Early in March, 1841, Miss Bronte obtained her second and last situation
as a governess. This time she esteemed herself fortunate in becoming a
member of a kind-hearted and friendly household. The master of it, she
especially regarded as a valuable friend, whose advice helped to guide
her in one very important step of her life. But as her definite
acquirements were few, she had to eke them out by employing her leisure
time in needlework; and altogether her position was that of "bonne" or
nursery governess, liable to repeated and never-ending calls upon her
time. This description of uncertain, yet perpetual employment, subject
to the exercise of another person's will at all hours of the day, was
peculiarly trying to one whose life at home had been full of abundant
leisure. _Idle_ she never was in any place, but of the multitude of
small talks, plans, duties, pleasures, &c., that make up most people's
days, her home life was nearly destitute. This made it possible for her
to go through long and deep histories of feeling and imagination, for
which others, odd as it sounds, have rarely time. This made it
inevitable that--later on, in her too short career--the intensity of her
feeling should wear out her physical health. The habit of "making out,"
which had grown with her growth, and strengthened with her strength, had
become a part of her nature. Yet all exercise of her strongest and most
characteristic faculties was now out of the question. She could not (as
while she was at Miss W---'s) feel, amidst the occupations of the day,
that when evening came, she might employ herself in more congenial ways.
No doubt, all who enter upon the career of a governess have to relinquish
much; no doubt, it must ever be a life of sacrifice; but to Charlotte
Bronte it was a perpetual attempt to force all her faculties into a
direction for which the whole of her previous life had unfitted them.
Moreover, the little Brontes had been brought up motherless; and from
knowing nothing of the gaiety and the sportiveness of childhood--from
never having experienced caresses or fond attentions themselves--they
were ignorant of the very nature of infancy, or how to call out its
engaging qualities. Children were to them the troublesome necessities of
humanity; they had never been drawn into contact with them in any other
way. Years afterwards, when Miss Bronte came to stay with us, she
watched our little girls perpetually; and I could not persuade her that
they were only average specimens of well brought up children. She was
surprised and touched by any sign of thoughtfulness for others, of
kindness to animals, or of unselfishness on their part: and constantly
maintained that she was in the right, and I in the wrong, when we
differed on the point of their unusual excellence. All this must be
borne in mind while reading the following letters. And it must likewise
be borne in mind--by those who, surviving her, look back upon her life
from their mount of observation--how no distaste, no suffering ever made
her shrink from any course which she believed it to be her duty to engage
in.
"March 3rd, 1841.
"I told some time since, that I meant to get a situation, and when I
said so my resolution was quite fixed. I felt that however often I
was disappointed, I had no intention of relinquishing my efforts.
After being severely baffled two or three times,--after a world of
trouble, in the way of correspondence and interviews,--I have at
length succeeded, and am fairly established in my new place.
* * * * *
"The house is not very large, but exceedingly comfortable and well
regulated; the grounds are fine and extensive. In taking the place, I
have made a large sacrifice in the way of salary, in the hope of
securing comfort,--by which word I do not mean to express good eating
and drinking, or warm fire, or a soft bed, but the society of cheerful
faces, and minds and hearts not dug out of a lead-mine, or cut from a
marble quarry. My salary is not really more than 16_l_. per annum,
though it is nominally 20_l_., but the expense of washing will be
deducted therefrom. My pupils are two in number, a girl of eight, and
a boy of six. As to my employers, you will not expect me to say much
about their characters when I tell you that I only arrived here
yesterday. I have not the faculty of telling an individual's
disposition at first sight. Before I can venture to pronounce on a
character, I must see it first under various lights and from various
points of view. All I can say therefore is, both Mr. and Mrs. ---
seem to me good sort of people. I have as yet had no cause to
complain of want of considerateness or civility. My pupils are wild
and unbroken, but apparently well-disposed. I wish I may be able to
say as much next time I write to you. My earnest wish and endeavour
will be to please them. If I can but feel that I am giving
satisfaction, and if at the same time I can keep my health, I shall, I
hope, be moderately happy. But no one but myself can tell how hard a
governess's work is to me--for no one but myself is aware how utterly
averse my whole mind and nature are for the employment. Do not think
that I fail to blame myself for this, or that I leave any means
unemployed to conquer this feeling. Some of my greatest difficulties
lie in things that would appear to you comparatively trivial. I find
it so hard to repel the rude familiarity of children. I find it so
difficult to ask either servants or mistress for anything I want,
however much I want it. It is less pain for me to endure the greatest
inconvenience than to go into the kitchen to request its removal. I
am a fool. Heaven knows I cannot help it!
"Now can you tell me whether it is considered improper for governesses
to ask their friends to come and see them. I do not mean, of course,
to stay, but just for a call of an hour or two? If it is not absolute
treason, I do fervently request that you will contrive, in some way or
other, to let me have a sight of your face. Yet I feel, at the same
time, that I am making a very foolish and almost impracticable demand;
yet this is only four miles from B---!"
* * * * *
"March 21st.
"You must excuse a very short answer to your most welcome letter; for
my time is entirely occupied. Mrs. --- expected a good deal of sewing
from me. I cannot sew much during the day, on account of the
children, who require the utmost attention. I am obliged, therefore,
to devote the evenings to this business. Write to me often; very long
letters. It will do both of us good. This place is far better than
---, but God knows, I have enough to do to keep a good heart in the
matter. What you said has cheered me a little. I wish I could always
act according to your advice. Home-sickness affects me sorely. I
like Mr. --- extremely. The children are over-indulged, and
consequently hard at times to manage. _Do, do_, do come and see me;
if it be a breach of etiquette, never mind. If you can only stop an
hour, come. Talk no more about my forsaking you; my darling, I could
not afford to do it. I find it is not in my nature to get on in this
weary world without sympathy and attachment in some quarter; and
seldom indeed do we find it. It is too great a treasure to be ever
wantonly thrown away when once secured."
Miss Bronte had not been many weeks in her new situation before she had a
proof of the kind-hearted hospitality of her employers. Mr. --- wrote to
her father, and urgently invited him to come and make acquaintance with
his daughter's new home, by spending a week with her in it; and Mrs. ---
expressed great regret when one of Miss Bronte's friends drove up to the
house to leave a letter or parcel, without entering. So she found that
all her friends might freely visit her, and that her father would be
received with especial gladness. She thankfully acknowledged this
kindness in writing to urge her friend afresh to come and see her; which
she accordingly did.
"June, 1841.
"You can hardly fancy it possible, I dare say, that I cannot find a
quarter of an hour to scribble a note in; but so it is; and when a
note is written, it has to be carried a mile to the post, and that
consumes nearly an hour, which is a large portion of the day. Mr. and
Mrs. --- have been gone a week. I heard from them this morning. No
time is fixed for their return, but I hope it will not be delayed
long, or I shall miss the chance of seeing Anne this vacation. She
came home, I understand, last Wednesday, and is only to be allowed
three weeks' vacation, because the family she is with are going to
Scarborough. _I should like to see her_, to judge for myself of the
state of her health. I dare not trust any other person's report, no
one seems minute enough in their observations. I should very much
have liked you to have seen her. I have got on very well with the
servants and children so far; yet it is dreary, solitary work. You
can tell as well as me the lonely feeling of being without a
companion."
Soon after this was written, Mr. and Mrs. --- returned, in time to allow
Charlotte to go and look after Anne's health, which, as she found to her
intense anxiety, was far from strong. What could she do to nurse and
cherish up this little sister, the youngest of them all? Apprehension
about her brought up once more the idea of keeping a school. If, by this
means, they three could live together, and maintain themselves, all might
go well. They would have some time of their own, in which to try again
and yet again at that literary career, which, in spite of all baffling
difficulties, was never quite set aside as an ultimate object; but far
the strongest motive with Charlotte was the conviction that Anne's health
was so delicate that it required a degree of tending which none but her
sister could give. Thus she wrote during those midsummer holidays.
"Haworth, July 18th, 1841.
"We waited long and anxiously for you, on the Thursday that you
promised to come. I quite wearied my eyes with watching from the
window, eye-glass in hand, and sometimes spectacles on nose. However,
you are not to blame . . . and as to disappointment, why, all must
suffer disappointment at some period or other of their lives. But a
hundred things I had to say to you will now be forgotten, and never
said. There is a project hatching in this house, which both Emily and
I anxiously wished to discuss with you. The project is yet in its
infancy, hardly peeping from its shell; and whether it will ever come
out a fine full-fledged chicken, or will turn addle and die before it
cheeps, is one of those considerations that are but dimly revealed by
the oracles of futurity. Now, don't be nonplussed by all this
metaphorical mystery. I talk of a plain and everyday occurrence,
though, in Delphic style, I wrap up the information in figures of
speech concerning eggs, chickens etceatera, etcaeterorum. To come to
the point: Papa and aunt talk, by fits and starts, of our--id est,
Emily, Anne, and myself--commencing a school! I have often, you know,
said how much I wished such a thing; but I never could conceive where
the capital was to come from for making such a speculation. I was
well aware, indeed, that aunt had money, but I always considered that
she was the last person who would offer a loan for the purpose in
question. A loan, however, she _has_ offered, or rather intimates
that she perhaps _will_ offer in case pupils can be secured, an
eligible situation obtained, &c. This sounds very fair, but still
there are matters to be considered which throw something of a damp
upon the scheme. I do not expect that aunt will sink more than
150_l_. in such a venture; and would it be possible to establish a
respectable (not by any means a _showy_) school, and to commence
housekeeping with a capital of only that amount? Propound the
question to your sister, if you think she can answer it; if not, don't
say a word on the subject. As to getting into debt, that is a thing
we could none of us reconcile our mind to for a moment. We do not
care how modest, how humble our commencement be, so it be made on sure
grounds, and have a safe foundation. In thinking of all possible and
impossible places where we could establish a school, I have thought of
Burlington, or rather of the neighbourhood of Burlington. Do you
remember whether there was any other school there besides that of Miss
---? This is, of course, a perfectly crude and random idea. There
are a hundred reasons why it should be an impracticable one. We have
no connections, no acquaintances there; it is far from home, &c.
Still, I fancy the ground in the East Riding is less fully occupied
than in the West. Much inquiry and consideration will be necessary,
of course, before any place is decided on; and I fear much time will
elapse before any plan is executed . . . Write as soon as you can. I
shall not leave my present situation till my future prospects assume a
more fixed and definite aspect."
A fortnight afterwards, we see that the seed has been sown which was to
grow up into a plan materially influencing her future life.
"August 7th, 1841.
"This is Saturday evening; I have put the children to bed; now I am
going to sit down and answer your letter. I am again by
myself--housekeeper and governess--for Mr. and Mrs. --- are staying at
---. To speak truth, though I am solitary while they are away, it is
still by far the happiest part of my time. The children are under
decent control, the servants are very observant and attentive to me,
and the occasional absence of the master and mistress relieves me from
the duty of always endeavouring to seem cheerful and conversable.
Martha ---, it appears, is in the way of enjoying great advantages; so
is Mary, for you will be surprised to hear that she is returning
immediately to the Continent with her brother; not, however, to stay
there, but to take a month's tour and recreation. I have had a long
letter from Mary, and a packet containing a present of a very handsome
black silk scarf, and a pair of beautiful kid gloves, bought at
Brussels. Of course, I was in one sense pleased with the gift--pleased
that they should think of me so far off, amidst the excitements of one
of the most splendid capitals of Europe; and yet it felt irksome to
accept it. I should think Mary and Martha have not more than
sufficient pocket-money to supply themselves. I wish they had
testified their regard by a less expensive token. Mary's letters
spoke of some of the pictures and cathedrals she had seen--pictures
the most exquisite, cathedrals the most venerable. I hardly know what
swelled to my throat as I read her letter: such a vehement impatience
of restraint and steady work; such a strong wish for wings--wings such
as wealth can furnish; such an urgent thirst to see, to know, to
learn; something internal seemed to expand bodily for a minute. I was
tantalised by the consciousness of faculties unexercised,--then all
collapsed, and I despaired. My dear, I would hardly make that
confession to any one but yourself; and to you, rather in a letter
than _viva voce_. These rebellious and absurd emotions were only
momentary; I quelled them in five minutes. I hope they will not
revive, for they were acutely painful. No further steps have been
taken about the project I mentioned to you, nor probably will be for
the present; but Emily, and Anne, and I, keep it in view. It is our
polar star, and we look to it in all circumstances of despondency. I
begin to suspect I am writing in a strain which will make you think I
am unhappy. This is far from being the case; on the contrary, I know
my place is a favourable one, for a governess. What dismays and
haunts me sometimes, is a conviction that I have no natural knack for
my vocation. If teaching only were requisite, it would be smooth and
easy; but it is the living in other people's houses--the estrangement
from one's real character--the adoption of a cold, rigid, apathetic
exterior, that is painful . . . You will not mention our school
project at present. A project not actually commenced is always
uncertain. Write to me often, my dear Nell; you _know_ your letters
are valued. Your 'loving child' (as you choose to call me so),
C. B.
"P.S. I am well in health; don't fancy I am not, but I have one
aching feeling at my heart (I must allude to it, though I had resolved
not to). It is about Anne; she has so much to endure: far, far more
than I ever had. When my thoughts turn to her, they always see her as
a patient, persecuted stranger. I know what concealed susceptibility
is in her nature, when her feelings are wounded. I wish I could be
with her, to administer a little balm. She is more lonely--less
gifted with the power of making friends, even than I am. 'Drop the
subject.'"
She could bear much for herself; but she could not patiently bear the
sorrows of others, especially of her sisters; and again, of the two
sisters, the idea of the little, gentle, youngest suffering in lonely
patience, was insupportable to her. Something must be done. No matter
if the desired end were far away; all time was lost in which she was not
making progress, however slow, towards it. To have a school, was to have
some portion of daily leisure, uncontrolled but by her own sense of duty;
it was for the three sisters, loving each other with so passionate an
affection, to be together under one roof, and yet earning their own
subsistence; above all, it was to have the power of watching over these
two whose life and happiness were ever to Charlotte far more than her
own. But no trembling impatience should lead her to take an unwise step
in haste. She inquired in every direction she could, as to the chances
which a new school might have of success. In all there seemed more
establishments like the one which the sisters wished to set up than could
be supported. What was to be done? Superior advantages must be offered.
But how? They themselves abounded in thought, power, and information;
but these are qualifications scarcely fit to be inserted in a prospectus.
Of French they knew something; enough to read it fluently, but hardly
enough to teach it in competition with natives or professional masters.
Emily and Anne had some knowledge of music; but here again it was
doubtful whether, without more instruction, they could engage to give
lessons in it.
Just about this time, Miss W--- was thinking of relinquishing her school
at Dewsbury Moor; and offered to give it up in favour of her old pupils,
the Brontes. A sister of hers had taken the active management since the
time when Charlotte was a teacher; but the number of pupils had
diminished; and, if the Brontes undertook it, they would have to try and
work it up to its former state of prosperity. This, again, would require
advantages on their part which they did not at present possess, but which
Charlotte caught a glimpse of. She resolved to follow the clue, and
never to rest till she had reached a successful issue. With the forced
calm of a suppressed eagerness, that sends a glow of desire through every
word of the following letter, she wrote to her aunt thus.
"Dear Aunt,
"Sept. 29th, 1841.
"I have heard nothing of Miss W--- yet since I wrote to her,
intimating that I would accept her offer. I cannot conjecture the
reason of this long silence, unless some unforeseen impediment has
occurred in concluding the bargain. Meantime, a plan has been
suggested and approved by Mr. and Mrs. --- " (the father and mother of
her pupils) "and others, which I wish now to impart to you. My
friends recommend me, if I desire to secure permanent success, to
delay commencing the school for six months longer, and by all means to
contrive, by hook or by crook, to spend the intervening time in some
school on the continent. They say schools in England are so numerous,
competition so great, that without some such step towards attaining
superiority, we shall probably have a very hard struggle, and may fail
in the end. They say, moreover, that the loan of 100_l_., which you
have been so kind as to offer us, will, perhaps, not be all required
now, as Miss W--- will lend us the furniture; and that, if the
speculation is intended to be a good and successful one, half the sum,
at least, ought to be laid out in the manner I have mentioned, thereby
insuring a more speedy repayment both of interest and principal.
"I would not go to France or to Paris. I would go to Brussels, in
Belgium. The cost of the journey there, at the dearest rate of
travelling, would be 5_l_.; living is there little more than half as
dear as it is in England, and the facilities for education are equal
or superior to any other place in Europe. In half a year, I could
acquire a thorough familiarity with French. I could improve greatly
in Italian, and even get a dash of German, i.e., providing my health
continued as good as it is now. Mary is now staying at Brussels, at a
first-rate establishment there. I should not think of going to the
Chateau de Kokleberg, where she is resident, as the terms are much too
high; but if I wrote to her, she, with the assistance of Mrs. Jenkins,
the wife of the British Chaplain, would be able to secure me a cheap,
decent residence and respectable protection. I should have the
opportunity of seeing her frequently; she would make me acquainted
with the city; and, with the assistance of her cousins, I should
probably be introduced to connections far more improving, polished,
and cultivated, than any I have yet known.
"These are advantages which would turn to real account, when we
actually commenced a school; and, if Emily could share them with me,
we could take a footing in the world afterwards which we can never do
now. I say Emily instead of Anne; for Anne might take her turn at
some future period, if our school answered. I feel certain, while I
am writing, that you will see the propriety of what I say. You always
like to use your money to the best advantage. You are not fond of
making shabby purchases; when you do confer a favour, it is often done
in style; and depend upon it, 50_l_., or 100_l_., thus laid out, would
be well employed. Of course, I know no other friend in the world to
whom I could apply on this subject except yourself. I feel an
absolute conviction that, if this advantage were allowed us, it would
be the making of us for life. Papa will, perhaps, think it a wild and
ambitious scheme; but who ever rose in the world without ambition?
When he left Ireland to go to Cambridge University, he was as
ambitious as I am now. I want us _all_ to get on. I know we have
talents, and I want them to be turned to account. I look to you,
aunt, to help us. I think you will not refuse. I know, if you
consent, it shall not be my fault if you ever repent your kindness."
This letter was written from the house in which she was residing as
governess. It was some little time before an answer came. Much had to
be talked over between the father and aunt in Haworth Parsonage. At last
consent was given. Then, and not till then, she confided her plan to an
intimate friend. She was not one to talk over-much about any project,
while it remained uncertain--to speak about her labour, in any direction,
while its result was doubtful.
"Nov. 2nd, 1841.
"Now let us begin to quarrel. In the first place, I must consider
whether I will commence operations on the defensive, or the offensive.
The defensive, I think. You say, and I see plainly, that your
feelings have been hurt by an apparent want of confidence on my part.
You heard from others of Miss W---'s overtures before I communicated
them to you myself. This is true. I was deliberating on plans
important to my future prospects. I never exchanged a letter with you
on the subject. True again. This appears strange conduct to a
friend, near and dear, long-known, and never found wanting. Most
true. I cannot give you my _excuses_ for this behaviour; this word
_excuse_ implies confession of a fault, and I do not feel that I have
been in fault. The plain fact is, I _was_ not, I am not now, certain
of my destiny. On the contrary, I have been most uncertain, perplexed
with contradictory schemes and proposals. My time, as I have often
told you, is fully occupied; yet I had many letters to write, which it
was absolutely necessary should be written. I knew it would avail
nothing to write to you then to say I was in doubt and
uncertainty--hoping this, fearing that, anxious, eagerly desirous to
do what seemed impossible to be done. When I thought of you in that
busy interval, it was to resolve, that you should know all when my way
was clear, and my grand end attained. If I could, I would always work
in silence and obscurity, and let my efforts be known by their
results. Miss W--- did most kindly propose that I should come to
Dewsbury Moor and attempt to revive the school her sister had
relinquished. She offered me the use of her furniture. At first, I
received the proposal cordially, and prepared to do my utmost to bring
about success; but a fire was kindled in my very heart, which I could
not quench. I so longed to increase my attainments--to become
something better than I am; a glimpse of what I felt, I showed to you
in one of my former letters--only a glimpse; Mary cast oil upon the
flames--encouraged me, and in her own strong, energetic language,
heartened me on. I longed to go to Brussels; but how could I get
there? I wished for one, at least, of my sisters to share the
advantage with me. I fixed on Emily. She deserved the reward, I
knew. How could the point be managed? In extreme excitement, I wrote
a letter home, which carried the day. I made an appeal to aunt for
assistance, which was answered by consent. Things are not settled;
yet it is sufficient to say we have a _chance_ of going for half a
year. Dewsbury Moor is relinquished. Perhaps, fortunately so. In my
secret soul, I believe there is no cause to regret it. My plans for
the future are bounded to this intention: if I once get to Brussels,
and if my health is spared, I will do my best to make the utmost of
every advantage that shall come within my reach. When the half-year
is expired, I will do what I can.
* * * * *
"Believe me, though I was born in April, the month of cloud and
sunshine, I am not changeful. My spirits are unequal, and sometimes I
speak vehemently, and sometimes I say nothing at all; but I have a
steady regard for you, and if you will let the cloud and shower pass
by, be sure the sun is always behind, obscured, but still existing."
At Christmas she left her situation, after a parting with her employers
which seems to have affected and touched her greatly. "They only made
too much of me," was her remark, after leaving this family; "I did not
deserve it."
* * * * *
All four children hoped to meet together at their father's house this
December. Branwell expected to have a short leave of absence from his
employment as a clerk on the Leeds and Manchester Railway, in which he
had been engaged for five months. Anne arrived before Christmas-day. She
had rendered herself so valuable in her difficult situation, that her
employers vehemently urged her to return, although she had announced her
resolution to leave them; partly on account of the harsh treatment she
had received, and partly because her stay at home, during her sisters'
absence in Belgium, seemed desirable, when the age of the three remaining
inhabitants of the parsonage was taken into consideration.
After some correspondence and much talking over plans at home, it seemed
better, in consequence of letters which they received from Brussels
giving a discouraging account of the schools there, that Charlotte and
Emily should go to an institution at Lille, in the north of France, which
was highly recommended by Baptist Noel, and other clergymen. Indeed, at
the end of January, it was arranged that they were to set off for this
place in three weeks, under the escort of a French lady, then visiting in
London. The terms were 50_l_. each pupil, for board and French alone,
but a separate room was to be allowed for this sum; without this
indulgence, it was lower. Charlotte writes:--
"January 20th, 1842.
"I consider it kind in aunt to consent to an extra sum for a separate
room. We shall find it a great privilege in many ways. I regret the
change from Brussels to Lille on many accounts, chiefly that I shall
not see Martha. Mary has been indefatigably kind in providing me with
information. She has grudged no labour, and scarcely any expense, to
that end. Mary's price is above rubies. I have, in fact, two
friends--you and her--staunch and true, in whose faith and sincerity I
have as strong a belief as I have in the Bible. I have bothered you
both--you especially; but you always get the tongs and heap coals of
fire upon my head. I have had letters to write lately to Brussels, to
Lille, and to London. I have lots of chemises, nightgowns, pocket-
handkerchiefs, and pockets to make; besides clothes to repair. I have
been, every week since I came home, expecting to see Branwell, and he
has never been able to get over yet. We fully expect him, however,
next Saturday. Under these circumstances how can I go visiting? You
tantalize me to death with talking of conversations by the fireside.
Depend upon it, we are not to have any such for many a long month to
come. I get an interesting impression of old age upon my face; and
when you see me next I shall certainly wear caps and spectacles."