(1816-1855)
The least that can be said of Charlotte Bronté is that she is a unique
figure in literature. Nowhere else do we find another personality
combining such extraordinary qualities of mind and heart,--qualities
strangely contrasted, but still more strangely harmonized. At times they
are baffling, but always fascinating. Nowhere else do we find so
intimate an association of the personality of the author with the work,
so thorough an identification with it of the author's life, even to the
smaller details. So true is this in the case of Charlotte Bronté that
the four novels 'Jane Eyre,' 'Shirley,' 'Villette,' and 'The Professor'
might with some justice be termed 'Charlotte Bronté; her life and her
friends.' Her works were in large part an expression of herself; at
times the best expression of herself--of her actual self in experience
and of her spiritual self in travail and in aspiration. It is manifestly
impossible therefore to consider the works of Charlotte Bronté with
justice apart from herself. A correct understanding of her books can be
obtained only from a study of her remarkable personality and of the sad
circumstances of her life.
Public interest in Charlotte Bronté was first roused in 1847. In October
of that year there appeared in London a novel that created a sensation,
the like of which had not been known since the publication of
'Waverley.' Its stern and paradoxical disregard for the conventional,
its masculine energy, and its intense realism, startled the public, and
proclaimed to all in accents unmistakable that a new, strange, and
splendid power had come into literature, "but yet a woman."
And with the success of 'Jane Eyre' came a lively curiosity to know
something of the personality of the author. This was not gratified for
some time. There were many conjectures, all of them far amiss. The
majority of readers asserted confidently that the work must be that of a
man; the touch was unmistakably masculine. In some quarters it met with
hearty abuse. The Quarterly Review, in an article still notorious for
its brutality, condemned the book as coarse, and stated that if 'Jane
Eyre' were really written by a woman, she must be an improper woman, who
had forfeited the society of her sex. This was said in December, 1848,
of one of the noblest and purest of womankind. It is not a matter of
surprise that the identity of this audacious speculator was not
revealed. The recent examination into the topic by Mr. Clement Shorter
seems, however, to fix the authorship of the notice on Lady Eastlake, at
that time Miss Driggs.
But hostile criticism of the book and its mysterious author could not
injure its popularity. The story swept all before it--press and public.
Whatever might be the source, the work stood there and spoke for itself
in commanding terms. At length the mystery was cleared. A shrewd
Yorkshireman guessed and published the truth, and the curious world knew
that the author of 'Jane Eyre' was the daughter of a clergyman in the
little village of Haworth, and that the literary sensation of the day
found its source in a nervous, shrinking, awkward, plain, delicate young
creature of thirty-one years of age, whose life, with the exception of
two years, had been spent on the bleak and dreary moorlands of
Yorkshire, and for the most part in the narrow confines of a grim gray
stone parsonage. There she had lived a pinched and meagre little life,
full of sadness and self-denial, with two sisters more delicate than
herself, a dissolute brother, and a father her only parent,--a stern and
forbidding father. This was no genial environment for an author, even if
helpful to her vivid imagination. Nor was it a temporary condition; it
was a permanent one. Nearly all the influences in Charlotte Bronté's
life were such as these, which would seem to cramp if not to stifle
sensitive talent. Her brother Branwell (physically weaker than herself,
though unquestionably talented, and for a time the idol and hope of the
family) became dissipated, irresponsible, untruthful, and a
ne'er-do-weel, and finally yielding to circumstances, ended miserably a
life of failure.
But Charlotte Bronté's nature was one of indomitable courage, that
circumstances might shadow but could not obscure. Out of the meagre
elements of her narrow life she evolved works that stand among the
imperishable things of English literature. It is a paradox that finds
its explanation only in a statement of natural sources, primitive,
bardic, the sources of the early epics, the sources of such epics as
Cædmon and Beowulf bore. She wrote from a sort of necessity; it was in
obedience to the commanding authority of an extraordinary genius,--a
creative power that struggled for expression,--and much of her work
deserves in the best and fullest sense the term "inspired."
[Illustration: Charlotte Bronté]
The facts of her life are few in number, but they have a direct and
significant bearing on her work. She was born at Thornton, in the parish
of Bradford, in 1816. Four years later her father moved to Haworth, to
the parsonage now indissolubly associated with her name, and there Mr.
Bronté entered upon a long period of pastorate service, that only
ended with his death. Charlotte's mother was dead. In 1824 Charlotte and
two older sisters, Maria and Elizabeth, went to a school at Cowan's
Bridge. It was an institution for clergymen's children, a vivid picture
of which appears in 'Jane Eyre.' It was so badly managed and the food
was so poor that many of the children fell sick, among them Maria
Bronté, who died in 1825. Elizabeth followed her a few months later, and
Charlotte returned to Haworth, where she remained for six years, then
went to school at Roe Head for a period of three years. She was offered
the position of teacher by Miss Wooler, the principal at Roe Head, but
considering herself unfit to teach, she resolved to go to Brussels to
study French. She spent two years there, and it was there that her
intimate and misconstrued friendship for M. Heger developed. The
incidents of that period formed the material of a greater portion of her
novel 'Villette,' filled twenty-two volumes of from sixty to one hundred
pages of fine writing, and consisted of some forty complete novelettes
or other stories and childish "magazines."
On returning to Haworth, she endeavored, together with her sister Emily,
to establish a school at their home. But pupils were not to be had, and
the outlook was discouraging. Two periods of service as governess, and
the ill health that had followed, had taught Charlotte the danger that
threatened her. Her experiences as a governess in the Sedgwick family
were pictured by-and-by in 'Jane Eyre.' In a letter to Miss Ellen
Nussey, written at this time, she gives a dark vignette of her
situation.
With her two sisters Emily and Anne she lived a quiet and retired life.
The harsh realities about them, the rough natures of the Yorkshire
people, impelled the three sisters to construct in their home an ideal
world of their own, and in this their pent-up natures found expression.
Their home was lonely and gloomy. Mr. Clement K. Shorter, in his recent
study of the novelist and her family, says that the house is much the
same to-day, though its immediate surroundings are brightened.
He writes:
"One day Emily confided to Charlotte that she had written some verses.
Charlotte answered with a similar confidence, and then Anne acknowledged
that she too had been secretly writing. This mutual confession brought
about a complete understanding and sympathy, and from that time on the
sisters worked together--reading their literary productions to one
another and submitting to each other's criticism."
This was however by no means Charlotte's first literary work. She has
left a catalogue of books written by her between 1829 and 1830. Her
first printed work however appeared in a volume of 'Poems' by Acton,
Ellis, and Currer Bell, published in 1846 at the expense of the authors.
Under these names the little book of the Bronté sisters went forth to
the world, was reviewed with mild favor in some few periodicals, and was
lost to sight.
Then came a period of novel-writing. As a result, Emily Bronté's
'Wuthering Heights,' Anne Bronté's 'Agnes Grey,' and Charlotte Bronté's
'The Professor' set out together to find a publisher. The last-named was
unsuccessful; but on the day it was returned to her, Charlotte Bronté
began writing 'Jane Eyre.' That first masterpiece was shaped during a
period of sorrow and discouragement. Her father was ill and in danger of
losing his eyesight. Her brother Bran well was sinking into the slough
of disgrace. No wonder 'Jane Eyre' is not a story of sunshine and roses.
She finished the story in 1847, and it was accepted by the publishers
promptly upon examination.
After its publication and the sensation produced, Charlotte Bronté
continued her literary work quietly, and unaffected by the furore she
had aroused. A few brief visits to London, where attempts were made to
lionize her,--very much to her distaste,--a few literary friendships,
notably those with Thackeray, George Henry Lewes, Mrs. Gaskell, and
Harriet Martineau, were the only features that distinguished her
literary life from the simple life she had always led and continued to
lead at Haworth. She was ever busy, if not ever at her desk. Success had
come; she was sane in the midst of it. She wrote slowly and only as she
felt the impulse, and when she knew she had found the proper impression.
In 1849 'Shirley' was published. In 1853 appeared 'Villette,' her last
finished work, and the one considered by herself the best.
In 1854 she married her father's curate, Mr. A.B. Nicholls. She had lost
her brother Branwell and her two sisters Emily and Anne. Sorrow upon
sorrow had closed like deepening shadows about her. All happiness in
life for her had apparently ended, when this marriage brought a brief
ray of sunshine. It was a happy union, and seemed to assure a period of
peace and rest for the sorely tried soul. Only a few short months,
however, and fate, as if grudging her even the bit of happiness, snapped
the slender threads of her life and the whole sad episode of her
existence was ended. She died March 31st, 1855, leaving her husband and
father to mourn together in the lonely parsonage. She left a literary
fragment--the story entitled 'Emma,' which was published with an
introduction by Thackeray.
Such are the main facts of this reserved life of Charlotte Bronté. Are
they dull and commonplace? Some of them are indeed inexpressibly sad.
Tragedy is beneath all the bitter chronicle. The sadness of her days can
be appreciated by all who read her books. Through all her stories there
is an intense note, especially in treating the pathos of existence, that
is unmistakably subjective. There is a keen perception of the darker
depths of human nature that could have been revealed to a human heart
only by suffering and sorrow.
She did not allow sadness, however, to crush her spirit. She was neither
morbid nor melancholy, but on the contrary Charlotte was cheerful and
pleasant in disposition and manner. She was a loving sister and devoted
daughter, patient and obedient to a parent who afterwards made obedience
a severe hardship. There were other sides to her character. She was not
always calm. She was not ever tender and a maker of allowances. But who
is such? And she had good reason to be impatient with the world as
she found it.
Her character and disposition are partially reflected in 'Jane Eyre.'
The calm, clear mind, the brave, independent spirit are there. But a
fuller and more accurate picture of her character may be found in Lucy
Snowe, the heroine of 'Villette.' Here we find especially that note of
hopelessness that predominated in Charlotte's character. Mrs. Gaskell,
in her admirable biography of Charlotte Bronté, has called attention to
this absence of hope in her nature. Charlotte indeed never allowed
herself to look forward to happy issues. She had no confidence in the
future. The pressure of grief apparently crushed all buoyancy of
expectation. It was in this attitude that when literary success greeted
her, she made little of it, scarcely allowing herself to believe that
the world really set a high value on her work. Throughout all the
excitement that her books produced, she was almost indifferent. Brought
up as she had been to regard literary work as something beyond the
proper limits of her sex, she never could quite rid herself of the
belief that in writing successfully, she had made of herself not so much
a literary figure as a sort of social curiosity. Nor was that idea
wholly foreign to her time.
Personally Charlotte Bronté was not unattractive. Though somewhat too
slender and pale, and plain of feature, she had a pleasant expression,
and her homelier features were redeemed by a strong massive forehead,
luxuriant glossy hair, and handsome eyes. Though she had little faith in
her powers of inspiring affection, she attracted people strongly and was
well beloved by her friends. That she could stir romantic sentiment too
was attested by the fact that she received and rejected three proposals
of marriage from as many suitors, before her acceptance of Mr. Nicholls.
Allusion has been made to the work of Charlotte's two sisters, Emily and
Anne. Of the two Emily is by far the more remarkable, revealing in the
single novel we have from her pen a genius as distinct and individual as
that of her more celebrated sister. Had she lived, it is more than
likely that her literary achievements would have rivaled Charlotte's.
Emily Bronté has always been something of a puzzle to biographers. She
was eccentric, an odd mixture of bashful reserve and unexpected spells
of frankness, sweet, gentle, and retiring in disposition, but possessed
of great courage. She was two years younger than Charlotte, but taller.
She was slender, though well formed, and was pale in complexion, with
great gray eyes of remarkable beauty. Emily's literary work is to be
found in the volume of "Poems" of her sisters, her share in that work
being considered superior in imaginative quality and in finish to that
of the others; and in the novel "Wuthering Heights," a weird, horrid
story of astonishing power, written when she was twenty-eight years of
age. Considered purely as an imaginative work, "Wuthering Heights" is
one of the most remarkable stories in English literature, and is worthy
to be ranked with the works of Edgar A. Poe. Many will say that it might
better not have been written, so utterly repulsive is it, but others
will value it as a striking, though distorted, expression of
unmistakable genius. It is a ghastly and gruesome creation. Not one
bright ray redeems it. It deals with the most evil characters and the
most evil phases of human experience. But it fascinates. Heathcliff, the
chief figure in the book, is one of the greatest villains in
fiction,--an abhorrent creature,--strange, monstrous, Frankensteinesque.
Anne Bronté is known by her share in the book of "Poems" and by two
novels, "Agnes Gray" and "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall," both of which
are disappointing. The former is based on the author's experiences as a
governess, and is written in the usual placid style of romances of the
time. "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall" found its suggestion in the wretched
career of Branwell Bronté, and presents a sad and depressing picture of
a life of degradation. The book was not a success, and would no doubt
have sunk long ago into oblivion but for its association with the novels
of Emily and Charlotte.
In studying the work of Charlotte Bronté, the gifted older sister of the
group, one of the first of the qualities that impress the reader is her
actual creative power. To one of her imaginative power, the simplest
life was sufficient, the smallest details a fund of material. Mr.
Swinburne has called attention to the fact that Charlotte Bronté's
characters are individual creations, not types constructed out of
elements gathered from a wide observation of human nature, and that they
are _real_ creations; that they compel our interest and command our
assent because they are true, inevitably true. Perhaps no better example
of this individualism could be cited than Rochester. The character is
unique. It is not a type, nor has it even a prototype, like so many of
Charlotte Bronté's characters. Gossip insisted at one time that the
author intended to picture Thackeray in Rochester, but this is
groundless. Rochester is an original creation. The character of Jane
Eyre, too, while reflecting something of the author's nature, was
distinctly individual; and it is interesting to note here that with Jane
Eyre came a new heroine into fiction, a woman of calm, clear reason, of
firm positive character, and what was most novel, a plain woman, a
homely heroine.
"Why is it," Charlotte had once said, "that heroines must always be
beautiful?" The hero of romance was always noble and handsome, the
heroine lovely and often insipid, and the scenes set in an atmosphere of
exaggerated idealism. Against this idealism Charlotte Bronté revolted.
Her effort was always toward realism.
In her realism she reveals a second characteristic scarcely less marked
than her creative powers,--an extraordinary faculty of observation. She
saw the essence, the spirit of things, and the simplest details of life
revealed to her the secrets of human nature. What she had herself seen
and felt--the plain rugged types of Yorkshire character, the wild
scenery of the moorlands--she reflected with living truth. She got the
real fact out of every bit of material in humanity and nature that her
simple life afforded her. And where her experience could not afford her
the necessary material, she drew upon some mysterious resources in her
nature, which were apparently not less reliable than actual experience.
On being asked once how she could describe so accurately the effects of
opium as she does in 'Villette,' she replied that she knew nothing of
opium, but that she had followed the process she always adopted in cases
of this kind. She had thought intently on the matter for many a night
before falling asleep; till at length, after some time, she waked in the
morning with all clear before her, just as if she had actually gone
through the experience, and then could describe it word for word as
it happened.
Her sensitiveness to impressions of nature was exceedingly keen. She had
what Swinburne calls "an instinct for the tragic use of landscape." By
constant and close observation during her walks she had established a
fellowship with nature in all her phases; learning her secrets from the
voices of the night, from the whisper of the trees, and from the eerie
moaning of the moorland blasts. She studied the cold sky, and had
watched the "coming night-clouds trailing low like banners drooping."
Other qualities that distinguish her work are purity, depth and ardor of
passion, and spiritual force and fervor. Her genius was lofty and noble,
and an exalted moral quality predominates in her stories. She was
ethical as sincerely as she was emotional.
We have only to consider her technique, in which she is
characteristically original. This originality is noticeable especially
in her use of words. There is a sense of fitness that often surprises
the reader. Words at times in her hands reveal a new power and
significance. In the choice of words Charlotte Bronté was scrupulous.
She believed that there was just one word fit to express the idea or
shade of meaning she wished to convey, and she never admitted a
substitute, sometimes waiting days until the right word came. Her
expressions are therefore well fitted and forcible. Though the
predominant key is a serious one, there is nevertheless considerable
humor in Charlotte Bronté's work. In 'Shirley' especially we find many
happy scenes, and much wit in repartee. And yet, with all these merits,
one will find at times her style to be lame, stiff, and crude, and even
when strongest, occasionally coarse. Not infrequently she is
melodramatic and sensational. But through it all there is that pervading
sense of reality and it redeems these defects.
Of the unusual, the improbable, the highly colored in Charlotte Bronté's
books we shall say little. In criticizing works so true to life and
nature as these, one should not be hasty. We feel the presence of a
seer. Some one once made an objection in Charlotte Bronté's presence to
that part of 'Jane Eyre' in which she hears Rochester's voice calling to
her at a great crisis in her life, he being many miles distant from her
at the time. Charlotte caught her breath and replied in a low
voice:--"But it is a true thing; it really happened." And so it might be
said of Charlotte Bronté's work as a whole:--"It is a true thing; it
really happened."