Charlotte Bronte and Her Circle Part 3

'_C. Bronte's book_. _This book was given to me in July 1826_. _It is not certainly known who is the author_, _but it is generally supposed that Thomas a Kempis is_. _I saw a reward of_ 10,000 pounds _offered in the Leeds Mercury to any one who could find out for a certainty who is the author_.'

The conjunction of the names of John Wesley, Maria Branwell, and Charlotte Bronte surely gives this little volume, 'price bound 1s.,' a singular interest!

But here I must refer to the letters which Maria Branwell wrote to her lover during the brief courtship. Mrs. Gaskell, it will be remembered, makes but one extract from this correspondence, which was handed to her by Mr. Bronte as part of the material for her memoir. Long years before, the little packet had been taken from Mr. Bronte's desk, for we find Charlotte writing to a friend on February 16th, 1850:--

'A few days since, a little incident happened which curiously touched me. Papa put into my hands a little packet of letters and papers, telling me that they were mamma's, and that I might read them. I did read them, in a frame of mind I cannot describe. The papers were yellow with time, all having been written before I was born. It was strange now to peruse, for the first time, the records of a mind whence my own sprang; and most strange, and at once sad and sweet, to find that mind of a truly fine, pure, and elevated order. They were written to papa before they were married. There is a rect.i.tude, a refinement, a constancy, a modesty, a sense, a gentleness about them indescribable. I wish she had lived, and that I had known her.'

Yet another forty years or so and the little packet is in my possession.

Handling, with a full sense of their sacredness, these letters, written more than eighty years ago by a good woman to her lover, one is tempted to hope that there is no breach of the privacy which should, even in our day, guide certain sides of life, in publishing the correspondence in its completeness. With the letters I find a little MS., which is also of pathetic interest. It is ent.i.tled 'The Advantages of Poverty in Religious Concerns,' and it is endorsed in the handwriting of Mr. Bronte, written, doubtless, many years afterwards:--

'_The above was written by my dear wife_, _and is for insertion in one of the periodical publications_. _Keep it as a memorial of her_.'

There is no reason to suppose that the MS. was ever published; there is no reason why any editor should have wished to publish it. It abounds in the obvious. At the same time, one notes that from both father and mother alike Charlotte Bronte and her sisters inherited some measure of the literary faculty. It is nothing to say that not one line of the father's or mother's would have been preserved had it not been for their gifted children. It is sufficient that the zest for writing was there, and that the intense pa.s.sion for handling a pen, which seems to have been singularly strong in Charlotte Bronte, must have come to a great extent from a similar pa.s.sion alike in father and mother. Mr. Bronte, indeed, may be counted a prolific author. He published, in all, four books, three pamphlets, and two sermons. Of his books, two were in verse and two in prose. _Cottage Poems_ was published in 1811; _The Rural Minstrel_ in 1812, the year of his marriage; _The Cottage in the Wood_ in 1815; and _The Maid of Killarney_ in 1818. After his wife's death he published no more books. Reading over these old-fashioned volumes now, one admits that they possess but little distinction. It has been pointed out, indeed, that one of the strongest lines in _Jane Eyre_--'To the finest fibre of my nature, sir.'--is culled from Mr. Bronte's verse. It is the one line of his that will live. Like his daughter Charlotte, Mr.

Bronte is more interesting in his prose than in his poetry. _The Cottage in the Wood_; _or_, _the Art of Becoming Rich and Happy_, is a kind of religious novel--a spiritual _Pamela_, in which the reprobate pursuer of an innocent girl ultimately becomes converted and marries her. _The Maid of Killarney_; _or_, _Albion and Flora_ is more interesting. Under the guise of a story it has something to say on many questions of importance.

We know now why Charlotte never learnt to dance until she went to Brussels, and why children's games were unknown to her, for here are many mild diatribes against dancing and card-playing. The British Const.i.tution and the British and Foreign Bible Society receive a considerable amount of criticism. But in spite of this didactic weakness there are one or two pieces of really picturesque writing, notably a description of an Irish wake, and a forcible account of the defence of a house against some Whiteboys. It is true enough that the books are merely of interest to collectors and that they live only by virtue of Patrick Bronte's remarkable children. But many a prolific writer of the day pa.s.ses muster as a genius among his contemporaries upon as small a talent; and Mr. Bronte does not seem to have given himself any airs as an author. Thirty years were to elapse before there were to be any more books from this family of writers; but _Jane Eyre_ owes something, we may be sure, to _The Maid of Killarney_.

Mr. Bronte, as I have said, married Maria Branwell in 1812. She was in her twenty-ninth year, and was one of five children--one son and four daughters--the father of whom, Mr. Thomas Branwell, had died in 1809. By a curious coincidence, another sister, Charlotte, was married in Penzance on the same day--the 18th of December 1812. {33} Before me are a bundle of samplers, worked by three of these Branwell sisters. Maria Branwell 'ended her sampler' April the 15th, 1791, and it is inscribed with the text, _Flee from sin as from a serpent_, _for if thou comest too near to it_, _it will bite thee_. _The teeth thereof are as the teeth of a lion to slay the souls of men_. Another sampler is by Elizabeth Branwell; another by Margaret, and another by Anne. These, some miniatures, and the book and papers to which I have referred, are all that remain to us as a memento of Mrs. Bronte, apart from the children that she bore to her husband. The miniatures, which are in the possession of Miss Branwell, of Penzance, are of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Branwell--Charlotte Bronte's maternal grandfather and grandmother--and of Mrs. Bronte and her sister Elizabeth Branwell as children.

To return, however, to our bundle of love-letters. Comment is needless, if indeed comment or elucidation were possible at this distance of time.

TO REV. PATRICK BRONTE, A.B., HARTSHEAD

'WOOD HOUSE GROVE, _August_ 26_th_, 1812.

'MY DEAR FRIEND,--This address is sufficient to convince you that I not only permit, but approve of yours to me--I do indeed consider you as my _friend_; yet, when I consider how short a time I have had the pleasure of knowing you, I start at my own rashness, my heart fails, and did I not think that you would be disappointed and grieved at it, I believe I should be ready to spare myself the task of writing. Do not think that I am so wavering as to repent of what I have already said. No, believe me, this will never be the case, unless you give me cause for it. You need not fear that you have been mistaken in my character. If I know anything of myself, I am incapable of making an ungenerous return to the smallest degree of kindness, much less to you whose attentions and conduct have been so particularly obliging.

I will frankly confess that your behaviour and what I have seen and heard of your character has excited my warmest esteem and regard, and be a.s.sured you shall never have cause to repent of any confidence you may think proper to place in me, and that it will always be my endeavour to deserve the good opinion which you have formed, although human weakness may in some instances cause me to fall short. In giving you these a.s.surances I do not depend upon my own strength, but I look to Him who has been my unerring guide through life, and in whose continued protection and a.s.sistance I confidently trust.

'I thought on you much on Sunday, and feared you would not escape the rain. I hope you do not feel any bad effects from it? My cousin wrote you on Monday and expects this afternoon to be favoured with an answer. Your letter has caused me some foolish embarra.s.sment, tho'

in pity to my feelings they have been very sparing of their raillery.

'I will now candidly answer your questions. The _politeness of others_ can never make me forget your kind attentions, neither can I _walk our accustomed rounds_ without thinking on you, and, why should I be ashamed to add, wishing for your presence. If you knew what were my feelings whilst writing this you would pity me. I wish to write the truth and give you satisfaction, yet fear to go too far, and exceed the bounds of propriety. But whatever I may say or write I will _never deceive_ you, or _exceed the truth_. If you think I have not placed the _utmost confidence_ in you, consider my situation, and ask yourself if I have not confided in you sufficiently, perhaps too much. I am very sorry that you will not have this till after to-morrow, but it was out of my power to write sooner. I rely on your goodness to pardon everything in this which may appear either too free or too stiff; and beg that you will consider me as a warm and faithful friend.

'My uncle, aunt, and cousin unite in kind regards.

'I must now conclude with again declaring myself to be yours sincerely,

'MARIA BRANWELL.'

TO REV. PATRICK BRONTE, A.B, HARTSHEAD

'WOOD HOUSE GROVE, _September_ 5_th_, 1812.

MY DEAREST FRIEND,--I have just received your affectionate and very welcome letter, and although I shall not be able to send this until Monday, yet I cannot deny myself the pleasure of writing a few lines this evening, no longer considering it a task, but a pleasure, next to that of reading yours. I had the pleasure of hearing from Mr.

Fennell, who was at Bradford on Thursday afternoon, that you had rested there all night. Had you proceeded, I am sure the walk would have been too much for you; such excessive fatigue, often repeated, must injure the strongest const.i.tution. I am rejoiced to find that our forebodings were without cause. I had yesterday a letter from a very dear friend of mine, and had the satisfaction to learn by it that all at home are well. I feel with you the unspeakable obligations I am under to a merciful Providence--my heart swells with grat.i.tude, and I feel an earnest desire that I may be enabled to make some suitable return to the Author of all my blessings. In general, I think I am enabled to cast my care upon Him, and then I experience a calm and peaceful serenity of mind which few things can destroy.

In all my addresses to the throne of grace I never ask a blessing for myself but I beg the same for you, and considering the important station which you are called to fill, my prayers are proportionately fervent that you may be favoured with all the gifts and graces requisite for such calling. O my dear friend, let us pray much that we may live lives holy and useful to each other and all around us!

'_Monday morn_.--My cousin and I were yesterday at Coverley church, where we heard Mr. Watman preach a very excellent sermon from "learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly of heart." He displayed the character of our Saviour in a most affecting and amiable light. I scarcely ever felt more charmed with his excellencies, more grateful for his condescension, or more abased at my own unworthiness; but I lament that my heart is so little retentive of those pleasing and profitable impressions.

'I pitied you in your solitude, and felt sorry that it was not in my power to enliven it. Have you not been too hasty in informing your friends of a certain event? Why did you not leave them to guess a little longer? I shrink from the idea of its being known to every body. I do, indeed, _sometimes_ think of you, but I will not say how often, lest I raise your vanity; and we sometimes talk of you and the doctor. But I believe I should seldom mention your name myself were it not now and then introduced by my cousin. I have never mentioned a word of what is past to any body. Had I thought this necessary I should have requested you to do it. But I think there is no need, as by some means or other they seem to have a pretty correct notion how matters stand betwixt us; and as their hints, etc., meet with no contradiction from me, my silence pa.s.ses for confirmation. Mr.

Fennell has not neglected to give me some serious and encouraging advice, and my aunt takes frequent opportunities of dropping little sentences which I may turn to some advantage. I have long had reason to know that the present state of things would give pleasure to all parties. Your ludicrous account of the scene at the Hermitage was highly diverting, we laughed heartily at it; but I fear it will not produce all that compa.s.sion in Miss Fennell's breast which you seem to wish. I will now tell you what I was thinking about and doing at the time you mention. I was then toiling up the hill with Jane and Mrs. Clapham to take our tea at Mr. Tatham's, thinking on the evening when I first took the same walk with you, and on the change which had taken place in my circ.u.mstances and views since then--not wholly without a wish that I had your arm to a.s.sist me, and your conversation to shorten the walk. Indeed, all our walks have now an insipidity in them which I never thought they would have possessed.

When I work, if I wish to get _forward_ I may be glad that you are at a distance. Jane begs me to a.s.sure you of her kind regards. Mr.

Morgan is expected to be here this evening. I must a.s.sume a bold and steady countenance to meet his attacks!

'I have now written a pretty long letter without reserve or caution, and if all the sentiments of my heart are not laid open to you, believe me it is not because I wish them to be concealed, for I hope there is nothing there that would give you pain or displeasure. My most sincere and earnest wishes are for your happiness and welfare, for this includes my own. Pray much for me that I may be made a blessing and not a hindrance to you. Let me not interrupt your studies nor intrude on that time which ought to be dedicated to better purposes. Forgive my freedom, my dearest friend, and rest a.s.sured that you are and ever will be dear to

MARIA BRANWELL.

'Write very soon.'

TO REV. PATRICK BRONTE, A.B., HARTSHEAD

'WOOD HOUSE GROVE, _September_ 11_th_, 1812.

'MY DEAREST FRIEND,--Having spent the day yesterday at Miry Shay, a place near Bradford, I had not got your letter till my return in the evening, and consequently have only a short time this morning to write if I send it by this post. You surely do not think you _trouble_ me by writing? No, I think I may venture to say if such were your opinion you would _trouble_ me no more. Be a.s.sured, your letters are and I hope always will be received with extreme pleasure and read with delight. May our Gracious Father mercifully grant the fulfilment of your prayers! Whilst we depend entirely on Him for happiness, and receive each other and all our blessings as from His hands, what can harm us or make us miserable? Nothing temporal or spiritual.

'Jane had a note from Mr. Morgan last evening, and she desires me to tell you that the Methodists' service in church hours is to commence next Sunday week. You may expect frowns and hard words from her when you make your appearance here again, for, if you recollect, she gave you a note to carry to the Doctor, and he has never received it.

What have you done with it? If you can give a good account of it you may come to see us as soon as you please and be sure of a hearty welcome from all parties. Next Wednesday we have some thoughts, if the weather be fine, of going to Kirkstall Abbey once more, and I suppose your presence will not make the walk less agreeable to any of us.

'The old man is come and waits for my letter. In expectation of seeing you on Monday or Tuesday next,--I remain, yours faithfully and affectionately,

'M. B.'

TO REV. PATRICK BRONTE, A.B., HARTSHEAD

'WOOD HOUSE GROVE, _September_ 18_th_, 1812.

'How readily do I comply with my dear Mr. B's request! You see, you have only to express your wishes and as far as my power extends I hesitate not to fulfil them. My heart tells me that it will always be my pride and pleasure to contribute to your happiness, nor do I fear that this will ever be inconsistent with my duty as a Christian.

My esteem for you and my confidence in you is so great, that I firmly believe you will never exact anything from me which I could not conscientiously perform. I shall in future look to you for a.s.sistance and instruction whenever I may need them, and hope you will never withhold from me any advice or caution you may see necessary.

['For some years I have been perfectly my own mistress, subject to no _control_ whatever--so far from it, that my sisters who are many years older than myself, and even my dear mother, used to consult me in every case of importance, and scarcely ever doubted the propriety of my opinions and actions. Perhaps you will be ready to accuse me of vanity in mentioning this, but you must consider that I do not _boast_ of it, I have many times felt it a disadvantage; and although, I thank G.o.d, it never led me into error, yet in circ.u.mstances of perplexity and doubt, I have deeply felt the want of a guide and instructor.] {39}

'At such times I have seen and felt the necessity of supernatural aid, and by fervent applications to a throne of grace I have experienced that my heavenly Father is able and willing to supply the place of every earthly friend. I shall now no longer feel this want, this sense of helpless weakness, for I believe a kind Providence has intended that I shall find in you every earthly friend united; nor do I fear to trust myself under your protection, or shrink from your control. It is pleasant to be subject to those we love, especially when they never exert their authority but for the good of the subject. How few would write in this way! But I do not fear that _you_ will make a bad use of it. You tell me to write my thoughts, and thus as they occur I freely let my pen run away with them.

'_Sat. morn_.--I do not know whether you dare show your face here again or not after the blunder you have committed. When we got to the house on Thursday evening, even before we were within the doors, we found that Mr. and Mrs. Bedford had been there, and that they had requested you to mention their intention of coming--a single hint of which you never gave! Poor I too came in for a share in the hard words which were bestowed upon you, for they all agreed that I was the cause of it. Mr. Fennell said you were certainly _mazed_, and talked of sending you to York, etc. And even I begin to think that _this_, together with the _note_, bears some marks of _insanity_!

However, I shall suspend my judgment until I hear what excuse you can make for yourself, I suppose you will be quite ready to make one of some kind or another.

'Yesterday I performed a difficult and yet a pleasing task in writing to my sisters. I thought I never should accomplish the end for which the letter was designed; but after a good deal of perambulation I gave them to understand the nature of my engagement with you, with the motives and inducements which led me to form such an engagement, and that in consequence of it I should not see them again so soon as I had intended. I concluded by expressing a hope that they would not be less pleased with the information than were my friends here. I think they will not suspect me to have made a wrong step, their partiality for me is so great. And their affection for me will lead them to rejoice in my welfare, even though it should diminish somewhat of their own. I shall think the time tedious till I hear from you, and must beg you will write as soon as possible. Pardon me, my dear friend, if I again caution you against giving way to a weakness of which I have heard you complain. When you find your heart oppressed and your thoughts too much engrossed by one subject, let prayer be your refuge--this you no doubt know by experience to be a sure remedy, and a relief from every care and error. Oh, that we had more of the spirit of prayer! I feel that I need it much.

'Breakfast-time is near, I must bid you farewell for the time, but rest a.s.sured you will always share in the prayers and heart of your own

MARIA.

'Mr. Fennell has crossed my letter to my sisters. With his usual goodness he has supplied my _deficiencies_, and spoken of me in terms of commendation of which I wish I were more worthy. Your character he has likewise displayed in the most favourable light; and I am sure they will not fail to love and esteem you though unknown.

'All here unite in kind regards. Adieu.'

TO REV. PATRICK BRONTE A.B., HARTSHEAD