Sir James was not one to be put off by the reluctance of a potential literary trophy, however, and, though the visit had to be deferred because of his ill health, he ‘persisted in coming’ and eventually came ‘boring to Haworth’. Charlotte’s impressions of him were no more favourable on meeting him. ‘The baronet looks in vigorous health’, she remarked sardonically to Ellen, adding that he looked thirty-five rather than his forty-four years. ‘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’, she airily concluded, having done exactly that, ‘I will not prejudge him.’ During the visit, the Kay Shuttleworths had renewed their invitation to Charlotte in her father’s presence and, to her infinite dismay, Patrick took their side at once. Her best excuse had been unceremoniously rendered useless. Charlotte miserably admitted ‘this left me without plea or defence’. She flatly refused to go with them there and then, but reluctantly agreed to go the next day.6
Charlotte travelled by train from Keighley to Burnley, where she found Sir James waiting for her. A drive of about three miles brought them to the gates of Gawthorpe where the long drive up a ‘somewhat desolate avenue’ did not prepare Charlotte for her first stunning view of the hall towering ‘grey, antique, castellated and stately before me’. Built at the turn of the seventeenth century, three storeys high with a central tower, graced with mullioned windows and lacy stone balustrades, Gawthorpe Hall is still the ‘model of old English architecture’7 Charlotte saw; surrounded by woods on three sides, it opens out on the fourth giving picturesque prospects across the fields and valleys towards the mist-shrouded summit of louring Pendle Hill. Inside, it is as grand as it is beautiful, with intricate plaster ceilings and oak-panelled rooms all bearing the Shuttleworth family crest. It was no wonder that Charlotte was impressed: Gawthorpe Hall was the embodiment of those Angrian mansions Branwell had so loved to describe.
‘On the whole’ Charlotte decided she got on very well with Sir James, admiring his clear intellect, highly cultivated mind and polished manners. Nevertheless, the nicest thing she could think of to say about him was that ‘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 –’. His wife, to whom the house and ancient family actually belonged, was less aristocratic in manner than her husband: frank, good-humoured and active, she was the perfect foil to her politician husband whose illness had fretted his nerves to the point of irritability. Their four children were all fine ‘in their way’, but the person whom Charlotte instinctively liked better than anyone else in the house was the governess, a quiet, intelligent young German girl, who also took an immediate liking to Charlotte. ‘She is very well treated for a governess –’, Charlotte told Ellen, ‘but wore the usual pale, despondent look of her class – She told me she was home-sick – and she looked so.’8
The ‘quiet drives to old ruins and old halls amongst older hills and woods’ were the best part of her visit. Writing to thank Lady Kay Shuttleworth on her return, Charlotte said:
My visit to Gawthorpe has left me certain images – certain pictures pleasant to contemplate: your grey, stately hall fills one page of my mental Sketch-book, Whalley Abbey another, Mytton Hall a third, the tombs of the Sherburns a fourth and old Pendle swells in every background.9
Once the visit was over, Charlotte was ‘as usual, glad I have been’, and she acknowledged the wisdom of Patrick’s insistence that she should go when she confessed to Ellen:
The brief absence from home – though in some respects trying and painful in itself – has I think given a better tone to my spirits – All through the month of Feby I had a crushing time of it – I could not escape from or rise above certain most mournful recollections – the last 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.
On her return, Charlotte found a pile of letters waiting for her, positive proof that she had not been forgotten by her friends. As well as a parcel from Ellen, there were letters from Laetitia Wheelwright and Amelia Ringrose, from two people she had never met, Thornton Hunt and Miss Alexander, and, to her great joy, from Williams and George Smith.10
Thornton Hunt, the journalist son of Leigh Hunt, had sent a note requesting Charlotte to write for the new journal, the Leader, which he was just setting up with G. H. Lewes. Charlotte declined the offer, as she did all serial writing, knowing that she could not write to journalistic deadlines. Thornton Hunt’s strictures on ‘Art’, expressed in his letter, had puzzled Charlotte: ‘There is a certain jargon in use amongst critics on this point, through which it is physically and morally impossible for me to see daylight’, she told George Smith.
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
She also told George Smith of an observation that had been made to her on her visit to Gawthorpe Hall which had struck her by its truth: ‘while the people in the South object to my delineation of Northern life and manners, the people of Yorkshire and Lancashire/ approve: they say it is precisely that contrast of rough Nature with highly artificial cultivation which forms one of
In replying to Miss Alexander, Charlotte revealed the difference that a few short weeks had made to her position. Miss Alexander, daughter of a Wakefield doctor, had written to her directly, instead of through Smith, Elder & Co., at the end of January. Charlotte had not replied because at that point she was still hoping that she might yet remain anonymous. Indeed, only a few days afterwards, she had written a peremptory note in answer to a query from a Mr Lovejoy in which she had ‘respectfully suggested that as “Currer Bell” is the only name which has been acknowledged in connection with the authorship of “Jane Eyre” and “Shirley” that name alone can with propriety be printed in a Library Catalogue’. She had added darkly, ‘Rumour must at all times be regarded as an unsafe guide.’ Now, however, there was little point in maintaining the facade, so Miss Alexander received an acknowledgement of her second letter.12
Another pleasure was a new parcel of twenty books from Smith, Elder & Co., ranging from weighty tomes such as the three-volume Life of Southey by his son, Hazlitt’s Essays and Charles Lamb’s Letters, to novels such as Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility and Meinhold’s Amber Witch. Williams and James Taylor had included several books on feminine issues: Julia Kavanagh’s Woman in France during the Eighteenth Century, Alexander Scott’s Suggestions on Female Education and the ominously titled Woman’s Friendship and Woman and her Master. ‘I wonder how you can choose so well’, Charlotte told Williams, ‘on no account would I forestall the choice.’13 Writing a few weeks later when she had read Jane Austen’s Emma, she anatomized the vast gulf that lay between their different styles of writing.
She does her business of delineating the surface of the lives of genteel English people curiously well; there is a Chinese
n seat of Life and the sentient target of Death – this Miss Austen ignores … 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.14
The arrival of a new parcel of books was particularly welcome because the keen frosts and dreaded cold easterly winds which ushered in the month of April as usual brought illness in their wake. ‘Low fever’, which was rife in the township, also made its way into the parsonage, affecting Charlotte, Patrick and Martha.15 This was an opportune moment for Benjamin Herschel Babbage, an inspector commissioned by the General Board of Health in London, to arrive in Haworth to investigate the water supply and sanitary conditions. Patrick had campaigned long and hard to get this inspection: he and Arthur Nicholls, with the local surgeons, Dr Hall and Dr Wheelhouse, had headed a petition to the General Board of Health for assistance in procuring a better water supply on 29 August 1849.16 On 5 February 1850 he had written to complain that ‘Having long since petitioned for an authorized Agent, to come and look into our situation, with regard to a sufficient supply of pure water, we are much disappointed, at not having seen any such Agent, nor having got any satisfactory answer to our petition.’ Babbage eventually turned up on 4 April, producing a damning report which fully justified all Patrick’s concerns about the poor state of health in Haworth. As Patrick had all too good a reason to know, the mortality rate was ten and a half per cent higher than that laid down in law as being so unhealthy as to require special remedies. The report, when it was eventually printed, recommended the installation of sewers, a piped-water supply and at least one water closet for every three houses, the setting up of a public slaughterhouse and the immediate closure of the churchyard.17
The general malaise was not confined to Haworth for, at this juncture, Ellen Nussey too fell seriously ill.18 Contending against colds, headaches, loss of appetite and her anxiety about Ellen, Charlotte’s spirits sank again. Having complained when there were no letters from London, she now complained that there were too many, including ‘some very bothering ones from people who want opinions about their books’. Unconscious of the irony that she herself had once been an aspiring author who had persistently sought the opinions of the literary giants of the day and waited in desperation for a reply, she now abused those who turned to her: ‘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.’19
One small bright spot – which Charlotte evidently did not consider worth reporting even to Ellen – was the second anniversary soirée of the Haworth Mechanics’ Institute, which took place on the evening of 1 April. Michael Merrall, Branwell’s childhood friend, was Treasurer of the Institute and had invited speeches from Patrick, Joseph Grant from Oxenhope and William Armstrong, a surgeon from Kirkby Malzeard, who had been a prime mover in setting up the institute. Patrick’s speech was, ‘as usual, characterised by the sterling good sense which his great experience as an observer of human nature, and his general tact in delineating the workings of the mind so fully capacitate him for’; Grant ‘spoke ably on the advantages of knowledge’ as did William Armstrong, but it was the last who brought the house down. ‘His complimentary observations on the writings of the author of “Shirley” were responded to by the most enthusiastic applause, which would no doubt be very gratifying to Miss Brontë.’20 Charlotte may not have liked the public nature of this acclamation, but she could not fail to appreciate the spirit which had prompted it.
She dreaded the prospect of another journey to London for the same reason. Sir James Kay Shuttleworth was determined that she should go in his company and that he would ‘introduce’ her to society. He had begun his campaign to persuade her during her visit to Gawthorpe Hall, but knowing full well that he intended to parade her as his prize, she had then ‘given notice’ that she would not be ‘lionized’. Sir James was not to be denied. He bombarded her with invitations, ignoring her obvious reluctance and overriding all her objections. The parties would only be small, he declared, and she ought to regard the visit strictly in the light of a lesson which would inform her future writing. Her father, pleased at this attention and anxious that she should not allow herself to sink into depression and apathy at Haworth, was ‘eager and restless’ for her to go; ‘the idea of a refusal quite hurt him’.21 In the face of such overwhelming odds, Charlotte capitulated and agreed to go at the beginning of May.
Circumstances were to work against her, however. Ellen’s illness took a more serious turn and her symptoms, relayed by letter, sounded alarmingly like Anne’s. Charlotte urged her to consult Mr Teale instead of her cousin, Mr Carr, in whom Charlotte had lost all confidence since the business with Patrick’s cataracts; ‘as to trifling with serious illness, the thought makes one sick –’. Learning of Mr Carr’s prescriptions, she remarked in disgust, ‘I abhor and distrust their “strong medicines.” He is not dealing with a horse or an elephant,’22 When Ellen did not improve, Charlotte panicked and, deciding that her friend must be at death’s door, she dropped everything and rushed over to Brookroyd to see the invalid for herself. Her fears had been unnecessary for, after six days, she accompanied Ellen to Leeds where her friend was well enough to undergo a ‘dentist-operation’.23
Charlotte returned home to find her father ill with a bad cold which threatened to develop into bronchitis. While he was still in bed the following day Joe Taylor arrived on another of his capricious visits and treated Charlotte to a four-hour diatribe on the subject of his plans to marry Amelia Ringrose. He arrived in an ‘odious humour’ and within ten minutes was abusing ‘old Ringrose’, who kept putting difficulties in his way. Charlotte sat quietly, ‘minding her sewing’ and trying to keep her patience, but the fact was she had long since lost any sympathy with Joe Taylor’s marital ambitions. After his visit to Tranby to meet Mr Ringrose in the new year, Charlotte had noticed with dismay that his attitude towards the whole affair was increasingly selfish and imbued with ‘a sort of unmanly absence of true value for the woman whose hand he seeks’. Charlotte grew ‘more and more convinced that his state of mind approximates that which was so appallingly exhibited in
Amelia, whom she had never met but with whom she had occasionally corresponded, seemed to be the only pure thing involved: ‘she stands between her coarse father and cold, unloving suitor like innocence between a pair of world-hardened knaves’, Charlotte told Ellen. What really infuriated her was the financial bargaining that was going on behind the scenes, particularly as Joe Taylor had been less than candid in telling Amelia about his prospects. ‘If J. T. 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?’ she demanded angrily, then, working herself up into a passion, she continued:
After all J.T. is perhaps only like the majority of men: certainly those men who lead a gay life in their youth and arrive at middle age with feelings blunted and passions exhausted can have but one aim in marriage – the selfish advancement of their interest; And to think that such men take as
Conscious that she had hardly been discreet, Charlotte added, ‘Burn this note the minute you have read it – it is written under excitement’, an injunction which Ellen ignored.25 Though Charlotte expressed herself freely to Ellen, she could hardly do the same to Amelia, who constantly solicited her advice. ‘Be cautious bu
t not timid, watchful but not suspicious’ was the only opinion she would give, a Delphic utterance which, not unnaturally, threw Amelia into a panic. Charlotte refused to be drawn any further, contenting herself – if not Amelia – by saying that the pair should be left to manage their own affairs and neither matchmaker nor match-marrer should step between.26 Even as Joe Taylor visited her, Charlotte was still being inundated with notes, letters and gifts from his prospective bride. ‘I sometimes find it difficult to answer her letters – but am always touched by
It was perhaps an indication of the general irritation which the Taylor – Ringrose marriage inspired in her that Charlotte, somewhat unfairly, blamed Joe for the fact that all the household fell sick shortly after his visit: ‘he seemed to bring a lot of illness with him into the house’, she remarked darkly. She herself had a bad cold and stubborn sore throat, Martha had sickness, fever and the tic-doloureux, a severe form of facial neuralgia which brought on muscular spasms, Patrick was still bronchitic and only Tabby escaped unscathed.28
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