Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated) (621 page)

‘I have been staying a short time with Miss Martineau.  As you may imagine, the visit proved one of no common interest.  She is certainly a woman of wonderful endowments, both intellectual and physical, and though I share few of her opinions, and regard her as fallible on certain points of judgment, I must still accord her my sincerest esteem.  The manner in which
 
she combines the highest mental culture with the nicest discharge of feminine duties filled me with admiration, while her affectionate kindness earned my gratitude.

‘Your description of the magician Paxton’s crystal palace is quite graphic.  Whether I shall see it or not I don’t know.  London will be so dreadfully crowded and busy this season, I feel a dread of going there.

‘Compelled to break off, I have only time to offer my kindest remembrances to your whole circle, and my love to yourself. — Yours ever,

‘C. Brontë.’

TO REV. P. BRONTË

‘112 Gloucester Terrace, Hyde Park,
‘London,
June
17
th
, 1851.

‘Dear Papa, — I write a line in haste to tell you that I find they will not let me leave London till next Tuesday; and as I have promised to spend a day or two with Mrs. Gaskell on my way home, it will probably be Friday or Saturday in next week before I return to Haworth.  Martha will thus have a few days more time, and must not hurry or overwork herself.  Yesterday I saw Cardinal Wiseman and heard him speak.  It was at a meeting for the Roman Catholic Society of St. Vincent de Paul; the Cardinal presided.  He is a big portly man something of the shape of Mr. Morgan; he has not merely a double but a treble and quadruple chin; he has a very large mouth with oily lips, and looks as if he would relish a good dinner with a bottle of wine after it.  He came swimming into the room smiling, simpering, and bowing like a fat old lady, and sat down very demure in his chair and looked the picture of a sleek hypocrite.  He was dressed in black like a bishop or dean in plain clothes, but wore scarlet gloves and a brilliant scarlet waistcoat.  A bevy of inferior priests surrounded him, many of them very dark-looking and sinister men.  The Cardinal spoke in a smooth whining manner, just like a canting Methodist preacher.  The audience seemed to look up to him as to a god.  A spirit of the hottest zeal pervaded the whole meeting.  I was told afterwards that except myself and the person who accompanied me there
 
was not a single Protestant present.  All the speeches turned on the necessity of straining every nerve to make converts to popery.  It is in such a scene that one feels what the Catholics are doing.  Most persevering and enthusiastic are they in their work!  Let Protestants look to it.  It cheered me much to hear that you continue pretty well.  Take every care of yourself.  Remember me kindly to Tabby and Martha, also to Mr. Nicholls, and — Believe me, dear papa, your affectionate daughter,

‘C. Brontë.’

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘
June
19
th
, 1851.

‘Dear Ellen, — I shall have to stay in London a few days longer than I intended.  Sir J. K. Shuttleworth has found out that I am here.  I have some trouble in warding off his wish that I should go directly to his house and take up my quarters there, but Mrs. Smith helped me, and I got off with promising to spend a day.  I am engaged to spend a day or two with Mrs. Gaskell on my way home, and could not put her off, as she is going away for a portion of the summer.  Lady Shuttleworth looks very delicate.  Papa is now very desirous I should come home; and when I have as quickly as possible paid my debts of engagements, home I must go.  Next Tuesday I go to Manchester for two days.

‘C. Brontë.’

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘112 Gloucester Terrace,
‘Hyde Park,
June
24
th
, 1851.

‘Dear Ellen, — I cannot now leave London till Friday.  To-morrow is Mr. Smith’s only holiday.  Mr. Taylor’s departure leaves him loaded with work.  More than once since I came he has been kept in the city till three in the morning.  He wants to take us all to Richmond, and I promised last week I would stay and go with him, his mother, and sisters.  I go to Mrs. Gaskell’s on Friday. — Believe me, yours faithfully,

‘C. Brontë.’

 
TO REV. P. BRONTË, Haworth, Yorks

‘112 Gloucester Terrace,
‘
June
26
th
, 1851.

‘Dear Papa, — I have not yet been able to get away from London, but if all be well I shall go to-morrow, stay two days with Mrs. Gaskell at Manchester, and return home on Monday 30th
without fail
.  During this last week or ten days I have seen many things, some of them very interesting, and have also been in much better health than I was during the first fortnight of my stay in London.  Sir James and Lady Shuttleworth have really been very kind, and most scrupulously attentive.  They desire their regards to you, and send all manner of civil messages.  The Marquis of Westminster and the Earl of Ellesmere each sent me an order to see their private collection of pictures, which I enjoyed very much.  Mr. Rogers, the patriarch-poet, now eighty-seven years old, invited me to breakfast with him.  His breakfasts, you must understand, are celebrated throughout Europe for their peculiar refinement and taste.  He never admits at that meal more than four persons to his table: himself and three guests.  The morning I was there I met Lord Glenelg and Mrs. Davenport, a relation of Lady Shuttleworth’s, and a very beautiful and fashionable woman.  The visit was very interesting; I was glad that I had paid it after it was over.  An attention that pleased and surprised me more I think than any other was the circumstance of Sir David Brewster, who is one of the first scientific men of his day, coming to take me over the Crystal Palace and pointing out and explaining the most remarkable curiosities.  You will know, dear papa, that I do not mention those things to boast of them, but merely because I think they will give you pleasure.  Nobody, I find, thinks the worse of me for avoiding publicity and declining to go to large parties, and everybody seems truly courteous and respectful, a mode of behaviour which makes me grateful, as it ought to do.  Good-bye till Monday.  Give my best regards to Mr. Nicholls, Tabby, and Martha, and — Believe me your affectionate daughter,

‘C. Brontë.’

CHAPTER XVII: THE REV. ARTHUR BELL NICHOLLS

Without the kindly assistance of Mr. Arthur Bell Nicholls, this book could not have been written, and I might therefore be supposed to guide my pen with appalling discretion in treating of the married life of Charlotte Brontë.  There are, however, no painful secrets to reveal, no skeletons to lay bare.  Mr. Nicholls’s story is a very simple one; and that it is entirely creditable to him, there is abundant evidence.  Amid the full discussion to which the lives of the Brontës have necessarily been subjected through their ever-continuous fame, it was perhaps inevitable that a contrary opinion should gain ground.  Many of Mr. Nicholls’s relatives in his own country have frequently sighed over the perverted statements which have obtained currency.  ‘It is cruel that your uncle Arthur, the best of men, as we know, should be thus treated,’ was the comment of Mr. Nicholls’s brother to his daughter after reading an unfriendly article concerning Charlotte’s husband.  Yet it was not unnatural that such an estimate should get abroad; and I may frankly admit that until I met Mr. Nicholls I believed that Charlotte Brontë’s marriage had been an unhappy one — an opinion gathered partly from Mrs. Gaskell, partly from current tradition in Yorkshire.  Mrs. Gaskell, in fact, did not like Mr. Nicholls, and there were those with whom she came in contact while writing Miss Brontë’s Life who were eager to fan that feeling in the usually kindly biographer.  Mr.
 
Nicholls himself did not work in the direction of conciliation.  He was, as we shall see, a Scotchman, and Scottish taciturnity brought to bear upon the genial and jovial Yorkshire folk did not make for friendliness.  Further, he would not let Mrs. Gaskell ‘edit’ and change
The Professor
, and here also he did wisely and well.  He hated publicity, and above all things viewed the attempt to pierce the veil of his married life with almost morbid detestation.  Who shall say that he was not right, and that his retirement for more than forty years from the whole region of controversy has not abundantly justified itself?  One at least of Miss Brontë’s friends has been known in our day to complain bitterly of all the trouble to which she has been subjected by the ill-considered zeal of Brontë enthusiasts.  Mr. Nicholls has escaped all this by a judicious silence.  Now that forty years and more have passed since his wife’s death, it cannot be inopportune to tell the public all that they can fairly ask to know.

Mr. Nicholls was born in Co. Antrim in 1817, but of Scottish parents on both sides.  He was left at the age of seven to the charge of an uncle — the Rev. Alan Bell — who was headmaster of the Royal School at Banagher, in King’s Co.  Mr. Nicholls afterwards entered Trinity College, Dublin, and it was thence that he went to Haworth, his first curacy.  He succeeded a fellow countryman, Mr. Peter Augustus Smith, in 1844.  The first impression we have of the new curate in Charlotte’s letters is scarcely more favourable than that of his predecessors.

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘
October
9
th
, 1844.

‘Dear Ellen, — We are getting on here the same as usual, only that Branwell has been more than ordinarily troublesome and annoying of late; he leads papa a wretched life.  Mr. Nicholls is returned just the same.  I cannot for my life see
 
those interesting germs of goodness in him you discovered; his narrowness of mind always strikes me chiefly.  I fear he is indebted to your imagination for his hidden treasure. — Yours,

‘C. B.’

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘
July
10
th
, 1846.

‘Dear Ellen, — Who gravely asked you whether Miss Brontë was not going to be married to her papa’s curate?  I scarcely need say that never was rumour more unfounded.  A cold faraway sort of civility are the only terms on which I have ever been with Mr. Nicholls.  I could by no means think of mentioning such a rumour to him even as a joke.  It would make me the laughing-stock of himself and his fellow curates for half a year to come.  They regard me as an old maid, and I regard them, one and all, as highly uninteresting, narrow, and unattractive specimens of the coarser sex.

‘Write to me again soon, whether you have anything particular to say or not.  Give my sincere love to your mother and sisters.

‘C. Brontë.’

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘
November
17
th
, 1846.

‘Dear Ellen, — I will just write a brief despatch to say that I received yours and that I was very glad to get it.  I do not know when you have been so long without writing to me before.  I had begun to imagine you were gone to your brother Joshua’s.

‘Papa continues to do very well.  He read prayers twice in the church last Sunday.  Next Sunday he will have to take the whole duty of the three services himself, as Mr. Nicholls is in Ireland.  Remember me to your mother and sisters.  Write as soon as you possibly can after you get to Oundle.  Good luck go with you.

‘C. Brontë.’

That Scotch reticence held sway, and told against Mr. Nicholls for many a day to come.

 
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘
October
7
th
, 1847.

‘Dear Ellen, — I have been expecting you to write to me; but as you don’t do it, and as, moreover, you may possibly think it is my turn, and not yours, though on that point I am far from clear, I shall just send you one of my scrubby notes for the express purpose of eliciting a reply.  Anne was very much pleased with your letter; I presume she has answered it before now.  I would fain hope that her health is a little stronger than it was, and her spirits a little better, but she leads much too sedentary a life, and is continually sitting stooping either over a book or over her desk.  It is with difficulty we can prevail upon her to take a walk or induce her to converse.  I look forward to next summer with the confident intention that she shall, if possible, make at least a brief sojourn at the sea-side.

‘I am sorry I inoculated you with fears about the east wind; I did not feel the last blast so severely as I have often done.  My sympathies were much awakened by the touching anecdote.  Did you salute your boy-messenger with a box on the ear the next time he came across you?  I think I should have been strongly tempted to have done as much.  Mr. Nicholls is not yet returned.  I am sorry to say that many of the parishioners express a desire that he should not trouble himself to recross the Channel.  This is not the feeling that ought to exist between shepherd and flock.  It is not such as is prevalent at Birstall.  It is not such as poor Mr. Weightman excited.

‘Give my best love to all of them, and — Believe me, yours faithfully,

‘C. Brontë.’

The next glimpse is more kindly.

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘
January
28
th
, 1850.

‘Dear Ellen, — I cannot but be concerned to hear of your mother’s illness; write again soon, if it be but a line, to tell me how she gets on.  This shadow will, I trust and believe, be but a passing one, but it is a foretaste and warning of what
must come
one day.  Let it prepare your mind, dear Ellen, for that great
 
trial which, if you live, it
must
in the course of a few years be your lot to undergo.  That cutting asunder of the ties of nature is the pain we most dread and which we are most certain to experience.  Lewes’s letter made me laugh; I cannot respect him more for it.  Sir J. K. Shuttleworth’s letter did not make me laugh; he has written again since.  I have received to-day a note from Miss Alexander, daughter, she says, of Dr. Alexander.  Do you know anything of her?  Mary Taylor seems in good health and spirits, and in the way of doing well.  I shall feel anxious to hear again soon.

‘C. B.

‘
P.S.
— Mr. Nicholls has finished reading
Shirley
; he is delighted with it.  John Brown’s wife seriously thought he had gone wrong in the head as she heard him giving vent to roars of laughter as he sat alone, clapping his hands and stamping on the floor.  He would read all the scenes about the curates aloud to Papa.  He triumphed in his own character.
 
  What Mr. Grant will say is another thing.  No matter.’

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘Haworth,
July
27
th
, 1851.

‘Dear Nell, — I hope you have taken no cold from your wretched journey home; you see you should have taken my advice and stayed till Saturday.  Didn’t I tell you I had a “presentiment” it would be better for you to do so?

 
‘I am glad you found your mother pretty well.  Is she disposed to excuse the wretched petrified condition of the bilberry preserve, in consideration of the intent of the donor?  It seems they had high company while you were away.  You see what you lose by coming to Haworth.  No events here since your departure except a long letter from Miss Martineau.  (She did not write the article on “Woman” in the
Westminster
; by the way, it is the production of a man, and one of the first philosophers and political economists and metaphysicians of the day.)
 
  Item, the departure of Mr. Nicholls for Ireland, and his inviting himself on the eve thereof to come and take a farewell tea; good, mild, uncontentious.  Item, a note from the stiff-like chap who called about the epitaph for his cousin.  I inclose this — a finer gem in its way it would be difficult to conceive.  You need not, however, be at the trouble of returning it.  How are they at Hunsworth yet?  It is no use saying whether I am solitary or not; I drive on very well, and papa continues pretty well. — Yours faithfully,

‘C. Brontë.’

I print the next letter here because, although it contains no reference to Mr. Nicholls, it has a bearing upon the letter following it.  Dr. Wheelwright shared Mr. Brontë’s infirmity of defective eyesight.

TO MISS LÆTITIA WHEELWRIGHT

‘Haworth,
April
12
th
, 1852.

‘Dear Lætitia, — Your last letter gave me much concern.  I had hoped you were long ere this restored to your usual health, and it both pained and surprised me to hear that you still suffer so much from debility.  I cannot help thinking your constitution is naturally sound and healthy.  Can it be the air of London which disagrees with you?  For myself, I struggled through the winter and the early part of spring often with great difficulty.  My friend stayed with me a few days in the early part of January — she could not be spared longer.  I was
 
better during her visit, but had a relapse soon after she left me, which reduced my strength very much.  It cannot be denied that the solitude of my position fearfully aggravated its other evils.  Some long, stormy days and nights there were when I felt such a craving for support and companionship as I cannot express.  Sleepless, I lay awake night after night; weak and unable to occupy myself, I sat in my chair day after day, the saddest memories my only company.  It was a time I shall never forget, but God sent it and it must have been for the best.

‘I am better now, and very grateful do I feel for the restoration of tolerable health; but, as if there was always to be some affliction, papa, who enjoyed wonderful health during the whole winter, is ailing with his spring attack of bronchitis.  I earnestly trust it may pass over in the comparatively ameliorated form in which it has hitherto shown itself.

‘Let me not forget to answer your question about the cataract.  Tell your papa my father was seventy at the time he underwent an operation; he was most reluctant to try the experiment — could not believe that at his age and with his want of robust strength it would succeed.  I was obliged to be very decided in the matter and to act entirely on my own responsibility.  Nearly six years have now elapsed since the cataract was extracted (it was not merely depressed).  He has never once, during that time, regretted the step, and a day seldom passes that he does not express gratitude and pleasure at the restoration of that inestimable privilege of vision whose loss he once knew.