  never  so  wisely.  Not  that  for  a  moment 
I  would  have  had  Thackeray  to  abuse  Fielding,  or  even  pharisai- 
cally to  condemn  his  life ;  but  I  do  most  deeply  grieve  that  it 
never  entered  into  his  heart  sadly  and  nearly  to  feel  the  peril  of 
such  a  career,  that  he  might  have  dedicated  some  of  his  great 
strength  to  a  potent  warning  against  its  adoption  by  any  young 
man.  I  believe  temptation  often  assails  the  finest  manly  natures, 
as  the  pecking  sparrow  or  destructive  wasp  attacks  the  sweetest 
and  mellowest  fruit,  eschewing  what  is  sour  and  crude.  The  true 
lover  of  his  race  ought  to  devote  his  vigour  to  guard  and  protect ; 
he  should  sweep  away  every  lure  with  a  kind  of  rage  at  its 
treachery.  You  will  think  this  far  too  serious,  I  dare  say ;  but 
the  subject  is  serious,  and  one  cannot  help  feeling  upon  it 
earnestly.  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  635 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  May  27^,  1853 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  was  right  glad  to  get  your  letter  this  morn- 
ing and  to  find  that  you  really  were  safely  arrived  at  last.  How 
strange  it  seems  though  that  there  should  have  been  a  sort  of  mis- 
calculation up  to  the  very  last !  I  am  afraid  you  would  feel  a  little 
damped  on  your  arrival  to  find  Mrs.  Upjohn  from  home.  How- 
ever, I  do  think  it  is  well  you  are  gone,  the  experiment  was  worth 
trying,  and  according  to  present  appearances  really  promises 
very  fairly.  If  tempers,  etc.,  are  only  right,  there  seem  to  be  many 
other  appliances  and  means  for  enjoyment.  I  do  not  much  like 
to  hear  of  that  supposed  affection  of  the  brain.  If  there  be  any 
thing  wrong  there,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  with  time  it  will  rather 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MUS.  GASKELL    327 

increase  than  diminish  ;  however  let  us  hope  for  the  best.     I  trust 
Mr.  Upjohn  may  prove  a  pleasant,  well-informed  companion. 

The  biscuits  came  all  right,  but  I  believe  you  have  sent  about 
twice  the  quantity  I  ordered.  You  must  tell  me  how  much  they 
cost,  dear  Nell,  or  I  shall  never  be  able  to  ask  you  to  render  me  a 
similar  service  again. 

I  send  by  this  post  the  Examiner  and  French  paper.  I  suppose 
I  had  better  suppress  the  Leader  while  you  are  at  Gorleston.  I 
don't  think  it  would  suit  Mr.  Upjohn. 

You  will  want  to  know  about  the  leave-taking ;  the  whole  matter 
is  but  a  painful  subject,  but  I  must  treat  it  briefly.  The  testi- 
monial was  presented  in  a  public  meeting.  Mr.  T.  and  Mr.  Grant 
were  there.  Papa  was  not  very  well  and  I  advised  him  to  stay 
away,  which  he  did.  As  to  the  last  Sunday,  it  was  a  cruel 
struggle.  Mr.  Nicholls  ought  not  to  have  had  to  take  any  duty. 

He  left  Haworth  this  morning  at  6  o'clock,  Yesterday  evening 
he  called  to  render  into  papa's  hands  the  deeds  of  the  National 
School,  and  to  say  good-bye.  They  were  busy  cleaning,  washing 
the  paint,  etc.,  in  the  dining-room,  so  he  did  not  find  me  there.  I 
would  not  go  into  the  parlour  to  speak  to  him  in  papa's  presence. 
He  went  out  thinking  he  was  not  to  see  me,  and  indeed,  till  the 
very  last  moment,  I  thought  it  best  not.  But  perceiving  that  he 
stayed  long  before  going  out  at  the  gate,  and  remembering  his 
long  grief,  I  took  courage  and  went  out  trembling  and  miserable. 
I  found  him  leaning  against  the  garden  door  in  a  paroxysm  of 
anguish,  sobbing  as  women  never  sob.  Of  course  I  went  straight 
to  him.  Very  few  words  were  interchanged,  those  few  barely 
articulate.  Several  things  I  should  have  liked  to  ask  him  were 
swept  entirely  from  my  memory.  Poor  fellow !  But  he  wanted 
such  hope  and  such  encouragement  as  I  could  not  give  him.  Still 
I  trust  he  must  know  now  that  I  am  not  cruelly  blind  and  indif- 
ferent to  his  constancy  and  grief.  For  a  few  weeks  he  goes  to 
the  South  of  England,  afterwards  he  takes  a  curacy  somewhere  in 
Yorkshire,  but  I  don't  know  where. 

Papa  has  been  far  from  strong  lately.  I  dare  not  mention  Mr. 
Nicholls's  name  to  him.  He  speaks  of  him  quietly  and  without 
opprobrium  to  others,  but  to  me  he  is  implacable  on  the  matter. 
However,  he  is  gone — gone — and  there 's  an  end  of  it  I  see  no 
chance  of  hearing  a  word  about  him  in.  future,  unless  some  stray 
shred  of  intelligence  comes  through  Mr.  Sowden  or  some  other 
second-hand  source.  In  all  this  it  is  not  I  who  am  to  be  pitied  at 


328  THE  BRONTES 

all,  and  of  course  nobody  pities  me.  They  all  think,  in  Haworth, 
that  I  have  disdainfully  refused  him,  etc.  If  pity  would  do  Mr. 
Nicholls  any  good,  he  ought  to  have  and  I  believe  has  it.  They 
may  abuse  me  if  they  will ;  whether  they  do  or  not  I  can't  tell. 

Write  soon  and  say  how  your  prospects  proceed.  I  trust  they 
will  daily  brighten.— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  636 

TO  W.  S.  WILLIAMS 

HAWORTH,  May  iBM,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — The  box  of  books  arrived  safely  yesterday 
evening,  and  I  feel  especially  obliged  for  the  selection,  as  it  in- 
cludes several  that  will  be  acceptable  and  interesting  to  my 
father. 

I  despatch  to-day  a  box  of  return  books.  Among  them  will  be 
found  two  or  three  of  those  just  sent,  being  such  as  I  had  read 
before — i.e.  Moore's  Life  and  Correspondence^  ist  and  2nd  vols. ; 
Lamartine's  Restoration  of  the  Monarchy,  etc.  I  have  thought  of 
you  more  than  once  during  the  late  bright  weather,  knowing  how 
genial  you  find  warmth  and  sunshine.  I  trust  it  has  brought  this 
season  its  usual  cheering  and  beneficial  effect.  Remember  me 
kindly  to  Mrs.  Williams  and  her  daughters,  and — Believe  me, 
yours  sincerely,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  637 

TO  MRS.  GASKELL 

HAWORTH,  June  isf,  1853. 

DEAR  MRS.  GASKELL, — June  is  come,  and  now  I  want  to 
know  if  you  can  come  on  Thursday,  the  pth  inst. 

Ever  since  I  was  at  Manchester  I  have  been  anticipating  your 
visit.  Not  that  I  attempt  to  justify  myself  in  asking  you  ;  the 
place  has  no  attractions,  as  I  told  you,  here  in  this  house.  Papa 
too  takes  great  interest  in  the  matter.  I  only  pray  that  the 
weather  may  be  fine,  and  that  a  cold,  by  which  I  am  now 
stupefied,  may  be  gone  before  the  gth,  so  that  I  may  have  no  let 
and  hindrance  in  taking  you  on  to  the  moors — the  sole,  but, 
with  one  who  loves  nature  as  you  do,  not  despicable,  resource. 

When  you  take  leave  of  the  domestic  circle  and  turn  your  back 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MRS.  GASKELL     329 

on  Plymouth  Grove  to  come  to  Haworth,  you  must  do  It  in  the 
spirit  which  might  sustain  you  in  case  you  were  setting  out  on 
a  brief  trip  to  the  backwoods  of  America.  Leaving  behind  your 
husband,  children,  and  civilisation,  you  must  come  out  to 
barbarism,  loneliness,  and  liberty.  The  change  will  perhaps  do 
good,  if  not  too  prolonged.  .  .  .  Please,  when  you  write,  to 
mention  by  what  train  you  will  come,  and  at  what  hour  you  will 
arrive  at  Keighley ;  for  I  must  take  measures  to  have  a  convey- 
ance waiting  for  you  at  the  station  ;  otherwise,  as  there  is  no 
cab-stand,  you  might  be  inconvenienced  and  hindered. 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  638 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

June  6//z,  '53. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — At  present,  I  will  comment  on  nothing  you 
have  told  me.  I  am  so  unlucky  as  to  have  got  a  very  bad  influenza 
cold,  and  to-day  I  am  so  miserably  sick,  I  cannot  bear  out  of  bed. 
Write  to  me  again  when  you  get  to  your  Brother's. — Yours  faith- 
fully, C.  BRONTE. 

Mrs.  Gaskell  has  written  to  say  she  will  come  on  Thursday  and 
stay  till  Monday.  Unless  I  alter  very  much  and  very  rapidly,  I 
shall  be  constrained  to  send  her  back  word  not  to  come. 


Letter  639 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

June  i-$th,  1853. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — You  must  still  excuse  a  few  scant  lines.  I 
have  been  suffering  most  severely  for  ten  days  with  continued 
pain  in  the  head,  on  the  nerves  it  is  said  to  be ;  blistering  at  last 
seems  to  have  done  it  some  good,  but  I  am  yet  weak  and  bewil- 
dered. Of  course  I  could  not  receive  Mrs.  Gaskell ;  it  was  a  great 
disappointment.  I  now  long  to  be  better,  to  get  her  visit  over  if 
possible,  and  then  to  ask  you  ;  but  I  must  wait  awhile  yet.  Papa 
has  not  been  well  either,  but  I  hope  he  is  better  now.  You  have 
had  a  hard  time  of  it  and  some  rough  experience.  Good-bye  for 
the  present  I  wish  much  to  talk  with  you  about  these  strange, 
unhappy  people  at  G . — Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 


330  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  640 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

June  \t>th,  '53. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  better  now.  As  usual  the  reduction  of 
strength  was  rapid,  and  the  convalescence  equally  so.  The  very 
dreadful  pain  in  my  head  is  almost  gone,  and  so  is  the  influenza. 
Papa  too  is  better,  but  I  was  frightened  about  him,  not 
that  he  has  in  the  least  lost  appetite,  or  thought  himself  ill, 
but  the  eyes,  etc.,  betrayed  those  symptoms  that  fill  me  with 
alarm. 

I  have  written  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  to  ask  her  for  next  week ;  when  I 
get  her  answer  I  will  tell  you  what  is  its  purport,  and  your  coming 
can  be  arranged  accordingly. 

I  am  glad,  dear  Nell,  you  are  having  a  little  enjoyment.  Stay 
at  Oundle,  if  you  can,  till  you  hear  from  me  again.  You  had 
better  come  direct  here  if  we  can  arrange  it ;  we  shall  see. — Yours 
faithfully,  '  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  641 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

June  20//&,  '53. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  have  been  very  much  vexed  to  find  that 
Martha  forgot  to  post  my  letter  of  Saturday  till  too  late,  conse- 
quently as  we  have  no  post  on  Sunday  it  will  not  reach  you  till 
to-day  at  the  earliest.  I  now  write  a  line  to  tell  you  to  be  sure 
and  arrange  your  departure  from  Oundle  according  to  your  own 
convenience.  My  health  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  question,  as 
I  am  now  about  in  my  usual  condition,  only  thin,  as  I  always  am 
after  illness.  Be  sure,  however,  to  let  me  know  the  time  of  your 
arrival  that  I  may  arrange  to  send  for  you. 

I  do  trust  it  may  be  fine  healthy  weather  while  you  are  here. 
The  enclosed  is  from  Amelia  to  you.  I  have  not  read  it,  though 
it  was  sent  to  me  open.  It  takes  two  posts  from  O.  to  Haworth. 

I  shall  expect  you  by  next  Thursday. — Yours  faithfully, 

C  BRONTE. 

I  trust  you  will  get  through  your  journey  all  right. 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MES.  GASKELL     331 

Letter  642 

TO   MRS.  GASKELL 

July  gth,  1853. 

Thank  you  for  your  letter ;  it  was  as  pleasant  as  a  quiet  chat, 
as  welcome  as  spring  showers,  as  reviving  as  a  friend's  visit ;  in 
short,  it  was  very  like  a  page  of  Cranford.  ...  A  thought  strikes 
me.  Do  you,  who  have  so  many  friends — so  large  a  circle  of 
acquaintance — find  it  easy,  when  you  sit  down  to  write,  to  isolate 
yourself  from  all  those  ties,  and  their  sweet  associations,  so  as  to 
be  your  own  woman,  uninfluenced  or  swayed  by  the  consciousness 
of  how  your  work  may  affect  other  minds  ;  what  blame  or  what, 
sympathy  it  may  call  forth?  Does  no  luminous  cloud  ever  come 
between  you  and  the  severe  Truth,  as  you  know  it  in  your  own 
secret  and  clear-seeing  soul  ?  In  a  word,  are  you  never  tempted 
to  make  your  characters  more  amiable  than  the  Life,  by  the 
inclination  to  assimilate  your  thoughts  to  the  thoughts  of  those 
who  always /££/ kindly,  but  sometimes  fail  to  see  justly?  Don't 
answer  the  question ;  it  is  not  intended  to  be  answered.  .  .  . 
Your  account  of  Mrs.  Stowe  was  stimulatingly  interesting.  I  long 
to  see  you,  to  get  you  to  say  it,  and  many  other  things,  all  over 
again.  My  father  continues  better.  I  am  better  too ;  but  to-day 
I  have  a  headache  again,  which  will  hardly  let  me  write  co- 
herently. Give  my  dear  love  to  Meta  and  Marianne,  dear  happy 
girls  as  they  are.  You  cannot  now  transmit  my  message  to 
Flossy  and  Julia.  I  prized  the  little  wild-flower — not  that  I 
think  the  sender  cares  for  me ;  she  does  not,  and  cannot^  for  she 
does  not  know  me  ;  but  no  matter.  In  my  reminiscences  she  is 
a  person  of  a  certain  distinction.  I  think  hers  a  fine  little  nature, 
frank  and  of  genuine  promise.  I  often  see  her,  as  she  appeared, 
stepping  supreme  from  the  portico  towards  the  carnage,  that 
evening  we  went  to  see  Twelfth  Night.  I  believe  in  Julia's 
future ;  I  like  what  speaks  in  her  movements,  and  what  is  written 
upon  her  face. — Yours  very  gratefully,  C.  BRONTE. 

The  review  which  seemed  to  affect  Miss  Bronte  most  of 
all  was  one  in  The  Christian  Remembrancer  of  April  1853, 
in  which  the  author  of  Villette  was  described  as  c  having 
gained  both  in  amiability  and  propriety  since  she  first 
presented  herself  to  the  world — soured,  coarse,  and 


332  THE  BRONTES 

grumbling;  an  alien,  it  might  seem,  from  society,  and 
amenable  to  none  of  its  laws/  Dr.  Robertson  Nicoll 
has  unearthed  a  protest  from  Charlotte  Bronte  to  the 
editor  of  The  Christian  Remembrancer,  in  which  the  author 
of  Villette  resents  the  suggestion  of  her  critic  that  she  is 
an  alien  from  society.1 

Letter  643 

TO  THE   EDITOR  OF  'THE  CHRISTIAN   REMEMBRANCER' 


&,  1853. 

SIR,  —  To  him  I  would  say  that  no  cause  of  seclusion  such  as 
he  would  imply  has  ever  come  near  my  thoughts,  deeds,  or  life. 
It  has  not  entered  my  experience.  It  has  not  crossed  my 
observation. 

Providence  so  regulated  my  destiny  that  I  was  born  and  have 
been  reared  in  the  seclusion  of  a  country  parsonage.  I  have 
never  been  rich  enough  to  go  out  into  the  world  as  a  participator 
in  its  gaieties,  though  it  early  became  my  duty  to  leave  home,  in 
order  partly  to  diminish  the  many  calls  on  a  limited  income. 
That  income  is  lightened  of  claims  in  another  sense  now,  for  of 
a  family  of  six  I  am  the  only  survivor. 

My  father  is  now  in  his  seventy-seventh  year  ;  his  mind  is 
clear  as  it  ever  was,  and  he  is  not  infirm,  but  he  suffers  from 
partial  privation  and  threatened  loss  of  sight;  and  his  general 
health  is  also  delicate  —  he  cannot  be  left  often  or  long  :  my  place 
consequently  is  at  home.  These  are  reasons  which  make  retire- 
ment a  plain  duty  ;  but  were  no  such  reasons  In  existence,  were 
I  bound  by  no  such  ties,  it  is  very  possible  that  seclusion  might 
still  appear  to  me,  on  the  whole,  more  congenial  than  publicity; 
the  brief  and  rare  glimpses  I  have  had  of  the  world  do  not  incline 
me  to  think  I  should  seek  its  circles  with  very  keen  zest  —  nor  can 
I  consider  such  disinclination  a  just  subject  for  reproach. 

This  is  the  truth.  The  careless,  rather  than  malevolent 
insinuations  of  reviewers  have,  it  seems,  widely  spread  another 
impression.  It  would  be  weak  to  complain,  but  I  feel  that  it  is 
only  right  to  place  the  real  in  opposition  to  the  unreal. 

Will  you  kindly  show  this  note  to  my  reviewer  ?  Perhaps  he 
1  The  Bookman,  November  1899. 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MRS.  GASKELL     333 

cannot  now  find  an  antidote  for  the  poison  into  which  he  dipped 
that  shaft  he  shot  at  '  Currer  Bell,'  but  when  again  tempted  to 
take  aim  at  other  prey,  let  him  refrain  his  hand  a  moment  till  he 
has  considered  consequences  to  the  wounded,  and  recalled  the 
*  golden  rule/  CURRER  BELL. 

It  was  fated  that  the  two  reviews  of  her  work  which 
most  offended  Miss  Bronte  should  have  been  written  by 
women — the  Quarterly  Review  article  by  Miss  Rigby, 
and,  as  I  also  learn  from  Dr.  Nicoll,  The  Christian 
Remembrancer  article  by  Miss  Anne  Mozley. 

Letter  644 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  August  yzth,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  MlSS  WOOLER,— I  was  from  home  when  your  kind 
letter  came,  and  as  it  was  not  forwarded,  I  did  not  get  it  till  rny 
return.  All  the  summer  I  have  felt  the  wish  and  cherished  the 
intention  to  join  you  for  a  brief  period  at  the  seaside ;  nor  do  I 
yet  entirely  relinquish  the  purpose,  though  its  fulfilment  must 
depend  on  my  father's  health.  At  present  he  complains  so  much 
of  weakness  and  depressed  spirits,  no  thoughts  of  leaving  him  can 
be  entertained.  Should  he  improve,  however,  I  would  fain  come 
to  you  before  autumn  is  quite  gone. 

My  late  absence  was  but  for  a  week,  when  I  accompanied  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Taylor  on  a  trip  to  Scotland.  They  went  with  the 
intention  of  taking  up  their  quarters  at  Kirkcudbright,  or  some 
watering-place  on  the  Solway  Frith.  We  barely  reached  that 
locality,  and  stayed  but  one  night,  when  the  baby  (that  rather 
despotic  member  of  modern  households)  exhibited  some  symp- 
toms of  indisposition.  To  my  unskilled  perception  its  ailments 
appeared  very  slight,  nowise  interfering  with  its  appetite  or  spirits, 
but  parental  eyes  saw  the  matter  in  a  different  light ;  the  air  of 
Scotland  was  pronounced  unpropitious  to  the  child,  and  conse- 
quently we  had  to  retrace  our  steps.  I  own  to  have  felt  some 
little  reluctance  to  leave  'bonnie  Scotland'  so  soon  and  so 
abruptly,  but  of  course  I  could  not  say  a  word,  since,  however 
strong  on  my  own  mind  the  impression  that  the  ailment  m  ques- 
tion was  very  trivial  and  temporary  (an  impression  confirmed  by 


334  THE  BRONTES 

the  issue),  I  could  not  be  absolutely  certain  that  such  was  the 
case,  and  had  any  evil  consequences  followed  a  prolonged  stay,  I 
should  never  have  forgiven  myself. 

Ilkley  was  the  next  place  thought  of.  We  went  there,  but  I 
only  remained  three  days,  for  in  the  hurry  of  changing  trains  at 
one  of  the  stations,  my  box  was  lost,  and  without  clothes  I  could 
not  stay.  I  have  heard  of  it  since,  but  I  have  not  yet  regained  it. 
In  all  probability  it  is  now  lying  at  Kirkcudbright,  where  it  was 
directed. 

Notwithstanding  some  minor  trials,  I  greatly  enjoyed  this  little 
excursion ;  the  scenery  through  which  we  travelled  from  Dumfries 
to  Kirkcudbright  (a  distance  of  thirty  miles  performed  outside  a 
stage-coach),  was  beautiful,  though  not  all  of  a  peculiarly  Scottish 
character,  being  richly  cultivated,  and  well  wooded.  I  liked 
Ilkley  too,  exceedingly,  and  shall  long  to  revisit  the  place.  On 
the  whole,  I  thought  it  for  the  best  that  circumstances  obliged  me 
to  return  home  so  soon,  for  I  found  papa  far  from  well ;  he  is 
something  better  now,  yet  I  shall  not  feel  it  right  to  leave  him 
again  till  I  see  a  more  thorough  re-establishment  of  health  and 
strength. 

With  some  things  to  regret  and  smile  at,  I  saw  many  things  to 
admire  in  the  small  family  party  with  which  I  travelled.  Mr. 
Taylor  makes  a  most  devoted  father  and  husband.  I  admired 
his  great  kindness  to  his  wife.  But  I  rather  groaned  (inwardly) 
over  the  unbounded  indulgence  of  both  parents  towards  their  only 
child.  The  world  revolves  round  the  sun ;  certain  babies,  I 
plainly  perceive,  are  the  more  important  centre  of  all  things. 
The  papa  and  mamma  could  only  take  their  meals,  rest  and  exer- 
cise at  such  times  and  in  such  measure  as  the  despotic  infant 
permitted,  While  Mrs.  Taylor  ate  her  dinner,  Mr.  Taylor  relieved 
guard  as  nurse.  A  nominal  nurse  indeed  accompanied  the  party, 
but  her  place  was  a  sort  of  anxious  waiting  sinecure,  as  the  child 
did  not  fancy  her  attendance.  Tenderness  to  offspring  is  a  virtue, 
yet  I  think  I  have  seen  mothers — the  late  Mrs.  Atkinson  for  in- 
stance— who  were  most  tender  and  thoughtful,  yet,  in  very  love 
for  their  children,  would  not  permit  them  to  become  tyrants 
either  over  themselves  or  others. 

I  shall  be  glad  and  grateful,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  to  hear 
from  you  again  whenever  you  have  time  or  inclination  to  write, 
though,  as  I  told  you  before,  there  is  no  fear  of  my  misunder- 
standing silence, 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MRS.  GASKELL     335 

Should  you  leave  Hornsea  before  winter  sets  in,  I  trust  you  will 
just  come  straight  to  Haworth,  and  pay  your  long-anticipated 
visit  there  before  you  go  elsewhere. 

Papa  and  the  servants  send  their  respects.  I  always  duly 
deliver  your  kind  messages  of  remembrance  because  they  give 
pleasure. — Believe  me  always,  yours  affectionately  and  respect- 
fully, C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  645 

TO   MRS.   GASKELL 

September — ,  1853. 

DEAR  MRS.  GASKELL, — I  was  glad  to  get  your  little  note,  glad 
to  hear  you  were  at  home  again.  Not  that,  practically,  it  makes 
much  difference  to  me  whether  you  are  in  Normandy  or  Man- 
chester :  the  shorter  distance  separates  perhaps  as  effectually  as 
the  longer,  yet  there  is  a  mental  comfort  in  thinking  that  but 
thirty  miles  intervene. 

Come  to  Haworth  as  soon  as  you  can;  the  heath  is  in  bloom 
now ;  I  have  waited  and  watched  for  its  purple  signal  as  the  fore- 
runner of  your  coming.  It  will  not  be  quite  faded  before  the 
i6th,  but  after  that  it  will  soon  grow  sere.  Be  sure  to  mention 
the  day  and  hour  of  your  arrival  at  Keighley. 

My  father  has  passed  the  summer,  not  well,  yet  better  than  I 
expected.  His  chief  complaint  is  of  weakness  and  depressed 
spirits ;  the  prospect  of  your  visit  still  affords  him  pleasure.  I 
am  surprised  to  see  how  he  looks  forward  to  it.  My  own  health 
has  been  much  better  lately. 

I  suppose  that  Meta  is  ere  this  returned  to  school  again.  This 
summer's  tour  will  no  doubt  furnish  a  lifelong  remembrance  of 
pleasure  to  her  and  Marianne.  Great  would  be  the  joy  of  the 
little  ones  at  seeing  you  all  home  again. 

I  saw  in  the  papers  the  death  of  Mr.  S.,  of  scarlet  fever,  at  his 
residence  in  Wales.  Was  it  not  there  you  left  Flossy  and  Julia? 
This  thought  recurred  to  me,  with  some  chilling  fears  of  what 
might  happen ;  but  I  trust  that  all  is  safe  now.  How  is  poor 
Mrs.  S.  ? 

Remember  me  very,  very  kindly  to  Mr.  Gaskell  and  the  whole 
circle.  Write  when  you  have  time ;  come  at  the  earliest  day,  and 
believe  me  yours  very  truthfully,  C  BRONTE. 


336  THE  BRONTES 


Letter  646 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  September  %th. 

MY  DEAR  MlSS  WOOLER, — Your  letter  was  truly  kind  and  made 
me  warmly  wish  to  join  you.  My  prospects,  however,  of  being 
able  to  leave  home  continue  very  unsettled.  I  am  expect- 
ing Mrs.  Gaskell  next  week  or  the  week  after,  the  day  being 
yet  undetermined.  She  was  to  have  come  in  June,  but  then  my 
severe  attack  of  influenza  rendered  it  impossible  that  I  should 
receive  or  entertain  her  ;  since  that  time  she  has  been  absent  on 
the  Continent  with  her  husband  and  two  eldest  girls,  and  just 
before  I  received  yours  I  had  a  letter  from  her  volunteering  a 
visit  at  a  vague  date,  which  I  requested  her  to  fix  as  soon  as 
possible.  My  father  has  been  much  better  during  the  last  three 
or  four  days. 

When  I  know  anything  certain  I  will  write  to  you  again. 
Believe  me,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  yours  respectfully  and  affec- 
tionately, C,  BRONTE. 

Mrs.  Gaskell  thus  describes  her  visit  in  a  letter  written 
from  Haworth  at  the  time  and  afterwards  published  in  her 
biography  of  Charlotte  Bronte:  — 


Letter  647 

MRS.  GASKELL  TO  A  FRIEND 

It  was  a  dull,  drizzly,  Indian-inky  day  all  the  way  on  the  rail- 
road to  Keighley,  which  is  a  rising  wool-manufacturing  town, 
lying  in  a  hollow  between  hills — not  a  pretty  hollow,  but  more 
what  the  Yorkshire  people  call  a  '  bottom/  or  '  botham.'  I  left 
Keighley  in  a  car  for  Haworth,  four  miles  off— four  tough,  steep, 
scrambling  miles,  the  road  winding  between  the  wavelike  hills  that 
rose  and  fell  on  every  side  of  the  horizon,  with  a  long,  illimitable, 
sinuous  look,  as  if  they  were  a  part  of  the  line  of  the  Great  Serpent 
which  the  Norse  legend  says  girdles  the  world.  The  day  was 
lead-coloured ;  the  road  had  stone  factories  alongside  of  it ;  grey, 
dull-coloured  rows  of  stone  cottages  belonging  to  these  factories ; 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MRS.  GASKELL     SS7 

and  then  we  came  to  poor,  hungry-looking  fields — stone  fences 
everywhere,  and  trees  nowhere.  Haworth  is  a  long,  straggling 
village :  one  steep  narrow  street — so  steep  that  the  flagstones 
with  which  it  is  paved  are  placed  endways,  that  the  horses'  feet 
may  have  something  to  cling  to,  and  not  slip  down  backwards, 
which  if  they  did  they  would  soon  reach  Keighley.  But  if  the 
horses  had  cats'  feet  and  claws  they  would  do  all  the  better.  Well, 
we  (the  man,  horse,  car,  and  I)  clambered  up  this  street,  and  reached 
the  church  dedicated  to  St.  Autest  (who  was  he?)  ;  then  we  turned 
off  into  a  lane  on  the  left,  past  the  curate's  lodging  at  the  sexton's, 
past  the  schoolhouse,  up  to  the  Parsonage  yard-door.  I  went 
round  the  house  to  the  front  door,  looking  to  the  church ; — moors 
everywhere  beyond  and  above.  The  crowded  graveyard  surrounds 
the  house  and  small  grass  enclosure  for  drying  clothes. 

I  don't  know  that  I  ever  saw  a  spot  more  exquisitely  clean  ; 
the  most  dainty  place  for  that  I  ever  saw.  To  be  sure  the  life  is 
like  clockwork.  No  one  comes  to  the  house ;  nothing  disturbs 
the  deep  repose;  hardly  a  voice  is  heard;  you  catch  the  ticking- 
of  the  clock  in  the  kitchen,  or  the  buzzing  of  a  fly  in  the  parlour, 
all  over  the  house.  Miss  Bronte  sits  alone  in  her  parlour,  break- 
fasting with  her  father  in  his  study  at  nine  o'clock.  She  helps  in 
the  housework ;  for  one  of  their  servants  (Tabby)  is  nearly  ninety, 
and  the  other  only  a  girl.  Then  I  accompanied  her  in  her  walks 
on  the  sweeping  moors  ;  the  heather  bloom  had  been  blighted  by 
a  thunderstorm  a  day  or  two  before,  and  was  all  of  a  livid  brown 
colour,  instead  of  the  blaze  of  purple  glory  it  ought  to  have  been. 
Oh !  those  high,  wild,  desolate  moors,  up  above  the  whole  world, 
and  the  very  realms  of  silence !  Home  to  dinner  at  two.  Mr 
Bronte  has  his  dinner  sent  in  to  him.  All  the  small  table  arrange- 
ments had  the  same  dainty  simplicity  about  them.  Then  we 
rested,  and  talked  over  the  clear  bright  fire  ;  it  is  a  cold  country, 
and  the  fires  gave  a  pretty  warm  dancing  light  all  over  the  house. 
The  parlour  has  been  evidently  refurnished  within  the  last  few 
years,  since  Miss  Bronte's  success  has  enabled  her  to  have  a  little 
more  money  to  spend.  Everything  fits  into,  and  is  in  harmony 
with,  the  idea  of  a  country  parsonage,  possessed  by  people  of  very 
moderate  means.  The  prevailing  colour  of  the  room  is  crimson, 
to  make  a  warm  setting  for  the  cold  grey  landscape  without 
There  is  her  likeness  by  Richmond,  and  an  engraving  from  Law- 
rence's picture  of  Thackeray ;  and  two  recesses,  on  each  side  of 
the  high,  narrow,  old-fashioned  mantelpiece,  filled  with  books — 

VOL.  II.  Y 


338  THE  BRONTfiS 

books  given  to  her,  books  she  has  bought,  and  which  tell  of  her 
individual  pursuits  and  tastes ;  not  standard  books. 

She  cannot  see  well,  and  does  little  beside  knitting.  The  way 
she  weakened  her  eyesight  was  this :  When  she  was  sixteen  or 
seventeen,  she  wanted  much  to  draw;  and  she  copied  nimini- 
pimini  copper- plate  engravings  out  of  annuals  ('stippling'  don't 
the  artists  call  it  ?),  every  little  point  put  in,  till  at  the  end  of  six 
months  she  had  produced  an  exquisitely  faithful  copy  of  the 
engraving.  She  wanted  to  learn  to  express  her  ideas  by  drawing. 
After  she  had  tried  to  draw  stones,  and  not  succeeded,  she  took 
the  better  mode  of  writing,  but  in  so  small  a  hand  that  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  decipher  what  she  wrote  at  this  time. 

But  now  to  return  to  our  quiet  hour  of  rest  after  dinner.  I  soon 
observed  that  her  habits  of  order  were  such  that  she  could  not 
go  on  with  the  conversation  if  a  chair  was  out  of  its  place ;  every- 
thing was  arranged  with  delicate  regularity.  We  talked  over  the 
old  times  of  her  childhood;  of  her  elder  sister's  (Maria's)  death — 
just  like  that  of  Helen  Burns  in  Jane  Byre — of  the  desire  (almost 
amounting  to  illness)  of  expressing  herself  in  some  way,  writing 
or  drawing  ;  of  her  weakened  eyesight,  which  prevented  her  doing 
anything  for  two  years,  from  the  age  of  seventeen  to  nineteen  ;  of 
her  being  a  governess ;  of  her  going  to  Brussels ;  whereupon  I 
said  I  disliked  Lucy  Snowe,  and  we  discussed  M.  Paul  Emanuel ; 

and  I  told  her  of 's  admiration  of  Shirley ',  which  pleased  her, 

for  the  character  of  Shirley  was  meant  for  her  sister  Emily,  about 
whom  she  is  never  tired  of  talking,  nor  I  of  listening.  Emily  must 
have  been  a  remnant  of  the  Titans,  great-granddaughter  of  the 
giants  who  used  to  inhabit  the  earth.  One  day  Miss  Bronte 
brought  down  a  rough,  common-looking  oil  painting,  done  by  her 
brother,  of  herself — a  little  rather  prim-looking  girl  of  eighteen — 
and  the  two  other  sisters,  girls  of  sixteen  and  fourteen,  with 
cropped  hair,  and  sad,  dreamy-looking  eyes.  .  .  .  Emily  had  a 
great  dog — half  mastiff,  half  bulldog — so  savage,  etc.  .  .  .  This 
dog  went  to  her  funeral,  walking  side  by  side  with  her  father; 
and  then,  to  the  day  of  its  death,  it  slept  at  her  room  door, 
snuffing  under  it,  and  whining  every  morning. 

We  have  generally  had  another  walk  before  tea,  which  is  at 
six ;  at  half-past  eight  prayers ;  and  by  nine  all  the  household 
are  in  bed,  except  ourselves.  We  sit  up  together  till  ten,  or  past; 
and  after  I  go  I  hear  Miss  Bronte  come  down  and  walk  up  and 
down  the  room  for  an  hour  or  so.  E.  C.  GASKELL. 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MRS.  GASKELL     339 

Mrs.  Gaskell  thus  continues  in  the  Life  her  reminis- 
cences of  that  visit : — 

I  asked  her  whether  she  had  ever  taken  opium,  as  the  de- 
scription given  of  its  effects  in  Villette  was  so  exactly  Mrs 
like  what  I  had  experienced — vivid  and  exaggerated  GaskeiTs 
presence  of  objects,  of  which  the  outlines  were  indistinct  Narrat*ve. 
or  lost  in  golden  mist,  etc.  She  replied  that  she  had  never,  to 
her  knowledge,  taken  a  grain  of  it  in  any  shape,  but  that  she 
had  followed  the  process  she  always  adopted  when  she  had  to 
describe  anything  which  had  not  fallen  within  her  own  experience  ; 
she  had  thought  intently  on  it  for  many  and  many  a  night  before 
falling  to  sleep — wondering  what  it  was  like,  or  how  it  would  be 
— till  at  length,  sometimes  after  the  progress  of  her  story  had 
been  arrested  at  this  one  point  for  weeks,  she  wakened  up  in  the 
morning  with  all  clear  before  her,  as  if  she  had  in  reality  gone 
through  the  experience,  and  then  could  describe  it,  word  for 
word,  as  it  had  happened.  I  cannot  account  for  this  psycholo- 
gically ;  I  only  am  sure  that  it  was  so  because  she  said  it. 

She  made  many  inquiries  as  to  Mrs.  Stowe's  personal  appear- 
ance ;  and  it  evidently  harmonised  well  with  some  theory  of  hers 
to  hear  that  the  author  of  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  was  small  and  slight 
It  was  another  of  her  theories  that  no  mixtures  of  blood  produce 
such  fine  characters,  mentally  and  morally,  as  the  Scottish  and 
English. 

I  recollect,  too,  her  saying  how  acutely  she  dreaded  a  charge  of 
plagiarism  when,  after  she  had  written  Jane  Eyre,  she  read  the 
thrilling  effect  of  the  mysterious  scream  at  midnight  in  Mrs. 
Marsh's  story  of  The  Deformed.  She  also  said  that,  when  she 
read  The  Neighbours,  she  thought  every  one  would  fancy  that  she 
must  have  taken  her  conception  of  Jane  Eyre's  character  from 
that  of  '  Francesca/  the  narrator  of  Miss  Bremer's  story.  For  my 
own  part,  I  cannot  see  the  slightest  resemblance  between  the  two 
characters,  and  so  I  told  her ;  but  she  persisted  in  saying  that 
Francesca  was  Jane  Eyre  married  to  a  good-natured  *Bearr  of 
a  Swedish  surgeon. 

We  went,  not  purposely,  but  accidentally,  to  see  various  poor 
people  in  our  distant  walks.  From  one  we  had  borrowed  an 
umbrella ;  in  the  house  of  another  we  had  taken  shelter  from  a 
rough  September  storm.  In  all  these  cottages  her  quiet  presence 
was  known.  At  three  miles  from  her  home  the  chair  was  dusted 


340  THE  BRONTES 

for  her,  with  a  kindly  *  Sit  ye  down,  Miss  Bronte' ;  and  she  knew 
what  absent  or  ailing  members  of  the  family  to  inquire  after.  Her 
quiet,  gentle  words,  few  though  they  might  be,  were  evidently 
grateful  to  those  Yorkshire  ears.  Their  welcome  to  her,  though 
rough  and  curt,  was  sincere*  and  hearty. 

We  talked  about  the  different  courses  through  which  life  ran. 
She  said  in  her  own  composed  manner,  as  if  she  had  accepted  the 
theory  as  a  fact,  that  she  believed  some  were  appointed  before- 
hand to  sorrow  and  much  disappointment;  that  it  did  not  fall  to 
the  lot  of  all — as  Scripture  told  us — to  have  their  lines  fall  in 
pleasant  places ;  that  it  was  well  for  those  who  had  rougher  paths 
to  perceive  that  such  was  God's  will  concerning  them,  and  try  to 
moderate  their  expectations,  leaving  hope  to  those  of  a  different 
doom,  and  seeking  patience  and  resignation  as  the  virtues  they 
were  to  cultivate,  I  took  a  different  view :  I  thought  that  human 
lots  were  more  equal  than  she  imagined ;  that  to  some  happiness 
and  sorrow  came  in  strong  patches  of  light  and  shadow  (so  to 
speak),  while  in  the  lives  of  others  they  were  pretty  equally 
blended  throughout  She  smiled,  and  shook  her  head,  and  said 
she  was  trying  to  school  herself  against  ever  anticipating  any 
pleasure ;  that  it  was  better  to  be  brave  and  submit  faithfully ; 
there  was  some  good  reason,  which  we  should  know  in  time,  why 
sorrow  and  disappointment  were  to  be  the  lot  of  some  on  earth. 
It  was  better  to  acknowledge  this,  and  face  out  the  truth  in  a 
religious  faith. 

In  connection  with  this  conversation  she  named  a  little  abortive 
plan  which  I  had  not  heard  of  till  then :  how,  in  the  previous 
July,  she  had  been  tempted  to  join  some  friends  (a  married  couple 
and  their  child)  in  an  excursion  to  Scotland.  They  set  out  joy- 
fully ;  she  with  special  gladness,  for  Scotland  was  a  land  which 
had  its  roots  deep  down  in  her  imaginative  affections,  and  the 
glimpse  of  two  days  at  Edinburgh  was  all  she  had  yet  seen  of  it 
But,  at  the  first  stage  after  Carlisle,  the  little  yearling  child  was 
taken  with  a  slight  indisposition;  the  anxious  parents  fancied 
that  strange  diet  had  disagreed  with  it,  and  hurried  back  to  their 
Yorkshire  home  as  eagerly  as,  two  or  three  days  before,  they 
had  set  their  faces  northward  in  hopes  of  a  month's  pleasant 
ramble. 

We  parted  with  many  intentions,  on  both  sides,  of  renewing 
very  frequently  the  pleasure  we  had  had  in  being  together.  We 
agreed  that  when  she  wanted  bustle,  or  when  I  wanted  quiet,  we 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MRS.  GASKELL     341 

were  to  let  each  other  know,  and  exchange  visits  as  occasion 
required. 

I  was  aware  that  she  had  a  great  anxiety  on  her  mind  at  this 
time;  and  being  acquainted  with  its  nature,  I  could  not  but 
deeply  admire  the  patient  docility  which  she  displayed  in  her 
conduct  towards  her  father. 


342  THE  BRONTES 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

MARRIAGE 

DURING  these  months  Mr.  Nicholls  had  not  been  for- 
gotten. He  had  left  Ha  worth,  as  we  have  seen,  in  May 
and  had  taken  up  duties  at  Kirk-Smeaton.1  During  the 
ensuing  five  or  six  months  a  Mr.  De  Renzi  had  assisted  at 
Haworth.  But  Mr.  Bronte  missed  the  diligent  care  of  his 
former  curate,  and  was  becoming  restive,  and  doubtful 
perhaps  if  his  passionate  objection  to  his  daughter's  lover 
was  altogether  worldly-wise,  not  to  say  Christian.  Thus 
matters  stood  when  Charlotte  returned  home  from  visiting 
Manchester  and  her  old  schoolmistress  at  Hornsea. 

Letter  648 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  October  Wi,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  MISS  WOOLER, — I  wished  much  to  write  to  you 
immediately  on  my  return  home,  but  I  found  several  little 
matters  demanding  attention,  and  have  been  kept  busy  till  now. 
Mr.  C could  not  come  to  preach  the  sermons,  and  conse- 
quently Mr.  F was  applied  to  in  his  stead;  he  arrived  on 

Saturday  and  remained  till  yesterday. 

My  journey  home  would  have  been  pleasant  enough  had  it  not 
been  spoilt  in  the  commencement  by  one  slight  incident.  About 
half-way  between  Hull  and  Hornsea,  a  respectable-looking  woman 
and  her  little  girl  were  admitted  into  the  coach.  The  child  took 
her  place  opposite  me :  she  had  not  sat  long  before,  without  any 
warning,  or  the  slightest  complaint  of  nausea,  sickness  seized  her, 

1  Six  miles  south-east  of  Pontefract. 


MARRIAGE  343 

and  the  contents  of  her  little  stomach,  consisting  apparently 
of  a  milk  breakfast,  were  unceremoniously  deposited  in  my  lap ! 
Of  course  I  alighted  from  the  coach  in  a  pretty  mess,  but 
succeeded  in  procuring  water  and  a  towel  at  the  station,  with 
which  I  managed  to  make  my  dress  and  cloak  once  more 
presentable. 

I  reached  home  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  the 
anxiety  which  is  inseparable  from  a  return  after  absence  was 
pleasantly  relieved  by  finding  papa  well  and  cheerful.  He 
inquired  after  you  with  interest.  I  gave  him  your  kind  regards, 
and  he  specially  charged  me  whenever  I  wrote  to  present  his  in 
return,  and  to  say  also  that  he  hoped  to  see  you  at  Haworth  at 
the  earliest  date  which  shall  be  convenient  to  you. 

The  week  I  spent  at  Hornsea  was  a  happy  and  pleasant  week. 
Thank  you,  my  dear  Miss  Wooler,  for  the  true  kindness  which 
gave  It  its  chief  charm.  I  shall  think  of  you  often,  especially 
when  I  walk  out,  and  during  the  long  evenings.  I  believe  the 
weather  has  at  length  taken  a  turn  :  to-day  is  beautifully  fine.  I 
wish  I  were  at  Hornsea  and  just  now  preparing  to  go  out  with 
you  to  walk  on  the  sands  or  along  the  lake. 

I  would  not  have  you  to  fatigue  yourself  with  writing  to  me 
when  you  are  not  inclined,  but  yet  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  from 
you  some  day  ere  long.  When  you  do  write,  tell  me  how  you 
liked  The  Experience  of  Life^  and  whether  you  have  read  The 
NewcomeS)  and  what  you  think  of  it. — Believe  me,  always  yours, 
with  true  affection  and  respect,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  649 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  Thursday  Morning, 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  duly  and  safely  reached  home  with  my  pur- 
chases at  about  5  o'clock  yesterday  afternoon.  I  found  papa, 
etc.,  very  well.  The  maps,  the  carpet  and  rug,  all  gave  satisfaction, 
the  other  purchases  I  kept  from  observation,  but  they  will  be 
appreciated  I  dare  say  when  they  appear  in  their  proper  time  and 
place.  I  hope  you  also  reached  home  all  right,  but  I  fear  the 
fatigue  you  underwent  will  leave  its  effects  to-day.  It  was  not  a 
very  good  preparation  for  the  long  walk  to  Scholes. 

Write  to  me  soon  and  tell  me  how  you  are.     I  have  some  head- 


344  THE  BRONTES 

ache  to-day,  but  not  violent ;  a  general  jaded,  weary  feeling  was 
to  be  expected.  With  love  to  your  mother  and  Mercy,  and  kind 
regards  to  Mr.  Clapham. — I  am,  dear  Ellen,  yours,  fagged  but 
faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  650 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

HAWORTH. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  find  I  cannot  have  the  gig  till  Friday ;  on 
that  day  it  shall  (D.V.)  be  at  the  station  at  the  hour  you  name, 
and  then  I  hope  it  will  bring  you  safe  to  me.  The  prospect  of 
seeing  you  already  cheers. 

One  reason  which  I  shall  tell  you  when  you  come  partly  recon- 
ciles me  to  this  temporary  delay.  If  I  do  not  hear  anything  to 
the  contrary,  I  shall  consider  the  matter  settled.  May  no 
hindrance  arise  either  here  or  at  Brookroyd.  Kind  regards  to  all. 
Dear  Nell,  yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 


Letter  651 

TO  W.   S.   WILLIAMS 

December 6tk,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  forwarded  last  week  a  box  of  return  books  to 
Cornhill,  which  I  trust  arrived  safely.  To-day  I  received  the 
Edinburgh  Guardian}  for  which  I  thank  you. 

Do  not  trouble  yourself  to  select  or  send  any  more  books. 
These  courtesies  must  cease  some  day,  and  I  would  rather  give 
them  up  than  wear  them  out, — Believe  me,  yours  sincerely, 

C,  BRONTE. 

Letter  652 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  December  iztti. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  WOOLER, — I  wonder  how  you  are  spending  these 
long  winter  evenings.  Alone,  probably,  like  me.  The  thought 

1  This  article  was  by  Sir  John  Skelton,  K.C.B.  (1831-1897),  who,  under  the 
pseudonym  of '  Shirley,'  made  a  considerable  reputation  in  literature.  He  was  Chair- 
man of  the  Local  Government  Board  for  Scotland. 


MARRIAGE  345 

often  crosses  me,  as  I  sit  by  myself— how  pleasant  It  would  be  if 
you  lived  within  a  walking  distance,  and  I  could  go  to  you  some- 
times, or  have  you  to  come  and  spend  a  day  and  night  with  me. 
Yes;  I  did  enjoy  that  week  at  Hornsea.  I  remember  it  with 
pleasure,  and  I  look  forward  to  spring  as  the  period  when  you 
will  fulfil  your  promise  of  coming  to  visit  me. 

I  fear  you  must  be  very  solitary  at  Hornsea.  How  hard  to 
some  people  of  the  world  it  would  seem  to  live  your  life — how 
utterly  impossible  to  live  it  with  a  serene  spirit  and  an  unsoured 
disposition  !  It  seems  wonderful  to  me,  because  you  are  not  like 

Mrs.  R ,  phlegmatic  and  impenetrable,  but  received  from 

nature  feelings  of  the  very  finest  edge.  Such  feelings,  when  they 
are  locked  up,  sometimes  damage  the  mind  and  temper.  They 
don't  with  you.  It  must  be  partly  principle,  partly  self-discipline, 
which  keeps  you  as  you  are. 

Do  not  think  that  your  kind  wish  respecting  Mr.  Nicholls  and 
myself  does  not  touch  or  influence  me;  it  does  both  ;  yet  I  hardly 
know  how  to  take  the  step  you  recommend  C.  BRONTK 


Letter  653 

TO  SYDNEY  DOBELL 
HAWORTH,  NEAR  KEIGHLEY,  February  ^rd,  1854, 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  can  hardly  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  to  have 
an  opportunity  of  explaining  that  taciturnity  to  which  you  allude. 
Your  letter  came  at  a  period  of  danger  and  care,  when  my  father 
was  very  ill,  and  I  could  not  leave  his  bedside.  I  answered  no 
letters  at  that  time,  and  yours  was  one  of  three  or  four  that,  when 
leisure  returned  to  me,  and  I  came  to  consider  their  purport,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  the  time  was  past  for  answering  them,  and  I 
laid  them  finally  aside.  If  you  remember,  you  asked  me  to  go  to 
London ;  it  was  too  late  either  to  go  or  to  decline.  I  was  sure 
you  had  left  London.  One  circumstance  you  mentioned — your 
wife's  illness — which  I  have  thought  of  many  a  time,  and  wondered 
whether  she  is  better.  In  your  present  note  you  do  not  refer 
to  her,  but  I  trust  her  health  has  long  ere  now  been  quite 
restored. 

Balder  arrived  safely.  I  looked  at  him,  before  cutting  his 
leaves,  with  singular  pleasure.  Remembering  well  his  elder 
brother,  the  potent  Roman,  it  was  natural  to  give  a  cordial 


346  THE  BRONTES 

welcome  to  a  fresh  scion  of  the  same  house  and  race.  I  have 
read  him.  He  impresses  me  thus:  He  teems  with  power;  I 
found  in  him  a  wild  wealth  of  life,  but  I  thought  his  favourite  and 
favoured  child  would  bring  his  sire  trouble — would  make  his  heart 
ache.  It  seemed  to  me  that  his  strength  and  beauty  were  not  so 
much  those  of  Joseph,  the  pillar  of  Jacob's  age,  as  of  the  Prodigal 
Son,  who  troubled  his  father,  though  he  always  kept  his  love. 

How  is  it  that  while  the  first-born  of  genius  often  brings 
honour  the  second  almost  as  often  proves  a  source  of  depression 
and  care?  I  could  almost  prophesy  that  your  third  will  atone 
for  any  anxiety  inflicted  by  this  his  immediate  predecessor. 

There  is  power  in  that  character  of  *  Balder/  and  to  me  a  certain 
horror.  Did  you  mean  it  to  embody,  along  with  force,  any  of  the 
special  defects  of  the  artistic  character?  It  seems  to  me  that 
those  defects  were  never  thrown  out  in  stronger  lines.  I  did  not 
and  could  not  think  you  meant  to  offer  him  as  your  cherished 
ideal  of  the  true  great  poet ;  I  regard  him  as  a  vividly  coloured 
picture  of  inflated  self-esteem,  almost  frantic  aspiration ;  of  a 
nature  that  has  made  a  Moloch  of  intellect — offered  up,  in  pagan 
fires,  the  natural  affections — sacrificed  the  heart  to  the  brain.  Do 
we  not  all  know  that  true  greatness  is  simple,  self-oblivious,  prone 
to  unambitious,  unselfish  attachments  ?  I  am  certain  you  feel 
this  truth  in  your  heart  of  hearts. 

But  if  the  critics  err  now  (as  yet  I  have  seen  none  of  their 
lucubrations)  you  shall  one  day  set  them  right  in  the  second  part 
of  Balder.  You  shall  show  them  that  you  too  know — better, 
perhaps,  than  they — that  the  truly  great  man  is  too  sincere  in  his 
affections  to  grudge  a  sacrifice ;  too  much  absorbed  in  his  work 
to  talk  loudly  about  it;  too  intent  on  finding  the  best  way  to 
accomplish  what  he  undertakes  to  think  great  things  of  himself — 
the  instrument.  And  if  God  places  seeming  impediments  in  his 
way — if  his  duties  sometimes  seem  to  hamper  his  powers — he 
feels  keenly,  perhaps  writhes  under,  the  slow  torture  of  hindrance 
and  delay ;  but  if  there  be  a  true  man's  heart  in  his  breast  he  can 
bear,  submit,  wait  patiently. 

Whoever  speaks  to  me  of  Balder — though  I  live  too  retired  a 
life  to  come  often  in  the  way  of  comment — shall  be  answered 
according  to  your  suggestion  and  my  own  impression.  Equity 
demands  that  you  shall  be  your  own  interpreter.  Good-bye  for 
the  present,  and  believe  me,  faithfully  and  gratefully, 

CHARLOTTE  BRONTE. 


MARRIAGE  347 

Letter  654 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

WELLINGTON,  February  242^,  '54. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  got  a  letter  from  you  some  time  ago  Pr. 
Constantin,  dated  Brookroyd,  Aug.  12/53,  Just  about  six  months 
ago.  Thank  you  for  your  trouble  concerning  my  dress  and 
bonnet  You  may  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  it  was  not  in 
vain,  as  they  both  turned  out  wonderfully  well,  and  I  shall 
certainly  accept  your  kind  offer  and  get  another  in  time  for  next 
winter  but  one.  How  ever  did  you  manage  to  make  the  dress  so 
heavy?  and  then  call  it  not  a  winter  dress !  It  fitted  well,  thoj  it 
was  too  long;  a  very  small  fault.  The  bonnet  just  suited  me. 
The  thermometer  just  now  rises  to  about  80°  every  day,  wherefore 
the  fine  things  are  put  by.  I  shall  bring  them  out  in  due  time. 
You  cannot  imagine  the  importance  they  give ;  the  peak  behind 
is  the  object  of  universal  admiration. 

I  am  glad  you  approved  of  my  lecture  to  Joe  on  diet ;  tho'  you 
are  mistaken  in  thinking  that  I  follow  my  own  advice.  In  summer 
I  never  eat  six  dinners  in  the  week,  seldom  more  than  three.  My 
health  suffers  less  from  low  living  than  it  would  from  biliousness 
were  I  to  eat  more.  Luckily  winter  comes,  and  I  can  keep  up  my 
strength  and  have  an  easy  mind  and  clear  head  at  the  same  time 
I  seldom  taste  anything  stronger  than  tea,  either  in  hot  weather 
or  cold. 

You  talk  wonderful  nonsense  about  Charlotte  Bronte  in  your 
letter.  What  do  you  mean  about c  bearing  her  position  so  long,  and 
enduring  to  the  end'?  and  still  better,  'bearing  our  lot,  whatever 
it  is.'  If  it's  Charlotte's  lot  to  be  married, shouldn't  she  bear  that 
too  ?  or  does  your  strange  morality  mean  that  she  should  refuse  to 
ameliorate  her  lot  when  it  is  in  her  power.  How  would  she  be  in- 
consistent with  herself  in  marrying?  Because  she  considers  her  own 
pleasure  ?  If  this  is  so  new  for  her  to  do,  it  is  high  time  she  began 
to  make  it  more  common.  It  is  an  outrageous  exaction  to  expect 
her  to  give  up  her  choice  in  a  matter  so  important,  and  I  think 
her  to  blame  in  having  been  hitherto  so  yielding  that  her  friends 
can  think  of  making  such  an  impudent  demand, .  , .  Your  account 
of  your  trip  to  Yarmouth  is  amusing.  I  am  right  glad  you  came 
back  again. 


348  THE  BRONTES 

All  your  gossip  is  very  interesting.  Mrs.  Joe  Taylor  sends  me 
very  little,  being  used,  I  think,  to  spend  her  time  too  much  at 
home.  Perhaps  when  her  health  improves  she  will  take  more 
interest  in  her  neighbours. 

I  wish  you  could  see  how  busy  I  am  going  to  be.  I  have  got 
such  a  lot  of  things  coming.  Finery  of  all  kinds.  It  will  take  me 
a  fortnight's  hard  work  to  get  them  all  arranged  and  ticketed. 
And  then  the  people  that  will  come  to  see  them  !  I  always  find 
myself  wondering  at  these  people  with  one  eye,  while  I  wait  on 
them  with  the  other.  It  gives  them  such  evident  pain  to  see  any- 
thing they  can't  buy,  and  it  is  so  impossible  for  them  not  to  look 
at  the  most  expensive  things,  even  when  they  can't  buy  any  but 
the  cheapest.  Then  the  tricks  they  play  on  their  husbands'  head, 
or  heart,  or  purse,  to  get  the  money !  And  then  the  coolness  with 
which  they  Jll  say  they  don't  care  a  bit  aboutitjjajjjj^ 
might  as  well  have  it!  There  are  some  silk  mantles  cor 
about  which  more  lies  will  be  told  than  would  make  a  lawyer's" 
fortune,  to  me,  their  husbands,  friends,  and  neighbours.  Don't 
think  all  my  customers  answer  to  this  description.  Yet  it's 
wonderful  how  many  do. 

I  Ve  got  an  addition  to  my  store,  by  which  you  may  see  I  'm 
getting  on  in  the  world.  It  has  20  feet  frontage  and  is  16  feet 
deep.  I  could  let  it  for  ,£50  or  £60  Pr.  an.,  but  then  the  ground 
is  not  paid  for.  I  intend  to  pay  for  it  this  winter.  My  coming 
home  seems  just  as  far  off  as  ever;  that  is,  two  or  three  years 
more.  In  that  time  I  expect  this  town  and  colony  to  advance 
wonderfully.  There  will  be  steam  communication  vi&  Panama — 
perhaps  1 11  come  home  that  way.  There  will  be  a  large  export 
of  wool  to  England  and  kai — provisions,  to  Australia.  Then 
there  are  signs  of  a  mania  for  emigration  to  N.  Zealand  coming 
on — a  sort  of  fever  which  will  injure  those  who  get  it,  but  will 
benefit  the  colony  generally.  All  settlers  of  course  encourage  this 
mania,  as  it  is  to  their  own  advantage.  Indeed,  so  long  as  people 
come  of  their  judgment  there  is  no  doubt  they  will  do  well 
Labouring  men  get  six  shillings  a  day,  and  every  other  kind  of 
work  is  paid  in  proportion.  But  once  let  it  be  understood  that  a 
-  man  can  get  rich  just  by  coming  here  and  we  shall  have  such 
cargoes  of  helpless,  silly  people ! 

There  was  a  family  of  that  kind  came  here  once  and  settled  in 
the  country.  They  brought  a  man-servant  for  the  gentleman  and 
a  maid  for  the  lady  and  a  few  more  servants.  They  went  into  the 


MARRIAGE  349 

country,  about  two  days'  journey  from  Wellington,  after  making 
themselves  remarkable  for  a  while  in  the  town  with  their  ex- 
traordinary ringlets,  ribbons,  fly-away  hats,  and  frippery  of  all 
kinds.  After  a  few  months  I  heard  they  were  in  great  distress — 
nearly  starving.  All  their  servants  had  left  them,  and  they  were 
all  ill  in  bed.  <  Why,  what 's  the  matter  with  them  ? '  '  Oh,  the 
mosquitoes  have  bitten  them  so  ! ' 

I  wish  you  would  send  me  some  more  particular  account  of 
yourself  in  your  next  letter.  You  write  twice  a  year  and  I  quite 
lose  the  thread  of  your  wanderings  between  the  letters.  One 
newspaper  sent  me  is  addressed  to  you  at  Oundle  vicarage. 
Where  in  the  world  is  Oundlet  And  what  have  you  been  doing 
there?  You  appear  to  travel  about  a  good  deal.  When  I  see 
you  again  you  will  have  travelled  much  more  than  I  have,  though 
people  won't  think  so,  You  don't  mention  Miss  Wooler.  Have 
you  seen  her,  or  rather  do  you  see  her  when  you  come  home  from 
your  peregrinations  ? 

Good-bye,  dear  Ellen,  I  have  written  to  the  last  minute,  March 
3d/S4. — Yours  affectionately,  MARY  TAYLOR. 


Letter  655 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  March  u/,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  Mrs.  Richard 
Nussey  has  had  a  paralytic  stroke.  Is  this  true,  or  is  it  an  ex- 
aggerated account  ?  At  her  age  one  would  scarcely  have  expected 
an  attack  of  that  nature,  but  I  believe  paralysis  attacks  more 
persons  and  younger  persons  than  formerly.  A  clergyman  of 
not  more  than  thirty-five,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Skipton,  is 
entirely  disabled  from  duty  by  the  effects  of  a  paralytic  stroke. 
How  does  your  mother  continue  to  get  on?  Papa  has  so  far 
borne  the  winter  surprisingly  well  on  the  whole,  though  now  and 
then  he  still  complains  of  muscular  weakness,  and  other  slight 
symptoms  which  renew  anxiety.  Still  I  have  more  reason  for 
gratitude  than  fear  in  his  case.  Your  sister  Ann  it  seems  has 
consulted  Mr.  Teale— is  she  better  for  his  advice?  Last,  but  not 
least,  how  are  you  yourself? — Yours  affectionately, 

C.  BRONTE. 


350  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  656 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  March  *jth>  '54. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  very  glad  to  hear  Mrs.  Richard  is  pro- 
nounced out  of  danger.  It  is  well,  too,  that  the  brain  has  so  far 
escaped  serious  injury ;  it  seems  to  me  perhaps  the  worst  of  all 
dooms  for  the  death  of  the  mind  to  anticipate  that  of  the  body, 
yet,  sometimes  when  these  attacks  fall  chiefly  on  the  nervous 
system  a  state  of  irritation  follows  which  is  found  very  trying, 
not  only  for  the  poor  patient,  but  most  especially  for  friends. 
You  do  not  say  that  such  is  the  case  in  the  present  instance,  and 
I  hope  it  will  not  prove  so.  ... 

So  far  I  have  been  so  favoured  as  to  escape  severe  colds,  but 
my  headaches,  etc.,  still  at  times  harass  me  and  keep  me  thin. 
I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  that  your  mother,  Mr.  Clapham,  and 
Mercy  are  well,  and  that  your  sister  Ann  is  better.  Mr.  Teale 
will  do  a  good  deed  if  he  succeeds  in  curing  her.  Papa  still 
continues  well, — Believe  me,  my  dear  Ellen,  yours  affectionately, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  657 

TO  LJETITIA  WHEELWRIGHT 

HAWORTH,  March  i%th,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  LJETITIA, — I  was  very  glad  to  see  your  handwriting 
again ;  it  is,  I  believe,  a  year  since  I  heard  from  you.  Again 
and  again  you  have  recurred  to  my  thoughts  lately,  and  I  was 
beginning  to  have  some  sad  presages  as  to  the  cause  of  your 
silence.  Your  letter  happily  does  away  with  all  these  ;  it  brings, 
on  the  whole,  good  tidings  both  of  your  papa,  mamma,  your 
sister,  and,  last  but  not  least,  your  dear  respected  English  self. 

My  dear  father  has  borne  the  severe  winter  very  well,  a  circum- 
stance for  which  I  feel  the  more  thankful,  as  he  had  many  weeks 
of  very  precarious  health  last  summer,  following  an  attack  from 
which  he  suffered  last  June,  and  which  for  a  few  hours  deprived 
him  totally  of  sight,  though  neither  his  mind,  speech,  nor  even 
his  powers  of  motion  were  in  the  least  affected.  I  can  hardly 
tell  you  how  thankful  I  was,  dear  Laetitia,  when,  after  that  dreary 
and  almost  despairing  interval  of  utter  darkness,  some  gleam  of 


MARRIAGE  351 

daylight  became  visible  to  him  once  more.  I  had  feared  that 
paralysis  had  seized  the  optic  nerve.  A  sort  of  mist  remained 
for  a  long  time,  and  indeed  his  vision  is  not  yet  perfectly  clear, 
but  he  can  read,  write,  and  walk  about,  and  he  preaches  twice 
every  Sunday,  the  curate  only  reading  the  prayers.  ¥024  can  well 
understand  how  earnestly  I  pray  that  sight  may  be  spared  him  to 
the  end  ;  he  so  dreads  the  privation  of  blindness.  His  mind  is 
just  as  strong  and  active  as  ever,  and  politics  interest  him  as  they 
do  your  papa.  The  Czar,  the  war,  the  alliance  between  France 
and  England — into  all  these  things  he  throws  himself  heart  and 
soul.  They  seem  to  carry  him  back  to  his  comparatively  young 
days,  and  to  renew  the  excitement  of  the  last  great  European 
struggle.  Of  course,  my  father's  sympathies,  arid  mine  too,  are 
all  with  justice  and  Europe  against  tyranny  and  Russia. 

Circumstanced  as  I  have  been,  you  will  comprehend  that  I 
had  neither  the  leisure  nor  inclination  to  go  from  home  much 
during  the  past  year.  I  spent  a  week  with  Mrs.  Gaskell  in  the 
spring,  and  a  fortnight  with  some  other  friends  more  recently, 
and  that  includes  the  whole  of  my  visiting  since  I  saw  you  last 
My  life  is  indeed  very  uniform  and  retired,  more  so  than  is  quite 
healthful  either  for  mind  or  body;  yet  I  feel  reason  for  often 
renewed  feelings  of  gratitude  in  the  sort  of  support  which  still 
comes  and  cheers  me  from  time  to  time.  My  health,  though  not 
unbroken,  is,  I  sometimes  fancy,  rather  stronger  on  the  whole 
than  it  was  three  years  ago  ;  headache  and  dyspepsia  are  my 
worse  ailments.  Whether  I  shall  come  up  to  town  this  season 
for  a  few  days  I  do  not  yet  know ;  but  if  I  do  I  shall  hope  to  call 
in  Phillimore  Place.  With  kindest  remembrances  to  your  papa, 
mamma,  and  sisters, — I  am,  dear  Lsetitia,  affectionately  yours, 

C  BRONTE. 

Letter  658 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

March  zind,  1854. 

MY  BEAR  ELLEN, — I  put  off  writing  yesterday  because  I  had 
a  headache;  I  have  it  again  ta-day,  not  severe,  but  depressing. 
However,  I  will  write  a  few  lines,  and  if  they  are  inefficient  you 
will  know  the  reason. 

Miss  Wooler  kindly  asked  me  likewise  to  go  and  see  her  at 
Hornsea,  but  I  had  a  prior  engagement  this  month,  which,  how- 


352  THE  BRONTES 

ever,  it  seems  very  doubtful  whether  I  shall  keep.  It  would  have 
given  one  true  pleasure  to  have  joined  Miss  Wooler  had  not  my 
previous  promise  stood  in  the  way. 

I  was  very  glad  to  hear  of  Miss  Cockhill's  engagement ;  offer 
her  my  sincere  congratulations  on  the  subject.  I  don't  know 
John  Battye,  but  if  he  only  prove  as  kind  a  husband  as  I  feel 
sure  she  will  be  a  good  wife,  they  have  a  good  chance  of 
happiness. 

Mrs.  R.  Nussey's  convalescence  was  good  news  also.  I  trust 
she  will  now  steadily  improve,  and  many  years  may  elapse  before 
she  has  any  return.  The  third  stroke  of  paralysis  or  apoplexy 
is  generally  said  to  be  fatal,  but  there  is  an  instance  in  this 
neighbourhood  of  three  strokes  occurring  within  a  period  of 
twenty  years,  and  the  patient  lives  still,  and  is  indeed  almost 
entirely  recovered  from  the  effects  of  the  third  attack.  One  leg 
only  is  stiff  and  unmanageable,  but  he  can  walk  pretty  well. 

Be  sure  and  look  after  yourself,  dear  Ellen ;  mind  cold  and  the 
night-air.  Tell  me  if  you  are  in  good  spirits  when  you  write 
again.— Yours  affectionately,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  659 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  March  iSf%,  '54. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — The  enclosure  in  yours  of  yesterday  puzzled 
me  at  first,  for  I  did  not  immediately  recognise  my  own  hand- 
writing ;  when  I  did,  the  sensation  was  one  of  consternation  and 
vexation,  as  the  letter  ought  by  all  means  to  have  gone  on 
Friday.  It  was  intended  to  relieve  him  of  great  anxiety.  How- 
ever, I  trust  he  will  get  it  to-day,  and  on  the  whole,  when  I  think 
it  over,  I  can  only  be  thankful  that  the  mistake  was  no  worse, 
and  did  not  throw  the  letter  into  the  hands  of  some  indifferent 
and  unscrupulous  person.  I  wrote  it  after  some  days  of  indis- 
position and  uneasiness,  and  when  I  felt  weak  and  unfit  to  write. 
While  writing  to  him,  I  was  at  the  same  time  intending  to  answer 
your  note,  which  I  suppose  accounts  for  the  confusion  of  ideas, 
shown  in  the  mixed  and  blundering  address. 

I  wish  you  could  come  about  Easter  rather  than  at  another 
time,  for  this  reason — Mr.  Nicholls,  if  not  prevented,  proposes 
coming  over  then.  I  suppose  he  will  stay  at  Mr.  Grant's  as  he  has 


MARRIAGE  353 

done  two  or  three  times  before,  but  he  will  be  frequently  coming 
here,  which  would  enliven  your  visit  a  little.  Perhaps,  too,  he 
might  take  a  walk  with  us  occasionally.  Altogether  it  would  be 
a  little  change  ;  such  as,  you  know,  I  could  not  always  offer. 

If  all  be  well  he  will  come  under  different  circumstances  to  any 
that  have  attended  his  visits  before ;  were  it  otherwise  I  should 
not  ask  you  to  meet  him,  for  when  aspects  are  gloomy  and  un- 
propitious,  the  fewer  there  are  to  suffer  from  the  cloud  the  better. 

He  was  here  in  January  and  was  then  received,  but  not 
pleasantly,  I  trust  it  will  be  a  little  different  now. 

Papa  breakfasts  in  bed  and  has  not  yet  risen  ;  his  bronchitis  is 
still  troublesome.  I  had  a  bad  week  last  week,  but  am  greatly 
better  now,  for  my  mind  is  a  little  relieved,  though  very  sedate 
and  rising  only  to  expectations  the  most  moderate. 

Sometime,  perhaps  in  May,  I  may  hope  to  come  to  Brookroyd, 
but  as  you  will  understand  from  what  I  have  now  stated,  I  could 
not  come  before. 

Think  it  over,  dear  Nell,  and  come  to  Haworth  if  you  can. 
Write  as  soon  as  you  can  decide. — Yours  affectionately, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  660 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

April  isf,  '54. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — You  certainly  were  right  in  your  second 
interpretation  of  my  note ;  I  am  too  well  aware  of  the  dulness 
of  Haworth  for  any  visitor,  not  to  be  glad  to  avail  myself  of  the 
chance  of  offering  even  a  slight  change.  But  this  morning  my 
little  plans  have  been  disarranged  by  an  intimation  that  Mr. 
Nicholls  is  coming  on  Monday.  I  thought  to  put  him  off,  but 
have  not  succeeded.  As  Easter  now  consequently  seems  an 
unfavourable  period  both  from  your  point  of  view  and  mine,  we 
will  adjourn  it  till  a  better  opportunity  offers.  Meantime,  I 
thank  you,  dear  Ellen,  for  your  kind  offer  to  come  in  case  I 
wanted  you.  Papa  is  still  very  far  from  well,  his  cough  very 
troublesome  and  a  good  deal  of  inflammatory  action  in  the  chest. 
To-day  he  seems  somewhat  better  than  yesterday,  and  I  earnestly 
hope  the  improvement  may  continue. 

With  kind  regards  to  your  mother  and  all  at  Brookroyd, — I  am, 
dear  Ellen,  yours  affectionately,  C.  BRONTE. 

VOL.  II.  Z 


354  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  66 1 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  April  nf%,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Thank  you  for  the  collar ;  it  Is  very  pretty,  and 
I  will  wear  It  for  the  sake  of  her  who  made  and  gave  it 

Mr.  NIcholls  came  on  Monday,  and  was  here  all  last  week. 
Matters  have  progressed  thus  since  July.  He  renewed  his  visit 
in  September,  but  then  matters  so  fell  out  that  I  saw  little  of 
him.  He  continued  to  write.  The  correspondence  pressed  on 
my  mind.  I  grew  very  miserable  in  keeping  it  from  papa.  At 
last  sheer  pain  made  me  gather  courage  to  break  it.  I  told  all. 
It  was  very  hard  and  rough  work  at  the  time,  but  the  Issue  after 
a  few  days  was  that  I  obtained  leave  to  continue  the  communica- 
tion. Mr.  Nicholls  came  in  January ;  he  was  ten  days  in  the 
neighbourhood.  I  saw  much  of  him.  I  had  stipulated  with  papa 
for  opportunity  to  become  better  acquainted.  I  had  it,  and  all  I 
learnt  inclined  me  to  esteem  and  affection.  Still  papa  was  very, 
very  hostile,  bitterly  unjust 

I  told  Mr.  Nicholls  the  great  obstacle  that  lay  in  his  way.  He 
has  persevered.  The  result  of  this,  his  last  visit,  is,  that  papa's 
consent  is  gained,  that  his  respect,  I  believe,  is  won,  for  Mr. 
Nicholls  has  In  all  things  proved  himself  disinterested  and  for- 
bearing. Certainly  I  must  respect  him,  nor  can  I  withhold  from 
him  more  than  mere  cool  respect.  In  fact,  dear  Ellen,  I  am 
engaged. 

Mr.  Nicholls,  in  the  course  of  a  few  months,  will  return  to  the 
curacy  of  Haworth.  I  stipulated  that  I  would  not  leave  papa, 
and  to  papa  himself  I  proposed  a  plan  of  residence  which  should 
maintain  his  seclusion  and  convenience  uninvaded  and  in  a 
pecuniary  sense  bring  him  gain  instead  of  loss.  What  seemed 
at  one  time  impossible  is  now  arranged,  and  papa  begins  really  to 
take  a  pleasure  in  the  prospect 

For  myself,  dear  Ellen,  while  thankful  to  One  who  seems  to 
have  guided  me  through  much  difficulty,  much  and  deep  distress 
and  perplexity  of  mind,  I  am  still  very  calm,  very  inexpectant. 
What  I  taste  of  happiness  is  of  the  soberest  order.  I  trust  to 
love  my  husband.  I  am  grateful  for  his  tender  love  to  me.  I 
believe  him  to  be  an  affectionate,  a  conscientious,  a  high-prin- 
cipled man ;  and  if,  with  all  this,  I  should  yield  to  regrets,  that 


MARRIAGE  355 

fine  talents,  congenial  tastes  and  thoughts  are  not  added,  it  seems 
to  me  I  should  be  most  presumptuous  and  thankless. 

Providence  offers  me  this  destiny.  Doubtless  then  it  is  the 
best  for  me.  Nor  do  I  shrink  from  wishing  those  dear  to  me  one 
not  less  happy. 

It  is  possible  that  our  marriage  may  take  place  in  the  course 
of  the  summer.  Mr.  Nicholls  wishes  it  to  be  in  July.  He  spoke 
of  you  with  great  kindness,  and  said  he  hoped  you  would  be  at 
our  wedding.  I  said  I  thought  of  having  no  other  bridesmaid. 
Did  I  say  rightly?  I  mean  the  marriage  to  be  literally  as  quiet 
as  possible. 

Do  not  mention  these  things  just  yet.  I  mean  to  write  to 
Miss  Wooler  shortly.  Good-bye.  There  is  a  strange  half-sad 
feeling  in  making  these  announcements.  The  whole  thing  is 
something  other  than  imagination  paints  it  beforehand ;  cares, 
fears,  come  mixed  inextricably  with  hopes.  I  trust  yet  to  talk 
the  matter  over  with  you.  Often  last  week  I  wished  for  your 
presence,  and  said  so  to  Mr.  Nicholls,  Arthur  as  I  now  call  him, 
but  he  said  it  was  the  only  time  and  place  when  he  could  not 
have  wished  to  see  you.  Good-bye. — Yours  affectionately, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  662 

TO   MISS  WOOLER 

HAWORTH,  April  12^/2, 

MY  DEAR  MISS  WOOLER, — The  truly  kind  interest  which  you 
have  always  taken  in  my  affairs  makes  me  feel  that  it  is  due  to  you 
to  transmit  an  early  communication  on  a  subject  respecting  which 
I  have  already  consulted  you  more  than  once.  I  must  tell  you  then 
that  since  I  wrote  last  papa's  mind  has  gradually  come  round  to  a 
view  very  different  to  that  which  he  once  took ;  and  that  after 
some  correspondence,  and  as  the  result  of  a  visit  Mr.  Nicholls 
paid  here  about  a  week  ago,  it  was  agreed  that  he  was  to  resume 
the  curacy  of  Haworth,  as  soon  as  papa's  present  assistant  is 
provided  with  a  situation,  and  in  due  course  of  time  he  is  to  be 
received  as  an  inmate  into  this  house. 

It  gives  me  unspeakable  content  to  see  that  now  my  father  has 
once  admitted  this  new  view  of  the  case  he  dwells  on  it  very 
complacently.  In  all  arrangements  his  convenience  and  seclusion 
will  be  scrupulously  respected,  Mr.  Nicholls  seems  deeply  to  feel 


356  THE  BRONTES 

the  wish  to  comfort  and  sustain  his  declining  years.  I  think  from 
Mr.  Nicholls's  character  I  may  depend  on  this  not  being-  a  mere 
transitory,  impulsive  feeling,  but  rather  that  it  will  be  accepted 
steadily  as  a  duty,  and  discharged  tenderly  as  an  office  of  affection. 
The  destiny  which  Providence  in  His  goodness  and  wisdom  seems 
to  offer  me  will  not,  I  am  aware,  be  generally  regarded  as  brilliant, 
but  I  trust  I  see  in  it  some  germs  of  real  happiness.  I  trust  the 
demands  of  both  feeling  and  duty  will  be  in  some  measure  recon- 
ciled by  the  step  in  contemplation.  It  is  Mr.  Nicholls's  wish  that 
the  marriage  should  take  place  this  summer ;  he  urges  the  month 
of  July,  but  that  seems  very  soon. 

When  you  write  to  me,  tell  me  how  you  are.  ,  .  .  I  have  now 
decidedly  declined  the  visit  to  London  ;  the  ensuing  three  months 
will  bring  me  abundance  of  occupation  ;  I  could  not  afford  to 
throw  away  a  month.  .  .  .  Papa  has  just  got  a  letter  from  the 
good  and  dear  Bishop,  which  has  touched  and  pleased  us  much  ; 
it  expresses  so  cordial  an  approbation  of  Mr.  Nicholls's  return  to 
Haworth  (respecting  which  he  was  consulted),  and  such  kind 
gratification  at  the  domestic  arrangements  which  are  to  ensue.  It 
seems  his  penetration  discovered  the  state  of  things  when  he  was 
here  in  June  1853.  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  663 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

April  -L$th,  '54. 

MY  OWN  DEAR  NELL, — I  hope  to  see  you  somewhere  about  the 
second  week  in  May 

The  Manchester  visit  is  still  hanging  over  my  head.  I  have 
deferred  it,  and  deferred  it,  but  have  finally  promised  to  go  about 
the  beginning  of  next  month,  I  shall  only  stay  three  days,  then 
I  spend  two  or  three  days  at  Hunsworth,  then  come  to  Brook- 
royd.  The  three  visits  must  be  compressed  into  the  space  of  a 
fortnight,  if  possible. 

I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  go  to  Leeds.  My  purchases  cannot 
be  either  expensive  or  extensive.  You  must  just  resolve  in  your 
head  the  bonnets  and  dresses ;  something  that  can  be  turned  to 
decent  use  and  worn  after  the  wedding-day  will  be  best  I  think. 

I  wrote  immediately  to  Miss  Wooler  and  received  a  truly  kind 
letter  from  her  this  morning.  If  you  think  she  would  like  to 
come  to  the  marriage,  I  will  not  fail  to  ask  her. 


MARRIAGE  357 

Papa's  mind  seems  wholly  changed  about  the  matter,  and  he 
has  said  both  to  me  and  when  I  was  not  there,  how  much  happier 
he  feels  since  he  allowed  all  to  be  settled.  It  is  a  wonderful 
relief  for  me  to  hear  him  treat  the  thing  rationally,  to  talk  over 
with  him  themes  on  which  once  I  dared  not  touch.  He  is  rather 
anxious  things  should  get  forward  now,  and  takes  quite  an 
interest  in  the  arrangement  of  preliminaries.  His  health  improves 
daily,  though  this  east  wind  still  keeps  up  a  slight  irritation  in 
the  throat  and  chest. 

The  feeling  which  had  been  disappointed  in  papa  was  ambi- 
tion, paternal  pride  ;  ever  a  restless  feeling,  as  we  all  know,  Now 
that  this  unquiet  spirit  is  exorcised,  justice,  which  was  once 
quite  forgotten,  is  once  more  listened  to ;  and  affection,  I  hope, 
resumes  some  power. 

My  hope  is  that  in  the  end  this  arrangement  will  turn  out  more 
truly  to  papa's  advantage  than  any  other  it  was  in  my  power  to 
achieve.  Mr.  Nicholls  in  his  last  letter  refers  touchingly  to  his 
earnest  desire  to  prove  his  gratitude  to  papa,  by  offering  support 
and  consolation  to  his  declining  age.  This  will  not  be  mere  talk 
with  him ;  he  is  no  talker,  no  dealer  in  professions. 

Dear  Nell,  I  will  write  no  more  at  present.  You  can  of  course 
tell  your  mother,  Mrs.  Clapham,  etc.,  the  Healds,  too,  if  you 
judge  proper  :  indeed,  I  now  leave  the  communication  to  you.  I 
know  you  will  not  obtrude  it  where  no  interest  would  be  taken.— 
Yours  affectionately,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  664 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

April  ^tk,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — I  have  delayed  writing  till  I  could  give  you 
some  clear  notion  of  my  movements.  If  all  be  well,  I  go  to 
Manchester  on  the  1st  of  May.  Thence,  on  Thursday,  to  Huns- 
worth  till  Monday,  when  (D.V.)  I  come  to  Brookroyd.  I  must  be 
at  home  by  the  close  of  the  week.  Papa,  thank  God !  continues 
to  improve  much.  He  preached  twice  on  Sunday  and  again  on 
Wednesday  and  was  not  tired  ;  his  mind  and  mood  are  different 
to  what  they  were,  so  much  more  cheerful  and  quiet.  I  trust  the 
illusions  of  ambition  are  quite  dissipated,  and  that  he  really  sees 
it  is  better  to  relieve  a  suffering  and  faithful  heart,  to  secure  its 
fidelity,  a  solid  good;  than  unfeelingly  to  abandon  one  who  is 


358  THE  BUONTES 

truly  attached  to  his  interest  as  well  as  mine,  and  pursue  some 
vain  empty  shadow. 

I  thank  you,  dear  Ellen,  for  your  kind  invitation  to  Mr. 
Nicholls.  He  was  asked  likewise  to  Manchester  and  Hunsworth. 
I  would  not  have  opposed  his  coming  had  there  been  no  real 
obstacle  to  the  arrangement;  certain  little  awkwardnesses  of 
feeling  I  would  have  tried  to  get  over  for  the  sake  of  introducing 
him  to  old  friends ;  but  it  so  happens  that  he  cannot  leave  on 
account  of  his  Rector's  absence.  Mr.  C.  will  be  in  town  with  his 
family  till  June,  and  he  always  stipulates  that  his  Curate  shall 
remain  at  Kirk-Smeaton  while  he  is  away. 

How  did  you  get  on  at  the  Oratorio  ?  And  what  did  Miss 
Wooler  say  to  the  proposal  of  being  at  the  wedding?  I  have 
many  points  to  discuss  when  I  see  you.  I  hope  your  mother  and 
all  are  well.  With  kind  remembrances  to  them,  and  true  love  to 
you,  I  am,  dear  Nell,  faithfully  yours,  C.  BRONTE. 

When  you  write,  address  me  at  Mrs.  Gaskell's,  Plymouth 
Grove,  Manchester. 

Letter  665 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HUNSWORTH,  May  6th,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — I  came  to  Hunsworth  on  Thursday  after- 
noon, and  if  all  be  well,  I  hope  to  come  to  Brookroyd  on  Monday 
just  in  time  for  tea. 

I  leave  you  to  judge  by  your  own  feelings  whether  I  long  to 
see  you  or  not. 

Amelia  tells  me  you  are  looking  well.  She  tells  me  also  that 
I  am  not ;  rather  ugly  as  usual :  but  never  mind  that,  dear  Ellen, 
as  indeed  you  never  did.  On  the  whole  I  feel  very  decently  at 
present,  and  within  the  last  fortnight  have  had  much  respite  from 
headache. 

You  are  kind  to  be  so  much  in  earnest  in  wishing  Mr.  Nicholls 
to  come  to  Brookroyd,  and  I  am  sorry  that  circumstances  do  not 
favour  such  a  step,  but  knowing  how  matters  stood,  I  did  not 
repeat  the  proposal  to  him,  for  I  thought  it  would  be  like 
tempting  him  to  forget  duty. 

No  more  at  present,  dear  Nell,  except  love  to  all — Yours 
affectionately,  C  BRONTE. 


MARRIAGE  359 


Letter  666 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  May  14^,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN,— I  took  the  time  of  the  Leeds  and  Skipton 
trains  from  Mr.  C.7s  February  Time-Table,  and  when  I  got  to 
Leeds,  found  myself  all  wrong  ;  the  trains  are  changed,  one  had 
that  moment  left  the  station,  indeed  it  was  just  steaming  away, 
there  was  not  another  till  a  quarter  after  five  o'clock ;  so  I  had 
just  four  hours  to  sit  and  twirl  my  thumbs.  I  got  over  the  time 
somehow,  but  I  was  vexed  to  think  how  much  more  pleasantly 
I  might  have  spent  it  at  Brookroyd.  It  was  just  seven  when 
I  reached  home.  I  found  papa  well.  He  has  already  given 
Mr.  de  Renzi  notice.  That  gentleman  is  still  perfectly  smooth 
and  fair  spoken  to  papa.  He  never  told  him  a  word  of  what  he 
has  written  to  Mr.  Nicholls. 

Dear  Ellen,  I  could  not  leave  you  with  a  very  quiet  mind,  or 
take  away  a  satisfied  feeling  about  you.  Not  that  I  think  that 
bad  cough  lodged  in  a  dangerous  part,  but  it  wears  you  and  makes 
you  look  ill.  Take  care,  do,  dear  Nell,  observe  precaution. 
Believe  me  it  does  not  do  at  present  to  be  exposed  to  variations 
of  temperature.  I  send  the  [white  lace]  mantle  with  this,  but  I 
have  made  up  my  mind  not  to  let  you  have  the  cushion  [pattern] 
now,  lest  you  should  sit  stitching  over  it  too  closely.  It  will  do 
any  time,  and  whenever  it  comes  it  will  be  your  present  all  the 
same.  Write  soon,  and  believe  me,  faithfully  yours, 

C.  BRONTE. 

Remember  me  to  all  at  Brookroyd,  and  thank  them  for  their 
kindness  of  word  and  deed. 

Letter  667 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

May  und)  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— I  wonder  how  you  are,  and  whether  that 
harassing  cough  is  better.  Be  scrupulously  cautious  about  undue 
exposure.  Just  now,  dear  Ellen,  an  hour's  inadvertence  might 
cause  you  to  be  really  ill.  So  once  again,  take  care.  Since  I 
came  home  I  have  been  very  busy  stitching ;  the  little  new  room 


360  THE  BRONTES 

is  got  into  order,  and  the  green  and  white  curtains  are  up  ;  they 
exactly  suit  the  papering,  and  look  neat  and  clean  enough.  I  had 
a  letter  a  day  or  two  since  announcing  that  Mr.  Nicholls  comes 
to-morrow.  I  feel  anxious  about  him,  more  anxious  on  one  point 
than  I  dare  quite  express  to  myself.  It  seems  he  has  again  been 
suffering  sharply  from  his  rheumatic  affection.  I  hear  this  not 
from  himself,  but  from  another  quarter.  He  was  ill  while  I  was 
at  Manchester  and  Brookroyd.  He  uttered  no  complaint  to  me, 
dropped  no  hint  on  the  subject.  Alas!  he  was  hoping  he  had 
got  the  better  of  it,  and  I  know  how  this  contradiction  of  his 
hopes  will  sadden  him.  For  unselfish  reasons  he  did  so  earnestly 
wish  this  complaint  might  not  become  chronic.  I  fear,  I  fear. 
But,  however,  I  mean  to  stand  by  him  now,  whether  in  weal  or 
woe,  This  liability  to  rheumatic  pain  was  one  of  the  strong 
arguments  used  against  the  marriage.  It  did  not  weigh  somehow. 
If  he  is  doomed  to  suffer,  it  seems  that  so  much  the  more  will  he 
need  care  and  help.  And  yet  the  ultimate  possibilities  of  such 
a  case  are  appalling.  You  remember  your  aunt.  Well,  come 
what  may,  God  help  and  strengthen  both  him  and  me.  I  look 
forward  to  to-morrow  with  a  mixture  of  impatience  and  anxiety. 
Poor  fellow !  I  want  to  see  with  my  own  eyes  how  he  is. 

It  is  getting  late  and  dark.  Write  soon,  dear  Ellen.  Good- 
night and  God  bless  you. — Yours  affectionately, 

C  BRONTE. 

Letter  668 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  May  27^,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Your  letter  was  very  welcome,  and  I  am  glad 
and  thankful  to  learn  you  are  better.  Still,  beware  of  presuming 
on  the  improvement,  don't  let  it  make  you  careless.  Mr.  Nicholls 
has  just  left  me.  Your  hopes  were  not  ill  founded  about  his  ill- 
ness. At  first  I  was  thoroughly  frightened.  However,  inquiring 
gradually  relieved  me.  In  short,  I  soon  discovered  that  my 
business  was,  instead  of  sympathy,  to  rate  soundly.  The  patient 
had  wholesome  treatment  while  he  was  at  Haworth,  and  went 
away  singularly  better  ;  perfectly  unreasonable,  however,  on  some 
points,  as  his  fallible  sex  are  not  ashamed  to  be. 

Man  is  indeed  an  amazing  piece  of  mechanism  when  you  see, 
so  to  speak,  the  full  weakness  of  what  he  calls  his  strength. 


MARRIAGE  361 

There  is  not  a  female  child  above  the  age  of  eight  but  might 
rebuke  him  for  spoilt  petulance  of  his  wilful  nonsense.  I  bought 
a  border  for  the  table-cloth  and  have  put  it  on. 

Good-bye,  dear  Ellen,  write  again  soon  and  mind  and  give  a 
bulletin. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  669 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,yi«7Z£  y/7z,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  very  glad  and  thankful  to  hear  you 
continue  better.  I  was  very  miserable  about  papa  again  some 
days  ago.  While  the  weather  was  so  sultry  and  electric,  about  a 
week  since,  he  was  suddenly  attacked  with  deafness,  and  com- 
plained of  other  symptoms  which  showed  the  old  tendency  to  the 
head.  His  spirits  too  became  excessively  depressed,  it  was  all  I 
could  do  to  keep  him  up,  and  soon  I  was  sad  and  apprehensive 
myself.  The  change  to  cooler  weather  has  suited  him,  the  tem- 
porary deafness  has  quite  disappeared,  and  his  head  is  again  clear 
and  cool.  I  can  only  earnestly  trust  he  will  continue  better.  Mr. 
de  Renzi's  aim  is  to  leave  papa  without  curate  for  some  weeks. 
Good-bye  for  the  present. 

My  kind  regards  to  all  at  Brookroyd.  Thank  you  for  ordering 
another  fifty  cards. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  670 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

June  12th,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Papa  preached  twice  to-day  as  well  and  as 
strongly  as  ever.  It  is  strange  how  he  varies,  how  soon  he  is 
depressed  and  how  soon  revived,  It  makes  me  feel  so  thankful 
when  he  is  better.  I  am  thankful  too  that  you  are  stronger,  dear 
Nell.  My  worthy  acquaintance  at  Kirk-Smeaton  refuses  to  ac- 
knowledge himself  better  yet  I  am  uneasy  about  not  writing  to 
Miss  Wooler.  I  fear  she  will  think  me  negligent,  while  I  am  only 
busy  and  bothered.  I  want  to  clear  up  my  needlework  a  little, 
and  have  been  sewing  against  time  since  I  was  at  Brookroyd. 
Mr.  Nicholls  hindered  me  a  full  week. 

I  like  the  card  very  well,  but  not  the  envelope.  I  should  like  a 
perfectly  plain  envelope  with  a  silver  initial. 


362  THE  BRONTES 

I  got  my  dresses  from  Halifax  a  day  or  two  since,  but  have  not 
had  time  to  have  them  unpacked,  so  I  don't  know  what  they  are 
like. 

Next  time  I  write,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  give  you  clear  informa- 
tion, and  to  beg  you  to  come  here  without  further  delay.  Good- 
bye, dear  Nell— Yours  faithfully,  C.  BRONTE. 

Letter  671 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

June  i6th,  '54. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — Can  you  come  next  Wednesday  or  Thurs- 
day? I  am  afraid  circumstances  will  compel  me  to  agree  to  an 
earlier  day  than  I  wished.  I  sadly  wished  to  defer  it  till  the  2nd 
week  in  July,  but  I  fear  it  must  be  sooner,  the  ist  week  in  July, 
possibly  the  last  week  in  June,  for  Mr.  de  Renzi  has  succeeded 
in  obtaining  his  holiday,  and  whereas  his  quarter  will  not  be  up 
till  the  20th  of  August,  he  leaves  on  the  25th  June.  This  gives 
rise  to  much  trouble  and  many  difficulties  as  you  may  imagine, 
and  papa's  whole  anxiety  now  is  to  get  the  business  over.  Mr. 
Nicholls  with  his  usual  trustworthiness  takes  all  the  trouble  of 
providing  substitutes  on  his  own  shoulders. 

I  write  to  Miss  Wooler  to-day.  Would  it  not  be  better,  dear 
Nell,  if  you  and  she  could  arrange  to  come  to  Haworth  on  the 
same  day,  arrive  at  Keighley  by  the  same  train,  then  I  could  order 
the  cab  to  meet  you  at  the  station  and  bring  you  on  with  your 
luggage.  In  this  hot  weather,  walking  would  be  quite  out  of  the 
question,  either  for  you  or  her,  and  I  know  she  would  persist  in 
doing  it  if  left  to  herself,  and  arrive  half-killed.  I  thought  it 
better  to  mention  this  arrangement  to  you  first,  and  then  if  you 
liked  it,  you  could  settle  the  time,  etc.,  with  Miss  Wooler  and  let 
me  know.  Be  sure  to  give  me  timely  information  that  I  may 
write  to  the  Devonshire  Arms  about  the  cab. 

Mr.  Nicholls  is  a  kind  considerate  fellow,  with  all  his  masculine 
faults  in  some  points ;  he  enters  into  my  wishes  about  having  the 
thing  done  quietly  in  a  way  which  makes  me  grateful,  and  if 
nobody  interferes  and  spoils  his  arrangements,  he  will  manage  so 
that  not  a  soul  in  Haworth  shall  be  aware  of  the  day.  He  is  so 
thoughtful  too  about  'the  ladies/  i.e.  you  and  Miss  Wooler, 
— anticipating  the  very  arrangements  I  was  going  to  propose  to 
him  about  providing  for  your  departure,  etc. 


MARRIAGE  363 

He  and  Mr.  Sowden  will  come  to  Mr.  Grant's  the  evening 
before  ;  write  me  a  note  to  let  me  know  they  are  there.  Precisely 
at  8  in  the  morning  they  will  be  in  the  Church,  and  there  we  are 
to  meet  them.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grant  are  asked  to  the  breakfast, 
not  the  ceremony. 

Let  me  hear  from  you  as  soon  as  possible,  dear  Nell,  and  believe 
me  faithfully  yours,  C.  BRONTE. 

I  had  almost  forgotten  to  mention  about  the  envelopes. 
Mr.  Nicholls  says  I  have  ordered  far  too  few,  he  thinks  sixty  will 
be  wanted.  Is  it  too  late  to  remedy  this  error?  There  is  no 
end  to  his  string  of  parson-friends.  My  own  list  I  have  not 
made  out. 

Charlotte  Bronte's  list  of  friends,  to  whom  wedding- 
cards  were  to  be  sent,  is  in  her  own  handwriting,  and  is 
not  without  interest : — 

SEND  CARDS  TO 

The  Rev.  W.  Morgan,  Rectory,  Hulcott,  Aylesbury,  Bucks. 

Joseph  Branwell,  Esq.,  Thamar  Terrace,  Launceston,  Cornwall, 

Dr.  Wheelwright,  29  Phillimore  Place,  Kensington,  London. 

George  Smith,  Esq.,  65  Cornhill,  London. 

Mrs.  and  Misses  Smith,  65  Cornhill,  London. 

W.  S.  Williams,  Esq.,  65  Cornhill,  London. 

R.  Monckton  Milnes,  Esq. 

Mrs,  Gaskell,  Plymouth  Grove,  Manchester. 

Francis  Bennoch,  Esq.,  Park,  Blackheath,  London. 

George  Taylor,  Esq.,  Stanbury. 

Mrs.  and  Miss  Taylor. 

H.  Merrall,  Esq.,  Lea  Sykes,  Haworth. 

E.  Merrall,  Esq.,  Ebor  House,  Haworth. 

R.  Butterfield,  Esq.,  Woodlands,  Haworth. 

R.  Thomas,  Esq.,  Haworth. 

J.  Pickles,  Esq.,  Brow  Top,  Haworth. 

Wooler  Family. 

Brookroyd.1 

Here  is  Mrs.  GaskelFs  account  of  the  wedding.     One 

1  The  Nusseys. 


364  THE  BRONTES 

wishes  she  had  actually  been  present  as  erroneously  stated 
by  one  of  her  biographers  : — l 

It  was  fixed  that  the  marriage  was  to  take  place  on  June  29. 
Her  two  friends  arrived  at  Haworth  Parsonage  the  day  before ; 
and  the  long  summer  afternoon  and  evening  were  spent  by 
Charlotte  in  thoughtful  arrangements  for  the  morrow,  and  for  her 
father's  comfort  during  her  absence  from  home.  When  all  was 
finished — the  trunk  packed,  the  morning's  breakfast  arranged,  the 
wedding  dress  laid  out — just  at  bedtime,  Mr.  Bronte  announced 
his  intention  of  stopping  at  home  while  the  others  went  to  church. 
What  was  to  be  done?  Who  was  to  give  the  bride  away  ?  There 
were  only  to  be  the  officiating  clergyman,2  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom, the  bridesmaid,  and  Miss  Wooler  present  The  Prayer 
Book  was  referred  to ;  and  there  it  was  seen  that  the  rubric 
enjoins  that  the  minister  shall  receive  'the  woman  from  her 
father's  or  friend's  hand,'  and  that  nothing  is  specified  as  to  the 
sex  of  the  *  friend.'  So  Miss  Wooler,  ever  kind  in  emergency, 
volunteered  to  give  her  old  pupil  away. 

The  news  of  the  wedding  had  slipt  abroad  before  the  little 
party  came  out  of  church,  and  many  old  and  humble  friends  were 
there,  seeing  her  look  '  like  a  snowdrop,5  as  they  say.  Her  dress 
was  white  embroidered  muslin,  with  a  lace  mantle,  and  white 
bonnet  trimmed  with  green  leaves,  which  perhaps  might  suggest 
the  resemblance  to  the  pale  wintry  flower. 

The  following  letter  was  written  on  her  wedding-day, 
June  29,  1854:— 

Letter  672 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

Thursday  Evening. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  scribble  one  hasty  line  just  to  say  that  after 
a  pleasant  enough  journey,  we  have  got  safely  to  Conway;  the 
evening  is  wet  and  wild,  though  the  day  was  fair,  chiefly,  with 

1  Mr.  A.  W.  Ward,  in  the  Dictionary  of  National  Biography.     The  error  is  repeated 
in  the  Introduction  to  the  Knutsford  edition  of  the  Works  of  Mrs.  GaskelL 

2  The  officiating  priest  was  the  Rev.  Sutcliffe  Sowden.      He  and  his  brother,  the 
Rev.  George  Sowden  (1822-1899),  canon  of  Wakefield  Cathedral  and  vicar  of  Hebden 
Bridge,  Yorks,  were  the  most  intimate  friends  of  Mr.  Nicholls  at  the  time  of  his 
marriage. 


MARRIAGE  365 

sorre  gleams  of  sunshine.  However,  we  are  sheltered  in  a  com- 
fortable Inn,  My  cold  is  not  worse.  If  you  get  this  scrawl  to- 
morrow and  write  by  return,  direct  to  me  at  the  Post  Office, 
Bangor,  and  I  may  get  it  on  Monday.  Say  how  you  and  Miss 
Wooler  got  home,  Give  my  kindest  and  most  grateful  love  to 
Miss  Wooler  whenever  you  write.  On  Monday,  I  think,  we  cross 
the  Channel,  No  more  at  present—Yours  faithfully  and  lovingly, 

C.  B.  N. 

The  next  letter  is  dated  from  Banagher,  King's  County, 
Ireland,  whither  the  pair  wended  their  way  after  visiting 
Killarney,  Glengarriff,  and  Cork.  At  Banagher  lived  the 
Bells,  Mr.  Nicholls's  uncle  and  aunt,  and  Charlotte  Bronte 
stayed  on  her  honeymoon  in  the  very  house  in  which  I 
visited  Mr.  Nicholls  forty  years  later.  This  letter  was 
once  in  the  possession  of  the  editor,  but  is  now  lost,  and 
can  only  be  given  in  the  fragment  copied  by  Mrs.  Gaskell. 


Letter  673 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

BANAGHER,/^  — ,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN,— Some  parts  exceeded  all  I  had  ever  imagined, 
...  I  must  say  I  like  my  new  relations.  My  dear  husband,  too, 
appears  in  a  new  light  in  his  own  country.  More  than  once  I 
have  had  deep  pleasure  in  hearing  his  praises  on  all  sides.  Some 
of  the  old  servants  and  followers  of  the  family  tell  me  I  am  a 
most  fortunate  person ;  for  that  I  have  got  one  of  the  best  gentle- 
men in  the  country.  ...  I  trust  I  feel  thankful  to  God  for  having 
enabled  me  to  make  what  seems  a  right  choice ;  and  I  pray  to  be 
enabled  to  repay  as  I  ought  the  affectionate  devotion  of  a  truthful, 
honourable  man.  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS* 


366  THE  BRONTES 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

MARRIED  LIFE 

THE  married  life  of  Charlotte  Bronte  lasted  but  nine 
months  in  all,  but  that,  had  her  health  been  preserved, 
it  was  destined  to  be  happy  there  can  be  no  doubt  It 
has  often  been  suggested  that  Mr.  Nicholls  discouraged 
her  literary  effort,  but  this  he  strenuously  denied,  and 
his  statement  to  the  contrary  is  endorsed  by  the  discovery 
of  sundry  *  openings '  to  stories  written  during  these  few 
months.  It  is  further  urged — although  such  criticisms  are 
always  impertinences — that,  after  all,  he  was  not  the  ideal 
husband.  If  women  of  intellect  always  waited  for  the 
ideal  husband,  most  of  them  would  die  unmarried.  Clearly 
the  correspondence  of  these  last  months  breathes  a  less 
morbid  note  than  during  the  previous  year  or  two.  We 
may  leave  that  matter  with  the  remembrance  that  Charlotte 
Bronte  lived  up  to  the  adage,  that  in  marriage  it  is  better 
to  begin  with  a  little  aversion,  and  clearly  she  had  come 
to  love  her  husband  with  very  genuine  devotion.  Those 
who  knew  him  in  his  later  years  found  that  perfectly 
natural.  He  impressed  me  as  a  peculiarly  lovable  man. 

Letter  674 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  August  gth,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  earnestly  hope  you  are  by  yourself  now,  and 
relieved  from  the  fag  of  entertaining  guests.  You  do  not  com- 
plain,  but  I  am  afraid  you  have  had  too  much  of  it.  E,  S.  will 
probably  end  by  accepting  L.  K.,  and  judging  from  what  you  say, 


MARRIED  LIFE  367 

It  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be  rational  to  do  so.  If  indeed  some 
one  else  whom  she  preferred  wished  to  have  her,  and  had  duly  and 
sincerely  come  forward,  matters  would  be  different,  but  this  it 
appears  is  not  the  case,  and  to  cherish  any  ungrounded  and  un- 
sanctioned  preference  is  neither  right  nor  wise. 

Since  I  came  home,  I  have  not  had  an  unemployed  moment ; 
my  life  is  changed  indeed,  to  be  wanted  continually,  to  be  con- 
stantly called  for  and  occupied  seems  so  strange:  yet  it  is  a 
marvellously  good  thing.  As  yet  I  don't  quite  understand  how 
some  wives  grow  so  selfish.  As  far  as  my  experience  of  matrimony 
goes,  I  think  it  tends  to  draw  you  out  of  and  away  from  yourself. 

We  have  had  sundry  callers  this  week.  Yesterday,  Mr.  Sowden 
and  another  gentleman  dined  here,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grant  joined 
them  at  tea. 

I  do  not  think  we  shall  go  to  Brookroyd  soon,  on  papa's  account 
I  do  not  wish  again  to  leave  home  for  a  time,  but  I  trust  you  will 
ere  long  come  here. 

I  really  like  Mr.  Sowden  very  well.  He  asked  after  you.  Mr. 
Nicholls  told  him  we  expected  you  would  be  coming  to  stay  with 
us  in  the  course  of  three  or  four  weeks,  and  that  he  should  then 
invite  him  over  again  as  he  wished  us  to  take  sundry  rather  long 
walks,  and  as  he  should  have  his  wife  to  look  after,  and  she  was 
trouble  enough,  it  would  be  quite  necessary  to  have  a  guardian 
for  the  other  lady.  Mr.  Sowden  seemed  perfectly  acquiescent. 

Dear  Nell, — During  the  last  six  weeks  the  colour  of  my  thoughts 
is  a  good  deal  changed:  I  know  more  of  the  realities  of  life  than 
I  once  did.  I  think  many  false  ideas  are  propagated,  perhaps 
unintentionally.  I  think  those  married  women  who  indiscrimi- 
nately urge  their  acquaintance  to  marry,  much  to  blame.  For  my 
part,  I  can  only  say  with  deeper  sincerity  and  fuller  significance, 
what  I  always  said  in  theory,  *  Wait  God's  will.7  Indeed,  indeed, 
Nell,  it  is  a  solemn  and  strange  and  perilous  thing  for  a  woman  to 
become  a  wife.  Man's  lot  is  far,  far  different.  Tell  me  when  you 
think  you  can  come.  Papa  is  better,  but  not  well.  How  is  your 
mother?  give  my  love  to  her,  and  Ann  and  Mr.  Clapham,  and 
Mercy,  if  she  is  good.— Yours  faithfully,  C.  B.  NICHOLLS. 

Have  I  told  you  how  much  better  Mr.  Nicholls  is?  He  looks 
quite  strong  and  hale;  he  gained  12  Ibs.  during  the  four  weeks 
we  were  in  Ireland.  To  see  this  improvement  in  him  has  been  a 
main  source  of  happiness  to  me,  and  to  speak  truth,  a  subject  of 
wonder  too. 


368  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  675 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  August  292$. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Can  you  come  here  on  Wednesday  week  (Sept 
6th)?  Try  to  arrange  matters  to  do  so  if  possible,  for  it  will  be 
better  than  to  delay  your  visit  till  the  days  grow  cold  and  short. 
I  want  to  see  you  again,  dear  Nell,  and  my  husband  too  will  receive 
you  with  pleasure,  and  he  is  not  diffuse  of  his  courtesies  or  par- 
tialities, I  can  assure  you.  One  friendly  word  from  him  means  as 
much  as  twenty  from  most  people. 

We  have  been  busy  lately  giving  a  Supper  and  Tea-drinking 
to  the  Singers,  Ringers,  Sunday-school  Teachers,  and  all  the 
Scholars  of  the  Sunday  and  National  Schools,  amounting  in  all 
to  some  500  souls.  It  gave  satisfaction  and  went  off  well. 

Papa,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  is  much  better ;  he  preached  last 
Sunday.  How  does  your  mother  bear  this  hot  weather  ?  Write 
soon,  dear  Nell,  and  say  you  will  come. — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  B.  N. 

Letter  676 

TO  MISS  WOOLER 

September — ,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  MISS  WOOLER, — I  really  seem  to  have  had  scarcely 
a  spare  moment  since  that  dim,  quiet  June  morning  when  you, 
Ellen,  and  myself  all  walked  down  to  Haworth  Church.  Not  that 
I  have  been  wearied  or  oppressed ;  but  the  fact  is  my  time  is  not 
my  own  now ;  somebody  else  wants  a  good  portion  of  it,  and  says, 
' We  must  do  so  and  so.3  We  do  so  and  so,  accordingly;  and  it 
generally  seems  the  right  thing.  .  .  .  We  have  had  many  callers 
from  a  distance,  and  latterly  some  little  occupation  in  the  way  of 
preparing  for  a  small  village  entertainment  Both  Mr.  Nicholls 
and  myself  wished  much  to  make  some  response  for  the  hearty 
welcome  and  general  goodwill  shown  by  the  parishioners  on  his 
return ;  accordingly  the  Sunday  and  day  scholars  and  teachers, 
the  church  ringers,  singers,  etc.,  to  the  number  of  five  hundred, 
were  asked  to  tea  and  supper  in  the  schoolroom.  They  seemed 
to  enjoy  it  much,  and  it  was  very  pleasant  to  see  their  happiness. 
One  of  the  villagers,  in  proposing  my  husband's  health,  described 


MARRIED  LIFE  369 

him  as  a  '  consistent  Christian  and  a  kind  gentleman!  I  own  the 
words  touched  me  deeply,  and  I  thought  (as  I  know  you  would 
have  thought  had  you  been  present)  that  to  merit  and  win  such  a 
character  was  better  than  to  earn  either  wealth,  or  fame,  or  power. 
I  am  disposed  to  echo  that  high  but  simple  eulogium.  .  .  .  My 
dear  father  was  not  well  when  we  returned  from  Ireland.  I  am, 
however,  most  thankful  to  say  that  he  is  better  now.  May  God 
preserve  him  to  us  yet  for  some  years !  The  wish  for  his  con- 
tinued life,  together  with  a  certain  solicitude  for  his  happiness  and 
health,  seems,  I  scarcely  know  why,  even  stronger  in  me  now  than 
before  I  was  married.  Papa  has  taken  no  duty  since  we  returned  ; 
and  each  time  I  see  Mr.  Nicholls  put  on  gown  or  surplice  I  feel 
comforted  to  think  that  this  marriage  has  secured  papa  good  aid 
in  his  old  age.  C  BRONTE. 

Some  letters  from  Mary  Taylor  to  Ellen  Nussey 
naturally  come  here.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Miss 
Nussey  had  contemplated  the  post  of  companion  to  a 
Mrs.  Upjohn  at  Gorleston  upon  conditions  \vhich  made 
her  consult  her  two  friends.  We  have  seen  Charlotte 
Bronte's  letters  upon  the  point.  Here  is  Mary  Taylor's 
sarcastic  treatment  of  the  matter. 


Letter  677 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

W ELLINGTON,  July  2l$t,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  CLERGYMAN  AND  MRS.  CLERGYMAN,— I  have 
received  your  letter  expressing  a  wish  to  have  my  services  as 
companion.  Your  terms  are  so  indefinite  and  so  low  that  I  had 
rather  have  nothing  to  do  with  you.  As  I  understand  your  pro- 
posal, you  offer  me  board  and  lodging,  but  no  clothes  or  means  of 
getting  any.  If  you  intend  providing  my  dress,  I  should  like  to 
know  what  liberty  I  should  have  in  the  choice  and  make,  and  who 
had  worn  the  things  before  me,  tho'  I  must  say  this  would  not 
alter  my  refusal  of  your  offer,  as  I  should  still  not  be  so  well  off 
as  a  servant-girl,  The  pecuniary  advantages  you  offer  at  some 
future  time  I  consider  worth  nothing.  They  are  quite  indefinite  ; 

VOL,  II,  2  A 


370  THE  BRONTES 

the  time  when  I  am  to  receive  them  is  too  far  off,  and  the  condi- 
tion that  you  make — that  you  must  be  dead  before  I  can  profit 
by  them — decides  me  to  refuse  them  altogether. 

Your  letter  is  as  indefinite  about  the  services  you  require  as 
about  the  wages  you  offer.  As  to  the  companionship,  affection, 
etc.,  I  have  very  little  to  offer  to  a  stranger,  and  'it  strikes  me  I 
should  never  have  much  for  you.  Your  coarseness  of  feeling  that 
allows  you  to  pay  me  the  greater  part  of  my  wages  only  after  your 
death,  your  evident  dishonesty  in  leaving  the  engagement  so  in- 
definite that  I  might  do  two  women's  work  for  twenty  years  to 
come  and  then  have  no  legal  claim  on  you  or  your  heirs,  your 
evident  notion  that  an  expensive  dress  and  diet  is  to  compensate 
for  the  absence  of  money  wages,  all  make  me  think  that  your 
feelings,  principles,  and  pleasures  are  very  different  to  mine,  and 
there  could  be  no  companionship  in  the  case.  As  to  my  services, 
I  would  not  give  them  without  certain  money  wages  paid  quar- 
terly, and  certain  time  to  be  at  my  own  disposal.  These  are  what 
every  servant  gets,  and  I  should  want  something  more. 

Yours. 

May. 

Dear  Ellen, — Here's  my  opinion  on  the  impudent  proposal  you 
mention  in  your  letter,  which  I  received  this  morning  along  with 
one  from  Amelia.  All  your  news  is  very  interesting,  particularly 
that  concerning  Amelia,  Joe,  and  Charlotte.  My  last  letters  told 
quite  a  contrary  tale.  They  were  none  of  them  well,  and  that  was 
proved  more  by  their  low  spirits  than  their  complaints.  I  Ve  no 
doubt  Tim  is  a  little  pest,  as  Joe  says,  but  that  is  no  reason  why 
it  should  not  be  brought  up  healthily  if  possible.  I  am  sorry  to 
hear  its  intellect  is  so  forward ;  it  ought  to  look  stupid  and  get 
fat. 

June  26. 

I  have  kept  my  letter  back  because  I  had  not  said  all  I  had  to 
say,  and  now  it's  gone  out  of  my  head.  Since  then  I  have 
received  a  letter  from  you,  dated  7th  October  1852.  It  came  along 
with  some  from  Hunsworth  of  2oth  and  23rd  February  1853,  and 
one  from  John,  dated  2Oth  October  1852.  You  mention  Mr. 
Bronte's  illness  and  Charlotte  Bronte's  liver  complaint.  I  had 
heard  of  them  both,  but  not  from  her.  I  did  not  know  her 
liver  complaint  still  continued,  and  since  the  date  of  yours  I 


MARRIED  LIFE  371 

hear  from  Amelia  that  you  and  she  have  been  at  Hun.,  and 
Charlotte  Bronte  was  very  well  indeed.  How  are  you  all  now 
I  wonder  ? 

I  hear — I  mean  read — that  there  is  a  box  full  of  treasures  on 
the  way  to  me  per  Maori,  now  at  Nelson.  All  the  sailors  have 
-run  away — very  sensible  of  them  when  they  are  probably  for  £2 
a  month,  and  by  keeping  out  of  sight  till  the  Maori  is  gone,  can 
hire  themselves  here  for  £y.  They — I  don't  mean  the  sailors — 
'have  got  some  Maoris  to  land  the  cargo,  but  as  they  can't  per- 
suade them  to  go  up  aloft,  there  is  no  knowing  when  the  ship  can 
-come  on  here. 

Well,  in  the  said  box  is  a  pair  of  lace  cuffs  from  you  for  me  to 
wear  '  when  I  go  to  a  dance.'  Do  you  think  I  go  once  a  week  to 
a  dance?  I  am  very  curious  to  see  them,  and  particularly  to 
know  if  the  fashion  of  them  is  still  unknown  here — in  which  case 
they  will  certainly  set  me  up  for  a  twelvemonth.  It  is  a  great 
mercy  and  a  particular  favour  of  Providence  that  they  were  not 
.sent  in  the  Mahomet  Shaft. 

I  go  to  a  dance  now  and  then.  I  get  an  invitation  from  some- 
body in  the  name  of  some  'party'  or  parties  unknown.  We 
dance  at  the  Hall  of  the  Athenaeum,  hired  and  decorated  with 
flags  and  green  stuff  for  the  occasion.  We  muster  about  25 
couples,  dance  with  great  gravity,  and  call  ourselves  very  select, 
The  thing  is  managed  by  some  second-  and  third-rate  bachelors 
who  don't  know  how  to  give  their  invites  properly  in  a  body,  and 
individually  had  rather  not  *  come  forward/ 

My  best  amusement  is  to  put  on  a  hood — such  as  children  wear, 
,and  very  common  here  for  grown  people — and  go  after  I've 
shut  up  at  night,  and  gossip  with  a  neighbour.  I  have  four  or  five 
houses  where  I  do  this,  and  talk  more  real  talk  in  an  hour  than  all 
the  night  at  a  dance. 

July  2. 

I  have  just  found  out  it  was  not  you  but  Amelia  that  sent  me 
the  lace  cuffs,  and  you  and  Charlotte  Bronte  concocted  the  rest 
•of  the  box.  I  have  no  doubt  I  shall  approve  of  your  choice,  as 
Amelia  says.  Were  you  all  together  in  the  little  room  at 
Hunsworth?  Giving  her  your  advice?  Mind,  if  the  dress  is 
scarlet  or  pale  green,  I  '11  never  forgive  you. 

I  folded  this  letter  once  without  putting  my  name  to. 

Don't  go  and  live  with  Mrs.  Clergyman.  M.  TAYLOR. 


372  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  678 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

WELLINGTON,  August  loth,  1854.. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — My  conscience  has  been  reproaching  me  for 
this  last  month  for  neglecting  my  correspondence.  I  have  done 
neither  that  nor  anything  else  except  what  I  could  not  shirk. 
Without  being  positively  ill,  I  have  been  dull  and  indifferent  to 
everything  but  new  arrivals  or  something  equally  important  I 
have  cured  myself,  or  at  least  bettered  myself  for  the  present, 
having  a  'clean  down,' and  have  just  taken  out  a  bundle  that 
ought  to  have  been  answered  long  since. 

I  am  very  well  content  with  my  dresses  and  bonnets,  and  more 
thankful  than  you  would  think  to  be  saved  the  trouble  and  respon- 
sibility of  dressing  myself.  Neither  of  the  dresses  fit — it  would 
be  a  wonder  if  they  did.  They  are  rather  too  expensive  for  my 
habits,  and  make  rather  a  contrast  to  my  usual  wear.  The  last 
bonnet  fitted  my  face  to  a  T,  and  was  altogether  a  hit,  being 
neither  too  good  nor  too  flimsy,  nor  too  wintry  nor  too  summery. 
The  one  before  it  (blue  satin)  I  sold ;  it  being  only  fit  for  winter,, 
and  likely  to  last  me,  at  the  rate  I  should  wear  it,  about  six  years. 

I  thank  you  for  your  information  in  medical  matters.  It  is  so 
difficult  a  thing  for  women  to  get,  that  it  is  a  particular  favour 
to  come  by  any  at  a  less  expense  than  an  illness  of  one's  own. 
From  Amelia's  last  letter  I  learn  that  you  had  been,  or  were,  ill,. 
and  she  could  not  see  you,  being  confined  herself  to  the  sofa.  I 
am  afraid  myself  that  you  have  more  courage  than  good  fortune, 
and  that  your  illness  has  not  been  so  temporary  as  you  hoped  in 
your  letter  that  it  would  be. 

We  have  lately  had  a  wonder  here — viz.  a  steamer.  Not  a  war 
steamer,  but  a  merchant  vessel.  We  thought  so  much  of  it  that 
the  authorities  agreed  with  the  owners  to  hire  it  for  twelve  months 
certain,  to  ply  between  the  N.Z.  ports.  Two  days  ago  carne 
another  wonder  on  the  top  of  the  first  one — another  steamer- 
walked  in,  coming  from  Sydney  vtd  Auckland.  This  one  is  likely 
to  be  a  trader  between  here  and  Australia.  This  last  one  coming- 
in  met  the  other  going  out,  so  we  had  two  in  sight  at  once,  a  thing: 
that  has  never  happened  before. 

We  are  in  general  thriving— that  is,  commercially,  for  as  to 
health  the  place  is  worse  off  than  usual.  I  suppose  it  is  time  for 


MARRIED  LIFE  373 

the  cholera  to  have  come  round  to  us,  and  though  we  have  not 
got  it,  we  have  some  change  in  the  air  or  climate  which  makes  the 
place  unhealthy.  We  have  scarlatina,  influenza,  etc.  Your  last 
letter  has  little  news,  and  that  not  lively.  I  fear  the  confinement 
and  dulness  of  illness  will  cast  down  your  spirits  in  spite  of  your 
good  intentions.  I  wish  this  letter  could  raise  them  for  you. 
You  are  certainly  better  at  home  when  out  of  health,  even  when 
without  any  definite  illness  to  complain  of.  It  is  in  this  state  that 
one  feels  the  misery  of  that  service  that  requires  you  not  to  do 
anything,  but  to  be  at  the  beck  of  another  person,  and  no  liberty 
even  to  be  alone.  Ten  hours'  work  at  breaking  stones  is  not  such 
a  burden  as  this,  if  you  only  have  the  other  fourteen  to  yourself, 
with  or  without  the  '  comforts  of  a  home.' 

Amelia's  letter  speaks  of  little  but  illness — and  Tim  ;  she  calls 
Tim  of a  forgiving  disposition.  It  is  amusing  to  think  of  her  not 
venturing  to  vex  the  child  for  fear  it  should  be  angry,  and  then, 
when  the  baby  fit  of  passion  was  over,  breaking  out  into  praise  of 
its  forgiving  disposition !  Children  don't  forgive,  they  forget. 
And  many  full-grown  people  who  get  praise  for  being  placable 
are  children  in  this  respect.  To  forgive  requires  a  mind  full 
grown,  which  does  not  always  exist  in  a  full-grown  body. 

MARY  TAYLOR. 

Letter  679 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  September  72$,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  send  a  French  paper  to-day.  You  would 
almost  think  I  had  given  them  up,  it  is  so  long  since  one  was 
despatched.  The  fact  is  they  had  accumulated  to  quite  a  pile 
during  my  absence.  I  wished  to  look  them  over  before  sending 
them  off,  and  as  yet  I  have  scarcely  found  time.  That  same 
Time  is  an  article  of  which  I  once  had  a  large  stock  always  on 
hand ;  where  it  is  all  gone  now  it  would  be  difficult  to  say,  but 
my  moments  are  very  fully  occupied,  Take  warning,  Ellen,  the 
married  woman  can  call  but  a  very  small  portion  of  each  day  her 
own.  Not  that  I  complain  of  this  sort  of  monopoly  as  yet,  and 
I  hope  I  never  shall  incline  to  regard  it  as  a  misfortune,  but  it 
certainly  exists.  We  were  both  disappointed  that  you  could  not 
come  on  the  day  I  mentioned.  I  have  grudged  this  splendid 
weather  very  much,  the  moors  are  in  glory,  I  never  saw  them  fuller 


374  THE  BRONTES 

of  purple  bloom.  I  wanted  you  to  see  them  at  their  best ;  they  are 
just  turning  now,  and  in  another  week,  I  fear,  will  be  faded  and 
sere.  As  soon  as  ever  you  can  leave  home,  be  sure  to  write  and 
let  me  know. 

I  am  afraid  Amelia  continues  to  get  on  but  poorly.  At  least  I 
had  a  grievous  letter  from  her  a  day  or  two  since  detailing  a  visit 
from  Dr.  Henriquez,  whom  it  appears  she  felt  herself  under  the 
necessity  of  summoning  down  from  London.  I  wish  her  nervous- 
system,  or  whatever  is  wrong  with  her,  could  get  into  better  order. 

Papa  continues  greatly  better ;  my  husband  flourishes,  he  begins- 
indeed  to  express  some  slight  alarm  at  the  growing  improvement 
in  his  condition.  I  think  I  am  decent,  better  certainly  than  I  was 
two  months  ago ;  but  people  don't  compliment  me  as  they  do 
Arthur,  excuse  the  name,  it  has  grown  natural  to  use  it  now.  I 
trust,  dear  Nell,  that  you  are  all  well  at  Brookroyd,  and  that  your 
visiting  stirs  are  pretty  nearly  over.  I  compassionate  you  from  my 
heart  for  all  the  trouble  to  which  you  must  be  put,  and  I  am  rather 
ashamed  of  people  coming  sponging  in  that  fashion  one  after 
another;  get  away  from  them  and  come  here. — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

How  does  the  romance  of  real  life  between  E.  S.  and  L.  K, 
get  on  ? 

Letter  680 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  September  itfh,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — Mr.  Nicholls  and  I  have  a  call  or  two  to  make 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Keighley ;  we  wish  so  to  arrange  as  to 
meet  you  there  and  bring  you  back  with  us  in  the  cab.  On  Wed- 
nesday Mr.  Nicholls  is  always  engaged,  as  it  is  a  lecture  day,  but 
on  Thursday  next  (the  2ist)  we  will  D.v.  expect  you  at  the 
station  by  the  dii  train.  We  shall  be  very,  very  glad  to  see  you, 
dear  Nell,  and  I  want  the  day  to  come. 

E.  S,  does  not  seem  to  me  one  of  the  wise  virgins,  and  I  must 
candidly  add  that  L.  K.  strikes  me  also  as  one  of  the  slightly 
infatuated;  it  must  be  outside  which  chiefly  attracts  him,  and  then 
her  reluctance  stimulates  his  pursuit.  However,  I  trust  we  shall 
have  plenty  of  time  to  talk  them  and  others  over  ere  long.  Good- 
bye, dear  Nell.— Yours  very  faithfully,  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 


MARRIED  LIFE  375 

Letter  68 1 

TO   MRS,  GASKELL 

September  iqtk. 

Yes !  I  am  thankful  to  say  my  husband  is  in  improved  health  and 
spirits.  It  makes  me  content  and  grateful  to  hear  him  from  time 
to  time  avow  his  happiness  in  the  brief,  plain  phrase  of  sincerity. 
My  own  life  is  more  occupied  than  it  used  to  be :  I  have  not  so 
much  time  for  thinking:  I  am  obliged  to  be  more  practical,  for 
my  dear  Arthur  is  a  very  practical  as  well  as  a  very  punctual  and 
methodical  man.  Every  morning  he  is  in  the  National  School 
by  nine  o'clock;  he  gives  the  children  religious  instruction  till 
half-past  ten.  Almost  every  afternoon  he  pays  visits  amongst  the 
poor  parishioners.  Of  course  he  often  finds  a  little  work  for  his 
wife  to  do,  and  I  hope  she  is  not  sorry  to  help  him.  I  believe  it 
is  not  bad  for  me  that  his  bent  should  be  so  wholly  towards  matters 
of  life  and  active  usefulness,  so  little  inclined  to  the  literary  and 
contemplative.  As  to  his  continued  affection  and  kind  attentions, 
it  does  not  become  me  to  say  much  of  them ;  but  they  neither 
change  nor  diminish.  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

Letter  682 

TO   MRS.  GASKELL 

September  list,  1854. 

...  I  say  nothing  about  the  war,  but  when  I  read  of  its 
horrors  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  it  is  one  of  the  greatest 
curses  that  ever  fell  upon  mankind.  I  trust  it  may  not  last  long, 
for  it  really  seems  to  me  that  no  glory  to  be  gained  can  com- 
pensate for  the  sufferings  which  must  be  endured.  This  may 
seem  a  little  ignoble  and  unpatriotic ;  but  I  think  that  as  we 
advance  towards  middle  age  nobleness  and  patriotism  have  a 
different  signification  to  us  to  that  which  we  accept  while  young. 

You  inquire  kindly  about  papa.  He  is  better,  and  seems  to 
gain  strength  as  the  weather  gets  colder;  indeed  of  late  years 
his  health  has  always  been  better  in  winter  than  in  summer.  We 
are  all  indeed  pretty  well,  and  for  my  own  part,  it  is  long  since 
I  have  known  such  comparative  immunity  from  headache,  etc.,  as 
during  the  last  three  months.  My  life  is  different  from  what  it 
used  to  be.  May  God  make  me  thankful  for  it !  I  have  a  good, 
kind,  attached  husband,  and  every  day  my  own  attachment  to 
him  grows  stronger.  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS* 


376  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  683 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  October  nth,  '54. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  cannot  say  I  was  surprised  when  I  received 
yours  to  learn  that  you  had  had  to  wait  at  Keighley  Station  two 
long  hours  without  fire  or  company,  but  I  was  truly  vexed  and 
concerned.  On  looking  at  the  clock  after  you  were  gone,  I  feared 
how  it  would  be,  so  did  Arthur,  and  we  were  both  exceedingly 
grieved  that  you  had  not  stayed  for  the  later  train.  I  must  say 
Mr.  E.'s  behaviour  was  very  creditable  to  him,  the  man  mu-t  have 
the  germ  of  innate  politeness  in  his  nature.  I  return  his  courteous 
little  note. 

You  will  ask  how  we  got  on  with  the  party  yesterday.  Read 
the  enclosed  which  I  received  on  Monday  morning,  and  it  will 
tell  you,  Amelia  is  really  a  simpleton  in  some  things,  she  will  now 

be  worshipping  Mrs. ,  fine  clothes,  open  pink  muslin  gown, 

worked  petticoat,  velvet  cape,  and  carriage  and  pairs  included.  I 
do  not  say  that  she  should  show  or  feel  one  shade  of  jealousy  of 
her  husband's  former  flames,  but  that  assiduous  cultivation  of 
their  society  and  countenance  seems  strained,  odd,  unnatural. 
Arthur  is  very  strong  upon  it  and  much  out  of  patience  with 
Amelia. 

I  don't  know  whether  I  shall  be  able  to  keep  him  at  home  now 
whenever  she  does  come.  He  threatens  to  bolt  He  flourishes, 
and  desires  his  kind  regards  to  you.  He  also  often  says  he 
wishes  you  were  well  settled  in  life.  He  is  just  gone  out  this 
morning  in  a  rather  refractory  mood  about  some  Dissenters.  On 
Sunday,  we  had  a  pair  of  very  sweet  sermons  indeed,  really  good, 
and  touching  the  better  springs  of  our  nature.  Just  before  g  jing 
to  Church  he  menaced  me  with  something  worse  than  the  pre- 
ceding Sunday.  I  was  agreeably  disappointed. 

I  cannot  say  I  wonder  at  Mr,  Heald's  resignation.  It  seems  to 
me  that  all  who  truly  believe  the  doctrines  and  trust  the  promises 
of  Cfa/istianity  must,  after  watching  the  sufferings  of  sickness  and 
agonies  -of  death  in  one  they  love,  feel,  in  the  first  instance,  a  sort 
of  peace  in  their  release,  and  resignation  to  their  loss.  It  is  some 
time  afterwards  that  the  dark  and  durable  regrets  arise,  and 
perhaps,  surrounded  bv  his  family  and  parishioners,  he  may  be 
spared  these. 


MARRIED  LIFE  377 

With  love  to  your  dear  mother,  and  all  at  Brookroyd,  most  to 
yourself,  Nell,— I  am,  yours  faithfully,  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS, 

Papa,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is  still  a  good  deal  troubled  with  his 
cough,  though  better  than  he  has  been. 


Letter  684 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

October  — , ' 54.     Friday  Morning. 

DEAR  NELL, — You  would  have  been  written  to  before  now  if  I 
had  not  been  very  busy.  Joe  Taylor  and  the  child  came  on 
Tuesday  morning.  Amelia  only  stayed  till  the  same  evening,  we 
had  the  others  till  yesterday.  We  got  on  with  them  better  than  I 
expected.  Amelia  seemed  pleased  and  content  and  forgot  her 
fancies  for  the  time  ;  she  looked  not  at  all  pretty  but  stronger  and 
in  better  health.  Tim  behaved  capitally  on  the  whole.  She 
amused  papa  very  much,  chatting  away  to  him  very  funnily,  his 
white  hair  took  her  fancy,  she  announced  a  decided  preference  for 
it  over  Arthur's  black  hair,  and  coolly  advised  the  latter  to  'go  to 
the  barber  and  get  his  whiskers  cut  off.'  Papa  says  she  speaks  as 
I  did  when  I  was  a  child,  says  the  same  odd  unexpected  things. 
Neither  Arthur  nor  papa  liked  Amelia's  looks  at  first,  but  she 
improved  on  them,  I  think. 

Arthur  will  go.  to  the  Consecration  of  Heptonstall  Church, 
D.V.,  but  I  don't  mean  to  accompany  him.  I  hardly  like 
coming  in  contact  with  all  the  Mrs.  Parsons ;  if  you  were  here 
I  should  go. 

Arthur  heard  from  Mr.  Sowden  lately — an  uninteresting  letter, 
no  remark  on  our  vote  of  thanks,  etc.  A  brother  of  his  is  coming 
over,  Arthur  means  to  invite  them  both  here  for  a  night  I  shall 
take  stock  of  them  and  tell  you  what  I  think. 

Arthur  is  impatient  for  his  walk.  I  am  obliged  to  scrawl 
hurriedly.  When  I  go  to  Brookroyd,  if  I  hear  Mr.  Clapham  or 
anybody  else  say  anything  to  the  disparagement  of  single  women, 
I  shall  go  off  like  a  bomb  shell,  and  as  for  you,— but  I  won't 
prophesy. 

Arthur  has  just  been  glancing  over  this  note.  He  thinks  I 
have  written  too  freely  about  Amelia.  Men  don't  seem  to  under- 
stand making  letters  a  vehicle  of  communication,  they  always 


378  THE  BRONTES 

seem  to  think  us  incautious.  I  'm  sure  I  don't  think  I  have  said 
anything  rash ;  however,  you  must  burn  it  when  read.  Arthur 
says  such  letters  as  mine  never  ought  to  be  kept,  they  are 
dangerous  as  lucifer  matches,  so  be  sure  to  follow  a  recommenda- 
tion he  has  just  given, '  fire  them '  or  '  there  will  be  no  more,7  such 
is  his  resolve.  I  can't  help  laughing,  this  seems  to  me  so  funny. 
Arthur,  however,  says  he  is  quite  'serious1  and  looks  it,  I  assure 
you ;  he  is  bending  over  the  desk  with  his  eyes  full  of  concern.  I 
am  now  desired  ( to  have  done  with  it/  so  with  his  kind  regards- 
and  mine,  good-bye,  dear  Ellen. — Yours  affectionately, 

C.  B.   NlCHOLLS. 

Letter  685 

TO   ELLEN    NUSSEY 

H  AWO RTH,  October  31^,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  wrote  my  last  in  a  hurry,  and  as  soon  as  I 
had  sealed  it,  remembered  that  it  contained  no  comment  on  what 
you  had  said  about  Elizabeth's  illness.  I  was  sorry,  for  the  news 
had  impressed  me  painfully,  and  I  wished  much  to  know  how  she 
was  getting  on.  Does  the  slight  improvement  continue?  Her 
particular  wish  for  champagne  might  imply  a  turn  either  for  the 
better  or  the  worse.  I  trust  it  was  the  former  in  her  case,  though 
I  have  known  where  such  a  caprice  of  the  appetite  has  been  of 
fatal  augury.  You  will  kindly  remember  to  give  me  information 
respecting  her  when  you  write  again. 

The  Consecration  of  Heptonstall  Church  took  place  last  Thurs- 
day ;  Arthur  fully  intended  to  go,  but  a  funeral  kept  him  at  home. 
I  regretted  this  as  the  day  happened  to  be  very  fine.  Mr.  Grant 
went  He  said  there  was  a  good  attendance  of  the  laity,  but 
very  few  clergy,  this  was  owing  to  the  fact  of  invitations  not 
having  been  sent. 

I  return  Mrs.  Js  letter;  it  bears  that  character  of  un- 
assuming goodness  and  sense  which  mark  all  her  letters,  but 
I  should  fear  her  illness  has  perhaps  been  more  serious  than 
she  allows.  She  is  evidently  not  one  to  make  much  of  her  own 
ailments. 

Dear  Ellen,  Arthur  complains  that  you  do  not  distinctly 
promise  to  burn  my  letters  as  you  receive  them.  He  says  you 
must  give  him  a  plain  pledge  to  that  effect,  or  he  will  read  every 
line  I  write  and  elect  himself  censor  of  our  correspondence. 


MARRIED  LIFE  379 

He  says  women  are  most  rash  in  letter-writing,  they  think  only 
of  the  trustworthiness  of  their  immediate  friend,  and  do  not  look 
to  contingencies  ;  a  letter  may  fall  into  any  hand.  You  must  give 
the  promise,  I  believe,  at  least  he  says  so,  with  his  best  regards,  or 
else  you  will  get  such  notes  as  he  writes  to  Mr.  Sowden,  plain, 
brief  statements  of  facts  without  the  adornment  of  a  single 
flourish,  with  no  comment  on  the  character  or  peculiarities  of  any 
human  being,  and  if  a  phrase  of  sensibility  or  affection  steals  in, 
it  seems  to  come  on  tiptoe,  looking  ashamed  of  itself,  blushing 
1  pea-green }  as  he  says,  and  holding  both  its  shy  hands  before  its 
face.  Write  him  out  his  promise  on  a  separate  slip  of  paper,  in  a 
legible  hand,  and  send  it  in  your  next  Papa,  I  am  glad  to  say, 
continues  pretty  well.  I  hope  your  mother  prospers,  and  that 
Ann  is  better,  with  love  to  all,  Mr.  Clapham  included. — I  am, 
yours  faithfully,  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS.1 

Letter  686 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  November  jtk,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — The  news  of  an  acquaintance's  death  always 
seems  to  come  suddenly.  I  thought  ill  of  the  previous  accounts 

you  had  given  of  poor  Elizabeth ,  but  still  I  did  not  expect 

she  would  die  so  soon.  And  theirs  is  a  family  into  which  it  is 
difficult  to  realise  the  entrance  of  death.  They  seemed  so  cheerful, 
active,  sanguine.  How  does  S.  bear  her  loss  ?  Will  she  not  feel 
companionless,  almost  sisterless  ?  I  should  almost  fear  so,  for  a 
married  sister  can  hardly  be  to  her  like  the  other.  I  should  like  to 
know  too  how  Mrs.  Hewitt  is.  Did  she  ever  lose  a  child  before? 

Arthur  wishes  you  would  burn  my  letters.  He  was  out  when  I 
commenced  this  letter,  but  he  is  just  come  in.  On  my  asking- 
whether  he  would  give  the  pledge  required  in  return,  he  says,  *  Yes, 
we  may  now  write  any  dangerous  stuff  we  please  to  each  other' ; 
it  is  not  *  old  friends '  he  mistrusts,  but  the  chances  of  war,  the 
accidental  passing  of  letters  into  hands  and  under  eyes  for  which 
they  were  never  written. 

All  this  seems  mighty  amusing  to  me :  it  is  a  man's  mode  of 
viewing  correspondence.  Men's  letters  are  proverbially  uninter- 

1  Upon  this  letter  Miss  Nussey  had  written  a  note  to  the  effect  that  Mr*  Nicholls 
and  Mr,  Bronte  were  the  very  first  to  break  his  (Mr.  Nicholls's)  objections — by  requesting 
the  use  of  Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters  for  Mrs.  Gaskell. 


380  THE  BRONTES 

-esting  and  uncommunicative.  I  never  quite  knew  before  why  they 
made  them  so.  They  may  be  right  in  a  sense.  Strange  chances 
do  fall  out  certainly.  As  to  my  own  notes,  I  never  thought  of 
attaching  importance  to  them  or  considering  their  fate,  till  Arthur 
seemed  to  reflect  on  both  so  seriously. 

Mr.  Sowden  and  his  brother  were  here  yesterday,  stayed  all 
night,  and  are  but  just  gone.  George  Sowden  is  six  or  seven 
years  the  junior  of  Sutcliffe  Sowden  (the  one  you  have  seen)  ;  he 
looks  very  delicate  and  quiet,  a  good  sincere  man,  I  should  think. 
Mr.  Sowden  asked  after  Miss  Nussey. 

I  will  write  again  next  week  if  all  be  well,  to  name  a  day  for 
-coming  to  see  you.  I  am  sure  you  want,  or  at  least  ought  to  have, 
a  little  rest  before  you  are  bothered  with  more  company  :  but 
whenever  I  come,  I  suppose,  dear  Nell,  under  present  circum- 
stances, it  will  be  a  quiet  visit,  and  that  I  shall  not  need  to  bring 
more  than  a  plain  dress  or  two.  Tell  me  this  when  you  write. — 
Believe  me,  faithfully  yours,  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

I  intend  to  write  to  Miss  Wooler  shortly. 

Letter  687 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  November  14?%,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  am  only  just  at  liberty  to  write  to  you; 
guests  have  kept  me  very  busy  during  the  last  two  or  three  days. 
Sir  J.  Kay-Shuttle  worth  and  a  friend  of  his  came  here  on  Saturday 
afternoon  and  stayed  till  after  dinner  on  Monday.  His  chief  errand 
was  to  see  my  husband,  and  when  he  had  seen  him  he  took  a 
fancy  to  him,  and  before  his  departure  made  him  a  formal  offer 
of  the  living  of  Padiham  (near  his  house  at  Gawthorpe),  now 
vacant,  or  on  the  point  of  becoming  so.  Arthur  of  course  is  tied  to 
Haworth  so  long  as  papa  lives,  and  was  obliged  to  decline  for 
that  reason,  had  there  been  none  other.  Arthur  suggested  Mr. 
Sowden,  Mr.  Sowden's  present  income  is  only  ^£"130;  £So  fixed, 
the  rest  quite  uncertain.  There  is  a  beautiful  Church  at  Padiham, 
and  a  Parsonage  is  about  to  be  erected. 

When  I  go  to  Brookroyd,  Arthur  will  take  me  there  and  stay 
one  ni^ht,  but  I  cannot  yet  fix  the  time  of  my  visit.  Joe  and 
Amelia,  it  seems,  are  off  to  Scarbro',  they  mean  to  stay  a  fortnight, 
and  Amelia  has  written  in  great  anxiety  that  I  should  wait  till 


MARRIED  LIFE  381 

they  come  home.  Indeed,  I  have  so  long  promised  to  visit  them 
when  I  go  to  Brookroyd  that  it  would  not  be  right  to  fall  off. 
You  are  aware  of  the  inconvenience  and  expense  of  making  Huns- 
worth  the  subject  of  a  second  visit  direct  from  Haworth.  I  am 
sorry  too  to  be  obliged  to  defer  seeing  you,  very  sorry,  but  I  hope 
to  manage  the  matter  before  Christmas.  Good-bye  for  the 
present,  dear  Nell. — Yours  faithfully,  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

Letter  688 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  November  list,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  hope  you  will  write  very  soon  and  let  me 
know  how  Mercy  is  getting  on,  and  how  you  all  are.  I  trust  the 
fever  will  soon  be  allayed  in  Mercy's  case,  and,  above  all,  that  it 
will  be  confined  to  her,  and  not  spread  to  others  of  the  family, 
and,  indeed  I  quite  hope  this  will  not  be  the  case,  because  the 
fever  was  not  generated  at  Brookroyd,  proving  miasma  in  the 

neighbourhood,  but  was  imported  it  seems  from  Leeds.  Mrs. 

was  indeed  thoughtless.  I  fear  you  will  have  much  to  do,  too 
much ;  but  yet  I  hope  and  believe  you  will  be  supported. 

You  ask  about  Mr.  Sowden's  matter.  He  walked  over  here  on 
a  wild  rainy  day.  We  talked  it  over.  He  is  quite  disposed  to 
entertain  the  proposal,  but  of  course  there  must  be  close  inquiry 
and  ripe  consideration  before  either  he  or  the  patron  decide. 
Meantime,  Mr.  Sowden  is  most  anxious  that  the  affairs  should  be 
kept  absolutely  quiet ;  in  the  event  of  disappointment  it  would 
be  both  painful  and  injurious  to  him  if  it  should  be  rumoured  at 
Hebden  Bridge  that  he  has  had  thoughts  of  leaving.  Arthur  says 
if  a  whisper  gets  out,  these  things  fly  from  parson  to  parson  like 
wild-fire.  I  cannot  help  somehow  wishing  that  the  matter  should 
be  arranged,  if  all  on  examination  is  found  tolerably  satisfactory. 

Papa  continues  pretty  well,  I  am  thankful  to  say ;  his  deafness 
is  wonderfully  relieved.  Winter  seems  to  suit  him  better  than 
summer,  besides  he  is  settled  and  content,  as  I  perceive  with 
gratitude  to  God. 

Dear  Ellen,  I  wisfci  you  well  through  every  trouble.  Arthur  is 
not  in  just  now  or  he  would  send  a  kind  message.  With  love  to 
Mercy  and  all  at  Brookroyd,  and  in  the  hope  that  you  will,  as 
soon  as  possible,  let  me  know  how  she  is  doing.—- Believe  me,. 
yours  faithfully,  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 


382  THE  BRONTES 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

LAST   DAYS 

THE  few  letters  of  the  next  few  weeks  tell  their  own  story. 
Charlotte  Bronte  died  on  March  31,  1855. 

Letter  689 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  November  29^,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  intended  to  have  written  a  line  yesterday,  but 
just  as  I  was  sitting  down  for  the  purpose,  Arthur  called  to  me  to 
take  a  walk.  We  set  off  not  intending  to  go  far,  but  though  wild 
and  cloudy,  it  was  fair  in  the  morning.  When  we  had  got  about 
half  a  mile  on  the  moors,  Arthur  suggested  the  idea  of  the  water- 
fall ;  after  the  melted  snow,  he  said,  it  would  be  fine.  I  had  often 
wanted  to  see  it  in  its  winter  power,  so  we  walked  on.  It  was  fine 
indeed,  a  perfect  torrent  raving  over  the  rocks  white  and  bountiful. 
It  began  to  rain  while  we  were  watching  it,  and  we  returned  home 
under  a  streaming  sky;  however,  I  enjoyed  the  walk  inexpressibly, 
and  would  not  have  missed  the  spectacle  on  any  account. 

How  is  Mercy  now?  I  hope  still  better.  I  hope  she  will  get 
forward  with  her  convalescence  in  clever  style,  and  riot  linger 
half-fondly  over  the  business.  How  are  you  ?  Can  you  get  out 
now  and  take  a  walk  sometimes?  Let  me  know  soon,  dear  Ellen, 
about  your  welfare  and  hers. 

Arthur  somewhat  demurs  about  my  going  to  Brookroyd  as  yet : 
fever,  you  know,  is  a  formidable  word.  I  cannot  say  I  entertain 
any  apprehensions  myself  further  than  this,  that  I  should  be 
terribly  bothered  at  the  idea  of  being  taken  ill  from  home  and 
causing  trouble,  and  strangers  are  sometimes  more  liable  to  in- 
fection than  persons  living  in  the  house. 

Mr.  Sowden  has  seen  Sir  J.  K.  Shuttleworth,  but  I  fancy  the 


LAST  DAYS  383 

matter  is  very  uncertain  as  yet.  It  seems  the  Bishop  of  Man- 
chester stipulates  that  the  clergyman  chosen  should,  if  possible, 
be  from  his  own  Diocese,  and  this,  Arthur  says,  is  quite  right  and 
just.  An  exception  would  have  been  made  in  Arthur's  favour, 
but  the  case  is  not  so  clear  with  Mr.  Sowden.  However,  no  harm 
will  have  been  done  if  the  matter  does  not  take  wind,  as  I  trust 
it  will  not.  Write  very  soon,  dear  Nell,  and  believe  me,  yours 
faithfully,  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

Letter  690 

TO  ELLEN    NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  December  jft,  1854. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  shall  not  get  leave  to  go  to  Brookroyd  before 
Christmas  now,  so  do  not  expect  me.  For  my  own  part  I  really 
should  have  no  fear,  and  if  it  just  depended  on  me,  I  should  come ; 
but  these  matters  are  not  quite  in  my  power  now,  another  must  be 
consulted,  and  where  his  wish  and  judgment  have  a  decided  bias 
to  a  particular  course,  I  make  no  stir,  but  just  adopt  it.  Arthur 
is  sorry  to  disappoint  both  you  and  me,  but  it  is  his  fixed  wish 
that  a  few  weeks  should  be  allowed  yet  to  elapse  before  we  meet. 
Probably  he  is  confirmed  in  this  desire  by  my  having  a  cold  at 
present.  I  did  not  achieve  the  walk  to  the  waterfall  with  im- 
punity, though  I  changed  my  wet  things  immediately  on  returning 
home,  yet  I  felt  a  chill  afterwards,  and  the  same  night  had  sore 
throat  and  cold  ;  however,  I  am  better  now,  but  not  quite  well. 

I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  that  Mercy  is  recovering  so  nicely,  I 
trust  for  your  sake  as  well  as  hers  there  will  be  no  drawback,  and 
that  you  will  soon  have  some  complete  rest,  which  you  must  need. 

It  is  good  news  about  Mrs.  Hewitt.  The  affair  seems  to  have  got 
over  admirably.  Was  it  not  a  little  sooner  than  she  expected? 

Did  I  tell  you  that  our  poor  little  Flossy  is  dead?  He  drooped 
for  a  single  day,  and  died  quietly  in  the  night  without  pain.  The 
loss  even  of  a  dog  was  very  saddening,  yet  perhaps  no  dog  ever 
had  a  happier  life  or  an  easier  death. 

Papa  continues  pretty  well,  I  am  happy  to  say,  and  my  dear 
boy  flourishes ;  I  do  not  mean  that  he  continues  to  grow  stouter, 
which  one  would  not  desire,  but  he  keeps  in  excellent  condition. 

You  would  wonder  I  dare  say  at  the  long  disappearance  of  the 
French  paper.  I  had  got  such  an  accumulation  of  them  unread 
that  I  thought  I  would  not  wait  to  send  the  old  ones,  Now  you 


384  THE  BRONTES 

will  receive  them  regularly.  I  am  writing  in  haste.  It  is  almost 
inexplicable  to  me  that  I  seem  so  often  hurried  now,  but  the  fact 
is,  whenever  Arthur  is  in,  I  must  have  occupations  in  which  he  can 
share,  or  which  will  not  at  least  divert  my  attention  from  him ;  thus 
a  multitude  of  little  matters  get  put  off  till  he  goes  out,  and  then  I 
am  quite  busy.  Good-bye,  dear  Ellen,  I  hope  we  shall  meet  soon* 
— Yours  faithfully,  C  B.  NlCHOLLS. 


Letter  691 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  December  2fatit  '54. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  return  Mrs.  Hewitt's  letter.  It  is  as  you  say, 
very  genuine,  truthful,  affectionate,  maternal,  without  a  taint  of 
sham  or  exaggeration.  Mary  will  love  her  child  without  spoiling 
it,  I  think.  She  does  not  make  an  uproar  about  her  happiness 
either :  the  longer  I  live,  the  more  I  suspect  exaggerations.  I 
fancy  it  is  sometimes  a  sort  of  fashion  for  each  to  vie  with  the 
other  in  protestations  about  their  wonderful  felicity,  and  some- 
times they — FIB.  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  you  are  all  better  at 
Brookroyd.  In  the  course  of  three  or  four  weeks  more,  I  expect 
to  get  leave  to  come  to  you.  I  certainly  long  to  see  you  again  ; 
one  circumstance  reconciles  me  to  this  delay,  the  weather.  I  do 
not  know  whether  it  has  been  as  bad  with  you  as  with  us,  but 
here  for  three  weeks  we  have  had  little  else  than  a  succession  of 
hurricanes. 

In  your  last,  you  asked  about  Mr.  Sowden  and  Sir  James.  I 
fear  Mr.  Sowden  has  little  chance  of  the  living ;  he  had  heard 
nothing  more  of  it  the  last  time  he  wrote  to  Arthur,  and  in  a  note 
he  had  from  Sir  James,  yesterday,  the  subject  is  not  mentioned. 

You  inquire  too  after  Mrs.  Gaskell.  She  has  not  been  here, 
and  I  think  I  should  not  like  her  to  come  now  till  summer.  She 
is  very  busy  with  her  story  of  North  and  South. 

I  must  make  this  note  short  that  it  may  not  be  overweight 
Arthur  joins  me  in  sincere  good  wishes  for  a  happy  Christmas, 
a  many  of  them  to  you  and  yours.  He  is  well,  thank  God,  and 
so  am  I,  and  he  is  'my  dear  boy'  certainly,  deafer  now  than  he 
was  six  months  ago.  In  three  days  we  shall  actually  have  been 
married  that  length  of  time!  Good-bye,  dear  Nell  —  Yours 
faithfully.  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS, 


LAST  DAYS  885 

Letter  692 

TO  MRS.  CLAPHAM 

HAWORTH,  December  28^,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  CLAPHAM,  —  Ellen  will  have  already  received 
a  note  from  me  which  partly  answers  your  kind  note  of  yesterday. 
I  hope  to  visit  Brookroyd  about  the  beginning  of  February,  but 
before  that  time,  I  do  not  think  it  likely  I  shall  get  off.  Do  not 
therefore  postpone  any  engagements  that  may  offer  for  yourself 
on  my  account.  As  to  infection,  I  have  not  the  slightest  fear  on 
my  own  account,  but  there  are  cases,  as  I  need  not  remind  you, 
where  wives  have  just  to  put  their  own  judgment  on  the  shelf  and 
do  as  they  are  bid. 

I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  through  you  that  Ellen  has  borne  her  late 
fatigues  pretty  well,  for  I  know  that  much  anxiety  or  over-exertion 
does  not  suit  her,  and  she  must  have  had  a  good  deal  of  both  lately. 

It  would  be  cheering  to  see  your  mother  and  Mercy  both  down 
on  Christmas  Day.  Give  my  love  to  Mercy.  I  hope  she  will  be 
a  very  good  girl,  eat  nourishing  things  and  get  strong  as  fast  as 
she  can.  You  do  not  mention  your  own  health,  but  I  trust  you 
are  now  quite  recovered  from  your  late  painful  attack. 

Tell  Mr.  Clapham  I  have  long  been  wanting  to  pay  my  bride- 
visit  to  Brookroyd  and  that  I  shall  be  sincerely  glad  to  shake 
hands  with  him  once  more.  I  want  to  introduce  him  to  my 
husband  too,  and  I  have  an  idea  that  they  would  not  disagree, 
that  is,  if  they  had  time  to  know  each  other,  which,  however, 
could  scarcely  be  done  in  a  day. 

With  love  to  your  mother,  Ellen,  Mercy,  and  yourself.  —  Believe 
me,  my  dear  Mrs.  Clapham,  affectionately  yours, 

C.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

Letter  693 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 


,  January  igtft,  1855. 
DEAR  ELLEN,  —  Since  our  return  from  Gawthorpe,  we  have 
had  a  Mr.  Bell,  one  of  Arthur's  cousins,  staying  with  us.  It  was 
a  great  pleasure  ;  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  him  and  made  his 
acquaintance  :  a  true  gentleman  by  nature  and  cultivation  is  not 
after  all  an  everyday  thing. 

VOL.  II.  2  B 


386  THE  BRONTES 

As  to  the  living  of  Habergham  or  Padiham,  it  appears  the  chance 
is  doubtful  at  present  for  anybody.  The  present  incumbent  wishes 
to  retract  his  resignation,  and  declares  his  intention  of  appointing 
a  curate  for  two  years.  I  fear  Mr.  Sowden  hardly  produced  a 
favourable  impression.  A  strong  wish  was  again  expressed  that 
Arthur  could  come,  but  that  is  out  of  the  question. 

I  very  much  wish  to  come  to  Brookroyd,  and  I  hope  to  be  able 
to  write  with  certainty  and  fix  Wednesday  the  3ist  January  as 
the  day :  but  the  fact  is,  I  am  not  sure  whether  I  shall  be  well 
enough  to  leave  home.  At  present  I  should  be  a  most  tedious 
visitor.  My  health  has  been  really  very  good  ever  since  my 
return  from  Ireland  till  about  ten  days  ago,  when  the  stomach 
seemed  quite  suddenly  to  lose  its  tone,  indigestion  and  continual 
faint  sickness  have  been  my  portion  ever  since.  Don't  conjecture, 
dear  Nell,  for  it  is  too  soon  yet,  though  I  certainly  never  before 
felt  as  I  have  done  lately.  I  am  rather  mortified  to  lose  my  good 
looks  and  grow  thin  as  I  am  doing,  just  when  I  thought  of  going 
to  Brookroyd.  Poor  Joe  Taylor !  I  still  hope  he  will  get  better, 
but  Amelia  writes  grievous,  though  not  always  clear  or  con- 
sistent accounts.  Dear  Ellen,  I  want  to  see  you,  and  I  hope  I 
shall  see  you  well.  My  love  to  all. — Yours  faithfully, 

C.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

Thank  Mr.  Clapham  for  his  hospitable  wish,  but  it  would  be 
quite  out  of  Arthur's  power  to  stay  more  than  one  night  or  two 
at  the  most. 

Early  in  the  new  year,  as  stated  in  the  above  letter,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Nicholls  spent  three  days  with  Sir  James  Kay- 
Shuttleworth  at  Gawthorpe.  Mrs.  Gaskell  informs  us  that : — 

'  Soon  after  her  return  she  was  attacked  by  new  sensations  of 
perpetual  nausea  and  ever-recurring  faintness.  After  this  state 
of  things  had  lasted  for  some  time  she  yielded  to  Mr.  Nicholls's 
wish  that  a  doctor  should  be  sent  for.  He  came,  and  assigned  a 
natural  cause  for  her  miserable  indisposition — a  little  patience  and 
all  would  go  right.  She,  who  was  ever  patient  in  illness,  tried 
hard  to  bear  up  and  bear  on.  But  the  dreadful  sickness  increased 
and  increased,  till  the  very  sight  of  food  occasioned  nausea.  "  A 
wren  would  have  starved  on  what  she  ate  during  those  last  six 
weeks,"  says  one.  Tabby's  health  had  suddenly  and  utterly  given 
way,  and  she  died  in  this  time  of  distress  and  anxiety  respecting 


LAST  DAYS  887 

the  last  daughter  of  the  house  she  had  served  so  long.  Martha 
tenderly  waited  on  her  mistress,  and  from  time  to  time  tried  to 
cheer  her  with  the  thought  of  the  baby  that  was  coming.  "I 
dare  say  I  shall  be  glad  some  day,"  she  would  say ;  "  but  I  am  so 
ill — so  weary "  Then  she  took  to  her  bed,  too  weak  to  sit  up.' 

Letter  694 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  January  23^4  1855. 

DEAR  MlSS  NUSSEY,— As  Charlotte  is  not  well,  she  requests 
me  to  answer  your  letter,  and  say  that  it  will  not  be  possible  for 
her  to  visit  you  earlier  than  the  3ist.  /  should  say  that  unless 
she  improves  very  rapidly,  it  will  not  be  advisable  for  her  to  leave 
home  even  then. 

She  will  be  obliged  to  you  to  keep  2  Ibs.  of  honey  for  her. 
She  does  not  know  of  a  customer  for  the  Queens  of  Scotland. 
The  remainder  of  your  note  she  will  answer,  I  hope,  soon. — 
Believe  me,  sincerely  yours,  A.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

Letter  695 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  KEIGHLEY,  January  29^,  1855. 

DEAR  Miss  NUSSEY, — As  Charlotte  continues  unwell,  I  again 
write  a  line  for  her.  She  has  been  confined  to  bed  for  some  days. 
I  have  sent  for  Dr.  MacTurk1  to-day,  as  I  wish  to  have  better 
advice  than  Haworth  affords.  Under  these  circumstances  you 
will  see  that  it  is  quite  impossible  to  name  any  date  for  our  visit 
to  you. 

Charlotte  sends  her  love,  and  says  she  will  write  as  soon  as  she 
is  able. — Believe  me,  faithfully  yours,  A.  B.  NlCHOLLS, 

Letter  696 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  February  ist>  1855. 

DEAR  MlSS  NUSSEY, — Dr.  MacTurk  saw  Charlotte  on  Tuesday. 
His  opinion  was  that  her  illness  would  be  of  some  duration,  but 

3  Dr.  MacTurk  was  the  most  able  physician  in  Bradford  at  this  period. 


388  THE  BRONTES 

that  there  was  no  immediate  danger.     I  trust,  therefore,  that  in 
a  few  weeks  she  will  be  well  again. 

We  were  very  much  concerned  to  hear  of  your  mother's  con- 
tinued illness,  both  on  your  account  and  hers.  Charlotte  begs 
you  will  write  a  line  soon  to  let  her  know  how  Mrs.  Nussey  gets 
on,  and  she  is  sure  she  can  trust  you  to  excuse  her  from  answer- 
ing until  she  is  able. — Believe  me,  yours  faithfully, 

A.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

Letter  697 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  February  14?%,  1855. 

DEAR  MISS  NUSSEY,— It  is  difficult  to  write  to  friends  about 
my  wife's  illness  as  its  cause  is  yet  uncertain ;  at  present  she  is 
completely  prostrated  with  weakness  and  sickness  and  frequent 
fever.  All  may  turn  out  well  in  the  end,  and  I  hope  it  will ;  if 
you  saw  her  you  would  perceive  that  she  can  maintain  no  corre- 
spondence at  present 

She  thinks  of  you  and  sympathises  with  you  in  your  present 
affliction,  and  longed  much  to  hear  from  you. — Believe  me, 
sincerely  yours,  A.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

P. S. — Till  lately  Mr.  Bronte  was  very  well ;  he  is  now,  however, 
suffering  from  bronchial  irritation. 

There  are  but  three  more  letters,  all  written  in  faint 
pencil,  from  the  bed  of  sickness  : — 

Letter  698 

TO  L^TITIA  WHEELWRIGHT 

February  i$th,  1855. 

A  few  lines  of  acknowledgment  your  letter  shall  have,  whether 
well  or  ill.  At  present  I  am  confined  to  my  bed  with  illness, 
and  have  been  so  for  three  weeks.  Up  to  this  period,  since  my 
marriage,  I  have  had  excellent  health.  My  husband  and  I  live 
at  home  with  my  father ;  of  course  I  could  not  leave  kirn.  He 
is  pretty  well,  better  than  last  summer.  No  kinder,  better  husband 
than  mine,  it  seems  to  me,  there  can  be  in  the  world.  I  do  not 
want  now  for  kind  companionship  in  health  and  the  tenderest 


LAST  DAYS  889 

nursing  in  sickness.  Deeply  I  sympathise  in  all  you  tell  me 
about  Dr.  Wheelwright  and  your  excellent  mother's  anxiety.  I 
trust  he  will  not  risk  another  operation.  I  cannot  write  more 
now ;  for  I  am  much  reduced  and  very  weak.  God  bless  you  all ! 
— Yours  affectionately,  C  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

Letter  699 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — I  must  write  one  line  out  of  my  weary  bed 
The  news  of  Mary's  probable  recovery  came  like  a  ray  of  joy  to 
me.  I  am  not  going  to  talk  about  my  sufferings,  it  would 
be  useless  and  painful — I  want  to  give  you  an  assurance  which  I 
know  will  comfort  you — and  that  is  that  I  find  in  my  husband 
the  tenderest  nurse,  the  kindest  support — the  best  earthly  comfort 
that  ever  woman  had.  His  patience  never  fails,  and  it  is  tried  by 
sad  days  and  broken  nights.  Write  and  tell  me  about  Mrs. 
Hewitt's  case,  how  long  she  was  ill  and  in  what  way.  Papa, 
thank  God !  is  better.  Our  poor  old  Tabby  is  dead  and  buried. 
Give  my  truest  love  to  Miss  Woolen  May  God  comfort  and  help 
you.  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

Letter  700 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — Thank  you  very  much  for  Mrs.  Hewitt's 
sensible  clear  letter.  Thank  her  too.  In  much,  her  case  was 
wonderfully  like  mine — but  I  am  reduced  to  greater  weakness — 
the  skeleton  emaciation  is  the  same,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.  I  cannot  talk 
— even  to  my  dear,  patient,  constant  Arthur,  I  can  say  but  few 
words  at  once. 

These  last  two  days  I  have  been  somewhat  better  and  have 
taken  some  beef- tea — spoonsful  of  wine  and  water — a  mouthful  of 
light  pudding  at  different  times. 

Dear  Ellen,  I  realise  full  well  what  you*  have  gone  through,  and 
will  have  to  go  through — O  may  you  continue  to  be  supported 
and  not  sink !  Sickness  here  has  been  terribly  rife.  Papa  is  well 
now.  Kindest  regards  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clapham,  your  mother, 
Mercy. 

Write  when  you  can. — Yours,  C.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 


390  THE  BRONTES 

Letter  701 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  KEIGHLEY, 
March  \$th>  1855. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  NUSSEY, — Be  assured  you  have  all  our 
sympathies  in  the  awful  and  painful  event  which  has  just  befallen 
your  household.  I  broke  the  sad  news  to  Charlotte  as  gently  as 
I  could,  but  it  was  a  great  shock.  She  is  much  concerned  both 
on  your  account  and  that  of  poor  Mrs.  Clapham,  and  also  at  the 
thought  that  she  shall  never  see  again  one  whom  she  greatly 
respected,  These  seem  troubled  times,  my  dear  Miss  Nussey. 
May  God  support  you  through  them. 

Charlotte  was  better  last  week — this  week  I  am  sorry  to  say 
she  has  again  suffered  much.  The  bad  weather  has  thrown  her 
back. 

You  do  not  mention  Miss  Mercy,  but  we  should  be  glad  to 
know  how  she  is  getting  on  when  you  can  write  again. — Believe 
me,  yours  very  sincerely,  A.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

Letter  702 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH,  March  31  st,  1855, 

DEAR  Miss  NUSSEY, — Mr.  Bronte's  letter  would  prepare  you 
for  the  sad  intelligence  I  have  to  communicate.  Our  dear 
Charlotte  is  no  more.  She  died  last  night  of  exhaustion.  For 
the  last  two  or  three  weeks  we  had  become  very  uneasy  about 
her,  but  it  was  not  until  Sunday  evening  that  it  became  apparent 
that  her  sojourn  with  us  was  likely  to  be  short.  We  intend  to 
bury  her  on  Wednesday  morning. — Believe  me,  sincerely  yours, 

A.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

Mrs.  Gaskell  is  our  only  other  authority  for  the  last  sad 
days : — 

Long  days  and  longer  nights  went  by ;  still  the  same  relentless 
Mrs^  nausea  and  faintness,  and  still  borne  on  in  patient  trust. 

Gaskeil's  About  the  third  week  in  March  there  was  a  change ;  a 
Narrative.  ]OWj  wandering  delirium  came  on ;  and  in  it  she  begged 
constantly  for  food  and  even  for  stimulants.  She  swallowed 


LAST  DAYS  391 

eagerly  now  ;  but  it  was  too  late.  Wakening  for  an  Instant  from 
this  stupor  of  intelligence  she  saw  her  husband's  woe-worn  face? 
and  caught  the  sound  of  some  murmured  words  of  prayer  that 
God  would  spare  her.  *  Oh  !'  she  whispered  forth, £  I  am  not  going 
to  die,  am  I  ?  He  will  not  separate  us,  we  have  been  so  happy/ 

Early  on  Saturday  morning,  March  3ist,  the  solemn  tolling  of 
Haworth  church  bell  spoke  forth  the  fact  of  her  death  to  the 
villagers  who  had  known  her  from  a  child,  and  whose  hearts 
shivered  within  them  as  they  thought  of  the  two  sitting  desolate 
and  alone  in  the  old  grey  house. 


Letter  703 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

HAWORTH  PARSONAGE, 
April  \\tJi,  1855. 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — Mr.  Bronte  and  myself  thank  you  very 
sincerely  for  your  sympathy  with  us  in  our  sad  bereavement 
Our  loss  is  indeed  great — the  loss  of  one  as  good  as  she  was 
gifted.  Although  she  had  been  ill  from  the  beginning  of 
January,  it  was  only  a  few  days  previous  to  her  death  that  we 
became  alarmed  for  her  safety.  On  the  whole  she  had  not  much 
suffering — she  spoke  little  during  the  last  few  days,  but  continued 
quite  conscious. 

Mr.  Bronte  is  pretty  well,  tho'  of  course  the  present  trial  is  a 
great  shock  to  him. 

I  return  your  letter  as  I  do  not  know  her  address.1  Again 
thanking  you  for  your  sympathy,  I  am,  my  dear  madam,  yours 
faithfully,  A.  B.  NlCHOLLS. 

1  The  address  of  Miss  Lsetitia  Wheelwright 


392  THE  BRONTES 


CHAPTER    XXXV 

THE  AFTERMATH 

THERE  still  remain  some  interesting  documents  to  add  to 
the  Bronte  story.  By  her  will,1  Mrs.  Nicholls  left  her 
husband  the  very  small  property  that  she  had  derived 
from  her  novels.  Mr.  Nicholls  stayed  on  at  Haworth 
for  the  six  years  that  followed  his  wife's  death.  When 
Mr.  Bronte  died  he  returned  to  Ireland — to  Banagher  in 
King's  County.  Some  years  later  he  married  again — 
a  cousin,  Miss  Bell  by  name.  That  second  marriage  was 
one  of  unmixed  blessedness.  I  found  him  forty  years 
later  in  a  home  of  supreme  simplicity  and  charm,  esteemed 

1  The  will  runs  as  follows : — 

Extracted  from  the  District  Probate  Registry  at  York  attached  to  Her  Majesty's  High 

Court  of  Justice. 

In  the  name  of  God.  Amen.  /,  CHARLOTTE  NICHOLLS,  of  Haworth,  in  the  garish 
of  Bradford  and  county  of  York)  being  of  sound  and  disposing  mind,  memory,  and tinder- 
standing,  but  mindful  of  my  own  mortality,  do  this  seventeenth  day  of  February,  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  fifty-five,  make  this  my  last  Will  and 
Testament  in  manner  and  form  following,  that  is  to  say:  In  case  1  die  without  issue  I 
give  and  bequeath  to  my  husband  all  my  property  to  be  his  absolutely  and  entirely,  but,  In 
tase  I  leave  issue  I  bequeath  to  my  husband  the  interest  of  my  property  during  his  life- 
time, and  at  his  death  2  desire  that  the  principal  should  go  to  my  surviving  child  or 
children;  should  there  be  more  than  one  child,  share  and  share  alike.  And  I  do  hereby 
make  and  appoint  my  said  husband,  Arthur  Bell  Nicholls,  clerk,  sole  executor  of  this  my 
last  Will  and  Testament  •  In  witness  whereof  I  have  to  this  my  last  Will  and  Testament 
subscribed  my  hand,  the  day  and  year  first  above  wrz/tew^CHARLOTTR  NlCHOLLS. 
Signed  and  acknowledged  by  the  said  testatrix  CHARLOTTE  NlCHOLLS,  as  and  for  her 
last  Will  and  Testament  in  the  presence  of  us,  who,  at  her  request,  in  her  presence  and 
in  presence  of  each  other,  have  at  the  same  time  hereunto  subscribed  our  names  as  witnesses 
thereto:  Patrick  Bronte,  B,  A.  9  Incumbent  of  Haw orth,  Yorkshire;  Martha  Brown* 

The  eighteenth  day  of  April  1855,  the  Will  of  CHARLOTTE  NlCHOLLS,  late  of 
Haworth,  in  the  parish  of  Bradford  in  the  county  of  York  (wife  of  the  Reverend 
Arthur  Bell  fricholls,  Clerk  in  Holy  Orders")  (having  bona  notabilia  within  the. 
province  of  York)  Deceased  was  proved  in  the  prerogative  court  of  York  by  th& 
oath  of  the  said  Arthur  Bell  Nicholls  (the  husband},  the  sole  executor  to  whom 
administration  was  granted,  he  having  been  first  sworn  duly  to  administer. 
Testatrix  died  3ist  March  1855. 


THE  AFTERMATH  393 

by  all  who  knew  him  and  idolised  in  his  own  household. 
It  was  not  difficult  to  understand  that  Charlotte  Bronte 
had  loved  him  and  had  fought  down  parental  opposition 
in  his  behalf.  The  qualities  of  gentleness,  sincerity, 
unaffected  piety,  and  delicacy  of  mind  were  his.  He 
lived  for  years  as  a  country  farmer,  attending  the  neigh- 
bouring markets  and  looking  after  his  stock.  He  wrote 
once  or  twice  to  English  newspapers  when  questions  arose 
concerning  his  wife's  fame — otherwise  he  broke  no  silence. 

Martha  Brown  went  to  stay  with  him  and  his  wife  for 
a  time,  but  the  only  visitors  from  England  who  were 
Bronte  enthusiasts  whom  he  consented  to  receive  other 
than  the  editor  of  these  letters  were  Mr.  Reginald  Smith 
of  the  firm  of  Smith,  Elder,  and  Mr.  Field  of  the  Bronte 
Society.  He  read  every  word  written  about  the  Brontes 
with  keenest  interest,  and  his  house  was  full  of  mementos. 
There  were  drawings  on  the  walls  by  the  three  sisters,  and 
books  in  the  cases  that  they  had  handled.  Assuredly  the 
Bronte  tradition  was  well  maintained  in  that  quiet  little 
Irish  town.1 

Mr.  Bronte  died  on  June  7,  1861,  and  his  funeral  in 
Ha  worth  Church  is  described  in  the  Bradford  Review  of 
the  following  week : — 

Great  numbers  of  people  had  collected  in  the  churchyard,  and 
a  few  minutes  before  noon  the  corpse  was  brought  out  through 
the  eastern  gate  of  the  garden  leading  into  the  churchyard.  The 
Rev.  Dr.  Burnet,  Vicar  of  Bradford,  read  the  funeral  service,  and 
led  the  way  into  the  church,  and  the  following  clergymen  were 
the  bearers  of  the  coffin  •:  The  Rev.  Dr.  Cartman  of  Skipton ; 
Rev.  Mr.  Sowden  of  Hebden  Bridge;  the  Incumbents  of  Culling- 
worth,  Oakworth,  Morton,  Oxenhope,  and  St.  John's  Ingrow.  The 
chief  mourners  were  the  Rev.  Arthur  Bell  Nicholls,  son-in-law  of 
the  deceased ;  Martha  Brown,  the  housekeeper ;  and  her  sister ; 
Mrs.  Brown,  and  Mrs.  Wainwright.  There  were  several  gentle- 
men followed  the  corpse  whom  we  did  not  know.  All  the  shops 
in  Haworth  were  closed,  and  the  people  filled  every  pew,  and  the 

1  Arthur  Bell  Nicholls  died  on  Monday,  December  3,  1906,  aged  90,  and  was  buried 
in  the  new  churchyard  of  Banagher. 


394  THE  BRONTES 

aisles  in  the  church,  and  many  shed  tears  during  the  impressive 
reading  of  the  service  for  the  burial  of  the  dead,  by  the  vicar. 
The  body  of  Mr.  Bronte  was  laid  within  the  altar  rails,  by  the 
side  of  his  daughter  Charlotte.  He  is  the  last  that  can  be  interred 
inside  of  Haworth  Church.  On  the  coffin  was  this  inscription : 
'Patrick  Bronte,  died  June  7th,  1861,  aged  84  years.1 

His  will,  which  was  proved  at  Wakefield,1  left  the  bulk 
of  his  property,  as  was  natural,  to  the  son-in-law  who  had 
faithfully  served  and  tended  him  for  the  six  years  which 
succeeded  Charlotte  Bronte's  death. 

There  are  also  other  documents  concerning  the  autho- 
rised biography,  as,  for  example,  the  following  from  Mary 
Taylor ; — 

Letter  704 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

WELLINGTON,  April  igfb,  '56. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  got  your  letter  a  week  ago,  that  is  5  months 
after  it  was  written.  It  has  been  the  same  with  those  from  John 
and  from  Amelia.  It  is  quite  old-fashioned  to  be  so  long  without 
news  from  England  1  There  were  3  mails  due  at  once,  Your 
letter  is  most  interesting  concerning  poor  Charlotte's  Life.  If, 
for  the  sake  of  those  who  behaved  ill  to  her,  the  truth  cannot  be 

1  Extracted  from  the  Principal  Registry  of  the  Probate  Divorce  and  Admiralty 
Division  of  the  High  Court  of  Justice. 

Being  of  sound  mind  and  judgment ',  in  the  name  of  God  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Ghost,  /,  PATRICK  BRONTE,  B.A.,  Incumbent  of  Haworth,  in  the  Parish  of  Bradford 
and  county  of  York,  make  this  my  last  Will  and  Testament :  I  leave  forty  pounds  to  be 
equally  divided  amongst  all  my  brothers  and  sisters  to  -whom  /  gave  considerable  sums 
in  times  past ;  And  I  direct  the  same  sum  of  forty  pounds  to  be  sent  for  distribution  to 
Mr.  Hugh  Bronte",  Ballinasceaugh^  near  Loughbrickland^  Ireland ;  /  leave  thirty 
pounds  to  my  servant ',  Martha  Brown,  as  a  token  of  regard  for  long  and  faithful  services 
to  me  and  my  children  ;  To  my  beloved  and  esteemed  son-in-law,  the  Rev.  Arthur  Bell 
NichollS)  JB.A.,  2  leave  and  bequeath  the  residue  of  my  personal  estate  of  every  description 
which  I  shall  be  possessed  of  at  my  death  for  his  own  absolute  benefit;  And  I  make  him- 
my  sole  executor  ;  And  I  revoke  all  former  and  other  Wills  ^  in  witness  whereof  /,  the 
said  PATRICK  BRONTE,  have  to  this  my  last  Will^  contained  in  this  sheet  of  paper >  set 
my  hand  this  twentieth  day  of  June,  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  fifty  "five. 

PATRICK  BRONTE. — Signed  and  acknowledged  by  the  said  PATRICK  BRONTfi  as  his 
Will  in  the  presence  of  us  present  at  the  same  time>  and  who  in  his  presence  and  in  the 
presence  of  each  other  have  hereunto  subscribed  our  names  as  witnesses:  JOSEPH  R.EDMAN, 
ELIZA  BROWN. 


THE  AFTERMATH  395 

spoken,  still  people  should  not  tell  lies.  The  fact  reached  me 
even  here  that  Mr.  Bronte  did  not  choose  his  daughter  should 
marry — she  wrote  to  me  that  she  once  dismissed  Mr.  Nicholls 
because  he  (her  papa)  was  so  angry  that  she  was  frightened — 
frightened  for  him.  It  was  long  after,  years  I  think,  that  she 
told  him  that  she  had  determined  to  see  Mr,  Nicholls  again,  and 
without  positively  saying  yes,  to  retract  her  refusal.  I  can  never 
think  without  gloomy  anger  of  Charlotte's  sacrifices  to  the  selfish 
old  man.  How  well  we  know  that,  had  she  left  him  entirely  and 
succeeded  in  gaining  wealth,  and  name,  and  influence,  she  would 
have  had  all  the  world  lauding  her  to  the  skies  for  any  trivial 
act  of  generosity  that  would  have  cost  her  nothing !  But  how  on 
earth  is  all  this  to  be  set  straight !  Mrs  Gaskell  seems  far  too 
able  a  woman  to  put  her  head  into  such  a  wasp  nest,  as  she 
would  raise  about  her  by  speaking  the  truth  of  living  people. 
How  she  will  get  through  with  it  I  can't  imagine.  Charlotte 
once  wrote  to  me  that  Miss  Martineau  had  no  bump  of  secretive- 
ness  at  all,  and  that  she  (Charlotte)  had  dropped  her  acquaintance 
on  that  account.  I  am  very  curious  about  Miss  Martineau's  life. 
What  do  you  mean  about  her  having  written  it — is  it  published  ? 
Otherwise  how  do  you  know  what  she  has  said  of  Charlotte? 

Your  account  of  Joe  and  Amelia  agrees  with  the  impression 
Amelia's  letters  give  me.  She  writes  late  at  night  and  seems  to 
have  spent  her  time  nursing  until  every  other  idea  has  gone  out 
of  her  head.  She  gives  no  news,  mentions  no  friends,  and  seems 
to  know  nothing  but  how  unhappy  she  is.  This  want  of  power 
to  turn  her  thoughts  abroad  shows  more  depression  than  she 
herself  is  aware  of.  But  what  remedy?  No  one  can  take  her 
place,  even  if  they  had  the  authority  to  send  her  away.  Her 
very  mind  gets  warped  by  the  constant  strain  on  it  I  begin  now 
to  incline  to  John's  opinion  that  Joe's  hopelessness  is  a  symptom 
of  his  disorder  and  not  to  be  believed  in.  John  seems  to  think  he 
will  get  better  by  slow  degrees. 

We  have  been  in  danger  of  a  terrible  misfortune  here.  A  fire 
broke  out  in  a  lot  of  warehouses  at  2  o'clock  in  the  morning  a 
week  ago  (3rd  May)  and  was  not  subdued  till  five.  It  was  so 
calm  (a  most  unusual  thing)  that  the  smoke  and  flame  rose 
perpendicularly,  If  there  had  been  any  wind  at  all,  all  our  end 
of  the  town  must  have  been  burnt.  We  roof  our  houses  with 
thin  pieces  of  wood  put  on  like  slates,  and  a  slight  breeze  would 
have  set  a  dozen  roofs  on  fire  at  once.  Waring's  place  is  about 


396  THE  BRONTES 

200  yds.  off,  mine  300  yds.  more ;  but  there  are  wooden  buildings 
all  the  way,  and  I  should  only  have  had  the  favour  of  being  burnt 
last.  In  three  hours  the  fire  destroyed  the  value  of  £1 5,000,  and 
then  we  were  much  indebted  to  a  brick  wall,  the  only  one  about 
the  whole  clump  of  buildings,  that  delayed  the  fire  a  little  and 
gave  the  engines  power  over  it.  Twelve  years  ago  there  was  a 
fire  and  a  raging  wind,  and  buildings  as  distant  as  mine  were  set 
on  fire  by  the  sparks  and  embers.  Nearly  the  whole  town  was 
burnt  Du  reste,  I  am  plodding  on  as  usual.  I  have  good  health 
and  pleasant  times,  though  no  great  pleasures  ;  yet  little  unhappi- 
ness  except  the  recollection  that  I  am  getting  old  and  shall  soon 
be  solitary,  for  my  friends  are  slipping  away.  I  cannot  say  I 
make  no  new  ones,  but  somehow  I  don't  believe  in  them.  I 
suppose  I  get  selfish  and  suspicious.  I  suppose  you  know  that 
in  the  last  18  months  I  have  not  prospered  in  wealth,  being  fust 
where  I  was  in  that  respect  a  year  and  a  half  ago.  I  have  no 
right  to  call  this  a  misfortune,  but  having  been  improving  several 
years  before  made  me  unreasonable.  I  do  not  work  hard 
enough  to  justify  me  in  expectations  of  getting  rich.  Just  now 
I  have  more  to  do  and  probably  shall  have.  I  wish  I  could  set 
the  world  right  on  many  points,  but  above  all  respecting 
Charlotte.  It  would  do  said  world  good  to  know  her  and  be 
forced  to  revere  her  in  spite  of  their  contempt  for  poverty  and 
helplessness.  No  one  ever  gave  up  more  than  she  did  and  with 
full  consciousness  of  what  she  sacrificed.  I  don't  think  myself 
that  women  are  justified  in  sacrificing  themselves  for  others,  but 
since  the  world  generally  expects  it  of  them,  they  should  at  least 
acknowledge  it.  But  where  much  is  given  we  are  all  wonderfully 
given  to  grasp  at  more.  If  Charlotte  had  left  home  and  made  a 
favour  of  returning,  she  would  have  got  thanks  instead  of  tyranny 
— wherefore  take  care  of  yourself,  Ellen,  and  if  you  choose  to  give 
a  small  modicum  of  mention  of  other  people,  grumble  hard, — 
Yours  affectionately,  MARY  TAYLOR. 

Letter  705 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

PLYMOUTH  GROVE, 
MANCHESTER,/^  9//%,  '56. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  NUSSEY, — You  must  excuse  any  kind  of  writing, 
for  my  girls  are  all  from  home,  and  I  suppose  I  have  between  thirty 


THE  AFTERMATH  397 

and  forty  notes  and  letters  to  answer  this  morning,  if  possible 
(which  it  is  not),  and  yet  I  want  to  write  you  a  long  letter,  and  tell 
you  all  my  adventures.  Brussels,  where  Mme.  H£ger,  under- 
standing that  I  was  a  friend  of  Miss  Bronte's,  refused  to  see  me  ; 
but  I  made  M.  Roger's  acquaintance,  and  very  much  indeed  I  both 
like  and  respect  him.  Mr,  and  Mrs.  Smith,  junr.,  and  Mrs.  Smith, 
senr.  (exactly  like  Mrs.  Bretton).  Mr.  Smith  said  (half  suspiciously, 
having  an  eye  to  Dr.  John,  I  fancied),  'Do  you  know,  I  sometimes 
think  Miss  Bronte  had  my  mother  in  her  mind  when  she  wrote 
Mrs.  Bretton  in  Villetter  As  I  had  not  then  seen  Mrs.  Smith  I 
could  only  answer,  f  Do  you  ? '  a  very  safe  reply.  I  went  with  Mr. 
Smith  to  see  the  Chapter  Coffee-House  in  Paternoster  Row,  where 
she  and  Anne  Bronte  took  up  thei*  abode  that  first  hurried  rush 
up  to  London.  In  fact,  I  now  think  I  have  been  everywhere 
where  she  ever  lived,  except  of  course  her  two  little  pieces  of 
private  governess-ship.  I  still  want  one  or  two  things  to  complete 
my  materials,  and  I  am  very  doubtful  if  I  can  get  them — at  any 
rate,  I  think  they  will  necessitate  my  going  to  Haworth  again, 
and  I  am  literally  afraid  of  that.  I  will  tell  you  the  things  I 
should  like  to  have,  and  shall  be  glad  if,  knowing  the  parties,  you 
could  give  me  advice.  First  of  all,  I  promised  M.  H£ger  to  ask 
to  see  his  letters  to  her ;  he  is  sure  she  would  keep  them,  as  they 
contained  advice  about  her  character,  studies,  mode  of  life.  I 
doubt  much  if  Mr.  Nicholls  has  not  destroyed  them.  Then  again, 
Mr.  Smith  suggests — and  I  think  with  great  justice — that  if  I 
might  see  the  MS.  of  The  Professor  (which  Mr.  Nicholls  told  me 
last  July  that  he  had  in  his  possession),  I  might  read  it,  and 
express  my  opinion  as  to  its  merits  and  demerits  as  a  first  work 
He  says  that  much  of  it — whole  pieces  of  it,  as  far  as  he  remem- 
bers— are  so  interwoven  with  Villette  that  it  could  never  be  pub- 
lished, nor  would  it  be  worth  while  to  give  extracts,  even  if  Mr.  N. 
would  allow  it ;  but  if  I  might  read  it,  I  could  give  the  kind  of 
criticism  and  opinion  upon  it  that  Mr.  Bronte  was  anxious  I  should 
give  on  those  published  works  of  hers,  on  which  (I  told  him)  public 
opinion  had  already  pronounced  her  fiat,  and  set  her  seal.  So 
much  for  The  Professor  and  M.  H6ger's  letters.  Now  another  of 
Mr.  Smith's  suggestions  is  this :  Might  I,  do  you  think,  see  the 
beginning  (fifty  pages,  Mr.  Nicholls  said)  of  the  new  story  she  had 
commenced  ?  Reasons  why  desirable.  Her  happy  state  of  mind 
during  her  married  life  would  probably  give  a  different  character 
of  greater  hope  and  serenity  to  the  fragment 


398  THE  BRONTES 

One  thing  more.  Mr.  Smith  says  that  her  letters  to  her  father 
from  London,  giving  an  account  of  places  and  persons  she  saw, 
were  long,  constant,  and  minute ;  they  would  not  refer  to  any 
private  affairs,  but  to  the  impressions  celebrated  strangers  made 
upon  her,  etc. 

I  agree  with  Mr.  Smith  that  it  would  be  a  great  advantage  to 
me,  as  her  biographer,  and  to  her  memory  also,  for  I  am  convinced 
the  more  her  character  and  talents  are  known  the  more  thoroughly 
will  both  be  admired  and  reverenced.  But  I  doubt  much  if  Mr. 
Nicholls  won't  object  to  granting  me  the  sight  of  these  things; 
and  all  the  remains,  etc.,  appear  to  be  in  his  hands.  Read  (and 
return,  please)  this  note  of  Mr.  Bronte's  to  Mr.  Smith  in  reply  to 
his  application  to  be  allowed  to  have  a  copy  for  himself  (ht  thought 
it  best  to  ask  for  this  only,  which  he  had  promised  him)  at  first.  It 
seems  as  if  Mr.  Bronte's  own  consent  or  opinion  on  these  matters 
had  very  little  weight  with  Mr.  Nicholls.  I  found  Mr.  Smith  an 
agreeable,  genial-mannered  man,  with  a  keen  eye  to  business; 
he  is  rather  too  stout  to  be  handsome,  but  has  a  very  pretty, 
Paulina-like  little  wife,  and  a  little  girl  of  eighteen  months  old. 
Mr.  Williams  dined  there  when  I  did:  grey-haired,  silent,  and 
refined. 

Now  for  questions  I  should  be  much  obliged  to  you  if  you  would 
answer — I  am  afraid  to  say  by  return  of  post,  but  I  should  like 
that !  Did  Emily  accompany  C.  B.  as  a  pupil  when  the  latter  went 
as  teacher  to  Roe  Head  ?  This  was  evidently  the  plan ;  yet 
afterwards  it  seems  as  if  it  were  Anne  that  went.  Why  did  not 
Branwell  go  to  the  Royal  Academy  in  London  to  learn  painting  ? 
Did  Emily  ever  go  out  as  a  governess?  I  know  Anne  and  Char- 
lotte did. 

I  wrote  twenty  pages  yesterday  because  it  rained  perpetually, 
and  I  was  uninterrupted ;  such  a  good  day  for  writing  may  not 
come  again  for  months.  All  August  I  shall  be  away.  But  I  am 
thoroughly  interested  in  my  subject,  and  Mr.  Smith,  who  looks  at 
the  affair  from  the  experienced  man  of  business  point  of  view, 
says, '  There  is  no  hurry ;  there  would  be  a  great  cry  of  indelicacy 
if  it  were  published  too  soon.  Do  it  well,  and  never  fear  that  the 
public  interest  in  her  will  die  away.'  But  a  note  of  his  (written 
after  reading  as  much  of  my  MS.  which  was  then  written,  which 
you  remember,  I  read  to  you),  and  which  I  enclose  for  your  own 
private  reading,  makes  me  rather  uncomfortable.  See  the  passage 
I  have  marked  at  the  side.  Now  I  thought  that  I  carefully  pre- 


THE  AFTERMATH  399 

served  the  reader's  respect  for  Mr.  Bronte,  while  truth  and  the 
desire  of  doing  justice  to  her  compelled  me  to  state  the  domestic 
peculiarities  of  her  childhood,  which  (as  in  all  cases)  contributed  so 
much  to  make  her  what  she  was ;  yet  you  see  what  Mr.  Smith 
says,  and  what  reviews,  in  their  desire  for  smartness  and  careless- 
ness for  scrupulous  consideration,  would  be  sure  to  say,  even  yet 
more  plainly.  May  I  call  you  simply  ' Ellen'  in  the  book? 
Initials  give  so  little  personality — they  are  so  like  a  mathematical 
proposition.  I  should  not  even  put  an  initial  to  your  surname. 

I  have  written  you  a  terribly  long  letter,  because,  as  somebody 
says,  *  I  have  not  time  to  write  you  a  short  one/  but  I  both  wanted 
answers  to  my  questions,  and  also  wanted  you  to  know  how  I  am 
going  on.  We  look  forward  to  seeing  you  in  the  autumn.  Mr. 
Gaskell  desires  his  kind  regards ;  every  one  else  is.  from  home. 
Your  sister  must  not  forget  me,  for  I  do  not  forget  her  and  her 
kind  reception  of  me. — Yours  faithfully,  E,  C.  GASKELL. 

Letter  706 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

January  8^*57. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — A  few  days  ago  I  got  a  letter  from  you  dated 
2nd  May  /S6  along  with  some  patterns  and  a  fashion  book.  They 
seem  to  have  been  lost  somehow,  as  the  box  ought  to  have  come 
by  the  Hastings,  and  only  now  makes  its  appearance  by  the 
Philip  Lang.  It  has  come  very  a  propos  for  a  new  year's  gift, 
and  the  patterns  were  not  opened  twenty-four  hours  before  a  silk 
cape  was  cut  out  by  one  of  them.  I  think  I  made  a  very 
impertinent  request  when  I  asked  you  to  give  yourself  so  much 
trouble.  I  thought  you  would  just  look  out  a  few  paper  patterns 
which  you  might  happen  to  have.  Your  being  from  home  made 
the  matter  give  you  still  more  trouble.  The  poor  woman  for 
whom  I  wanted  them  is  now  our  first-rate  dressmaker;  her 
drunken  husband,  who  was  her  main  misfortune,  having  taken 
himself  off  and  not  been  heard  of  lately.  Your  account  of  Joe 
and  Amelia,  like  all  that  I  get  of  them,  is  very  melancholy — 
more  melancholy  than  illness  even.  It  seems  to  show  them 
absdrbed  in  themselves  and  their  misfortunes  so  as  to  shut  other 
people  out  by  their  own  miseries.  That  Amelia  should  want  to 
keep  Tim's  affection  all  to  herself  I  can  well  imagine.  I  often 
see  the  feeling  here,  especially  where  there  is  only  one  child.  It 


400  THE  BRONTES 

needs  to  have  half  a  dozen  and  plenty  to  do,  for  the  Mama  to 
find  out  that  she  may  as  well  let  any  one  love  the  children  who 
will  take  the  trouble  even  if  the  children  should  love  them  in  return. 
Poor  Amelia  has  a  hard  life  of  it,  for  her  one  hope  is  so  delicate, 
and  the  care  they  take  of  it  is  so  little  successful  in  its  results,  that 
I  am  afraid  there  is  more  pain  than  pleasure  on  the  whole. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  Mrs.  Gaskell  is  progressing  with  the 
Life.  I  wish  I  had  kept  Charlotte's  letters  now,  though  I  never  felt 
safe  to  do  so  until  latterly  that  I  have  had  a  home  of  my  own. 
They  would  have  been  much  better  evidence  than  my  imperfect 
recollection,  and  infinitely  more  interesting.  A  settled  opinion 
is  very  likely  to  look  absurd  unless  you  give  the  grounds  for  it, 
and  even  if  I  could  remember  them,  it  looks  as  if  there  might  be 
other  facts  which  I  have  neglected  which  ought  to  have  altered 
it  Your  news  of  the  *  neighbours  J  is  very  interesting  ;  especially 
of  Miss  Wooler  and  my  old  school-fellows.  Why  on  earth  has 
Susan  Ledgard  had  an  attack  of  paralysis  ?  She  is  still  in  the 
thirties.  There  must  have  been  some  strong  cause  for  it.  Was  it 
mental  or  bodily  ?  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  give  you  some  account 
of  my  ways  and  doings  here  and  the  effect  of  my  position  on  me. 
First  of  all,  it  agrees  with  me.  I  am  in  better  health  than  at  any 
time  since  I  left  school.  This  difference  won't  seem  much  to 
other  people,  since  I  never  was  ill  since  then  ;  but  it  is  very  great 
to  me,  for  it  is  just  the  difference  between  everything  being  a 
burden  and  everything  being  more  or  less  a  pleasure.  Half  from 
physical  weakness  and  half  from  depression  of  spirits  my  judg- 
ment in  former  days  was  always  at  war  with  my  will  There 
was  always  plenty  to  do,  but  never  anything  that  I  really  felt  was 
worth  the  labour  of  doing.  My  life  now  is  not  overburdened  with 
work,  and  what  I  do  has  interest  and  attraction  in  it  I  should 
think  it  is  that  part  that  I  shall  think  most  agreeable  when  I 
look  back  on  my  death-bed  —  a  number  of  small  pleasures 
scattered  over  my  way,  that,  when  seen  from  a  distance,  will 
seem  to  cover  it  thick.  They  don't  cover  it  by  any  means,  but  I 
never  had  so  many. 

I  look  after  my  shopwoman ;  make  out  bills ;  decide  who  shall 
have  'trust'  and  who  not.  Then  I  go  a-buying;  not  near  such  an 
anxious  piece  of  business  now  that  I  understand  my  trade  and 
have,  moreover,  a  good  *  credit'  I  read  a  good  deal ;  sometimes 
on  the  sofa ;  a  vice  I  am  much  given  to  in  hot  weather.  Then  I 
have  some  friends,  Not  many  and  no  geniuses — which  fact  pray 


THE  AFTERMATH  401 

keep  strictly  to  yourself,  for  somehow  the  doings  and  sayings  of 
Wellington  people  in  England  always  come  out  again  to  N.Z. 
I  do  not  think  my  acquaintances  are  inferior  to  what  I  should 
have  had  elsewhere,  even  with  more  means  and  a  higher  position 
of  my  own.  They  are  most  of  them  narrow-minded  and  ignorant. 
Those  of  the  higher  class  only  differ  by  being  less  practical  and 
more  exacting.  They  are  not  very  interesting  anyway.  This  is 
my  fault  in  part,  for  I  can't  take  an  interest  in  their  concerns.  It 
would  be  dreadful  to  me  to  spend  as  much  time  as  they  do  on 
the  details  of  dressing  and  eating — at  least  providing  the  eating. 
Then  their  children,  of  course,  concern  me  but  little.  A  book  is 
worth  any  of  them  and  a  good  book  worth  them  put  together, 
Mamas  included. 

Our  place  is  thriving  on  the  whole,  though  there  is  an  attempt 
making  just  now  to  get  up  a  rage  for  emigrating  and  exporting 
to  N.  Zealand.  Such  rages  always  go  too  far,  and  we  shall  likely 
get  a  bad  character  among  you  in  consequence.  It's  all  the  same 
to  us.  I  wish  I  had  better  news  of  your  own  health.  I  think 
pain  in  the  chest  a  serious  thing.  Our  east  winds  are  much  the 
pleasantest  and  healthiest  we  have ;  the  soft  moist  north-west  brings 
headache  and  depression,  it  even  blights  the  trees. — Yours  affec- 
tionately, MARY  TAYLOR. 


Letter  707 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

PLYMOUTH  GROVE,  April  15^,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  MISS  NUSSEY, — Among  a  huge  heap  of  letters  await- 
ing me  on  my  arrival  from  Newcastle  last  night  (where  I  had  been 
since  Thursday)  was  the  enclosed.  As  you  may  suppose,  it  was 
anything  but  agreeable  to  think  what  you  must  have  been  setting 
me  down  as — an  unlettered,  unmannered,  ungrateful,  good-for- 
nothing  sort  of  brute.  I  send  the  envelope  by  way  of  exculpation, 
though  perhaps  it  leaves  me  open  to  the  charge  of  defect — but  I 
was  obliged  to  write  in  a  hurry,  and  was  not  sure  whether  to 
put  on  Halifax  or  Leeds.  I  hope  your  copy  of  the  Life  and  the 
one  for  Miss  Wooler  came  safe.  All  the  notices  that  I  have  seen 
have  been  favourable,  and  some  of  the  best  exceedingly  so,  I 
have  had  a  considerable  number  of  letters  too  from  distinguished 
men  expressing  high  approval.  Mr.  Bronte,  too,  I  am  happy  to 

VOL.  II.  2  C 


402  THE  BRONTES 

say,  is  pleased,  and  I  can  only  hope  that  Mr,  Nicholls  will  (as  Sir 
J.  K.  Shuttleworth  says)  'learn  to  rejoice  that  his  wife  will  be 
known  as  a  Christian  heroine,  who  could  bear  her  cross  with  the 
firmness  of  a  martyr  saint/  I  have  not  time  to  give  you  any  long 
account  of  the  travellers.  They  were  to  leave  Rome  for  Florence 
yesterday,  after  going  through  all  the  crushing  and  excitement 
of  the  Holy  Week,  I  only  hope  they  won't  be  kilt  and  spilt 
entirely.  They  intend  to  get  as  far  as  Venice,  and  then  I  suppose 
will  turn  their  steps  homeward.  My  two  chickens  here  are  very 
well,  and  if  they  were  not  gone  to  school  could  send  their  love. 

Hoping  your  mother  is  better,  I  am,  my  dear  Miss  Nussey, 
yours  very  hastily  but  sincerely.  WM.  GASKELL. 

Letter  708 

TO  ELLEN   NUSSEY 

1857. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  ELLEN, — I  must  not  detain  your 
longer,  and  now  thank  you  for  the  loan  of  it. 
have  occurred  since  Mary  left  England,  and  if  a  year  ^on  on  meTV 
before  she  again  treads  its  shores,  there  may  be  xihary  others. 
Yesterday  I  met  Mrs.  Marshall,  and  who  do  you  think  had  been 
her  guest  and  had  just  left  Hornsea  for  Edinburgh  ?  Mrs.  Joe 
Taylor !  I  did  not  hear  that  she  was  inconsolable  ;  but  I  am  to 
take  tea  there  soon  and  shall  then  hear  more.  The  third  edition 
has  at  length  ventured  out — our  curate  tells  me  he  is  assured  it  is 
quite  inferior  to  the  former  one — so  you  see  Mrs.  Gaskell  displayed 
worldly  wisdom  in  going  out  of  her  way  to  furnish  gossip  for  the 
discerning  public.  Did  I  name  to  you  that  Mrs.  E.  Gibson  knows 
two  or  three  young  ladies  in  Hull  who  finished  their  education  at 
Madame  H6ger's  pension?  Mrs.  Gaskell  said  they  read  Vilhtte 
with  keen  Interest — of  course  they  would.  I  had  a  nice  walk  with 
a  Mrs.  Goldsmith,  a  Suffolk  lady,  a  visitor  of  the  Marshalls,  who 
was  evidently  delighted  to  meet  with  one  who  had  personally 
known  our  dear  Charlotte  Bronte,  and  would  not  soon  have 
weaned  of  a  conversation  in  which  she  was  the  topic.  Mrs. 
Palmer  says  she  was  more  interested  in  her  biography  than  in 
any  she  ever  perused.  I  am  truly  sorry  to  hear  that  the  vicars  of 
Birstall  and  Dewsbury  are  both  incapacitated  for  duty.  Mrs.  A/s 
attack  has  been  more  severe  than  I  had  any  idea  of,  and  it  is  not 
the  first.  The  loss  of  their  papa  would  indeed  be  a  severe  trial 


THE  AFTERMATH  403 

to  dear  Clifford  and  Marianne.  May  it  please  God  to  avert  it  for 
a  few  years  at  least!  During  the  last  six  weeks  I  have  been 
almost  free  from  indigestion.  How  thankful  should  I  be  ! 

M.  WOOLER. 

Letter  709 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

WELLINGTON,  June  4$,  '58. 

DEAR  ELLEN, — I  have  lately  heard  through  Amelia  that  you 
have  lost  your  mother  and  that  you  are  leaving  Brookroyd. 
Where  to  ?  And  how  will  you  be  situated  ?  I  imagine  you  now 
with  plenty  of  leisure  and  independence,  but  with  a  sense  of 
desolation  arising  from  the  strange  place  you  are  in,  and  even 
from  the  want  of  your  accustomed  work  and  anxiety.  I  shall  not 
even  see  Brookroyd  again,  and  one  of  the  people  who  lived  there 
and  one  whom  I  used  to  see  there,  I  shall  never  see  more.  Keep 
yourself  well,  dear  Ellen,  and  gather  round  you  as  much  happiness 
and  interest  as  you  can,  and  let  me  find  you  cheery  and  thriving 
when  I  come.  When  that  will  be  I  don't  yet  know ;  but  one  thing 
is  sure,  I  have  given  over  ordering  goods  from  England,  so  that  I 
must  sometime  give  over  for  want  of  anything  to  sell.  The  last 
things  ordered  I  expect  to  arrive  about  the  beginning  of  the  year 
1859.  In  the  course  of  that  year  therefore  I  shall  be  left  without 
anything  to  do  or  motive  for  staying.  Possibly  this  time  twelve- 
month I  may  be  leaving  Wellington.  Amelia  writes  that  Tim 
has  got  her  last  tooth  through,  so  that  I  suppose  the  danger  is 
over.  Certainly  Amelia's  life  does  not  impress  me  favourably  as 
to  the  happiness  of  even  a  suitable  marriage.  I  think  (my  choice 
being  free)  that  I  would  rather  not  have  my  all  of  earthly  pleasure 
hang  on  so  slender  a  thread,  though  it  might  be  that  my  enjoy- 
ment were  less  intense.  The  absorption  of  her  letters  makes  one 
tremble  for  her.  I  can  well  imagine  that  she  will  gradually  drop 
all  her  friends  out  of  sheer  forgetfulness  and  be  quite  un- 
conscious of  her  selfishness  owing  to  the  disguise  it  takes.  I 
should  not  like  to  be  the  one  to  advise  her  to  think  now  and  then 
of  something  else,  for  were  the  poor  thing  to  die,  she  would  cer- 
tainly think  it  had  got  its  mortal  injury  in  the  time  she  was  not 
thinking  of  it 

We  are  here  in  the  height  of  a  political  crisis.  The  election  for 
the  highest  office  in  the  province  (Superintendent)  comes  off  in 


404  THE  BRONTES 

about  a  fortnight.  Moreover,  we  have  just  got  a  judge  landed,  for 
the  first  time  these  two  years,  and  one  of  the  members  of  our  pro- 
vincial council  has  been  waiting  for  the  Supreme  Court  to  sit  to 
go  to  law  with  the  late  Superintendent,  who  is  also  a  candidate 
for  re-election.  There  is  altogether  a  small  storm  going  on  in 
our  teacup,  quite  brisk  enough  to  stir  everything  in  it.  My  prin- 
cipal interest  therein  is  the  sale  of  election  ribbons  ;  though  I  am 
afraid,  owing  to  the  bad  weather,  there  will  be  little  display.  Be- 
sides the  elections  there  is  nothing  interesting.  We  all  go  on 
pretty  well  I  have  got  a  pony  about  four  feet  high  that  carries 
me  about  ten  miles  from  Wellington,  which  is  much  more  than 
walking  distance,  to  which  I  have  been  confined  for  the  last  ten 
years.  I  have  given  over  most  of  the  work  to  Miss  Smith,  who  will 
finally  take  the  business,  and  if  we  had  fine  weather  I  think  I 
should  enjoy  myself.  We  have  a  very  wet  and  early  winter,  and 
have  had  no  earthquakes  for  a  long  time,  which  is  always  thought 
a  bad  sign.  People  expect  a  sharp  one  when  one  comes  after  a 
long  interval  of  quiet.  My  main  want  here  is  for  books  enough 
to  fill  up  my  idle  time.  It  seems  to  me  that  when  I  get  home  I 
will  spend  half  my  income  on  books,  and  sell  them  when  I  have 
read  them,  to  make  it  go  farther.  I  know  this  is  absurd,  but 
people  with  an  unsatisfied  appetite  think  they  can  eat  enormously. 
It  rains  just  now  five  days  out  of  six. 

Remember  me  kindly  to  Miss  Wooler,  and  tell  me  more  about 
her  in  your  next.  You  must  by  no  means  give  over  writing  to 
me  until  I  tell  you.  If  I  don't  sail  till  next  year  at  this  time  you 
may  safely  write  until  April,  i.e.  by  the  March  mail.  Fill  your 
letter  with  gossip.  You  are  mistaken  in  thinking  I  hear  much. 

Describe  your  new  dwelling  and  employment — where  you  will 
go  or  what  you  will  do,  without  work.  Write  quickly  and  fully,, 
and  tell  me  all  about  it. — Yours  affectionately, 

MARY  TAYLOR. 

Letter  710 

TO  MRS.   NUNN 

HAWORTH,  NEAR  KEIGHLEY, 

February  ist9  1858. 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — I  thank  you  for  your  kind  offer  of  the 
excellent  newspaper  you  have  mentioned,  but  there  is  no  neces- 
sity of  sending  to  me,  since,  owing  to  the  newspapers  I  take,  and 


THE  AFTERMATH  405 

the  various  institutions  in  the  village,  I  can  see  the  Record,  or  any 
other  I  may  choose,  daily.  And  truly,  in  this  changeable  and 
ever-changing  world,  this  state  of  our  probation,  we  clergymen 
ought  to  read  and  know  what  is  passing,  and  to  discern  the  signs 
of  the  times,  so  that  we  may  be  able  to  speak  a  word  in  season  to 
the  people  committed  to  our  charge,  I  have  forgotten  the  age  of 
my  dear  old  friend  Mr.  Nunn — will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  mention 
it  when  you  next  write.  I  am  now  in  the  eighty- first  year  of  my 
age.  I  think  he  must  be  six  or  seven  years  younger;  but  it 
appears  that  his  bodily  strength  has  considerably  failed  him,  and 
that  it  is  now  his  duty  not  to  exert  himself,  as  formerly,  but  to  be 
a  little  cautious,  so  that  by  Divine  aid  his  useful  life  may  be 
spared  long  for  the  benefit  of  the  flock  of  our  blessed  Lord  and 
Saviour.  I  preach  once  every  Sabbath  afternoon,  but  I  cannot 
do  more,  Mr.  Nicholls  joins  me  in  kind  regards. — I  remain, 
my  dear  madam,  yours  in  the  best  of  bonds,  P,  BRONTE, 

Mrs.  NUNN,  near  Eye,  Suffolk. 


Letter  711 

TO  MRS.  NUNN 

HAWORTH,  NEAR  KEIGHLEY, 
October  26t&,  1859. 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — I  thank  you  for  the  picture  of  the  Rectory. 
It  is  well  executed,  and  shows  a  very  respectable  and  convenient 
building,  which  is,  I  hope  and  believe,  only  the  earnest  and  fore- 
runner of  'that  House,  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
Heavens/  But  large  and  commodious  as  your  house  is,  I  think 
it  has  no  room  for  a  third  person  as  a  lodger,  who  would  probably 
be  a  discordant  string  that  would  spoil  your  domestic  harmony. 
You  inquired  whether  your  parcels  and  letters  cost  me  anything  ; 
they  all  come  free,  and  I  pay  for  all  I  send  to  you.  The  news- 
paper account  of  the  idle  and  ostentatious  pageantry  got  up  in 
the  church,  where  the  Gospel  was  once  faithfully  preached, 
grieves  me.  But,  my  dear  madam,  a  bad  spirit,  some  call  it  the 
spirit  of  the  age  (I  fear  it  might  rather  be  called  the  spirit  of 
revolution,  vanity,  scepticism,  and  Romish  idolatry),  this  ominous 
spirit  of  the  age  is  actuating  numbers ;  and  the  young,  thought- 
less, and  vain  have  looked  upon,  loved,  and  greedily  embraced  the 
delusion.  But  Christ,  who  conquers  death  and  hell,  will  give  his 


406  THE  BRONTES 

followers  the  victory,  and  make  all  things  work  together  for  good 
to  those  who  enlist  in  his  service,  and  fight  the  good  fight  of 
Faith,  in  his  name,  and  by  his  wisdom  and  power.  All  things 
work  together  for  good  to  those  who  love  God.  Yes,  for  good,  in 
reference  to  both  the  worlds.  I  hope  that  you  will  be  able  to  read 
.this  miserable  scrawl.  My  sight  is  very  scanty,  and  the  day  is 
dim.  Mr.  Nicholls  joins  me  in  kind  regards  to  you  and  my  dear 
old  friend. — Yours  very  truly,  in  the  best  of  bonds, 

P.  BRONTE. 

Mrs.  NUNN,  Rectory,  near  Eye. 
I  have  posted  for  you  a  picture  of  my  house  and  church. 


APPENDIX  I  407 


APPENDIX    I 

MRS.  BRONTE'S  ONLY  LITERARY  EFFORT 

THE  ADVANTAGES   OF  POVERTY   IN  RELIGIOUS  CONCERNS 

POVERTY  is  generally,  if  not  universally,  considered  an  evil;  and  not 
only  an  evil  in  itself,  but  attended  with  a  train  of  innumerable  other 
evils.  But  is  not  this  a  mistaken  notion — one  of  those  prevailing  errors 
which  are  so  frequently  to  be  met  with  in  the  world  and  are  received 
as  uncontroverted  truths?  Let  the  understanding  be  enlightened  by 
divine  grace,  the  judgment  improved  and  corrected  by  an  acquaintance 
with  the  holy  Scriptures,  the  spirit  of  the  world  subdued,  and  the  heart 
filled  with  the  earnest  desires  for  heavenly  attainments  and  heavenly 
enjoyments,  and  then,  what  is  poverty?  Nothing — or  rather  something, 
which,  with  the  assistance  and  blessing  of  our  Gracious  Master,  will 
greatly  promote  our  spiritual  welfare,  and  tend  to  increase  and  strengthen 
our  efforts  to  gain  that  Land  of  pure  delight,  where  neither  our  souls 
nor  bodies  can  possibly  know  pain  or  want.  Perhaps  some  who  are 
daily  and  hourly  sinking  under  the  distresses  and  privations  which  attend 
extreme  poverty,  should  this  paper  fall  in  the  way  of  any  such,  may  be 
ready  to  say  that  the  writer  never  experienced  its  horrors,  and  is  therefore 
unqualified  to  judge  of  its  effects — they  may  indignantly  exclaim,  '  Is  it 
not  an  evil  to  be  deprived  of  the  necessaries  of  life?  Can  there  be  any 
anguish  equal  to  that  occasioned  by  the  sight  of  objects,  dear  as  your 
own  soul,  famishing  with  cold  and  hunger?  Is  it  not  an  evil  to  hear 
the  heart-rending  cries  of  your  children  craving  for  that  which  you  have 
it  not  in  your  power  to  give  them  ?  And,  as  an  aggravation  of  this  dis- 
tress, to  know  that  some  are  surfeited  by  abundance  at  the  same  time 
that  you  and  yours  are  perishing  for  want  ? '  Yes,  these  are  evils  indeed 
of  peculiar  bitterness;  and  he  must  be  less  than  man  that  can  behold 
them  without  sympathy  and  an  active  desire  to  relieve  them.  But  those 
sufferers  possess  not  the  qualifications  described  above,  which  alone 
can  enable  any  human  being  to  consider  poverty  in  any  other  light  than 
an  evil  They  have  not  had  their  hearts,  understandings,  and  judgments 
changed  by  divine  grace;  nor  are  these  the  characters  who  can  look 
forward  to  another  life  with  the  pleasing,  invigorating  hope  of  finding  it 
to  be  a  life  of  perfect,  unchanging,  and  everlasting  bliss.  Such  a  wretched 
extremity  of  poverty  is  seldom  experienced  in  this  land  of  general  benevo- 
lence. When  a  case  of  this  kind  occurs,  it  is  to  be  feared  the  sufferers 
bring  it  on  themselves  by  their  own  excess  and  imprudent  folly;  but 
even  when  they  reap  the  fruit  of  their  doings,  they  are  not  permitted 


408  THE  BRONTES 

long  to  suffer.  The  penetrating  eye  of  Christian  charity  soon  discovers, 
and  its  hand  is  as  soon  stretched  out  for  their  relief.  The  poor  but 
honest  and  industrious  Christian,  for  whose  benefit  this  humble  attempt 
is  made,  is  scarcely  ever  suffered  to  languish  in  extreme  want,  yet  he 
may  be  exposed  to  great  distresses,  which  at  times  he  is  tempted  to 
consider  evils  hard  to  be  endured :  at  most  repines  at  his  lot,  and  thinks 
that  the  God  who  is  declared  to  be  merciful  to  #//,  and  whose  tender 
mercies  are  said  to  be  over  all  His  works^  has  forgotten  to  be  gracious  to 
him.  Dismiss  these  unworthy  thoughts,  my  Christian  friends ;  they  come 
from  the  enemy  of  your  immortal  interests  and  the  father  of  lies.  Rather 
consider  that  though  you  have  now  no  visible  supply,  and  know  not 
from  whence  the  wants  of  to-morrow  are  to  meet  with  relief,  there  is 
One  above  in  Whose  hands  are  all  the  riches  of  the  earth,  Who  sees 
your  necessities,  and  has  faithfully  promised  that  all  things  shall  work 
together  for  your  good.  Consider  that  you  are  not  exposed  to  the 
prevailing  temptation  of  laying  up  treasure  on  earth.  Though  your 
circumstances  prevent  you  from  providing  fortunes  for  your  children, 
yet  there  are  many  honest  callings  and  respectable  trades  open  ever  to 
the  children  of  poverty  whereby  they  may  get  their  bread  in  peace  and 
credit,  and  with  the  blessing  of  their  Heavenly  Father  gain  a  supply  for 
nature's  wants.  Being  prevented  from  sharing  in  the  luxuries  of  life, 
you  are  less  liable  to  be  assailed  by  the  corrupt  dispositions  and  dis- 
orderly passions  which  an  enjoyment  of  these  luxuries  tends  to  produce. 
You  think  now,  perhaps,  that  you  could  be  temperate  in  the  midst  of 
plenty,  but  the  human  heart  is  not  to  be  trusted,  and  we  are  assured  from 
the  sacred  writings  that  'it  is  deceitful  above  all  things  and  desperately 
wicked/  Possessing  the  means  of  gratifying  every  perverse,  idle,  and 
inordinate  inclination,  who  dares  say  he  would  not  be  led  into  those  vain 
and  sinful  excesses  which  would  infallibly  lead  to  unhappiness  in  this 
world  and  to  endless  misery  in  the  world  to  come  ?  That  poverty  which 
is  sanctified  by  true  religion  is  perhaps  the  state  most  free  from  care  and 
discontent,  the  farthest  removed  from  pride  and  ambition,  and  the  most 
calculated  to  promote  scriptural  views  and  feelings,  awl  the  universal 
welfare  of  the  soul.  The  man  who  possesses  little  of  this  world  has 
consequently  but  little  to  attach  him  to  it ;  he  is  not  so  much  tempted 
to  be  attracted  by  its  riches  nor  its  pleasures;  he  cannot  experimentally 
love  that  which  he  does  not  possess ;  he  cannot  delight  in  that  which  he 
has  no  opportunity  of  enjoying.  Having  nothing  to  lose,  he  fears  not 
the  approach  of  the  ^spoiler.  Neither  oppression  nor  violence  can  add 
to  his  wants  or  deprive  him  of  his  riches.  As  he  has  no  property  to 
improve  or  secure,  he  is  free  from  the  anxious  inquietude  and  perplexing 
care  of  the  man  of  business.  If  his  days  are  spent  in  honest  labour,  his 
nights  afford  the  sweet  refreshment  of  peaceful  slumbers.  His  coarse 
but  wholesome  meal,  eaten  with  relish  and  followed  by  thankfulness  and 
contentment,  invigorates  the  active  body,  and  fits  it  for  the  exertions 
necessary  to  earn  another.  Content  with  his  lot,  he  envies  not  his  more 
prosperous  neighbour;  unless,  perhaps,  in  seasons  of  peculiar  distress, 
when  he  has  himself  been  relieved  by  the  bounty  of  another,  a  wish  has 
been  excited  in  his  heart  that  it  were  in  his  power  to  show  his  gratitude 
to  his  Heavenly  Benefactor  by  contributing  to  the  necessities  of  others. 


APPENDIX  I  409 

But  this  wish  is  quickly  repressed  by  the  conviction  that  God  knows 
what  is  best,  and  has  given  to  each  that  portion  which  will  tend  most  to 
His  glory  and  the  lasting  good  of  His  children. 

Far  removed  from  the  ensnaring  and  tumultuous  scenes  of  a  vain, 
unthinking  world,  he  is  not  ambitious  of  its  honour  nor  proud  of  its  fame. 
He  does  not  even  understand  its  principles  nor  its  language.  It  might 
be  said  that  though  the  poor  man  is  not  liable  to  the  temptations  which 
peculiarly  assail  the  rich,  yet  he  is  liable  to  others  which  commonly 
prevail  among  the  poor,  such  as  envy,  murmuring,  ingratitude,  and 
covetousness.  But  it  is  necessary  to  remind  the  reader  that  poverty  is 
here  considered  as  united  with  religion,  and  that,  so  united,  it  is  exposed 
to  fewer  temptations  than  is  a  state  of  prosperity,  and  attended  with 
greater  religious  advantages.  The  poor  need  not  fear  incurring  con- 
tempt by  making  a  religious  profession.  A  religious  and  orderly  conduct 
will  ensure  him  commendation  rather  than  censure.  And  if  his  habitual 
practice  is  found  to  agree  with  his  profession,  he  will  meet  with  that 
confidence,  respect,  and  attention  which  he  could  never  have  experienced 
on  any  other  ground.  Free  from  the  pride  and  prejudice  of  learning 
and  philosophy,  his  mind  is  prepared  to  receive  the  truths  that  the  Bible 
inculcates.  He  yields  to  the  inward  workings  of  the  spirit  of  truth  • 
with  simplicity  receives  the  various  and  unspeakable  blessings  purchased 
for  him  by  the  Saviour's  blood ;  nor  once  thinks  of  opposing  the  weakness 
of  human  reason  to  the  divine  Revelation.  He  may  have  less  leisure 
for  reading,  but  he  has  little  to  call  his  thoughts  from  divine  meditation 
and  mental  prayer,  the  practice  of  which  tends  more  to  keep  up  the  life 
of  God  in  the  soul  than  the  closest  study  and  most  enlarged  acquaintance 
with  human  learning  independent  of  these.  Having  no  worldly  ties,  he 
contemplates  with  holy  joy  the  inheritance  laid  up  for  the  saints,  and, 
with  a  hope  full  of  assurance  through  the  alone  merits  of  his  Redeemer, 
expects  ere  long  to  be  made  a  partaker  of  that  inheritance,  and  to  join 
the  heavenly  throng  in  eternal  bliss. 

Taking  this  view  of  Poverty,  where  are  the  evils  attending  it?  Do 
they  not  appear  to  be  imaginary?  But  0,  what  words  can  express  the 
great  misery  of  those  who  suffer  all  the  evils  of  poverty  here,  and  that, 
too,  by  their  own  bad  conduct,  and  have  no  hope  of  happiness  hereafter, 
but  rather  have  cause  to  fear  that  the  end  of  this  miserable  life  will  be 
the  beginning  of  another,  infinitely  more  miserable,  never,  never  to  have 
an  end ! 

It  surely  is  the  duty  of  all  Christians  to  exert  themselves  in  every 
possible  way  to  promote  the  instruction  and  conversion  of  the  poor,  and, 
above  all,  to  pray  with  all  the  ardour  of  Christian  faith  and  love  that 
every  poor  man  may  be  a  religious  man,  M. 

Endorsed  on  the  Manuscript  in  Mr.  Bronte's  handwriting  are  the 
words : — 

The  above  was  written  by  my  dear  wife,  and  sent  for  insertion  in  one 
of  the  periodical  publications.  Keep  it  as  a  memorial  of  her. 


410  THE  BRONTES 


APPENDIX    II 

[This  document  was  contributed  by  Prof.  C.  C.  Moore  Smith,  of  University  College, 
Sheffield,  to  the  Bookman  for  October  1904,  and  is  by  his  permission  included  here.] 

THE  BRONTES  AT  THORNTON 

MY  grandmother,  Miss  Elizabeth  Firth,  was  born  on  January  2,  1797. 
She  was  the  only  child  of  John  Scholefield  Firth,  of  Kipping  House, 
Thornton,  near  Bradford,  the  house  which  a  century  earlier  was  the  home 
of  his  ancestor,  Dr.  John  Hall,  a  stalwart  Independent,  whose  name  is 
well  known  to  the  readers  of  Joseph  Lister's  Autobiography  and  Oliver 
Heywood's  Diaries.  Kipping  House  still  stands,  and  by  it  a  barn-like 
building  bearing  the  date  1669,  which  was  ready  for  use  as  a  meeting- 
house when  the  Declaration  of  Indulgence  in  1672  allowed  meeting- 
houses to  be  opened.  The  licence  granted  to  Dr.  Hall  for  this  purpose 
is  now  in  the  possession  of  my  cousin,  Mr.  H.  E,  Franks.  My  grand- 
mother was  sent  in  the  years  1812-1813  to  the  famous  ladies'  school 
established  at  Crofton  Hall,  near  Wakefield,  and  presided  over  by  Miss 
Richmal  Mangnall,  the  author  of  MangnaWs  Questions.  Leaving  school  in 
June  1813  she  returned  to  her  home  at  Thornton.  A  year  later  her 
mother  (before  marriage,  Miss  Elizabeth  Holt)  was  thrown  out  of  a  gig 
and  killed  instantaneously  before  her  own  windows.  Accordingly  my 
grandmother — as  a  young  girl  of  eighteen— was  keeping  house  for  her 
father,  when  in  1815  the  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte  removed  from  Hartshead  to 
succeed  the  Rev.  Thos.  Atkinson  as  incumbent  of  Thornton  Chapel.1 
Mr.  Bronte  had  married  (Dec.  29,  1812)  Miss  Maria  Branwell  of 
Penzance,  and  two  daughters,  Maria  and  a  second  infant,  had  been 
born  to  him  before  his  removal  to  Thornton  on  i9th  May  1815.  My 
grandmother  naturally  made  speedy  acquaintance  with  the  new  clergy- 
man and  his  wife,  and  when  the  baby  daughter  (born  at  Hartshead  on 
Feb.  8th)  was  christened  at  Thornton  on  August  26th,  Mr.  Firth  was  its 
godfather,  and  Miss  Firth  was  godmother  together  with  Miss  Branwell, 
the  child's  aunt.  It  was  probably  in  honour  of  my  grandmother  that  the 
child  was  named  Elizabeth.  From  this  time  onwards  till  the  Brontes  left 
Thornton  for  Haworth 2  there  was  constant  friendly  intercourse  between 

1  The  old  Bell  Chapel  at  Thornton  was  demolished  about  fifteen  years  ago  after  the 
opening  of  a  new  church. 

2  Mrs*  Gaskell,  Lift  of  Charlotte  Bronte^  p.  26  (ed.  1891),  states  that  the  removal 
took  place  on  25th  Feb.  i#2O     Curiously  enough,  under  this  very  date  my  grandmother 
writes,  *  Mr.  Bronte  was  licensed  to  Haworth, '  but  from  subsequent  entries  it  would 
seem  that  the  Brontes  still  remained  at  Thornton  for  some  time  longer.    On  April  5 
the  entry  in  the  diary  is,  'Took  leave  of  Mr.  Bronte  before  leaving  home.'    It  wouM 
seem  that  the  Brontes  left  Thornton  between  this  date  and  May  2,  when  Miss  Firth 
returned  from  Scarborough. 


APPENDIX  II  411 

the _  clergyman's  family  at  Kipping  House  (Mr.  Firth  had  been  married 
again  on  6th  Sept.  1815  to  Miss  Ann  Greame).  During  these  years 
at  Thornton  all  the  rest  of  Mr.  Bronte's  children  were  born,  Charlotte 
on  April  21,  1816,  Patrick  Branwell  (called  in  my  grandmother's  diary 
on  the  day  of  his  birth  Branwell  Patrick)  on  June  26,  1817,  Emily  Jane 
on  July  30,  1818,  and  Anne  on  Jan.  17,  1820.  I  may  point  out  that 
these  dates,  except  that  of  the  birth  of  Charlotte,  seem  not  to  have  been 
known  to  the  writer  of  the  article  on  the  Brontes  in  the  Dictionary  of 
National  Biography,  My  grandmother  was  again  godmother  to  Anne 
Bronte,  and,  as  I  have  always  been  told,  to  Charlotte,  though  I  do  not 
find  the  latter  fact  recorded  by  herself.  I  have  also  heard  that  my  grand- 
father, Mr.  Franks,  claimed  to  have  been  Charlotte's  godfather. 

During  all  the  years  from  1812  to  1820  my  grandmother  put  down  in 
the  briefest  and  barest  form  in  a  pocket-book  some  fact  for  almost  each, 
day  of  her  uneventful  life.  They  are  in  a  sense  very  insignificant  entries, 
but  such  is  the  interest  felt  in  that  strange  Bronte  household,  that  it  seems 
worth  while  to  put  into  print  even  the  number  of  times  that  the  Rev. 
Patrick  Bronte  went  out  to  tea,  if  only  to  show  that  Mrs.  Gaskell's  picture 
of  the  stern  man,  unsocial  in  his  habits,  however  true  of  the  Haworth 
time,  is  not  true  of  the  years  spent  at  Thornton.  And  other  entries, 
again,  help  to  make  a  picture  of  the  daily  employments  and  interests  of  a 
young  lady  living  in  the  coup  try  in  the  time  when  Miss  Austen  was  draw- 
ing other  such  young  ladies  in  her  novels.  After  1820  the  entries  in  Miss 
Firth's  diary  are  more  scanty  and  have  little  more  than  a  family  interest 
The  volumes  extended  to  1825,  but  thatfor  1821  is  unfortunately  missing. 
In  that  year  (on  Sept.  15)  Mrs.  Bronte  died  at  Haworth.  Mr.  Firth  had  died 
on  Dec.  27,  1819,  an^  n*s  daughter  lived  on  at  Kipping  in  her  own  right 
with  her  stepmother,  to  whom  she  evidently  became  much  attached.  At 
this  time,  according  to  a  family  tradition,  Mr.  Bronte  wooed  Miss  Firth 
to  be  his  second  wife,  and  his  letters  to  her  were  only  destroyed  just 
before  the  Miss  Brontes  became  famous.  It  is  interesting  to  surmise  how 
the  lives  of  the  sisters  and  the  history  of  English  literature  would  have 
been  affected  if  Mr.  Bronte's  income  had  been  largely  increased  by  the 
addition  of  Miss  Firth's  little  fortune,  and  if  his  children  had  had  the 
motherly  care  of  one  who,  according  to  .all  accounts,  was  a  most  sweet 
and  perfect  woman.  Perhaps  literature  gained  by  the  sisters7  loss :  and  it 
was  necessary  for  them  to  learn  in  suffering  what  they  taught  in  romance. 
Mr.  Bronte  did  not  succeed  in  his  suit,  perhaps  because  the  lady's  heart 
was  already  engaged  elsewhere.  Miss  Firth  left  her  childhood's  home  on 
April  27,  1824,  and  was  married  on  the  following  aist  Sept.  to  the  Rev. 
James  Clarke  Franks,  Vicar  of  Huddersfield,  son  of  an  old  family  friend, 
the  Rev.  James  Franks,  incumbent  of  Sowerby  Bridge,  Halifax.  I  have 
a  record  that  on  their  wedding  tour  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Franks  called  to  see  the 
Miss  Brontes  at  Cowan  Bridge,  where  they  were  at  the  Clergy  Daughters' 
School,  directed  by  the  Rev.  William  Carus  Wilson,  and  in  my  grand- 
mother's account-book  there  is  the  entry,  '3  Miss  Brontes,  2/6  each,' 
The  letters  from  Charlotte  Bronte  and  her  father  which  I  include  in  this 
paper,  show  that  Mrs.  Franks's  interest  in  the  motherless  girls  was  not  lost. 
But  already  at  the  date  of  Charlotte's  second  letter,  June  2,  1836,  my 
grandmother's  health  had  failed  in  consequence  of  an  attack  of  the 


412  THE  BRONTES 

prevalent  influenza  in  1835,  and  she  died  when  on  a  visit  to  her  friend 
Dr.  Outhwaite  at  Bradford,  on  nth  Sept.  1837.  My  grandfather  left 
Huddersfield  in  1840,  and  from  that  time  neither  he  nor  his  children 
probably  saw  any  of  the  Brontes  again. 

There  is  a  lady  now  living  at  an  advanced  age  from  whose  bright 
intellect  I  had  hoped  to  have  gleaned  a  few  memories  of  the  early  days 
recorded  in  Miss  Firth's  diary.  But  she  was  born,  it  seems,  a  few  years 
too  late.  She  writes :  '  My  recollection  of  your  grandmother  is  simply 
that  she  was  the  sweetest  lady  I  have  ever  seen,  but  I  think  I  only  saw 
her  once,  on  her  return  from  her  wedding  trip.  I  only  saw  the  Miss 
Brontes  once,  and  had  difficulty  in  realising  one  of  those  very  queer  girls 
as  the  authoress  of  fane  Eyre.  I  was  very  little  at  Kipping,  a  raw  school- 
girl, 80  years  since.' 

I  append  extracts  from  Miss  Firth's  diary,  which  illustrate  the  life  led  by 
the  Brontes  at  Thornton  : l — 

1815 

March  $th.  The  last  time  I  heard  Mr.  Atkinson  preach.  i6th*  We  met 
Mr.  Atkinson,  he  wished  me  good-bye.  17^.  I  came  to  Lascelles  Hall. 

April  $Qth.  Mr.  Atkinson  preached  his  farewell  sermons  at  Thornton 
Chapel  from  these  words — Romans,  c.  x.  v.  ist;  2  Corinthians,  c.  xiii. 
v.  nth — 'Finally,  brethren,  farewell.'  The  congregation  appeared  much 
affected,  and  at  the  conclusion  sung  the  hymn  beginning : 

'With  all  Thy  power,  O  Lord,  defend 
Him  whom  we  now  to  Thee  commend.' 

May  igtb,  Mr.  Bronte  came  to  reside  at  Thornton. 

June  6th.  We  came  home  in  the  evening.  ith.  I  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 
gth.  We  met  Mr.  Bronte's  family  at  Mr.  Kay's,  iith.  See  St.  Matthew, 
c.  xiii.  vs.  3-9.  The  Parable  of  the  Sower,  The  first  time  I  heard  Mr. 
Bronte  preach.  12 fh.  Mrs.  Bronte  and  Miss  Bran  well  called.  14^, 
Drank  tea  at  Mrs.  Bronte's.  i$th.  I  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's,  sort.  We 
had  the  Outhwaites,  Brontes,  and  Miss  M.  Ibbotson  to  dinner.  z6th. 
We  walked  with  Mr.  Brontes 2  to  the  top  of  Allerton. 

July  tfh.  I  walked  to  Swill  Hill  with  Mr.  Brontes.  t^th.  I  called  at 
Mr.  Bronte's.  2$rd.  See  Psalm  xlvi.  A  collection  was  made  for  the 
widows  and  orphans  of  those  who  fell  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo.  24^ 
Mrs.  Bronte  and  Miss  Branwell  called. 

August  ist.  Mr.  Bronte  called,  yd.  I  went  to  sit  with  Mrs.  Bronte  in 
the  evening,  zisf.  Mrs.  Bronte,  Miss  Branwell,  and  I  drank  tea  at  Mr. 
Tom  Ibbotson's.  262^,  Sunday,  Mr.  Bronte's  second  daughter  was 
christened  Elizabeth  by  Mr,  Fennel.  My  papa  was  godfather.  Miss 
Branwell  and  I  were  godmothers. 

September  2nd,  I  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.     6th,  My  papa  was  married  to 

1  I  have  been  told  that  the  clerk  of  Thornton  Chapel,  who  was  something  of  a 
curiosity,  once  when  giving  out  in  church  a  notice  about  the  schools  announced  '  Miss 
Firth  will  teach  the  graces— his  rendering  of  'will  teach  gratis.3 

2  This  form  of  expression  occurs  so  often  that  it  would  seem  to  be  an  abbreviation  for 
Mr.  Bronte's  family,  or  'Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bronte.' 


APPENDIX  II  413 

Miss  Greame  at  Bradford  Church  by  Mr.  Morgan.1  The  bridal  party 
dined  at  Exley  and  came  here  in  the  evening.  i8M.  Mr.  Brontes  called. 
zoth.  Mr  Brontes  and  Mrs.  Morgan  drank  tea  here.  2ist.  We  called  at 
Mr.  Bronte's. 

October  iith.  Oratorio  and  concert.  12  th.  Oratorio  of  the  Messiah. 
Christ's  Church  at  Bradford  was  consecrated.  13^.  We  attended  the 
oratorio  and  concert  as  we  had  done  the  two  preceding  days.  242$.  Miss 
Branwell  called.  *$th.  We  drank  tea  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  302^.  Mr.  Brontes 
drank  tea  here. 

November  *6th.  Miss  Branwell  and  I  went  to  J.  Jowett's.  30^.  Miss 
Branwell  came  to  tea. 


December  6th.  I  attended  a  chemical  lecture  by  Mr.  Webster. 
Mr.  Bronte  called.  iStA.  I  attended  Mr.  Lancaster's  lecture,  igth.  I 
attended  a  lecture  on  optics  by  Mr.  Webster.  2\st.  I  attended  Mr. 
Webster's  second  astronomical  lecture.  25^.  Mr.  Bronte  took  tea  here. 

1816 

January  6th.  Mrs.  Firth  and  I  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  13^.  I  called 
at  Mr.  Bronte's.  182$.  A  day  of  public  thanksgiving  for  the  restoration 
of  Peace.  22nd.  Read  Lord  of  the  Isles  again.  23^.  Mr.  Bronte  drank 
tea  here.  302$.  Mrs.  Bronte  and  Miss  Branwell  called. 

February  ^rd.  Mr.  Bronte  called.  $th.  Mrs.  Bronte  and  Miss  Branwell 
called.  7/A  Mr.  Bronte  called.  8M.  Elizabeth  Bronte  was  a  year  old 
this  day.  gtk.  Mrs.  Bronte  and  I  called  at  Mrs.  J>  Ibbotson's.  i^th.  I 
called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  i8/^,  Sunday.  Mr.  Morgan  preached.  2ist. 
I  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 

March  t$th.  Miss  Branwell  drank  tea  here.  Mr.  Bronte  came  in  the 
evening. 

April  2ist,  Sunday.  C.  Bronte  was  born, 

May  2$rd.  My  papa  was  worse  again;  another  blister.  242$.  Papa 
had  twelve  leeches  on.  2$th.  Mr.  Bronte  went  to  prayer  with  my  papa. 
27  th.  Mr.  Bronte  again.  My  papa  was  very  ill.  zgth.  My  papa's  dis- 
order came  to  a  crisis  and,  thank  God,  took  a  favourable  turn. 

June  4//£.  Mr.  Bronte  called.  *jth.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's,  gth.  I  was 
most  happy  to  see  my  dear  papa  once  more  downstairs.  May  I  be  truly 
thankful  for  this  great  mercy,  fjth.  Mrs.  Bronte  called.  iStft.  Mr,  and 
Mrs.  Bronte  and  Miss  Branwell  came  to  tea. 

July  ist.  Mr.  Bronte  drank  tea  here.,  tfh.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 
I7//&.  We  drank  tea  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  i8*#.  The  ladies  assisted  me  in 
altering  a  gown.  25^.  Mrs.  Bronte  and  Miss  Branwell  drank  tea  here 
the  last  time.  28^.  I  took  leave  of  Miss  Branwell.  She  kissed  me  and 
was  much  affected.  She  left  Thornton  that  evening.  29^.  We  called  at 
Mr.  Bronte's.  31^.  We  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 

1  About  the  same  time  as  Mr.  Bronte  married  Miss  Maria  Branwell  of  Penzance,  the 
Rev.  Wm.  Morgan  had  married  her  cousin,  Mr.  Morgan  was  afterwards  incumbent  of 
Christ  Church  >  Bradford. 


414  THE  BRONTES 

August  ist.  Mr.  Brontes  to  tea.  nth.  Thornton-tide;  a  wet  day;  did 
not  go  to  church,  i2th.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  Had  a  party  of  twenty- 
nine,  chiefly  from  Bradford. 

September  2$rd.  Came  home.  Mr.  Bronte  called.  $oth.  I  called  at 
Mr.  Bronte's.  (In  Cash  Account  for  September  1816  occurs  the  entry : 
'  Frock  for  one  of  the  Brontes,  1 6s.:) 

October  izth.  Mr.  Bronte  drank  tea  here.      22nd,  Mrs.  Bronte  called. 

November  142^.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bronte  to  tea.  iqth.  Tea  at  Mr. 
Bronte's.  We  observed  a  beautiful  eclipse  of  the  sun  ;  the  sky  was  very 
clear  till  it  arrived  at  its  greatest  obscurity ;  it  was  afterwards  enveloped 
in  clouds — a  great  gloom,  302$.  We  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 

December  nth.  Mr.  Bronte  at  tea.  i$th,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bronte  to  tea. 
i6th.  Mr.  and  Mrs,  Bronte  to  dinner.  28^.  I  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 

1817 

January  $Qth.  Mrs.  Bronte  called. 

February  ist.  Mr.  Bronte  called.  i2th.  I  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 
i$th.  Mrs.  Bronte  to  tea.  i^th.  Got  two  new  shillings.  A  new  silver 
coinage  was  exchanged  for  the  old.  zisf.  Mr,  Bronte  to  tea.  26th. 
Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  28^.  Tea  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 

March  $rd.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  i$th.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bronte  to 
tea.  iStfr.  Miss  Thomas  came  to  Mr.  Bronte's.  19 f A.  Mrs.  Kays  and 
Mr.  Bronte  to  tea.  2o//%.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's,  2ist.  Tea  at  Mr. 
Bronte's.  27^.  Went  to  Bradford.  28^.  I  came  home  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Bronte.  Bought  Mason  on  Self- Knowledge.  $ist.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Bronte  called. 

April  nth.  We  had  Mr.  Brontes  to  tea.  22nd.  Called  at  Spring  Head 
with  Mr.  Bronte  and  Miss  Thomas.  2-$rd.  Walked  with  Mrs.  Bronte  and 
Miss  Thomas. 

May  2nd.  We  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  6th.  Mrs.  Bronte  called.  8M. 
Finished  moss-basket.  A  ramble  with  Miss  Thomas.  92$.  Mr.  Horsfall 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bronte's  family  dined  here.  nth.  Sunday-school 
commences.  132^.  My  papa  and  Mr.  Bronte  went  to  Wakefield  to  vote 
for  Mr.  Scott.  Stopped  all  night  at  Longlands.  t^th.  They  came  home. 
i6th.  Walked  to  Lower  Height  Farm,  Miss  Thomas  with  us.  i8/^.  I 
began  of  attending  Sunday-school.  F.  Greame  and  Miss  Thomas 
with  me. 

June  >jth.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.      9^.  Mrs.  Bronte  called. 
Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.    2ist,  Read  Old  Mortality,  did  not  like  it.  . 

Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.    26th.  Went  to  see  Mrs.  Bronte.    Branwell  Patrick 
was  born  early  in  the  morning. 

July  ist.  I  drank  tea  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  >jth.  I  called  to  see  Mrs.  Bront& 
i%th.  We  saw  the  Confirmation  and  Visitation  at  Wakefield. 

August  6th.  We  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  j/£.  Mr.  Bronte*  called.  n/A 
Mr.  Bronte  called.  26th.  Mr.  Bronte  to  supper. 


APPENDIX  II  415 

Seffemter  8///.  Mr,  Brontes  to  tea.  23^.  Mr.  Sterndale  sketched 
Kipping.  24/7*.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 

October  8//£.  Mr.  Brontes  to  tea.  i6//j.  Mr.  Brontes  to  tea.  $ist.  Mr. 
Bronte  called. 

November  $rd.  Mr.  Bronte  and  I  drank  tea  with  Mrs.  John  Ibbotson. 
6th.  I  went  to  Bradford  with  Mr.  Bronte.  The  Princess  Charlotte  of 
Wales  died,  i  zth.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Franks  and  Mrs.  Naylor  came  and  Mr. 
Redhead  and  Mr.  Brontes  dined  here.  iZth.  The  ever  to  be  lamented 
Princess  Charlotte  was  interred.  Service  in  all  places  of  worship.  19^. 
Mr.  Bronte  called.  2\th*  I  drank  tea  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 

December  ust*  Mr.  Bronte  called. 

1818 

January  ^th.  Mr.  Bronte  to  supper.  Zth.  Mr.  Bronte  spent  the 
evening  here.  12/72.  I  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's,  zznd.  I  drank  tea  with 
Mrs.  Bronte.  272^.  Tea  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 

February  izth,  Expected  Mr.  Bronte  to  tea,  but  Mrs.  B.  was  poorly. 
1  6th.  I  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 

April  i6th.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bronte  took  tea  here.  2oth.  We  walked  to 
Bradford  with  Mr.  Bronte  and  returned  the  same  evening.  22nd.  Read 
Lalla  Rookh, 

May  i$th.  Read  Young's  Night  Thoughts,  iqth.  Mr.  Bronte,  F.  O.,1 
and  I  went  to  Ogden  Kirk.  22nd.  Read  Remains  of  H.  K.  White.  29^. 
Mr.  Bronte  called. 

June  i2th.  Mr.  Bronte  drank  tea  here.  i$th.  Mr.  Bronte  to  tea.  25^. 
Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  26th,  Mr.  Brontes  and  Miss  Ibbotson  to  dinner. 
2gth.  F.  0.,  Mr.  Bronte,  and  I  took  tea  at  Mr.  J.  Ibbotson's. 

July  %th.  Mr.  Bronte  called.  n/A.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  15^.  I 
called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  \6th.  Mr.  Bronte  called  here.  302$,  Emily  Jane 
Bronte  was  born. 


August  I7/&  We  were  at  Mr.  Bronte's.     19^.  Mr.  Bronte  to  dinner. 
I  drank  tea  at  Mr.  Bronte's. 


September  24^.  Mr.  Brontes  to  tea. 

October  %th.  Mr.  Brontes  to  dinner.     2$rd,  Tea  at  Mr.  Bronte's, 

November  znd>  Mr.  Brontes  and  Miss  Ibbotson  to  tea.  $th.  I  went  to 
hear  Mr.  Richmond  yesterday.  Came  home  with  Mr,  Bronte.  loM. 
Went  to  look  at  the  Angel  in  Thornton  Chapel,  i^jth.  Mr.  Bronte  called. 
I9/&  Heard  of  the  Queen's  death.  22nd,  Put  on  mourning  for  the 
Queen.  30/A.  Mr.  Brontes  to  tea, 

JDtamier  tfh*  Called  at  Mrs.  Bronte's.  6M.  Thornton  Chapel  reopened. 
8/&  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  9^.  Repaired  Chapel  books,  ivth.  Mr, 

1  Miss  Fanny  Outhvraite  of  Bradford,  a  schoolfellow  and  almost  a  sister  to  Miss  Firth, 
stood  with  her  as  godmother  to  Anne  Bronte  and  left  the  latter  ^200  by  wilL 


416  THE  BRONTES 

Brontes  to  tea.  nth.  We  drank  tea  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  172^.  I  went  to 
Bradford  with  Mr.  Bronte.  iqth.  Came  home  with  Mr.  Bronte.  26th. 
Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  2%tL  Mr.  Bronte  to  tea. 

1819 

January  2nd.  Read  the  Heart  of  Midlothian.  $th.  Mr.  Brontes  to  tea 
Sth.  M.  E.  and  C.  Bronte  to  tea.  i8/&  Mr.  Brontes  to  tea.  26th.  Mr 
Bronte  in  the  evening. 

March  ^th.  Mr.  Brontes  to  tea.  Zth.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  17/4. 
Mr.  Bronte  called.  26th.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  27^.  Tea  at  Mr. 
Bronte's. 

May  6th.  Mr.  Brontes  to  tea. 

September  2<)th.  Came  home  in  safety,  thank  God.  $oth.  Mr.  Bronte 
to  breakfast.  He  and  Mrs.  Bronte  to  tea. 


October  ^th.  The  little  Brontes  called,    yth.  Mr.  Brontes  to  tea. 
Mr.  Brontes  to  tea.     19^.  Tea  at  Mr.  Bronte's.     2$th.  Mr.  Bronte  to 
tea.     2%th.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bronte  to  tea. 

November  2nd.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  $rd.  My  mother  and  I  walked 
to  Swirrel,1  Mr,  Bronte  with  us.  6th.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's,  nth.  I 
called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  i2th.  Mr.  Bronte  called.  i6th.  I  called  to  see 
Mrs.  Bronte.  182$.  I  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  2$rd.  Mr.  Bronte  to 
tea. 


December  $rd.  I  called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  lo/A  Mr.  Bronte  called, 
Mr.  Bronte  to  supper.  i$th.  Drank  tea  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  2yd.  We  called 
at  Mr.  Bronte's.  2%th.  Mr,  Bronte  to  tea.  $Qth.  Mr.  Bronte  and  I  went 
to  Bradford. 

1820 

January  tfh.  Mr.  Bronte  called.  6th.  Read  Goldsmith's  History  oj 
Rome.  >]th.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  17  th.  Anne  Bronte  born.  The 
other  children  spent  the  day  here.  (The  Cash  Account  for  January  1820 
contains  the  entry,  'Gave  at  A.  Bronte's  christening,  £i.9)  i8//$.  I  called 
at  Mr.  Bronte's.  26th.  Mr.  Bronte  to  tea. 

February  iSth.  Called  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  2ist.  Mr.  Bronte  in  the  even- 
ing. 2$rd.  Tea  at  Mr.  Bronte's.  25^.  Mr.  Bronte  was  licensed  to 
Haworth. 

March  yd.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bronte  to  dinner.  8/A  Mr.  Bronte  in  the 
evening.  13^.  Mr.  Bronte  in  the  evening.  i8rt.  Mr,  BrontS  called 
2isf.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bronte  to  tea.  2$th,  Anne  Bronte  was  christened  by 
Mr.  Morgan;  F.  Outhwaite  and  I  were  godmothers.  31^.  Good  Friday; 
no  service.  We  sat  up  expecting  the  Radicals.2 

1  A  farm  at  Thornton  belonging  to  Mr.  Firth. 

2  I  have  been  told  that  Mr.  Bronte,  who  had  seen  the  Irish  rebellion,  by  his  pro- 
phecies of  what  was  coming  in  England,  almost  frightened  Mr.  Firth  to  death,  so  that 
he  had  all  his  windows  barred  up  in  consequence  of  Mr.  Bronte'?s  warnings. 


APPENDIX  II  417 

April  yd.  I  called  at  Mr,  Brontes.  $th.  Took  leave  of  Mr.  Bronte 
before  leaving  home. 

June  6tk.  Mr.  Bronte  came.     Mr.  Bronte  went  home. 

December  %rd.  My  papa  complained  of  shivering.  $th.  My  papa  was 
very  ill.  Q//Z.  My  papa  worse.  lo/Vi  My  papa  was  carried  into  the 
drawing-room,  i$t/i.  Mr.  Bronte  dined  here.  i^th.  Alarmed  with  my 
father.  i8/A  My  papa  very  ill,  aoM,  My  dear  papa  suffered  great 
depression  of  mind.  zist.  By  God's  blessing  and  Mr.  Bronte's  conversa- 
tion became  more  happy.  2 2nd.  In  holy  ecstasies  all  day,  blessed  be 
God.  ^$rd.  Pretty  composed.  241/1.  My  poor  father's  ideas  still 
wandering,  but  very  cheerful.  26^.  My  dear  father's  last  words  at  half- 
past  eleven — All's  well,  all's  happy.  27^.  At  half-past  two  A.M.  he 
breathed  his  last  without  a  struggle. 

The  following  letters  will  explain  themselves  : — * 


Addressed — Mrs.  Franks,  Vicarage,  Huddersfield. 
Postmark— Bradford,  Yorks.    Ap.  29,  1831.     Postal  charge,  6d 

HAWORTH,  near  BRADFORD, 

YORKSHIRE,  April  2%th,  1831. 

DEAR  MADAM, — Having  heard  of  your  kind  attention  to  Charlotte,  I 
have  taken  the  liberty  of  writing  to  thank  both  Mr.  Franks  and  you  for 
this,  and  to  assure  you  that  we  have  not  forgotten,  in  our  little  family, 
your  other  various  acts  of  kindness.  Charlotte  would  be  highly  gratified. 
She  still  remembered  having  seen  you  at  Kipping,  and  has  often  heard  us 
speak  of  you,  whilst  we  took  a  retrospective  view  of  Good  Old  Times.  I 
have  just  received  a  letter  from  our  mutual  friend,  Miss  Outhwaite,  which 
has  given  me  some  uneasiness.  It  appears  that  some  whose  opinions  I 
highly  value  greatly  misunderstand  my  motives,  in  being  an  advocate  for 
temperate  reform,  both  in  church  and  state.  I  am  in  all  respects  now, 
what  I  was  when  I  lived  in  Thornton — in  regard  to  all  political  considera- 
tions, A  warmer  or  truer  friend  to  church  and  state  does  not  breathe  the 
vital  air.  But,  after  many  years'  mature  deliberation,  I  am  fully  convinced 
that,  unless  the  real  friends  of  our  excellent  institutions  come  forward 
and  advocate  the  cause  of  temperate  reform,  the  inveterate  enemies  will 
avail  themselves  of  the  opportunity  which  this  circumstance  would  give 
them,  and  will  work  on  the  popular  feeling— already  but  too  much  excited 
— so  as  to  cause,  in  all  probability,  general  insurrectionary  movements, 
and  bring  about  a  revolution.  We  see  what  has  been  lately  done  in 
France.  We  know  that  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  declaration  against 
reform  was  th@  principal  cause  of  the  removal  of  him  and  the  other 
ministers  from  power.  And  there  is  now  another  instance  before  our 
eyes  of  the  impolicy  of  this  perverseness*  The  anti^reformers  have  im- 

1  The  following  letters,  excejjt  No,  V.,  arc  in  the  possession  0f  niy  cousin,  Mr,  H,  E. 
Franks,  and  are  published  by  his  kind  permission. 

II  2D 


418  THE  BRONTES 

prudently  thrown  the  ministers  into  a  minority,  and  consequently  Parlia- 
ment is  dissolved  by  the  King  in  person,  and  in  all  probability  another 
Parliament  will  soon  be  returned,  which  may  be  less  particular  than  the 
other,  and  perhaps  go  too  far  in  the  way  of  reformation. 

Both,  then,  because  I  think  moderate,  or  temperate  reform,  is  wanted 
— and  that  this  would  satisfy  all  wise  and  reasonable  people,  and  weaken 
the  hands  of  our  real  enemies,  and  preserve  the  church  and  state  from 
ruin — I  am  an  advocate  for  the  Bill,  which  has  been  just  thrown  out  of 
parliament.  It  is  with  me  merely  an  affair  of  conscience  and  judgment, 
and  sooner  than  violate  the  dictates  of  either  of  these,  I  would  run  the 
hazard  of  poverty,  imprisonment,  and  death.  My  friends — or  some  of 
them,  at  least — may  differ  from  me  as  to  the  line  of  conduct  which  ought 
to  be  followed,  but  our  motives  and  our  good  wishes  towards  church  and 
state  are  the  same. 

But  to  come  nearer  home.  I  have  for  nearly  a  year  past  been  in  but 
a  very  delicate  state  of  health.  I  had  an  inflammation  in  my  lungs  last 
summer,  and  was  in  immediate  and  great  danger  for  several  weeks.  For 
the  six  months  last  past  I  have  been  weak  in  body,  and  my  spirits  have 
often  been  low.  I  was  for  about  a  month  unable  to  take  the  church 
duty.  I  now  perform  it,  though  with  considerable  difficulty.  I  am, 
certainly,  a  little  better;  yet  I  fear  I  shall  never  fully  recover.  I  some- 
times think  that  I  shall  fall  into  a  decline.  But  I  am  in  the  Lord's  hands, 
and  hope  that  he  will  at  the  last  give  me  a  happy  issue  out  of  all  my 
troubles,  and  take  me  for  ever  into  His  heavenly  kingdom.  We  have  been 
much  concerned  to  hear  from  time  to  time  that  you  have  not  been  quite 
so  strong  as  usual.  It  is  our  earnest  wish  and  prayer  that  the  Lord  may 
support  and  comfort  you,  and  spare  you  long  and  in  mercy  to  your 
husband  and  your  children.  I  have  only  once  been  at  Kipping  since  I 
last  saw  you  and  Mrs.  Firth  there.  The  family  were  kind  to  me, 
but  I  missed  my  old  friends,  and  I  could  not  feel  comfortable,  and  I 
soon  departed,  intending  never  to  call  again.  Miss  Branwell  still  con- 
tinues with  me,  and  kindly  superintends  my  little  family,  and  they  all 
join  with  me  in  the  kindest  and  most  respectful  regards.  When  you 
write  to,  or  see,  Mrs.  Firth,  be  so  kind  as  to  remember  us  all  to  her  in  the 
most  respectful  and  affectionate  manner.  Be  so  good  also  to  thank 
Mr.  Franks  in  our  name  for  his  kind  attention  to  Charlotte,  and  believe 
me  to  be,  dear  madam,  very  respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

P.  BRONTE. 

II 

ROE  HEAD,  May  1831. 

DEAR  MADAM, — I  beg  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  the  parcel  which 
arrived  the  other  day  from  Huddersfield,  and  to  thank  yourself  for  the 
frock  and  muslin  and  Miss  puthwaite  for  the  shawl  which  she  has  so 
kindly  sent  me.  My  chilblains  are  quite  well  I  am  sorry  I  was  out 
when  Mr.  Atkinson  called  the  other  day.  Pray  give  my  love  to  Mrs* 
Firth,  and  present  my  thanks  to  her  for  her  welcome  note.  The  Miss 
Woolers  desire  their  kindest  respects  to  you  \  they  are  much  obliged  to 
Mr.  Franks  for  the  loan  of  Keith  on  the  Prophtcies^  with  which  they 


APPENDIX  II 


419 


greatly  pleased.  Accept,  dear  madam,  my  sincere  thanks  for  all  the 
kindness  you  have  shown  me,  and  permit  me  to  subscribe  myself, — Yours 
gratefully  and  affectionately,  C.  BRONTE. 


Has  Mrs.  F sent  the  parcel  to 

Mrs.  FRANKS, 

Vicarage, 

HUDDERSFIELD  ? 


Ill 

Addressed — Mrs.  Franks,  Vicarage,  Huddersfield. 
Postmark — Bradford,  Yorks,  Jy.  7,  1835. 
Postal  charge,  6d.     Seal  '  B.' 

HAWOR.TH,  near  BRADFORD,  YORKSHIRE,  July  6,  1835. 
MY  BEAR  MADAM, — As  two  of  my  dear  children  are  soon  to  be  placed 
near  you,  I  take  the  liberty  of  writing  to  you  a  few  lines  in  order  to 
request  both  you  and  Mr,  Franks  to  be  so  kind  as  to, interpose  with  your 
advice  and  counsel  to  them  in  any  case  of  necessity,  and,  if  expedient, 
to  write  to  Miss  Branwell  or  me  if  our  interference  should  be  requisite. 
I  will  charge  them  strictly  to  attend  to  what  you  may  advise,  though  it  is 
not  my  intention  to  speak  to  them  of  this  letter.  They  both  have  good 
abilities,  and  as  far  as  I  can  judge  their  principles  are  good  also,  but  they 
are  very  young,  and  unacquainted  with  the  ways  of  this  delusive  and 
insnaring  world ;  and  though  they  will  be  placed  under  the  superintendence 
of  Miss  Wooler,  who  will  I  doubt  not  do  what  she  can  for  their  good,  yet 
I  am  well  aware  that  neither  they  nor  any  other  can  ever,  in  this  land  of 
probation,  lie  beyond  the  reach  of  temptation.  It  is  my  design  to  send 
my  son,  for  whom,  as  you  may  remember,  my  kind  and  true  friends, 
Mr.  Firth  and  Mrs.  Firth,  were  sponsors,  to  the  Royal  Academy  for 
Artists  in  London;  and  my  dear  little  Anne  I  intend  to  keep  at  home  for 
another  year  under  her  aunt's  tuition  and  my  own.  For  these  dispositions 
I  feel  I  am  indebted,  under  God,  to  you,  and  Miss  Outhwaite,  and  Mrs. 
Firth  and  other  kind  friends;  and  for  every  act  of  kindness  I  feel  truly 
grateful  It  has  given  us  all  unfeigned  pleasure  to  learn  that  your  health 
is  nearly  restored,  and  that  Mr.  Franks  and  your  dear  little  children  are 
all  well  Several  years  ago  I  saw  in  Bradford  a  fine  little  child  of  yours, 
whom  I  took  into  my  arms  and  would  have  nursed,  but  it  took  the 
alarm  and  would  not  stay  with  me  3  and  so  I  was  obliged  to  return  it  to 
Miss  Outhwaite,  in  whom  it  placed  greater  confidence.  My  own  health 
<is  generally  but  wry  delicate,  yet  through  a  gracious  Providence,  and 
-with  great  care,  I  am  for  the  most  part  able  to  perform  my  various 


420  THE  BRONTES 

ministerial  duties;   indeed  I   have  never  been   very  well  since   I   left 
Thornton.     My  happiest  days  were  spent  there.     In  this  place  I  have 
received  civilities,  and  have,  I  trust,  been  civil  to  all,  but  I  have  not  tried 
to  make  any  friends,  nor  have  I  met  with  any  whose  mind  was  congenial 
with  my   own.     I  have   not   been   at   Thornton  or  Kipping  for  many 
years.     The  last  time  I  was  there  I  traveled  over  some  of  my  ancient 
paths   and  thought   of  my   dear   wife   and  children  whom   death   had 
removed,  and  when  I  was  in  the  church  and  reflected  that  my  beloved 
friend,  with  whom  I  was  wont  to  take  sweet  counsel,  was  beneath  my 
feet,  sadness  came  over  my  heart;  and  afterwards,  as  I  walked  round 
your  garden,  I  called  to  mind  all  my  dear  friends  who  were  removed 
from  thence — by  the  vicissitudes  of  life — and  I  soon  found  the  whole 
aspect  of  affairs  to  be  entirely  changed ;  and  so  I  returned  home,  fully 
intending  to  visit  Thornton  and  Kipping  no  more,  unless  I  should  be  in 
a  ftreat  measure  forced  by  reason  of  circumstances.     I  have  heard,  how- 
ever, that  'some  alterations  and  perhaps  a  few  improvements  have  been 
made  there.     But  of  those  you  must  know  more  than  I  do,  as  probably 
you  often  revisit  the  place  of  your  nativity  and  the  scenes  of  your  early 
youth.     Amidst  all  the  chances,  changes,  and  trials  of  this  mortal  life, 
we  have  still  the  glorious  conviction  on  oar  minds  that  we  may  have  our 
hope  immovably  anchored  in  heaven,  by  the  throne  of  God,  in  whom 
there  is  no  variableness,  neither  shadow  of  turning,     And  I  trust  this 
blessed  consideration  will  be  a  never-failing  source  of  comfort  to  you 
during  the  remainder  of  your  journey  through  life,  and  especially  at  that 
last  hour  when  you  will  step  out  of  time  into  eternity.     We  are  now,  as 
members  of  the  Church  of  England,  placed  under  peculiar  trials  outwardly 
from  the  numerous  and  inveterate  enemies  of  both  the  church  and  state, 
and  we  may  have  enemies  within.     Yet  still,  if  we  look  to  the  Lord  in 
humility,  patience,  and  faith,  and  use  the  appropriate  scriptural  means,, 
we  shall  at  last  come  off  more  than  conquerors  over  death  and  hell,  and 
obtain  houses,  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens. 

Be  so  good  as  to  give  my  very  kind  and  respectful  regards  to  Mr, 
Franks,  and  to  my  old  and  kind  friends,  Mrs.  Firth  and  Miss  Outhwaiter 
when  you  see  them  ;  and  also  excuse  the  trouble  which  I  have  here  given 
you,  and  believe  me,  my  dear  madam,  ever  yours,  very  sincerely"  and: 
truly,  P.  BRONTE. 

IV 

Addressed — Mrs.  Franks,  Vicarage,  Huddersfield,  Yorkshire. 
Postmark— Bradford,  Yorks,  Ju.  14,  1836,     'Seal  B/ 
Postal  charge,  6d* 

x  HAWORTH,  near  BRADFORD,  YORKSHIRE,  June  13^,  1836. 

MY  Dih&R  MADAM, —My  dear  little  Charlotte  has  informed  me  that  you 
and  Mr.  Franks  have  been  so  kind  as  to  invite  her  and  Anne  to  pay  you 
a  visit  for  a\week,  but  that  through  impatience,  as  is  very  natural,  they 
have  curtail'd  v^hat  invitation  to  a  few  days.  I  have  written  to  them  to 
countermand  this  intention.  I  esteem  it  as  a  high  privilege  that  they 
should  be  underv  jour  roof  for  a  time,  where,  I  am  sure,  they  will  see  and 


APPENDIX  11  421 

hear  nothing  but  what,  under  Providence,  must  necessarily  tend  to  their 
best  interest  in  both  the  worlds.  You  I  have  long  known,  Mr.  Franks' 
character  I  am  well  acquainted  with  through  the  medium  of  authentic 
report;  and  hence  I  came  to  this  conclusion.  I  have  written  to  Char- 
lotte and  Anne  to  this  effect,  but  as  my  letter  may  not  reach  them  (owing 
to  a  bye-post)  in  due  time,  I  will  thank  you  to  communicate  to  them  this 
intelligence.  I  will  send  the  horse  and  gig  for  them  to  your  house,  and, 
if  necessary,  they  may  return  from  thence  by  Roe  Head.  In  these 
sentiments  Miss  Branwell  perfectly  agrees  with  me,  and  at  the  same  time 
joins  with  me  and  my  family  in  the  most  respectful  and  kind  com- 
pliments and  icgards  to  you  and  Mr.  Franks,  and  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Atkinson  when  you  see  them.  For  many  years  I  have  visited  no  friends 
in  Bradford,  but,  having  heard  that  our  old  friend,  Miss  Outhwaite,  had 
broken  her  arm,  I  went  over  a  few  days  ago  to  that  town,  where  I  saw 
those  who  awakened  in  me  many  lively  recollections  of  '  Auld  Lang  SyneJ 

On  some,  perhaps  on  all,  time  had  made  a  difference ;  but  there  was 
only  one  whom  I  did  not  at  first  recognise.  They  complimented  me,  in 
general,  on  renewing  my  age ;  but  perhaps  this  was  owing  to  their  kind 
partiality. 

Sincerely  and  ardently  wishing  and  praying  for  your  health  and  happi- 
ness, both  here  and  hereafter, — I  remain,  my  dear  madam,  your  old  friend 
and  obliged  servant,  P.  BRONTE 

V 

DEAR  MADAM, — I  have  been  obliged  to  delay  answering  your  kind  invita- 
tion until  I  could  fix  a  time  for  accepting  it.  Till  this  morning  Miss 
Wooler  had  not  decided  when  her  school  should  break  up;  she  has  now 
fixed  upon  Friday  the  iyth  of  this  month  for  the  commencement  of  the 
vacation.  On  that  day,  if  all  be  well,  Anne  and  I  hope  to  have  the  very 
great  pleasure  of  seeing  you  at  Hudders field.  We  are  both  extremely 
glad  to  hear  that  your  health  is  at  least  partially  recovered,  and  I  do 
hope  the  fine  weather  we  have  recently  had  may  contribute  to  confirm  it. 
Changes,  I  have  no  doubt,  have  taken  place  in  your  little  family  since 
I  last  saw  it.  John  must  now  be  grown  a  very  fine  boy  indeed,  and 
dear  little  Henry  and  Elizabeth  must  also  have  risen  some  grades  in  the 
ascent  of  life.  When  I  first  heard  of  Miss  Outhwaite's  accident  it  shocked 
me  much,  but  I  trust  her  good  constitution  will  soon  get  the  better  of  its 
effects.  I  feel  anxious  to  know  how  she  recovers.  We  propose  coming 
by  the  four  or  five  o'clock  coach  on  Friday  afternoon  and  returning  by  an 
early  morning  coach  on  Monday  as  papa,  I  fear,  will  scarcely  be  willing 
to  dispense  with  us  longer  at  home,  even  though  we  should  be  staying 
with  so  valued  a  friend  as  yourself.  Excuse  what  is  faulty  in  this  hasty 
scrawl,  my  dear  madam,  and  do  not  think  me  negligent  in  having  so  long 
delayed  to  answer  your  kind  note,  because  I  really  could  not  help  it ; 
accept  my  own  and  my  sister's  respectful  and  sincere  love,  and  believe  me 
to  be,  affectionately  yours,  C  BRONTE. 

ROB  HEAD,  June  2nJ,  '36. 

A  pencil  drawing  by  Charlotte  Bronte  is  in  my  keeping,  given  by  her, 
BO  doubt,  to  my  grandmother.  It  is  executed  on  a  card  with  an  embossed 


422  THE  BRONTES 

frame  in  the  fine  or  finicky  manner  of  the  period,  and  represents  a  castle, 
with  moat,  bridge,  trees,  and  two  very  badly  drawn  figures.  It  is  inscribed 
in  a  flowing  hand  on  the  right  of  the  foreground,  '  Ludlow  Castle,  Shrop- 
shire,' but  more  interesting  is  the  'C.  Bronte'  in  minute  characters  on  the 
left.  As  has  been  said,  my  grandmother  died  on  nth  September  1837, 

VI 

Addressed — Rev.  J.  C.  Franks,  Vicarage,  Huddersfield. 

Postmark— Bradford,  Yorks,  Ja.  n,  1839. 

Stamped— Bradford  Yor(ks)  Penny  Post.     Postal  charge,  6d. 

HAWORTH,  near  BRADFORD, 

YORKSHIRE,  Jany.  roM,  1839. 

REVD.  AND  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  lately  written  to  several  Clergymen  re- 
questing that  they  would  exert  themselves  to  find  for  me  a  suitable  Clerical 
Assistant.  I  have  got  a  grant  from  the  Pastoral  Aid  Society,  in  case  I  can 
procure  a  man  congenial  with  their  sentiments,  and  who  would  be  active, 
as  well  as  zealous.  Their  conditions,  though  not  unreasonable,  are  some- 
what strict — a  good  deal  more  so,  I  believe,  than  those  are  generally 
imposed  by  the  Clergy  Aid  Society.  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  give  me 
your  advice  and  assistance  on  this  occasion  ?  The  Bishop,  to  whom  I 
have  applied,  has  been  very  kind  and  attentive  to  my  case,  and  offers,  if 
no  better  may  be,  to  ordain  on  my  Nomination.  I  know  not  what  your 
religious  opinions  may  be  on  some  particular  points,  but  it  is  expedient 
that  on  this  occasion  I  should  candidly  tell  you  some  of  mine,  lest 
inconvenience  might  arise  from  a  collision  with  my  future  Assistant  in  our 
preaching  and  exhortation.  As  far  as  I  know  myself,  I  think  I  may 
venture  to  say  that  I  am  no  Bigot.  Yet  I  could  not  feel  comfortable  with 
a  coadjutor  who  would  deem  it  his  duty  to  preach  the  appalling  doctrines 
of  personal  Election  and  Reprobation.  As  I  should  consider  these 
decidedly  derogatory  to  the  Attributes  of  God,  so  also  I  should  be  fearful  of 
evil  consequence  to  the  hearers  from  the  enforcement  of  final  perseverance 
as  an  essential  article  of  belief.  I  am  well  aware  that  many  Clergymen, 
far  wiser  and  better  than  I  am,  do  not  accord  with  me  here ;  but  as  I 
freely  leave  them  to  the  possession  of  their  views,  so  I  hope  that  they  will 
kindly  permit  me  to  enjoy  mine.  I  want  for  this  region  a  plain  rather 
than  an  able  preacher;  a  zealous,  but  at  the  same  time  a  judicious  man 
— one  not  fond  of  innovation,  but  desirous  of  proceeding  on  th&  good  old 
flan — which,  alas  !  has  often  been  mar'd^  but  never  improved.  I  earnestly 
wish  that  some  of  the  clergy  in  our  excellent  Establishment  were  as 
solicitous  for  improvement  as  they  are  for  change,  and  that  they  would 
give  less  way  to  the  hazardous  fitful  air  of  popularity.  The  signs  of  the 
times  in  which  we  live  are  of  ominous  portent.  Without  our  Citadel  we 
have  numerous  vigilant,  inveterate,  and  active  enemies ;  and  within,  many 
who  are  utterly  unsafe  either  through  shallow  ignorance  or  evil  design, 
Yet,  blessed  be  God,  there  has  lately  been  an  increase  of  men  of  great 
learning,  genuine  piety,  and  vast  resources  of  the  most  valuable  kind, 
and  who  are  as  willing  as  they  are  able  to  stand  forward  at  all  hazards,  in 
order  to  do  their  duty,  as  Ministers  of  the  Gospel,  and  good  members  of 


APPENDIX  II  423 

society.  God  and  His  Holy  Word,  too,  are  on  our  side,  and  thus,  after 
all,  it  may  prove,  ere  long,  that  the  gloomy  season  we  have  may  only 
be  the  immediate  forerunner  of  an  early  dawn  and  a  bright  and 
cheering  day. 

I  have  written  a  longer  letter  than  I  intended — but  I  felt  I  was  address- 
ing the  late  partner  of  one  of  the  best  and  most  esteem'd  friends  that  my 
family  and  I  have  ever  had,  and  whose  memory  is  still  held  in  lively 
remembrance  by  us,  though  she  is  herself  removed  to  another,  and  a 
better,  world. 

All  my  little  flock  join  with  me  in  the  kindest  and  most  respectful 
regards  to  you  and  yours. — I  remain,  Revd.  and  dear  Sir,  yours  very 
truly,  PATRICK  BRONTE. 

The  Kev.  J.  C.  FRANKS, 

Vicar  of  Huddersfield. 

Probably  from  1840,  the  date  of  my  grandfather's  leaving  Huddersfield, 
there  was  no  further  intercourse  between  him  or  his  children  and  the 
family  of  Haworth  Parsonage. 

C.  C.  MOORE  SMITH. 

SHEFFIELD. 


424  THE  BRONTES 


APPENDIX   III 

'THE   BRONTES   AT   COWAN   BRIDGE,7   BY   THE 
LATE   REV.   ANGUS   M.   MACKAY 

IT  will  be  remembered  that  after  the  publication  of  Jane  Eyre  a  fierce 
controversy  broke  out  about  this  gentleman's  character.1  Some,  like  the 
elderly  clergyman  who  first  recognised  the  portrait  in  the  novel,  asserted 
that  £he  deserved  the  chastisement  he  had  got.'  Others  declared  that 
he  had  been  slandered.  His  son-in-law  maintained  that  Charlotte  (  saw 
the  scenes  of  her  childhood  through  the  glass  of  her  own  imagination, 
and  certainly  under  the  colour  of  prejudice,*  and  pronounced  the  portrait 
of  Mr,  Carus  Wilson  a  wild  caricature.  So  far  as  this  controversy  touches 
Mr.  Wilson's  motives  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  except  to  acknow- 
ledge that  his  beliefs  were  sincere,  and  that  his  intentions  throughout 
were  undoubtedly  good.  Leaving  motives  aside  altogether,  we  have  only 
to  ask,  were  Mr.  Wilson's  actions  and  opinions  such  as  Charlotte  has 
depicted?  and  were  they  such  that  if  she  had  witnessed  them  when  her 
intellect  was  matured,  she  would  have  pronounced  the  same  verdict  as  is 
recorded  in  Jane  Eyrel  To  both  these  questions  the  answer  is  an 
emphatic  affirmative.  I  base  this  answer  upon  an  unpublished  document 
which  has  lately  been  shown  me,  Thoughts  Suggested  to  the  Superintendent 
and  Ladies  of  the  Clergy  Daughters*  School^  written  long  after  Jane  Eyre> 
and  also  upon  certain  published  writings  of  Mr.  Wilson  which  certainly 
could  not  have  fallen  into  Charlotte's  hands. 

Mr.  Wilson  was  a  pious  man,  who  wished  to  be  a  real  benefactor  to 
the  young  whom  he  gathered  into  the  school  at  Cowan  Bridge,  Yet 
there  is  no  sober  Christian  in  these  days  who  would  not  agree  that 
methods  more  unsuitable  than  his  could  not  well  have  been  devised. 
He  wrote  many  books  for  the  young,  which  show  very  clearly  what 
manner  of  man  he  was.  Youthful  Memoirs,  published  in  1828,  is  full  of 
death-bed  scenes  of  little  children,  ail  of  whom  speak  an  unnatural 
language,  are  precocious  in  prayer,  and  have  a  most  unchildlike  love  of 
death — for  instance,  the  boy  of  3^  years,  who,  when  asked  whether  he 
would  choose  death  or  life,  replied,  '  Death  for  me?  I  am  fonder  of 
death.'  A  local  children's  magazine  called  the  Children's  JFriend  (i%2&~ 
1828),  of  which  Mr.  Wilson  was  the  author  rather  than  the  editor, 
abounds  in  stories  of  sudden  death  and  damnation.  When  these  are  not 
the  themes,  such  subjects  as  the  Horrors  of  the  Plague  or  the  Massacre 
of  St.  Bartholomew  are  chosen,  and  the  terrible  details — most  unfit  read- 
ing for  little  children— are  even  italicised.  Another  book  is  First  lales^ 
being  stones  in  words  of  one  syllable  for  infants,  published  two  years 
1  The  Rev.  W.  Carus  Wilson. 


APPENDIX  III  425 

after  Jane  Eyre.  Its  suitability  for  little  ones  may  be  judged  from  the 
fact  that  in  the  very  first  page  is  a  picture  of  a  man  being  hanged,  and 
the  book  opens  :  '  Look  there !  Do  you  see  a  man  hung  by  the  neck  ?  ' 
These  children's  books — most  of  them  grotesquely  illustrated — have  all 
a  local  character,  and  were  undoubtedly  intended  in  the  first  place  for 
the  pupils  at  Cowan  Bridge. 

A  glance  through  these  little  volumes  proves  that  the  portrait  in  Jane 
Eyre  is  exact.  The  very  expressions  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  '  black 
marble  clergyman '  may  be  found  in  them  repeatedly.  Let  a  few  of  the 
parallels  serve.  Mr.  Brocklehurst  says  to  Jane  Eyre,  'Children  younger 
than  you  die  daily.  I  buried  a  little  child  five  years  old  only  a  day  or 
two  since — a  good  little  child,  whose  soul  is  now  in  Heaven.'  Youthful 
Memoirs  is  full  of  the  death-beds  of  these  good  little  children.  He  says 
to  Jane,  £  You  have  a  wicked  heart,  and  you  must  pray  God  to  change  it ; 
to  give  you  a  new  and  clean  one:  to  take  away  \our  heart  of  stone  and 
give  you  a  heart  of  flesh.'  Almost  the  exact  words  occur  in  three  of  the 
stories ;  for  example,  Sarah  Bickers  says  to  a  naughty  companion  that  she 
*  must  humble  her  pride  and  pray  to  God,  and  He  would  be  sure  to  take 
away  her  heart  of  stone  and  give  her  a  heart  of  flesh.'  Mr.  Brocklehurst 
says,  '  I  have  a  little  boy  younger  than  you  who  knows  six  psalms  by 
heart.'  There  are  a  number  of  these  little  boys  in  Youthful  Memoir*  and 
the  Children's  Friend]  one  of  them,  aged  eight,  'Knew  many  of  the  most 
important  parts  of  God's  Word,  and  got  by  heart  many  portions  of  it, 
which  he  often  repeated  in  the  night  while  lying  awake.'  Mr.  Brockle- 
hurst says  to  Jane's  aunt,  speaking  of  Lowood,  '  Madam,  she  shall  be 
placed  in  that  nursery  of  chosen  plants,'  etc.,  and  in  the  Thoughts 
Suggested  to  the  Superintendent  and  Ladies,  Mr.  Wilson  calls  his  school 
''a  nursery  for  Christ's  Spiritual  Church  on  Earth,  and  a  nursery  for 
Heaven.'  Mr.  Brocklehurst  catechises  Jane  unpleasantly  about  the  pit 
of  fire  and  brimstone,  and  just  such  dialogues  may  be  found  in  his  books : 
these  lines  of  his  from  the  Children's  Friend  give  succinctly  tLe  moral  of 
many  of  his  stories  for  children  : 

'  Tis  dangerous  to  provoke  a  God 

Whose  power  and  vengeance  none  can  tell ; 
One  stroke  of  His  almighty  rod 

Can  send  young  sinners  quick  to  hell.' 

At  the  close  of  the  interview  with  Jane,  Mr.  Brocklehurst  gives  her  a 
tract,  entitled  'The  Child's  Guide,'  containing  *  An  account  of  the  awfully 
-sudden  death  of  Martha  G,,  a  naughty  child  addicted  to  falsehood.7 
One  of  his  little  stories  actually  is  entitled,  'An  Awful  History' ;  he  did 
distribute  just  such  tracts,  for  I  have  read  one  called  ( The  Burnt  Bible/ 
of  a  most  gruesome  and  bloodcurdling  character;  and  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  terrify  sven  the  youngest  children  with  these  stones.  In  the 
Children's  Friend  he  relates  how  a  child,  three  years  of  age,  '  had  its 
naughty  will  crossed  by  its  mother  and  flew  into  a  violent  passion.  She 
screamed  and  cried  and  stamped,  and,  dreadful  to  relate,  it  pleased  God 
to  strike  her  dead.  How  awful  her  state ! '  He  even  repeats  this  story 
with  amplification  in  his  Tales  of  one  syllable  for  infants :  { All  at  once 
God  struck  her  dead,  no  time  to  pray,  no  time  to  call  on  God  to  save  her 
soul  .  .  .  Where  is  she  now?  We  know  that  bad  girls  go  to  Hell. 


426  THE  BRONTES 

She  is  in  a  rage  with  herself  now.'  Mr.  Wilson  really  believed  that  a  little 
dot,  hardly  old  enough  to  walk,  was  doomed  to  eternal  torments  for 
getting  into  a  pet.  Charlotte's  portrait  of  him  is  sober  when  placed 
beside  the  original. 

It  has  been  questioned  whether  the  whipping  scene  in  Jane  Eyre  repre- 
sented a  fact,  and  whether  Mr.  Cams  Wilson  could  ever  have  advised 
the  teachers  *to  punish  the  body  to  save  the  soul.3  But  these  books, 
both  as  regards  illustrations  and  letterpress,  seem,  as  one  glances  through, 
to  bristle  with  canes  and  rods,  and  Mr.  Wilson  frequently  insists  on  the 
necessity  of  corporal  punishment.  I  quote  one  of  his  anecdotes  because 
it  seems  to  refer  to  some  girl  at  Cowan  Bridge.  '  A  poor  little  girl  who 
had  been  taken  into  a  school  was  whipped.  She  a^ked,  "  If  they  love  us, 
why  do  they  whip  us?"  A  little  girl  of  six  replied,  "It  is  because  they 
love  us,  and  it  is  to  make  us  remember  what  a  sad  thing  sin  is.  God 
would  be  angry  with  them  if  they  did  not  whip  us." ' 

No  one,  I  am  sure,  could  read  Mr.  Carus  Wilson's  Thoughts  Suggested 
to  the  Superintendent^  without  being  astonished  at  the  accuracy  with  which 
Charlotte  Bronte  has  represented  in  Jane  Myrc  his  aims  and  religious 
ideas.  The  document — which  is  earnest  in  tone — takes  us  into  the  very 
atmosphere  of  Chapter  vi.  of  Jane  Eyre.  Every  one  remembers  the 
scene  in  which  Mr.  Brocklehurst  orders  the  curls  to  be  cut  off,  and 
declares  it  his  mission  *  to  mortify  in  these  girls  the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  and 
to  teach  them  to  clothe  themselves  with  shamefacedness  and  sobriety.'1 
In  his  Thoughts^  written  thirty-three  years  after  Charlotte  left  Cowan 
Bridge,  Mr.  Wilson  writes :  *  The  pupils  are  necessarily  put  into  a  very 
simple  and  uniform  attire.  Many  of  them  no  doubt  feel  it.  They  have 
been  unfortunately  accustomed,  perhaps,  even  to  excess  in  this  very  pre- 
vailing and  increasing  love  of  dress,  for  alas,  clergymen's  families  are  not 
exempt  from  the  mania — not  even  the  poorest.  With  me  it  was  always 
an  object  to  nip  in  the  bud  any  growing  symptom  of  vanity/  Mr.  Brockle- 
hurst everywhere  insists  that  the  pupils  should  be  'made  useful  and 
kept  humble,'  and  Mr.  Wilson,  in  his  final  manifesto,  says  that  the  teacher 
must  discountenance  *  trivial  and  useless  work.'  The  children  are  to  be 
'brought  up  usefully,  not  tawdrily.  .  .  .  The  tinsel  and  the  varnish  are 
of  little  moment  compared  with  excellence  in  plain,  useful  work.  ...  It 
will  be  a  sorry  look-out  for  a  clergyman's  daughter  if  she  is  sent  out  from 
the  school,  for  instance,  a  first-rate  performer  in  crochet  and  worsted  work,, 
and  that  sort  of  thing — however  useful  it  may  be — but  unable  to  cut  out 
and  rnend  her  own  garments.' 

Let  me  repeat,  these  extracts — which  might  be  increased  indefinitely — 
are  not  given  for  the  purpose  of  reopening  the  question  of  Mr.  Carus- 
Wilson's  character.  It  may  be  that  most  people  nowadays  will  think  that 
his  lights  were  dim,  and  his  methods  mistaken,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt 
about  his  conscientiousness  and  good  intentions.  My  purpose  is  only  to 
show  how  marvellously  accurate  was  the  insight  into  character  and  thef- 
memory  for  words  and  incidents  of  Charlotte  Bronte  when  she  was  a  little 
girl  of  eight.  We  have  here  a  phenomenon  quite  as  unaccountable  as- 
that  of  the  '  calculating  boys '  or  the  musical  prodigies  that  from  time  to 
time  have  puzzled  the  world ;  and  we  see  here  one  of  the  constituents  of 
the  genius  which  produced  Villette  and  Shirley. 


APPENDIX  IV  427 


APPENDIX    IV 

THE  REV.  CARUS   WILSON  IN  THE   LAW  COURTS 

FROM  THE  'LANCASTER  GUARDIAN/  DECEMBER  1837 

AN  inquiry  into  certain  charges  made  by  the  Rev.  Cams  Wilson  of 
Casterton  against  the  Board  of  Guardians  in  the  Kene'al  Union  has 
excited  a  great  deal  of  conversation  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Kirkby 
Lonsdale,  where  the  Rev.  gentleman  resides.  The  charge  against  the 
Board  of  Guardians  was  one  of  wanton  cruelty;  and  Mr.  Wilson  instanced 
the  case  of  Mary  Cornthwaite,  a  poor  and  aged  woman,  whom  he  charged 
them  with  having  starved  to  death.  The  Poor  Law  Commissioners  having 
received  from  Mr.  Wilson  a  copy  of  his  letter  containing  the  charges  in 
question  immediately  directed  Mr.  Voules,  the  Assistant  Commissioner  of 
the  Westmoreland  district,  to  institute  an  inquiry  into  the  case. 

Mr,  Voules  accordingly  appointed  Tuesday,  the  24th  ult.,  for  the 
investigation,  and  wrote  to  Mr.  Wilson  to  apprise  him  thereof,  and 
challenging  him  to  appear  and  support  the  charges  he  had  made.  Mr. 
Wilson  appeared  to  be  startled  at  this  instruction,  for  he  wrote  to  say  that 
he  never  intended  to  appear  publicly  in  support  of  his  charge,  that  he 
expected  his  name  would  be  concealed,  and  he  thought  he  would  be  ill- 
used  if  he  were  thus  dragged  from  his  privacy  ]  but  he  assured  Mr. 
Voules,  we  understand,  that  he  had  the  power  to  prove  all  that  he  had 
alleged,  and  he  cautioned  Mr.  Voules  against  the  danger  to  which  he  was 
exposing  the  Kendal  Guardians  by  prosecuting  the  inquiry. 

To  this  threat  Mr.  Voules  made  no  other  answer  than  that  the  inquiry 
would  proceed;  and  that  if  he  failed  to  appear,  his  absence  would  be 
construed  into  a  tacit  admission  that  his  charges  were  unsupportable. 

The  inquiry  took  place  accordingly  on  the  day  above  named,  and 
Mr.  Wilson,  accompanied  by  two  magistrates  of  the  neighbourhood, 
Christopher  Wilson,  Esq.,  of  Rigmaden,  and  Welch,  Esq.,  of  Leek,  made 
his  appearance.  The  examination  was  chiefly  confined  to  the  case  of 
Mary  Cornthwaite,  an  old  woman,  who  was  burnt  to  death  at  Casterton. 
This  was  tKe  person  whom  Mr.  Wilson  charged  the  Board  of  Guardians 
with  having  starved. 

He  came  prepared  with  a  host  of  witnesses,  who  were  examined  on 
oath  by  Mr.  Voules,  and  from  the  evidence  of  these  his  own  witnesses, 
it  appeared  that  the  woman  had  £4,  175.  in  Kirkby  Lonsdale  Savings 
Bank ;  that  this  money  stood  there  in  the  name  of  Mr.  Wilson's  mother 
until  her  death,  when  he  himself  changed  it  to  the  name  of  Mary  Corn- 
thwaite ;  that  he  himself  is  a  director  of  the  Bank ;  that  after  the  death  of 


428  THE  BRONTES 

Mary  Cornthwaite  and  before  he  wrote  the  letter  complained  of,  he  had 
either  himself  obtained  or  assisted  in  obtaining  from  the  Bank  the  money 
in  question  for  Mary  Cornthwaite's  relatives ;  that  he  himself  called  and 
presented  the  cheque  (which  was  partially  burnt)  to   Mr.   Gregg,   the 
manager  of  the  Bank,  and  that  he  described  the  Mary  Cornthwaite  to 
the  satisfaction  of  Mr.  Gre.eg.     It  also  appeared  that  this  woman,  whom 
Mr.  Wilson  alleged  to  have  died  of  starvation,  had  in  her  house  at  the 
time  of  her  death  the  greater  part  of  a  loaf  of  bread,  about  two  ounces 
of  butter,  one-third  of  a  pound  of  sugar,  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  tea,  two 
black  puddings,  a  piece  of  beef,  and  a  piece  of  pork;  that  she  had  eight 
shillings  and  sixpence  in  silver  in  her  pocket,  which  was  found  amongst 
the  ashes  on  the  floor,  and  she  had  a  cart  of  coals  just  got  in,  that  a 
respectable  labouring  man  owed  her  sixteen  or  seventeen  shillings,  and 
that  she  had  either  lent  or  had  owing  to  her  by  her  neighbours  other 
smaller  sums.     She  had  abundance  of  wearing  apparel,  bedding  and  bed- 
linen,  of  which  an  inventory  was  taken  at  the  time  of  her  death,  and 
which  was  now  given  to  the  Assistant  Commissioner.     It  was  also  proved 
that  .she  had  a  clock,  a  chest  of  drawers,  and  a  good  bedstead  and  hang- 
ings,  and  other  useful  household  furniture   and  utensils;   and   it  was 
moreover  proved,  and  we  regret  to  state  it,  that  all  this  was  known  to 
Mr.  Wilson  when  he  wrote  the  libel. 

It  was  proved  that  she  had  applied  for  relief  in  order  to  find  out  her 
settlement,  but  had  said  that  she  had  enough  to  live  upon  for  a  year,  and 
then  she  must  go  to  the  Parish.  She  further  declared  to  persons  who 
gave  evidence  on  the  inquest  that  she  had  been  seized  with  a  fit  of 
dizziness,  and  had  fallen  into  the  fire,  and  that  when  she  came  to  her 
senses  her  clothes  were  burning. 

A  hint,  it  is  said,  was  given  after  the  inquest  had  concluded,  that  a 
rumour  was  abroad  that  she  had  been  starved,  on  hearing  which  the 
Coroner  (we  believe,  R.  Wilson,  Esq.,  of  Kendal)  gave  directions  to  have 
the  inventory  taken,  which  afterwards  turned  out  so  useful.  Mr.  Carus 
Wilson's  case  having  thus  completely  failed,  the  Rev.  gentleman  at- 
tempted to  get  rid  of  the  case  by  a  childish  and  contemptible  shuffle. 
He  said  it  might  be  a  Mary  Cornthwaite  three  hundred  miles  off  that  he 
alluded  to.  Mr.  Voules  checked  this  trifling  by  handing  this  Christian 
minister  a  Bible,  and  putting  him  on  his  oath.  In  answer  to  Mr.  Voules' 
questions,  he  said  he  was  the  Rev.  W.  Carus  Wilson,  Vicar  of  Tunstall, 
the  author  of  many  religious  works,  and  of  the  letter  in  question,  etc.,  and 
he  very  reluctantly  admitted  the  fact,  that  it  was  Mary  Cornthwaite  to 
whom  he  had  referred.  After  much  prevarication,  he  was  at  last  com- 
pelled to  admit  the  blackness  of  the  charge,  and  to  sue  for  mercy.  This, 
however,  was  not  a  point  for  Mr.  Voules  to  determine  on,  and  Mr.  Wilson 
having  retracted  every  part  of  his  statement,  and  affixed  his  signature  to 
the  retraction,  the  inquiry  closed.  The  result  of  the  examination  was 
transmitted  to  London  by  Mr.  Voules,  and  the  case  is  before  them  for 
decision.  Wnether  law  proceedings  will  be  instituted  against  Mr,  WUson 
for  the  libel,  or  whether  the  Commissioners  will  be  satisfied  with  the 
publication  of  the  apology  and  retraction,  we  have  not  heard.  The  latter 
appears  to  us  the  more  likely. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  inquiry,  we  understand,  Mr.  Welch  expressed 


APPENDIX  IV  429 

himself  in  terms  of  strong  disapprobation  of  Mr.  Wilson's  conduct,  and 
warmly  complimented  Mr.  Voules  upon  the  impartial  manner  in  which 
the  inquiry  had  been  conducted.  Upon  the  general  accuracy  of  the  pre- 
ceding statement  we  believe  our  readers  may  implicitly  rely.  We  have 
contented  ourselves  with  a  plain  and  simple  recital  of  the  facts  of  the  case 
as  they  have  come  to  our  knowledge,  and  if  they  are  incorrect  in  any 
particular  we  shall  gladly  rectify  them.  We  shall  not  trust  ourselves  at 
present  to  make  a  single  word  of  comment  of  the  conduct  of  the  chief 
actor  in  this  scene,  the  Rev.  W.  Carus  Wilson.  The  injury  to  the  cause 
of  religion,  and  particularly  to  the  established  church,  from  such  conduct 
cannot  well  be  overrated. 


430  THE  BRONTES 


APPENDIX    V 

THE  EARLY  BRONTE  MANUSCRIPTS 

THE  following  list  includes  the  whole  of  the  early  Bronte  Manuscripts 
known  to  me,  or  of  which  I  can  find  any  record : — 

UNPUBLISHED  BRONTE  LITERATURE 
BY  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

The  Young  Men's  Magazines.     In  Six  Numbers,    .         .         .         .1829 
[Only  four  out  of  these  six  numbers  appear  to  have  been  preserved.] 

The  Search  after  Happiness :  A  Tale.     By  Charlotte  Bronte,          .     1829 
Two  Romantic  Tales  ;  viz.  The  Twelve  Adventures^  and  An  Adven- 
ture in  Ireland,      .........     1829 

Natural  History:  A  Magazine^     .....         January  1829 

Characters  of  Great  Men  of  the  Present  Age ,  Dec.  1 7th,          .         .     1829 
Tales  of  the  Islanders.     By  Charlotte  Bronte  ;-— 

Vol.  i.  dated  June  31,  1829. 
Vol.  ii.  dated  December  2,  1829. 
Vol.  iii.  dated  May  8,  1830. 
Vol.  iv.  dated  July  30,  1830. 

[Accompanying  these  volumes  is  a  one-page  document  detailing  '  The 
Origin  of  the  Islanders*    Dated  March  12,  1829.] 

JBlackwood's  Young  Mens  Magazine.     Edited  by  the  Genius  C.  B. 

Printed  by  Captain  Tree,  and  sold  by  Captain  Cory,      ,         .     1829 
The  Silver  Cup  :  A  Tale,      .........      ^29 

An  Interesting  Story.  By  Lord  Charles  Wellesley.  Charlotte 

Bronte,  , 1830 

The  Adventures  of  Mont.  Edouard  Clark.  By  Lord  C.  Wellesley. 

Printed  for  Sergeant  Tree,  and  sold  by ,  .  .  ,1830 

The  Adventures  of  Ernest  Alembert :  A  Fairy  Tale.  By  Charlotte 

Bronte,1 5:830 

Scenes  on  the  Great  Bridge.  By  the  Genius  C.  B,,  1830 

The  Poetaster :  A  Drama.  In  two  volumes.  By  Lord  Charles 

Wellesley.  Volume  the  First,  ....  July  3rd,  1830 
The  Evening  Walk:  A  Poem.  By  the  Marquis  Douro,  ,  .  1830 

1  Ernest  Alembert  was  printed  in  Literary  Anecdotes  t  by  Thomas  J.  Wise  and  Dr. 
Robertson  Nicoll,  and  reprinted  for  private  circulation  by  Mr,  Wise  in  the  Ashley 
Library. 


APPENDIX  V  431 

A  Translation  into  English   Verse  of  the  first  Book  of  Voltaire 's 

Henriade.     By  Charlotte  Bronte, 1830 

Albion  and  Marina:  A  Tale.     By  Lord  Wellesley,        .         .         .     1830 
The    Violet :  A   Poem.      With    several  smaller   Pieces.      By   the 
Marquis   of  Douro.      Published   by  Sergeant  Tree.     Glass- 
town,  1830, 1830 

The  Bridal.     By  C.  Bronte, 1832 

Arthuriana;  or,  Odds  and  Ends :  Being  a  Miscellaneous  Collection 
of  Puces  in  Prose  and  Verse.  By  Lord  Charles  A.  F.  Wel- 
lesley,   1833 

Something  about  Arthur.      Written   by   Charles   Albert   Florian 

Wellesley, 1833 

The  Vision.     By  Charlotte  Bronte, 1833 

The  Secret  and  Lily  Hart;  Two  Tales.  By  Lord  Charles  Wel- 
lesley,   1833 

[The  first  pasje  of  this  book  is  given  in  facsimile  in  vol.  i.  of  Mrs. 
Gaskell's  Life  of  Charlotte  BronM.] 

Visits  in  Verdopolis*  By  the  Honourable  Charles  Albert  Florian 

Wellesley.  Two  vols., 1833 

The  Green  Dwarf:  A  Tale  of  the  Perfect Tense.  By  Lord  Charles 

Albert  Florian  Wellesley.  Charlotte  Bronte,  .  .  .  1833 

The  Foundling:  A  Tale  of  our  own  Times.     By  Captain  Tree,        .     1833 

Richard  C&ur  de  Lion  and  Blondel.  By  Charlotte  Bronte.  8vo, 
pp.  20.  Signed  in  full  Charlotte  Bronte,  and  dated  Haworth, 
near  Bradford,  Dec.  syth,  1833, 1833 

My  Angria  and  the  Angrians.  By  Lord  Charles  Albert  Florian 

Wellesley 1834 

A  Leaf  from  an  Unopened  Volume;  or,  The  Manuscript  of  an 
Unfortunate  Author.  Edited  by  Lord  Charles  Albert  Florian 
Wellesley 1834 

Corner  Dhhes ;  Btin%  a  small  Collection  of  .  .  .  Trifles  in  Prose 

and  Verse.  By  Lord  Charles  Albert  Florian  Wellesley,  .  1834 

The  Spell:  An  Extravaganza.  By  Lord  Charles  Albert  Florian 
Wellesley.  Signed  Charlotte  Bronte,  June  2ist,  1834.  The 
contents  include:  i.  Preface,  half  page;  2.  The  Spell,  26 
pages;  3.  High  Life  in  Verdopolis :  or  The  Difficulties  of 
Annexing  a  Suitable  Title  to  a  Work  Practically  Illustrated 
in  Six  Chapters.  By  Lord  C.  A.  F.  Wellesley,  March  20, 
1834,  22  pages;  4.  The  Scrap-Book :  A  Mingling  of  Many 
Things.  Compiled  by  Lord  C.  A.  F.  Wellesley.  C.  Bronte, 
March  iyth,  1835,  31  pages. 

[This  volume  is  in  the  British  Museum.] 

Death  of  Darius  Cadomanus :  A  Poem.     By  Charlotte  Bronte. 

Pp.  24,  Signed  in  full,  and  dated, 1835 

Saul  and  Memory :  Two  Poems.  By  C.  Bronte.  Pp.  12,  .  .  1835 

Passing  Events, 1836 

*  We.  Wove  a  Web  in  Childhood* :  A  poem  (pp.  vi.),  signed  C 

Bronte,  Haworth,  Dec'br,  iQth,  1835,    .         .        .        .        ,  1835 


432  THE  BRONTES 

The  Wounded  Stag,  and  other  Poems.    Signed  C.  Bronte.     Jan'y, 

19,    1836.       Pp.   20,  ........        1836 

Poems,     50  pages,        ........         1836-37 

Lord  Dour  o\  A  Story.     Signed  C.  Bronte.     July  2ist,  1837,         .     1837 
Poems.     By  C.  Bronte.     Pp.  16,  .......     1838 

Caroline  Vernon  :  A  Story.  In  three  Books.  Signed  Charles 

Townsend,     ..........     1839 

A  Story.  (Without  Title.)  Signed  C.  Townsend,  .  .  .  1839 
Lettre  <f  Invitation  a  un  Ecclesiastique.  Signed  Charlotte  Bronte. 

Le  21  Juillet,  1842.     Large  8vo,  pp.  4.    A  French  exercise 

written  at  Brussels,         ........     1842 

The  Moores.  By  Charlotte  Bronte.  Crown  Svo,  pp.  36,  written 

in  pencil,       .........     circa  1852 

Reprinted  in  Dr.  Robertson  Nicoll's  edition  si  Jane  Eyre, 

Willie  Ellin.     By  Charlotte  Bronte.     Crown  8vo,  pp.  18, 

May  and  June  1853 
Reprinted  in  The  Woman  at  Home  for  December  1898. 

The  following,  included  in  Charlotte's  'Catalogue  of  my  Books,'  printed 
by  Mrs.  Gaskell,  are  not  now  forthcoming  : 

Leisure  Hours  :  A  Tale,  and  two  Fragments  .       July  6th,  1829 

An  Interesting  Incident  in  the  Lives  of  some  of  the  most  eminent 

Persons  of  the  Age:  A  Tate,  .....  June  loth,  1830 
A  Book  of  Rhymes.  Finished,  ....  December  xyth,  1829 
Miscellaneous  Poems.  Finished,  .....  May  3rd,  I83O1 

[These  Miscellaneous  Poems  are  probably  poems  written  upon  separate 
sheets,  and  not  forming  a  complete  book  —  indeed,  some  half-dozen 
such  separate  poems  are  still  extant.  The  last  item  given  in  Char* 
lotte's  list  of  these  Miscellaneous  Poems  is  The  Evening  Walk> 
1820;  this  is  a  separate  book,  and  is  included  in  the  list  above.] 

BY  EMILY  BRONTE 

A  volume  of  Poems^  Svo,  pp.  29  ;  signed  (at  the  top  of  the  first 
page)  E.J,  B.  Transcribed  February  1844.  Each  poem  is 
headed  with  the  date  of  its  composition.  Of  the  poems  in- 
cluded in  this  book  four  are  still  imprinted,  the  remainder 
were  published  in  the  Poems  of  1846.  The  whole  are 
written  in  microscopic  characters,  ......  i  844 

A  volume  of  Poems>  square  Svo,  pp.  24.  Each  poem  is  dated,  and 
the  first  is  signed  E.J.  Bronte,  August  iQth,  1837.  Written 
in  an  ordinary,  and  not  a  minute,  handwriting.  All  un- 
published, ........  1837-1839 

A  series  of  poems  written  in  a  minute  hand  upon  both  sides  of 
fourteen  or  fifteen  small  slips  of  paper  of  various  sizes.  All 
unpublished,  ........ 


1  'The  Poems  of  Charlotte,  Emily,  and  Anne  Bronte*  in  these  lists  were  sold  to 
America,  and  privately  printed  by  Dodd,  Mead  and  Company  of  New  York  in,  1903 
under  that  title  —  no  copies  only.  Those  of  Emily  were  reprinted  in  Collected  Poems  , 
1908  (Hodder  and  Stoughton). 


APPENDIX  V  483 

Z,eftr£3.n&  Rcponse.     An  exercise  in  French.     Large  8vo,  pp,  4, 

Signed  E.  /.  Bronte,  and  dated  16  Juillet,          .         .  .     1842 

E  Amour  Filial.     An  exercise  in  French.     Small  quarto,  pp.  4. 

Signed  in  full  Emily  J.  Bronte,  and  dated  5  Aoiit,  .         .  ,     1842 


BY  ANNE   BRONTE 

Verses  by  Lady  Geralda,  and  other  poems.  A  crown  8vo  volume 
of  28  pages.  Each  poem  is  signed  (or  initialled)  and  dated, 
the  dates  extending  from  1836  to  1837.  The  poems  are  all 
unpublished, 1836-1837 

The  North  Wind,  and  other  poems.  A  crown  Svo  volume  of  26 
pages.  Each  poem  is  signed  (or  initialled)  and  dated,  some 
having  in  addition  to  her  own  name  the  nom-de-guerre 
Akxandrina  Zenobia  or  Olivia  Vernon.  The  dates  extend  from 
1838  to  1840.  The  poems  are  all  unpublished,  .  .  1838-1840 

To  Cowper,  and  other  poems.  8vo,  pp.  22.  Of  the  nine  poems 
contained  in  this  volume  three  are  signed  Anne  Bronte,  four 
are  signed  A.  Bronte,  and  two  are  initialled  'A.  B?  All 
are  dated.  Part  of  these  Poems  are  unpublished,  the 
remainder  appeared  in  the  Poems  of  1846,  .  .  .  1842-1845 

A  thin  Svo  volume  of  poems  (mostly  dated  1845),  PP-  T4>  each 
being  signed  A.  Bronte,  or  simply  'A.  J3.7 — some  having  in 
addition  to,  or  instead  of,  her  own  name  the  nom-de-guerre 
Zerona.  A  few  of  these  poems  are  imprinted ;  the  remainder 
are  a  portion  of  Anne's  contribution  to  the  Poems  of  1846, 

circa  1845 

Song:  f  Should  Lif£ s  first  feelings  be  forgot*  (one  octavo  leaf),         .     1845, 

[A  fair  copy  (2  pp.  Svo)  of  a  poem  by  Branwell  Bronte,  in  the  hand- 
writing; of  Anne  Bronte.] 

The  Power  of  Love -,  and  other  poems.  Post  octavo,  pp,  26.  Each 

poem  is  signed  (or  initialled)  and  dated,  .  .  .  1845-1846 

Self- -Communion ,  a  Poem.  8vo,  pp.  19.  Signed  £  A.  B?,  and  dated 

April  i  yth,  1848, ,  ,  184$ 


BY   BRANWELL  BRONTE 

The  Battle  of  Washington,     By  P.   B.  Bronte.     With  full-page 

coloured  illustrations,    ,        .        .        .        .        .        ,        .1827 

[An  exceedingly  childish  production,  and  the  earliest  of  all  the  Bronte- 
manuscripts.] 

History  of  the  Rebellion  in  my  Army, 1828 

The  Travels  of  Rolando  Segur :  Comprising  his  Adventures  through- 
out the  Voyage,  and  in  America,  Europe,  the  South  Pole,  etc. 
By  Patrick  Branwell  Bronte.    In  two  volumes,      .        .        .     1829 
JBranwell's  Blackwood's  Magazine.    Two  volumes     Glasstown,  July  1829 
VOL.  II.  2  E 


434  THE  BRONTES 

A  Collection  of  Poems.    By  Young  Soult  the  Rhymer.     Illustrated 
with  Notes  and  Commentaries  by  Monsieur  Chateaubriand. 

In  two  volumes, 1829 

The  Liar  Detected.    By  Captain  Bud, 1830 

Caractacus:  A  Dramatic  Poem.     By  Young  Soult,        .         .         .     1830 
The  Revenge:  A  Tragedy,  in  three  Acts.     By  Young  Soult.     P.  B. 

Bronte.    In  two  volumes.    Glasstown, 1830 

[Although  the  title-page  reads  *in  two  volumes,'  the  book  is  complete 
in  one  volume  only.] 

The  History  of  the  Young  Men.  By  John  Bud,  ,  .  .  .1831 
Letters  from  an  Englishman.  By  Captain  John  Flower.  In  six 

volumes, 1830-1832 

The  Monthly  Intelligencer.    No.  i,        ....    March  27,  1833 

[The  only  number  produced  of  a  projected  manuscript  newspaper,  by 
Branwell  Bronte.  The  MS.  consists  of  4  pp.  4to,  arranged  in 
columns,  precisely  after  the  manner  of  an  ordinary  journal.] 

Real  Life  in  Verdopolis:  A  Tale.     By  Captain  John  Flower,  M.P. 

In  two  volumes.  P.  B.  Bronte, 1833 

The  Politics  of  Verdopolis:  A  Tale.  By  Captain  John  Flower. 

P.  B.  Bronte, 1833 

The  Pirate ;  A  Tale.  By  Captain  John  Flower,  .  ,  .  -1833 

[The  most  pretentious  of  Bran  well's  prose  stories.] 

Thermopylae:  A  Poem.  By  P.  B.  Bronte.  8vo,  pp.  14,  .  .  1834 
And  the  Weary  are  at  Rest:  A  Tale.  By  P.  B.  Bronte,  .  .  1834 
The  Wool  is  Rising:  An  Angrian  Adventure.  By  the  Right 

Honourable  John  Baron  Flower, 

Ode  to  the  Polar  Star,  and  other  Poems.    By  P.  B*  Bronte.    Quarto, 

pp.  24, 1834 

The  Life  of  Fidd- Marshal  the  Right  Honourable  Alexander  Percy  ^ 

Earl  of  Northangerland.     In  two  volumes.     By  John  Bud. 

P.  B.  Bronte, 1835 

The  Rising  of  the  Angrians :  A  Tale.  By  P.  B.  Bronte,  ,  .  1836 
A  Narrative  of  the  First  War.  By  P.  B.  Bronte,  .  .  .  1836 
The  Angrian  Welcome:  A  Tale.  By  P.  B.  Bronte  ,  .  *  1836 

Percy  :  A  Story :     By  P.  B.  Bronte, 1837 

A  packet  containing  four  small  groups  of  Poems^  of  about  six  or 

eight  pages  each,  mostly  without  titles,  but  all  either  signed  or 

initialled,  and  dated  from  1836  to  1838. 

Love  and  Warfare :  A  Story.  By  P.  B.  Bronte,  ,  .  ,  ,  1839 
Lord  Nelson,  and  other  Poems.  By  P.  B.  Bronte.  Written  in 

pencil.    Small  8vo,  pp.  26, ,        .     1844 

[This  book  contains  a  full-page  pencil  portrait  of  Branwell  Bronte, 
drawn  by  himself,  as  well  as  four  carefully  finished  heads.  These 
give  an  excellent  idea  of  the  extent  of  Branwell's  artistic  skill,] 


APPENDIX  VI  435 


APPENDIX    VI 

PERSONAL  REMINISCENCES    OF   CHARLOTTE    BRONTE 

BY  JOHN   STORES   SMITH  IN   THE   c  FREE  LANCE*  OF  MARCH   7,    I8681 

IN  the  year  eighteen  hundred  and  fifty,  literature  had  not  yet  become  the 
multitudinous  entanglement  it  has  now  grown  into.  Mudie  was  little 
known  in  the  Metropolis  and  not  at  all  in  the  provinces.  There  were  no 
Smith's  stalls  at  the  railway  stations.  The  only  shilling  magazine  was  the 
now  defunct  Tait's ;  and  an  assiduous  reader  could  keep  up  with  all  the 
periodical  and  book  literature  of  the  day  :  and,  as  it  seems  to  me,  there  was 
a  different  spirit  in  the  readers.  The  reading  youth  of  the  country  regarded 
literature  with  enthusiasm  and  passion.  They  looked  forward  to  forth- 
coming works  of  their  favourite  authors  with  an  intense  eagerness,  and 
gave  themselves  infinite  trouble  to  get  early  possession  of  them,  and 
devoured  them  with  ecstasy,  and  would  have  walked  miles  to  catch  even 
a  passing  glimpse  of  their  authors.  The  vapid,  *  used-up '  tone  that  char- 
acterises the  young  men  of  to-day  did  not  exist.  Our  provincial  streets 
did  not  swarm  with  languid  Lord  Dundrearys  in  their  teens.  To  have 
written  a  book  was  then  a  distinction ;  and  it  was  a  passport  of  admittance 
to  whatever  of  thought  and  culture  our  northern  towns  professed.  Those 
who  were  indifferent  to  literature  simply  didn't  read  at  all,  and  were 
thought  no  worse  for  it  But  nearly  every  town  contained  its  distinct 
reading  set,  who  were  looked  down  upon  as  muffs,  or  up  to  with  respect, 
as  the  looker  up  or  down  was  a  man  of  sense  or  an  ass.  Such  a  small 
coterie  of  enthusiastic  admirers  of  literature  existed  then  in  a  little  York- 
shire town  which  I  will  designate  Horton.  They  were  its  intellectual  salt. 
For  the  mass  of  the  people  were  so  utterly  given  to  money-making — hard, 
narrow,  grasping,  grinding  money-making — to  adoration  of  the  stomach 
— to  ignorant  snobbery  among  the  older  families,  and  brutal,  rude  ignor- 
ance among  the  poorer  classes — that  the  place  had  no  apparent  raison 
tfetre  in  any  intelligible  theory  of  the  universe,  had  it  not  been  for  this 
little  knot  of  thoughtful  and  earnest-minded  young  men.  In  all  that 
appertains  to  the  noblest  and  highest  in  man,  they  were  the  best,  the  true 
aristocracy  of  the  place ;  and  those  that  thought  themselves  the  best  would 
not  have  had  one  of  them  within  their  doors.  The  bulk  of  the  middle"" 
•classes  were  sheer,  hard  money-grubbers  through  the  day,  and  the  majority 
fuddled  away  a  modicum  of  the  day's  winnings  at  the  various  inn-bars  at 
night;  and  the  rest  were  dismal,  unlettered  bigots  of  the  most  narrow 
section  of  Edward  Bainesism. 

i  John  Stores  Smith  wrote  Mirabeau1,  A  Life  History,  1848;  Social  Aspects >  1852; 
A  Treatise  on  the  Principles  of  Equity -,  1856;  Men  of  the  Scottish  Reformation^  1860; 
Practice  of  th&  Court  of  Chancery,  1862, 


436  THE  BRONTES 

But  this  small  clique  held  its  own,  and,  while  following  their  respective 

occupations  in  life  successfully,  avoided  the  gin  of  the  public-house  on  the 

one  hand,  and  the  bitters  of  Bainesitios  on  the  other.     One  or  two  were 

scientific  in  their  tastes,  some  musical,  but  all  were  literary.     Among  the 

number  was   the  present  Dean   of  University   College  and   Dr.  John 

Tyndall,  famous  over  the  wide,  wide  world.     There  was  a  solicitor  who 

would  sit  a  long  evening  without  talking,  but  who  would  crack  you  a 

German  nut  that  would  puzzle  many  a  German  himself — to  whom  Jean 

Paul  Richter  was  easy,  and  who,  if  questions  were  made  of  a  poem  of 

Goethe's,  or  a  ballad  of  Schiller's,  would  slip  an  elegant  translation  of  it 

into  your  hands  when  next  you  met  him.     There  was  a  bookkeeper  in  a 

manufacturer's  office  who  knew  all  the  flora  and  fauna  of  the  West  Riding 

— who  walked  miles  in  the  morning  or  on  Sundays  for  a  rare  specimen, 

and  who  came  to  these  little  reunions  to  superadd  somewhat  of  poetry, 

criticism,  art,  and  science.     The  most  many-sided  and  brilliant  of  the 

circle  was  a  gentleman  actively  engaged  in  trade,  but  who  had  found 

leisure  to  acquire  three  modern  languages  and  to  read  music  critically  at 

sight.    Well,  it  so  chanced  that  circumstances  made  me  an  inhabitant  of 

this  town  for  the  better  part  of  the  year  1850;  and  as  my  tastes  and 

pursuits  were  similar  to  those  of  this  coterie,  I  soon  found  my  way  into 

their  society,  and  as,  in  addition,  I  had  previously  published  a  work  which 

had  excited  some  little  attention  and  been  most  gloriously  abused,  I  was 

received  with  open  hands  and  hearts  more  open.    We  met  every  Saturday 

evening  at  the  rooms  of  the  present  dean,  and  when  I  joined  them,  I 

found  the  chief  topic  of  absorbing  interest,  the  temporary  subject  of  their 

hero-worship  was  Charlotte  Bronte. 

Her  Jane  Eyre  had  appeared  in  1848,  issuing  from  the  same  publisher's 
press  at  precisely  the  same  time  as  my  own  fiasco.  How  that  extra- 
ordinary work  took  the  public  by  storm  ;  how  the  press  and  public  were 
unanimous  that  an  original  genius,  of  a  most  delicate  and  remarkable 
organisation,  with  the  subtle  powers  of  observation  and  an  almost  weird 
gift  of  analysis,  had  flashed  upon  the  world,  is  a  matter  of  the  literary 
history  of  the  age.  It  is  not  so  much  a  matter  of  remembered  history 
how  great  and  tantalising  a  mystery  surrounded  its  authorship.  The 
critics  could  not  even  decide  whether  the  writer  were  man  or  woman. 
Some  maintained  the  one  and  some  the  other,  but  for  nearly  two  years 
not  a  corner  of  the  curtain  that  veiled  the  writer  had  been  lifted, 
Shirley  had  followed,  and  the  world  knew  the  author  only  by  the 
ambiguous  pseudonym  of  'Currer  Bell.7  None  had  read  these  works 
with  greater  relish,  or  taken  a  deeper  interest  in  the  discovery  of  their 
author  than  our  little  Horton  circle;  and  just  before  I  made  their 
acquaintance,  a  rumour,  treated  first  of  all  as  absurd,  had  gradually 
grown  probable,  and  it  was  then  as  near  a  matter  of  certainty  as  any 
unavowed  fact  can  be,  that  these  magic  pictures  were  from  the  pen  of  a 
lady,  living  only  nine  miles  off  across  the  moors,  and  whose  very  brother 
had  only  recently  ceased  to  be  a  station-master  in  the  very  immediate 
neighbourhood. 

This  being  the  state  of  affairs  as  regards  Currer  Bell,  it  was  one 
evening  decided,  in  full  conclave  of  our  little  society,  that  as  fate  had 
seemed  somehow  to  connect  me  with  the  author  by  sending  us  both 


APPENDIX  VI  437 

upon  the  world  of  books  in  the  same  year,  and  from  the  same  press,  and 
in  now  bringing  me  to  her  very  threshold  so  to  speak,  it  might  not  be 
unbecoming  to  help  fate  a  little,  and  bring  myself  into  personal  relation- 
ship to  her.  It  was  resolved  that  I  might,  without  any  impertinence,  nay, 
with  a  loyal  frankness  that  could  not  be  other  than  agreeable  to  her, 
forward  a  presentation  copy  of  my  work,  with  a  note  expressive  of  niy 
own  and  my  friends'  admiration  for  the  productions  of  our  wondrous 
neighbour.  With  that  glowing  oblivion  of  conventionality  which  glorifies 
youth,  I  followed  this  course,  and  on  our  next  Saturday  evening  I  was 
able  to  exhibit  the  following  acknowledgment : — 

March  6th,  1850. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  have  to  thank  you  very  sincerely  for  your  kind  note  and 
the  volumes  accompanying  it.  Through  the  kindness  of  my  publishers, 

I  had  already  enjoyed  the  opportunity  of  reading  e ,J  but  it  is  an 

additional  pleasure  to  possess  the  work  as  a  gift  from  the  author. 

I  am  happy  to  learn  that  my  writings  have  afforded  you  some  agreeable 
moments,  and  if  my  gratification  is  a  little  chastened  by  the  fear  that  you 
ascribe  to  me  a  merit  beyond  my  deserts,  perhaps  it  is  better  so ;  the 
unmixed  cup  is  rarely  salutary. 

With  every  good  wish  for  your  success  in  the  honourable  but  difficult 
career  of  literature, — I  am,  my  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely} 

CURRER  BELL. 

For  Currer  Bell  to  acknowledge  by  return  of  post  the  receipt  of  a  letter 
addressed  to  Miss  Bronte  placed  their  identity  beyond  a  doubt;  and 
many  Sundays  had  not  elapsed  before  two  of  our  party  were  seized  with 
an  ardent  desire  to  attend  Divine  Service  at  the  Parish  Church,  Haworth. 
I  was  not  one  of  the  two.  Rising  betimes  they  crossed  the  moors,  and 
reached  the  place  in  time  for  morning  service,  and  when  it  was  over  they 
left  the  church,  and,  ostensibly  studying  epitaphs,  placed  themselves  in 
such  a  position  as  to  command  a  sight  of  any  one  coming  from  the 
church  to  the  parsonage.  They  were  gratified  by  the  vision  of  a  lady, 
who  perfectly  realised  their  preconceived  idea  of  Currer  Bell,  and  who  it 
subsequently  was  made  manifest  was  not  Miss  Bronte.  But  we  were  not 
the  less  deeply  interested  with  their  graphic  account  of  the  place  and  the 
personal  appearance  of  our  supposed  authoress. 

It  was  somewhere  about  this  time  that  Miss  Bronte  visited  London  and 
appeared  in  various  circles  of  society,  as  the  avowed  writer  of  fane  Eyrt 
and  Shirley  ;  and,  as  in  that  visit  she  made  the  acquaintance  of  several 
friends  of  my  own,  I  had  no  scruple  in  forwarding  her  a  copy  of  a  second 
work  of  mine,  which  appeared  in  July.  In  a  day  or  two  the  following 
letter  came  to  hand  ; — 

HA  wo  RT  H  ,  July  2$tA9  1850, 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  not  yet  read  the  whole  of  the  work  you  have 
kindly  sent  me,  but  I  have  read  enough  of  it  to  feel  impatient  to  offer  my 
sincere  congratulations  on  the  marked — the  important  progress  made  by 
the  author  since  the  publication  of  his  c ,'  I  find  ' '  deeply  in- 
teresting, as  all  must  find  it  who  accord  the  book  an  attentive  perusal.  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  views  here  expressed  have  a  peculiar  rectitude,  that 
the  thoughts  are  full  of  sound  sense,  and  that  these  views  are  advocated, 


438  THE  BRONTES 

and  these  thoughts  advanced  with  an  earnestness  that  deserves,  and,  I 
trust,  will  command  general  attention. 

In  writing  this  book  you  have  cast  good  seed  into  the  ground ;  that 
you  may  see  it  ripen  and  gather  ihe  produce  a  hundredfold,  is  the  sincere 
wish  of — Yours  very  truly,  C.  BRONTE. 

P.S. — You  mention  Mrs.  Gaskell  and  Miss  Jewsbury.  I  regard  as  an 
honour  any  expression  of  interest  from  these  ladies.  The  latter  I  had 
once  the  pleasure  of  meeting  in  London. 

Still,  Currer  Bell  was  only  a  shadow  to  me,  and  often  during  my  rambles 
over  the  hills  and  moorlands  around  Horton,  my  eye  would  wander  over 
the  tumbled  billows,  and  wavy  stretches  of  heather,  to  certain  crests  and 
eminences,  whose  grey  old  tops  I  knew  well  looked  down  upon  the  lonely 
hamlet  wherein  this  bright  daughter  of  the  empyrean  had  her  mortal 
dwelling ;  and  a  desire  would  steal  over  me  to  extend  my  walk  an  hour  or 
two  and  pay  a  passing  call.  At  length  it  chanced  that  to  find  my  way 
from  a  certain  place  I  had  to  visit,  to  journey  through  Keighley,  and 
Haworth  would  be  what  the  country-folk  call  my  'gainest'  road  to 
Horton.  I  therefore  dropped  a  short  note  to  Miss  Bronte,  saying  that,  if 
quite  agreeable  to  her,  I  would  do  myself  the  honour  of  calling  upon  her 
on  such  and  such  a  day  •  and  having  received  a  very  kind  reply,  saying 
she  would  be  glad  to  see  me  and  inviting  me  to  dinner,  I  found  myself  at 
Keighley  Station  on  a  lovely  morning  in  September,  and  I  was,  I  believe, 
the  first  person  out  of  her  own  immediate  circle  of  relatives  and  friends 
who  spent  a  day  with  Charlotte  Bronte  in  her  own  home,  now  familiar  by 
pen  and  pencil  to  every  one  to  whom  genius  is  admirable  and  the  tragedies 
of  domestic  life  are  sacred. 


PERSONAL  REMINISCENCES— Continued 

A  DAY  WITH  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

THE  village  of  Haworth,  its  weather-beaten  church,  and  lonely  and 
desolate  parsonage,  have  been  painted  in  words  so  very  frequently  and,  at 
times,  so  very  well,  since  the  lamented  death  of  her  who  alone  rendered 
that  obscure  hamlet  worth  a  passing  word,  as  to  render  it  almost  superero- 
gatory for  me  to  add  another  to  that  multitude  of  descriptions.  And  yet 
any  attempt  to  give  a  full  and  vivid  conception  of  Charlotte  Bronte  would 
altogether  fail  if  quite  stripped  of  due  local  colouring.  For  the  material 
aspects  of  Haworth — the  quiet  desolation  of  its  mouldy  struggle  to  the 
unbroken  solitudes  of  the  boundless  moors,  are  the  background  upon 
which,  and  upon  which  only,  can  Miss  Bronte's  portrait  be  portrayed. 
Haworth  was  a  part  of  her  innermost  nature ;  it  was  the  ground  melody 
that  ran  through  her  every  book,  and  laid  the  basis  of  her  idiosyncrasy, 
Had  the  Bronte  family  lived  in  any  other  village  in  England,  there  might 
have  been  a  Charlotte  Bronte,  but  assuredly  there  would  have  been  no 
Currer  Bell.  It  was  the  visible,  material  Haworth,  and  its  surrounding 
belt  of  trackless  and  unpopulated  moorland,  that  made  poets  of  the  young 
Brontes — poets  none  the  less  because  their  inspiration  did  not  have  a 
rhythmic  utterance— that  gave  the  strange,  almost  unearthly  tone  to  their 


APPENDIX  VI  439 

intellectual  characteristics.  Haworth  called  their  genius  into  being — 
moulded  it  into  ripened  originality,  and  then  slew  them.  It  was  at  once 
the  creator  of  Currer  Bell  and  her  assassin.  Therefore  a  few  descriptive 
touches  are  essential  to  any  attempted  photograph  of  that  lady.  More- 
over, I  am  conscious  to  this  moment  how  thoroughly  the  spirit  of  the 
place  weighed  upon  my  own  mind  and  nature,  and  coloured  my  first 
impressions  of  Miss  Bronte,  and  has  entwined  itself  around  her  in  my 
memory  inseparable  for  ever.  Inquiring  my  way  in  the  town  of  Keighley, 
I  was  told  that  the  village  of  Haworth  lay  some  three  miles  off,  on  the 
road  to  Bradford  and  Halifax ;  accordingly  I  set  my  face  southward,  with 
a  brisk  foot  and  a  light  heart.  After  walking  a  good  half-hour,  I  per- 
ceived the  long  line  of  a  single  street  which,  leaving  the  main  road 
abruptly,  climbed  steeply  to  the  western  hills  for  about  a  mile,  and  then 
terminated  sharply  and  at  once  with  the  grey-green  tower  of  a  church. 
This  place  seemed  so  directly  out  of  the  way  to  Bradford,  that  I  paid  little 
attention  to  it,  and  never  dreamed  that  it  could  be  the  temporary  ending 
of  my  walk.  But  when  I  reached  the  point  of  bifurcation,  and  saw  the 
southern  road  stretching  over  the  uplands  rather  to  the  eastward,  without 
a  trace  of  any  village  on  its  course,  I  made  inquiries,  and  then  found  that 
this  street-village  was  the  Haworth  I  was  in  search  of.  It  lay  there  like 
a  speculation  given  up  in  despair,  as  one  comes  across,  in  lonely  places, 
up  and  down,  a  half-sunk  coal  shaft,  with  an  abandoned  pump  atop,  or  a 
scraped  hillside  giving  evidence  of  an  abandoned  stone  delph,  both 
telling  their  own  sad  tale  of  fruitless  hope,  and  bootless  expenditure,  and 
ruined  fortunes;  so  did  this  single-street  Haworth  give  you  the  idea,  that, 
in  some  impulsive  intoxication  of  the  past,  vigorous  spirits  had  determined 
to  run  one  long  Oxford  Street  of  houses  over  the  moors  to  Colne,  and 
having  lost  heart  and  energy  by  the  way,  had  flung  the  attempt  up  in 
despair,  and  with  a  last  expiring  effort  had  erected  a  church  to 
administer  consolation  to  the  baffled  and  dispirited  projectors.  What 
Haworth  may  be  now  I  do  not  know.  The  vast  extension  of  the  woollen 
trade  may  have  galvanised  even  it  into  the  semblance  of  prosperous  and 
vigorous  life.  But  in  1850  it  was  the  most  dead-alive,  melancholy- 
looking  place  it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  see.  No  sign  of  life,  or  trade,  or 
traffic,  was  perceptible.  The  very  houses  seemed  miserable,  and  if  stones 
could  look  positively  heartless,  they  did.  Divested  of  all  the  beauty  and 
Oriental  colouring,  it  was  a  very  Lotus  land ;  a  place  where,  let  the  sun 
shine  never  so  brightly — and  most  gloriously  it  did  that  day — 'it  seemed 
always  afternoon.'  By  the  time  I  had  reached  the  end  of  its  steep  hill,  my 
body  was  wearied,  and  my  high  spirits  had  all  given  way  to  an  oppressive 
numbness  of  soul.  How  any  one  could  live  a  lifetime  there,  and  not 
grow  morbid,  was  incomprehensible;  and  now  I  could  read  the  secret 
of  Patrick  Bronte's  life,  some  details  of  which  had  even  reached  me, 
long  ere  Mrs.  Gaskell  laid  them  so  inaccurately  bare  to  the  public  gaze. 
But  when  I  had  traversed  the  damp  and  depressing  churchyard — a 
flagged  congregation  of  the  dead,  which  seemed  to  combine  all  the 
dismal  ugliness  of  a  city  graveyard  with  the  savage  isolation  of  the  wilds 
— and  stood  in  front  of  the  parsonage,  all  the  inner  mysteries  of  Wuther 
ing  Heights  and  Wildfell  Hall,  and  the  gnome-like  genius  and  premature 
deaths  of  Ellis  and  Acton  Bell,  were  clear  to  me.  The  parsonage  was  a 


440  THE  BRONTES 

low  stone  house  which  occupied  one  corner  of  the  graveyard,     A  field 

had  evidently  been  set  apart,  and  the  founders  of  the  church  had  said, 

*  In  three-fourths  of  it  we  will  inter  the  dead,  and  in  that  other  fourth  we 

will  bury  the  living.'     A  little  garden  was  before  it,  and  you  stept  straight 

off  the  gravestones  into  it.     You  also  went  down  one  step,  as  toward  a 

larger  grave.     A  flagged  walk  led  up  to  the  front  door,  and  it  was  covered 

over  with  a  damp,  green  film,  and  in  the  interstices  grew  an  almost  black 

moss.    The  garden  on  either  side  was  filled  with  various  common  country 

plants  and  shrubs,  but  bore  no  trace  of  any  care  of  attention,  and  the 

exuberant  vegetation  of  autumn's  excess  hid  their  nature,  and  gave  me 

the  phantom-like  feeling  that  I  was  looking  upon  the  colony  of  the  fabled 

Mandrake.     The  stone  of  the  house  was  of  the  same  melancholy  tint  as 

the  flags  of  the  walk ;  a  small  door  was  in  the  centre,  and  a  window  on 

either  side ;  in  the  only  storey  about  were  three  windows,  I  think.     Of  all 

the  sad,  heart-broken-looking  dwellings  I  had  passed  through,  this  looked 

the  saddest.     A  great  sinking  of  spirit  came  over  me,  and  I  wished  I  had 

not  come.     I  felt  that  my  face,  could  I  have  seen  it,  had  instinctively  put 

on  that  expression  one  endeavours  to  wear  when  attending  a  funeral;  I 

also  felt  that  I  was  out  of  keeping  with  the  atmosphere  of  the  place. 

What  was  I  doing  taking  the  hot  blood  and  rollicking  high  spirits  of  one- 

and-twenty  into   the  sombre,  silent  catacomb?     I   stood  at  the  gate 

irresolute,  half  thinking  I  would  sneak  away  and  not  pay  my  promised 

visit,  when  a  ludicrous  and  rather  grotesque  incident  decided  for  me 

otherwise. 

In  those  days  I  possessed  a  dog,  which  had  become  a  loved  companion 
of  my  rambles.  He  was  a  young  creature,  having  just  attained  the  age 
that,  according  to  the  laws  of  dog-hood,  might  be  considered  his  majority. 
I  never  rightly  knew  his  breed,  but  his  descent  was  Scotch.  He  was 
covered  with  long,  thick,  wiry  drab  hair,  was  of  great  length  and  little 
height  He  commenced  with  a  black  nose  and  shaggy  face,  as  shrewd- 
looking  as  that  of  a  U.  P.  elder,  and  a  pair  of  bandy  legs ;  and  then  went 
on  for  such  a  length  that  it  seemed  as  though  nature  had  purposed  to 
extend  him  indefinitely,  but,  getting  tired,  had  clapped  on  a  tail  by  way  of 
writing  cto  be  continued,'  and  so  left  him.  This  dog  arrived  at  the 
garden  wicket  simultaneously  with  myself.  Now  it  so  chanced  that  the 
dog  of  the  parsonage  was  taking  his  siesta  in  the  sun  at  the  very  moment, 
and  lay  curled  into  a  huge  ball  on  the  doorstep.  He  was  very  old,  and 
almost  toothless,  and  I  believe  wholly  blind.  His  breed  was  conglo- 
merate, combining  every  species  of  English  canininity  from  the  turnspit 
to  the  sheep-dog,  with  a  strain  of  Haworth  originality  superadtled.  This 
had  been  the  companion  of  Emily  Bronte  in  her  long  stroll  across  the 
hills,  when  she  wandered  afar,  with  brain  seething  with  weird  imaginings ; 
and  later,  when  she  sought  the  congenial  melancholy  of  the  moors  with 
weakening  footsteps,  and  heart  and  brain  gradually  fading  before  the  fatal 
advance  of  the  English  Atropos — consumption.  In  the  exuberance  of  his 
youth,  with  tail  wagging  and  ears  cocked,  my  dog  trotted  gaily  up  to  this 
poor  old  memento  of  the  past,  and  in  a  second  there  was  such  an  uproar 
as  Haworth  churchyard  had  seldom  or  never  heard.  With  an  angry  roar, 
the  old  dog,  by  sheer  weight,  rolled  the  younger  one  over  and  commenced 
a  painless  worrying  with  his  toothless  gums;  and  the  other,  smarting 


APPENDIX  VI  441 

under  the  first  rebuff  he  had  yet  encountered,  howled  for  vexation  rather 
than  pain.  In  a  minute  or  less  I  had  nipped  up  my  animal,  and  held 
him  under  my  arm,  barking  furiously,  while  the  old  one  rolled  to  and  fro 
among  the  mandrakes,  blindly  seeking  his  vanished  enemy.  At  this 
instant  the  door  opened  and  the  servant  appeared,  and  behind  her  on  the 
stairs  the  authoress  of  Jane  Eyre.  Here  was  a  romantic  meeting.  An 
enthusiastic  genius-lover  and  hero-worshipper,  with  a  heart  aflame 
towards  literature,  and  all  its  priests  and  sybils,  literally  blazing  with 
earnestness,  makes  a  pilgrimage  to  the  most  original  lady  of  the  age,  and 
he  meets  her  thus ;  with  a  barking  terrier  under  his  arm,  and  a  growling 
old  conglomerate  mumbling  at  his  calves.  To  this  hour  I  have  only  a 
confused  recollection  of  the  servant  taking  my  dog  from  me,  saying  that 
she  would  fasten  him  up  in  the  stable ;  of  a  slender  lady,  more  like  a 
spirit  than  a  corporal  being,  bidding  me  welcome  with  a  quiet,  amused 
smile  on  her  lips ;  of  her  telling  me  that  she  had  half-an-hour's  writing 
that  must  be  done  ere  dinner,  and,  having  asked  me  to  be  so  good  as  to 
pass  that  interval  with  her  father,  of  her  opening  a  door  to  the  right  and 

showing  me  into  a  small  room,  with  the  words — 'Father,  this  is  Mr. , 

whom  I  have  told  you  about,'  closing  the  door  behind  me,  and  leaving 
me  flustered  and  confused  in  the  presence  of  a  blind  old  man.1  Had  I 
never  seen  more  of  Miss  Bronte,  I  should  have  had  no  impression  of  her 
left  on  my  mind. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Bronte  was  the  ruin  of  what  had  been  a  striking  and 
singularly  handsome  man.  He  was  tall,  strongly  built,  and  even  then 
perfectly  erect.  His  hair  was  nearly  white,  but  his  eyebrows  were  still 
black;  his  features  were  large  and  handsome,  but  he  was  quite  blind. 
He  was  dressed  very  carelessly,  in  almost  worn-out  clothes,  had  no  proper 
necktie,  and  was  in  slippers.  He  sat  beside  the  fireplace  erect  in  his 
chair,  facing  the  window,  and  he  seemed  to  look  steadfastly  towards  the 
light  with  his  sightless  orbs,  which  were  never  again  to  behold  it,  until 
the  celestial  splendour  of  the  New  Jerusalem  flash  upon  them,  when  the 
sun  and  moon  shall  be  no  more.  The  blind  old  dog  curled  himself  on 
the  hearth  at  his  blind  old  master's  feet.  He  commenced  conversation 
almost  immediately  upon  his  daughter.  I  had  read  and  admired  her 
works  ?  I  told  him  I  had,  and  gave  my  honest  opinion  of  their  fascinating 
interest  and  startling  originality.  And  was  that  the  general  verdict  of  the 
world?  I  gave  him  a  summary  of  many  criticisms  I  well  remembered, 
and  at  every  pause  he  rubbed  his  knees  slowly,  and  muttered  in  half 
soliloquy :  f  And  I  hadn't  an  idea  of  it.  To  think  of  me  never  even  sus- 
pecting it.  Strange !  Strange  ! '  And  then  he  talked  about  Emily  and 
the  other  sister,  and  told  me  how  he  had  considered  Emily  the  genius  of 
the  family,  how  he  never  fancied  Charlotte  capable  of  writing  anything, 
and  could  scarcely  realise  it,  and  as  he  did  so,  he  ever  and  anon  fell  into 
reverie  again,  and  muttered  the  old  refrain  :  c  And  I  knew  nothing  about 
it,  positively  nothing.  Strange !  Strange !  Perhaps  I  might  have  stopped 
it  if  I  had.  But  I  knew  nothing — nothing/  He  seemed  to  have  a  three- 
fold feeling— regret  that  novels  should  have  proceeded  from  his  daughters ; 
paternal  pride,  evident  and  sometimes  garrulous,  demonstrative  pride; 

1  We  know  from  Charlotte  Bronte's  letters  that  her  father  was  not  blind  at  this  time. 


442  THE  BRONTES 

and  a  wandering  inability  altogether  to  believe  it.  After  a  little  he  turned 
upon  the  untimely  deaths  of  his  younger  children ;  dwelt  much  upon 
both,  and  then  fell  into  soliloquy  once  more:  *  And  she  is  dead  !  And 
Emily  dead  too  !  both  dead  !  All  dead  ! ' 

*  While  he  was  talking  thus,  the  lonely  place, 
The  Old  Man's  shape  and  speech  all  troubled  me.' 

How  could  I  talk  to  him  ?  What  were  my  inflated  schemes  and  random 
day-dreams,  what  was  the  weather,  or  trade,  or  politics,  to  this  blind  old 
ruin  sitting  there,  confused  amid  the  splendour  of  his  child's  success,  and 
mourning  on  the  sad  hearth-stone  of  a  bereaved  fireside  ?  I  could  not 
talk.  I  could  only  sit  subdued  and  depressed,  as  I  might  have  kept 
watch  beside  a  corpse.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  had  practical 
experience  that  even  in  the  comet-like  track  of  genius,  all  is  not  brilliance. 
Here  was  the  most  original  living  Englishwoman,  who  had  broken  out 
into  the  full  glory  of  an  achieved  success,  whose  pen  was  wealth  to  her, 
whose  name  was  on  every  cultivated  tongue,  and  whose  creations  were  in 
every  cultivated  mind,  and  this — this  was  her  home !  I  was  so  musing, 
when,  after  the  lapse  of  about  an  hour,  the  door  opened  and  the  servant 
announced  dinner. 

I  was  shown  across  the  lobby  into  the  parlour  to  the  left,  and  there  I 
found  Miss  Bronte  standing  in  full  light  of  the  window,  and  I  had  ample 
opportunity  of  fixing  her  upon  my  memory,  where  her  image  is  visibly 
present  to  this  hour.  She  was  diminutive  in  height  and  extremely  fragile 
in  figure.  Her  hand  was  one  of  the  smallest  I  ever  grasped.  She  had 
no  pretensions  of  being  considered  beautiful,  and  yet  was  far  removed 
from  being  plain.  She  had  rather  light  brown  hair,  somewhat  thin  and 
drawn  plainly  over  her  brow.  Her  complexion  had  no  trace  of  colour  in 
it,  and  her  lips  were  pallid  also  ;  but  she  had  a  sweet  smile,  with  a  touch 
of  tender  melancholy  in  it.  Altogether  she  was  as  unpretending,  unde- 
monstrative, quiet  a  little  lady  as  you  could  meet.  Her  age  I  took  to  be 
about  five-and-thirty.  But  when  you  saw  and  felt  her  eyes,  the  spirit  that 
created  Jane  Eyre  was  revealed  to  you  at  once.  They  were  rather 
small,  but  of  a  very  peculiar  colour,  and  had  a  strange  lustre  and  intensity. 
They  were  chameleon-like,  a  blending  of  brown  and  various  olive  tints. 
But  they  looked  you  through  and  through,  and  you  felt  they  were  forming 
an  opinion  of  you,  not  by  mere  acute  noting  of  Lavaterish  physiognomical 
peculiarities,  but  by  a  subtle  penetration  into  the  very  marrow  of  your 
mind  and  the  innermost  core  of  your  soul.  Taking  my  hand,  again  she 
apologised  for  her  enforced  absence,  and  as  she  did  so,  she  looked  right 
through  me.  There  was  no  boldness  in  the  gaze,  but  an  intense,  direct, 
searching  look,  as  of  one  who  had  the  gift  to  read  hidden  mysteries,  and 
the  right  to  read  them.  I  had  a  feeling  that  I  never  experienced  before 
or  since,  as  though  I  was  being  mesmerised.  It  was  almost  a  relief  when 
the  look  was  removed,  and  we  sat  down  together  to  table.  During  dinner 
I  had  always  a  feeling  that  those  eyes  were  upon  me,  when  I  was  looking 
down  myself,  and  when  I  looked  at  her,  and  her  gaze  was  on  her  plate,  I 
still  could  not  divest  myself  of  the  sensation  that  those  eyes  could  see 
through  their  lids.  We  did  not  converse  much  while  the  simple  meal  was 
being  despatched,  but  afterwards  we  had  a  ceaseless  talk  extending  over 


APPENDIX  VI  443 

fully  two  hours.  I  have  not  one  single  phrase  of  her  conversation  to 
chronicle.  There  was  neither  wit,  nor  fancy,  nor  brilliance  in  her  remarks. 
Her  talk  was  remarkable  for  strong,  shrewd,  homely  sense,  tersely,  briefly, 
directly,  and  vigorously  expressed.  There  was  not  a  trace  of  the  literary 
woman  about  her;  no  attempt  at  effect,  no  tours  de phrase.  The  merit  of 
her  remarks  lay  altogether  in  the  matter,  and  not  the  least  in  the  manner. 
About  herself,  and  sisters,  and  family  generally,  she  was  reticent,  and 
seemed  to  put  the  subject  markedly  away  from  her.  She  confined  her 
observations  to  myself,  my  designs  and  prospects,  and  to  the  expression 
of  her  views  of  London  literary  men  and  their  lives  and  characters. 

As  regards  myself,  she  at  once  assumed  an  almost  maternal  tone.  I 
was  then  about  to  perpetrate  one  of  those  colossal  follies  which  only  the 
fervour  of  youth  renders  possible ;  which  we  lament  for  many  years,  and 
then,  later  in  life,  envy  the  heart  that  was  capable  of  such  courageous, 
hopeful  recklessness.  I  was  about  to  abandon  reliable  commerce,  and  go 
up  to  London  and  take  my  chance  in  the  intricate  jungle  of  literature. 
She  did  not  directly  endeavour  to  dissuade  me.  I  fancy  those  mesmeric 
eyes  had  told  her  that  that  would  be  as  useless  a  task  as  to  attempt  to 
make  Haworth  lively.  But  she  did  point  out  that  if  I  continued  to  write 
such  matter  as,  she  was  complimentary  enough  to  say,  was  alone  worthy 
of  me,  I  must  starve,  and  she  seemed  to  think  the  tamest  Haworth  life 
was  preferable  to  the  turning  of  the  pen  into  a  literary  tight-rope  dancing- 
machine  for  gold.  But  she  sought  to  turn  me  away  from  London  by  an 
indirect  method.  Whether  she  exaggerated  her  real  sentiments  for  my 
benefit,  or  whether  she  afterwards  in  any  way  modified  her  views,  I  do  not 
know,  but  certainly  in  1850,  shortly  after  her  visit  to  London  as  a  literary 
lioness,  she  pictured  her  impressions  of  metropolitan  literary  life  in  most 
forbidding  colours,  and  with  clear,  cutting,  intense  distaste  of  it ;  I  may 
even  say  contempt.  Dickens  she  had  met,1  and  admired  his  genius,  but  did 
not  like  him.  Her  homely  thrift  and  unpretending,  retiring  nature  shrunk 
from  him,  from  an  idea  she  had  acquired  of  ostentatious  extravagance  on 
his  part.  Thackeray  she  absolutely  worshipped.  Carlyle  she  knew  little 
of,  but  reverenced  the  dignity  of  his  life,  though  she  disliked  his  writings. 
Of  one  eminent  man  in  criticism,  and  metaphysical  and  scientific  litera- 
ture, she  had  an  absolute  loathing ;  and  of  the  ruck  and  run  of  the  minor 
Guerillas  and  Bohemians  of  Letters  she  spoke  with  a  supreme  contempt. 
She  had  looked  literary  life  full  in  the  face,  and  was  contented  to  die  in 
Haworth,  rather  than  to  live  in  that.  Throughout  all  this  she  evinced  an 
almost  tender  interest  in  myself.  Here  is  an  ingenuous  youth,  with 
the  sails  of  his  fresh  manhood  full  set,  and  the  colours  of  an  exalted 
imagination  flying,  bearing  straight  down  upon  Charybdis ;  I  will  strain 
my  graphic  power  to  show  him  clearly  that  it  is  to  Charybdis  he  is 
going.  I  remember  well  her  last  words.  They  were :  '  When  you  get  to 
London,  seek  out  and  gain  the  friendship  of  Mr.  Thackeray  •  maintain  that 
of  Mr.  Carlyle ;  but  as  for  the  general  body  who  call  themselves  literary 
men,  avoid  them  as  a  moral  pestilence,' 

By  this  time  it  was  five  o'clock,  and  I  took  my  leave.  I  left  by  the 
back  way,  and  so  got  my  dog  off  without  another  fracas.  I  strode  away 

1  This  is  an  error.     Charlotte  Bronte  never  met  Charles  Dickens. 


444  THE  BRONTES 

through  the  long  street  of  Haworth,  and  mounted  the  eastward  hills ;  and 
it  was  not  until  the  fresh  breezes  of  the  moors  were  blowing  over  me,  that 
I  felt  the  sense  of  despondent  depression  in  any  way  lightened.  As  it  was, 
I  turned  round  and  bade  adieu  to  the  receding  church  and  parsonage 
with  feelings  of  pain  and  sorrow.  I  was  sorry  for  the  solitary  lady  I  had 
left  behind.  I  never  dreamed  that  she  would  have  married,  but  I  felt  that 
she  must  die.  I  was  sorry  for  myself.  I  felt  that  I  had  met  a  Cassandra, 
and  though  my  will  was  determined  not  to  heed  her,  the  still  small  voice 
within  me  said  that  her  vaticinations  were  correct,  and  that  I  was  on  my 
way  to  disaster.  Both  feelings  were  correct.  I  encountered  shipwreck, 
and  Miss  Bronte  died. 

So  ended  my  day  with  Charlotte  Bronte.  A  more  unrelieved,  oppres- 
sive story  than  hers  and  her  sisters  I  do  not  recollect.  Their  brief 
existence  was  one  overclouding  nightmare,  and  the  hand  that  touched 
them  and  dispelled  it  was  the  hand  of  death. 


APPENDIX    VII 

THESE  letters  were  received  after  the  volumes  had  gone  to  press.  The 
editor  will  be  obliged  if  any  of  his  readers  will  send  him  other  letters  by 
Charlotte  Bronte  for  incorporation  in  later  editions. 


Letter  i 

TO   ELLEN   NUSSEY 

January^  1840. 

MY  DEAR  ELLEN, — I  write  a  hasty  line  to  assure  you  we  shall  be  happy 
to  see  you  on  the  day  you  mention,  Friday  week.  I  will  do  my  best  to 
give  you  what  assistance  I  can  while  you  stay  with  us,  and  as  you  are 
now  acquainted  with  the  neighbourhood  and  its  total  want  of  society, 
and  with  our  plain,  monotonous  mode  of  life,  I  do  not  fear  so  much  as 
I  used  to  do  that  you  will  be  disappointed  with  the  dulness  and  sameness 
of  your  visit. 

One  thing,  however,  will  make  the  daily  routine  more  unvaried  than 
ever.  Branwell,  who  used  to  enliven  us,  is  to  leave  us  in  a  few  days  to 
enter  the  situation  of  a  private  tutor  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Ulverston. 
How  he  will  like  or  settle  remains  yet  to  be  seen ;  at  present  he  is  full  of 
hope  and  resolution. 

I,  who  know  his  variable  nature,  and  his  strong  turn  for  active  life,  dare 
not  be  too  sanguine.  We  are  as  busy  as  possible  preparing  for  his  depar- 
ture, and  shirt-making  and  collar-stitching  fully  occupy  our  time.  Friday 
week  I  look  forward  to  with  impatience ;  don't  change  your  day.  Good- 
bye, my  dear  Ellen.  C  BRONTE, 

I  think  it  is  your  turn  to  scold  about  bad  writing. 

P.S. — The  bag  I  was  working  for  you  remains  just  in  the  state  it  wa* 
four  months  ago.  When  you  come  I  '11  try  to  finish  it. 


APPENDIX  VII  445 

Letter  2 

TO  ELLEN  NUSSEY 

October  14^,  1850. 

DEAR  ELLEN,  —  I  return  A.'s  letters.  She  seems  quite  happy  and  fully 
satisfied  of  her  husband's  affection.  Is  this  the  usual  way  of  spending 
the  honeymoon?  To  me  it  seems  as  if  they  overdo  it;  that  travelling, 
and  tugging,  and  fagging  about  and  getting  drenched  and  muddied,  by 
no  means  harmonises  with  my  notions  of  happiness;  besides,  the  two 
meals  a  day,  etc.,  would  do  me  up.  It  all  reminds  me  too  sharply  of  the 
few  days  I  spent  in  London  nearly  ten  years  ago,  when  I  was  many  a  time 
fit  to  drop  with  the  fever  and  faintness  resulting  from  long  fasting  and 
excessive  fatigue.  However,  no  doubt,  a  bride  can  bear  such  things  better 
than  others.  I  smiled  to  myself  at  some  passages;  she  has  wondrous 
faith  in  her  husband's  intellectual  powers  and  acquirements.  Joe's  illu- 
sion will  soon  be  over,  but  Amelia's  will  not,  and  therein  she  is  happier 
than  he. 

What  will  be  the  proper  thing  for  me  to  do  when  they  come  home  by 
way  of  acknowledging  the  cards  sent  me  ?  I  suppose  I  must  send  my 
card  ;  didn't  you  say  so  ? 

John  Taylor  will  probably  discover  that  he  too  wants  a  wife  when  he 
gets  to  Ropely  ;  the  opposite  hill  will  form  a  convenient  prospect  But 
I  will  say  no  more;  you  know  I  disapprove  jesting  and  teasing  on  these 
matters.  Idle  words  sometimes  do  unintentional  harm. 

I  have  had  a  letter  from  Mary  lately;  she  is  well,  happy,  and  pros- 
perous —  her  shop  thriving,  herself  content.  I  am  glad  of  this.  Good- 
bye,  dear  Nell.  God  bless  you  !  C.  BRONTE, 

Papa  continues  much  better. 

Letter  3 

TO  CATHERINE  WINKWORTH 


,  1854. 

DEAR  KATIE,  —  It  was  at  a  little  wild  spot  on  the  south-west  coast  of 
Ireland  that  your  letter  reached  me.  I  did  not  at  first  recognise  the  hand- 
writing, and  when  I  saw  the  signature  and  afterwards  read  the  full  and 
interesting  communication,  I  was  touched;  —  you  are  very  good,  Katie, 
very  thoughtful  for  others. 

Yes  !  I  am  married.  A  month  ago  this  very  day  (July  27th)  I  changed 
my  name.  The  same  day  we  went  to  Conway  ;  stayed  a  few  days  in 
Wales  ;  then  crossed  from  Holyhead  to  Dublin.  After  a  short  sojourn  in 
the  capital  we  went  to  the  coast.  Such  a  wild  rock-bound  coast  :  with 
such  an  ocean  view  as  I  had  not  yet  seen,  and  such  battling  of  waves  with 
rocks  as  I  had  never  imagined  ! 

My  husband  is  not  a  poet  or  a  poetical  man,  and  one  of  my  grand 
doubts  before  marriage  was  about  'congenial  tastes'  and  so  on.  The 
first  morning  we  went  out  on  to  the  cliffs  and  saw  the  Atlantic  coming  in, 
all  white  foam,  I  did  not  know  whether  I  should  get  leave  or  time  to  take 


446  THE  BRONTfiS 

the  matter  in  my  own  way.  I  did  not  want  to  talk,  but  I  did  want  to 
look  and  be  silent.  Having  hinted  a  petition,  licence  was  not  refused  \ 
covered  with  a  rug  to  keep  off  the  spray,  I  was  allowed  to  sit  where  I 
chose,  and  he  only  interrupted  me  when  he  thought  I  crept  too  near  the 
edge  of  the  cliff.  So  far,  he  is  always  good  in  this  way,  and  this  protec- 
tion which  does  not  interfere  or  pretend,  is,  I  believe,  a  thousand  times 
better  than  any  half  sort  of  pseudo-sympathy.  I  will  try  with  God's  help 
to  be  as  indulgent  to  him  whenever  indulgence  is  needed. 

We  have  been  to  Killarney,  I  will  not  describe  it  a  bit.  We  saw  and 
went  through  the  Gap  of  Dunloe.  A  sudden  glimpse  of  a  very  grim 
phantom  came  on  us  in  the  Gap.  The  guide  had  warned  me  to  alight 
from  my  horse,  as  the  path  was  now  very  broken  and  dangerous ;  I  did 
not  feel  afraid  and  declined.  We  passed  the  dangerous  part,  the  horse 
trembled  in  every  limb  and  slipped  once,  but  did  not  fall.  Soon  after, 
she  started  and  was  unruly  for  a  minute;  however  I  kept  my  seat,  rr>y 
husband  went  to  her  head  and  led  her.  Suddenly,  without  any  apparent 
cause,  she  seemed  to  go  mad — reared,  plunged; — I  was  thrown  on  the 
stones  right  under  her.  My  husband  did  not  see  that  I  had  fallen — he 
still  held  on:  I  saw  and  felt  her  kick,  plunge,  trample  round  me.  I 
had  my  thoughts  about  the  moment — its  consequences,  my  husband,  my 
father.  When  my  plight  was  seen,  the  struggling  creature  was  let  loose, 
and  she  sprang  over  me.  I  was  lifted  off  the  stones,  neither  bruised  by 
the  fall  nor  touched  by  the  mare's  hoofs !  Of  course  the  only  feeling  left 
was  gratitude  for  more  sakes  than  my  own, 

I  go  home  soon;  good-bye,  dear  Katie.  I  direct  this  to  Plymouth 
Grove,  not  being  sure  of  your  address. 

C.  B.  NICHQLLS* 

Letter  4 

TO  MRS.  GASKELL 

HAWORTH,  September  30^,  '54, 

DEAR  MRS.  GASKELL, — We  all  know  that  it  is  not  precisely  advanta- 
geous to  a  really  good  book  to  be  published  piecemeal  in  a  periodical,  but 
still,  such  a  plan  has  its  good  side.  North  and  South  will  thus  be  seen 
by  many  into  whose  hands  it  would  not  otherwise  fall.  What  has  appeared 
I  like  well,  and  better  and  better  each  fresh  number;  best  of  all  the  last 
(to-day's).  The  subject  seems  to  me  difficult ;  at  first,  I  groaned  over  it 
If  you  had  any  narrowness  of  views  or  bitterness  of  feeling  towards  the 
Church  or  her  Clergy,  I  should  groan  over  it  still ;  but  I  think  I  see  the 
ground  you  are  about  to  take  as  far  as  the  Church  is  concerned ;  not  that 
of  attack  on  her,  but  of  defence  of  those  who  conscientiously  differ  from 
her,  and  feel  it  a  duty  to  leave  her  fold.  Well,  it  is  good  ground,  but  still 
rugged  for  the  step  of  Fiction;  stony,  thorny  will  it  prove  at  times,  I  fear. 
It  seems  to  me  you  understand  well  the  genius  of  the  North.  Where  the 
Southern  Lady  and  the  Northern  Mechanic  are  brought  into  contrast  and 
contact,  I  think  Nature  is  well  respected,  Simple,  true  and  good  did  I 
think  the  last  number,  clear  of  artificial  trammels  of  style  and  thought. 

CB, 


APPENDIX  VIII  447 


APPENDIX    VIII 

MR.  A.  B.  NICHOLLS  AND  MR.  CARUS  WILSON 

From  '  Halifax  Guardian,  May  23^,  1857 

VINDICATION  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 

ALTHOUGH  we  did  not  insert  the  letters  to  which  the  following  refers 
(having  confidence  that  the  late  eminent  writer,  whose  memory  they 
sought  to  darken,  was  not  the  woman  to  pen  what  she  knew  to  be  untrue), 
we  willingly  give  insertion  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Nicholls's  vindication  of  his  lost 
wife's  character,  which,  dear  as  it  will  be  to  him  must  also  be  dear  to  all 
the  readers  of  her  wonderful  works ; — 

To  the  Editors  of  the  'Leeds  Mercury? 

GENTLEMEN, — On  Saturday  last  you  published,  by  request  of  Mr.  W. 
W.  Carus  Wilson,  an  extract  from  a  review,  containing,  he  says,  *  a  com- 
plete answer  to  the  statements  regarding  his  father's  charitable  institu- 
tions.' 

The  statements  referred  to  are,  I  presume,  the  following: — That  the 
unhealthy  situation  of  Cowan  Bridge,  unwholesome  food,  and  exposure  to 
cold,  etc.,  enfeebled  the  girls,  and  predisposed  them  to  disease ;  that  fever 
broke  out  among  them ;  that  about  forty  of  them  suffered  from  it ;  that 
the  surgeon,  who  was  called  in,  condemned  the  girls'  daily  food  by  the 
expressive  action  of  spitting  out  a  portion  of  it,  which  he  had  taken  in 
order  to  taste  it ;  that  the  school  was  removed  to  a  new  situation,  and  a 
committee  of  management  appointed. 

Now  let  us  examine  the  *  complete  answer,'  and  see  how  these  charges 
are  disposed  of.  And  first,  the  reviewer  assumes  that  these  statements 
rest  solely  on  the  testimony  '  of  one  who,  when  but  a  child  of  nine,  left 
the  establishment ' ;  a  reference,  however,  to  the  Life  of  Charlotte  Bronte 
will  show  that  this  is  a  false  assumption.  He  praises  the  situation  of  the 
school,  <  on  Mr.  Carus  Wilson's  property,  half  a  mile  from  Casterton 
Hall,  high  and  healthy7;  but  he  has  not  the  candour  to  state  that  this 
description  applies  to  the  present  site,  and  not  to  that  referred  to  in  'Jane 
Eyre: 

He  eulogises  Mr.  Wilson's  liberality,  but  omits  to  state  that  funds  are 
raised  from  the  public  for  the  support  of  the  establishment  which  Mr.  W. 
W.  Carus  Wilson  modestly  calls  his  'father's  charitable  institutions/ 

He  makes  no  mention  whatever  of  the  condemnation  of  the  girls'  daily 


448  THE  BRONTES 

food  by  the  medical  man,  of  the  fever  which  scourged  the  school,  and  the 
consequent  change  of  site  and  reformation  of  the  establishment. 

But  surely  the  former  superintendent,  4  whose  able  letter  appeared  in  a 
review,'  will  supply  the  gentleman's  omissions,  and  in  her  4  long  and  com- 
plete answer  to  the  assertions  in  Jane  EyrtJ  make  some  reference  to 
this  eventful  period  in  the  existence  of  'The  Clergy  Daughters'  School.' 
She  does  no  such  thing ;  at  least  as  quoted  in  the  review.  She  eulogises 
Mr.  Wilson ;  asseverates  her  own  impartiality ;  refers  to  her  apostasy  from 
her  church  and  expatriation  from  her  country ;  makes  a  somewhat 
erroneous  statement  respecting  Mr.  Bronte's  family  \  hazards  some  con- 
jectures about  the  intentions  of  the  author  si  Jane  Eyre\  and  lays  before 
us  a  bill  of  fare  at  Cowan  Bridge — 'Meat,  vegetables,  and  puddings, 
daily  in  abundance.'  Very  good,  madam !  But  what  about  the  cooking 
that  spoiled  these  provisions,  boiled  the  puddings  in  unclean  water, 
compounded  the  Saturday's  nauseous  mess  from  the  fragments  accumu- 
lated in  a  dirty  larder  during  the  week,  and  too  often  sent  up  the  porridge, 
not  merely  burnt,  but  with  offensive  fragments  of  other  substances  dis- 
coverable in  it? 

The  Reviewer  says:  'The  whole  of  this  letter  Mrs.  Gaskell  must  have 
seen,  as  she  quotes  one  sentence  out  of  it  word  for  word.'  Whether  Mrs. 
Gaskell  has  seen  this  letter,  I  do  not  know  •  but  if  the  Reviewer  will  refer 
to  the  Zz/e,  vol.  i.  page  78,  he  will  find  that  Mrs.  Gaskell  quotes  from  a 
letter  which  she  had  herself  received  from  the  same  lady,  who  evidently, 
in  both  instances,  used  the  same  form  of  expression — identical,  however, 
in  only  three  words,  'bright,  clever,  happy3 — in  reference  to  the  same 
child.  May  I  not  justly  retort  the  charge  of  disingenuousness  on  the 
Reviewer,  who  must  have  known  this  when  he  charged  Mrs.  Gaskell  with 
making  a  garbled  quotation. 

Jane  Eyre  was  published  in  1847  ;  Lowood  was  almost  immediately 
identified  with  Cowan  Bridge,  yet  'the  lady,  who  was  superintendent  in 
1824,'  was  discreetly  silent  for  more  than  seven  years,  in  fact  until  the 
author  was  laid  in  her  grave.  So  were  Mr.  W.  W.  Carus  Wilson  and  the 
Reviewer,  for  aught  I  know.  Their  present  proceedings  are  merely  an 
illustration  of  a  very  old  fable. 

To  the  day  of  her  death  '  Currer  Bell7  maintained  that  the  picture  drawn 
in.  Jane  Eyre  was  on  the  whole  a  true  picture  of  Cowan  Bridge  School,  as 
she  knew  it  by  experience :  that  the  institution  was  subsequently  greatly 
improved  she  knew  and  stated  in  the  same  work  in  which  she  exposed  its 
former  mismanagement. 

I  am  told  that  the  Reviewer,  referred  to  in  this  letter,  has  with  exyufstfe 
taste  and  great  chanty  alluded  to  the  closing  hours  of  my  wife's  life, 
describing  them  as  painful.  Painful  indeed  they  were,  but  not  in  his 
sense  of  the  term.  On  this  subject  I  would  say  to  him,  'Who  art  thou 
that  judgest  another?  Judge  not  that  ye  be  not  judged.  First  cast  out 
the  beam  out  of  thine  own  eye  •  and  then  shalt  thou  see  clearly  to  pull 
out  the  mote  that  is  in  thy  brother's  eye.' 

Trusting  to  your  sense  of  justice  to  give  this  letter  a  place  in  your 
Saturday's  impression,  I  am,  gentlemen,  your  obedient  servant, 

A.  B,  NlCHOLLS, 

.   HAWORTH  PARSONAGE,  May  zoth,  1857, 


APPENDIX  VIII  449 

From  '  Halifax  Guardian?  June  6th,  1857 

CHARLOTTE  BRONTE 
To  the  Editor  of  the  'Halifax  Guardian? 

SIR, — I  was  aware  that  the  Reviewer  had  expressed  the  wish,  referred 
to  by  Mr.  W.  Cams  Wilson,  and  I  now  see  that,  while  inserting  all  that 
was  favourable  to  the  management  of  the  school,  the  writer  carefully 
omitted  whatever  told  against  it. 

Let  me,  however,  thank  Mr.  Wilson  for  his  last  letter.  In  his  former 
statement  all  was  perfection  at  Cowan  Bridge,  now  we  have  the  following 
points  admitted;  That  c during  the  spring  of  1825  there  prevailed  a  low 
fever,  though  not  an  alarming  one'  (what  would  alarm  Mr.  W.  if  the 
illness  of  about  forty  girls  failed  to  do  so?);  that  'the  doctor  rather 
scornfully '  condemned  the  girls'  food ;  that  '  thoughtless  servants  spoiled 
it'  •  that  there  were  '  privations ' ;  that  the  schools  were  removed  to  a  new 
site — from  what  cause  Mr.  Wilson  does  not  say. 

But  mark  how  easily  Mr.  Wilson  disposes  of  adverse  testimony;  'if 
there  are  any  besides  (C.  Bronte),  perhaps  a  dismissed  pupil  or  teacher.' 

Now  even  at  the  risk  of  incurring  such  a  summary  dismissal  I  cannot 
forbear  giving  him  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  which  I  have 
received  from  a  former  pupil  at  Cowan  Bridge : — 

'On  first  reading  Jane  Eyre  several  years  ago  I  recognised  immediately 
the  picture  there  drawn,  and  was  far  from  considering  it  any  way  exagger- 
ated ;  in  fact,  I  thought  at  the  time,  and  still  think  the  matter  rather 
understated  than  otherwise.  I  suffered  so  severely  from  the  treatment 
that  I  was  never  in  the  schoolroom  during  the  last  three  months  I  was 
there,  until  about  a  week  before  I  left,  and  was  considered  to  be  far  gone 
in  consumption.  My  mother  (whose  only  child  I  was)  was  never  in- 
formed of  my  illness,  and  I  might  certainly  have  died  there  without  her 
being  informed  of  it,  had  not  a  severe  illness  of  her  own  caused  her 
hastily  to  summon  me  home.  She  was  so  much  shocked  at  my  appear- 
ance that  she  refused  to  allow  rne  to  return,  though  pressed  to  do  so. 
...  I  attribute  my  illness  to  the  unhealthy  situation  of  the  school,  the 
long  walks  to  church  in  bad  weather  (for  in  winter  our  feet  were  often 
wet  during  the  whole  of  the  service),  and  the  scanty  and  ill-prepared 
food*  .  .  .  The  housekeeper  was  very  dirty  with  the  cooking.  I  have 
frequently  seen  grease  swimming  on  the  milk  and  water  we  had  for  break- 
fast, in  consequence  of  its  having  been  boiled  in  a  greasy  copper,  and  I 
perfectly  remember  once  being  sent  for  a  cup  of  tea  for  a  teacher,  who 
was  ill  in  bed,  and  no  spoon  being  at  hand,  the  housekeeper  stirred  it 
with  her  finger,  she  being  engaged  in  cutting  up  raw  meat  at  the  time.  I 
could  give  you  scores  of  such  instances  as  these  which  fell  under  my 
own  observation.  Our  food  was  almost  always  badly  cooked,  and  besides 
that  we  certainly  had  not  enough  of  it,  whatever  may  be  said  to  the  con- 
trary. ...  In  a  word,  the  system  at  Cowan  Bridge  was  a  very  harsh  one, 
and  I  was  very  glad  to  hear  that  an  improvement  took  place  after  the 
school  was  removed  to  Casterton,  for  it  was  much  needed.  I  had  no 

VOL,  II.  2  F 


450  THE  BRONTES 

knowledge  whatever  of  Mrs.  Nicholls  personally,  therefore  my  statement 
may  fairly  be  considered  an  impartial  one,  You  are  quite  welcome  to 
make  what  use  you  think  proper  of  this  letter.' 

If  Mr.  Wilson's  friends  had  confined  themselves  to  a  legitimate  review 
of  Mrs.  Gaskell's  work  I  should  never  have  written  a  line  on  this  subject, 
but  when  they  attacked  the  dead,  and  adopted  the  questionable  course 
of  disseminating  their  vile  slander  anonymously  through  the  post-office 
(actually  sending  a  copy  to  Mr.  Bronte),  I  should  indeed  have  been  in- 
excusable had  I  allowed  their  assertions  to  pass  unchallenged. 

Mr.  W.  W.  Carus  Wilson  published  a  refutation  (as  he  called  it)  of  the 
assertions  in  Jane  Eyre.  I  pointed  out  that  it  was  nothing  of  the  sort. 
His  subsequent  admissions,  with  the  testimony  I  have  furnished  in  this 
letter,  more  than  justify  all  that  was  said  in  that  work  respecting  the 
management  of  Cowan  Bridge  School,  To  bandy  further  arguments  with 
Mr.  Wilson  I  have  neither  time  nor  inclination  ',  besides  I  am  quite  sure 
you  and  your  readers  would  soon  be  as  tired  of  us  and  our  discussions 
as  the  poor  girls  were  of  their  burnt  porridge  with  '  mixture  as  before.'  — 
Apologising  for  again  trespassing  on  your  space,  I  am,  sir,  your  obedient 
servant,  A.  B.  NICHOLLS. 

HA.WORTH  PARSON  AGE,  June  yd,  1857. 


.  —  Will  Mr.  Wilson  give  the  maiden  name  of  the  superintendent 
who  '  married  the  head  of  a  college  in  America'?  For,  if  she  is,  as  I 
suspect,  most  intimately  acquainted  with  the  4Miss  Scratcherd'  of  Jane 
Eyre^  there  is  strong  reason  why  she  should  wish  to  disparage  the  testi- 
mony of  the  avenging  sister  of  'Helen  Burns'  (Maria  Bronte),  who  was 
so  cruelly  treated  by  that  amiable  lady. 


From  *  Halifax  Guardian?  June  I3//&,  1857 

'JANE  EYRE'  AND  THE  COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 

To  the  Editor  of  the  { 'Halifax  Guardian? 

SIR, — My  attention  has  been  called  to  two  letters  recently  published 
in  your  paper,  purporting  to  be  rejoinders  to  the  replies  of  Mr.  Wilson 
to  the  assailants  of  Casterton  School,  and  its  venerable  and  excellent 
founder. 

If,  as  I  have  been  informed,  the  letters  of  Mr.  Wilson  did  not  appear 
in  your  columns,  I  question  the  justice  and  impartiality  of  allowing  the 
letters  of  Mr.  Nicholls  to  appear  there.  Many  of  your  readers  see  no 
other  paper,  and  how,  I  ask,  could  they  come  to  a  just  conclusion  by 
perusing  the  statements  of  one  party  only,  on  the  points  at  issue? 

It  gives  me  inexpressible  pain  to  see  the  repeated  attempts  made,  by 
the  distortion  and  exaggeration  of  facts,  and  what  looks  very  like  wilful 
misrepresentations  of  character,  to  disparage  a  valuable  institution,  and  to 
cast  odium  upon  a  venerated  minister  of  our  church,  who  has  spent  his 


APPENDIX  VIII  451 

best  days  in  energetic  labours  in  his  Master's  cause,  and  for  the  benefit  of 
the  families  of  his  poorer  brethren  in  the  ministry. 

As  an  old  pupil,  both  of  the  school  at  Cowan  Bridge,  and  at  Casterton, 
I  claim  to  be  heard. 

Charlotte  Bronte  was,  if  I  have  been  correctly  informed,  a  pupil  at 
Cowan  Bridge  about  nine  months.  I  was  a  pupil  there  for  two  years ; 
•and  subsequently  at  Casterton  for  more  than  seven  years;  thus  my 
residence  extended  over  a  period  of  more  than  nine  years.  You  will 
-allow,  therefore,  that  I  had  more  ample  opportunities  of  forming  a 
judgment  as  to  the  real  character  and  management  of  that  institution 
than  Charlotte  Bronte,  and  though  I  do  not  appear  in  the  attractive 
•character  of  a  novelist,  yet,  as  a  clergyman's  wife,  I  trust  that  my 
statements  may  be  considered  as  worthy  of  credit  as  those  of  Charlotte 
Bronte,  her  biographer,  or  her  reviewers. 

I  was  one  of  the  victims  of  that  visitation  of  fever  at  Cowan  Bridge, 
about  which  so  much  has  been  said,  and  to  this  hour  I  have  a  vivid 
recollection  of  the  motherly  care  and  attention  I  received,  and  the  tender 
solicitude  shown  towards  me  on  that  trying  occasion.  Nor  have  I  the 
slightest  reason  to  think  that  I  was  treated  better  than  my  fellow-pupils. 
Nor  do  I  for  a  moment  believe  that  the  fever  took  its  rise  from  the 
quantity  or  quality  of  the  food  provided,  but  was  introduced  to  the  school 
from  the  village,  or  by  a  pupil  returning  to  the  school. 

As  to  the  extract  from  the  letter  of  a  correspondent  of  Mr.  Nicholls 
{whose  name  for  reasons  best  known  to  himself  he  withholds),  you  will 
please  to  put  my  humble  testimony  in  opposition  to  it.  I  solemnly 
affirm  that  our  food  was  uniformly  abundant,  good,  and  generally  well 
•cooked ;  but  no  reasonable  person  could  expect  that  in  a  large  establish- 
ment like  that,  any  more  than  in  a  private  family,  a  failure  in  cooking 
should  not  sometimes  happen. 

And  as  to  the  pupils  walking  to  the  church  in  wet  weather,  and  sitting 
the  whole  time  of  service  with  wet  and  cold  feet,  I  do  not  say  this  never 
•occurred ;  but  this  I  do  say,  that  it  was  the  usual  practice  for  the  pupils 
not  to  go  to  church  in  wet  weather,  but  to  have  prayers  and  a  sermon  at 
the  school ;  so  that  this  occurrence  must  have  been  rare  indeed. 

I  may  add  that  I  have  four  sisters  who  have  been  at  the  same  school, 
•one  of  them  at  Cowan  Bridge,  and  the  other  three  at  Casterton;  and 
.after  a  lengthened  pupillage  there,  in  two  of  those  cases  of  upwards  of 
nine  years,  they  are  unanimous  in  their  testimony  to  the  general  excel- 
lence of  the  institution  and  its  management,  and  we  feel  it  difficult  to 
repress  our  indignation  at  the  unjustifiable  attack  made  upon  it  and  its 
founder.  And  as  the  best  proof  of  my  regard  for,  and  confidence  in  the 
institution,  I  am  now  preparing  to  send  two  of  my  own  dear  little  girls 
there. 

I  ought  perhaps  to  apologise  for  thus  asking  for  space  in  your  paper 
for  the  insertion  of  this  letter,  but  I  believe  the  public  will  not  be 
unwilling  to  hear  both  sides  of  the  question,  so  that  they  may  be  better 
able  to  arrive  at  a  just  conclusion.  And  I  have  a  conviction  also,  that 
the  cause  of  justice  and  truth  will  weigh  more  powerfully  with  you  than 
the  consideration  of  a  little  space  in  your  paper. 

I  do  not  think,  tenderly  as  we  would  deal  with  the  memory  of  the 


452  THE  BRONTES 

dead,  that  we  ought  to  hesitate  to  rectify  the  errors  they  may  have  fallen 
into  while  living,  in  cases  where  the  sacred  interests  of  truth  are  involved  ; 
or  to  repel  the  darts  they  may  have  aimed,  in  their  productions,  at  the 
characters  of  the  living,  especially  those  whose  lives  have  been  spent  in 
diffusing  benefits  widely  around  them. 

The  character  of  the  founder  of  that  institution  has  been  cruelly  and 
falsely  assailed,  as  all  who  know  him  will  readily  admit;  but  he  will 
think  it  no  dishonour  *  to  suffer  for  righteousness'  sake.' 

It  would  be  almost  too  much  to  expect  that  no  injury  should  be 
sustained  by  the  institution  from  the  repeated  attacks  made  upon  it  with 
such  perverse  energy ;  most  thankful  therefore  should  I  be  could  I  enlist 
the  sympathies  of  the  wealthy  in  this  locality  in  its  behalf,  and  add  to  the 
number  of  its  subscribers.  I  know  no  institution  that  has  a  stronger 
claim  to  the  sympathies  and  support  of  the  Christian  Church. 

Trusting  to  your  sense  of  justice  and  impartiality  to  insert  this  in  your 
next  publication, — I  remain,  sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

SARAH  BALDWIN. 

MYTHOLMROYD  PARSONAGE,  NEAR  HALIFAX,  Jun&  gth,  1857. 


From  'Halifax  Guardian'  July  4^/2,  1857 

6 JANE  EYRE'  AND  COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 

To  the  Editor  of  the  'Halifax  Guardian: 

SIR, — On  returning  home  after  a  short  absence  I  have  had  my  atten- 
tion called  to  a  letter  which  appeared  with  the  above  heading  in  your 
paper  of  the  i3th  instant.  On  this  letter,  with  your  permission,  I  shall 
now  make  a  few  remarks. 

The  writer,  after  indulging  in  a  little  characteristic  scolding,  very 
unnecessarily  informs  your  readers  that  she  does  not  possess  the  attrac- 
tions of  a  novelist ;  as  a  compensation,  however,  for  this  deficiency,  she 
announces  that  she  is  a  clergyman's  wife,  and  therefore  worthy  of  credit. 
Rare  logic  1  According  to  which  truth  must  be  hereditary,  owing,  more- 
over, somewhat  of  its  force  to  connection, 

Mrs.  Baldwin  says  that  she  has  'had  more  ample  opportunities  of 
forming  a  judgment  on  the  management  of  Cowan  Bridge  School  than 
Charlotte  Bronte.'  Now,  Charlotte  Bronte  described  the  institution  as 
she  found  it.  Mrs.  Baldwin  was  not  there  at  the  time,  consequently  she 
cannot  personally  know  whether  the  statements  in  Jane  Eyre  are  true  or 
false.  Hear  the  testimony  of  a  lady  who  was  at  the  school  with  Miss 
Bronte : — *  I  would  rather  see  a  child  of  mine  in  its  grave  than  subjected 
to  the  treatment  I  endured,  and  which  I  shall  never  forget.' 

Mrs.  Baldwin  further  states  that  'the  food  was  uniformly  abundant 
and  good';  and  yet  Mr.  Shepheard,  the  chaplain,  admits  that  there  were 
grounds  for  complaint  on  this  head ;  and  a  surgeon,  still  living  in  Kirby 
Lonsdale,  having  tasted  it,  pronounced  it  'unfit  for  pigs/  *to  our  great 
delight,'  writes  an  eye-witness. 


APPENDIX  VIII  453 

Mrs.  Baldwin,  after  informing  us  that  she  is  '  preparing  to  send  two  of 
her  own  dear  little  girls'  (a  first  instalment,  I  presume)  to  'the  charitable 
institution '  already  so  liberally  patronised  by  her  family,  proceeds  to  do  a 
little  congenial  business,  and  with  exquisite  taste  presents  a  begging  box 
to  the  Halifax  gentry.  Surely  such  a  graceful  and  disinterested  appeal 
cannot  be  made  in  vain. 

Mrs.  Baldwin,  evidently  a  stranger  to  that  delicacy  of  feeling  which 
causes  a  lady  to  shrink  from  having  her  name  paraded  before  the  public, 
complains  that  I  have  withheld  the  name  of  my  correspondent,  whose 
letter  I  quoted  in  replying  to  Mr.  W.  W,  C.  Wilson,  If  Mrs.  Baldwin 
will  condescend  to  give  me  a  call,  her  curiosity  shall  be  gratified,  as  I  have 
permission  to  show  the  lady's  card  to  any  one  I  choose. 

With  many  thanks  for  your  great  kindness,  and  a  sincere  hope  that  I 
shall  not  have  again  to  recur  to  this  painful  subject,— I  am,  sir,  your 
obliged  and  obedient  servant,  •  A.  B.  NICHOLLS. 

HAWORTH  PARSONAGE,  Junt  so//;,  1857. 


From  <  Halifax  Guardian,' July  nth,  1857 

'JANE  EYRE'  AND  THE  COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 

To  the  Editor  of  the  'Halifax  Guardian? 

SIR,— I  trust  you  will  allow  me  the  opportunity  of  making  a  few 
observations  on  the  letter  of  Mr.  Nicholls  in  your  paper  of  the  4th  of 
July,  in  which  he  attempts  to  reply  to  a  letter  of  mine  in  your  paper  of 
the  1 3th  of  June. 

Mr.  Nicholls's  letter  is  written  in  a  style  so  coarse  and  unusual  among 
educated  people,  that  it  is  quite  undeserving  of  notice,  and  would  have 
been  allowed  to  pass  at  once  into  oblivion,  but  for  one  or  two  mis- 
statements  it  contains.  The  production  is  little  else  than  a  scornful  sneer 
throughout.  A  sneer  is  a  kind  of  argument  which,  while  it  is  the  easiest, 
is  also  the  weakest  and  worst  that  can  be  employed,  and  is  never  resorted 
to  when  any  other  is  available. 

A  gentleman  who  undertakes  to  lecture  others  upon  logical  accuracy, 
•should  be  careful  that  his  own  statements  be  unimpeachable  on  this 
ground;  but  it  is  not  so  in  this  case.  He  intimates  that  because  I  was 
not  at  the  school  at  the  identical  time  with  Charlotte  Bronte,  there- 
fore I  cannot  know  whether  the  statements  iajane  Eyre  be  true  or  false. 
Is  there  no  fallacy  here?  Can  he  seriously  mean  that  our  knowledge  of 
Any  subject  is  limited  by  the  range  of  our  personal  observation  ?  If  so, 
let  me  ask,  what  is  the  extent  of  his  acquaintance  with  the  subject  in 
dispute,  about  which  he  writes  with  such  boldness,  and  in  so  peculiar  a 
style?  I  do  not  pretend  to  know  by  personal  observation  whether  all 
these  statements  are  true  or  not ;  but  I  have  very  satisfactory  evidence,  of 
a  personal  nature  and  of  other  kinds,  that  they  are  not ;  and  especially 
so  to  Mr.  Wilson,  the  accusations  against  whom,  and  the  misrepresenta- 
tions of  whose  character  are,  to  my  mind,  the  gravest  part  of  the  whole 


454  THE  BRONTES 

question.  I  think  I  may  be  allowed  to  speak  with  some  confidence,, 
because  for  nearly  ten  years  I  knew  him  intimatelv,  and  had  full  oppor- 
tunity of  observing  his  religious  character,  his  temper,  disposition,  and 
general  treatment  of  the  pupils ;  and  it  was  such  as  to  produce  in  me, 
and  in  the  good  majority  of  them,  feelings  of  unaffected  love  and  venera- 
tion. This  testimony  is  founded  upon  nearly  ten  years'  experience. 
Charlotte  Bronte  speaks  only  from  personal  observation  and  experience, 
extending  over  a  period  of  nine  months  and  when  she  was  a  mere  child, 
a  little  more  than  nine  years  old.  I  went  to  the  school  at  Cowan  Bridge 
about  a  year  after  she  left,  when,  I  believe,  the  state  of  things  was  much 
as  during  her  stay  there.  I  continued  there  until  its  removal  to  Casterton, 
and  remained  there  some  years.  The  result  of  my  observation  and 
experience  I  have  already  given,  and  am  ready  to  confirm  it  in  the  fullest 
manner. 

With  your  permission,  I  will  now  give  the  testimony  of  one  of  the  first 
pupils  at  Cowan  Bridge.  £  As  a  pupil  at  Cowan  Bridge  in  its  first  days,  I 
feel  it  a  privilege  to  be  able  to  bear  testimony  in  direct  opposition  to  Miss 
Bronte.  I  could  mention  many  interesting  little  incidents  corroborative 
of  my  opposite  testimony,  calculated  to  account  for  the  affectionate  feeling, 
with  which  I  myself,  and  my  fellow-pupils,  regarded  the  kind  Carus 
Wilson  family.  I  have  not  read/aw  Eyre,  for  I  felt  it  a  waste  of  time  to 
read  tales  founded  on  falsehoods ;  but  when  I  have  heard  remarks  made 
upon  it,  and  now  on  the  Memoir -,  it  has  afforded  me  satisfaction  to  refute  the 
ungrateful  slander  cast  on  Mr.  Wilson,  and  to  bear  my  testimony  to  the 
practical  consistency  of  his  character,  which,  with  me,  gave  weight  to  all 
his  religious  instructions.  My  annual  subscription  for  many  years  to  the 
school  betokens  my  interest  in  it ;  and  I  now  send  a  little  donation  as  a 
further  proof  of  my  regard  for  him  and  it.7 

This  is  one  of  more  than   three  hundred    letters  that    have   been 
received  by  Mr.  W.  W.  C.  Wilson  within  the  last  few  weeks,  almost  all 
grieving  over  the  assertions   made  in  Jane  Eyre  and  in  the   Life  of 
Charlotte  Bronte,  which  crush  entirely  any  testimony  that  can  be  pro- 
duced to  the  contrary. 

In  the  Life  of  Charlotte  Bronte,  vol.  i.  p.  79,  Mellany  Hane  is  spoken 
of  as  a  great  friend  of  Charlotte  Bronte.  She  is  now  abroad ;  but  her 
brother,  the  incumbent  of  Sydenham,  and  his  wife,  write  to  say,  that 
they  '  never  heard  her  speak  otherwise  than  in  the  highest  terms  of  the 
school,  and  of  Mr.  Wilson.'  This  young  lady  I  knew  at  school,  and  never 
on  any  occasion  did  I  hear  from  her  even  a  whisper  of  the  occurrences, 
narrated  in  Jane  Eyre  as  having  taken  place  at  Cowan  Bridge. 

The  'Miss  Temple*  of  Jane  Eyre  is  exhibited  in  a  most  favourable 
light  by  Charlotte  Bronte  herself,  and  is  spoken  of  in  highly  eulogistic 
terms  by  the  authoress  of  the  Life  of  Charlotte  Bront'e.  The  following 
is  from  a  clergyman,  the  husband  of  the  lady  who  is  represented  under 
the  name  of  Miss  Temple,  and  who  died  only  last  year.  *  Often/  he  says, 
c  have  I  heard  my  late  dear  wife  speak  of  her  sojourn  at  Cowan  Bridge, 
I  never  heard  her  speak  otherwise  than  in  terms  of  admiration  at 
Mr.  Carus  Wilson's  personal  sacrifices,  and  of  the  parental  affection  he- 
manifested  towards  the  pupils.  Of  the  food  and  treatment  of  the 
children  she  always  spoke  in  terms  of  general  approval  I  have  beard 


APPENDIX  VIII  455* 

her  allude  to  some  unfortunate  cook,  who  used  at  times  to  spoil  the  food, 
but  she  said  she  was  soon  dismissed.'  This  testimony  from  such  a 
quarter  is  strong  indeed. 

Mr.  Nicholls  endeavours  to  point  out  a  discrepancy  between  Mr. 
Shepheard's  admission  and  my  statement  relative  to  the  food ;  here  he  is 
again  unfortunate  and  unsuccessful.  I  said,  'the  food  was  uniformly 
abundant  and  good,'  and  he  asserts  that  Mr,  Shepheard  admits  that  there 
was  ground  for  complaint  on  this  head.  He  admits  that  the  ground  of 
complaint  was  an  occasional  failure  in  the  cooking,  and  nothing  more ; 
which  nobody  wishes  to  deny, 

The  statement  of  Mr,  Nicholls  relating  to  the  surgeon  is  suspicious, 
and  otherwise  worthless  as  evidence.  It  has  been  denied  that  the 
surgeon  acted  in  the  manner  stated ;  if  he  did,  and  rejected  the  food  with 
the  remark  he  is  said  to  have  made,  he  did  it  in  his  usual  off-hand,  quick, 
and  somewhat  thoughtless  manner ;  and  having  been  a  patient  of  his,  I 
well  understand  what  degree  of  importance  to  attach  to  such  an  occurrence, 
if,  indeed,  it  took  place  at  all. 

Mr.  Nicholls,  with  singular  politeness,  goes  on  to  say,  that  'Mrs. 
Baldwin  is  evidently  a  stranger  to  that  delicacy  of  feeling  which  causes 
a  lady  to  shrink  from  having  her  name  paraded  before  the  public.7  I 
cheerfully  leave  it  to  your  readers,  and  to  those  who  have  considered  Mr. 
Nicholls's  letter,  to  decide  where  the  lack  of  delicacy  of  feeling  exists.  I 
affixed  my  name  to  my  letter  to  show  that  I  wrote  in  good  faith,  and  that 
I  was  willing  to  substantiate  what  I  had  said.  Anonymous  communica- 
tions are  generally  open  to  suspicion.  I  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  my  letter  has  not  been  without  effect  in  quarters  where  an  anonymous 
communication  would  have  been  unnoticed.  And  does  not  this  gentle- 
man see  that  his  censure,  if  I  be  amenable  to  it,  falls  in  quarters  where  it 
must  give  even  himself  pain  ? 

I  have  as  little  inclination  as  Mr.  Nicholls  to  continue  the  corre- 
spondence, especially  as  it  is  conducted  by  himself  in  defiance  of  all  the 
rules  of  courtesy  and  propriety.  Having  borne  my  humble,  but  most 
conscientious,  testimony  in  this  matter  on  the  side  of  truth  and  justice, 
I  am  so  far  satisfied.  With  many  thanks  for  your  kind  indulgence, — 
I  am,  sir,  your  obedient  servant,  SARAH  BALDWIN. 

MYTHOLMROYD  PARSONAGE,  JulyZth,  1857. 


From  'Halifax  Guardian'  July  i&h  1857 

THE  COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 
To  the  Editor  of  the  'Halifax  Guardian? 

SIR,— I  don't  wish  to  make  any  defence  for  Mrs.  Baldwin.  Your 
readers  will,  I  am  sure,  agree  with  me,  that  she  is  quite  able  to  take  care 
of  herself;  neither  do  I  wish  to  notice  the  strain  of  Mr.  Nicholls's  letter, 
at  which  many  have  expressed  to  me  (to  use  the  lightest  term)  their 
astonishment ;  but  I  hope  I  may  now  be  able  to  close  this  controversy  by 


456  THE  BRONTES 

saying,  that  in  a  correspondence  I  have  had  with  Mrs.  Gaskell,  I  have 
found  her  most  willing  to  rectify  the  injury  she  has  done  to  my  father 
and  his  institutions,  and  I  believe  her  third  edition  will  be  a  work  which 
none  can  cavil  at,  but  all  extol 

I  gladly  do  her  justice  in  saying  that  I  am  sure  she  only  desires  to 
elicit  truth.  I  do  think  she  is  more  to  blame  than  C.  Bronte,  for  having 
too  much  endorsed  as  facts  the  exaggerated  fictions  of  Jane  Eyre. 

C.  Bronte's  wonderful  writings  being  but  novels,  we  must  allow  her 
gifted  pen  more  licence. 

I  have  only  met  with  one  remark  of  hers  on  the  subject  that  comes 
before  the  public  otherwise  than  under  the  garb  of  fiction,  and  it  is  cer- 
tainly a  sweeping  statement,  severely  commented  on  by  two  leading 
London  reviews  for  this  month.  It  appears  in  a  letter  from  her  to  a 
friend,  in  the  2nd  vol.  of  Mrs.  Gaskell's  Life,  where  she  says  that  *  fever 
yearly  decimated  the  pupils  at  Cowan  Bridge.'  For  the  whole  thirty-five 
years  the  school  has  been  in  existence  there  have  been  but  two  attacks  of 
fever,  which  carried  off  but  six  pupils. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  statements  of  pupils  who  were  not  at  school 
with  C.  Bronte  are  of  no  avail.  But  I  have  seen  the  testimony  of 
teachers  and  pupils  who  were  with  her,  and  those  who  followed  her,  as 
did  Mrs.  Baldwin  (who  finds  from  her  father  now  that  she  was  at  Cowan 
Bridge  for  a  much  longer  period  than  she  stated  in  her  first  letter),  would 
surely  have  heard  of  the  horrors  depicted  in  Jane  Eyre>  if  they  had  had 
any  reality.  And  as  regards  my  father's  conduct  towards  the  pupils, 
those  at  Casterton,  as  well  as  Cowan  Bridge,  can  give  evidence  about  that 
I  have  the  testimony  of  teachers  and  pupils  who  were  at  the  school  both 
before  and  after  C.  Bronte,  that  white  bread  was  given  to  the  girls,  riot  *  only 
brown/  as  Mr.  Nicholls's  correspondent  tells  us ;  and  to  the  same  infor- 
mant I  have  my  father's  declaration  that  no  '  doctor  drove  over  to  his 
residence  with  a  complaint  about  the  food.' 

As  regards  the  *Miss  Scratcherd,'  several  have  said  she  was  firm,  but 
kind,  and  very  much  liked. 

I  am  ready  to  give  your  readers  the  addresses  of  any  of  my  corre- 
spondents, and  I  only  wish  they  could  read  a  tithe  of  the  letters  I  have 
had  from  old  pupils. 

The  testimony  Mrs.  Baldwin  gives  in  her  last  letter  is  from  Miss  Frizell, 
residing  with  the  Hon.  J.  Tollemache,  M.P.,  Ham  House,  Surrey,  and 
the  *  Miss  Temple's '  husband,  the  Rev.  J.  Connor,  Melton  Mowbray, 

Shortly  after  C.  Bronte  left  Cowan  Bridge,  which  has  been  designated 
as  a  second  Dotheboys'  Hall  (though  now  the  whole  tone  of  the  reviews 
and  magazines  for  this  month  has  been  turned  towards  the  truth,  and  I 
have  seen  more  than  a  dozen),  the  late  Bishop  of  London  visited  the 
school  with  Mrs.  Blanfield,  and  after  an  examination  of  the  classes,  and  a 
careful  inspection  of  the  whole  establishment,  observed  to  my  father, 
that c  if  it  should  please  God  to  deprive  his  daughters  of  their  parents,  ha 
knew  no  institution  where  he  could  more  desire  them  to  be  placed,* 
I  do  trust  that  this  letter  may  close  this  controversy. — Yours, 

W.  W.  CARUS  WILSON- 

WRSTON-SUPER-MARB. 


APPENDIX  VIII  457 


From  '  Halifax  Guardian'  July  iS^Sf,  1857 

*JANE  EYRE'  AND  THE  COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL 

To  the  Editor  of  the  'Halifax  Guardian: 

SIR,  —  I  regret  to  find  that  Mrs.  Baldwin  takes  such  strong  exception  to 
my  last  letter,  but  if  she  indulges  in  charges  of  'distortion  and  exaggera- 
tion of  facts  and  wilful  misrepresentation/  she  must  not  feel  surprised  if 
she  be  answered  in  a  manner  less  gentle  than  one  would  wish  to  use  in 
replying  to  a  lady, 

She  cannot,  it  seems,  perceive  the  fallacy  in  her  argument,  and  yet  it 
is  very  plain.  She  assumes  that  because  the  management  was  good  in 
her  time,  it  must  have  been  so  always.  With  equal  correctness  might 
she  argue  that  because  she  is  now  in  a  position  to  c  send  two  of  her  dear 
little  girls  '  to  '  my  father's  charitable  institution,'  she  has  been  always  in 
a  similar  interesting  situation.  For  the  statements  I  have  made  I  have 
produced  proof.  Mr.  Wilson's  friends  have  not,  that  I  am  aware  of, 
produced  the  testimony  of  a  single  pupil  who  was  at  the  institution  with 
Charlotte  Bronte.  Mr.  W.  W.  Carus  Wilson  has,  indeed,  quoted  a  letter 
written,  he  said,  by  *  the  lady  who  was  superintendent  in  1824,'  but  will  it 
be  believed  that  the  letter  was  not  written  by  Miss  Evans,  the  superin- 
tendent or  principal  teacher,  at  all,  but  by  a  Miss  Andrews  (one  of  the 
characters  in  Jane  Eyre^  and  therefore  an  interested  party),  who,  I  am  told, 
combined  the  office  of  teacher  with  that  of  ''superintendent  of  rooms?  a 
situation,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  somewhat  analogous  to  that  of  an  upper 
housemaid.  And  yet  the  man,  who  acts  thus  disingenuously,  to  use  the 
mildest  term,  accuses  others  of  lying,  slander,  calumny,  etc. 

Mrs.  Baldwin  says  she  went  to  Cowan  Bridge  about  a  year  after  Miss 
Bronte  left  it.  This  can  hardly  be  so,  for  in  that  case  she  must  have 
been  sixteen  years  at  school  instead  of  nine,  as  she  says  herself.  This, 
however,  is  of  little  consequence.  I  merely  wish  to  point  out  the  incon- 
sistency. But  contrast  the  testimony  of  a  lady  who  did  go  to  the  school 
at  that  time. 

The  following  extract  is  from  a  letter  addressed  to  me  by  her  husband, 
a  clergyman  :  —  '  Feeling  interested,  in  common  with  thousands,  in  the 
fame  of  C»  Bronte,  and  indignant  at  the  aspersions  cast  on  her  veracity,  I 
think  it  may  not  be  disagreeable  to  you  to  receive  from  an  independent 
source  a  statement  confirmatory  in  some  respects  of  the  account  of  the 
Clergy  Daughters7  School  given  by  your  late  lamented  wife. 

*My  own  wife  and  one  of  her  sisters  (E.)  were  educated  at  Cowan 
Bridge,  entering  shortly  after  Miss  Bronte  left,  and  remaining  there  five 
years.  At  the  time  of  their  entrance  the  school  was  considered  to  be  in 
a  course  of  progressive  improvement,  and  my  wife  makes  no  complaint  of 
dirt,  but  her  account  of  the  food  supplied  during  the  early  part  of  her 
residence  is  very  unfavourable  in  respect  to  the  quantity  and  quality, 
'The  breakfast  consisted  of  ill-made  porridge,  without  bread.  Many  girls 
from  the  southern  counties,  unused  to  such  food  at  home,  could  not  eat 
it,  and  for  six  months  my  wife  and  her  sister  E.  had  no  breakfast  what- 


458  THE  BRONTES 

ever.  On  one  occasion  it  was  observed  that  E.  was  not  talcing  her 
porridge.  She  was  required  to  eat  it.  Attempting  to  do  so,  her  stomach 
rejected  it,  upon  which  she  was  treated,  not  to  a  meal  of  bread  or  other 
wholesome  food,  but  to  a  strong  dose  of  senna  tea. 

'The  dinner  was  sufficient,  but  not  good,  .  .  .  The  evening  meal 
consisted  of  a  cup  of  milk  and  water,  and  one  small  piece  of  bread^  not 
weighing  two  ounces. 

*  Many  of  the  girls  being  thus  always  hungry,  there  were  continual 
attempts  to  procure  bread  clandestinely.     This  was  brought  to  light  by 
the  following  incident.    It  was  usual  for  each  pupil  to  repeat  on  Sunday 
morning  a  text  of  her  own  choice ;  and  one,  who  had,  I  believe,  been 
punished  for  stealing  bread,  repeated  in  her  turn  the  verse  which  declares 
that  men  do  not  despise  a  thief  who  steals  bread  to  satisfy  his  hunger. 
This  girl  died  shortly  after  of  consumption. 

*  My  own  wife,  on  her  return  home  for  the  first  vacation,  was  considered 
by  her  family  to  be  half  starved,  and  her  brother,  a  medical  man,  has 
told  me,  that  in  his  opinion,  her  health  suffered  for  years  from  the 
consequences  of  insufficient  nourishment/ 

The  writer  goes  on  to  say  that  '  Eventually  there  was  little  cause  for 
complaint  with  respect  to  the  food  supplied/ 

My  sole  desire  in  this  controversy  has  been  to  defend  the  dead  from 
the  aspersions  cast  on  her  by  interested  individuals.  Against  the  Clergy 
Daughters'  School,  as  at  present  conducted,  the  author  of  Jane  Eyre  has 
not  written  a  line,  nor  have  I.  The  management  is,  I  am  told,  un- 
exceptionable ;  indeed,  unless  my  memory  deceive  me,  the  only  disparag- 
ing remarks  I  have  ever  heard  made  respecting  it  were  by  Mrs.  Baldwin's 
own  father,  on  the  occasion  of  the  removal  of  one  of  his  daughters. — 
I  am,  sir,  your  much  obliged  and  obedient  servant, 

A.  B.  NICHOLLS. 

HAWORTH  PARSONAGE,  July  i$tkt  1857. 


From  *  Halifax  Guardianl  August  isf,  1857 

THE  COWAN  BRIDGE  SCHOOL  CONTROVERSY 

To  the  Readers  of  the  *  Halifax  Guardian? 

It  will  excite  but  little  surprise  that  I  should  feel  dissatisfied  at  the 
manner  in  which  the  editor  of  the  Halifax  Guardian  endeavoured  to 
sum  up  and  dispose  of  this  case  in  last  Saturday's  paper.  I  felt  that  I 
was  fairly  entitled  to  the  opportunity  of  correcting  one  or  two  very  erroneous 
statements  respecting  myself  and  my  father,  whose  esteem  for  Mr.  Wilson 
is  so  very  great,  and  his  appreciation  of  his  labours,  whether  as  it  regards 
his  schools  or  the  church  at  large,  is  unqualified.  It  was  from  no  such 
mean  motives  as  Mr.  Nicholls  thought  proper  to  assert  that  I  wrote  in. 
defence  of  the  school ;  it  was,  as  I  said  in  my  first  letter,  and  again 
repeat,  to  repel  the  calumnious  darts  so  unjustly  aimed  at  its  benevolent 
founder,  and  having  been  so  long  and  intimately  acquainted  with  the 
subject  in  dispute,  I  could  speak  confidently  of  the  different  tone  and 


APPENDIX  VIII  459 

spirit  pervading  the  whole  establishment  to  that  which  had  been  repre- 
sented— more  especially  as  it  regards  Mr.  Wilson's  character,  whose 
warmth  of  heart  and  Christian  benevolence  led  him  to  devise  and  carry 
on  so  successfully  this,  and  other  labours  of  love.  It  was  due  also  to 
Mr.  W.  W.  C.  Wilson  to  allow  him  to  rebut  the  charge  of  disingenuous- 
ness  so  unjustifiably  alleged  against  him.  And  also  to  give  the  lady 
referred  to  as  '  E.'  in  Mr.  Nicholls's  letter  the  opportunity  of  contradicting, 
in  her  own  words,  the  substance  of  the  letter  of  his  correspondent.  I 
will  now  take  the  liberty  of  setting  these  matters  in  their  true  light,  and 
then,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  terminate  this  controversy,  unless  some- 
thing very  extraordinary  should  call  for  further  contradiction  and  remark. 

I  must  take  a  decided  exception  to  the  summing-up  of  the  editor  upon 
the  whole  question.  He  assumes  the  truth  of  one  of  the  principal  points- 
in  dispute.  He  says,  *  There  were  certain  hardships  and  irregularities  at  the- 
Cowan  Bridge  School  when  Miss  Bronte  was  there,  which  were  remedied 
as  soon  as  they  became  known  to  its  reverend  and  benevolent  promoter/ 
This  is  neither  proved  nor  admitted.  The  only  thing  proved  (which  was 
never  denied)  was,  that  there  was  a  cook  at  the  school  for  a  few  weeks- 
whose  habits  of  cleanliness  were  certainly  not  satisfactory. 

Assertions,  unfavourable  in  their  nature,  have  been  made  by  two  or 
three  anonymous  correspondents,  whose  names  we  cannot  learn.  In 
opposition  to  this  we  have  the  testimony  of  at  least  three  hundred  pupils- 
and  others,  who  honourably  endorse  their  testimony  with  their  names. 
Who,  with  any  pretensions  to  candour  of  mind,  can  resist  such  over- 
whelming evidence  ?  I  have  but  little  doubt  that  some  persons  are  very 
cruelly  playing  upon  Mr.  Nicholls's  credulity.  This  will  perhaps  appear 
from  the  following  letter  by  the  lady  designated  as  '  E.'  in  his  extract. 
This  lady  I  may  say  is  Mrs.  Smith,  of  Chetwode  Parsonage,  Bucks ;  she 
and  her  sisters  were  daughters  of  a  highly-esteemed  clergyman,  vicar  of 
Olney,  a  memoir  of  whom  I  have  now  lying  on  my  table;  he  was  dis- 
tinguished for  the  tenderness  and  strength  of  his  affection  for  his- 
children;  and  had  their  treatment  been  such  as  represented,  he  would 
not  have  suffered  them  to  remain  a  single  day  at  the  school.  And  whea 
he  wished  to  place  his  daughters  at  a  school  nearer  home,  at  their  own 
request  they  remained  at  Cowan  Bridge. 

The  letter  of  '  E.,'  which  I  wish  the  editor  had  given  last  week,  was  as- 
follows ; — 

*  SIR, — Your  paper  of  the  i8th  inst  has  been  sent  to  me,  and  my  atten- 
tion directed  to  a  letter  from  the  Rev.  A.  B.  Nicholls,  containing  state- 
ments referring  to  myself.  As  the  "  E,"  of  that  letter,  I  beg  to  say  that 
they  were  sent  without  my  knowledge,  and  are  unjustly  used  to  support 
convictions  opposed  to  my  own.  I  believe  that  the  mixture  of  fact  and 
fiction  in  the  description  of  Cowan  Bridge  in  Jane  Eyre  conveys  to  the- 
reader  a  general  idta  opposed  to  the  truth.  I  look  back  on  the  five  years  I 
passed  there  with  great  thankfulness,  and  reckon  my  school-days  amongst 
the  happiest  of  my  life.  With  respect  to  the  porridge,  I  would  just  say 
that  when  Mr.  Wilson  was  informed  of  my  dislike  to  it,  he  at  once  gave 
orders  for  my  having  bread  and  milk.  He  is  not  responsible  for  the 
remedy  for  a  dainty  appetite  detailed  by  Mr.  Nicholls's  correspondent  \  and 


460  THE  BRONTES 

had  the  superintendent  been  in  the  house,  it  would  not  have  been  ad- 
ministered. The  incident  happened  during  a  vacation,  and  is,  I  believe, 
exaggerated,  for  I  have  no  recollection  of  the  most  offensive  part  of  the 
story.  I  had  always  plenty  of  food  after  I  was  allowed  bread  and  milk  for 
breakfast ;  and  had  I  liked  oatmeal  porridge,  as  Mr.  Wilson's  own  children 
did,  1  should  have  had  enough  from  the  first.  You  will  allow  me  to  add 
that  I  am  "  interested  "  in  this  controversy  only  by  the  claims  of  justice  and 
gratitude. — Yours,  etc.,  .  R. 

'P.S. — Mr.  Nicholls  has  fallen  into  a  mistake  in  saying  that  it  was  a 
•clergyman  who  sent  him  his  information.' 

This  letter  needs  no  comment.  I  must  assure  Mr.  Nicholls  that  he 
never  heard  from  my  father  anything  of  a  disparaging  nature  with  regard 
to  the  school.  His  imagination,  not  his  memory,  supplies  him  with  this 
impression.  My  father's  approbation  of  the  school  is  unqualified,  iutthJu& 
esteem  for  Mr.  Wilson  very  high. 

Mr.  Nicholls's  misapprehension  as  to  the  duration  of  my  residence  at 
the  school  is  easily  rectified.  The  only  uncertainty  in  my  mind  was  the 
date  of  the  removal  of  the  school  from  Cowan  Bridge  to  Casterton ;  it  was 
at  a  later  period  than  I  thought ;  so  that  I  was  at  Cowan  Bridge  a  longer, 
and  at  Casterton  a  shorter,  period  than  I  at  first  stated.  This,  it  will  be 
perceived,  adds  some  strength  to  my  former  testimony.  Mr.  Nicholls's 
charge  of  disingenuousness  against  Mr.  W.  W.  C.  Wilson  is  entirely  un- 
founded. That  gentleman  quoted  a  letter  written  by  the  superintendent 
in  1824;  that  superintendent  was  Miss  Andrews,  who  was  also  head- 
teacher.  After  Miss  Evans  became  superintendent,  Miss  A.  still  retained 
the  office  of  teacher,  and  was  never  '  superintendent  of  rooms.1 

I  am  sorry  that,  after  admitting  the  excellence  and  utility  of  the  institu- 
tion, he  should  still  point  the  finger  of  scorn  at  it,  and  so  frequently  and 
unnecessarily  reproduce  the  expression  of  Mr.  W.  W.  C.  Wilson,  *  My 
father's  charitable  institution.7  He  might  with  about  equal  truth  apply 
the  expression  *  Charitable  institution'  to  the  Universities  or  any  other 
endowed  public  scholastic  institution.  It  matters  but  little  whether  an 
institution  be  sustained  by  the  testamentary  bequests  and  donations  of 
past  ages,  or  the  donations  of  the  present;  as  to  principle,  they  stand 
pretty  much  on  the  same  ground. 

All  honour  (little  as  he  seeks  it)  is  due  to  Mr.  Wilson  for  his  efforts  in 
founding  that  institution;  and  for  his  self-sacrifice  and  liberality,  and 
unwearied  exertions,  in  sustaining  it,  in  conjunction  with  the  liberal  co- 
operation of  others.  And  look  at  the  superior  education  imparted  to  the 
pupils  there,  upon  comparatively  low  terms.  The  system  of  instruction 
comprehends  history,  the  use  of  the  globes,  grammar,  writing,  arithmetic, 
French,  Latin,  needlework,  and  calisthenics,  To  which  are  added  as 
accomplishments,  and  for  which  somewhat  higher  terms  are  paid,  music, 
drawing,  German,  Italian,  and  the  organ. 

I  think  every  right-minded  person,  uninfluenced  by  prejudice,  must 
hesitate  to  disparage,  or  in  any  way  to  impair,  the  stability  of  such  an 
institution,  one  that  has  proved  so  great  and  extensive  a  blessing, 

In  dismissing,  as  I  hope  finally,  this  subject,  I  must  observe  that  in  what 
I  have  said  I  have  been  influenced  only  by  a  regard  for  justice  and  truth, 


APPENDIX  VIII  461 

and  of  gratitude  to  Mr.  Wilson.  The  school  and  Mr.  Wilson  were  mis- 
represented and  misunderstood,  and  no  voice  lifted  up  here  in  defence. 
Many  of  my  former  fellow-pupils  in  other  parts  of  the  country  had  stood 
forward  with  their  favourable  testimony.  I  felt  constrained  to  use  my 
feeble  powers  and  influence  in  the  same  cause.  I  feel  thankful  that  I 
have  done  so,  and  thus  been  enabled  to  discharge  in  some  small  degree 
the  debt  of  gratitude  I,  in  common  with  the  hundreds,  owe  to  the  excellent 
and  benevolent  founder  of  the  school. 

Should  any  one  wish  for  further  information  relative  to  the  school  and 
its  management,  or  pamphlets  relating  thereto,  the  same  may  be  obtained 
free  of  cost  upon  application  to  W.  W.  C.  Wilson,  Weston-super-Marer 
Somerset.  SARAH  BALDWIN. 

MVTHOLMROYD  PARSONAGE,  July  2<)th,  1857, 


From  ( { Halifax  Guardian'  August  %tk,  1857 

THE  COWAN  BRIDGE  CONTROVERSY 
To  the  Editor  of  the  '  Halifax  Guardian? 

SIR, — As  you  truly  said  in  your  summing  up,  this  controversy  'lies  in 
a  small  space,'  The  question,  stripped  of  extraneous  matter,  is  simply 
this  :  What  was  the  state  of  the  school  during  the  time  that  Miss  Bronte 
was  tJierel 

She  and  others  described  the  treatment  as  harsh;  the  food  as  in- 
different and  insufficient.  Up  started  Mrs.  Baldwin,  and,  asserting  her 
own  superior  means  of  information,  said  in  effect :  Don't  believe  a  word 
of  it  j  hear  me.  I  went  to  Cowan  Bridge  seven  years  (according  to  Mr. 
Wilson's  date)  after  C.  Bronte  kft>  and  *  I  solemnly  affirm  that  the  food 
was  uniformly  abundant  and  good.'  I  pointed  out  to  her  that  she  could 
not  personally  know  whether  the  statements  were  true  or  not,  because 
she  was  not  at  'my  father's  charitable  institution '  at  the  time  referred  to. 
She  then  said  :  '  J  do  not  pretend  to  know  by  personal  observation  whether 
the  statements  are  true  or  not.  I  went  to  the  school  about  a  year  after  she 
left^  when,  /  believe^  the  state  of  things  was  -much  as  during  her  stay/ 
How  conclusive  !  But  Mr.  Wilson  has  '  300  testimonials '  in  his  favour 
—he  may  have  500 — and  all  just  as  worthless  as  Mrs.  Baldwin's,  unless 
proved  to  have  been  written  by  pupils  who  were  at  school  with  Miss 
Bronte,  which  has  not  been  done  in  a  single  instance.  You  will  observe 
that  '  E/  admits  that  she  was  treated  as  described  by  my  correspondent; 
and  Mrs.  Baldwin  does  not  deny  that  the  girls  were  driven  by  hunger  to 
steal  bread. 

Miss  Andrews  (identified  in  Mr.  Shepheard's  pamphlet  as  the  c  amiable 
Miss  Scratcherd '  of  Jane  Eyre)  was  an  under-teacher,  and  not  super- 
intendent, when  Miss  Bronte  was  at  Cowan  Bridge. 

I  did  hear,  and  in  this  house,  Mrs.  Baldwin's  father  speak  disparagingly 
of  the  management  on  the  occasion  of  the  removal  of  his  youngest 
daughtar  from  the  institution. 


462  THE  BRONTES 

Of  Rev.  C.  Wilson  I  know  nothing  personally.  I  would  only  say 
that  I  have  heard  him  spoken  of  by  clergymen,  who  agree  with  him  in 
sentiment,  in  terms  very  different  from  those  employed  by  Mrs.  Baldwin. 

And  now,  sir,  I  have  done  with  this  subject.  I  have  discharged  a 
painful  but  necessary  duty.  Henceforth  Charlotte  Bronte's  assailants  may 
growl  and  snarl  over  her  grave  undisturbed  by  me, — I  am,  sir,  your 
obedient  servant, 

A,  B.  NICHOLAS. 

HAWORTH  PARSONAGE,  August  $tht  1857. 


INDEX 


A.   H.   on  the  Clergy  Daughters'  School,  i. 

69-70 
'  Adventure  in  Ireland  '  by  Charlotte  Bronte, 

i.  74-76 
*  Agnes  Grey '  by  Anne  Bronte' : 

Publication  by  Newby,  1847,  i.  360,  367, 
375,  377,  378.  401 ;  ii.  169 

New  Edition  published  by  Messrs.  Smith, 
Elder  &  Co.,  ii.  169,  171,  174,  178,  180, 
183,  186 

'  Ainley,  Miss,'  in  '  Shirley,'  i.  90 
Allbut,  T.,  i.  112,  115 
Ambleside :  The   Knoll,   Home  of  Harriet 

Martineau,  ii.  184 
Anderson,  Wilson,  i.  149 
Arnold,  Matthew, 

His  meeting  with  Charlotte  Bronte,  ii. 
190-192 

His  Poem,  'Haworth  Churchyard,'  ii.  2 
Arnold,  Dr.  Thomas,  i.   449 ;   ii.  167,  181, 

182,  187 

Arnold,  Mrs.,  ii.  191 
Atheism,  ii.  197 
Athcnawm: 

On  Mrs.  GaskrU's  Apology  in  the  Times 
concerning  Branwell  Bronte  and  Mrs. 
Robinson,  i.  323 

On  Poems  by  Currer,  Ellis,  and  Acton 
Bell,  i.  327,  328 

On  'Jane  Eyre,'  i.  361,  362,  363 

Other  References,  ii.  €2,  85,  137,  166,  192 
Atkinson,  Mr.,   Collaborator  with    Harriet 

Martineau,  ii.  197 
Atkinson,  Rev.  Thomas,  i.  51 
Atkinson,  Mrs.  (Miss  Frances  Walker),  i.  51 ; 

ii.  165,  334 
Atlas:  on  Currer,  Ellis,  and  Acton  Bell,  i. 

378 ;  on  Mr.  Newby,  i.  446 
d'Aubigne\   J,  H.  M.,  i.  330;  ii.  215 
Austin,  Jane, 

1  Pride  and  Prejudice,'  i,  387 

'  Emma/  ii.  127,  317 

Other  References,  i.  386,  388 
Aylott    &    Jones,    Messrs.,    Publishers     of 

Poems    by    Charlotte    Bronte    and    Her 

Sisters,  i.   317-320,  323-328;    and  of  the 

Germ,  i.  320 

BALZAC,  Honore*  de,  ii.  174 

Banagher,  Ireland :   Home  of  Rev.  A.  B. 

Nicholls,  i.  19  ;  ii.  392 
Batk  Herald*  i.  368 

Battye,  John,  and  Miss  Cockhill,  ii.  352 
4  B«ck,     Madame  *    (Madame    Heger),     in 

'Villette/  1.256 
Bedford,  Mr.,  i,  38,  45 


Bell,  Mr.,  Cousin  of  Mr.  Nicholls,  ii.  385 

Bell,  Miss  (Mrs.  A.  B.  Nicholls},  ii.  392 

Bell,  Acton,  see  Bronte  (Anne) 

Bell,  Rev.  Alan,  ii.  293 

Bell,  Currer,  see  Bronte  (Charlotte) 

Bell,  Ellis,  see  Bronte  (Emily) 

Bell  Chapel,  Thornton,  i.  52  ;  ii.  410 

Benson,  Archbishop,  i.  157 

Benson,   A.    C.,    on    Charlotte    Bronte   at 

Stonegappe,  i.  157 
Bcntlcy's  Magazine,  i.  326 
Bernard- Beere,  Mrs.,  i.  394 
Bierley  :  Rev,  W.  Morgan,  Curate,  i.  48 
Birch- Pfeiffer's  (Charlotte)  '  Die  Waise  von 

Lowood,1  i.  395 

Birrell,  Augustine,  i.  19,  24,  255 
Black  Bull,  Haworth,  i.  63 
'  BUckwood  (William)  and  His  Sons '  by 

Mrs.  Oliphant,  i.  131-135 
Blackwood $  Magazine  : 

Branwell  Bronte's  Letters  to  the  Editor,  i. 

^  I3I-I3S 

On  '  Jane  Eyre,   i.  454-455 

Other  References,  i.  83,  216 
Blake  Hall :  Anne  Bronte,  Governess,  i.  154- 

*$S>  *74 

Blanche,  Mdlle.,  i.  237,  267-268 
Bland,  Susan,  i.  193 
Bombay  Gazette,  ii.  29 
Bookman  : 

Letter  of  Charlotte  Bronte,  ii.  332 
Article  on  the  Brontes  at  Thornton,  by 

Professor  C.   C.   Moore  Smith,  ii.  410- 

4^3 
Article  on  the  Brontes  at  Cowan  Bridge,  by 

Rev.  A.  M.  Mackay,  i.  69  ;  ii.  424-426 
Books  on  the  Brontes : 

'  The  Bronte's  in  Ireland '  by  Dr.  Thomas 

Wright,  i.  22,  255 ;  ii.  3-5 
i  Bronte   Nomenclature '    by   Dr.     J.    A. 

Erskine  Stuart,  i.  23 
*  The  Father  of  the  Brontes '  by  W.  W. 

Yates,  i.  26,  52 
'Bronteana1  (Collected  Writings  of  Rev. 

Patrick     Bronte')    by  G.    J.     Horsfall 

Turner,  i.  22,  30-31 
'  The  Brontg  Family '  by  F.  A.  Leyland, 

i.  14,  18,  140,  181,  451 
'Literary  Shrines  of  Yorkshire'  by  Dr. 

J.  A.  Erskine  Stuart,  i.  96 
'Thornton  and  the  Brontes'  by  William 

Scruton,  i.  52 

'  Haworth— Past  and  Present'  by  J.  Hors- 
fall Turner,  i.  66 
'  Life    of    Charlotte    Bronte '    by    Mrs. 

Goskell,  see  Gaskell  (Mrs.) 

46S 


464 


THE  BRONTES 


•  Charlotte  Bronte  and  Her  Circle'  by  C.  K.. 

Shorter,  .  20 
'Charlotte  Bronte;  and   Her  Sisters'  by 

C.  K.  Shorter,   .  150 
1  Monograph'  by  Sir  Wemyss  Reid,  i.  18, 

1  Ch  trlotte  Bronte '  by  Augustine  Birrell, 

i.  255 
•Charlotte  Bronte  and  the  East  Riding,' 

i.  168 
1  Persons  and  Places  of  "Jane  Eyre" '  by 

H.  E.  Wroot,  i.  157 

'Persons  and  Places  of  "Villette"  and 
"The  Professor'"  by  H.  E.  Wroot,  ii. 
302 
'Emily    Bronte'    by   Miss  A.    Mary    F. 

Robinson,  i.  181 ;  ii.  5-7,  13-15 
Sorrow's  (George)  '  Bible  in  Spain, '  ii.  24 
Boswell's  (James)  '  Dr.  Johnson,'  i.  i,  in 
Bradbury,  Mrs.,  i.  100 
Bradford:   Rev.  John  Fennell's  Curacy,  i. 

27 

Bradford  Observer,  i.  461 
Bradford  Review  on  the  Funeral    of   Mr. 

Bronte,  ii.  393 
Bradley,  Rev.  James  Chesterton,  of  Keigh- 

ley: 

*Rev.  David  Sweeting1  in  *  Shirley/  ii.  57 
His  Letter  to  Rev.  R.  K.  Smith,  ii,  57 
Branwell  Family,  i.  27,  32-33 
Branwell  Sisters,  i.  32-33. 
Branwell,  Miss  Anne,  i.  33 
Branwell,  Benjamin  Carne,  i.  32 
Branwell,  Mrs.  Charlotte,  i.  32 
Branwell,  Miss  Charlotte,  i.  32 
Branwell,  Miss  Elizabeth, 
Her  Life  at  Haworth,  i.  68,  78,  101,  102, 

105,  176 

Her  Attitude  to  the  School  Scheme  of 
Charlotte  Bronte  and  Her  Sisters,  i.  214, 
220-221,  223,  229 

Charlotte  Bronte's  Letter  to  Her,  i.  219 
Her  Death,  i.  242,  244,  246 
Her  Will,  i.  244 
Other  References,  i.  33,  49 
Branwell,  Joseph  and  Mrs.  Charlotte,  i.  32 
Branwell,  Miss  Margaret,  i.  33 
Branwell,  Maria,  see  Bronte  (Mrs. ) 
Branwell,  Thomas,  i.  32 
Braxborne,  ii.  59 

Bremer,  Frederika,  ii.  23,  238,  339 
'Bretton,  Mrs'  (Mrs.  Smith), in  'Villette/  ii. 

95>  397 
1  Bretton '   (Burlington  or    Bridlington)    in 

'Villette,' ii.  302 

Brewster,  Sir  David,  ii.  221,  222,  224,  252 
Bridlington,  ii.  302 
Briery,  Windermere,  ii.  162,  172 
Britannia,  i.  326,  366 ;  ii.  83 
1  Brocklehurst,    Mr./   in  'Jane   Eyre/  see 

'  Jane  Eyre ' 
Bronte  Family  : 

Bronte'  Nomenclature,  by  Dr.  J.  A.  Erskine 
Stuart,  i.  22-23 

'The  Bronte  Family'  by  F.  A.  Leyland, 
i.  14,  18,  149,  181,  451 

*The  Bronte's  in  Ireland'  by  Dr.  William 
Wright,  i.  22  ;  ii.  3-5 


The  Brontes,  Fact  and  Fiction,  by  Angus 

M.  Mackay,  i.  255 
Bronte,  Anne  (4  Acton  Bell ') : 
Birth  at  Thornton,  1820,  i.  54 ;  ii.  411 
Her  Godmother,  Miss  F.  Outhwaite,  ii.  50, 

41:5,  417,  418,  419,  421 
Infancy  at  Haworth,  i.  66-70 
Pupil  at  Roe  Head,  i.  9 
Her  Visit  to  Mrs.  J.  C.  Franks,  ii,  421 
Return  to  Haworth,  1838,  i.  149 
Governess  at  Mrs.  Ingham's,  Blake  Hall, 

1839,  i.  154-155.  174 
Governess  at   Ihorp  Green,  u  13-14,  215, 

216,  306 
On  the  Branwell  Bronte;  and  Mrs.  Robinson 

Incident,  i.  14 
The  School  Scheme  of  Charlotte  and  Her 

Sisters,  1841,  i,  213-217,  219-224 
Her  Journal,  July  30,  1841,  i.  216 
The  School  Scheme   revived  (1844)  and 

abandoned,  i.  275-276,  281-283,  305-306 
Her  Journal,  July  31,  1845,  i.  306-307 
Her  return  to  Haworth,  1845,  i.  301 
Friendly  Relations  with  the  Misses  Robin- 
son, i.  347,  441 

Her  Personal  Appearance,  i.  103 
Friendship  of  Emily  and  Anne,  i.  78;  ii.  1-2 
Her  Religious  Views,  ii.  2 
Her  Dog  '  Flossie/  i.  105,  278,  305 ;  ii.  13, 

53.  398 

Her  Early  Stories,  i.  19,  72 
'  Life  of  Solala  Vernon/  i.  217 
Publication,  by  Newby,  of  'Agnes  Grey/ 

1847,   i.   360,   367,  375,   377.  378,  401 ; 

ii.  169 
New  Edition  of  '  Agnes  Grey  '  published 

by  Messrs.  Smith,  Eider  &  Co.,  ii.  169, 

171,  174,  178,  180,  183,  186 
Publication  of  'The  Tenant  of  WildfaU 

Hall/  by  Newby,  1848,  i.  435-43$,  442, 

444;  ii.  169,  183 

Her  Visit  to  London,  1848,  i.  436-439 
Poems  of  Currer,  Ellis,  and  Acton  Bell, 

i.  317-320,  323-329,  366,  378,  460,  462 ; 

ii.  164-165 

Her  Unpublished  Poems,  ii.  43^ 
Her  Letters  to  Ellen  Nussey,  t.  355,  384 ; 

ii.  38 

Her  Health,  i.  145-146,  341,  400,  406 
Her  Last  Illness,  ii.  12,  15-17,  19-51 
At  Scarborough,  ii.  51 
Her  Death,  May  1849,  ii.  51^55 
Her  Tomb  at  Scarboroxigh,  ii,  52 
Charlotte's  Visit  to  Her  Grave /ii.  367,  270 
Other  References,  i,  103,  104,   K>6,   aia, 

213,  2t9,  224,  226,  338,  407,  409,  432, 

443 ;  ii,  10,  64,  86,  138 
Bronte,  Branwell, 

Birth  at  Thornton,  1817,  i.  53-54;  ii.  4x1 
James  Taylor's  Resemblance  to  him,  iu 

20t 

Charlotte's  Letters  to  him,  i.  83*  36*5 
His  Desire  to  become  an  Artist,  i,  103, 

116,  131 

His  Studio  at  Haworth,  I  67 
His  Letter  to  the  Roval  Academy,  J.  131 
His  Studio  at  Bradford  and  hi»  Pictures, 

i.  149, 178 


INDEX 


465 


Tutor  at  Mr.  Postlethwaite's,  Broughton- 

in-Furness,  Jan.  1840,  i.  179-181 
His  Letter  to  the  Master  of  the  Lodge  of 

the  Three  Graces  at  Haworth,  i.  179 
At  Sowerby  Bridge,  Oct.  1840,  i.  194 
At  Luddenden  Foot,  1841,  i.  194,  216,  296 
F.  H.  Grundy's  Reminiscences,  i.  241,  451- 

4S2 
His  Letters  to  F.  H.  Grundy,  i.  241-243, 

294-298 
Tutor  at  Thorp  Green,   Dec.  1842 — July 

1845,  i.  13 
His  Relations  with  Mrs.  Robinson,  i.  13-15, 

295>  297,  322,  332 
His  Dismissal  from  Thorp  Green,  i.  303, 

321 
Mrs.  Gaskell's  Apology  to  Mrs.  Robinson, 

i.  321-323 
His  Conduct  at  Haworth,  i.  307-309,  311, 

3I3-3IS.   321,    330-332,    34i.   347,    350. 

385,  441,  451  ;  ii.  5-7 
His  Claim  to  the  Authorship  of  '  Wuther- 

ing  Heights, 'i.  451-452 
His  Letters  to  the  Editor  of  Blackwoo&s 

Magazine,  i.  131-135 
His  Letter  to  Wordsworth,  i.  135 
His  Letters  to  Hartley  Coleridge,  i.  181- 

183 

His  Early  Stories,  i.  72 
His  Translations  of  Horace,  i.  182-183 
His  Unpublished  Writings,  ii.  433-434 
His  Death,  1848,  i.  452-457 
Other  References,  i.  9,  10,  97,  103,  118, 

191,  217,  225,  228,  285,  288 
Bronte',  Charlotte  ('  Currer  Bell') : 
Birth  at  Thornton,  1816,  i.  53,  54,  6r  ;  ii. 

411 
Her  Godparents,  Rev.  Thomas  and  Mrs. 

Atkinson,  i.  51 
Infancy  at  Haworth,  i.  66-78 
Pupil  at  Cowan  Bridge,  1824-5    *•  69'7°  I 

ii.  411,  424-426 
The  Cowan  Bridge  Controversy  { '  Lowood  * 

in  'Jane  Eyre'),  see  Clergy  Daughters' 

School 
Literary  Childhood  at  Haworth,  1825-30, 

i,  71-78 
Pupil  at  Roe  Head,  1831-2,  i.  79-92,  428- 

429 ;  ii.  419 
Her  School  Friends,  see  Nussey  (Ellen) 

and  Taylor  (Mary) 
Impressions  of  Charlotte  as  a  Pupil  by 

Mary  Taylor,  i.  79-83;  and  by  Ellen 

Nussey,  i.  84-92 
Her  Letter  to  Mrs.  J.  C.  Franks,  i.  83 ; 

ii.  418 

Her  Visit  to  Mrs.  J.  C.  Franks,  ii.  421 
Life  at  Haworth,  1832-5,  i.  93-116 
Her  First  Visit  to  Ellen  Nussey  at  Rydmgs, 

i,  96-98 
Ellen  Nussey's  First  Visit  to  Haworth,  i. 

101-106 
Governess  at  Roe  Head  with  Miss  Margaret 

Wooler,  1835-7,  i.  9-10,  73,  79,  117-137 
Governess  at  Dewsbury  Moor  "with  Miss 
Margaret  Wooler,  1837-8,  i.  79,  137- 

x$8 
At  Haworth,  i,  149 

VOL.  II. 


Governess  at  Stonegappe,  1839,  i.  149, 156- 

162,  206 

At  Swarcliffe,  i.  159-162 
At  Haworth,  1839-41,  i.  163-201 
Her  First  Visit   to  the  Seaside,  i.   167- 

Governess  at  Upperwood  House,  Rawdon, 

1841,  i.  202-228 

Her  School  Scheme,  1841,  i.  213-217,  219- 

224 

Her  Brussels  Idea,  i.  220-227 
Her  Letter  to  Miss  Elizabeth  Branwell,  i. 

219 
Pupil  at  the  Pensionnat  Heger,  Brussels, 

1842,  i.  229-253 

Death  of  Miss  Branwell  and  Charlotte's 

Return  to  Haworth,  Nov.  1842,  i.  244, 

250 
Teacher  at  the  Pensionnat  Heger,  1843,  i, 

254-274 
Her  Relations  with  Prof.  He"ger,  i.  254-257, 

268,  272,  380 
Her  Friends  in  Brussels,  see  Wheelwright 

(Miss  Lsetitia)  and  Dixon  (Mary) 
Her  Life  at  Brussels  mirrored  in   'The 

Professor'  and  'Villette,'  see  'Professor 

(The) 'and  'Villette' 
The  Brontes  at  Brussels,  by  Mrs.  Frederika 

Macdonald,  i.  256 

Return  to  Haworth,  Jan.  1844,  i.  275 
School  Scheme  revived  and  abandoned, 

1844,  i.  275-276,  281-283,  305,  306 
Visit  to  Hathersage,  1845,  i.  303 
Her  Letters  to  Messrs.  Aylott  &  Jones,  i. 

318-320,  323-328 
Publication  of  Poems  by  Currer,  Ellis,  and 

Acton  Bell,  1846,   i.   318-320,  323-329, 

366,  378,  460,  462 ;  ii.  164-165 
Her    Letter    to    the   Dublin    University 

Magazine,  i.  328 
Accompanied  Her  Father  to  the  Oculist 

at  Manchester,  Aug.  1846,  i.  336-338; 

ii.  263 
'The    Professor'    declined    by    Messrs. 

Smith,    Elder   &    Co.,    July  1847,  see 

'  Professor  (The) ' 
*  Jane  Eyre,'  published  Oct.  1847,  see  'Jane 

Eyre' 
Miss    Rigby's  Article    in    the    Quarterly 

JReview,  see  *  Jane  Eyre ' 
Her  First  Visit  to  London,  July  1848,  i. 

436-439 

'Miss  Brown/  i.  437 
Her  First  Meeting  with  George  Smith,  i. 

436-439 
Her  First  Meeting  with  W.  S.  Williams, 

i.  437-439 
Her  View  of  the  Branwell  Bronte'  and  Mrs. 

Robinson  Incident,  i.  14 
Her  Letters  to  Branwell  Bronte,  i.  83,  265 
Death  of  Branwell,  Sept.  1848,  i.  452-457 
Illness  of  Charlotte,  i.  453,  455,  458 
Her  Letters  to  Emily  Bronte,  i.  158-160, 

161-162,  208,  223,  267,  270,  274 
Death  of  Emily,  Dec.  1848,  ii.  7-17 
Opening   Chapters  of  'Shirley*  sent   to 

Messrs.  Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  Feb.  1849, 

ii.  23-25,  30-37 

2  G 


466 


THE  BRONTES 


Bronte, 

Death  of  Anne,  May  1849,  ii.  18-55 
Completion  of  'Shirley,'  Sept.  1849,  see 

'  Shirley ' 
Her  Letters  to  a  Young  Man  (on  '  Shirley ' ), 

ii.  138 

Literary  Recognition,  ii.  91-139 
Her  Visit  to  London,  Nov. — Dec,  1849,  ii. 

95 

Guest  of  Mrs.  Smith,  ii.  95 

Her  Friendship  with  George  Smith,  ii.  96 

Her  Letters  to  George  Smith,  i.  2,  4, ;  ii. 

77,  119,  150,  248,.  282-285,  2^9 
Her  Friendship  with  W.   S.  Williams,  i. 

380-427 
Her  Letters  to  W.  S.  Williams,  i.  4,  20, 

360  &t  seq. 
Her  First  Meeting  with  Thackeray,  ii.  92, 

97,    100,    104,    an  ;    and   Mrs,    Anne 

Thackeray  Ritchie's   Reminiscences,  ii. 

92-9S 
Her  Meeting  with  Miss  Martineau,  Dec. 

1849,  i.  12 ;  ii.  98 
Her  First  Visit  to  Sir  J.  Kay-Shuttleworth, 

March  1850,  ii.  118-119,  120 
Her  Visit  to""Londpn,  June  1850,11.  140-143 
Guest  of  Mrs.  Smith,  ii.  140 
Her  Letter  to  Mrs.  Smith,  ii.  223 
Guest  of  Miss  L.  Wheelwright,  ii.  140 
Her  Friendship  with  Miss  Laetitia  Wheel- 
wright, ii.  95,  104,  140 
Her  Letters  to  Miss  Lsetitia  Wheelwright, 

ii-  33,  98,  141,  149.  *89»  262j  ^69,  350, 

389 
Her  First  Sight  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington, 

ii.  140,  142 
Her  Meeting  with  G.  H.  Lewes,  ii.  140, 

Her  Relations  with  George  Henry  Lewes, 

i.  366-368,  372 
Her  Letters  to  G.  H.  Lewes,  i.  365,  367, 

386-388 ;  ii.  79,  106-107,  175 
Second  Meeting  with  Thackeray,  ii.  143 
Her  Meeting  with  Miss  Julia  Kavanagh, 

ii.  143 

Her  Letter  to  Miss  Kavanagh,  i.  393 
Her  Visit  to  Scotland,  July  1850,  ii.  145- 

148,  150,  160,  168 
Her  Visit  to  Sir  J.  Kay-Shuttleworth  at 

Windermere,  1850,  ii.  152, 160,  168, 172- 

173 
Her  Meeting  with  Mrs.  Gaskell,  and  Mrs. 

Gaskell's  Impressions,  i.  3 ;  ii.  160-162 
Her  Visit  to  Harriet  Martineau  at  Amble- 
side,  1850,  ii.  160,  174,  182,  184-193 
Her  Friendship  with  Harriet  Martineau,  i. 

12 ;  ii.  97-98,  100,  103,  320 
Her  Letters  to  Harriet  Martineau,  ii.  304- 

305 
Resentment  of  Miss  Martineau's  Review  of 

'Shirley,'  ii.  78,  81,  82,  305 
Her  Meeting  with  Matthew  Arnold,  ii.  190- 

192 

At  Haworth,  Jan.— May  1851,  ii.  194-210 
An  Invitation  to  Switzerland,  ii,  209,  2x1 
In  London,  May  1851,  ii.  211-252 
At  the  Exhibition,  ii.  190,  212-215,  218, 
221,  224,  252 


At  Thackeray's  Lectures,  ii.  212-213,  2I4. 

216,  219,  227,  233,  25-2,  325 
Thackeray's  Gifts  of  In.scnbecl  Copies  of 

*  Vanity  Fair '  ( 1848),  i.  i ;  and  '  Esmond ' 

(1852),  ii.  91,  284 
Dedication  of  Second   Edition   of    'Jane 

Eyre'  to  Thackeray,  i.  389,  390;  ii.  31, 

91-92 
Hero- Worship  of  Thackeray,  and  George 

Smith's  Gift  of  Portrait  of  Thackeray, 

ii.  91,  309-310 
'Breakfast'  with  Samuel  Rogers,  ii.  221, 

222 

Visit  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  at  Manchester,  ii. 

223 
Miss  Wooler's  Visit  to  Haworth,  ii.  235, 

240 
Her    Friendship    with    Miss     Margaret 

Wooler,  i.  145-146 
Her  Letters  to  Miss  Margaret  Wooler,  i. 

314,  340,  406,  448 ;  ii.  35,  48,  108,  116, 

172,  223,  231,  233,  245,  250,  258,  269, 

276,  278,  289,  303,  307,  3x5,  333,  336, 

342,  344,  355,  368 

Illness,  Dec.  1851,  ii.  241,  243-247,  251 
Lonely  days  at  Haworth,  Mar. — Oct.  1852, 

ii.  253-281 

Writing  of '  Villette,'  it.  253,  282 
At  Filey,  June  1852,  ii.  266-270 
Visit  to  Anne's  Grave,  ii.  267,  270 
Part  of  'Villette'  sent  to  Messrs,  Smith, 

Elder  &  Co.,  ii.  282-284 
'Villette'    completed,     Nov.     1852,    see 

1  Villette ' 
Miss  Anne  Motley's  Article  on   '  Villcttci' 

in   the    Christian.    Ke»ieml>rattCfr,   awl 

Charlotte's  Letter  to  the  Editor,  ii.  332 
Her  Lovers,  ii.  294-295 
Rev.  Henry  Nusscy  as  Suitor,  i.  150,  154 
Her  Letters  to  Rev.  Henry  Nussey,  i.  152, 

170,  186,  200,  210 

Rev.  Mr.  Bryce  as  Suitor,  i,  163,  165 
James  Taylor  as  Suitor,  ii.  11)4-207,  353, 

255.257,271,295 
Her  Letters  to  James  Taylor,  i.  4  ;  it,  28- 

30,  68,  72,  8a,  137,  i6b,  180,  187,  191, 

197,  2OO-2C3I,  238,  3.5  X 

Rev,  A.  B.  Nichplls's  Proposal  of  Marriage, 
Dec.  1852,  ii.  295-296 ;  Mr.  Bronte's 
Opposition,  ii.  295-298  ;  and  C'harlotttt'B 
Refusal,  ii.  296 

Leave-taking  of  Mr,  Nioholls,  ii,  327 
In  London,  Jan,  1853,  "•  399*3°7 
Publication  of  'Viilette,'  Jan.   1853,  see 

'Villette' 

Return  to  Haworth,  Feb.  i8<$,  ii,  307 
Visit  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  at  Manchester,  April 
1853,  ii.  320;  and  Mrs.  Giiskoli's  im- 
pressions of  the  Visit,  ii,  331*333 
In  Scotland,  Aug.  1853,  ii.  333-334,  340 
Mrs.  Gaskell  at  Haworth,  K«pt,  1853,  ft, 
336 ;  and  Mrs.  Gaskell's  ImpreKsioui  of 
Visit,  ii.  336-341 
Her  Friendship  with  Mrs,  Ga»kdl»  L  3; 

ii.  160-165,  3r9 

Her  Letters  to  Mrs.  Gaskell,  ii,  87,  90, 163, 
165,  184,  226-329,  232,  337,  5348,  363, 
300,  310,  317,  325,  338,  331,  335,  375 


INDEX 


467 


Brontg,  Charlotte— continued. 
At  Hornsea  with  Miss  Wooler,  ii.  342,  345 
Mr.  Nicholls's  Return  to  Haworth,  ii.  352- 

354 ;    and  Mr.  Bronte's  Consent  to  the 

Marriage,  ii.  354-357 
On  Mr.  Nicholls,  i.  28  <,  333,  356;  ii.  294, 

3*i,  3*3,  323-324,  365,  367,  375,  389 
Her  Marriage,  June  29,  1854,  ii.  363-364 
Honeymoon  in  Ireland,  ii.  365 
Married  Life,  ii.  366-386 
Visit  to  Sir  J.  Kay-Shuttleworth  at  Gaw- 

thorpe,  Jan.  1855,  ii.  386 
Illness,  ii.  386-390 

Her  Death,  March  31,  1855,  ii.  390-391 
Her  Will,  ii.  392 
Sadness  of  Her  Life,  i.  i,  15 
Her  Personal  Appearance,  i.  9,  17,  70,  So- 

81,  85 ;  ii.  190-191,  322 
Richmond's  Portrait,  ii.  148,  151,  309 
On  her  Mother's  Love-Letters,  i.  28-29  I 

ii.  115 
Her  Letters  to  her  Father,  i.  77  ;  ii.  141, 

160,  185,  211-213,  215,  218-220,  222,  266 
Her  Copy  of  '  The  Imitation  of  Christ,'  i. 

27-28,  71 
Her  Letters  to  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder  &  Co. , 

i-  358-360,  362,  367,  368-370 
Prices  paid  for  Her  Novels,  ii.  75,  290 
Her  Preface  to  '  Wuthering  Heights,1  i. 

3i7,  359;  ».  5.  13.  169,  171,  174,  178, 

180,  183,  186 
Her  Translation  of  Book  i.  of  Voltaire's 

'  Henriade,'  i.  79 

HerStory  'An  Adventure  in  Ireland,'!.  74-76 
Her  Early  and  Unpublished  Stories  and 

Poems,  i.  71-78 ;  ii.  430-432 
The  Duke  of  Wellington  as    Hero,   see 

Wellington  (Duke  of) 
<5eorge  Smith's  Gift  of  Portrait  of  the  Duke 

of  Wellington,  ii.  150-151,  309 
Her  Unpublished  Poems,  i.  76-77 ;  ii.  430- 

43^ 
Her  Valentine  printed  in  the   Wkitehaven, 

News,  i.  204 

Her  Letter  to  Robert  Southev,  i.  129 
Her  Letter  to  Wordsworth,  i.  183 
Her  Letter  to  De  Quincey,  i.  329 
Her  Letter  to  R.  H.  Home,  i.  375 
Mrs,  Gaskell's  '  Life,'  see  Gaskell  (Mrs.) 

*  Charlotte   Bronte  and    Her  Circle '   by 

C.  K.  Shorter,  i.  20 

4 Charlotte  Bronte*  and  Her  Sisters'  by 
C.  K.  Shorter,  i.  150 

*  Charlotte  Bronte '  by  A.  Birrell,  i.  19, 24, 

2S5 

^Monograph  by  Sir  Wemyss  Reid,  i.  18,  255 
Impressions  of  a  Friend  of  Mrs.  Gaskell's, 

ii.  176-178 
John   Stores   Smith's   Reminiscences,   ii. 

Sydney  Dobell's  Article  in  the  Palladium, 

ii,  167,  169,  170,  180,  183 
Her  Letters  to  Sydney  Dobell,  ii.  183,  209, 

345 

Article  on  'Jane  Eyre'  in  Shares  Maga- 
zine, June  1855,  i.  5,  6 

Further  Impressions  by  Mary  Taylor,  i. 
117-119,  247 


Her  Letters  to  Mary  Taylor,  i.  435-439 
Mary  Taylor's  Letters  to  her,  i.  261,  431- 

435 ;  ii.  131,  152,  157 
Ellen  Taylor's  Letter  to  her,  ii.  153 
Her  Friendship  with  Ellen  Nussey,  i.  4, 

79,  109,  380 ;  ii.  103 
Her  Letters  to  Ellen  Nussey,  i.  4,  18,  29, 

So,  93  et  seq. 

Her  Letter  to  Mrs.  Nussey,  i.  303 
Her  Letters  to  Mercy  Nussey,  i.  226,  456 
Her  Letter  to  Mrs.  Clapham,  ii.  385 

Her  Letter  to  Susey ,  i.  421 

Her  Letter  to  Ellen  Tomlinson,  i.  450 
Her  Letters  to  Martha  Brown,  ii.  52,  144, 

306 
On  the  Church  of  England,  i.  377;  ii.  182, 

316 

On  Dr.  Thomas  Arnold,  ii.  180,  182 
On  Catholicism,  i.  232,  237,  239,  270  ;  ii. 

219-220,  221,  227,  239,  270,  315 
On  Dissenters,  i.  177-178 
On  d'Aubigne,  i.  330  ;  ii.  215 
On  Atheism,  ii.  197,  201 
On  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  ii.  228,  260 
On  Alexander  Harris,  i.  461 ;   ii.  24,  40, 

43,  48 

On  Dr.  Johnson,  i.  Sz 
On  Emerson,  i.  444,  458 ;  ii.  24,  122 
On  Goethe,  ii.  69,  71,  82 
On  Shakespeare,  i.  in;  ii.  117 
On  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  i.  82 
On  Burns,  ii.  37 
On  Southey,  ii.  127 
On  Byron,  i.  in,  413 
On  Tennyson's  4  In  Memoriam/  ii.  164 
On  Matthew  Arnold,  i,  190-192 
On  Dobell's  '  Balder,'  ii.  345-346 
On  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb,  i.  449 
On  Sorrow's  '  Bible  in  Spain,'  ii.  24 
On  Fielding,  i.  378,  387 ;  ii.  322,  325,  326 
On  Sir  Walter  Scott,  i.  99,  111 
On  ist  Lord  Lyttqn,  i.  465  ;  ii.  83,  85,  in 
On  Jane  Austen,  i.  386-388 ;  ii.  in,  127, 

317 
On  Mrs.  Gaskell  and  her  Novels,  ii.  23, 

86,  90,  162,  263,  300 
On  Mrs.  Lynn  Linton,  i,  464 ;  ii.  10 
On  Mrs.  H.  Beecher  Stowe  and  '  Uncle 

Tom's  Cabin,'  ii.  276,  283,  331,  339 
On  Dickens,  i.  361 ;  ii.  71,  233 
On  Harriet  Martineau,  ii.  86,  90,  97-98, 

103,  1 86,  197,  201,  303,  320 
On  G.  H.  Lewes  and  his  Writings,  i.  387, 

409-413  ;  ii.  40,  1 06,  in,  143 
On  Thackeray  and  his  Works,  i.  361,  362, 

373.  377,  388,  390-391,  4°2,  445,  459; 

ii.  10,  37,  101,  108,  116,  120,  143,  211- 

213,  214,  216,  218-219,  227,  233,  348-249, 

252,  282,  284,  287,  322,  325,  443 
On  George  Sand,  i.  387,  388 ;  ii.  175 
On  Balzac,  ii.  175 
On  Ruskin,  i.  441 ;  ii.  44,  161,  233 
On  Leigh  Hunt,  ii.  4^. 
On  Carlyle,  i.  424 ;  ii.  40,  44 
On  Mirabeau,  i.  424-425 
On  the  Abdication  of  Louis  Philippe,  etc., 

i.  397-399.  4oi>  4°5 
On  Napoleon,  i.  399 


468 


THE  BRONTES 


Bronte,  Charlotte— continued. 
On  the  Art  of  Love,  etc. ,  i.  163-201 
On  Women  Friendships,  ii.  103 
On  Women's  Mission,  etc.,  i.  418,  422;  ii. 

164 

On  Women  Workers,  ii.  132,  232 
On  Governesses,  i.  415-418,  423 ;  ii.  58-59 
Bronte,  Elizabeth, 

Birth  at  Hartshead,  1815,  i.  49,  53  ;  ii.  410 
At  Cowan  Bridge,  i.  68-70 
Death  at  Haworth,  1825,  i.  69 
Other  References,  i.  82,  89 ;  ii.  81 
Bronte,  Emily  Jane  (Ellis  Bell) : 
Birth  at  Thornton,  1818,  i.  53-54;  ii.  411 
Infancy  at  Haworth,  i.  66 
At  Cowan  Bridge,  i.  69-70 ;  ii.  i 
Pupil  at  Roe  Head,  i,  9,  116 ;  ii.  2 
Teacher  at  Law  Hill  School,  near  Halifax, 

i.  10,  138-139,  149;  ii.  2 
Return  to  Haworth,  i.  149,  172 
Her  Journal,  July  30,  1841,  i.  215 ;  ii.  3 
The  School  Scheme  of  Charlotte  and  Her 

Sisters,  1841,  i.  213-217,  219-224 
The  Brussels  Idea,  i.  220-227 
Pupil  at  the  Pensionnat  HSger,  Brussels, 

i.  229-253,  258  ;  ii.  2 
At  Haworth,  i.  244 

The  School  Scheme  revived  (1844)   and 
again  abandoned,  i.   275-276,  281-283, 
305-306 
Her  Journal,  July  31,   1845,  i.  304-306  ; 

ii.  3 

1  Emily  Bronte '  by  Miss  A.  Mary  F.  Robin- 
son, i.  181 ;  ii.  5-7,  13-15 
Matthew  Arnold's  Lines,  ii.  2 
1  Shirley  Keeldar'  in  '  Shirley,'  ii.  56,  338 
Her  Personal  Appearance,  i.  103 
Resemblance  to  G.  H.  Lewes,  ii.  143 
Friendship  of   Emily  and   Anne,   i.   78 ; 

ii.  1-2 

Her  Kindness  to  Branwell,  ii.  5-7 
Charlotte's  Letters  to  her,  i.  158-160,  161- 

162,  208,  223,  267,  270,  274 
Her  Letters  to  Ellen  Nussey,  i.  265,  316 
Her  Religion,  i.  118 ;  ii.  2 
Her  Dog  '  Keeper/  i.  67,  105,  213,  216, 
2I7>  3°5  J  ii-  *3»  I5»  53j  24°»  338  J  Ulus., 
240 

Her  Early  Stories,  i.  19,  72 
'  Wuthering  Heights, '  published  by  Newby, 

1847,  see  '  Wuthering  Heights' 
New  Edition  of  '  Wuthering  Heights,'  with 
Preface  by  Charlotte  Bronte",  published 
by  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  i.  317, 
359  ;  »•  5.  13.  169,  171,  174,  178,  180, 
183,  186 

Poems  by  Currer,  Ellis,  and  Acton  Bell 
(1846),  i.  318-320,  323-329,  366,  378,  460, 
462 ;  ii.  164-165 

Her  Unpublished  Poems,  ii.  432 
Complete  Poems  to  be  published,  ii.  3 
Her  Unpublished  Writings,  ii.  432-433 
Illness,  1848,  i.  460-461,  463-464 
Her  Death,  Dec.  1848,  i.  307 ;  ii.  7-17 
Other  References,  i.  103,  104,  105,  106, 
118,  217,  261,  315.  355,  356,  396,  442, 
443 ;  ii.  64,  85,  86,  138,  143 
Bronte',  Hugh,  ii,  3,  394 


Bronte',  Maria,  wife  of  Rev.  Patrick  Bront£, 

see  Bronte  (Mrs.  Patrick) 
Bronte,  Maria, 

Birth  at  Hartshead,  1814,  i.  49,  53 
At  Cowan  Bridge,  i.  68-70 
Death  at  Haworth,  1825,  i,  69 
Other  References,  i.  82,  89  ;  ii.  81 
Bronte,  Rev.  Patrick, 
Birth  in  Ireland,  1777,  i.  22 
His  Family,  i.  22 
'  The  Brontes  in  Ireland '  by  Dr.  Thomas 

Wright,  i.  22  ;  ii.  3-5 
Teacher  at  Glascar  Hill,  etc.,  i.  23 
At  Cambridge  University,  i,  23 
His  Ministry  at  Wethers  field,  i.  24 
His  Ministry  at  Wellington,  Shropshire, 

i.  25 

His  Ministry  at  Dewsbury,  i.  25-27 
His  Ministry  at  Hartshead,  i.  27,  48 
His  Sweetheart  Mary  Burder,  i.  25,  68 
His  Sweetheart  Elizabeth  Filth,  ii.  411 
Maria  Bran  well's  Love  Letters,  i.  19,  28-29, 

33-48 ;  ii.  115 
His  Marriage  with  Maria  Branwell,  i.  27, 

32,  48  ;  ii.  411 

His  Ministry  at  Thornton,  i.  48,  50-62 
His  Children  born  at  Hartshead,  i.  49,  53  ; 

and  at  Thornton,  i.  53-54 
The  Brontes  at  Thornton,  by  Prof.  C.  C. 

Moore  Smith,  ii.  410-423 
Incumbent  of  Haworth,  i.  54,  62,  410 
*  Haworth'  by  J.  Horsfall  Turner,  i.  66 
His  Curates,  see  Curates 
His  Relations  with  the  Dissenters,  i.  177-178 
Death  of  His  Wife,  1821,  i.  54 
Deaths  of  His  Children,  Maria  and  Eliza- 
beth, 1825,  i.  68-70 
Accompanied    Charlotte    and    Emily    to 

Brussels,  i.  230 
His  Failing  Eyesight  and  the  Operation  at 

Manchester,  i.  276,  297,  300,  305,  334, 

335.  336-338>  34°  I  ii-  263 
Death  of  Branwell,  Sept.  1848,  i.  452-457 
Death  of  Emily,  Dec.  1848,  ii.  7-17 
Death  of  Anne,  May  1849,  ii.  18*55 
Illnesses,  ii.  203-204,  272-273,  274,  276 
George  Smith's  Gift  of  Richmond's  Por- 
trait of  Charlotte,  ii.  148,  151,  309 
Charlotte's  Letters  to  Her  JKather,  i,  77 ; 

ii.  141,  160,  185,  211-213,  315,  3x8«aao, 

222,  266 
His  Opposition  to  Charlotte's  Marriage, 

ii,  295-298,  313 

His  Consent  obtained,  ii.  354-357 
Marriage   of  Charlotte   to    R«v.    A.    B, 

Nicholls,  ii.  364 

Death  of  Charlotte,  1855,  ii,  390-391 
His  Choice  of  Mrs,  Gasleell  to  write  the 

'  Life  of  Charlotte  BroiUiV  i,  3-18 
Mrs.  Gaskell's   Misrepresentation  of  his 

Domestic  Character,  i.  n,  ar,  54;  ii. 

411 ;  and  William  Deardcn's  Letter,  i. 

5S-6.r 

The  Pistol-Shooting  Story,  i,  ai-aa,  59 
His   Servants,  see  Brown   (Martha  and 

Tabby),  Garrs  (Nancy  and  Sarah) 
Ellen  Nussey's  Impressions  of  him,  i.  xo*- 

106 


INDEX 


469 


'The  Father  of  the  Brontes'  by  W.  W. 

Yates,  i.  26,  52 
Books  in  his  Library,  i.  27-28 
His  Pseudonym  'Sydney,'  i.  26 
His  Contributions  to  the  Leeds  Mercury, 

i.  26,  31 

<Bronte"ana'  (Collected  Writings  of  Rev. 
P.  Bronte)  by  J.  Horsfall  Turner,  i.  22, 
30-31 
His  Letters  to  Mrs.  J.  C.  Franks,  ii.  417, 

419-421  } 

His   Letter   to    Rev.    J.   C.   Franks,   ii.   • 
422  i 

His  Letters  to  Mrs,  Nunn,  ii.  404-406 
His  Death,  1861,  ii.  393 
His  Will,  ii.  394 
Other  References,  ii.  3,  441 
Bronte',  Mrs.  Patrick  (Maria  Branwell) : 
Her  Letters  to  Mr.  Bronte,  i.  19,  28-29, 

33-48;  ii.  115 
Her  Marriage,  i.  27,  32,  48 
Her  Children  born  at  Hartshead,  i.  49,  53  ; 

and  at  Thornton,  i.  53-54 
Mrs.  Gaskell's  Silk  Gown  Story,  i.  58 
Her  Copy  of  the  '  Imitation,'  i.  27-28 
Her  Essay  on  Poverty  in  Religious  Con- 
cerns, i.  29 ;  ii.  407-409 
Her  Death,  1821,  i.  54 
Other  Reference,  i.  32 
Bronte  Museum  at  Haworth,  i.  18,  89 
'Bronteana'    (Collected  Writings  of   Rev. 
Patrick  Bronte')  by  J.  Horsfall  Turner,  i. 
22,  30-31 

Brooke,  Mrs.,  i.  192,  194 
Brooke,  Leah  and  Maria,  i.  112 
Brookes,  W.f  i.  52 
Brookfield,  Mr.,  ii.  92 
Brookfield,  Mrs.,  i.  3 ;  ii.  94 
Brookroyd:    Home   of  Ellen   Nussey,  see 

Nussey  (Ellen) 

Brougham,  First  Lord,  i.  114 
Brougham's  (John)  Dramatisation  of  '  Jane 

Eyre,'  i.  394 
Broughton-in-Furness :     Branwell     Bronte, 

Tutor  at  Mr.  Postlethwaite's,  i.  179-181 
Brown,  Martha,  Servant : 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters  to  Her,  ii.  52, 

144,  306 
Other  References,  i.  12,  14,  56,  217 ;  ii.  74, 

236,  393,  394 

Brown's  (Samuel) '  Galileo  Galilei,'  ii.  167 
Brown,  Tabby,  Servant : 
Left  the  Bronte's,  i.  172,  217 
Returned  to  the  Bronte's,  i.  305 
Her  Death,  ii,  386,  389 
Other  References,  i.  102,  106,  144,  145, 

151 ;  ii.  74,  236 
Browning,  Mrs.,  ii.  117 
Brunty,  Hugh,  and  His  Family,  i.  22 
Brussels : 
Charlotte   Bronx's  First  Sojourn  at  the 

Pensionnat  H£ger,  i.  229-253 
Charlotte    Bronte's   Second    Sojourn  at 

Brussels,  i.  254-274 

Charlotte's  Life  at  Brussels  mirrored  in 
'Villette'   and    'The    Professor,'   see 
« Villette '  and  '  Professor  (The) ' 
Ste.  Gudule,  i.  270 ;  ii.  302 


Bryce,  Rev.  Mr., 

His  Proposal   of   Marriage  to  Charlotte 
Bronte,  i.  163-165 

His  Death,  i.  175 
Buckmaster,     Rev.     J.,     i.     25,     26-27, 

115 

Burder,  Mary,  i.  25,  68 
Burlington,  i,  214;  ii.  302 
Burnet,  Rev.  Dr.,  ii.  393 
Burnett,  Miss,  ii.  293 
*  Burns,  Helen,'  in  'Jane  Eyre,'  L  363 
Burns,  Robert,  i.  in  ;  ii.  37 
Burton,  Agnes,  i.  171 
Busfeild,  Mrs.,  i.  282,  283 
Byron,  Lord,  i.  in,  413 

CARLISLE,  Earl  of,  ii.  213,  214,  217 
Carlyle,  Thomas, 

J.  A.  Fronde's  '  Life,'  i.  15 

At  Rawdon,  i.  202 

Other  References,  i.  424;  ii.  40,  44,  94, 

443 

Carlyle,  Mrs.,  i.  202  ;  ii.  94 
Carter,  Anne,  i.  143,  159,  173 
Cartman,  Rev.  Dr.,  ii.  393 
Cartwright,  Mr.,  'Mr.  Moore1  in  'Shirley,' 

ii.  105 

Cartwright' s  Mill  burnt,  i.  17 
Casterton:  The  Clergy  Daughters'  School, 

see  Clergy  Daughters'  School 
Catholic    Church,   Charlotte   Bronte  on,   i. 

232,  237,  239,  270;  ii.  219-220,  221,  227, 

3*5-3l6 
'Challenge   of  the   Brontes'   by   Edmund 

Gosse,  i.  117 
Chambers,  Messrs.,  318 
Chambers' s  Journal,  i.  327,  405,  433 ;  ii.  41 
Chapham,  Mrs,,  i.  448 
Chapelle,  M.,  i.  259,  263 
Chapter  Coffee-House,   London,  i.  9,  259, 

436  ;  ii-  397 
Chorley,  H.  F. ,  ii.  100 
Christian  Remembrancer: 

On  'Jane  Eyre/  i.  399 

Miss  A.  Mozley  on  '  Villette,'  ii.  331;  and 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Reply,  ii.  332 

Other  References,  ii.  37,  315 
Church  of  England,  Charlotte  Bronte  on,  i. 

377 ;  ii.  182,  316 

Church  of  England  Journal,  i.  377 
Church  of  En  gland ^  Quarterly  Review  : 

On  'Jane  Eyre,'  i.  404 

On  '  Shirley,1  ii.  103 
Clapham,  Mr.,  ii.  65,  377,  385 
Clapham,  Mrs.  (Ann  Nussey),  ii.  377;  and 

Charlotte  Bronte's  Letter  to  her,  ii.  385 
Clapham,  H.,  ii.  8 

Clapham,  Mrs.  H.  (Mary  Robinson),  ii.  8 
Clergy  Daughters'  School,  first  at  Cowan. 
Bridge  and  later  at  Casterton : 

Maria  and  Elizabeth  Bronte',  Pupils,  i. 
68-70 

Charlotte  Bronte',  Pupil,  i.  69-70 

Emily  Bronte',  Pupil,  i.  69-70 ;  ii.  i 

The  Cowan  Bridge  ('Lowood'  in  'Jane 
Eyre')  Controversy,  i,  13,  69,  384;  ii. 
424-426 


470 


THE  BRONTES 


Rev.   A.  M.  Mackay  on  the  Brontes  at 

Cowan  Bridge,  i,  69 ;  ii.  424-426 
Other  References,  i.  448 ;  ii.  411 
Cockhill,  Miss,  ii.  352 
Colburn,  Mr. ,  ii.  172 
Colburrfs  New  Monthly  Magazine,  i.  326 
Coleridge,  Hartley,  and  Branwell  Bronte's 

Letters  to  him,  i.  181-183 
Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor,  i.  381 
Colin,  M. ,  on  Prof.  H£ger,  i.  258 
Collins,  Mr.,  on  the  Dissenters,  i.  177 
Cornthwaite,  Mary,  and  the  Kendal  Guar- 
dians, ii.  427-429 
Cottage  Magazine:    Rev.    Patrick    Bronte" s 

Contributions,  i.  26,  31 
Courier,  ii.  130 

Cowan    Bridge :    The    Clergy    Daughters' 
School   (later  at    Casterton),   see  Clergy 
Daughters5  School 
Cowper,  William,  i.  25,  118 
Craik,  Mrs.  (Miss  Mulock),  ii.  317 
1  Crims worth,  Mr.,'  in   'The  Professor,'  i. 

231 

Critic: 
On  Poems  by  Currer,   Ellis,  and  Acton 

Bell,  i.  327 

On  '  Shirley,'  ii.  85,86 
Other   References,    i.    361,  364;   ii.    31, 

312 

Crosse,  Rev.  John,  of  Bradford,  i.  27,  50 
Crosstone,  i.  77 
Crowe,  Mrs.,  ii.  94,  147 
Crystal  Palace  in  Hyde  Park,  see  Exhibi- 
tion 

Curates  at  Haworth,  see  De  Renzi  (Rev. 
Mr.),  Hodgson  (Rev.  Mr.),  Nicholls  (Rev. 
A.  B.),  Smith  (Rev.  J.  W.),  Weightman 
(Rev.  W.) 
Curie,  Dr. ,  ii.  9 

Daily  News : 

Letters  on  Cowan  Bridge,  i.  13 
Harriet  Martineau on  'Shirley/  ii,  78,  81, 

82,  305 
Harriet  Martineau  on  '  Villette,'  ii.  309 

Davenport,  Mrs.,  ii.  221,  222 

Davy,  Miss  Mildred,  i.  25 

Dearden,  Newman,  i,  451 

Dearden,  William,    on    Patrick   Bronte,  i, 

55-6i 
De  Quincey,  Thomas,  and  Charlotte  Bronte"s 

Letter  to  Him,  with  *  Poems '  by  Currer, 

Ellis,  and  Acton  Bell,  i.  329 
De  Renzi,  Rev.  Mr.,  Curate  at  Haworth,  ii. 

342,  3S9»  36*.  362 

Devonshire,  Duke  of  (Dec.  1847),  i.  371 
Dewsbury :  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte's  Curacy,  i. 

25-27 
Dewsbury  Moor  School :  Charlotte  Bronte", 

Governess,  i.  79,  137-148 
Dickens,  Charles, 

'David  Copper  field,'  ii.  71 

Other  References,  i.    290,  361  j    ii.  333, 

443 

Dickinson,  Lowes,  i,  382 ;  ii.  293 
'  Dictionary  of  National  Biography '  on  the 

Brontes,  ii.  364,  411 
Dilke,  Mr.,  of  the  Athenaumt  \,  383  ;  ii.  92 


Dissenters  at  Haworth,  i.  177-178 
Dixon  Family  at  Brussels,  i.  258 
Dixon,  Mary,  i.  244,  272 
Dixon,  George,  i.  272 
Dixon,  Miss,  of  Dublin,  ii.  280 
Dobell,  Sydney, 
On  Charlotte  Bronte  and  her  Sisters,  ii. 

167,  169,  170,  183 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters  to  him,  ii.  183, 

209,  345 

'  Balder, }  ii.  345-34.6 
Other  References,  ii.  2,  209,  211 
Dobell,  Mrs.,  ii.  209 
Dogs : 

'Keeper,'  i.  67,  105,  213,  216,  217,  305; 

ii.  13.  IS.  53.  240,  338 
'Flossie,'  i.  105,  278,  305;  ii.  13,  53,  383 
'  Tiger, '  i.  305 

'Flossie,  Jun.,'i.  278,  282,  311 ;  ii.  202,  207 
'Donne,  Mr.'  (Rev.  J.  B.  Grant),  in  *  Shirley,' 

ii«  37,  56,  124 

Douglas  Jerrolas  Shilling  Magazine^  i,  326 
Douglas  Jerr old's  Weekly  Newspaper,  i.  368 
Douro,  Marquis  of,  Hero  of  Stories,  i.  71-72, 

76-77;  11.430,431,432 
Drumballyroney.  Ireland,  i.  22 
Drury,  Rev.  Mr.,  i.  258 
Dublin  Review  on  'Shirley,'  ii.  126 
Dublin  University  Magazine  : 
Currer  Bell's  Letter  to  the  Editor,  i,  328 
On  'Jane  Eyre,'  i.  413-414 
Other  References,  i.  361,  366 
Dury,  Caroline,  i.  189,  199 

EARNLEY  :  Rev.  Henry  Nussey,  Rector,  i. 

150,  200 
Eastlake,     Lady   (Miss    Rigby),  on    'Jnne 

Eyre,'  ii.  4,  17,  18,  25,  31,  64,  67-68,  71, 73, 

92 
Easton:  Charlotte  Bronte's  Visit,  i.  167-170, 

171,  290 

Eckermann's  '  Goethe,'  ii.  71,  82 
Eclectic,  ii.  209 
Economist: 

On  4  Jane  Eyre,'  ii.  64 

Other  References,  i.  368 ;  ii.  83,  8« 
Edinburgh  :  Charlotte  Bronte's  Visit,  1850, 

ii,  145-148,  150,  160,  168 
Edinburgh  Guardian^  ii.  344 
Edinburgh  Review  : 

G,  H.  Lewes's  Article  on  'Shirley,'  ii.  106, 
126 

Other  References,  i.  326,  377 
Eliot's  (George)  '  Romola,'  ii.  303 
Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  ii,  228,  260 
Ellesmerf;,  Earl  of,  ii.  sm 
Elliott,  Mrs.,  ii.  94 
'  Emamiel,  Paul '(Prof.  Hdger),  in « Villette/ 

see  '  Villette ' 
Emdale,  Ireland :  Birthplace  of  Rev.  Patrick 

Bronte*,  i.  22 
Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  i,  444,  458 ;  ii.  34, 

122 

English  Churchman^  ii.  315 
'  English  Life  in  the  Nineteenth  Century*  by 

Mrs.  Whately,  ii.  71,  83 
Epps,  DrM  ii.  n 
'Esmond'  byThackeray,  see  underThackeray 


INDEX 


471 


Examiner: 

Letter  of  W.  Dearden,  i.  55-61 

On  *  Jane  Eyre, '  i.  369 

On  'Shirley,'  ii.  81,  83,  84 

Other  References,  i.  327,  399,  442,  446  ;  ii. 

130,  149,  186,  192,  229,  307 
Exhibition  of  1851,  ii.  190,  212-215,  2l8»  22I» 

224,  252 

Eyton,  Rev.  John,  i.  25 
Eyton,  Robert  William,  i.  25 

•FANSHAWE,    Gineyra'  (Maria  Miller),   in 

'Villette/  i.  233;  ii.  283 
'Father  of  the  Brontes'  by  W.  W.  Yates, 

i.  26,  52 

Federer,  Charles  A. ,  quoted,  i.  27,  33 
Fennell,    Miss   Jane,    see    Morgan    (Mrs. 

William) 

Fennell,  Rev.  John, 
Headmaster  of  Woodhouse  Grove  School, 

i.  27,  202 

Curate  at  Bradford,  i.  27 
Oiher  References,  i.  32,33,  38, 39,  40,  50,  77 
Ferrand,  Busfeild  and  Mrs.,  ii.  163 
Field,  Mr.,  ii.  393 

Fielding,  Henry,  i.  378,  387 ;  ii.  322,  325-326 
Filey  :  Charlotte  Bronte's  Visit,  ii.  266 
Firth,  Miss  Elizabeth,  see  Franks  (Mrs.  J.  C.) 
Firth,  John,  of  Kipping  House,  i.  49,  54 ; 

ii.  411 

Fletcher,  Rev.  John,  i.  50 
Fletcher,  Kirs.,  of  Madeley,  i.  50 
Flossie  (Dog),  see  Dogs 
Fonblanque,  Albany, 
On  'Shirley,'  ii.  81,  84 
Other  References,  i.  372,  432 
Forbes,  Dr.,  ii.  23,  33,  45,  126,  213,  214,  306 
Forcade,  Eugene, 
On  'Jane  Eyre,'  i.  462 
On  'Shirley/  ii.  87,  88 
Forshaw,  Charles,  i.  52 
Forster,  W,  E. ,  i.  202 ;  ii.  280 
Forster,  Mrs.,  ii.  236,  237,  280 
Fox  How :  Residence  of  Mrs.  Arnold,  ii.  163, 

t8i 

France : 

Mirabeau,  i.  424-425  »'  "'•  435)  437 
Abdication  of  Louis  Philippe  and  Republic 

established,  i.  397-399,  401,  405 
Napoleon,  i.  399 
Franks,  H.  E, ,  ii.  410,  417 
Franks,  Rev.  James  Clarke, 
His  Marriage,  ii.  411 
Rev.  Patrick  Bronte's  Letter  to  Him,  ii. 

422 

Other  Reference,  i.  51 
Franks,  Mrs.  J,  C.  (Miss  Elizabeth  Firth) : 
Rev.  Patrick  Brontes  Sweetheart,  i,  68 ; 

ii.  411 

Her  Marriage,  ii.  4x1 
Her   Diary  relating   to   the   Bronte's   at 

Thornton,  i.  54,  61 ;  ii,  410-423 
Rev.  Patrick  Bronte"s  Letters  to  Her,  ii, 

417, 419-421 
Charlotte  Bronte"s  Letters  to  Her,  i.  83 ; 

ii.  418 

Other  References,  i.  49,  51,  68,  83 
Fraser ,  Mrs, ,  at  Roe  Head,  i.  51 


Fraser,  Miss  Lucy  Ethel,  i.  51 

Eraser's  Magazine  : 
Article  on  Charlotte  Bronte,  i.  ii 
G.  H.  Lewes  on  '  Jane  Eyre/  i.  364,  372, 

Other  References,  i.  83,  327,  365,  384 
Free  Lance  :  Article  on  Charlotte  Bronte  by 

J.  S.  Smith,  ii.  435-444 
1  Frost,  Miss/  changed  to  '  Lucy  Snowe  '  in 

'  Villette/  ii.  284,  286 
Froude's  (J.  A.)  '  Carlyle/  i.  15 

GARRS,  Nancy  and  Sarah,  Servants,  i.  12, 

56-60 

Gaskell,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Cleghora, 
Her  Home,  Plymouth  Grove,  Manchester, 

ii.  319 

'  Cranford/  i.  i ;  ii.  319,  331 
1  Mary  Barton/  ii.  23,  319 
'  Ruth/  ii.  263,  300,  301,  319 
'The  Moorland  Cottage/  ii.  188 
'  North  and  South/  ii.  384 
Her  Publisher,  ii.  172 
Complete  Editions  of  her  Works,  ii.  319 
G.  H.  Lewes' s  Letter  to  her,  i.  364 
Her  Meeting  with  Charlotte  Bronte,  1850, 

i.  3;  ii.  160 
Her  Friendship  with  Charlotte  Bronte',  i. 

3  ;  ii.  160-165,  319 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Visit  to  her,   1851,  ii. 

223. 

Charlotte   Bronte's  Visit  to  her,  1853,  ii. 
320 ;  and  Mrs.  GaskeU's  Impressions,  ii. 
321-323 
Her  Visit  to  Haworth,  1853,  ii.  336 ;  and 

her  Impressions  of  the  Visit,  ii.  336-341 
Her  Letters  to  Charlotte  Bronte,  ii.  86,  90 
Charlottes   Letters   to  her,  ii.  163,   165, 
184,   226-229,  232,  237,  248,   263,  300, 
3*0,  317,  325.  328,  33*»  335.  375 
Her  '  Life  of  Charlotte  Bronte/  i.  1-18 
Her  Friendship  with  Ellen  Nussey,  i.  4-10 
Her  Letters  to  Ellen  Nussey,  i.  4  ;  ii.  396 
Ellen  Nussey's  Letters  to  her,  i.  7,  9,  12 
Mary  Taylor's  Letters  to  her,  i.  16,  79-83, 

117,  247 

Her  Letters  to  W.  S,  Williams,  ii.  293 
Opinions  on  the  '  Life/  i.  10,  16,  17 
Charles  Kingsley's  Letter  to  her,  i.  10 
Her    Misrepresentation    of   Rev.   Patrick 

Bronte,  i.  ii,  ax,  55-61 
The  Branwell  Bronte'  and  Mrs.  Robinson 

Incident,  i.  13-15 

Her  Apology  to  Mrs.  Robinson,  i.  321-323 
The  Cowan  Bridge  Controversy,  i.  13 
On  Rev.  A,  B.  Nicholls,  i.  ii ;  ii.  292-293 
The  'Life'  quoted  or  referred  to,  i.  65, 
68,  69,  78,  117,  126, 158,  183,  259,  358 ; 

1L  2,  15,  52,  l6l,    176,  2X6,  321-323,  336- 

341,  363-364,  390,  397,  398,  401,  402, 
410 

Her  Letters  to  a  Friend,  ii.  161,  336^ 
Letter  of  a  Friend  to  Mrs.  Gaskell,  ii.  176 
Her  Death,  i.  8 

Other  References,  i.  381 ;  ii.  236,  309 
Gaskell,  Miss  Julia,  ii.  233,  331 
Gaskell,  Miss  Marianne,  ii.  233 
Gaskell,  Miss  Meta,  i.  8 ;  ii.  227,  233 


472 


THE  BRONTES 


Gaskell's  (Rev.  W.)  Letter  to  Ellen  Nussey, 

ii.  401 

Gawthorpe  Hall :  Residence  of  Sir  J,  Kay- 
Shuttle  worth,  ii,  118 

Geller,  Artist,  i.  149 

Gentleman's  Magazine  quoted,  i.  48 

Germ,  i.  320 

Glade,  Mrs.,  203 

Glasgow  Examiner^  i.  368 

Glenelg,  Lord,  ii.  221,  222 

Globe,  i.  327 ;  ii.  83 

Godwin,  William,  ii.  44 

Goethe,  ii.  69,  71,  82,  92 

'Gondaland  Chronicles/  i.  215,  216,   217, 

3°S.  307 

Gore's  (Mrs.)  'The  Hamiltons,'  ii.  150 
Gorham,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  i.  441 
Gorham,  Mary,  i.  300,  440  ;  ii,  63,  257,  265, 

276 
Gosse's  (Edmund)   'The  Challenge  of  the 

Brontes,'  i.  117 
Governesses,  Charlotte  Bronte  on,  i.   416, 

418,  423  ;  ii.  58-59 

Grant,  Rev,  Jos.  Brett,  of  Haworth  Grammar 
School : 

'Mr.  Donne'  in  'Shirley,1  ii.  37,  56,  124 

Other  References,  i.  284 ;  ii.  378 
Greenwood,  J.,  of  Swarcliffe,  i.  159-162 
Greenwood,  John,  of  Haworth,  ii.  131,  135, 

146,  293 

Grenfell,  Miss  Lydia,  i.  150 
Grimshaw,  Rev.  William,  and  Haworth,  i. 

63-65 

Grundy,  Francis  H. , 
His  Book  '  Pictures  of  the  Past,'  i.  241, 

45I-452 
Bran  well  Bronte's  Letters  to  him,  i.  241- 

243,  294-298 

Guardian  on  '  Villette/  ii.  312,  315 
Guiseley  Church :  Marriages  of  Rev.  Patrick 
Bronte  and  Rev.  William  Morgan,  i.  32, 48 
Guizot,  M.,  i.  397-399 

Gulston's(Josepha) '  The  School  for  Fathers/ 
ii.  261 

HALIFAX  :    Law   Hill  ^  School   and   Emily 

Bronte  as  Teacher,  i.   10,   138-139,   149; 

ii.  2 
Halifax  Guardian  ; 

Letters  to  A.  B.  Nicholls  on  the  Cowan 
Bridge  Controversy,  i.  13 

Newman    Dearden's   'Facts'    concerning 

Bran  well  Bronte,  i.  451 
'Hall,  Rev.  Cyril'  (Rev.  W.  M,  Heald),  in 

'Shirley/  i.  138  ;  ii.  73,  104 
Hall,  Dr.  John,  ii.  410 
Hallam,  Arthur,  ii.  164 
HallS,  Sir  Charles,  ii.  157 
Hardy,  Mr. ,  i.  40 

Harems  (J.  C.)  'Guesses  at  Truth/  ii.  71,  82 
Harris,  Alexander, 

'Testimony  to  the  Truth  of  Christianity/ 
ii.  24,  40,  43 

'The  Emigrant  Family/  ii,  40,  43 

Other  References,  i.  461 ;  ii.  48 
Harrison,  Mr.,  i.  115 
Hartshead:  Rev,  Patrick  Bronte"s  Curacy, 

i.  27.  48 


Hathersage : 

Rev.  Henry  Nussey,  Rector,  i.  150 
Visit  of  Charlotte  Bronte,  i.  303 
Hausse",  Mdlle. ,  '  Horteuse  Moore '  in  *  Shir- 
ley, '  ii.  104 
Haworth : 

J.  H.  Turner's  'Haworth/  i.  66 
The  Census,  etc.,  in  1828,  i,  63 
The  Village  in  1848,  i.  64 
The  People,  i.  ii 

Visits  of  John  Wesley  and  George  White- 
field,  i.  64 

Dissenters,  i.  177-178 
The  '  Black  Bull'  Inn,  i.  63 
The  BrontS  Museum,  i.  18,  89 
Rev.  W.  Grimshaw,  Incumbent,  i.  63,  65 
Rev.  Patrick  Bronte,  Incumbent,  i.  54,  62 
Death  of  Mr.  Bronte',  ii.  393 
Curates,  see  Curates 
Other  References,  ii.  176,  337,  438 
'  Haworth  Churchyard ' ;  Poem  by  Matthew 

Arnold,  ii,  2 
'  Haworth— Past  and  Present '  by  J.  Horsfall 

Turner,  i.  66 

Hawthorne's  (N.) '  The  Marble  Faun/  ii.  302 
Hazlitt,  William,  i.  381 ;  ii.  122 
Heald,  Rev.  W.  M., 
'Cyril  Hall1  in  'Shirley/  5.  138;  ii.  73, 

104 

His  Letter  to  Ellen  Nussey,  ii.  104 
His  Resignation,  ii.  376 
Heald,  Miss,  i.  460 

Heald's  House,  Dewsbury  Moor,  i.  137 
Heap,  Rev.  R.  H.,  i,  51 
Heap,  Mrs.  i.  194 
'Heathcliff,  Mr./  in  'Watering  Heights/ 

i.  446 
Hebden  Bridge :  Rev.  G.  Sowden,  Vicar,  ii, 

364,  380,  393 
H<5ger,  Prof.  Constantin, 
Charlotte   Bronte's  Relations  with  Prof. 

He*ger,  i.  254-257,  268,  272,  380 
His  Letter  to  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte,  i.  248 
1  Paul  Emanuel1  in  'Villette/  i.  254-255 
His  Death,  i.  257 
M.  Colin's  Obituary  Notice,  i.  258 
Other  References,  i.  9,  to,  231-,  233,  238, 

262,  266,  277 ;  ii,  397 
He*ger,   Madame,  and  Hor  Pcnsionn.it  at 

Brussels : 
Charlotte  and  Emily  Bronte,   Pupils,  i, 

229-239 ;  ii.  2 

Charlotte  Bronte,  Teacher,  i,  254-274 
'  Madame  Beck '  in  '  Villette/  i,  356 
'Mdlle.  Zorai'de  Renter/  i.  256 
Her  Death,  i.  257 
Other  References,  i.  9,  233,  237,  239,  355, 

260,  262,  268,  272,  273 ;  ii,  397,  402. 
He"ger,  Dr.,  i.  20 
Hcger,  Mdlle,  Louise,  i.  233 
Heine,  ii,  92 

Helps's  (Sir  A.) '  Friends  in  Council/  ii.  73, 8a 
'Helstone,  Mr/  (Mr.  Roberson?),  in  'Shir- 
ley/ 1.91,  95;  ii.  73,78,  xos 
Heptonstall  Church,  ii.  378 
Herschel,  Sir  John,  i.  372  ;  ii  87* 
Hewitt,  Mrs,  ii.  379*  383,  384,  389 
Heywood,  Oliver,  Royalist,  i*  53 ;  ii,  410 


INDEX 


473 


Hodgson,  Rev.  Mr.,  Curate,  i.  165 

Hogg,  James,  i.  132,  133 

Homoeopathy,  i.  463;  ii,  9,  10-11,  43 

flood's  Magazine,  i,  326. 

Horace  translated  by  Branwell  Bronte,  i. 

182-183 
Horne,  R.  H., 

His  Poem  '  Orion,'  i.  372,  375-376 

Charlotte  Bronte's  Letter  to  Him,  i.  375 

Other  Reference,  ii.  182 
Hornsea,  ii.  342,  345 
Houghton,  Lord  (R.  Monckton  Milnes),  i. 

202  ;  ii.  94,  213,  214,  217,  221 
Howitt,  Mary,  ii.  38 
Howitt,  William,  on  '  Shirley,'  ii.  83,  84 
Hudson,  John  and  Mrs.,  of  Easton,  i.  167- 

168,  171,  290;  ii.  268 
Hulcott:    Rev.    William   Morgan,    Rector, 

i.  50 

Huliby,  Brooke  &  Co.,  i.  112 
Humboldt's  Letters,  ii.  in 
Hunsworth :  Home  of  Joseph  Taylor,  i.  312 
'  Huntingdon,  Mr.,'  i.  446 
Hunt,  Leigh, 

'The  Town,'  ii.  44 

Other  References,  i.  372,  381,  383 
Hyde,  Dr.  D. ,  on  the  Bronte  Name,  i.  23 

ILKLEY,  ii.  334 

Illustrated  London  News,  ii.  104 

4  Imitation '  of  Thomas  a  Kempis,  i.  27-28, 

7* 

'In  Memoriam'  by  Tennyson,  ii.  164 
Ingham,  Mrs.,  of  Blake  Hall,  154-155, 174 
Ireland : 

Home  of  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte',  i.  22 
Home  of  Rev.  A.  B,  Nicholls,  ii.  293,  392 

JAMES,  John,  i.  149 
*  Jane  Eyre ' : 

Begun  at  Manchester,  i.  358 

'  Read*  by  W.  S.  Williams,  i.  382 

Publication  by  Messrs.   Smith,   Elder  & 
Co.,  Oct.  1847,  i.  259-360 

Second  Edition  dedicated  to  Thackeray, 
i-  389,  390 ;  ii.  31,  91-92 

One-Volume  Edition,  ii.  134 

The  Question  of  Illustrations,  i.  401-402 

Dramatic  Versions,  i.  394-395 

'  Persons  and  Places  in  "Jane  Eyre"  '  by 
H.  E.  Wroot,  i.  157 

Character  of '  Jane  Eyre/  ii.  339 

'  Rebecca  Sharp'  and  'Jane  Eyre,1  i.  379 

'  Mr.  Rochester,'  i.  390,  394,  404,  446 

4  Mrs,  Rochester,'  i.  384 

"Miss Temple, 'i.  384 


'Brockle- 
hurst,'  i,  13,  69,  384;  ii.  424-426 

Cowan  Bridge  ('Lowood')  Controversy, 
i.  13.  69»  384 1  »•  424-426 

Rydings  and  Norton  Conyers  as  *  Thorn- 
field  Hall,'  i.  96,  162 

Story  of  Mad  Woman  at  Norton  Conyers 
utilised,  i.  162 

Its  Reception  in  Yorkshire,  i.  384;  ii.  78, 
us,  1x7,  xaSi  125,  131 


Article  by  Miss  Rigby  (Lady  Eastlake)  in 
the  Quarterly  Review,  ii.  4,  17,  18,  25, 
31,  64,  67-68,  71,  73 
A  Word  to  the  Quarterly,  ii.  67-68 
Article  on,  in  Sharpe's  Magazine,  June 

1885,  i.  5,  6 

Other  Press  Opinions,  i.  360-370,  372-379, 
383-384,  386,  388,  399,  404,  413-414,  415, 
455,  462,  464 ;  ii.  63,  64,  92,  167 
G.  H.  Lewes  on,  i.  366-368,  372,  386 
W.  M,  Thackeray  on,  i.  362-363 
Mary  Taylor  on,  i.  431 ;  ii.  153 
Other  References,  i.  418,  431,  435-436 ;  ii. 

78,  83,  115,  436 
Jannpy,  Hortense,  i.  267 
Jenkins,  Rev.  Mr.,  at  Brussels,  i.  224,  227, 
229-230,  258 
enkins,  Mrs.,  i.  220,  227 
'errold,  Douglas,  i.  326,  368 
jewsbury,  Miss  Geraldine,  ii.  147,  438 
'John,  Dr.*  (George  Smith),  in  '  Villette.'ii. 

95,  283-284,  397 
John.  Bull)  i.  440 

Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  i.  i,  82,  in  ;  ii.  59 
Journal  of  Education  quoted,  i.  69 

KAVANAGH,  Miss  Julia, 
Note,  i.  393 
Her  Resemblance  to   Martha  Taylor,  ii. 

143 

1  Madeline,'  i.  462,  464 ;  ii.  24 
1  The  Women  of  Christianity,'  ii.  259,  260 
Her  Meeting  with  Charlotte  Bronte,  ii.  143 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Letter  to  her,  i.  393 
Other  References,  i.  383,  389,  405  ;  ii.  143, 

168,  172,  182 

Kay-Shuttle  worth,  Sir  James, 
Note,  ii.  40 

Illness,  1850,  ii.  136-137 
Charlotte   Bronte's   Visit   to  Gawthorpe, 

1850,  i.  3;  ii.  60,  118-119,  120;  and  her 

Visit  to  the  Lakes,  1850,  ii.  152, 160-169, 

185,  186 
His  Offer  of  the  Living  of  Padiham  to  Rev. 

A.  B.  Nicholls,  ii.  380,  382,  384 
On    Mrs.    Gaskell's    'Life    of   Charlotte 

Bronte,'  i.  10 ;  ii.  402 
Other  References,  i.  3 ;  ii.  107,  109,  117, 

Il8,    128,     135,    140,    158,    220,    221,    222, 

299,  306 

Kay-Shuttlewprth,  Lady,  ii.  117,  121,  141 
Keats,  John,  i,  381 
'Keeldar,     Shirley'     (Emily     Bronte),     in 

'  Shirley,'  ii.  56,  338 
Keeper  (Dog),  see  Dogs 
Kempis's  (Thomas  a)  'Imitation,'  i.  27-28, 

71 
Kendal  Guardians  and  the  Rev,  W.  Cams 

Wilson,  ii.  427-429 
Kingsley,  Charles, 

'  The  Saint's  Tragedy/  ii.  228 

On  Charlotte  Bronte,  i.  10 
Kingston,  Anne,  i.  245 
Kingston,  Elizabeth^  Jane,  i.  245 
Kipping  Chapel,  Thornton,  i.  53 
Kipping  House,  Thornton,  i.  49,  53  \  "•  4*o 
Kirk-Smeaton:  Rev.  A.  B.  Nicholls,  Curate, 

ii.  342 


474 


THE  BRONTES 


Knoll,  Ambleside:  Home  of  Harriet  Mar- 
tineau, ii.  184 
Knowles,  Sheridan,  ii.  112 

Ladies'  Magazine,  i,  184 

Lake   District;    Charlotte  Bronte's  Visits, 

1850,  ii,  152,  160-169 
Lamartine,  i.  402,  405 ;  ii.  328 
Lamb,  Charles  and  Mary,  i.  449 
Lancaster    Guardian    on    Rev.    W.   Cams 

Wilson,  ii.  427-429 
Law  Hill  School,  Halifax:   Emily  Bronte, 

Teacher,  i.  10,  138-139,  149  ;  ii.  2 
Lawrence's  Portrait  of  Thackeray,  ii.  91, 309- 

310 

Lawry,  Mrs.,  of  Muswell  Hill,  i.  20 
Leader,  ii.  131,  137,  189,  192,  193,  197,  229, 

288 

Lee,  P.  F. ,  ii.  302 
Leeds  Intelligencer:  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte's 

Contributions,  i.  31 

Leeds  Mercury :  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte's  Con- 
tributions, i.  26,  31 
Lester,  Joseph  and  Accepted,  i.  53 
Lewes,  George  Henry, 

His  Resemblance  to  Emily  Bronte",  ii.  143 

1  Ranthorpe,'  i.  367,  387,  404,  409 

•Rose,  Blanche,  and  Violet,'  i.  409 

His  Letter  to  Mrs.  Gaskell,  i.  364 

Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters  to  Lewes,  i. 
365,  367,  386-388 ;  ii.  79,  106-107,  175 

Charlotte  Bronte  on  Lewes,  i.  366-368, 372, 
387,  409-413  J  "•  40.  106,  143 

On  '  Jane  Eyre,'  i.  364,  386 

On  'Shirley,'  ii.  78,  106,  126 

Other  References,  i.  377,  383,  384;  ii,  137 
Leyiand,  Sculptor,  i.  149 
Leyland's  (Francis  A.)  '  The  Bronte  Family,' 

i.  14,  18,  149,  181,  451 
Lille,  i.  227-229 
Lind,  Jenny,  ii.  182 
Linton,  Mrs.  Lynn  (Eliza  Lynn),  i.  464;  ii. 

10 

Lister's  (Joseph)  Autobiography,  ii.  410 
'  Literary  Anecdotes,'  ii.  430 
Literary  Gazette,  i.  362 ;  ii.  307 
'  Literary  Shrines  of  Yorkshire '  by  Dr.  J.  A. 

Erskine  Stuart,  i.  96 
Lockhart,  J.  G.,  i.  i,  15,  nr,  329 
Logan,  Dr.  and  Mrs.,  i.  434 
London : 

Leigh  Hunt's  '  The  Town,'  ii.  64 

Trafalgar  Square,  ii.  227 

The  Chapter  Coffee-House,  i.  9,  259,  436 ; 
ii.  397 

The  Exhibition  of  1851,  see  Exhibition 
Longley,  Bishop  C,  T.,  ii.  311 
Louis  Philippe's  Abdication,  i.  397-399 
'Lowood'  (Clergy   Daughters'    School)  in 

'Jane  Eyre,'  see  '  Jane  Eyre1 
Luddenden  Foot,  i.  "216,  296 
Luddite  Movement,  i.  91 
Lutwigge,  Miss  Mary  A. ,  i.  150 
Lynn,  Eliza  (Mrs.  Lyna  Linton),  i,  464;  ii. 

10 

Lyttelton's  (Lord)  '  Advice  to  a  Lady,1  i.  48 
Lytton,  First  Lord,  and  '  The  Caxtons,'  i. 

465;  ii.  83,  85,  in 


'  MACARTHEY,  Mr.1  (Rev.  A.  B.  Nicholls),  in 

'  Shirley,'  ii.  294 
Macaulay's  '  History  of  England,'  ii.  23  ;  and 

'Essays,'  ii.  in 
Macdonald,  Mrs.  Frcderika,  on  the  Brontes 

at  Brussels,  i.  256 
Mackay,  Rev.  Angus  M., 

On  the  Brontes  :  Fact  and  Fiction,  i.  255 

On  the  Bronte  Ancestry,  ii.  5 

On  the  Brontes  at  Cowan  Bridge,  i.  69 ; 

ii.  424-426 

Macmillan,  Messrs. ,  i.  19 
Macmillans    Magazine:     Bronte"    Letters, 

i.  20 

Macready  (Actor),  ii.  117,  211 
MacTurk,  Dr.,  ii.  387 
'Malone,  Mr.'  (Rev.  J.  W.  Smith),  in  'Shir 

ley,'i.  284;  ii.  37,  56,  294 
Manchester :  Plymouth  Grove,  ii.  319 
Manchester  Examiner,  ii.  132 
Mangnall,  Miss  Richrnal,  and  'Mangnall's 

Questions,'  i.  61 ;  ii.  410 
Manners,  Lord  John,  ii.  163,  271 
Marsh,  Mrs.  Anne,  and  '  The  Deformed,'  i. 

361,  363  ',  ii-.  339       . 
Martineau,  Miss  Harriet, 
'Deerbrook,'ii.  98 
'Oliver  Weld'  or  'Edward  Howard,'  ii. 

256 
'  Letters  on  the  Nature  and  Development 

of  Man'  by  Miss  Martineau  and   Mr. 

Atkinson,  ii.  197,  201. 
Her  Meeting  with  Charlotte  Bronte',  Dec. 

1849,  i.  12 ;  ii.  98 
Her  Relations  with  Charlotte  Rronttt,  i.  12; 

ii.  100,  320 
Charlotte's  Visit  to  Her,  1850,  ii,  160,  174, 

182,  184-193 
Charlotte  Bronte  on  Harriet  Martineau,  ii. 

86,  90,  97-98,  103,  186,  303 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Letter  to  her,  ii,  304- 

3°5 

On  'Shirley'  (in  Daily  News),  ii.  78,  81, 
82,  305 

On  '  Villette/  ii.  304-305,  309,  316 

Other  References,  ii.  226,  236,  237,  395 
Martineau,  Rev.  Jamrs,  i.  242 ;  ii.  233 
Martyn,  Henry,  and  '  St.  John  Rivers,'  in 

'Jane  Eyre/  i.  150 
Manuals,  Madame,  i.  227 
Meredith,  George,  i.  381 
Mesmerism,  ii.  192 
Mill,  John  Stuart,  ii.  233 
Miller,  Miss  Maria, 

Pupil  at  the  Pensionnat  Htfarr,  Brussels, 
i.  233 

*Gincvra  Fanshawe'  in  'Villettc,'  i.  233; 

ii.  269 
Mills,    Miss  Susanna,   at   the   Pensionnat 

H6ger,  Brussels,  i.  233 
Milnes,  Richard  Monckton  (Lord  Houghton), 

see  Houghton  (Lord) 
'Mirabeau,'  by  J.  S.  Smith,  i,  434-485 ;  ii* 

43S>  437 
Mirfield;   House  of  Rev.  P»  Atkinson,  i. 

^"S2 

Mirror^  i,  376,  404,  451 
Miry  Shay,  i.  36 


INDEX 


475 


Litton,  MissG.  E.,  i.  157 

Monograph '  by  Sir  T.  W.  Reid,  i.  18,  255 

Montgomery,  James,  i.  241 

Moore,  Mr.'  (Mr.  Cartwright),  in  'Shirley,' 

ii.  105 
Moore,    Hortense*    (Mdlle.    Hausse'),    in 

'Shirley,'  ii.  104 
Morgan,  Rev.  William, 

Friend  of  Patrick  Bronte,  i.  28,  50 

His  Marriage,  i.  28,  32,  48  ;  ii.  413 

Curate  at  Bierley,  i,  48 

At  Bradford  and  Hulcott,  i.  50 

His  Second  and  Third  Wives,  i.  50 

His  Death,  i,  50 

His  Writings,  i.  50 

Branwell  Bronte's  Portrait  of  Him,  i.  149 
Morgan,  Mrs.  (Jane  Fennell),  i.  28,  32,  36, 

48,  50 

vlorley,  Viscount,  i.  19,  381. 
\torning  Advertiser ',  i.  363  ;  ii.  307 
Warning  Chronicle^  i.  415,  420  j  ii.  103 
Morning  Herald^  i.  388,  460;  ii.  85,  315 
Morning  Post)  i.  364 
Mossman,  Miss,  i.  426 
Mozley,  Miss  Anne,   on  'Villette/  ii.   331- 

333 

Mulock,  Miss  D.  M.  (Mrs.  Craik),  ii.  317 
MEiinster,  Countess  (Lady  H.  St.  Clair),  ii. 

317 
Murgatroyds  of  Lee,  i.  66 

NAPOLEON,  i.  399 
National  Gallery,  i.  438 
National  Portrait  Gallery ;  Richmond's  Por- 
trait of  Charlotte  Bronte,  ii.  148,  309 
Nelson,  Lord, 
Southey's  '  Life,'  i.  m 
Duke  of  Bronte",  i.  24 ;  ii.  81 
Newby,  Thomas  Cautley, 
Publisher  of  '  Agnes  Grey '  and  '  Wuther- 
ing  Heights/  i.  360,  367,  375,  389,  395, 
401 ;  ii.  169 
Publisher  of '  The  Tenant  of  Wildfell  Hall,' 

J.  43S-436.  442,  444 
Other  References,  i.  436,  439,  442-443,  446  ; 

it,  10,  76 

Newman,  Cardinal,  ii.  161 
New  Zealand :  Mary  Taylor's  Life,  see  Taylor 

(Mary) 

Newton's  (John)  'William  Grimshaw/  i.  64 
Nicholls,  Rev.  Arthur  Bell, 
Biographical,  ii.  293 
Curate  at  Haworth,  i.  285 ;  ii.  293 
'Mr.  Macarthey'  in  ' Shirley/  ii.  294 
On  '  Shirley ,'ii.  no 

His  Proposal  of  Marriage  to  Charlotte 
Bronte',  ii,  295-296 ;  Mr.  Bronte's  Oppo- 
3ition,  ii.  295-298,  313 ;  and  Charlotte's 
Refusal,  ii.  296 

Testimonial  from  Haworth,  ii.  324, 327 
Leave-taking,  ii.  327 
Curate  at  Kirk-Smeaton,  ii.  342 
His  Visits  to  Haworth,  ii.  352,  3&3>  354 
Correspondence  with  Charlotte,  ii.  354 
Mr.  Bronte"  s  Consent  to  the  Marriage,  ii. 

3S4"357 
Curacy  at  Haworth  resumed,  ii.  354-357 

Illness,  ii.  360 


His  Marriage,  ii.  364 

Honeymoon  in  Ireland,  ii.  365 

Married  Life,  ii.  366-390 

His  Health,  ii.  367,  375 

Declined  Offer  of  the  Living  of  Padiham, 

ii.  380,  386 

Death  of  Charlotte,  1855,  ii.  390-392 
Death  of  Mr.  Bronte,  1861,  ii.  393-394 
His  Return  to  Banagher,  ii.  392 
His  Marriage  to  Miss  Bell,  ii.  392 
His  Death,  ii.  393 
Charlotte  Bronte  on  Mr.  Nicholls,  i.  285, 

333-  35^5  ii-  294*  3ii»  3*3'  323-324.  3^5. 

367,  37S»  389 
Mrs.  Gaskell  on  Mr.   Nicholls    and   his 

Marriage,  i.  ii ;  ii.  292-293 
His  Attitude  to  Mrs.  Gaskell°s  'Life  of 

Charlotte  Bronte/  i.  2-7 ;  ii.  397,  398 
On   the   Cowan  Bridge   Controversy,  i. 

13-14 
Ellen  Nussey's  Letters  to  Mr.  Nicholls, 

*•  5 

His  Letters  to  Ellen  Nussey,  i.  6,  7;  ii. 
390-391 

Other  References,  i.  19-20,  215,  255,  355, 

356 ;  ii.  4,  107,  145,  148,  226,  266 
Nicholls,  Mrs,  A.  B.  (Charlotte  Bronte),  see 

Bronte  (Charlotte) 

Nicholls,  Mrs.  A.  B.  (Miss  Bell),  ii.  392 
Nicoll,  Dr.  Robertson,  ii.  332 
Noel,  Baptist,  i.  227 
North  American  Review  on  the  Brontes,  i. 

464 

North  British  Review,  ii.  63,  200 
Norton  Conyers  and  'Thornfield  Hall"  in 

'Jane  Eyre/  i.  96,  162 
Nowell,  William,  i.  26 
Nunn,  Rev.  John,  i.  25 ;  ii.  405 
Nunn,    Mrs.,    and    Rev.    Patrick   Bronte's 

Letters  to  Her,  404-406 
Nussey,  Mrs., 

Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters  to  Her,  i.  303 

Her  Death,  ii.  403 

Nussey,  Ann  (Mrs.  Clapham),  ii.  377,  385 
Nussey,  Ellen,  of  Brookroyd : 

Note,  i.  380 

Pupil  at  Roe  Head,  i.  79,  84,  428-429 

Her  Impressions  of  Charlotte  Bronte"  as  a 
Pupil  at  Roe  Head,  i.  84-92 

Her  Friendship  with  Charlotte,  i.  4,  79, 
109,  380;  ii.  51,  103 

Charlotte  Bronte  on  Elkn  Nussey,  ii.  51, 
103 

Charlotte's  First  Visit  to  Ellen  at  Rydings, 

Her  First  Visit  to  Haworth,  i.  101-106 
Her  Pictures  of  the  Life  at  Haworth,  i. 

66-68,  101-106 
Further  Reminiscences  of  Charlotte  Bronte, 

i,  167 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters  to  Ellen  Nussey, 

i.  4,  18,  29,  80,  93  et  seq. 
On  Charlotte's  First  Visit  to  the  Seaside, 

i.  167-170 

At  Charlotte's  Wedding,  ii.  364-365 
Her  Letter  to  Rev.  A,  B.  Nicholls ,  i.  5 
Rev.  A.  B.  Nicholls's  Letters  to  Her,  i.  6, 

7 1  «•  390-391 


476 


THE  BRONTES 


Her  Friendship  with  Mrs,  Gaskell,  i.  8 
Her  Attitude  to  Mrs.  Gaskell's  'Life  of 

Charlotte  Bronte,'  i.  4-10 ;  ii.  2,  4 
Her  Letters  to  Mrs.  Gaskell,  i.  7,  9,  12 
Mrs.  Gaskell's  Letters  to  her,  i.  4 ;  ii,  396 
Rev.  W.  Gaskell's  Letter  to  her,  ii.  401 
Her  Impressions  of  Mary  Taylor,  i.  428 
Mary  Taylor's  Letters  to  her,  i.  17,  234, 

236,  243-244,  280-281 ;  ii.  25,  155,  198, 

347.  369-373>  394,  399.  4°3 
Martha  Taylor's  Letters  to  her,   i.  221, 

236,  240 

Miss  M.  Wooler's  Letter  to  her,  ii.  402 
Emily  Bronte's  Letters  to  her,  i.  265,  316 
Anne  Bronte"  s  Letters  to  her,  i.  355,  384 ; 

ii.  38 

In  London,  i.  108 
At  Scarborough  with  Charlotte  and  Anne, 

ii.  Si 
Rev.  W.  Weigh tman  and  Miss  Nussey,  i. 

176,  190 

Mr.  Vincent  and  Miss  Nussey,  i.  196,  200 
Rev.  J.  C.  Smith  and  Miss  Nussey,  i.  278- 

279 
Canon  Heald's  Letter  to  Miss  Nussey,  ii. 

104 

Proposed  Companion  to  Mrs.  Upjohn,  ii. 
aSs,  295,  308,  310,  312,  314,  323.  324. 
326,369 

Nussey,  George, 
Illness,  i.  288-291,  313,  331,  332 
Other  References,  i,  121,  123,  207,  209, 

300,  401,  409 
Nussey,  Rev.  Henry, 
Rector  of  Earnley,  i.  150,  200 
Rector  of  Hathersage,  i.  150 
His  Proposal  of  Marriage  to   Miss  Lut- 

wigge,  i.  150 
His  Proposal  of  Marriage  to   Charlotte 

Bronte',  i.  150,  154 
His  Marriage,  i.  298,  304 
His  Diary,  i.  150 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters  to  him,  i.  152, 

170,  186,  200,  210 
Other  References,  i.  302,  371 
Nussey,  Mrs.  Henry,  i.  298,  304,  309 
Nussey,  Isabella,  i.  310 
Nussey,  John,  i.  143,  371,  427 
Nussey,  Mrs.  John,  i.  143 
Nussey,  Mercy, 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters  to  her,  i.  226, 

456 

Other  References,  i.  116,  285 ;  ii.  266,  381 
Nussey,  Richard,  i.  no ;  ii,  232 
Nussey,  Mrs.  Richard,  ii,  349-350,  352 
Nussey,  Sarah,  i.  112,  269 

Observer; 

On  '  Tane  Eyre,'  i.  373 

On  '  Shirley, '  ii.  82 
Oliphant's  (Mrs.)  'William  Blackwood  and 

His  Sons,'  i.  131-135 
Opium  in  '  Villette, '  ii.  339 
O'Prunty,  Patrick,  i.  23-24 
Outhwaite,  Miss  Fanny,  ii.  50,  415,  417,  418, 

419,  421 
Oxenhope,  i.  64 
Oxford,  ii.  225 


PADIHAM   LIVING  offered  to   Rev,   A,    B. 

Nicholls,  ii.  380,  382,  384,  386 
Pag,  see  Taylor  (Mary) 
Palladium :  Article  on  Charlotte  Bronte,  by 

Sydney  Dobell,  ii.  167,  169-170,  183 
Palmerston,  Lord,  i.  26 
Pascal's  'Thoughts,'  ii.  71 
Pastoral  Visitor  and  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte's 

Contributions,  i.  31,  51 
Patchet  or  Patchett,  Miss,  of  Law  Hill  School, 

Halifax,  i.  139,  149 ;  ii.  2 
1  Pauline  Mary'  (Fanny  Whipp)  in  '  Villette/ 

i.  168  ;  ii.  289 
Payn,  James,  i.  381 
Peace  Congress  at  Exeter  Hall,  ii.  77 
Peel,  Sir  Robert,  i.  81,  108,  114 
People's  Journal,  i.  367 
Perry,  Miss,  ii.  94 
'Persons  and  Places  of  "Jane  Eyre'"  by 

H.  E.  Wroot,  i.  157 
'  Persons  and  Places  of ' '  Villette  "  and  4  *  The 

Professor'"  by  H.  E.  Wroot,  ii.  302 
Phillips,  George  Searle,  i.  451 
Pigot's  'Yorkshire  Directory*  quoted,  i.  63- 

64 
Pistol-Shooting  Story  of  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte', 

i,  21-22,  59 
Plymouth  Grove,  Manchester:  Home  of  Mrs. 

Gaskell,  ii.  319 
'Poems'  by  Currer,  Ellis,  and  Acton  Bell 

(1846),  i,  318-320,  323-329,  366,  378,  460, 

462;  ii.  164-165 

Poems  (Complete)  by  Emily  Bronte,  ii,  3 
Pool,  Robinson,  at  Thornton,  i.  53 
'  Poor  Relations'  by  James  Willing,  i.  395 
Portrait  of  Charlotte  Bronte  by  Richmond, 

ii.  148,  151,  309 
Portrait  of  Thackeray  at  Havvorth,  ii.  91, 

309-310 
Portrait   of   the    Duke   of    Wellington   at 

Haworth,  ii.  150-151,  309 
Postlethwaite,  Mr.,  of  Broughton-m-Furness, 

i.  179-181 

Powley,  Rev.  Matthew,  i.  26 
Priestley,  Mr.,  at  Thornton,  i.  53 
Procter,  B.  W. ,  ii.  92 
Procter,  Mrs.,  ii.  92,  94,  95 
Procter,  Adelaide  Ann,  ii,  94 
'  Professor  (The)'  by  Charlotte  Hrontii: 

Manuscript  sent  to  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder 
&  Co.,  July  1847,  i.  358-350,  383,  461 

'Read'  by  W.  S.  Williams,  i.  ^82 

{ Persons  and  Places  of  "  The  fcrafoasor  "  * 
by  H.  E,  Wroot,  ii.  302 

'  Mr.  Crirnsworth, '  i,  231 

( Mdlle.  Zoraide  Reuter'  (Madame  H<£ger), 
i.  256 

Picture  of  Brussels,  i.  329-233 

Other  References,  ii.  293,  397 
Punch,  i.  343  ;  ii.  120 
Puseyites,  ii.  182,  316 

Quarterly  Review  : 

Article  on  'Jane  Eyre '  (Dec,  1848),  by  Miss 
Rigby  (Lady  Eastlake),  ii  4,  17,  i8f  35, 
31,  64,  67-68,  71,  73,  93 
Other  Reference,  ii,  37 
Quarterly  Review  of  Bombay,  ii.  39 


INDEX 


477 


RACHEL  (Actress),  ii.  218,  221,  252 
Uawdon : 

Charlotte  Bronte,  Governess  at  Upperwood 
House,  i.  202-228,  281 

Lane  Head,  i.  202 
Rawson,  Mr,,  i.  40 
Readers  for  Publishers,  i.  381 
Record,  i.  330  ;  ii.  405 
Redhead,  Mr.,  and  Haworth,  i.  12 
Redman,  Joseph,  ii.  323 
Redman,  Martha,  ii.  144 
Reform  Bill,  1832,  i.  83 
Register   of   Births   and   Baptisms   of  the 

Bronte  Children,  i.  52,  53 
Reid,  Sir  Wemyss,  and  His  '  Monograph,'  i. 

18,  202,  255  ;  ii.  196 
£  Reuter,  Mdlle.  Zoraide '  (Madame  He*ger), 

in  '  The  Professor, '  i.  256 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  ; 

Eugene  Forbade  on  'Jane  Eyre/  i,  462 

Eugene  Forbade  on  'Shirley,'  ii.  87,  88 
Richmond's  Portrait  of  Charlotte  Bronte,  ii. 

148,  151,  309 
Richmond's  (Legh)  'Domestic  Portraiture/ 

i.  125 

Rigby,  Miss,  see  Eastlake  (Lady) 
Ringrose,   Miss  Amelia,   see  Taylor  (Mrs. 

Joseph) 

Ringrose,  Miss  Rosy,  i.  252,  371 
Ritchie,  Mrs.  Richmond,  on  Thackeray  and 

Charlotte  Bronte,  ii.  92-95 
1  Rivers,   St.  John,'  in  'Jane  Eyre/  i.  150, 

432,  435 
Roberson,    Mr.,    and    'Mr.    Helstone'    in 

'Shirley/  i.  91,  95;  ii.  73,  78,  105 
Robinson,  Rev.  Edmund  and  Mrs.,  of  Thorp 
Green : 

Anne  Bronte,  Governess,  i.  13-14,  215,  216, 
301,  306 

Branwell  Bronte,  Tutor,  i.  13 

Branwell  and  Mrs.  Robinson,  i.  13-15,  295, 

297.  332 

Death  of  Mr.  Robinson,  i.  322,  332 
Will  of  Mr.  Robinson,  i,  322,  332 
Mrs.  Gaskell's  Apology,  i.  321-323 
Mrs.  Robinson  and  Sir  Edward  Scott,  i. 

447 

Mrs.   Robinson  married   to  Sir  Edward 

Scott,  ii.  8 

Robinson,  The  Misses,  i.  347.  44*.  447 
Robinson,  Miss  Mary,  see  Clapham  (Mrs.) 
Robinson,  Miss  R.,  i.  370 
Robinson's   (Miss   A.     Mary    F.)     'Emily 

Bronte'/  i.  181  j  ii.  5-7,  13-15 
Robinson,  William,  Art  Teacher,  i.  131 
*  Rochester,  Mr/,  in  '  Jane  Eyre/  i.  390,  394, 

404,  446 

'Rochester,  Mrs/,  i.  384 
Roe  Head  School : 

Emily  BrontS  as  Pupil,  i.  9 ;  ii.  a 

Charlotte  Brontes  as  Pupil,  i.  79-8s»  428- 
429 ;  ii.  419 

Anne  Bronte'  as  Pupil,  i.  to 

Charlotte  Brontg  as  Governess,  i.  9-10,  73, 
79,  117-137 

Ellen  Nussey,  Pupil,  i.  79-%*,  428 

Martha  Taylor,  Pupil,  i.  428-429 

Mary  Taylor,  Pupil,  i,  79-82,  428-429 


School  removed  to  Dewsbury  Moor,  see 

Dewsbury  Moor 
Rogers,  Samuel,  and  His   '  Breakfasts, '  ii. 

221,  222 

Rossetti,  Dante  Gabriel,  i.  320 

Rossini's  *  Barber  of  Seville,'  i.  438 

Royal  Academy,  i.  438 ;  ii.  141,  142 

Royal  Literary  Fund,  ii.  136 

Ruddock,  Dr.,  ii.  242,  244-247,  250,  256,  272 

Ruskin,  John, 

W.  S,  Williams's  '  Selections/  i.  381 

1  Modern  Painters/  i.  441 ;  ii.  161 

4  Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture/  ii.  44,  161 

'The  Stones  of  Venice/  ii.  233 
Ruskin,  John  James,  i.  381 
Russell,  Lord  John,  ii.  182,  259 
Rutland,  Duke  of  (Lord  John  Manners),  ii, 

163,  271 
Rydings : 

'Thornfield  Hall'  in  'Jane  Eyre/  i.  96 

Other  References,  i.  96-97,  in 

ST.  CLAIR,  Lady  Harriet,  ii.  317 
Sainte  Gudule,  i.  270  ;  ii.  302 
Samplers  of  the  Branwell  Sisters,  i.  32-33 
Sand,  George, 

'  Consuelo/  i.  387-388 

'  Lettres  d'un  Voyageur, '  ii.  175 
Sargent's  '  Henry  Martyn/  i.  150 
Saturday  Review  of  Bombay,  ii.  29 
Scarborough : 

Deathplace  of  Anne  Bronte,  ii.  48-51 

Tomb  of  Anne  Bronte,  ii.  52 

Charlotte  Bronte's  Visit  to  Anne's  Grave, 

ii.  267,  270 
'  School  for  Fathers '  by  Josepha  Gulston,  ii. 

261 
Scotland : 

Charlotte  Bronte"s  Visit,  1850,  ii.  145-147. 
150,  160,  168 

Charlotte  Bronte's  Visit,  1853,  ii.  333,  340 
Scotsman,  i.  379 
Scott,  Sir  Edward, 

Death  of  His  Wife,  i.  447 

His  Second  Wife  (Mrs,  Robinson),  ii.  8 
Scott,  Lady,  ist  Wife  of  Sir  Edward  Scott, 

i.  392,  447 
Scott,  Lady  (Mrs.  Robinson),  2nd  Wife  of 

Sir  Edward  Scott,  see   Robinson   (Mrs. 

Edmund) 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  i.  i,  15,  71,  99,  in 
Scribner's  Magazine,  1871 :  Ellen  Nussey 's 

Reminiscences  of  Charlotte  Bronte,  i,  84- 

92,  97 
Scruton's    (William)    'Thornton    and    the 

Bronte's, '  i.  52 
Searle,  January  (George  Searle  Phillips),  i. 

451 
Servants    of    Patrick    Bronte,    see    Brown 

(Martha),  Brown  (Tabby),  Garrs  (Nancy 

and  Sarah) 

Shakespeare,  William,  i.  in ;  ii.  117 
'Sharp,  Rebecca/  in  'Vanity  Fair/  i.  379, 

412 
Shares  Magazine  : 

On  'Villette,1 1853,  ii.  312 

On  'Jane  Eyre/  1855,  i.  5,  6 

Other  Reference,  ii.  142 


478 


THE  BRONTES 


Shepheard's  (Rev.  H.)  'Vindication  of  the 

Clergy  Daughters'  School,'  i.  70 
Sheridan,  Richard  Brinsley,  i.  82,  413 
4  Shirley '  by  Charlotte  Bronte : 
Opening  Chapters  sent  to  Messrs.  Smith, 
Elder  &  Co.,  Feb.  1849,  "•  23-25,  30-37 
Read '  by  W.  S.  Williams,  ii.  30,  37,  68 
Completion,  Sept.  1849,  ii.  69 
Title,  ii.  65,  66 

Proposed  New  Edition,  ii.  260,  272,  287 
Characters,  ii.  104-105 
1  Shirley  Keeldar '  (Emily  Bronte'),  ii.  56, 

338 

The  Curates,  ii.  31,  56 
'Mr.  Donne'  (J.  B.  Grant),  ii.  37,  56,  124 
'Mr.  Malone1  (Rev.  J.  W.  Smith),  i.  284; 

ii.  37,  56,  294 

4 Rev.  David  Sweeting'  (Rev.  J.  C.  Brad- 
ley), ii.  57 
4 Rev.  Cyril  Hall'  (Rev.  W,  M.  Heald),  i. 

138  ;  ii.  73»  104 
'Mr.  Macarthey'  (Rev.  A.  B.  Nicholls),  ii. 

294 
4  Mr.   Helstone'  (Mr.  Roberson?),  i.  91, 

95  J  ii-  73.  ?8,  105 

'Mr.  Moore'  (Mr.  Cartwright),  ii.  105 
4  Mr.  Yorke'  (Mr.  Taylor),  i,  430;  ii.  78, 

i°S 

4 Jessie  Yorke'  (Martha  Taylor),  i,   221, 
430 ;  ii.  105 

*  Rose  Yorke'  (Mary  Taylor),  i.  428,  430 ; 
ii.  105 

'  Hortense  Moore'  (Mdlle.  Hausse'),  ii.  104 

'  Miss  Ainley, '  i.  90 

Incident  utilised,  i.  26 

The  Luddites,  i.  91 

Its  Reception  in  Yorkshire,  ii.  104,  107, 
112,  114,  117 

W.  S.  Williamson,  ii.  30,  37,  68 

James  Taylor  on,  ii.  30,  37,  70 

Mary  Taylor  on,  ii,  132,  153 

O.  H.  Lewes  on,  ii.  78,  106 

Harriet  Martineau  on  (in  Daily  News),  ii. 
78,  81,  82,  305 

Eugene  Forpade  on,  ii.  87,  88 

Other  Press  Opinions,  ii.  78,  81-88,  103, 
106,  no,  123,  126,  167,  304,  309 

Other  References,  i.  ii,  26,  90-91 ;  ii.  18, 

199,  207,  436 

4  Shirley'  (Sir  John  Skelton),  ii.  344 
Snorter's   (C.  K.)  'Charlotte  Bronte   and 

Her  Circle, 'i.  20;  and  'Charlotte  Bronte 

and  Her  Sisters/  i.  150 
Shuttleworth,    Sir   James    Kay,  see    Kay- 

Shuttleworth  (Sir  J.). 
Sidgwick,  John  Benson,  of  Stonegappe,  i. 

156-157,  159 

Sidgwick,  Mrs,,  i.  149,  156-162,  206 
Sidgwick,  Alfred,  i.  157 
Sidgwick,  Rev.  Benson,  i.  157 
Sidgwick,  William,  i.  156 
Simeon,  Charles,  Evangelist,  i.  150,  415,  447 
Skelton,  Sir  John  ('  Shirley'),  ii.  344 
Sketch:  M.  Colin  on  Prof.  He"ger,  i.  258 
Sloane,  Edward,  i.  451 
Smith,  Mrs.  (mother  of  George  Smith) : 

Charlotte  Bronte*  as  her  Guest,  ii,  95,  140 

Charlotte  Bronte's  Letter  to  her,  ii.  223 


'Mrs.  Bretton'  in  'Villette/  ii  05,  397 
Other  References,  ii.  c)6,  97,  «<*>»,  2oc> 
Smith,  Prof.  C.  C.  Moore,  on  the  Brontes 

at  Thornton,  etc.,  i.  54,  S$  ;  ii,  410-423 
Smith,  George  (of  Messrs  Smith,  Elder  & 

Co.): 
His  First  Meeting  with  Chariot ic  Bronte, 

i.  436-439 
Charlotte's  Bronte's  Letters  to  him,  i.  2, 

14;  ii.  77,  119,  150,  248,  282-285,  289, 

3°9 

His  Visit  to  Edinburgh  with  Charlotte 
Bronte,  ii.  145-148,  150,  100,  168 

His  Gift  of  Richmond's  Portrait  of  Char- 
lotte to  Mr.  Bronte,  ii.  i.j8,  151,  300 

His  Gift  of  Thackeray's  I'orinut  to  Char- 
lotte Bronte,  ii.  91,  309-310 

His  Gift  of  Portrait  ofJHiku  of  Wellington 
to  Charlotte  BronUi,  ii.  150-151,  309 

Did  he  propose  to  Charlotte  Bronte?  ii. 
196 

'Dr.  John'  in    Villette,'  it.  95,  383-284, 

397 

On  '  Shirley,'  ii.  31 
Other  References,  i.  2,  4,  9,  382  ;  ii.  93,  96, 

101,  112,  196,  215,  299 
Smith,  Mrs.  George,  ii.  397,  398 
Smith,  Rev.  James  William, " 
Curate  at  Haworth,  i.  22,  282 
Curate  at  Keighley,  i.  283,  284,  301 
Mr.  Smith  and  Ellen  Nussey,  i.  278-279 
'Mr.  Malone'  in  Shirley,'  i.  284;   ii.  56, 

294 

Smith,  John  Stores, 
Author  of  '  Mirabeau,'  i.  424-425  ;  ii.  435, 

437 

On  His  Visit  to  Haworih,  ii.  435-444 
Smith,  Reginald  (of  Messrs.  Smith,  Elder  £ 

Co.),  ii.  393 
Smith,    Robert    Keating,   on   '  Rev.   P,   A. 

Malone'  in  'Shirley/  ii.  56 
Smith,  Elder  &  Co,,  Messrs., 
W.  S.  Williams.  Reader,  i,  381 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters,  i.  358-360,  362, 

367,  368-370 

Rejection  of  '  The  Professor, '  see  '  Pro- 
fessor (The) ' 
Publication  of  'Jane  Eyre/ 1847,  sec  '  Jane 

Eyre' 
Publication  of  the  Poems  of  Currer,  KlHs, 

and  Acton  Bell,  1848,  i.  328 

Publication  of  'Shirley/ 1,849,  Kcft  'Shirley' 

Publication  of  New  Kdition  of '  Wuthermg 

Heights'  and  'Agnes  Cirey/  1850,  see 

'  Wuthermg  Heights'  and  'Agnes  Grey* 

Publication  of  'Villette/  1853,  see  «VU. 

Jette ' 

Other  References,  3,  389,  435-430 
'Snowe,  Lucy'  (Charlotte  Bronti'),  in  'Vil* 

lette/  i.  254-25$;  a.  284,  286,  314 
'Social  Aspects/  ii.  151 
South  Wales  Echo;  Letter  of  Miss  S,  Mills, 

i-  233 

Southey,  Robert, 
His  '  Nelson /  i,  m 

His  Letters  to  Charlotte  Bronte  and  Char- 
lotte's Reply,  i.  126-131 
Other  References,  i.  in;  ii  xaa>  137 


INDEX 


479 


Southey's   (Rev,  C,    C.)    'Life   of   Robert 

Southey/  i.  126 
Sowden,  Rev.  George,  of  Hebden  Bridge,  ii. 

364,  380,  393 
Sowden,  Rev.  Sutcliffe,  ii.  364,  367,380,  381, 

382,  384,  386 
Sowerby  Bridge,  i.  194 
S/rt'/fl/or,  i.  367,  383,  462 ;  ii.  85 
Stanbury,  i.  64 

Standard  of  Freedom  i  i.  460;  ii.  83,  84 
Stead,  John  J.,  i.  52,  53,  150 
Stephen,  Sir  James,  i.  14,  150 
Stonegappe :  Charlotte  Bronte,   Governess, 

i.  149,  156-162,  206 
Stowe,  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher, 

'  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,'  ii.  276,  283 

Other  References,  ii.  331,  339 
Strickland's    (Mr.)   Letter    to    Westminster 

Gazette,  i.  203 
Stuart,  Dr.  J.  A.  Erslcine, 

*  Literary  Shrines  of  Yorkshire/  i.  96 

On  Bronte  Nomenclature,  i.  23 
Sugden,  Sarah,  i.  189 
Sun,  i.  366;  ii.  85 
Sttnday  Times t  i.  376 
Susey— Charlotte  Bronte" s  Letter  to  her,  i. 

421 

Swain  or  Swaine,  Mrs.  John,  i.  278,  407 
Swaine,  Mary,  i.  408  ;  ii.  61 
Swarcliffe,  i.  159-162 
'Sweeting,  Rev.  David'  (Rev.  J.  C.  Bradley), 

in  'Shirley/  ii.  57 
Swift,  Dean,  ii.  325 
Swinburne,  A.  C.,  on  Emily  Bronte,  ii.  2 

TABBY,  see  Brown  (Tabby) 

Tablet  on  'Jane  Eyre/  i.  363,  364 

Tdifs  Edinburgh  Magazine,  i.  326 

Tatham,  Mr. ,  i.  36 

Tatltr :  Article  on  '  Rev.  P.  A.  Malone '  in 

'  Shirley/  by  R.  K.  Smith,  ii.  56 
Taylor,  Mr., 

'Mr.  Yorke'  in  'Shirley/  i.  430;  ii.  78, 

105 

Other  References,  i.  198,  340,  429 
Taylor,  Ellen, 

In  New  Zealand,  i.  431 ;  ii.  133,  153, 156 
Her  Letter  to  Charlotte  Bronte,  ii.  153 
Her  Death,  ii,  254,  265 
Other  References,  i.  407,  426 ;  ii.  27,  41, 

243 

Taylor,  Henry,  i.  426 
Taylor,  James,  of  Smith,  Elder  &  Co. : 
Biographical,  ii.  28-29 
His  Resemblance  to  Branwell  Bronte',  ii. 

aoi 

Charlotte  Bronte"s  Letters  to  him,  i,  4; 

ii.  28-30,  68,  72,  82,  137,  166,  180,  187, 

IQI,  197,  200-201,  238,  251 

Suitor  to  Charlotte  Bronte",  i.  20;  ii.  28, 

194,  196,  201-207,  253,  255,  257,  271, 

39S 

On  '  Shirley/  ii.  30,  37,  70 
His  Life  in  India,  ii.  29,  201,  236,  238,  240, 

?43 

His  Marriage,  ii.  29 
Other  References,  i.  4  •  &  66,  96,  97,  170, 

241,  250 


Taylor,  Mrs.  James,  ii.  29 

Taylor,  John,  i.  218,  221 

Taylor,  John  Sydney  (Journalist),   ii.    163, 

167 

Taylor,  Joseph,  of  Hunsworth,  i.  294,  3ois 
3°9>  3io.  3^2,  336,  408,  426,  433';  ii.  i23 
28,  84,  102,  107,  109,  no,  113,  125,  3os 
165,  195,  198,  207,  271,  309,  314,  333,  40, 
395.  399 
Taylor,  Mrs.  Joseph  (Amelia  Ringrose),  ii. 

187,  etc. 

Taylor,  Joshua,  i.  20 
Taylor,  Martha, 
Pupil  at  Roe  Head,  i.  428-429 
'  Little  Miss  Boisterous/  i.  93,  429 
Miss   Kavanagh's   Resemblance   to   her, 

ii.  143-144 
In  Brussels,  etc.,  i.  218,  220-222,  229,  235- 

236,  240 
Her  Letters  to  Ellen  Nussey,  i.  221,  236, 

240 

Her  Death,  i.  240,  243,  246,  431 
*  Jessie  Yorke '  in  '  Shirley/  i.  221,  430 ;  ii. 

105 
Other  References,  i.  95,  in,  138,  143,  151, 

188 

Taylor,  Mary  ('Pag'): 
Pupil  at  Roe  Head,  i.  79-82,  428-429 
Ellen  Nussey 's  Impressions  of  her,  i.  428 
Her  Friendship  with  Charlotte  Bronte,  i. 

4,  79,  228,  428-450 
Her  Impressions  of  Charlotte  Bronte',  i. 

79-83,  117-119,  247  ;  ii.  394 
At  Haworth,  i.  151 
At  Brussels,  etc.,  i.  218,  221,  223,  229, 

234-236,  24,0,  280,  430 
In  Germany,  i.  261,  272 
Her  Return  to  England,  i.  281 
At  Haworth,  i.  289 
Her  Proposal  to  emigrate  to  New  Zealand, 

i.  207,  208,  212,  284,  291-293,  298 
Her  Life  in  New  Zealand,  i.  339,  352,  431 ; 

ii.  25,  131,  152-159,  198,  348,  369,  394, 

399.  403 
'Rose  Yorke1  in  'Shirley/  i.  428,  430;  ii, 

105 
Her  Letters  to  Charlotte  Bronte,  i.  261, 

43I-43S;  ii- 4i.  isma,  *S7 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters  to  her,  i.  435- 

439 

Her  Letters  to  Ellen  Nussey,  i.  17,  234, 
236,  243-244,  280-281 ;  ii.  25,  155,  198, 

347»  369373.  394-  399>  4°3 
On  'Jane  Eyre/ i.  431 
On  *  Shirley /  ii.  132,  153 
On   Mrs.    Gaskelf  s    '  Life   of  Charlotte 

Bronte"/ i.  16,  17 
Her  Letters  to  Mrs.  Gaskell,  i.  16,  79-83, 

117,  247 

Other  References,  i.  in,  138,  143,  151, 
174,  175-176,  199,  224,   263,  264,  273. 
279,  309 ;  ii.  60 
Taylor,  Waring,  in  New  Zealand,  i.  208, 345, 

431 ;  ii.  27,  41,  133,  199 
Taylor,  Mrs.  waring,  ii.  27 
Taylor  &  Hessey,  Messrs.,  i,  381 
Teale,  Mr.,  ii.  42-43,  *29>  *7if  244.  349>  35° 
1  Temple,  Miss/  in  'Jane  Eyre/  i.  384 


480 


THE  BRONTES 


'Tenant  of  Wildfell  Hall '  by  Anne  Bronte : 
Publication  by  Newby,  1848,  i.  435-436, 

442,444;  ii.  169,  183 
Other  References,  ii.  169,  183 
Tennyson,  Alfred  Lord, 
'  In  Memoriam,'  ii.  164 
Other  References,  i.  329  ;  ii.  24 
Thackeray,  James,  and  William  Nowell,  i.  26 
Thackeray,  W.  M. , 

4  Vanity  Fair,'  i.  377-378,  405,  445  ;  ii.  10; 

'  Rebecca  Sharp,'  i.  379,  412 
*  Pendennis,'  ii.  10,  120 
'Esmond,1  ii.  248,  282,  284,  287,  288,  290 
'The  Newcomes/  ii.  343 
His  Lectures,  ii.  212-213,  214,  216,  218, 

219,  227,  233,  252,  322,  325-326 
His  Meeting  with  Charlotte  Bronte',  ii.  92, 
97,  100,  104,  211 ;  and  Mrs.  Ritchie's 
Reminiscences,  ii.  92-95 
Charlotte  Bronte  on  Thackeray,  i.  361, 
362,  373.  377,   388,  390-39*'  402,  44S» 
459 ;  ii.  10,  37,  101,  106,  108,  116,  120, 
143,  211-213,  214,  216,  218-219,  227,233, 
248-249,  252,  282,  284,  322,  325,  443 


On  'Jane  Eyre,'  i.  362-363,  372-373 
Inscribed    Copy    of    'Vanity    Fair' 


to 


Charlotte  Bronte,  i.  i. 
Second  Edition  of  '  Jane  Eyre '  dedicated 
to  Thackeray,  i.  389,  390;  ii.  31,  91-92 
Inscribed  Copy  of  '  Esmond '  to  Charlotte 

Bronte,  ii.  91,  284 
Thackeray  in  '  Villette/  ii.  92,  217 
Lawrence's     Portrait    of    Thackeray    at 

Haworth,  ii.  91,  309-31:0 
Other  References,  i.  3,  381 
Thackeray,  Mrs.,  i.  390 ;  ii.  31,  91-92 
Thiers,  M.,  i,  397-399 
'Thornfield    Hall'    (Rydings   and    Norton 

Conyers)  in  *  Jane  Eyre/  i.  96,  162 
Thornton : 
The  Old  Bell  Chapel,  the  New  Church, 

etc.,  i.  52  ;  ii.  410 

Visits  of  Oliver  Heywood,  Royalist,  i.  53 
Ministrations   of   Joseph    and  Accepted 

Lester  and  others,  i.  53 
Patrick  Bronte  as  Minister,  i.  49,  50-62 ; 

ii.  410 

Other  Ministers,  i.  51 
The  Brontes  at  Thornton,  by  Prof.  C.  C, 

Moore  Smith,  ii,  410-423 
'  Thornton  and  the  Bronte's '  by  William 

Scruton,  i.  52 
Thorp  Green,  Residence  of  Rev.  Edmund 

Robinson,  i.  13-15 
'  Tiger '  (Dog),  i.  305 
Tighe,  Mr.,  i.  23 
Times: 
Article  on  Mrs.  Gaskell's  '  Life  of  Charlotte 

Bronte','  i.  55 
Mrs.  Gaskell's  Apology  to  Mrs.  Robinson, 

i.  321-323 

Letters  on  Cowan  Bridge,  i.  13 
On  '  Shirley,'  ii.  97,  123,  126 
On  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  ii,  275 
Other  References,  ii.  309,  312 
Tomlinson,     Ellen— Letter    to    Her    from 

Charlotte  Bronte,  i.  450 
Trafalgar  Square,  ii.  227 


Trollope's  (Mrs.)  'Factory  Boy/  i.  391 
Truelock,  Miss,  ii.  94 
Turner,  J.  HorsfaU, 

Printer  of  Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters,  i.  18 
His  Book  '  Bronteana '  (Collected  Writings 

of  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte),  i.  30-31 
His   Book   'Haworth  Past  and  Present/ 

i.  66 
Turner,  J.  M.  W.,  i.  381 ;  ii,  1x6 

'  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN/  by  Mrs.  Stowe,  ii. 

276,  283 
Upperwood  House,  Rawdon,  Home  of  John 

and    Mrs.    White:      Charlotte    Bronte, 

Governess,  i.  202-228,  281 
Upjohn,  Mrs.,  ii,  285,  295,  308,  310,  3x2, 

314,  323,  324,  326,  369 

VALENTINE  by  Charlotte  Bronte,  i.  204 
c  Vanity  Fair/  see  under  Thackeray  (W.  M. ) 
'  Villette '  by  Charlotte  Bronte : 
Writing  of  the  Story,  Mar.— Oct.  1852,  it. 

253,  282 
Part  of  MS.  sent  to  Smith,  Elder  &  Co. ,  ii* 

282-284 

Story  completed,  Nov.  1852,  ii.  288-291 
'  Read'  by  W.  S.  Williams,  ii.  286-287 
Publication,  Jan.  1853,  ii.  302 
'Persons  and  Places  of  "Villette'"   by 

H.  E.  Wroot,  ii.  302 
Heroine  originally  '  Miss  Frost/  ii.  284, 

286 
'LucySnowe'  (Charlotte  Bronte),  1.354, 

255,  284,  286,  314 
'Paul  Emanuel'  (Prof.  C.  Hdger),  z.  254- 

255 ;  ii.  92,  217,  3^7 

'Madame  Beck1  (Madame  Heger),  i.  256 
'Mrs.  Bretton'  (Mrs.  Smith],  ii.  95,  397 
'  Dr.  John'  (George Smith),  ii.  95,  283-284, 
'  Genevra  Fanshawe '  (Maria  Miller),  i.  233  ; 

ii.  283 
Fanny  Whipp  and  <  Pauline  Mary/  i.  168  ; 

ii.  289 

Topography  of  the  Story,  ii.  302 
'  Bretton '  as  Burlington,  or  Bricllington,  ii. 

302 

'  Villette'  (Brussels),  i.  229-233;  ii.  302 
Ste.  Gudule,  i.  270 ;  ii.  302 
The  '  Rue  Fossette '  (Ru«  tl'Isabelle),  i.  330- 

*33C     .. 
Opium,  u.  339 

Harriet  Martmeau  on,  ii.  304-305,  309,  316 
Review   by   Miss   Anne   Mozley  in   the 

Christian  R&m?ntbrancw ',  ii.  331-333 
Other  Press  Opinions,  ii.  307,  308, 3*2,  314, 

315-316 

Vincent,  Mr. ,  and  Ellen  Nusscy,  i.  196,  aoo 
Voltaire's  '  Henriade/  Book  I.,  translated  by 

Charlotte  Bront^,  i.  79 
Voules,  Mr.,  ii.  427-429 

WADE,  Rev.  John,  of  Haworth,  i.  as* 

'Waise  von  Lowood*  by  Charlotte  Birch- 
Pfeiffer,  i.  395 

Walker,  Miss  Frances  (Mrs,  Thomas  Atkin- 
son), i.  51 ;  ii.  165,  334 

Walker,  Reuben,  and  Rydings,  i,  96-97 

Waller,  Richard,  i,  149 


INDEX 


481 


Walton,  Agnes,  i.  178,  190,  214 

Watman,  Rev.  Mr.,  i.  35 

Weekly  Chronicle,  i.  363  ;  ii.  83 

Weightman,  Rev.  William, 
'  Miss  Celia  Amelia,1  i.  175-176 
A  Male  Flirt,  i.  178,  189,  190,  192,  199 
On  Church  Rates,  i.  177-178 
His  Death,  i.  31,  242,  246 
Other  References,  i.  175-178,  185, 189, 190, 
192-193, 194,  198,  199,  207,  214,  224,  227 

Wellesley,  Lord  Charles,  Hero  of  Stories,  i. 
71-73  ;  "•  430,  43i 

Wellington,  Duke  of, 

Hero  of  Stories,  i.  71-74,  81-82,  108,  114 
Portrait  at  Haworth,  ii.  150-151,  309 
Other  References,   ii.   141,  143,  186,  251, 

275.  4^7 
Wellington, Shropshire:  Rev. Patrick Brontti's 

Curacy,  i.  25 
Wells,  C.  J.,  i.  381 
Wesley,  John, 
At  Haworth,  i.  64 
His  Abridged  *  Imitation '  of  Thomas  £ 

Kempis,  i.  27-28,  71 
Westminster,  Marquis  of,  ii.  221,  222 
Westminster  Gazette:  Letter  of  Mr.  Strick- 
land, i.  203 
Westminster  Review  : 
Rev.    Angus    Mackay's    Article    on    the 

Bronte's  in  Ireland,  ii.  5 
On  '  Jane  Eyre, '  i.  360,  384 
Article  on  Woman's  Mission,  ii.  164 
Article  on  the  Emancipation  of  Women,  ii, 

226,  232 

Other  References,  i.  364 ;  ii.  103 
Wcthersfield,  Essex:  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte's 

Curacy,  i.  24 

Whately's,  Mrs.,  'English  Life  in  the  Nine- 
teenth Century,'  ii.  71,  82 
Wheelwright,  Dr.,  i.  232,  258 ;  ii.  95,  96 
Wheelwright,  Miss  Lcetitia, 

Pupil  at  the  Pensionnat  He"ger,  Brussels, 

i.  232-233 
Her  Friendship  with  Charlotte  Bronte,  i. 

20 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters  to  her,  ii.  33, 

98,  141,  149,  189,  262,  269,  350,  389 
On  Charlotte  Bronte  and  Prof.  He"ger,  i. 

256-257,  272 

Charlotte's  Visits  to  her,  ii.  95,  104 
Whipp,  Fanny,  and  '  Pauline  Mary '  in  '  Vil- 

lette/  i.  168 ;  ii.  289 
White,  Mr.rii.  316 

White,    John    and    Mrs.,    of    Upperwood 
House,     Rawdon:     Charlotte     Bronte, 
Governess,  i.  202-228,  281 
Whitefleld,  George,  at  Haworth,  i.  64 
Whitehaven  News:  Valentine  by  Charlotte 

Bronte',  i.  204 
Whitehead's (Mrs.  S.  R.)  'The  Two  Families' 

and  '  Rose  Douglas,'  iL  260 
Williams,  Miss  Anna,  i.  382 
Williams,  E.  Baumer,  and  Bronte'  Letters  in 

Macmittaris  Magazine,  i.  20 
Williams,  Eliza,  i.  190 
Williams,  Miss  Ellen,  ii,  $8 
Williams,  Miss  Fanny,  i,  424.  44^>  4^31  "• 
58,  69-100 

VOL.  IT* 


Williams,  Frank,  ii.  237 
Williams,  John  Branwell  and  Mrs. ,  i.  189 
Williams,  Miss  Louisa,  ii.  58-59,  60,  61 
Williams,  William  Smith, 
Biographical  Note,  i.  380-382 
His  '  Ruskin  Selections,'  i.  381 
His  First  Meeting  with  Charlotte  Bronte', 

i.  437-438 
His  Friendship  with  Charlotte  Bronte,  i. 

380-427 
His  Parcels  of  Books  to  Charlotte  Bronte, 

ii.  23,  24,  etc. 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters  to  him,  i.  4,  20, 

360  et  seq. 

On  'The  Professor,'  i.  382,  461 
On  'Jane  Eyre,'  i.  360,  363,  382 
On  'Shirley,'  ii.  30,  37,  68 
On  'Villette,'  ii.  286,  287 
Mrs.  Gaskell's  Letter  to  Mr.  Williams,  ii. 

293 
Other  References,  i.  3,  4 ;  ii.  96,  97,  215, 

398 

Williams,  Mrs.  W.  S.,  i.  416 
Willing's  (James)  Melodrama,  'Poor  Rela- 
tions,' i.  395 

Wilson,  John,  'Christopher  North,'  i.  132 
Wilson,  Rev.  William  Carus, 

'Mr.  Brocklehurst '  in  'Jane  Eyre,*  i.  13, 

69,  384 
The  Brontes  at  Cowan   Bridge,  by  Rev. 

A.  M.  Mackay,  ii.  424-426 
Mr.   Wilson  and  the  Kendal  Poor  Law 
'   Guardians,  ii.  427-429 
Wilson,  Dr.  William  James,  Oculist,  i.  335- 

338 
Wills's    (W.    G.)    Dramatisation    of    'Jane 

Eyre,'  i.  394 

Windermere :  The  Briery,  ii.  162,  172 
Wise,  Thomas  J,,  i.  20;  ii.  430 
Wiseman,  Cardinal,  ii.  219-220 
Woman    at   Home:    Mrs.   Frederika  Mac- 

donald  on  the  Brontes  at  Brussels,  i.  256 
Women : 

Scott  on  Female  Education,  ii.  122 
Women  Friendships,  ii.  103 
Woman's  Mission,  etc.,  i.  418,  422 ;  ii.  164 
Emancipation  of  Women,  ii.  226,  232 
Women- Workers,  ii.  132,  232 
Governesses,  i.  415-418,  423 ;  ii.  58-59 
Wood,  William,  of  Haworth,  i.  181 
Wood  House  Grove  School,  i.  27,  202 
Wooler,  Mr.,  i.  147 
Wooler,  Mrs.,  i.  143 
Wooler,  Amelia,  ii.  ip5 
Wooler,  Miss  Catherine,  i.  237 
Wooler,  Miss  Eliza,  i.  143 
Wooler,  Miss  Margaret, 
Headmistress  of  Roe  Head  School,  i.  7-10, 

79-92 

Headmistress  of  Dewsbury  Moor  School, 
*     *•  79»  137-148,  219-224 
Her  Pupils,  see  Bronte  (Charlotte,  Emily, 
and    Anne),    Nussey    (Ellen),    Taylor 
(Martha  and  Mary) 
Her  Visit  to  Haworth,  1851,  235,  240 
At  Charlotte  Bronte's  Wedding,  ii.  364 
Charlotte  Bronte's  Letters  to  her,  i.  314^ 
340,  406,  448 ;  ii.  35,  48,  108,  116,  172, 

2H 


482 


THE  BRONTES 


223,  231,  233,  245,  250,  258,  269,  276, 
278,  289,  303,  307,  315,  333,  336,  342, 
344.  3SS.  368 

Her  Letter  to  Ellen  Nussey,  ii,  402 
Wooler,  Miss  Marianne,  i.  115 
Wordsworth,  William, 

Bran  well  Bronte's  Letter  to  Wordsworth, 

i-  X35 
Charlotte  Bronte" s  Letter  to  Wordsworth, 

i.  183 

'The  Prelude, 'ii.  164,  172 
Other  References,  i.  in,  329 
Wrench,  Miss  Winifred,  ii.  136 
Wright's   (Dr,   William)  'The  Bronte's  in 

Ireland,'  i.  22;  ii,  3-5 

Wroot's  (Herbert  E.) (  Persons  and  Places  in 
"Jane  Eyre,'"  i.  157;  and  'Persons  and 
Places  of ' '  Villette"  and  "The  Professor," ' 
ii.  302 

*  Wuthering  Heights '  by  Emily  Bronte' : 
Publication  by  Newby,  i.  360,  367,  375, 
377»  378,   389.   395.   401,  432  ;  ii.  3-5, 
169 

Dr.  Wright  and  the  Irish  Origin  of  the 
Story,  ii.  3-5 


1  Mr.  Heathcliff,1  i.  446 

Branwell  Bronte's  Claim  to  the  Authorship, 

1.451-452 

Press  Opinions,  n.  167,  192 
New  Edition,  with  Preface  by  Charlotte 

Bronte,  published   by   Mvssrs,   Smith, 

Elder  £  Co.,  i.  317,  359;  ii.  5,  13,  169, 

171,  174,  178,  180,  183,  186 

YATES'S   (W    W.)    'The    Father   of   the 

Brontes,'  i.  26,  52 
York,  ii.  51 
'Yorke,  Mr,'  (Mr.  Taylor),  in  'Shirley,'  i. 

430 ;  ii.  78,  105 
'Yorke,  Jessie '  (Martha  Taylor),  in  'Shirley/ 

i.  221,  430 ;  ii.  105 
'Yorke,  Rose'  (Mary  Taylor),  in  'Shirley/ 

i.  428,  430 ;  ii.  105 
Yorkshire  Dailv  Observer  quoted  or  referred 

to,  i.  27,  32,  33 

Yorkshire  Directory  quoted,  i.  63-64 
Young  Men's  Magazine,  i.  76 ;  ii,  430 

ZOOLOGICAL  GARDENS,  London,  ii.  141, 142 


THE   END 


Printed  by  T.  and  A.  CONSTABLE,  Printers  to  His  Majesty 
at  the  Edinburgh  University  Press 


Date  Due 


MV2370 


WIJl 


Deraco  293-5 


92 


'^Th,., 


Carnegie  Institute  of  Technology 

Library 
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