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The Life of Charlotte Bronte by Elizabeth Claghorn Gaskell
Volume 2 [At this date we are still working on Volume 1]

by ELIZABETH CLAGHORN GASKELL




CONTENTS OF VOLUME TWO

CHAPTER I.
Mr. Bronte afflicted with blindness, and relieved by a successful
operation for cataract--Charlotte Bronte's first work of fiction,
"The Professor"--She commences "Jane Eyre"--Circumstances
attending its composition--Her ideas of a heroine--Her attachment
to home--Haworth in December--A letter of confession and counsel.

CHAPTER II.
State of Charlotte Bronte's health at the commencement of 1847--
Family trials--"Wuthering Heights" and "Agnes Grey" accepted by a
publisher--"The Professor" rejected--Completion of "Jane Eyre",
its reception and publication--The reviews of "Jane Eyre", and
the author's comments on them--Her father's reception of the
book--Public interest excited by "Jane Eyre"--Dedication of the
second edition to Mr. Thackeray--Correspondence of Currer Bell
with Mr. Lewes on "Jane Eyre"--Publication of "Wuthering Heights"
and "Agnes Grey"--Miss Bronte's account of the authoress of
"Wuthering Heights"--Domestic anxieties of the Bronte
sisters--Currer Bell's correspondence with Mr. Lewes--Unhealthy
state of Haworth--Charlotte Bronte on the revolutions of
1848--Her repudiation of authorship--Anne Bronte's second tale,
"The Tenant of Wildfell Hall"--Misunderstanding as to the
individuality of the three Bells, and its results--Currer and
Acton Bell visit London--Charlotte Bronte's account of her
visit--The Chapter Coffee House--The Clergy Daughters' School at
Casterton--Death of Branwell Bronte--Illness and death of Emily
Bronte.

CHAPTER III
The Quarterly Review on "Jane Eyre"--Severe illness of Anne
Bronte--Her last verses--She is removed to Scarborough--Her last
hours, and death and burial there--Charlotte's return to Haworth,
and her loneliness.

CHAPTER IV.
Commencement and completion of "Shirley"--Originals of the
characters, and circumstances under which it was written--Loss on
railway shares--Letters to Mr. Lewes and other friends on
"Shirley," and the reviews of it--Miss Bronte visits London,
meets Mr. Thackeray, and makes the acquaintance of Miss
Martineau--Her impressions of literary men.

CHAPTER V.
"Currer Bell" identified as Miss Bronte at Haworth and the
vicinity--Her letter to Mr. Lewes on his review of
"Shirley"--Solitude and heavy mental sadness and anxiety--She
visits Sir J. and Lady Kay Shuttleworth--Her comments on critics,
and remarks on Thackeray's "Pendennis" and Scott's "Suggestions
on Female Education"--Opinions of "Shirley" by Yorkshire readers.

CHAPTER VI.
An unhealthy spring at Haworth--Miss Bronte's proposed visit to
London--Her remarks on "The Leader"--Associations of her walks on
the moors--Letter to an unknown admirer of her works--Incidents
of her visit to London--Her impressions of a visit to
Scotland--Her portrait, by Richmond--Anxiety about her father.

CHAPTER VII.
Visit to Sir J. and Lady Kay Shuttleworth--The biographer's
impressions of Miss Bronte--Miss Bronte's account of her visit to
the Lakes of Westmoreland--Her disinclination for acquaintance
and visiting--Remarks on "Woman's Mission," Tennyson's "In
Memoriam," etc.--Impressions of her visit to Scotland--Remarks on
a review in the "Palladium."

CHAPTER VIII.
Intended republication of "Wuthering Heights" and "Agnes Grey"--
Reaction after her visit to Scotland--Her first meeting with Mr.
Lewes--Her opinion of Balzac and George Sand--A characteristic
incident--Account of a friendly visit to Haworth
Parsonage--Remarks on "The Roman," by Sydney Dobell, and on the
character of Dr. Arnold--Letter to Mr. Dobell.

CHAPTER IX.
Miss Bronte's visit to Miss Martineau, and estimate of her
hostess--Remarks on Mr. Ruskin's "Stones of Venice"--Preparations
for another visit to London--Letter to Mr. Sydney Dobell: the
moors in autumn--Mr. Thackeray's second lecture at Willis's
Rooms, and sensation produced by Currer Bell's appearance
there--Her account of her visit to London--She breakfasts with
Mr. Rogers, visits the Great Exhibition, and sees Lord
Westminster's pictures--Return to Haworth and letter thence--Her
comment on Mr. Thackeray's Lecture--Counsel on development of
character.

CHAPTER X.
Remarks on friendship--Letter to Mrs. Gaskell on her and Miss
Martineau's views of the Great Exhibition and Mr. Thackeray's
lecture, and on the "Saint's Tragedy"--Miss Bronte's feelings
towards children--Her comments on Mr. J. S. Mill's article on the
Emancipation of Women--More illness at Haworth Parsonage--Letter
on Emigration--Periodical returns of illness--Miss Wooler visits
Haworth--Miss Bronte's impressions of her visit to London--Her
account of the progress of Villette--Her increasing illness and
sufferings during winter--Her letter on Mr. Thackeray's Esmond--
Revival of sorrows and accessions of low spirits--Remarks on some
recent books--Retrospect of the winter of 1851-2--Letter to Mrs.
Gaskell on "Ruth."

CHAPTER XI.
Miss Bronte revisits Scarborough--Serious illness and ultimate
convalescence of her father--Her own illness--"Villette" nearly
completed--Further remarks on "Esmond" and "Uncle Tom's
Cabin"--Letter respecting "Villette"--Another letter about
"Villette"--Instance of extreme sensibility.

CHAPTER XII.
The biographer's difficulty--Deep and enduring attachment of Mr.
Nicholls for Miss Bronte--Instance of her self-abnegation--She
again visits London--Impressions of this visit--Letter to Mrs.
Gaskell--Reception of the critiques on
"Villette"--Misunderstanding with Miss Martineau--Letter on Mr.
Thackeray's portrait--Visit of the Bishop of Ripon to Haworth
Parsonage--Her wish to see the unfavourable critiques on her
works--Her nervous shyness of strangers, and its cause--Letter on
Mr. Thackeray's lectures.

CHAPTER XIII.
Letter to Mrs. Gaskell on writing fiction, etc.--The biographer's
account of her visit to Haworth, and reminiscences of
conversations with Miss Bronte--Letters from Miss Bronte to her
friends--Her engagement to Mr. Nicholls, and preparations for the
marriage--The marriage ceremony and wedding tour--Her happiness
in the married state--New symptoms of illness, and their
cause--The two last letters written by Mrs. Nicholls--An alarming
change--Her death.

CHAPTER XIV.
Mourners at the funeral--Conclusion.




CHAPTER I

During this summer of 1846, while her literary hopes were waning,
an anxiety of another kind was increasing. Her father's eyesight
had become seriously impaired by the progress of the cataract
which was forming. He was nearly blind. He could grope his way
about, and recognise the figures of those he knew well, when they
were placed against a strong light; but he could no longer see to
read; and thus his eager appetite for knowledge and information
of all kinds was severely balked. He continued to preach. I have
heard that he was led up into the pulpit, and that his sermons
were never so effective as when he stood there, a grey sightless
old man, his blind eyes looking out straight before him, while
the words that came from his lips had all the vigour and force of
his best days. Another fact has been mentioned to me, curious as
showing the accurateness of his sensation of time. His sermons
had always lasted exactly half an hour. With the clock right
before him, and with his ready flow of words, this had been no
difficult matter as long as he could see. But it was the same
when he was blind; as the minute-hand came to the point, marking
the expiration of the thirty minutes, he concluded his sermon.

Under his great sorrow he was always patient. As in times of far
greater affliction, he enforced a quiet endurance of his woe upon
himself. But so many interests were quenched by this blindness
that he was driven inwards, and must have dwelt much on what was
painful and distressing in regard to his only son. No wonder that
his spirits gave way, and were depressed. For some time before
this autumn, his daughters had been collecting all the
information they could respecting the probable success of
operations for cataract performed on a person of their father's
age. About the end of July, Emily and Charlotte had made a
journey to Manchester for the purpose of searching out an
operator; and there they heard of the fame of the late Mr. Wilson
as an oculist. They went to him at once, but he could not tell,
from description, whether the eyes were ready for being operated
upon or not. It therefore became necessary for Mr. Bronte to
visit him; and towards the end of August, Charlotte brought her
father to him. He determined at once to undertake the operation,
and recommended them to comfortable lodgings, kept by an old
servant of his. These were in one of numerous similar streets of
small monotonous-looking houses, in a suburb of the town. From
thence the following letter is dated, on August 21st, 1846:--

"I just scribble a line to you to let you know where I am, in
order that you may write to me here, for it seems to me that a
letter from you would relieve me from the feeling of strangeness
I have in this big town. Papa and I came here on Wednesday; we
saw Mr. Wilson, the oculist, the same day; he pronounced papa's
eyes quite ready for an operation, and has fixed next Monday for
the performance of it. Think of us on that day! We got into our
lodgings yesterday. I think we shall be comfortable; at least our
rooms are very good, but there is no mistress of the house (she
is very ill, and gone out into the country), and I am somewhat
puzzled in managing about provisions; we board ourselves. I find
myself excessively ignorant. I can't tell what to order in the
way of meat. For ourselves I could contrive, papa's diet is so
very simple; but there will be a nurse coming in a day or two,
and I am afraid of not having things good enough for her. Papa
requires nothing, you know, but plain beef and mutton, tea and
bread and butter; but a nurse will probably expect to live much
better; give me some hints if you can. Mr. Wilson says we shall
have to stay here for a month at least. I wonder how Emily and
Anne will get on at home with Branwell. They, too, will have
their troubles. What would I not give to have you here! One is
forced, step by step, to get experience in the world; but the
learning is so disagreeable. One cheerful feature in the business
is, that Mr. Wilson thinks most favourably of the case."

"August 26th, 1846.

"The operation is over; it took place yesterday Mr. Wilson
performed it; two other surgeons assisted. Mr. Wilson says, he
considers it quite successful; but papa cannot yet see anything.
The affair lasted precisely a quarter of an hour; it was not the
simple operation of couching Mr. C. described, but the more
complicated one of extracting the cataract. Mr. Wilson entirely
disapproves of couching. Papa displayed extraordinary patience
and firmness; the surgeons seemed surprised. I was in the room
all the time; as it was his wish that I should be there; of
course, I neither spoke nor moved till the thing was done, and
then I felt that the less I said, either to papa or the surgeons,
the better. Papa is now confined to his bed in a dark room, and
is not to be stirred for four days; he is to speak and be spoken
to as little as possible. I am greatly obliged to you for your
letter, and your kind advice, which gave me extreme satisfaction,
because I found I had arranged most things in accordance with it,
and, as your theory coincides with my practice, I feel assured
the latter is right. I hope Mr. Wilson will soon allow me to
dispense with the nurse; she is well enough, no doubt, but
somewhat too obsequious; and not, I should think, to be much
trusted; yet I was obliged to trust her in some things. . . .

"Greatly was I amused by your account of ----'s flirtations; and
yet something saddened also. I think Nature intended him for
something better than to fritter away his time in making a set of
poor, unoccupied spinsters unhappy. The girls, unfortunately, are
forced to care for him, and such as him, because, while their
minds are mostly unemployed, their sensations are all unworn,
and, consequently, fresh and green; and he, on the contrary, has
had his fill of pleasure, and can with impunity make a mere
pastime of other people's torments. This is an unfair state of
things; the match is not equal. I only wish I had the power to
infuse into the souls of the persecuted a little of the quiet
strength of pride--of the supporting consciousness of superiority
(for they are superior to him because purer)--of the fortifying
resolve of firmness to bear the present, and wait the end. Could
all the virgin population of ---- receive and retain these
sentiments, he would continually have to veil his crest before
them. Perhaps, luckily, their feelings are not so acute as one
would think, and the gentleman's shafts consequently don't wound
so deeply as he might desire. I hope it is so."

A few days later, she writes thus: "Papa is still lying in bed,
in a dark room, with his eyes bandaged. No inflammation ensued,
but still it appears the greatest care, perfect quiet, and utter
privation of light are necessary to ensure a good result from the
operation. He is very patient, but, of course, depressed and
weary. He was allowed to try his sight for the first time
yesterday. He could see dimly. Mr. Wilson seemed perfectly
satisfied, and said all was right. I have had bad nights from the
toothache since I came to Manchester."

All this time, notwithstanding the domestic anxieties which were
harassing them--notwithstanding the ill-success of their
poems--the three sisters were trying that other literary venture,
to which Charlotte made allusion in one of her letters to the
Messrs. Aylott. Each of them had written a prose tale, hoping
that the three might be published together. "Wuthering Heights"
and "Agnes Grey" are before the world. The third--Charlotte's
contribution--is yet in manuscript, but will be published shortly
after the appearance of this memoir. The plot in itself is of no
great interest; but it is a poor kind of interest that depends
upon startling incidents rather than upon dramatic development of
character; and Charlotte Bronte never excelled one or two
sketches of portraits which she had given in "The Professor",
nor, in grace of womanhood, ever surpassed one of the female
characters there described. By the time she wrote this tale, her
taste and judgment had revolted against the exaggerated idealisms
of her early girlhood, and she went to the extreme of reality,
closely depicting characters as they had shown themselves to her
in actual life: if there they were strong even to coarseness,--as
was the case with some that she had met with in flesh and blood
existence,--she "wrote them down an ass;" if the scenery of such
life as she saw was for the most part wild and grotesque, instead
of pleasant or picturesque, she described it line for line. The
grace of the one or two scenes and characters, which are drawn
rather from her own imagination than from absolute fact stand out
in exquisite relief from the deep shadows and wayward lines of
others, which call to mind some of the portraits of Rembrandt.

The three tales had tried their fate in vain together, at length
they were sent forth separately, and for many months with still-
continued ill success. I have mentioned this here, because, among
the dispiriting circumstances connected with her anxious visit to
Manchester, Charlotte told me that her tale came back upon her
hands, curtly rejected by some publisher, on the very day when
her father was to submit to his operation. But she had the heart
of Robert Bruce within her, and failure upon failure daunted her
no more than him. Not only did "The Professor" return again to
try his chance among the London publishers, but she began, in
this time of care and depressing inquietude, in those grey,
weary, uniform streets; where all faces, save that of her kind
doctor, were strange and untouched with sunlight to her,--there
and then, did the brave genius begin "Jane Eyre". Read what she
herself says:--"Currer Bell's book found acceptance nowhere, nor
any acknowledgment of merit, so that something like the chill of
despair began to invade his heart." And, remember it was not the
heart of a person who, disappointed in one hope, can turn with
redoubled affection to the many certain blessings that remain.
Think of her home, and the black shadow of remorse lying over one
in it, till his very brain was mazed, and his gifts and his life
were lost;--think of her father's sight hanging on a thread;--of
her sister's delicate health, and dependence on her care;--and
then admire as it deserves to be admired, the steady courage
which could work away at "Jane Eyre", all the time "that the
one-volume tale was plodding its weary round in London."

I believe I have already mentioned that some of her surviving
friends consider that an incident which she heard, when at school
at Miss Wooler's, was the germ of the story of Jane Eyre. But
of this nothing. can be known, except by conjecture. Those to
whom she spoke upon the subject of her writings are dead and
silent; and the reader may probably have noticed, that in the
correspondence from which I have quoted, there has been no
allusion whatever to the publication of her poems, nor is there
the least hint of the intention of the sisters to publish any
tales. I remember, however, many little particulars which Miss
Bronte gave me, in answer to my inquiries respecting her mode of
composition, etc. She said, that it was not every day, that she
could write. Sometimes weeks or even months elapsed before she
felt that she had anything to add to that portion of her story
which was already written. Then, some morning, she would waken
up, and the progress of her tale lay clear and bright before her,
in distinct vision. when this was the case, all her care was to
discharge her household and filial duties, so as to obtain
leisure to sit down and write out the incidents and consequent
thoughts, which were, in fact, more present to her mind at such
times than her actual life itself. Yet notwithstanding this
"possession" (as it were), those who survive, of her daily and
household companions, are clear in their testimony, that never
was the claim of any duty, never was the call of another for
help, neglected for an instant. It had become necessary to give
Tabby--now nearly eighty years of age--the assistance of a girl.
Tabby relinquished any of her work with jealous reluctance, and
could not bear to be reminded, though ever so delicately, that
the acuteness of her senses was dulled by age. The other servant
might not interfere with what she chose to consider her exclusive
work. Among other things, she reserved to herself the right of
peeling the potatoes for dinner; but as she was growing blind,
she often left in those black specks, which we in the North call
the "eyes" of the potato. Miss Bronte was too dainty a
housekeeper to put up with this; yet she could not bear to hurt
the faithful old servant, by bidding the younger maiden go over
the potatoes again, and so reminding Tabby that her work was less
effectual than formerly. Accordingly she would steal into the
kitchen, and quietly carry off the bowl of vegetables, without
Tabby's being aware, and breaking off in the full flow of
interest and inspiration in her writing, carefully cut out the
specks in the potatoes, and noiselessly carry them back to their
place. This little proceeding may show how orderly and fully she
accomplished her duties, even at those times when the
"possession" was upon her.

Any one who has studied her writings,--whether in print or in her
letters; any one who has enjoyed the rare privilege of listening
to her talk, must have noticed her singular felicity in the
choice of words. She herself, in writing her books, was
solicitous on this point. One set of words was the truthful
mirror of her thoughts; no others, however apparently identical
in meaning, would do. She had that strong practical regard for
the simple holy truth of expression, which Mr. Trench has
enforced, as a duty too often neglected. She would wait patiently
searching for the right term, until it presented itself to her.
It might be provincial, it might be derived from the Latin; so
that it accurately represented her idea, she did not mind whence
it came; but this care makes her style present the finish of a
piece of mosaic. Each component part, however small, has been
dropped into the right place. She never wrote down a sentence
until she clearly understood what she wanted to say, had
deliberately chosen the words, and arranged them in their right
order. Hence it comes that, in the scraps of paper covered with
her pencil writing which I have seen, there will occasionally be
a sentence scored out, but seldom, if ever, a word or an
expression. She wrote on these bits of paper in a minute hand,
holding each against a piece of board, such as is used in binding
books, for a desk. This plan was necessary for one so
short-sighted as she was; and, besides, it enabled her to use
pencil and paper, as she sat near the fire in the twilight hours,
or if (as was too often the case) she was wakeful for hours in
the night. Her finished manuscripts were copied from these pencil
scraps, in clear, legible, delicate traced writing, almost as
easy to read as print.

The sisters retained the old habit, which was begun in their
aunt's life-time, of putting away their work at nine o'clock, and
beginning their study, pacing up and down the sitting room. At
this time, they talked over the stories they were engaged upon,
and described their plots. Once or twice a week, each read to the
others what she had written, and heard what they had to say about
it. Charlotte told me, that the remarks made had seldom any
effect in inducing her to alter her work, so possessed was she
with the feeling that she had described reality; but the readings
were of great and stirring interest to all, taking them out of
the gnawing pressure of daily-recurring cares, and setting them
in a free place. It was on one of these occasions, that Charlotte
determined to make her heroine plain, small, and unattractive, in
defiance of the accepted canon.

The writer of the beautiful obituary article on "the death of
Currer Bell" most likely learnt from herself what is there
stated, and which I will take the liberty of quoting, about Jane
Eyre.

"She once told her sisters that they were wrong--even morally
wrong--in making their heroines beautiful as a matter of course.
They replied that it was impossible to make a heroine interesting
on any other terms. Her answer was, 'I will prove to you that you
are wrong; I will show you a heroine as plain and as small as
myself, who shall be as interesting as any of yours.' Hence 'Jane
Eyre,' said she in telling the anecdote: 'but she is not myself,
any further than that.' As the work went on, the interest
deepened to the writer. When she came to 'Thornfield' she could
not stop. Being short-sighted to excess, she wrote in little
square paper-books, held close to her eyes, and (the first copy)
in pencil. On she went, writing incessantly for three weeks; by
which time she had carried her heroine away from Thornfield, and
was herself in a fever which compelled her to pause."

This is all, I believe, which can now be told respecting the
conception and composition of this wonderful book, which was,
however, only at its commencement when Miss Bronte returned with
her father to Haworth, after their anxious expedition to
Manchester.

They arrived at home about the end of September. Mr. Bronte was
daily gaining strength, but he was still forbidden to exercise
his sight much. Things had gone on more comfortably while she was
away than Charlotte had dared to hope, and she expresses herself
thankful for the good ensured and the evil spared during her
absence.

Soon after this some proposal, of which I have not been able to
gain a clear account, was again mooted for Miss Bronte's opening
a school at some place distant from Haworth. It elicited the
following fragment of a characteristic reply:--

"Leave home!--I shall neither be able to find place nor
employment, perhaps, too, I shall be quite past the prime of
life, my faculties will be rusted, and my few acquirements in a
great measure forgotten. These ideas sting me keenly sometimes;
but, whenever I consult my conscience, it affirms that I am doing
right in staying at home, and bitter are its upbraidings when I
yield to an eager desire for release. I could hardly expect
success if I were to err against such warnings. I should like to
hear from you again soon. Bring ---- to the point, and make him
give you a clear, not a vague, account of what pupils he really
could promise; people often think they can do great things in
that way till they have tried; but getting pupils is unlike
getting any other sort of goods."

Whatever might be the nature and extent of this negotiation, the
end of it was that Charlotte adhered to the decision of her
conscience, which bade her remain at home, as long as her
presence could cheer or comfort those who were in distress, or
had the slightest influence over him who was the cause of it. The
next extract gives us a glimpse into the cares of that home. It
is from a letter dated December 15th.

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