Brontës
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As an American, James Hoppin, too, was welcomed to the parsonage, though he had not wished to intrude and had not sought a meeting. Patrick, however, ‘thought much of America’ and he enjoyed a brief conversation with his guest during which he quizzed him about the great spiritual movements which from time to time passed over America. Interestingly, he expressed the belief that revivalist movements, though real enough, were accompanied by ‘too much animal excitement’. ‘He struck me as being naturally a very social man,’ Hoppin later observed, ‘with a mind fond of discussion, and feeding eagerly on new ideas, in spite of his reserve.’21
Yet another American, less tactful than Hoppin, was determined not to leave Haworth without seeing Charlotte Brontës husband and father. Henry Jarvis Raymond, editor of the New York Times, called at the parsonage and presented his card. The words ‘New York’, as Arthur later told him, were sufficient to ensure him a welcome. Like the correspondent of the Bradford Observer, this journalist was also forced to conclude that Mrs Gaskell had somewhat overstated her case. ‘I remarked … that I had been agreeably disappointed in the face of the country and the general aspect of the town, that they were less sombre and repulsive than Mrs Gaskell’s descriptions led me to expect. Mr Nicholls and Mr Brontë smiled at each other, and the latter remarked: “Well, I think Mrs Gaskell tried to make us all appear as bad as she could”.’22
The Americans appear to have been amongst Charlotte’s greatest admirers, not only making their way to Haworth to visit her home but constantly importuning for her autograph. Arthur, who regarded everything his wife had written as sacrosanct, could not be induced to part with any of her manuscripts and it was left to Patrick to cut up one of the few letters he had retained into small fragments to satisfy the demand.23
Life in Haworth, though changed for ever by Mrs Gaskell’s Life of Charlotte Brontë, gradually resumed an even tenor. Improvements were constantly being made, despite resistance from the town rate-payers. A Haworth Gas Company was established in 1857 which made and stored gas to supply lighting for the streets and those who could afford to light their houses. An unfortunate incident marred the introduction of such an important amenity: a director of the company ‘incautiously’ applied a light to gas leaking from a pipe in the street, causing a serious explosion in which a passer-by was severely injured. A year later, the new little reservoir behind the parsonage, for which Patrick had campaigned so long, was completed, at last providing Haworth with a constant supply of sweet and fresh piped water.24 The Mechanics’ Institute was increasingly prosperous and successful: it had a library, news room and reading room and sponsored a series of lectures for its members and their guests.25 Music continued to flourish: old Tom Parker was still alive and giving the occasional recital, but Haworth had a new and rising musical star, John Earnshaw, who gave a grand classical concert in the National School room on 18 October 1858. As a pupil of the Keighley violinist, J.T. Carrodus, who was now engaged by the Royal Italian Opera and the Philharmonic Concerts in London, he was able to prevail upon his teacher and the extensive and equally musical Carrodus family to play.26
Outside the township, the increasing prosperity and importance of Bradford was reflected in the calibre of literary celebrities who were now being attracted to the place. William Makepeace Thackeray, Charles Dickens and John Ruskin, who had regarded Charlotte’s provincialism with varying degrees of scorn, were now frequent visitors to Halifax and Bradford, where they lectured and read to the assembled Yorkshire masses.27 One of the strangest of all manifestations of nascent Brontë worship also took place in Bradford where, on 4 January 1859, Gerald Massey, the poet of the Chartist and Christian Socialist movements, lectured the members and friends of the Bradford Mechanics’ Institute on the subject of’Charlotte Brontë’. Though his lecture was little short of a eulogy, one cannot help wondering how he justified describing Charlotte’s life to an audience which must have contained many who had known the Brontës personally and included at least one, Nancy Garrs, who was in a far better position to tell that story than him. He seems to have been impervious to such considerations – and to the sensitivities of Charlotte’s father and husband living so near at hand – because four days later he repeated the lecture at the Mechanics’ Institute in Keighley.28 John Milligan, the Keighley surgeon who chaired the latter meeting, seems to have felt some sense of shame, sending Patrick a modern medical work in what could be construed as a gesture of apology. Even more extraordinary was the fact that Massey actually seized the opportunity to pay a visit to the parsonage. Up to that point, he had relied solely on the first edition of Mrs Gaskell for his information on the Brontës’ childhood and their father’s supposedly reclusive and explosive temperament. At least he had the intelligence to realize, on meeting Patrick, that Mrs Gaskell’s account of him was a travesty and the grace to amend his portrayal of the father of the Brontës for future lectures.29
Far from dying away, interest in the Brontës intensified with the passing of time. The fact that they had written so little only seems to have increased the public desire to see more of their work. In August 1859, for example, Abraham Holroyd, a Bradford antiquarian who was friendly with the Garrs family and had once met Charlotte Brontë, reprinted Patrick’s little pamphlet The Cottage in the Wood?30 Patrick could not flatter himself that the decision to republish owed anything to the literary or moral merits of the story: it was saleable purely and simply on its curiosity value as a work by the father of Charlotte Brontë.
More importantly, George Smith approached Arthur to inform him that he was planning to start a new periodical, the Cornhill Magazine, and suggested that he might like to send the two chapters of Charlotte’s last unfinished novel for inclusion. The idea seems to have come indirectly from Mrs Gaskell, who had wanted to add it as an appendix to the new, cheap edition of her Life of Charlotte Brontë’to make the book more attractive, & likely to sell’. George Smith had initially asked her to approach Arthur with the idea of her editing it for the Cornhill but she objected: ‘I am afraid of Mr Nicholls,’ she told him, ‘& I think you would be more likely to get him to grant you a favour than I; and perhaps even you more likely if you did not name my name.’31 Accepting the validity of her argument, George Smith wrote to Arthur himself and suggested that Thackeray, Charlotte’s hero, should be invited to write an introduction.
Perhaps somewhat to Smith’s surprise, Arthur leapt at the proposal and, even more surprisingly, volunteered a vivid description of how Charlotte had read the manuscript to him in the winter of 1854, which Thackeray was to use almost verbatim in his introduction. He transcribed the manuscript himself and posted it off to George Smith three days later, together with a diffidently offered suggestion that the Cornhillmight be interested in some of the poems by Emily, Anne and Branwell that he had in his possession.32 A few days later, he reluctantly sent the original manuscript with a wistfully expressed plea that ‘If you do not very much wish to retain
Both he and Patrick were thrilled to receive a letter from Thackeray explaining his new role as editor of the Cornhill and his hopes for its future: ‘Mr Brontë was wonderfully pleased with the talent & tact displayed in it.’ The first issue was equally warmly welcomed, both men finding something to their personal taste in articles on the volunteer movement and microscopic studies.34 When ‘The Last Sketch’ had not appeared in the second issue, however, Arthur assumed that Smith, Elder & Co. had decided against publishing it and peremptorily demanded the return of the proofs. A soothing explanation from George Smith produced an apologetic climb-down, ‘as I had rea
lly no great wish for its publication, I was desirous of giving you an opportunity of reconsidering the propriety of inserting it in your Magazine’.35 ‘The Last Sketch’ finally appeared towards the end of March i860, prefaced by Thackeray’s generous and deeply personal tribute to Charlotte. Both Patrick and Arthur were moved to express their gratification: ‘what he has written, does honour both to his head, and heart’, pronounced Patrick, while Arthur added, ‘Mr Thackeray’s introductory remarks to “The Last Sketch” are greatly admired in this neighbourhood; for my own part I feel that I am deeply indebted to him for them’.36
The pride and satisfaction which this publication gave Arthur, which was in such strong contrast to his reaction to Mrs Gaskell’s biography, led him to offer the Cornhilla. number of other works by Charlotte and Emily Brontë. The poems were always offered tentatively and humbly: if they were accepted, Arthur read the proofs and submitted willingly to editorial changes; if they were rejected, he at once acquiesced in the decision. Over the next eighteen months two poems by Charlotte and one by Emily were published in the magazine.37 These were carefully selected, not only for their merit but also for their lack of autobiographical content. Only too well aware of the pain that personal revelation could cause, Arthur was meticulous in avoiding causing hurt or offence to others. For this reason, he submitted nothing by Branwell, despite enquiries about his manuscripts.
In October 1859, for instance, Richard Monckton Milnes who, as well as being a Member of Parliament was also a man of letters, came to Haworth specifically to see Branwell’s papers, his curiosity having been aroused when Mrs Gaskell allowed him to look through the material lent to her for her biography. William Brown showed him Branwell’s letters to his brother38 and Arthur evidently consulted him on the propriety of publishing some of Branwell’s other work. What this was can only be guessed. Though it may only have been some of his poems to Mrs Robinson, it is more likely that it was part of the vast collection of letters, sketches and poems inherited by Francis Leyland from his brother, Joseph, which he was anxious to publish as a corrective to Mrs Gaskell. Writing to thank Richard Monckton Milnes for his advice, Arthur declared:
Neither Mr Brontë nor I have any intention of publishing them: indeed we had some time ago already refused to allow them to be printed: for leaving their merit as literary Compositions out of the question altogether, we saw plainly that their subject could not fail to give pain to some persons – We are therefore glad to find that your opinion fully demonstrates the propriety of our decision.39
Patrick’s health was, by this time, beginning to fail. He had performed his last marriage as long ago as February 1857, his second to last baptism two months later and his last burial on 26 October 1858, Arthur having taken over all the duties on his behalf. The only reason he performed his last baptism as late as 14 November 1859 was to save Arthur from dire consequences. John Greenwood, determined to ensure that his claims to friendship with Charlotte should not be forgotten, decided to call his youngest child ‘Brontë Greenwood’. Not surprisingly, Arthur, who had been deeply annoyed to discover Greenwood’s role as informant to Mrs Gaskell and Harriet Martineau, declared that he would not christen the baby with that name. The matter was left unresolved until the infant was nine months old; he then started to ail and, fearing that he would not live, Patrick summoned the Greenwoods to the parsonage and privately baptized him. When Arthur discovered the entry in the register, he was apparently extremely angry and was only appeased when Patrick pointed out how awkward it would have been for him if the little boy had died unchristened.40
It was about this time, too, that Patrick had to give up his last and most important role as a clergyman. On 30 October 1859, he preached his final sermon from the pulpit of Haworth Church. The occasion was not a formal leave-taking, it was simply that this was the last occasion on which he was well enough to walk to the church and address the congregation.41 The winter of 1859 proved to be unusually severe and Patrick was confined to the house with his usual bronchial complaints. He was not actually ill – indeed, at the end of January, Arthur reported that he was ‘wonderfully well’ even though he was approaching his eighty-third birthday. A month later he confirmed ‘Mr Brontë continues pretty well – He has been much confined to the house this winter owing to the very severe frost. I hope that with the return of a milder season he will be able to resume his afternoon Sermon.’42
This was not to be, however, for by the beginning of August Patrick was virtually confined to bed. Indeed, he was so much of an invalid that when the Bishop of Ripon came to Haworth to conduct the first confirmation in the township since 1824, he was unable to participate in the proceedings. It was therefore left to Arthur to conduct a mass baptism of thirteen young people the day before the actual confirmation service and to host the visit, though the bishop made a point of visiting Patrick in his bedroom before he left Haworth.43 Such a sign of weakness in Patrick was so uncharacteristic that rumours were already flying around that he was on the point of death. Indeed, one local paper even reported that it believed Arthur would become the next incumbent of Haworth, provoking an indignant response that ‘he had no expectation of obtaining the appointment’.44 There was therefore almost a palpable air of disappointment when Patrick recovered enough to be able to take a turn round the garden and, assisted by his son-in-law, even a short walk along the footpath leading to the moor. ‘If Mr Brontë continues to improve in the same ratio as he has done of late,’ declared the Bradford Observer, ‘he will preach again, an event which no one in Haworth would have considered possible a few weeks ago.’45
The following month he was well enough to write a brief note to Mrs Gaskell,46 but when she and her daughter, Meta, arrived to visit him on 25 October i860, he was again confined to bed. Mrs Gaskell had had considerable doubts about going to Haworth, not surprisingly being somewhat afraid to come face to face again with the man she had so traduced in her biography. Under pressure from Meta, who was anxious to meet the old man, Mrs Gaskell eventually decided that it was better ‘to brave his displeasure if there were any, and to please him by the attention if there were none’. When they arrived, having taken a fly from Keighley station, they were obliged to wait a quarter of an hour in the dining room before Martha at last escorted them upstairs. Meta was most favourably impressed:
we were taken into his bedroom; where everything was delicately clean and white, and there he was sitting propped up in bed in a clean nightgown, with a clean towel laid just for his hands to play upon – looking Oh! very different from the stiff scarred face above the white walls of cravat in the photograph – he had a short soft white growth of beard on his chin; and such a gentle, quiet, sweet, half-pitiful expression on his mouth, a good deal of soft white hair, and spectacles on. He shook hands with us, and we sat down, and then said how glad he was to see Mama – and she said how she had hesitated about coming, – feeling as if he might now have unpleasant associations with her – which never seemed to have entered his head – then he asked her how, since he last saw her, she had passed through this weary and varied world – in a sort of half-grandiloquent style – and then interrupting himself he said ‘but first tell me how is that young lady, whose friend went to the Massacres in India?’ I thought he meant the Ewarts, or something, and was quite surprised (besides other things) when Mama pointed to me, and said I was here, and then he prosecuted his inquiries about the engagement, and its breaking off; and then turned round and told me that he hoped I would forget the past; and would hope – that we ought all to live on hope.—
Patrick told the Gaskells how he had had so many applications for Charlotte’s handwriting that he was obliged to cut up her letters into strips of a line each and again averred that ‘the Memoir s a book which will hand your name down to posterity’. Harking back, as he always did with visitors, to his own portrayal, he complained that the statement that he had not allowed his children to eat meat had given ammunition to the Wilson camp in their attempts to defend the Clergy D
aughters’ School. They discussed politics and Thackeray’s notice in the Cornhill until Patrick dropped a strong hint that it would be desirable for them to leave in the next five minutes or so, which his guests understood to mean that Arthur was due home from school. Though Meta was evidently rather taken with Patrick, her mother was surprisingly unpleasant about him. ‘He is touchingly softened by illness;’ she told Williams, ‘but still talks in his pompous way, and mingles moral remarks and somewhat stale sentiments with his conversation on other subjects.’ Clearly she had already forgotten how surprised and pleased she had been by the way he had behaved ‘like a brick’ when she was under pressure from all sides about the first edition of the biography.47
After they left the parsonage, the Gaskells went to pay a visit to John Greenwood, where they were informed, at passionate length, about Arthur’s furious reaction to the baptism of young Brontë Greenwood. Mrs Gaskell had evidently still not learnt that John Greenwood was a partial and hostile observer, for she accepted his account without question because it confirmed her own prejudices. ‘Mr Nicholls seems to keep him [Patrick] rather in terrorerri, she announced, misinterpreting Patrick’s natural anxiety that his son-in-law should not be upset by an unexpected confrontation with Charlotte’s biographer for fear of Arthur’s anger. ‘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.’ Even Meta seems to have been infected by Greenwood’s bile, commenting on the Brontë Greenwood story, ‘this is a specimen of Mr N’s sullen, obstinate rooted objection to any reverence being paid to Miss B. one might almost say at any rate to people caring to remember her as an authoress’.48 It was a pity the Gaskells could not have talked to some of the Americans who had been welcomed to the parsonage by Charlotte Brontës husband.