Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated) (588 page)

‘Do you think in a few weeks it will be possible for you to come to see me?  I am only waiting to get my labour off my hands to permit myself the pleasure of asking you.  At our house you can read as much as you please.

‘I have been much better, very free from oppression or irritation of the chest, during the last fortnight or ten days.  Love to all. — Good-bye, dear Nell.

‘C. B.’

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘
August
23
rd
, 1849.

‘Dear Ellen, — Papa has not been well at all lately — he has had another attack of bronchitis.  I felt very uneasy about him
 
for some days, more wretched indeed than I care to tell you.  After what has happened, one trembles at any appearance of sickness, and when anything ails papa I feel too keenly that he is the
last
, the
only
near and dear relation I have in the world.  Yesterday and to-day he has seemed much better, for which I am truly thankful.

‘For myself, I should be pretty well but for a continually recurring feeling of slight cold, slight soreness in the throat and chest, of which, do what I will, I cannot quite get rid.  Has your cough entirely left you?  I wish the atmosphere would return to a salubrious condition, for I really think it is not healthy.  English cholera has been very prevalent here.

‘I
do
wish to see you.’

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘
August
16, 1850.

‘Dear Nell, — I am going on Monday (D.V.) a journey, whereof the prospect cheers me not at all, to Windermere, in Westmoreland, to spend a few days with Sir J. K. S., who has taken a house there for the autumn and winter.  I consented to go with reluctance, chiefly to please papa, whom a refusal on my part would have much annoyed; but I dislike to leave him.  I trust he is not worse, but his complaint is still weakness.  It is not right to anticipate evil, and to be always looking forward in an apprehensive spirit; but I think grief is a two-edged sword — it cuts both ways: the memory of one loss is the anticipation of another.  Take moderate exercise and be careful, dear Nell, and — Believe me, yours sincerely,

‘C. Brontë.’

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘
May
10
th
, 1851.

‘DEAR NELL, — Poor little Flossy!  I have not yet screwed up nerve to tell papa about her fate, it seems to me so piteous.  However, she had a happy life with a kind mistress, whatever her death has been.  Little hapless plague!  She had more goodness and patience shown her than she deserved, I fear.

‘C. Brontë.’

 
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘Haworth,
July
26
th
, 1852.

‘Dear Ellen, — I should not have written to you to-day by choice.  Lately I have again been harassed with headache — the heavy electric atmosphere oppresses me much, yet I am less miserable just now than I was a little while ago.  A severe shock came upon me about papa.  He was suddenly attacked with acute inflammation of the eye.  Mr. Ruddock was sent for; and after he had examined him, he called me into another room, and said papa’s pulse was bounding at 150 per minute, that there was a strong pressure of blood upon the brain, that, in short, the symptoms were decidedly apoplectic.

‘Active measures were immediately taken.  By the next day the pulse was reduced to ninety.  Thank God he is now better, though not well.  The eye is a good deal inflamed.  He does not know his state.  To tell him he had been in danger of apoplexy would almost be to kill him at once — it would increase the rush to the brain and perhaps bring about rupture.  He is kept very quiet.

‘Dear Nell, you will excuse a short note.  Write again soon.  Tell me all concerning yourself that can relieve you. — Yours faithfully,

‘C. B.’

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘
August
3
rd
, 1852.

‘Dear Ellen, — I write a line to say that papa is now considered out of danger.  His progress to health is not without relapse, but I think he gains ground, if slowly, surely.  Mr. Ruddock says the seizure was quite of an apoplectic character; there was a partial paralysis for two days, but the mind remained clear, in spite of a high degree of nervous irritation.  One eye still remains inflamed, and papa is weak, but all muscular affection is gone, and the pulse is accurate.  One cannot be too thankful that papa’s sight is yet spared — it was the fear of losing that which chiefly distressed him.

 
‘With best wishes for yourself, dear Ellen, — I am, yours faithfully,

‘C. Brontë.

‘My headaches are better.  I have needed no help, but I thank you sincerely for your kind offers.’

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘Haworth,
August
12
th
, 1852.

‘Dear Ellen, — Papa has varied occasionally since I wrote to you last.  Monday was a very bad day, his spirits sunk painfully.  Tuesday and yesterday, however, were much better, and to-day he seems wonderfully well.  The prostration of spirits which accompanies anything like a relapse is almost the most difficult point to manage.  Dear Nell, you are tenderly kind in offering your society; but rest very tranquil where you are; be fully assured that it is not now, nor under present circumstances, that I feel the lack either of society or occupation; my time is pretty well filled up, and my thoughts appropriated.

‘Mr. Ruddock now seems quite satisfied there is no present danger whatever; he says papa has an excellent constitution and may live many years yet.  The true balance is not yet restored to the circulation, but I believe that impetuous and dangerous termination to the head is quite obviated.  I cannot permit myself to comment much on the chief contents of your last; advice is not necessary.  As far as I can judge, you seem hitherto enabled to take these trials in a good and wise spirit.  I can only pray that such combined strength and resignation may be continued to you.  Submission, courage, exertion, when practicable — these seem to be the weapons with which we must fight life’s long battle. — Yours faithfully,

‘C. Brontë.’

To Miss Nussey we owe many other letters than those here printed — indeed, they must needs play an important part in Charlotte Brontë’s biography.  They do not deal with the intellectual interests which are so marked in the letters to W. S. Williams, and which, doubtless, characterised the letters to Miss Mary Taylor.  ‘I ought to have written this letter to Mary,’ Charlotte says, when on one occasion
 
she dropped into literature to her friend; but the friendship was as precious as most intellectual friendships, because it was based upon a common esteem and an unselfish devotion.  Ellen Nussey, as we have seen, accompanied Anne Brontë to Scarborough, and was at her death-bed.  She attended Charlotte’s wedding, and lived to mourn over her tomb.  For forty years she has been the untiring advocate and staunch champion, hating to hear a word in her great friend’s dispraise, loving to note the glorious recognition, of which there has been so rich and so full a harvest.  That she still lives to receive our reverent gratitude for preserving so many interesting traits of the Brontës, is matter for full and cordial congratulation, wherever the names of the authors of
Jane Eyre
and
Wuthering Heights
are held in just and wise esteem.

CHAPTER IX: MARY TAYLOR

Mary Taylor, the ‘M — -’ of Mrs. Gaskell’s biography, and the ‘Rose Yorke’ of
Shirley
, will always have a peculiar interest to those who care for the Brontës.  She shrank from publicity, and her name has been less mentioned than that of any other member of the circle.  And yet hers was a personality singularly strenuous and strong.  She wrote two books ‘with a purpose,’ and, as we shall see, vigorously embodied her teaching in her life.  It will be remembered that Charlotte Brontë, Ellen Nussey, and Mary Taylor first met at Roe Head School, when Charlotte and Mary were fifteen and her friend about fourteen years of age.  Here are Miss Nussey’s impressions —

‘She was pretty, and very childish-looking, dressed in a red-coloured frock with short sleeves and low neck, as then worn by young girls.  Miss Wooler in later years used to say that when Mary went to her as a pupil she thought her too pretty to live.  She was not talkative at school, but industrious, and always ready with lessons.  She was always at the top in class lessons, with Charlotte Brontë and the writer; seldom a change was made, and then only with the three — one move.  Charlotte and she were great friends for a time, but there was no withdrawing from me on either side, and Charlotte never quite knew how an estrangement arose with Mary, but it lasted a long time.  Then a time came that both Charlotte and Mary were so proficient in schoolroom attainments there was no more for them to learn, and Miss Wooler set them Blair’s
 
Belles Lettres
to commit to memory.  We all laughed at their studies.  Charlotte persevered, but Mary took her own line, flatly refused, and accepted the penalty of disobedience, going supper-less to bed for about a month before she left school.  When it was moonlight, we always found her engaged in drawing on the chest of drawers, which stood in the bay window, quite happy and cheerful.  Her rebellion was never outspoken.  She was always quiet in demeanour.  Her sister Martha, on the contrary, spoke out vigorously, daring Miss Wooler so much, face to face, that she sometimes received a box on the ear, which hardly any saint could have withheld.  Then Martha would expatiate on the danger of boxing ears, quoting a reverend brother of Miss Wooler’s.  Among her school companions, Martha was called “Miss Boisterous,” but was always a favourite, so piquant and fascinating were her ways.  She was not in the least pretty, but something much better, full of change and variety, rudely outspoken, lively, and original, producing laughter with her own good-humour and affection.  She was her father’s pet child.  He delighted in hearing her sing, telling her to go to the piano, with his affectionate “Patty lass.”

‘Mary never had the impromptu vivacity of her sister, but was lively in games that engaged her mind.  Her music was very correct, but entirely cultivated by practice and perseverance.  Anything underhand was detestable to both Mary and Martha; they had no mean pride towards others, but accepted the incidents of life with imperturbable good-sense and insight.  They were not dressed as well as other pupils, for economy at that time was the rule of their household.  The girls had to stitch all over their new gloves before wearing them, by order of their mother, to make them wear longer.  Their dark blue cloth coats were worn when
too short
, and black beaver bonnets quite plainly trimmed, with the ease and contentment of a fashionable costume.  Mr. Taylor was a banker as well as a monopolist of army cloth manufacture in the district.  He lost money, and gave up banking.  He set his mind on paying all creditors, and effected this during his lifetime as far as
 
possible, willing that his sons were to do the remainder, which two of his sons carried out, as was understood, during their lifetime — Mark and Martin of
Shirley
.’

Let us now read Charlotte’s description in
Shirley
, and I think we have a tolerably fair estimate of the sisters.

‘The two next are girls, Rose and Jessie; they are both now at their father’s knee; they seldom go near their mother, except when obliged to do so.  Rose, the elder, is twelve years old; she is like her father — the most like him of the whole group — but it is a granite head copied in ivory; all is softened in colour and line.  Yorke himself has a harsh face; his daughter’s is not harsh, neither is it quite pretty; it is simple — childlike in feature; the round cheeks bloom; as to the grey eyes, they are otherwise than childlike — a serious soul lights them — a young soul yet, but it will mature, if the body lives; and neither father nor mother has a spirit to compare with it.  Partaking of the essence of each, it will one day be better than either — stronger, much purer, more aspiring.  Rose is a still, and sometimes a stubborn girl now; her mother wants to make of her such a woman as she is herself — a woman of dark and dreary duties; and Rose has a mind full-set, thick-sown with the germs of ideas her mother never knew.  It is agony to her often to have these ideas trampled on and repressed.  She has never rebelled yet; but if hard driven, she will rebel one day, and then it will be once for all.  Rose loves her father; her father does not rule her with a rod of iron; he is good to her.  He sometimes fears she will not live, so bright are the sparks of intelligence which, at moments, flash from her glance and gleam in her language.  This idea makes him often sadly tender to her.

‘He has no idea that little Jessie will die young, she is so gay and chattering, arch — original even now; passionate when provoked, but most affectionate if caressed; by turns gentle and rattling; exacting yet generous; fearless — of her mother, for instance, whose irrationally hard and strict rule she has often defied — yet reliant on any who will help her.  Jessie, with her
 
little piquant face, engaging prattle, and winning ways, is made to be a pet; and her father’s pet she accordingly is.’

Mary Taylor was called ‘Pag’ by her friends, and the first important reference to her that I find is contained in a letter written by Charlotte to Ellen Nussey, when she was seventeen years of age.

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘Haworth,
June
20
th
, 1833.

‘Dear Ellen, — I know you will be very angry because I have not written sooner; my reason, or rather my motive for this apparent neglect was, that I had determined not to write until I could ask you to pay us your long-promised visit.  Aunt thought it would be better to defer it until about the middle of summer, as the winter and even the spring seasons are remarkably cold and bleak among our mountains.  Papa now desires me to present his respects to your mother, and say that he should feel greatly obliged if she would allow us the pleasure of your company for a few weeks at Haworth.  I will leave it to you to fix whatever day may be most convenient, but let it be an early one.  I received a letter from Pag Taylor yesterday; she was in high dudgeon at my inattention in not promptly answering her last epistle.  I however sat down immediately and wrote a very humble reply, candidly confessing my faults and soliciting forgiveness; I hope it has proved successful.  Have you suffered much from that troublesome though not (I am happy to hear) generally fatal disease, the influenza?  We have so far steered clear of it, but I know not how long we may continue to escape.  Your last letter revealed a state of mind which seemed to promise much.  As I read it I could not help wishing that my own feelings more resembled yours; but unhappily all the good thoughts that enter
my mind
evaporate almost before I have had time to ascertain their existence; every right resolution which I form is so transient, so fragile, and so easily broken, that I sometimes fear I shall never be what I ought.  Earnestly hoping that this may not be your case,
 
that you may continue steadfast till the end, — I remain, dearest Ellen, your ever faithful friend,

‘Charlotte Brontë.’

The next letter refers to Mr. Taylor’s death.  Mr. Taylor, it is scarcely necessary to add, is the Mr. Yorke of Briarmains, who figures so largely in
Shirley
.  I have visited the substantial red-brick house near the high-road at Gomersall, but descriptions of the Brontë country do not come within the scope of this volume.

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘
January
3
rd
, 1841.

‘My dear Ellen, — I received the news in your last with no surprise, and with the feeling that this removal must be a relief to Mr. Taylor himself and even to his family.  The bitterness of death was past a year ago, when it was first discovered that his illness must terminate fatally; all between has been lingering suspense.  This is at an end now, and the present certainty, however sad, is better than the former doubt.  What will be the consequence of his death is another question; for my own part, I look forward to a dissolution and dispersion of the family, perhaps not immediately, but in the course of a year or two.  It is true, causes may arise to keep them together awhile longer, but they are restless, active spirits, and will not be restrained always.  Mary alone has more energy and power in her nature than any ten men you can pick out in the united parishes of Birstall and Haworth.  It is vain to limit a character like hers within ordinary boundaries — she will overstep them.  I am morally certain Mary will establish her own landmarks, so will the rest of them.

‘C. Brontë.’

Soon after her father’s death Mary Taylor turned her eyes towards New Zealand, where she had friends, but two years were to go by before anything came of the idea.

TO MISS EMILY J. BRONTË

‘Upperwood House,
April
2
nd
, 1841.

‘Dear E. J., — I received your last letter with delight as
 
usual.  I must write a line to thank you for it and the inclosure, which however is too bad — you ought not to have sent me those packets.  I had a letter from Anne yesterday; she says she is well.  I hope she speaks absolute truth.  I had written to her and Branwell a few days before.  I have not heard from Branwell yet.  It is to be hoped that his removal to another station will turn out for the best.  As you say, it
looks
like getting on at any rate.

‘I have got up my courage so far as to ask Mrs. White to grant me a day’s holiday to go to Birstall to see Ellen Nussey, who has offered to send a gig for me.  My request was granted, but so coldly and slowly.  However, I stuck to my point in a very exemplary and remarkable manner.  I hope to go next Saturday.  Matters are progressing very strangely at Gomersall.  Mary Taylor and Waring have come to a singular determination, but I almost think under the peculiar circumstances a defensible one, though it sounds outrageously odd at first.  They are going to emigrate — to quit the country altogether.  Their destination unless they change is Port Nicholson, in the northern island of New Zealand!!!  Mary has made up her mind she can not and will not be a governess, a teacher, a milliner, a bonnet-maker nor housemaid.  She sees no means of obtaining employment she would like in England, so she is leaving it.  I counselled her to go to France likewise and stay there a year before she decided on this strange unlikely-sounding plan of going to New Zealand, but she is quite resolved.  I cannot sufficiently comprehend what her views and those of her brothers may be on the subject, or what is the extent of their information regarding Port Nicholson, to say whether this is rational enterprise or absolute madness.  With love to papa, aunt, Tabby, etc. — Good-bye.

‘C. B.

‘
P.S.
— I am very well; I hope you are.  Write again soon.’

Soon after this Mary went on a long visit to Brussels, which, as we have seen, was the direct cause of Charlotte and Emily establishing themselves at the Pensionnat Héger. 
 
In Brussels Martha Taylor found a grave.  Here is one of her letters.

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY.

‘Brussels,
Sept
. 9
th
, 1841.

‘My dear Ellen, — I received your letter from Mary, and you say I am to write though I have nothing to say.  My sister will tell you all about me, for she has more time to write than I have.

‘Whilst Mary and John have been with me, we have been to Liege and Spa, where we stayed eight days.  I found my little knowledge of French very useful in our travels.  I am going to begin working again very hard, now that John and Mary are going away.  I intend beginning German directly.  I would write some more but this pen of Mary’s won’t write; you must scold her for it, and tell her to write you a long account of my proceedings.  You must write to me sometimes.  George Dixon is coming here the last week in September, and you must send a letter for me to Mary to be forwarded by him.  Good-bye.  May you be happy.

‘Martha Taylor.’

It was while Charlotte was making her second stay in Brussels that she heard of Mary’s determination to go with her brother Waring to New Zealand, with a view to earning her own living in any reasonable manner that might offer.