About a year after Mrs. Bronte's death, an elder sister, as I have before
mentioned, came from Penzance to superintend her brother-in-law's
household, and look after his children. Miss Branwell was, I believe, a
kindly and conscientious woman, with a good deal of character, but with
the somewhat narrow ideas natural to one who had spent nearly all her
life in the same place. She had strong prejudices, and soon took a
distaste to Yorkshire. From Penzance, where plants which we in the north
call greenhouse flowers grow in great profusion, and without any shelter
even in the winter, and where the soft warm climate allows the
inhabitants, if so disposed, to live pretty constantly in the open air,
it was a great change for a lady considerably past forty to come and take
up her abode in a place where neither flowers nor vegetables would
flourish, and where a tree of even moderate dimensions might be hunted
for far and wide; where the snow lay long and late on the moors,
stretching bleakly and barely far up from the dwelling which was
henceforward to be her home; and where often, on autumnal or winter
nights, the four winds of heaven seemed to meet and rage together,
tearing round the house as if they were wild beasts striving to find an
entrance. She missed the small round of cheerful, social visiting
perpetually going on in a country town; she missed the friends she had
known from her childhood, some of whom had been her parents' friends
before they were hers; she disliked many of the customs of the place, and
particularly dreaded the cold damp arising from the flag floors in the
passages and parlours of Haworth Parsonage. The stairs, too, I believe,
are made of stone; and no wonder, when stone quarries are near, and trees
are far to seek. I have heard that Miss Branwell always went about the
house in pattens, clicking up and down the stairs, from her dread of
catching cold. For the same reason, in the latter years of her life, she
passed nearly all her time, and took most of her meals, in her bedroom.
The children respected her, and had that sort of affection for her which
is generated by esteem; but I do not think they ever freely loved her. It
was a severe trial for any one at her time of life to change
neighbourhood and habitation so entirely as she did; and the greater her
merit.
I do not know whether Miss Branwell taught her nieces anything besides
sewing, and the household arts in which Charlotte afterwards was such an
adept. Their regular lessons were said to their father; and they were
always in the habit of picking up an immense amount of miscellaneous
information for themselves. But a year or so before this time, a school
had been begun in the North of England for the daughters of clergymen.
The place was Cowan Bridge, a small hamlet on the coach-road between
Leeds and Kendal, and thus easy of access from Haworth, as the coach ran
daily, and one of its stages was at Keighley. The yearly expense for
each pupil (according to the entrance-rules given in the Report for 1842,
and I believe they had not been increased since the establishment of the
schools in 1823) was as follows:
"Rule 11. The terms for clothing, lodging, boarding, and educating, are
14_l_. a year; half to be paid in advance, when the pupils are sent; and
also 1_l_. entrance-money, for the use of books, &c. The system of
education comprehends history, geography, the use of the globes, grammar,
writing and arithmetic, all kinds of needlework, and the nicer kinds of
household work--such as getting up fine linen, ironing, &c. If
accomplishments are required, an additional charge of 3_l_. a year is
made for music or drawing, each."
Rule 3rd requests that the friends will state the line of education
desired in the case of every pupil, having a regard to her future
prospects.
Rule 4th states the clothing and toilette articles which a girl is
expected to bring with her; and thus concludes: "The pupils all appear in
the same dress. They wear plain straw cottage bonnets; in summer white
frocks on Sundays, and nankeen on other days; in winter, purple stuff
frocks, and purple cloth cloaks. For the sake of uniformity, therefore,
they are required to bring 3_l_. in lieu of frocks, pelisse, bonnet,
tippet, and frills; making the whole sum which each pupil brings with her
to the school--
7_l_. half-year in advance.
1_l_. entrance for books.
1_l_. entrance for clothes.
The 8th rule is,--"All letters and parcels are inspected by the
superintendent;" but this is a very prevalent regulation in all young
ladies' schools, where I think it is generally understood that the
schoolmistress may exercise this privilege, although it is certainly
unwise in her to insist too frequently upon it.
There is nothing at all remarkable in any of the other regulations, a
copy of which was doubtless in Mr. Bronte's hands when he formed the
determination to send his daughters to Cowan Bridge School; and he
accordingly took Maria and Elizabeth thither in July, 1824.
I now come to a part of my subject which I find great difficulty in
treating, because the evidence relating to it on each side is so
conflicting that it seems almost impossible to arrive at the truth. Miss
Bronte more than once said to me, that she should not have written what
she did of Lowood in "Jane Eyre," if she had thought the place would have
been so immediately identified with Cowan Bridge, although there was not
a word in her account of the institution but what was true at the time
when she knew it; she also said that she had not considered it necessary,
in a work of fiction, to state every particular with the impartiality
that might be required in a court of justice, nor to seek out motives,
and make allowances for human failings, as she might have done, if
dispassionately analysing the conduct of those who had the
superintendence of the institution. I believe she herself would have
been glad of an opportunity to correct the over-strong impression which
was made upon the public mind by her vivid picture, though even she,
suffering her whole life long, both in heart and body, from the
consequences of what happened there, might have been apt, to the last, to
take her deep belief in facts for the facts themselves--her conception of
truth for the absolute truth.
In some of the notices of the previous editions of this work, it is
assumed that I derived the greater part of my information with regard to
her sojourn at Cowan Bridge from Charlotte Bronte herself. I never heard
her speak of the place but once, and that was on the second day of my
acquaintance with her. A little child on that occasion expressed some
reluctance to finish eating his piece of bread at dinner; and she,
stooping down, and addressing him in a low voice, told him how thankful
she should have been at his age for a piece of bread; and when we--though
I am not sure if I myself spoke--asked her some question as to the
occasion she alluded to, she replied with reserve and hesitation,
evidently shying away from what she imagined might lead to too much
conversation on one of her books. She spoke of the oat-cake at Cowan
Bridge (the clap-bread of Westmorland) as being different to the leaven-
raised oat-cake of Yorkshire, and of her childish distaste for it. Some
one present made an allusion to a similar childish dislike in the true
tale of "The terrible knitters o' Dent" given in Southey's "Common-place
Book:" and she smiled faintly, but said that the mere difference in food
was not all: that the food itself was spoilt by the dirty carelessness of
the cook, so that she and her sisters disliked their meals exceedingly;
and she named her relief and gladness when the doctor condemned the meat,
and spoke of having seen him spit it out. These are all the details I
ever heard from her. She so avoided particularizing, that I think Mr.
Carus Wilson's name never passed between us.
I do not doubt the general accuracy of my informants,--of those who have
given, and solemnly repeated, the details that follow,--but it is only
just to Miss Bronte to say that I have stated above pretty nearly all
that I ever heard on the subject from her.
A clergyman, living near Kirby Lonsdale, the Reverend William Carus
Wilson, was the prime mover in the establishment of this school. He was
an energetic man, sparing no labour for the accomplishment of his ends.
He saw that it was an extremely difficult task for clergymen with limited
incomes to provide for the education of their children; and he devised a
scheme, by which a certain sum was raised annually by subscription, to
complete the amount required to furnish a solid and sufficient English
education, for which the parent's payment of 14_l_. a year would not have
been sufficient. Indeed, that made by the parents was considered to be
exclusively appropriated to the expenses of lodging and boarding, and the
education provided for by the subscriptions. Twelve trustees were
appointed; Mr. Wilson being not only a trustee, but the treasurer and
secretary; in fact, taking most of the business arrangements upon
himself; a responsibility which appropriately fell to him, as he lived
nearer the school than any one else who was interested in it. So his
character for prudence and judgment was to a certain degree implicated in
the success or failure of Cowan Bridge School; and the working of it was
for many years the great object and interest of his life. But he was
apparently unacquainted with the prime element in good
administration--seeking out thoroughly competent persons to fill each
department, and then making them responsible for, and judging them by,
the result, without perpetual interference with the details.
So great was the amount of good which Mr. Wilson did, by his constant,
unwearied superintendence, that I cannot help feeling sorry that, in his
old age and declining health, the errors which he was believed to have
committed, should have been brought up against him in a form which
received such wonderful force from the touch of Miss Bronte's great
genius. No doubt whatever can be entertained of the deep interest which
he felt in the success of the school. As I write, I have before me his
last words on giving up the secretaryship in 1850: he speaks of the
"withdrawal, from declining health, of an eye, which, at all events, has
loved to watch over the schools with an honest and anxious interest;"--and
again he adds, "that he resigns, therefore, with a desire to be thankful
for all that God has been pleased to accomplish through his
instrumentality (the infirmities and unworthinesses of which he deeply
feels and deplores)."
Cowan Bridge is a cluster of some six or seven cottages, gathered
together at both ends of a bridge, over which the high road from Leeds to
Kendal crosses a little stream, called the Leck. This high road is
nearly disused now; but formerly, when the buyers from the West Riding
manufacturing districts had frequent occasion to go up into the North to
purchase the wool of the Westmorland and Cumberland farmers, it was
doubtless much travelled; and perhaps the hamlet of Cowan Bridge had a
more prosperous look than it bears at present. It is prettily situated;
just where the Leck-fells swoop into the plain; and by the course of the
beck alder-trees and willows and hazel bushes grow. The current of the
stream is interrupted by broken pieces of grey rock; and the waters flow
over a bed of large round white pebbles, which a flood heaves up and
moves on either side out of its impetuous way till in some parts they
almost form a wall. By the side of the little, shallow, sparkling,
vigorous Leck, run long pasture fields, of the fine short grass common in
high land; for though Cowan Bridge is situated on a plain, it is a plain
from which there is many a fall and long descent before you and the Leck
reach the valley of the Lune. I can hardly understand how the school
there came to be so unhealthy, the air all round about was so sweet and
thyme-scented, when I visited it last summer. But at this day, every one
knows that the site of a building intended for numbers should be chosen
with far greater care than that of a private dwelling, from the tendency
to illness, both infectious and otherwise, produced by the congregation
of people in close proximity.
The house is still remaining that formed part of that occupied by the
school. It is a long, bow-windowed cottage, now divided into two
dwellings. It stands facing the Leck, between which and it intervenes a
space, about seventy yards deep, that was once the school garden. This
original house was an old dwelling of the Picard family, which they had
inhabited for two generations. They sold it for school purposes, and an
additional building was erected, running at right angles from the older
part. This new part was devoted expressly to schoolrooms, dormitories,
&c.; and after the school was removed to Casterton, it was used for a
bobbin-mill connected with the stream, where wooden reels were made out
of the alders, which grow profusely in such ground as that surrounding
Cowan Bridge. This mill is now destroyed. The present cottage was, at
the time of which I write, occupied by the teachers' rooms, the dinner-
room and kitchens, and some smaller bedrooms. On going into this
building, I found one part, that nearest to the high road, converted into
a poor kind of public-house, then to let, and having all the squalid
appearance of a deserted place, which rendered it difficult to judge what
it would look like when neatly kept up, the broken panes replaced in the
windows, and the rough-cast (now cracked and discoloured) made white and
whole. The other end forms a cottage, with the low ceilings and stone
floors of a hundred years ago; the windows do not open freely and widely;
and the passage upstairs, leading to the bedrooms, is narrow and
tortuous: altogether, smells would linger about the house, and damp cling
to it. But sanitary matters were little understood thirty years ago; and
it was a great thing to get a roomy building close to the high road, and
not too far from the habitation of Mr. Wilson, the originator of the
educational scheme. There was much need of such an institution; numbers
of ill-paid clergymen hailed the prospect with joy, and eagerly put down
the names of their children as pupils when the establishment should be
ready to receive them. Mr. Wilson was, no doubt, pleased by the
impatience with which the realisation of his idea was anticipated, and
opened the school with less than a hundred pounds in hand, and with
pupils, the number of whom varies according to different accounts; Mr. W.
W. Carus Wilson, the son of the founder, giving it as seventy; while Mr.
Shepheard, the son-in-law, states it to have been only sixteen.
Mr. Wilson felt, most probably, that the responsibility of the whole plan
rested upon him. The payment made by the parents was barely enough for
food and lodging; the subscriptions did not flow very freely into an
untried scheme; and great economy was necessary in all the domestic
arrangements. He determined to enforce this by frequent personal
inspection; carried perhaps to an unnecessary extent, and leading
occasionally to a meddling with little matters, which had sometimes the
effect of producing irritation of feeling. Yet, although there was
economy in providing for the household, there does not appear to have
been any parsimony. The meat, flour, milk, &c., were contracted for, but
were of very fair quality; and the dietary, which has been shown to me in
manuscript, was neither bad nor unwholesome; nor, on the whole, was it
wanting in variety. Oatmeal porridge for breakfast; a piece of oat-cake
for those who required luncheon; baked and boiled beef, and mutton,
potato-pie, and plain homely puddings of different kinds for dinner. At
five o'clock, bread and milk for the younger ones; and one piece of bread
(this was the only time at which the food was limited) for the elder
pupils, who sat up till a later meal of the same description.
Mr. Wilson himself ordered in the food, and was anxious that it should be
of good quality. But the cook, who had much of his confidence, and
against whom for a long time no one durst utter a complaint, was
careless, dirty, and wasteful. To some children oatmeal porridge is
distasteful, and consequently unwholesome, even when properly made; at
Cowan Bridge School it was too often sent up, not merely burnt, but with
offensive fragments of other substances discoverable in it. The beef,
that should have been carefully salted before it was dressed, had often
become tainted from neglect; and girls, who were school-fellows with the
Brontes, during the reign of the cook of whom I am speaking, tell me that
the house seemed to be pervaded, morning, noon, and night, by the odour
of rancid fat that steamed out of the oven in which much of their food
was prepared. There was the same carelessness in making the puddings;
one of those ordered was rice boiled in water, and eaten with a sauce of
treacle and sugar; but it was often uneatable, because the water had been
taken out of the rain tub, and was strongly impregnated with the dust
lodging on the roof, whence it had trickled down into the old wooden
cask, which also added its own flavour to that of the original rain
water. The milk, too, was often "bingy," to use a country expression for
a kind of taint that is far worse than sourness, and suggests the idea
that it is caused by want of cleanliness about the milk pans, rather than
by the heat of the weather. On Saturdays, a kind of pie, or mixture of
potatoes and meat, was served up, which was made of all the fragments
accumulated during the week. Scraps of meat from a dirty and disorderly
larder, could never be very appetizing; and, I believe, that this dinner
was more loathed than any in the early days of Cowan Bridge School. One
may fancy how repulsive such fare would be to children whose appetites
were small, and who had been accustomed to food, far simpler perhaps, but
prepared with a delicate cleanliness that made it both tempting and
wholesome. At many a meal the little Brontes went without food, although
craving with hunger. They were not strong when they came, having only
just recovered from a complication of measles and hooping-cough: indeed,
I suspect they had scarcely recovered; for there was some consultation on
the part of the school authorities whether Maria and Elizabeth should be
received or not, in July 1824. Mr. Bronte came again, in the September
of that year, bringing with him Charlotte and Emily to be admitted as
pupils.
It appears strange that Mr. Wilson should not have been informed by the
teachers of the way in which the food was served up; but we must remember
that the cook had been known for some time to the Wilson family, while
the teachers were brought together for an entirely different work--that
of education. They were expressly given to understand that such was
their department; the buying in and management of the provisions rested
with Mr. Wilson and the cook. The teachers would, of course, be
unwilling to lay any complaints on the subject before him.
There was another trial of health common to all the girls. The path from
Cowan Bridge to Tunstall Church, where Mr. Wilson preached, and where
they all attended on the Sunday, is more than two miles in length, and
goes sweeping along the rise and fall of the unsheltered country, in a
way to make it a fresh and exhilarating walk in summer, but a bitter cold
one in winter, especially to children like the delicate little Brontes,
whose thin blood flowed languidly in consequence of their feeble
appetites rejecting the food prepared for them, and thus inducing a half-
starved condition. The church was not warmed, there being no means for
this purpose. It stands in the midst of fields, and the damp mist must
have gathered round the walls, and crept in at the windows. The girls
took their cold dinner with them, and ate it between the services, in a
chamber over the entrance, opening out of the former galleries. The
arrangements for this day were peculiarly trying to delicate children,
particularly to those who were spiritless and longing for home, as poor
Maria Bronte must have been; for her ill health was increasing, and the
old cough, the remains of the hooping-cough, lingered about her.
She was far superior in mind to any of her play-fellows and companions,
and was lonely amongst them from that very cause; and yet she had faults
so annoying that she was in constant disgrace with her teachers, and an
object of merciless dislike to one of them, who is depicted as "Miss
Scatcherd" in "Jane Eyre," and whose real name I will be merciful enough
not to disclose. I need hardly say, that Helen Burns is as exact a
transcript of Maria Bronte as Charlotte's wonderful power of reproducing
character could give. Her heart, to the latest day on which we met,
still beat with unavailing indignation at the worrying and the cruelty to
which her gentle, patient, dying sister had been subjected by this woman.
Not a word of that part of "Jane Eyre" but is a literal repetition of
scenes between the pupil and the teacher. Those who had been pupils at
the same time knew who must have written the book from the force with
which Helen Burns' sufferings are described. They had, before that,
recognised the description of the sweet dignity and benevolence of Miss
Temple as only a just tribute to the merits of one whom all that knew her
appear to hold in honour; but when Miss Scatcherd was held up to
opprobrium they also recognised in the writer of "Jane Eyre" an
unconsciously avenging sister of the sufferer.
One of their fellow-pupils, among other statements even worse, gives me
the following:--The dormitory in which Maria slept was a long room,
holding a row of narrow little beds on each side, occupied by the pupils;
and at the end of this dormitory there was a small bed-chamber opening
out of it, appropriated to the use of Miss Scatcherd. Maria's bed stood
nearest to the door of this room. One morning, after she had become so
seriously unwell as to have had a blister applied to her side (the sore
from which was not perfectly healed), when the getting-up bell was heard,
poor Maria moaned out that she was so ill, so very ill, she wished she
might stop in bed; and some of the girls urged her to do so, and said
they would explain it all to Miss Temple, the superintendent. But Miss
Scatcherd was close at hand, and her anger would have to be faced before
Miss Temple's kind thoughtfulness could interfere; so the sick child
began to dress, shivering with cold, as, without leaving her bed, she
slowly put on her black worsted stockings over her thin white legs (my
informant spoke as if she saw it yet, and her whole face flushed out
undying indignation). Just then Miss Scatcherd issued from her room,
and, without asking for a word of explanation from the sick and
frightened girl, she took her by the arm, on the side to which the
blister had been applied, and by one vigorous movement whirled her out
into the middle of the floor, abusing her all the time for dirty and
untidy habits. There she left her. My informant says, Maria hardly
spoke, except to beg some of the more indignant girls to be calm; but, in
slow, trembling movements, with many a pause, she went down-stairs at
last,--and was punished for being late.
Any one may fancy how such an event as this would rankle in Charlotte's
mind. I only wonder that she did not remonstrate against her father's
decision to send her and Emily back to Cowan Bridge, after Maria's and
Elizabeth's deaths. But frequently children are unconscious of the
effect which some of their simple revelations would have in altering the
opinions entertained by their friends of the persons placed around them.
Besides, Charlotte's earnest vigorous mind saw, at an unusually early
age, the immense importance of education, as furnishing her with tools
which she had the strength and the will to wield, and she would be aware
that the Cowan Bridge education was, in many points, the best that her
father could provide for her.
Before Maria Bronte's death, that low fever broke out, in the spring of
1825, which is spoken of in "Jane Eyre." Mr. Wilson was extremely
alarmed at the first symptoms of this. He went to a kind motherly woman,
who had had some connection with the school--as laundress, I believe--and
asked her to come and tell him what was the matter with them. She made
herself ready, and drove with him in his gig. When she entered the
schoolroom, she saw from twelve to fifteen girls lying about; some
resting their aching heads on the table, others on the ground; all heavy-
eyed, flushed, indifferent, and weary, with pains in every limb. Some
peculiar odour, she says, made her recognise that they were sickening for
"the fever;" and she told Mr. Wilson so, and that she could not stay
there for fear of conveying the infection to her own children; but he
half commanded, and half entreated her to remain and nurse them; and
finally mounted his gig and drove away, while she was still urging that
she must return to her own house, and to her domestic duties, for which
she had provided no substitute. However, when she was left in this
unceremonious manner, she determined to make the best of it; and a most
efficient nurse she proved: although, as she says, it was a dreary time.
Mr. Wilson supplied everything ordered by the doctors, of the best
quality and in the most liberal manner; the invalids were attended by Dr.
Batty, a very clever surgeon in Kirby, who had had the medical
superintendence of the establishment from the beginning, and who
afterwards became Mr. Wilson's brother-in-law. I have heard from two
witnesses besides Charlotte Bronte, that Dr. Batty condemned the
preparation of the food by the expressive action of spitting out a
portion of it. He himself, it is but fair to say, does not remember this
circumstance, nor does he speak of the fever itself as either alarming or
dangerous. About forty of the girls suffered from this, but none of them
died at Cowan Bridge; though one died at her own home, sinking under the
state of health which followed it. None of the Brontes had the fever.
But the same causes, which affected the health of the other pupils
through typhus, told more slowly, but not less surely, upon their
constitutions. The principal of these causes was the food.
The bad management of the cook was chiefly to be blamed for this; she was
dismissed, and the woman who had been forced against her will to serve as
head nurse, took the place of housekeeper; and henceforward the food was
so well prepared that no one could ever reasonably complain of it. Of
course it cannot be expected that a new institution, comprising domestic
and educational arrangements for nearly a hundred persons, should work
quite smoothly at the beginning.
All this occurred during the first two years of the establishment, and in
estimating its effect upon the character of Charlotte Bronte, we must
remember that she was a sensitive thoughtful child, capable of reflecting
deeply, if not of analyzing truly; and peculiarly susceptible, as are all
delicate and sickly children, to painful impressions. What the healthy
suffer from but momentarily and then forget, those who are ailing brood
over involuntarily and remember long,--perhaps with no resentment, but
simply as a piece of suffering that has been stamped into their very
life. The pictures, ideas, and conceptions of character received into
the mind of the child of eight years old, were destined to be reproduced
in fiery words a quarter of a century afterwards. She saw but one side
of Mr. Wilson's character; and many of those who knew him at that time
assure me of the fidelity with which this is represented, while at the
same time they regret that the delineation should have obliterated, as it
were, nearly all that was noble or conscientious. And that there were
grand and fine qualities in Mr. Wilson, I have received abundant
evidence. Indeed for several weeks past I have received letters almost
daily, bearing on the subject of this chapter; some vague, some definite;
many full of love and admiration for Mr. Wilson, some as full of dislike
and indignation; few containing positive facts. After giving careful
consideration to this mass of conflicting evidence, I have made such
alterations and omissions in this chapter as seem to me to be required.
It is but just to state that the major part of the testimony with which I
have been favoured from old pupils is in high praise of Mr. Wilson. Among
the letters that I have read, there is one whose evidence ought to be
highly respected. It is from the husband of "Miss Temple." She died in
1856, but he, a clergyman, thus wrote in reply to a letter addressed to
him on the subject by one of Mr. Wilson's friends:--"Often have I heard
my late dear wife speak of her sojourn at Cowan Bridge; always in terms
of admiration of Mr. Carus Wilson, his parental love to his pupils, and
their love for him; of the food and general treatment, in terms of
approval. I have heard her allude to an unfortunate cook, who used at
times to spoil the porridge, but who, she said, was soon dismissed."
The recollections left of the four Bronte sisters at this period of their
lives, on the minds of those who associated with them, are not very
distinct. Wild, strong hearts, and powerful minds, were hidden under an
enforced propriety and regularity of demeanour and expression, just as
their faces had been concealed by their father, under his stiff,
unchanging mask. Maria was delicate, unusually clever and thoughtful for
her age, gentle, and untidy. Of her frequent disgrace from this last
fault--of her sufferings, so patiently borne--I have already spoken. The
only glimpse we get of Elizabeth, through the few years of her short
life, is contained in a letter which I have received from "Miss Temple."
"The second, Elizabeth, is the only one of the family of whom I have a
vivid recollection, from her meeting with a somewhat alarming accident,
in consequence of which I had her for some days and nights in my bedroom,
not only for the sake of greater quiet, but that I might watch over her
myself. Her head was severely cut, but she bore all the consequent
suffering with exemplary patience, and by it won much upon my esteem. Of
the two younger ones (if two there were) I have very slight
recollections, save that one, a darling child, under five years of age,
was quite the pet nursling of the school." This last would be Emily.
Charlotte was considered the most talkative of the sisters--a "bright,
clever, little child." Her great friend was a certain "Mellany Hane" (so
Mr. Bronte spells the name), whose brother paid for her schooling, and
who had no remarkable talent except for music, which her brother's
circumstances forbade her to cultivate. She was "a hungry, good-natured,
ordinary girl;" older than Charlotte, and ever ready to protect her from
any petty tyranny or encroachments on the part of the elder girls.
Charlotte always remembered her with affection and gratitude.
I have quoted the word "bright" in the account of Charlotte. I suspect
that this year of 1825 was the last time it could ever be applied to her.
In the spring of it, Maria became so rapidly worse that Mr. Bronte was
sent for. He had not previously been aware of her illness, and the
condition in which he found her was a terrible shock to him. He took her
home by the Leeds coach, the girls crowding out into the road to follow
her with their eyes over the bridge, past the cottages, and then out of
sight for ever. She died a very few days after her arrival at home.
Perhaps the news of her death falling suddenly into the life of which her
patient existence had formed a part, only a little week or so before,
made those who remained at Cowan Bridge look with more anxiety on
Elizabeth's symptoms, which also turned out to be consumptive. She was
sent home in charge of a confidential servant of the establishment; and
she, too, died in the early summer of that year. Charlotte was thus
suddenly called into the responsibilities of eldest sister in a
motherless family. She remembered how anxiously her dear sister Maria
had striven, in her grave earnest way, to be a tender helper and a
counsellor to them all; and the duties that now fell upon her seemed
almost like a legacy from the gentle little sufferer so lately dead.
Both Charlotte and Emily returned to school after the Midsummer holidays
in this fatal year. But before the next winter it was thought desirable
to advise their removal, as it was evident that the damp situation of the
house at Cowan Bridge did not suit their health. {3}