Brontës (66 page)

Charlotte may have told rather less than the truth when she described her sole failings as being ‘shy and sometimes melancholy. According to Mrs Sidgwick, ‘Miss Brontë often went to bed all day and left her to look after the children at a time when she was much occupied with her invalid father, Mr Greenwood, at Swarcliffe'. As Mrs Sidgwick was also into the last few weeks of her fifth pregnancy, she had every right to remonstrate with her recalcitrant governess.
⁹⁴
The Sidgwicks' account of their governess differs little from Charlotte's version of events in fact, but much in interpretation. ‘Mrs Sidgwick told me that Miss Brontë had a most unhappy difficult, temper, and that she took offence where no offence was meant'. ‘My cousin [John] Benson Sidgwick, now vicar of Ashby Parva, certainly on one occasion threw a Bible at Miss Brontë! and all that another cousin can recollect of her is that if she was invited to walk to church with them, she thought she was being ordered about like a slave; if she was not invited, she imagined she was excluded from the family circle.'
⁹⁵
Habits of subservience did not come naturally to Charlotte and one can well imagine that her resentment at being treated as a servant would be readily apparent to her employers.

Though Charlotte was clearly an awkward person to deal with, she had much to put up with in her role as governess. She later told Mrs Gaskell of an incident that occurred in the stableyard where her pupil John had been lured by his older brother, against the express prohibition of his parents. Egged on by his brother, the boy began throwing stones at Charlotte as she tried to make him leave. One of them hit her so hard on the temple that the boys were frightened into obedience. The next day, when Mrs Sidgwick asked her what had caused the mark on her forehead, Charlotte simply said, ‘An accident, ma'am.' The boys, relieved that she had not ‘told tales', proved more tractable thereafter and Charlotte, as she herself admitted, began to find them ‘a little more manageable' than at first.
⁹⁶
The most infamous incident, however, again reported by Mrs Gaskell, happened one day at dinner when little John Sidgwick put his hand into Charlotte's and said, ‘I love 'ou, Miss Brontë.' ‘Whereupon, the mother exclaimed, before all the children, “Love the
governess
, my dear!”'
⁹⁷

Such public humiliations burnt deep into Charlotte's soul. Her attitude to Mr Sidgwick was much less critical. ‘One of the pleasantest afternoons' she spent at Stonegappe was when Mr Sidgwick went out walking with his
children ‘and I had orders to follow a little behind'. For once, apparently, this did not pique her pride, for the snobbish element in her character took pleasure in the sight of Mr Sidgwick: ‘As he strolled on through his fields with his magnificent Newfoundland dog at his side, he looked very like what a frank, wealthy, Conservative gentleman ought to be'.
⁹⁸

Charlotte's sufferings with the Sidgwicks were fortunately of short duration. The engagement was only to last until the permanent governess returned and so, by the middle of July, she was back at home, probably to the relief of all concerned. No doubt in the mood for celebration, it was appropriate that she was just in time for a grand concert in Haworth Church. On Tuesday, 23 July 1839, John Frobisher, the leading light in Halifax musical circles, conducted a selection of sacred music: the principal singers were Haworth's own Thomas Parker and Miss Milnes, a well-known Yorkshire performer.
⁹⁹
The ‘oratorio' met with universal approval, though it did not even merit a mention from Charlotte. She had a new scheme to occupy her mind. On her return, she had been ‘almost driven … “clean daft”' by a proposal from Ellen Nussey that the two of them should go off to Cleethorpes for a holiday. Ellen suggested three weeks, but Charlotte found it impossible to offer more than a week. The plan came to nothing, to Charlotte's intense frustration, because Patrick and Aunt Branwell had decided that the whole family should take their first ever holiday together. This was probably a response to all the ill health which had plagued the younger members of the family while away from home and an attempt to give a treat to Anne, who was on her annual leave from Blake Hall. A holiday was not only desirable, from every point of view, but was now a practical possibility as Patrick had a new curate coming to assist him in a few weeks' time. Aunt Branwell insisted that Charlotte should give up the Cleethorpes scheme, but suggested that Ellen should accompany them to Liverpool.
¹⁰⁰

By 4 August, there was still no sign of the Brontës going to Liverpool. ‘The Liverpool journey is yet a matter of talk a sort of castle in the air—', Charlotte told Ellen,

but between you and I, I fancy it is very doubtful whether it will ever assume a more solid shape – Aunt – like many other elderly people – likes to talk of such things but when it comes to putting them into actual practice she rather falls off.
¹⁰¹

In the end, Branwell got tired of waiting for the elders to decide and took himself off to Liverpool in the more congenial company of one of the Merrall brothers. There, at his father's request, he went to St Jude's Church to take notes on a sermon given by the renowned Evangelical preacher, the Reverend H. McNeile. In the first recorded instance of Branwell's taking opium, Leyland reported that Branwell resorted to the drug to alleviate an attack of tic, a severe form of neuralgia and muscular spasm in the face. Later, while wandering through the town, he saw a copy of one of his favourite oratorios, Handel's
Samson
, displayed in a shop window and begged the wealthy Merrall to buy it and the sheet music for several other oratorios and masses. In return, he offered to paint Merrall's portrait, adorning each corner with the names of Bach, Mozart, Haydn and Handel in honour of his friend's musicianship.
¹⁰²
Doubtless, they also took the boat trips from Liverpool across the Irish Sea to the Isle of Man and along the north coast of Wales, which were one of the chief reasons for visiting the country's second largest and busiest port.

Charlotte, in the meantime, reverted with some relief to her original plan. Instead of Cleethorpes, however, on the recommendation of Mary Taylor, they chose to go to Bridlington on the east Yorkshire coast. Charlotte did not care where they went, so long as she could get her first glimpse of the sea: ‘the idea of seeing the SEA – of being near it – watching its changes by sunrise, Sunset – moonlight – & noonday – in calm – perhaps in storm – fills & satisfies my mind', she told Ellen, ‘I shall be discontented at nothing –.'
¹⁰³

While the plans were yet evolving, Charlotte had an adventure which, as she laughingly told Ellen Nussey, more nearly resembled one of the pert and pretty Martha Taylor's than her own. The Reverend William Hodgson, Patrick's first curate, had come over from Colne to spend the day at the parsonage and he brought with him his own curate, a young Irish clergyman, fresh from Dublin University, called Mr Pryce. He proved to be witty, lively, ardent and clever too; he quickly made himself at home and evidently found the company congenial.

at home you know Ellen I talk with ease and am never shy – never weighed down & oppressed by that miserable mauvaise honte which torments & constrains me elsewhere – so I conversed with this Irishman & laughed at his jests – & though I saw faults in his character excused them because of the amusement his originality afforded –
¹⁰⁴

A few days later, Charlotte received a letter addressed in a mysterious hand which turned out to be a proposal of marriage from young Mr Pryce: ‘well thought I – I've heard of love at first sight but this beats all. I leave you to guess what my answer would be –', she told Ellen, ‘convinced that you will not do me the injustice of guessing wrong.' It was perhaps fortunate that Charlotte's interest had not been awakened, for less than six months later poor Mr Pryce was dead. ‘Though I knew so little of him, and of course could not be deeply or permanently interested in what concerned him – I confess when I suddenly heard he was dead, I felt both shocked and saddened. it was no shame to feel so, was it?'
¹⁰⁵

Charlotte's second adventure, her holiday with Ellen, was beset with setbacks and difficulties. She could not get herself over to Leeds in time for the day Ellen first proposed and then, when another had been fixed and all seemed settled, she discovered that the only gig let out on hire in Haworth was in Harrogate and she had no means of getting to Birstall for the next two weeks. Her father, quite rightly, objected to her travelling by coach and walking to Birstall and her aunt ‘exclaims against the weather and the roads and the four winds of Heaven'. Now that there was a real difficulty in getting there, the elders were more decidedly opposed to a trip of which they had never really approved.

Papa indeed would willingly indulge me, but this very kindness of his makes me doubt whether I ought to draw upon it – & though I could battle out Aunt's discontent I yield to Papa's indulgence – He does not say so but I know he would rather I stayed at home –
¹⁰⁶

In the end, and to the surprise of everyone concerned, Ellen acted with uncharacteristic determination and carried the day. She borrowed her brother's carriage, drove over to Haworth and arrived on the parsonage doorstep, ready to carry Charlotte off. Branwell praised Ellen's courage: ‘it was a brave defeat', he declared, ‘that the doubters were fairly taken aback'.
¹⁰⁷

The journey to Bridlington did not pass without incident, justifying her father's and aunt's concern about two unaccompanied young ladies travelling by public transport. The first part of the journey, from Leeds to York, was by railway – Charlotte's first experience of this new mode of transport – but the rest of the way had to be travelled by stagecoach. Unfortunately the coach was full, and though Ellen and Charlotte were sent on in an open fly,
Mr and Mrs Hudson, friends of Henry Nussey who were waiting to meet them, missed them. They therefore left orders at the hotel where the fly was due to arrive that the two young ladies should be sent on in a post chaise to their own home, Easton Farm, which lay two or three miles from Bridlington. To their intense frustration, Charlotte and Ellen found themselves being driven away from the seaside, the principal object of their holiday, to the Hudsons' farm where they were ‘detained' for a whole month. Though hospitably entertained and being held as ‘captive guests' from the best possible motives, their chagrin was immense. Two days after their arrival, they walked to the coast and there Charlotte had her first glimpse of the sea. The emotion of this longed-for moment overpowered her, rendering her speechless and reducing her to tears.
¹⁰⁸
Weeks later, she still fed on the vision:

Have you forgot the Sea by this time Ellen? is it grown dim in your mind? or you can still see it dark blue and green and foam-white and hear it – roaring roughly when the wind is high or rushing softly when it is calm?
¹⁰⁹

Even when writing to Henry Nussey, to congratulate him on his having at last secured a bride, she could not resist dwelling on the thought of the sea.

I will not tell you what I thought of the Sea – because I should fall into my besetting sin of enthusiasm. I may however say that its glorious changes – its ebb and flow – the sound of its restless waves – formed a subject for Contemplation that never wearied either the eye – the ear or the mind[.]
¹¹⁰

The month at Easton Farm passed pleasantly enough, with long walks through Harlequin Wood, to Boynton and the sea. Charlotte even whiled away part of the time by painting a watercolour of their hosts sitting in front of Easton Farm and a portrait of Mrs Hudson.
¹¹¹

This was all very well, but it was not what Charlotte and Ellen had intended; they were anxious to be independent and they wanted to be by the sea. Eventually they managed to persuade their over-zealous hosts to let them go into lodgings for a week in Bridlington. The rooms they chose were in Garrison Street at Bridlington Quay, ‘a neat handsome little town' about a mile from Bridlington itself. The Quay enjoyed direct access to the harbour, its northernmost pier commanded beautiful views of Flamborough Head and its mineral springs were highly regarded for their
health-giving properties. It was the ideal place ‘for persons who have a taste for the peaceful and sequestered scenes of life'.
¹¹²
They soon learnt the hard way how well they had been looked after at Easton Farm. Despite daily visits from the Hudsons, bearing gifts from their dairy, the bill for only a week's lodgings used up their entire stock of funds. Nevertheless, this part of the holiday lived up to all their expectations. The sea was on hand for endless contemplation and Charlotte also took great pleasure in watching the seaside visitors. The evening ritual of the promenade greatly amused her, as so many people crowded on to the little pier that they had to march round in regular file in order to be able to walk at all. Typically, too, when they returned to their lodgings one evening and heard a Ranters' meeting in full flow in the chapel opposite, Charlotte was ‘wild' to go in and see what they were about. She was only restrained by the reflection, probably uttered by the more prudent Ellen, that it was wrong to criticize or ridicule people acting on a religious impulse.
¹¹³

Charlotte returned to Haworth in mid-October, invigorated by her holiday and ‘very fat', her usual description for being in good health.'
¹¹⁴
The rest of the autumn she passed quietly enough, like Emily, deeply absorbed in her writing. Emily had written prolifically since leaving Law Hill, developing particularly her interest in the doomed Byronic characters which prefigured the creation of Heathcliff.