The return from London inevitably brought on a depression of spirits, not least because it fell only a few days before the first anniversary of Emily’s death. In the past Charlotte had always doubled her pleasure from excursions into society by faithfully describing all she had seen and heard to Emily.85 That pleasure was now denied her, but she had seen and done so much that she needed a receptive female companion to whom she could confide her impressions and opinions, relive her experiences and chat inconsequentially. She therefore turned to Ellen, asking her to come over to Haworth as soon as possible and offering to send the Haworth gig to collect her from Keighley station so that she need not walk the final four miles.86
The day before Charlotte wrote to Ellen, Patrick, whose thoughts must also have been preoccupied with the anniversary of his daughter’s death on the morrow, wrote a hymn affirming his faith in God and His Church. Though the Christmas message of new life and hope must have been peculiarly poignant in the light of his recent bereavements, Patrick’s faith never wavered:
Then welcome with pleasures profound
The joys which the season commands.
Let Christ and His love be our theme,
Let earth with its cares pass away,
Let heavenly thoughts be our dreams,
And practice our duty by day.
Patrick had the first five verses of the hymn printed for use in the Christmas services at church and also sent a complete copy to the Leeds Intelligencer, where the lines were published under his initials on 22 December.87
Ellen arrived five days later for a stay of three weeks.88 The friends had much to talk about, for as well as all the excitement of Charlotte’s London visit there was the distinct prospect of a marriage between mutual friends, Joe Taylor and Amelia Ringrose. Amelia’s original engagement to Ellen’s brother, George, had been reluctantly broken off when it became evident that he was unlikely either to regain his sanity or to return from Dr Belcombe’s asylum near York. For the last two months, Joe Taylor had been paying her an increasing amount of attention, much to Charlotte’s amusement. ‘Take notice – you will see more of Mr Joe’, she had written in one of her brief letters to Amelia, without disclosing that Joe had actually written to her asking her opinion of Miss Ringrose. She had replied with a ‘faithful opinion’, but had refrained from asking why he wanted it. ‘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.’ Whether Charlotte’s opinion carried any weight or not, the two had become informally engaged by the beginning of December, leading Charlotte to say, ‘I do not like to think about it – I shudder sometimes.’89 She was therefore extremely put out when, virtually unannounced, Joe Taylor arrived for dinner one day shortly after her return from London. The ostensible purpose of his visit was to invite Charlotte to spend Christmas in Birmingham with the Dixons, the Taylors’ cousins who had befriended Charlotte in Brussels. In fact he was about to go to Hull to ask Amelia’s father formally for his consent to their marriage and, knowing that Mr Ringrose was a notoriously difficult character, he wanted Charlotte’s advice on how to proceed. As he left he promised to return while Ellen was staying at Haworth to let them know the outcome of his visit.90
Writing to Williams on 3 January 1850, Charlotte apologized for her tardy response to his letter: ‘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’. ‘When I first saw Ellen I did not care for her –’, Charlotte confessed to Williams,
we were schoolfellows – in the course of time we learnt each others 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
While Ellen’s friendship was undoubtedly genuine and based on many years’ standing, Charlotte’s new-found fame as an author allowed Ellen to bask in reflected glory. The deaths of her sisters had deprived Charlotte of her most intimate companions and Ellen now willingly filled their place, gaining a higher level of Charlotte’s affection and confidence than might otherwise have been the case.
An early indication of Ellen’s newly acquired status came during her visit to Charlotte, when she received a letter from the vicar of Birstall. ‘Fame says you are on a visit with the renowned Currer Bell’, William Margetson Heald had written, before asking her to get Charlotte to identify all the originals of the characters in Shirley. He had just discovered that he himself featured in the novel as Mr Hall, admitting ‘In that Mr Hall is represented as black, bilious & of dismal aspect, stooping a trifle & indulging a little now & then in the indigenous dialect, – this seems to sit very well on your humble servant’. Mr Heald himself had recognized many of the characters in the book, though he defended Hammond Roberson against his unflattering portrayal as Mr Helstone, declaring that Charlotte had evidently got her impressions of him through an unfriendly medium and did not understand the full value of ‘one of the most admirable characters I ever knew or expect to know’. As he had become part of ‘Currer Bell’s’ stock-in-trade himself, ‘tho’ I had no idea that I should ever be made a means to amuse the public’, Mr Heald thought he had ‘an equitable claim to this intelligence by way of my dividend’. Fortunately, he took the whole affair in good part, ending his letter with the comment, ‘One had need “walk … warily in these dangerous days” when as Burns (is it not he?) says
“A chield’s among you taking notes
and faith he’ll prent it” –’.92
Someone else who took his portrayal in Shirley in remarkably good part was Arthur Bell Nicholls, the curate of Haworth. He got to know about the novels earlier than anyone else in Haworth and, as Charlotte herself was unlikely to have confided in him, it was probably Patrick who, unable to contain his pride in his daughter’s reception among the London literati, had told her secret to his curate. He immediately got hold of Jane Eyre and, having read it, was soon ‘crying out for the “other book” – … much good may it do him’, Charlotte commented truculently.93 Her description of his reaction to Shirley is deservedly famous, though it is rarely pointed out that it gives a much more attractive portrait of Mr Nicholls than the dour, doctrinaire one of Brontë legend.
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 question. No matter.94
Perhaps encouraged by Mr Nicholls’ reaction, Patrick had also informed his old friend, William Morgan, that his daughter was the acclaimed author of Jane Eyre. Much to Charlotte’s surprise, since she regarded him as a stuffy and bombastic pedant, he too reacted favourably, writing to her ‘not in blame but in the highest strain of eulogy –! he says it thoroughly fascinated and enchained him – &c. &c. &c.’95
What little remained of Charlotte’s secret was finally blown away at the beginning of February. She glumly reported the circumstance to Ellen, who was now back at Brookroyd.
Martha came in yesterday – puffing and blowing and much excited – ‘I’ve heard sich news’ she began – ‘What about?’ ‘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 Bradford – and they are going to have a meeting at the Mechanics’ Institute and to settle about ordering them.’
‘Hold your tongue, 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 & deliver me!96
The news spread like wildfire throughout the township and soon all Haworth was clamouring to read Miss Brontës clever books. ‘The Haworth People have been making great fools of themselves about “Shirley” –’, Charlotte told Ellen,
they take it in an enthusiastic light – when they got the Vols. at the Mech[anics’] Instn all the members wanted them – they cast lots for the whole three – and whoever got a vol. was only allowed to keep it two days and to be fined a shilling per diem for longer detention – It would be mere nonsense and vanity to tell you what they say.97
Though Charlotte pretended to scoff at the reaction of her neighbours to the discovery that their parson’s daughter was a famous author, she was nevertheless grateful for their enthusiasm and for their pride in her books, not least because it was a source of ‘reviving pleasure’ to her father in his old age. She was particularly touched by the ‘artless and earnest, genuine and generous’ testimony of one of the poor working men of the township. A Dissenter to whom she had not spoken above two or three times in her life, he had a mind ‘too keen for his frame’ and could barely support his large family. After reading Jane Eyre he had written a record of his feelings, and this, by fair means or foul and without his knowledge, had come into Charlotte’s hands. He had not dared give it to her himself, saying ‘Miss Brontë if she knew he had written it would scorn him’, but Charlotte considered it ‘one of the highest, because one of the most truthful and artless tributes her work has yet received’; ‘I value it more than testimonies from higher sources’, she told Williams.98
Another working man who had read Jane Eyre and Shirley was prompted to write to his local paper when his suspicions that he knew the author were confirmed by articles in the press. As he was ‘a factory boy’ who had emigrated from Haworth and now lived in Spencer, Massachusetts, his letter had peculiar interest for Charlotte, who was sent a copy by Smith, Elder & Co. As she said, it was a ‘curious mixture of truth and inaccuracy’, vividly recalling Patrick’s features, hearing him preach, his failing sight and his cataract operation, but having ‘no very particular recollection’ of his children. Indeed, the writer only remembered the son who ‘came home a year or two ago, having just finished his education. He was thought to be an able artist’, and two daughters ‘who lived in Bradford … although they have made the tour of Europe’. Oddly, his most enduring image of the sisters – and one which occurs again and again in contemporary recollections – is that of the sisters taking their daily walk with their favourite dog.99
Though it might be expected that local people would be proud of Charlotte Brontës success, it was surprising that this seems to have extended even to those who should have been mortified by their own portrayal in Shirley.
The very Curates – poor fellows! shew no resentment; each characteristically 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 fidgetted about the neighbourhood in some 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 one good scene at the least with him, but as yet nothing of the sort has occurred – and if the other curates do not tease him into irritation, he will remain quiet now.100
As if the local furore were not enough, Charlotte’s ‘anchorite seclusion’ at Haworth was also under threat. ‘One or two curiosity-hunters have made their way to Haworth Parsonage’, she reported to Williams, adding somewhat optimistically, ‘– but our rude hills and rugged neighbourhood will I doubt not form a sufficient barrier to the frequent repetition of such visits’.101
Among those who braved the hills was the Reverend Andrew Cassels, who arrived unannounced just after dinner one afternoon, demanded to see Mr Brontë and was shown into the parlour where he talked for an hour ‘in a loud vulgar key’. Consumed with curiosity, Charlotte interrogated Martha as to who the visitor was: ‘Some mak’ of a tradesman’, she had replied, ‘he’s not a gentleman I’m sure’. When Charlotte took her tea with her father, she discovered that the caller was the vicar of Batley though Martha, with her usual forthrightness, declared he looked no more like a parson than she did. Even Patrick had to admit that he was ‘rather shabby-looking’ and amused Charlotte by telling her that Cassels had tried to induce him to dine at the Black Bull that evening by offering him ‘two or three bottles of the best wine Haworth could afford!’ Though he professed to have come to view the scenery, the real purpose of his visit was to invite Patrick to Batley, telling him, by way of a corollary, to bring his daughter with him.102
Any lingering hopes that it might be possible to retain at least some measure of local anonymity were soon to be dashed. On 28 February 1850, the Bradford Observer trumpeted:
It is understood that the only daughter of the Rev P Bronté, incumbent of Haworth is the authoress of Jane Eyre and Shirley, two of the most popular novels of the day, which have appeared under the name of ‘Currer Bell’.103
The power to walk invisible had finally been withdrawn.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE SOCIETY OF CLEVER PEOPLE
While Ellen Nussey stayed at Haworth, Charlotte had managed to keep reasonably cheerful. Once she had gone, depression began to creep in. Anxious to keep it at bay, and remembering how her work had been her saviour through the dark days of the previous year, Charlotte attempted to make a start on her next novel. Without her almost visionary imaginative power to aid her, however, the words, the characters, the scenes would not come and she abandoned the effort after two or three attempts.1
Charlotte’s gloom was not helped by an unaccountable silence from Smith, Elder & Co. Now that the publication of Shirley was out of the way and her visit was over, there was really no need for a continuation of the correspondence except as a token of friendship. The complete absence of letters for over a month was therefore both galling and distressing and Charlotte was very much ashamed to discover how dependent upon their stimulus she had become. Day after day she waited for the post with rising expectation, only to have her hopes dashed once more. ‘This is a stupid, disgraceful, unmeaning state of things –’, she wrote angrily to Ellen, ‘I feel bitterly enraged at my own dependence and folly – It is so bad for the mind to be quite alone – to have none with whom to talk over little crosses and disappointments and laugh them away. If I could write I daresay I should be better but I cannot write a line.’2
In this mood, Charlotte took violent exception to a well-meaning letter from poor Miss Wooler, who had written to assure her former pupil that ‘in spite of all I had gone and done in the writing line – I still retained a place in her esteem’. Charlotte wrote her a crushing reply.
You seem to think that I had feared some loss in your esteem owing to my being the reputed Author of this book [Jane Eyre] – such a fear – one so unjust to both you and myself, never crossed my mind.
When I was in London – a woman whose celebrity is not wider than her moral standing is elevated – and in each point she has no living superior – said to me ‘I have ever observed that it is to the coarse-minded alone – “Jane Eyre” is coarse.’ This
Charlotte’s omissi
on of her defender’s name was deliberate: Harriet Martineau, however renowned and morally elevated, was also an avowed atheist whose arguments would carry no weight with readers of the conservative Quarterly Review.
Patrick was deeply concerned to see Charlotte’s growing despondency and, in his own quiet way, did what he could to relieve it. ‘A few days since a little incident happened which curiously touched me’, Charlotte told Ellen,
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 to peruse now for the first time the records of a mind whence my own sprang – and most strange – and at once sad and sweet to find that mind of a truly fine, pure and elevated order. They were written to papa before they were married – there is a rectitude, a refinement, a constancy, a modesty, a sense – a gentleness about them indescribable. I wished She had lived and that I had known her.4
Patrick’s sensitive and delicate gesture was probably prompted by his recent reading of Shirley, in which he recognized in Caroline’s longing for her mother something of the depth of loss Charlotte herself had sustained when her own mother had died so young.
Having seen the beneficial effects of Charlotte’s visit to London, Patrick was also keen to ensure his daughter took another trip from home. Since the New Year, she had had at least two invitations to Gawthorpe Hall, the home of Sir James and Lady Kay Shuttleworth, which lay just across the moors over the Lancashire border at Padiham near Burnley. Sir James was a medical doctor who had taken an active and pioneering role as Secretary to the Committee of the Council on Education; ill health, brought on by overwork, had compelled him to resign the secretaryship the previous year and he had then been made a baronet. Now, fretting in the provinces, he had had the immense good fortune to find the literary sensation of the decade living on his doorstep and he was determined to take ‘Currer Bell’ under his wing. When Charlotte declined his first invitation, he declared his intention to call on her instead. Charlotte could hardly refuse to receive him but her reply was not encouraging: ‘my only regret and scruple’, she told Lady Kay Shuttleworth, in whose name the letter had been written, ‘is that it should be so little worth your while to undertake such a journey’.5
Brontës Page 95
