Dear Nell – during the last 6 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 indiscriminately 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. 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.
These enigmatic words would appear to mean that, as someone accustomed to exercising her own judgement and making her own decisions, Charlotte found the change to a dependent existence very difficult, but it does not necessarily follow that she regretted or was unhappy in her marriage. Indeed, exactly the opposite was the case. Had she had serious reservations about married life she would hardly have made playful references to Sutcliffe Sowden, the eligible bachelor who had married them, which suggest that she was already matchmaking between her own and her husband’s best friends. And she ended the letter with a glowing postscript: ‘Have I told you how much better Mr Nicholls is? He looks quite strong and hale – he gained 12 lbs during the 4 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.’44
Charlotte, too, was blossoming in her new married life. Patrick was unwell when they returned but under Charlotte’s solicitous care he soon recovered and was preaching again before the month was out. Arthur had started as he meant to go on and since their return he had taken over all the duries from Patrick: ‘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’, Charlotte told Miss Wooler gratefully.45 Every morning he was in the National School by nine o’clock where he taught religious instruction till ten thirty; almost every afternoon he spent visiting among the poor: ‘Of course he often finds a little work for his wife to do, and I hope she is not sorry to help him’.46
They were inundated with visitors and wellwishers. Among the first were Sutcliffe Sowden, who came over from Hebden Bridge for the day with a friend, and Mr and Mrs Grant who joined them for tea.47 So many parishioners called that the newly-weds decided to show their appreciation by inviting the scholars and teachers of the Sunday and day schools, the church bellringers and singers et al., to a tea and supper in the schoolroom in Church Lane. Five hundred people attended, as Charlotte proudly told Miss Wooler:
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 him as ‘a consistent Christian and a kind gentleman.’ I own the words touched me – 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 now. If I can do so with sincerity and conviction seven years – or even a year hence – I shall esteem myself a happy woman.48
The same thought, that a happy marriage was better than anything success as a novelist had to offer, was echoed a month later in another letter to Miss Wooler.
You ask what visitors we have had? – A good many amongst the clergy &c. in the neighbourhood, but none of note from a distance. Haworth is – as you say – a very quiet place; it is also difficult of access, and unless under the stimulus of necessity or that of strong curiosity – or finally that of true and tried friendship – few take courage to penetrate to so remote a nook. Besides, now that I am married I do not expect to be an object of much general interest. Ladies who have won some prominence (call it either notoriety or celebrity) in their single life – often fall quite into the background when they change their names; but if true domestic happiness replace Fame – the exchange
The extraordinary thing is not that Charlotte was so very happy in her married life but that she was so busy. It was not as if her domestic role had changed dramatically: the parson’s daughter had simply become the curate’s wife. It was still the same round of entertaining visiting clergy, organizing parish tea-drinkings, teaching in the schools and visiting the poor. The only difference was that in the past these duties had been performed unwillingly and had been so uninteresting to her that they barely merited a mention in her correspondence. Now, they assumed such importance in her life that she could fill a whole letter recounting them.50 As the parson’s daughter she had been expected to do them; as the curate’s wife she wanted to do them to please her husband. Suddenly she discovered that there was a social life in Haworth after all.
Despite her absorption in her married life, Charlotte did not forget her friends. Ellen was invited to the parsonage early in September, though she was unable to come until the twenty-first of the month;51 she seems to have stayed a fortnight, during which Charlotte and her husband tried to foster the apparent liking between her and Sutcliffe Sowden. Arthur had earlier announced his intention of taking ‘sundry rather long walks’ during Ellen’s stay ‘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 S— seemed perfectly acquiescent’. Mr Sowden did not take the bait: future letters from him proved ‘uninteresting’, a sure sign that they contained no reference to Ellen.52
Even while Ellen was still at Haworth, Charlotte was busy inviting Mrs Gaskell and her husband to stay: ‘Come to Haworth as soon as you can find a fitting time –’, she pleaded. ‘My Father – all in this house who have once seen you, wish to see you again. My husband does not know you yet, but when he does know you, he will feel as others feel; besides I want you to see him.’ To her everlasting regret, Mrs Gaskell did not take up the invitation, citing ‘some little obstacle’, which, in fact, was her new enthusiasm for Florence Nightingale, whose family she stayed with twice in October.53
Hard on Ellen’s heels, the Taylors visited Haworth. They came for a day on 10 October in order to arrange a more prolonged visit. Arthur’s first meeting with Amelia was not auspicious. She was currently ‘worshipping’ and ‘assiduously cultivating’ one of her husband’s former flames which Charlotte thought ‘strained – odd – unnatural’. Arthur, however, was ‘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.’54 He did not have time to do so for, only a week later, Joe escorted his family over and left them to stay at the parsonage for a few days. ‘We got on with them better than I expected’, Charlotte reported to Ellen, little ‘Tim’, in particular, captivating the Brontë household.
Tim behaved capitally on the whole. She amused Papa very much – chattering 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 A’s look at first – but she improved on them – I think.
It was Charlotte’s unguarded comments in this letter that sparked off the old animosity between Ellen and Arthur again.
Arthur has just been glancing over this note – He thinks I have written too freely about Amelia &c. Men don’t seem to understand making letters a vehicle of communication – they always 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 recommendation he has just given ‘fire them’ – or ‘there will be no more.’ such is his resolve. I can’t help laughing – this seems to me so funny. Arthur however
f concern.55
Ellen took an equally serious view of the matter, particularly when Arthur pressed the point a few days later.
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.
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
Write him out his promise on a separate slip of paper, in a legible hand – and send it in your next.56
Charlotte clearly saw no difficulty in this: she seems to have regarded her letters to Ellen as personal and ephemeral and therefore not worth keeping. The fact that none of Ellen’s letters to her are extant suggests that Charlotte did not keep them57, which perhaps explains her lack of concern over whether her own were destroyed or not. Ellen, however, was furious. She had carefully hoarded all Charlotte’s letters over the years and, as her friend had become famous, regarded them as doubly precious. Arthur placed her on the horns of a dilemma. She could give the promise and be forced to destroy all Charlotte’s future letters or she could refuse and, with Arthur as self-elected censor, be deprived of all the intimate details which made her friend’s correspondence so individual and so much fun. Doubtlessly cursing Arthur with every word, she wrote out her promise: ‘My dear Mr Nicholls, As you seem to hold in great horror the ardentia verba of feminine epistles, I pledge myself to the destruction of Charlotte’s epistles, henceforth, if You pledge yourself to no censorship in the matter communicated – Yours very truly, E Nussey.’ The Jesuitical phrasing of the promise was deliberate. Ellen had no intention of burning Charlotte’s letters, and (to take a kindly view) convinced herself that Arthur censored his wife’s future letters. She later wrote upon the note when it was returned to her, ‘Mr N. continued his censorship so the pledge was void.’58
Completely unaware that Ellen had no intention of destroying his wife’s letters, Arthur accepted the note at face value. ‘Arthur thanks you for the promise’, Charlotte told her,’ … on my asking him 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’”.59
The flurry of visits to Haworth Parsonage continued. Early in November, Sutcliffe Sowden came over again, bringing his younger brother, George, who was also in clerical orders. They stayed the night, and Charlotte was careful to pass on that ‘Mr S asked after “Miss Nussey”.’60 A few days later, Sir James Kay Shuttleworth and an unnamed friend descended and stayed the weekend. There was a reason for the visit. Unable to patronize ‘Currer Bell’ as he wished, he was now trying to patronize her husband. He had built a grand new church on his doorstep at Padiham and hoped that Arthur would accept the living, which was worth £200 a year, double his current salary. Had there been no other reason – and one cannot imagine that Charlotte could have borne the dependency implied in such an arrangement – the fact that Arthur had promised not to leave Haworth during Patrick’s lifetime would have prevented him accepting the offer.61 Sir James then asked Arthur – somewhat half-heartedly, one feels, having not gained his real object – to recommend another clergyman for the post. Not unnaturally, Arthur thought of Sutcliffe Sowden, for whom the increase in income would be particularly welcome, but the transparency of Sir James’s dealings soon became clear as obstacles were suddenly raised and the post was eventually offered elsewhere.62
The happiness of Charlotte’s married life had transformed her health. Writing to Miss Wooler in the middle of November, a time when, since the death of her sisters, she had always been ill, she claimed that ‘for my own part – it is long since I have known such comparative immunity from headache, sickness and indigestion, as during the last three months’. ‘My life is different to what it used to be –’, she added. ‘May God make me thankful for it! I have a good, kind, attached husband, and every day makes my own attachment to him stronger.’63
Though he could not accompany her because of his duties in Haworth, Arthur had agreed that Charlotte should go on a visit to the Nusseys and the Taylors in November. This had to be deferred, ironically, because there was serious illness at both Brookroyd and Hunsworth. The first delay was caused by Joe Taylor falling ill of a gastric fever and being carried off to Scarborough on medical advice.64 Charlotte had several distraught letters from Amelia and, as Joe was patently dangerously ill, she replied as comfortingly as she could. ‘You never were more thoroughly right in your thoughts than when you believed I cared for yourself and Joe – that I do with my whole heart’, she declared.
I have known Joe above twenty years and differed from him and been enraged with him and liked him and cared for him as long – and you dear – Amelia – well – I will just say this – I can now realize how Joe will appreciate the value of a nature genuinely affectionate – which will adhere to him the closer and love him the better because there is something to be done for him – In high health – there might have been women who would give life more brilliancy – in sickness – no wife could be better than Joe’s own actual wife.65
Scarborough had no effect and the Taylors returned to Hunsworth, where Joe began to make preparations for his death. Amelia was in despair. Again Charlotte wrote to comfort her: she was convinced that his recovery was not only possible but probable. She warned Amelia not to let Joe ‘quit his hold upon life in thought nor entirely relax his will to live’, explaining that ‘A mental tendency inherited from his Mother will dispose him to do this too soon. He must remember it is better for his wife, better for his child – better for many that he should live. He may feel that he can already lie down serene and fearless by his Father and Grandfather – but others may find it too difficult and dreary to live on after he has left them.’66
Charlotte had put off going to Brookroyd because she had wanted to go on to Hunsworth on the same trip from home. Then came news that Mercy Nussey was also ill. Ellen reported that she was suffering from a low fever; Arthur was not happy at the idea of Charlotte being exposed to any contagion, ‘fever – you know is a formidable word’, though she herself was unconcerned. Fortunately, before she had fixed her plans to go to Brookroyd, a letter came from Miss Wooler warning them that Mercy’s fever was actually the deadly typhus. ‘I thank you very much for your truly kind warning’, Charlotte responded, ‘- and I believe my husband thanks you still more.’67 There was now absolutely no possibility of Charlotte going to Brookroyd, but she had difficulty making her excuses. It was not clear whether Ellen was actually aware that her sister had typhus and, if she did not know, then Charlotte had no wish to alarm her. She therefore wrote to defer the visit on the grounds that it was her husband’s wish that she should do so. ‘I shall not get leave to go to Brookroyd before Christmas now – so do not expect me’, she told Ellen, adding, without mentioning the fearful word ‘typhus’:
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 –
By making the decision appear to be simply a dictatorial whim on her husband’s part, Charlotte unintentionally fanned the flames of her friend’s hatred for Arthur. Ellen would never forgive him for depriving her of Charlotte’s last visit to Brookroyd. Nor did Charlotte help matters by referring to her husband as ‘my dear boy’ and ending her letter with a comment that made it clear to Ellen that her own place as Charlotte’s most intimate friend had been usurped.
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
Ellen’s role in Charlotte’s life had been reduced to a ‘little matter’ over which Arthur’s smallest desires took precedence.
The year seemed to be drawing to a gloomy close. Almost exactly three years to the day after the death of Keeper, Anne’s dog Flossy died. ‘Did I tell you that our poor little Flossy is dead?’ Charlotte asked Ellen. ‘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.’ Tabby, too, was ill, suffering from an attack of diarrhoea so severe that even though the Haworth doctor, Mr Ingham was ill himself, Charlotte wrote to ask him to prescribe her some medicine.69
Events outside Haworth, too, could not fail to impinge on the household. The news from the Crimea was appalling. Though the British had succeeded in repulsing two Russian attacks at Balaclava and Inkerman, their casualties (including, most famously, the victims of the Charge of the Light Brigade) had been immense and they had failed to take Sebastopol. Devastated by disease, without the resources or medical supplies to sustain a winter campaign and their lines of provision cut off by the hostile weather, the soldiers were dying in their hundreds. Any linGéring illusions about the glory of war which Charlotte had once cherished had long since been crushed. ‘I say nothing about the War’, she told Miss Wooler,
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