"When mere children, as soon as they could read and write, Charlotte
and her brothers and sisters used to invent and act little plays of
their own in which the Duke of Wellington, my daughter Charlotte's
hero, was sure to come off conqueror; when a dispute would not
unfrequently arise amongst them regarding the comparative merits of
him, Bonaparte, Hannibal, and Caesar. When the argument got warm, and
rose to its height, as their mother was then dead, I had sometimes to
come in as arbitrator, and settle the dispute according to the best of
my judgment. Generally, in the management of these concerns, I
frequently thought that I discovered signs of rising talent, which I
had seldom or never before seen in any of their age. . . . A
circumstance now occurs to my mind which I may as well mention. When
my children were very young, when, as far as I can remember, the oldest
was about ten years of age, and the youngest about four, thinking they
knew more than I had yet discovered, in order to make them speak with
less timidity, I deemed that if they were put under a sort of cover I
might gain my end; and happening to have a mask in the house, I told
them all to stand and speak boldly from under cover of the mask.
"I began with the youngest (Anne, afterward Acton Bell), and asked what
a child like her most wanted; she answered, 'Age and experience.' I
asked the next (Emily, afterward Ellis Bell) what I had best do with
her brother Branwell, who was sometimes a naughty boy; she answered,
'Reason with him, and when he won't listen to reason, whip him.' I
asked Branwell what was the best way of knowing the difference between
the intellects of men and women; he answered, 'By considering the
difference between them as to their bodies.' I then asked Charlotte
what was the best book in the world; she answered, 'The Bible.' And
what was the next best; she answered, 'The Book of Nature.' I then
asked the next what was the best mode of education for a woman; she
answered, 'That which would make her rule her house well.' Lastly I
asked the oldest what was the best mode of spending time; she answered,
'By laying it out in preparation for a happy eternity.'
"I may not have given precisely their words, but I have nearly done so,
as they made a deep and lasting impression on my memory. The
substance, however, was exactly what I have stated."
The strange and quaint simplicity of the mode taken by the father to
ascertain the hidden characters of his children, and the tone and
character of these questions and answers, show the curious education
which was made by the circumstances surrounding the Brontës. They knew
no other children. They knew no other modes of thought than what were
suggested to them by the fragments of clerical conversation which they
overheard in the parlour, or the subjects of village and local interest
which they heard discussed in the kitchen. Each had their own strong
characteristic flavour.
They took a vivid interest in the public characters, and the local and
foreign politics discussed in the newspapers. Long before Maria Brontë
died, at the age of eleven, her father used to say he would converse
with her on any of the leading topics of the day with as much freedom
and pleasure as with any grown-up person. . . .
Miss Branwell instructed the children at regular hours in all she could
teach, making her bed-chamber into their schoolroom. Their father was
in the habit of relating to them any public news in which he felt an
interest; and from the opinions of his strong and independent mind they
would gather much food for thought; but I do not know whether he gave
them any direct instruction. Charlotte's deep, thoughtful spirit
appears to have felt almost painfully the tender responsibility which
rested upon her with reference to her remaining sisters. She was only
eighteen months older than Emily; but Emily and Anne were simply
companions and playmates, while Charlotte was motherly friend and
guardian to both; and this loving assumption of duties beyond her years
made her feel considerably older than she really was.
I have had a curious packet confided to me, containing an immense
amount of manuscript, in an inconceivably small space; tales, dramas,
poems, romances, written principally by Charlotte, in a hand which is
almost impossible to decipher without the aid of a magnifying
glass. . . .
As each volume contains from sixty to a hundred pages . . . the amount
of the whole seems very great, if we remember that it was all written
in about fifteen months. So much for the quantity; the quality strikes
me as of singular merit for a girl of thirteen or fourteen. Both as a
specimen of her prose style at this time, and also as revealing
something of the quiet domestic life led by these children, I take an
extract from the introduction to "Tales of the Islanders," the title of
one of their "Little Magazines":
"JUNE the 31st, 1829.
"The play of the 'Islanders' was formed in December, 1827, in the
following manner: One night, about the time when cold sleet and stormy
fogs of November are succeeded by the snowstorms and high, piercing
night-winds of confirmed winter, we were all sitting round the warm
blazing kitchen fire, having just concluded a quarrel with Tabby
concerning the propriety of lighting a candle, from which she came off
victorious, no candle having been produced. A long pause succeeded,
which was at last broken by Branwell saying in a lazy manner, 'I don't
know what to do.' This was echoed by Emily and Anne.
"Tabby. 'Wha ya may go t'bed.'
"Branwell. 'I'd rather do anything than that.'
"Charlotte. 'Why are you so glum to-night, Tabby? Oh! suppose we had
each an island of our own.'
"Branwell. 'If we had I would choose the Island of Man.'
"Charlotte. 'And I would choose the Isle of Wight.'
"Emily. 'The Isle of Arran for me.'
"Anne. 'And mine should be Guernsey.'
"We then chose who would be chief men in our Islands. Branwell chose
John Bull, Astley Cooper, and Leigh Hunt; Emily, Walter Scott, Mr.
Lockhart, Johnny Lockhart; Anne, Michael Sadler, Lord Bentinck, Sir
Henry Halford. I chose the Duke of Wellington and two sons,
Christopher North and Co., and Mr. Abernethy. Here our conversation
was interrupted by the, to us, dismal sound of the clock striking
seven, and we were summoned off to bed. The next day we added many
others to our list of men, till we got almost all the chief men of the
kingdom. After this, for a long time, nothing worth noticing occurred.
In June, 1828, we erected a school on a fictitious island, which was to
contain 1,000 children. The manner of the building was as follows: The
island was fifty miles in circumference, and certainly appeared more
like the work of enchantment than anything real," etc. . . .
There is another scrap of paper in this all but illegible handwriting,
written about this time, and which gives some idea of the sources of
their opinions. . . .
"Papa and Branwell are gone for the newspaper, the Leeds
_Intelligencer_, a most excellent Tory newspaper, edited by Mr. Wood,
and the proprietor, Mr. Henneman. We take two, and see three,
newspapers a week. We take the Leeds _Intelligencer_, Tory, and the
Leeds _Mercury_, Whig, edited by Mr. Baines, and his brother,
son-in-law, and his two sons, Edward and Talbot. We see the _John
Bull_; it is a high Tory, very violent. Mr. Driver lends us it, as
likewise _Blackwood's Magazine_, the most able periodical there is.
The editor is Mr. Christopher North, an old man seventy-four years of
age; the 1st of April is his birthday; his company are Timothy Tickler,
Morgan O'Doherty, Macrabin Mordecai, Mullion, Warnell, and James Hogg,
a man of most extraordinary genius, a Scottish shepherd. Our plays
were established, 'Young Men,' June, 1826; 'Our Fellows,' July, 1827;
'Islanders,' December, 1827. These are our three great plays that are
not kept secret. Emily's and my best plays were established the 1st of
December, 1827; the others March, 1828. Best plays mean secret plays,
they are very nice ones. All our plays are very strange ones. Their
nature I need not write on paper, for I think I shall always remember
them. The 'Young Men's' play took its rise from some wooden soldiers
Branwell had; 'Our Fellows' from 'Aesop's Fables'; and the 'Islanders'
from several events which happened. I will sketch out the origin of
our plays more explicitly if I can. First, 'Young Men.' Papa brought
Branwell some wooden soldiers at Leeds; when papa came home it was
night, and we were in bed, so next morning Branwell came to our door
with a box of soldiers. Emily and I jumped out of bed, and I snatched
up one and exclaimed, 'This is the Duke of Wellington! This shall be
the Duke!' When I had said this Emily likewise took one up and said it
should be hers; when Anne came down, she said one should be hers. Mine
was the prettiest of the whole, and the tallest, and the most perfect
in every part. Emily's was a grave-looking fellow, and we called him
'Gravey.' Anne's was a queer little thing, much like herself, and we
called him 'Waiting-boy.' Branwell chose his, and called him
'Buonaparte.'"
The foregoing extract shows something of the kind of reading in which
the little Brontës were interested; but their desire for knowledge must
have been excited in many directions, for I find a "list of painters
whose works I wish to see," drawn up by Charlotte Brontë when she was
scarcely thirteen: "Guido Reni, Julio Romano Titian, Raphael, Michael
Angelo, Coreggio, Annibal Carracci, Leonardo da Vinci, Fra Bartolomeo,
Carlo Cignani, Vandyke, Rubens, Bartolomeo Ramerghi."
Here is this little girl, in a remote Yorkshire parsonage, who has
probably never seen anything worthy the name of a painting in her life
studying the names and characteristics of the great old Italian and
Flemish masters, whose works she longs to see some time, in the dim
future that lies before her! There is a paper remaining which contains
minute studies of, and criticisms upon, the engravings in "Friendship's
Offering for 1829," showing how she had early formed those habits of
close observation and patient analysis of cause and effect, which
served so well in after-life as handmaids to her genius.
The way in which Mr. Brontë made his children sympathize with him in
his great interest in politics must have done much to lift them above
the chances of their minds being limited or tainted by petty local
gossip. I take the only other remaining personal fragment out of
"Tales of the Islanders"; it is a sort of apology, contained in the
introduction to the second volume, for their not having been continued
before; the writers have been for a long time too busy and lately too
much absorbed in politics:
"Parliament was opened, and the great Catholic question was brought
forward, and the Duke's measures were disclosed, and all was slander,
violence, party spirit, and confusion. Oh, those six months, from the
time of the King's speech to the end! Nobody could write, think, or
speak on any subject but the Catholic question, and the Duke of
Wellington, and Mr. Peel. I remember the day when the _Intelligence
Extraordinary_ came with Mr. Peel's speech in it, containing the terms
on which the Catholics were to be let in! With what eagerness papa
tore off the cover, and how we all gathered round him, and with what
breathless anxiety we listened, as one by one they were disclosed, and
explained, and argued upon so ably and so well; and then when it was
all out, how aunt said that she thought it was excellent, and that the
Catholics could do no harm with such good security. I remember also
the doubts as to whether it would pass the House of Lords, and the
prophecies that it would not; and when the paper came which was to
decide the question, the anxiety was almost dreadful with which we
listened to the whole affair; the opening of the doors, the hush; the
royal dukes in their robes, and the great duke in green sash and
waistcoat; the rising of all the peeresses when he rose; the reading of
his speech--papa saying that his words were like precious gold; and
lastly, the majority of one to four (sic) in favour of the Bill. But
this is a digression."
This must have been written when she was between thirteen and fourteen.
She was an indefatigable student; constantly reading and learning; with
a strong conviction of the necessity and value of education very
unusual in a girl of fifteen. She never lost a moment of time, and
seemed almost to grudge the necessary leisure for relaxation and
play-hours, which might be partly accounted for by the awkwardness in
all games occasioned by her shortness of sight. Yet, in spite of these
unsociable habits, she was a great favourite with her school-fellows.
She was always ready to try and do what they wished, though not sorry
when they called her awkward, and left her out of their sports. Then,
at night, she was an invaluable story-teller, frightening them almost
out of their wits as they lay in bed. On one occasion the effect was
such that she was led to scream out loud, and Miss Wooler, coming
upstairs, found that one of the listeners had been seized with violent
palpitations, in consequence of the excitement produced by Charlotte's
story.
Her indefatigable craving for knowledge tempted Miss Wooler on into
setting her longer and longer tasks of reading for examination; and
toward the end of the two years that she remained as a pupil at Roe
Head, she received her first bad mark for an imperfect lesson. She had
had a great quantity of Blair's "Lectures on Belles-Lettres" to read;
and she could not answer some of the questions upon it; Charlotte
Brontë had a bad mark. Miss Wooler was sorry, and regretted that she
had over-tasked so willing a pupil. Charlotte cried bitterly. But her
school-fellows were more than sorry--they were indignant. They
declared that the infliction of ever so slight a punishment on
Charlotte Brontë was unjust--for who had tried to do her duty like
her?--and testified their feeling in a variety of ways, until Miss
Wooler, who was in reality only too willing to pass over her good
pupil's first fault, withdrew the bad mark. . . .
After her return home she employed herself in teaching her sisters over
whom she had had superior advantages. She writes thus, July 21, 1832,
of her course of life at the parsonage:
"An account of one day is an account of all. In the morning, from nine
o'clock till half-past twelve, I instruct my sisters, and draw; then we
walk till dinner-time. After dinner I sew till tea-time, and after tea
I either write, read, or do a little fancywork, or draw, as I please.
Thus, in one delightful though somewhat monotonous course, my life is
passed. I have been out only twice to tea since I came home. We are
expecting company this afternoon, and on Tuesday next we shall have all
the female teachers of the Sunday-school to tea."
It was about this time that Mr. Brontë provided his children with a
teacher in drawing, who turned out to be a man of considerable talent
but very little principle. Although they never attained to anything
like proficiency, they took great interest in acquiring this art;
evidently from an instinctive desire to express their powerful
imaginations in visible forms. Charlotte told me that at this period
of her life drawing and walking out with her sisters formed the two
great pleasures and relaxations of her day. . . .
Quiet days, occupied in teaching and feminine occupations in the house,
did not present much to write about; and Charlotte was naturally driven
to criticise books.
Of these there were many in different plights, and according to their
plight, kept in different places. The well bound were ranged in the
sanctuary of Mr. Brontë's study; but the purchase of books was a
necessary luxury to him, and as it was often a choice between binding
an old one, or buying a new one, the familiar volume, which had been
hungrily read by all the members of the family, was sometimes in such a
condition that the bedroom shelf was considered its fitting place. Up
and down the house were to be found many standard works of a solid
kind. Sir Walter Scott's writings, Wadsworth's and Southey's poems
were among the lighter literature; while, as having a character of
their own--earnest, wild, and occasionally fanatical, may be named some
of the books which came from the Branwell side of the family--from the
Cornish followers of the saintly John Wesley--and which are touched on
in the account of the works to which Caroline Helstone had access in
"Shirley": "Some venerable Lady's Magazines, that had once performed a
voyage with their owner, and undergone a storm"--(possibly part of the
relics of Mrs. Brontë's possessions, contained in the ship wrecked on
the coast of Cornwall)--"and whose pages were stained with salt water;
some mad Methodist Magazines full of miracles and apparitions, and
preternatural warnings, ominous dreams, and frenzied fanaticism; and
the equally mad Letters of Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe from the Dead to the
Living."
Mr. Brontë encouraged a taste for reading in his girls; and though Miss
Branwell kept it in due bounds by the variety of household occupations,
in which she expected them not merely to take a part, but to become
proficients, thereby occupying regularly a good portion of every day,
they were allowed to get books from the circulating library at
Keighley; and many a happy walk up those long four miles must they have
had burdened with some new book into which they peeped as they hurried
home. Not that the books were what would generally be called new; in
the beginning of 1833 the two friends [Charlotte and "E.," a school
friend] seem almost simultaneously to have fallen upon "Kenilworth,"
and Charlotte writes as follows about it:
"I am glad you like 'Kenilworth'; it is certainly more resembling a
romance than a novel; in my opinion, one of the most interesting works
that ever emanated from the great Sir Walter's pen. Varney is
certainly the personification of consummate villainy; and in the
delineation of his dark and profoundly and artful mind, Scott exhibits
a wonderful knowledge of human nature, as well as surprising skill in
embodying his perceptions, so as to enable others to become
participators in that knowledge. . . ."
Meanwhile, "The Professor" had met with many refusals from different
publishers; some, I have reason to believe, not over-courteously worded
in writing to an unknown author, and none alleging any distinct reasons
for its rejection. Courtesy is always due; but it is, perhaps, hardly
to be expected that, in the press of business in a great publishing
house, they should find time to explain why they decline particular
works. Yet, though one course of action is not to be wondered at, the
opposite may fall upon a grieved and disappointed mind with all the
graciousness of dew; and I can well sympathize with the published
account which "Currer Bell" gives, of the feelings experienced on
reading Messrs. Smith and Elder's letter containing the rejection of
"The Professor."
"As a forlorn hope, we tried one publishing house more. Ere long, in a
much shorter space than that on which experience had taught him to
calculate, there came a letter, which he opened in the dreary
anticipation of finding two hard, hopeless lines, intimating that
'Messrs. Smith and Elder were not disposed to publish the MS.,' and,
instead, he took out the envelope a letter of two pages. He read it,
trembling. It declined, indeed, to publish that tale, for business
reasons, but it discussed its merits and demerits so courteously, so
considerately, in a spirit so rational, with a discrimination so
enlightened, that this very refusal cheered the author better than a
vulgarly expressed acceptance would have done. It was added, that a
work in three volumes would meet with careful attention."
Mr. Smith has told me a little circumstance connected with the
reception of this manuscript which seems to me indicative of no
ordinary character. It came (accompanied by the note given below) in a
brown paper parcel, to 65 Cornhill. Besides the address to Messrs.
Smith & Co., there were on it those of other publishers to whom the
tale had been sent, not obliterated, but simply scored through, so that
Messrs. Smith at once perceived the names of some of the houses in the
trade to which the unlucky parcel had gone, without success.
[_To Messrs. Smith and Elder_]
"JULY 15th, 1847.
"Gentlemen--I beg to submit to your consideration the accompanying
manuscript. I should be glad to learn whether it be such as you
approve, and would undertake to publish at as early a period as
possible. Address, Mr. Currer Bell, under cover to Miss Brontë,
Haworth, Bradford, Yorkshire."
Some time elapsed before an answer was returned. . . .
[_To Messrs. Smith and Elder_]
"AUGUST 2nd, 1847.
"Gentlemen--About three weeks since I sent for your consideration a MS.
entitled 'The Professor, a Tale by Currer Bell.' I should be glad to
know whether it reached your hands safely, and likewise to learn, at
your earliest convenience, whether it be such as you can undertake to
publish. I am, gentlemen, yours respectfully,
"CURRER BELL.
"I enclose a directed cover for your reply."
This time her note met with a prompt answer; for, four days later, she
writes (in reply to the letter she afterward characterized in the
Preface to the second edition of "Wuthering Heights," as containing a
refusal so delicate, reasonable, and courteous as to be more cheering
than some acceptances):
"Your objection to the want of varied interest in the tale is, I am
aware, not without grounds; yet it appears to me that it might be
published without serious risk, if its appearance were speedily
followed up by another work from the same pen, of a more striking and
exciting character. The first work might serve as an introduction, and
accustom the public to the author's name: the success of the second
might thereby be rendered more probable. I have a second narrative in
three volumes, now in progress, and nearly completed, to which I have
endeavoured to impart a more vivid interest than belongs to 'The
Professor.' In about a month I hope to finish it, so that if a
publisher were found for 'The Professor' the second narrative might
follow as soon as was deemed advisable; and thus the interest of the
public (if any interest was aroused) might not be suffered to cool.
Will you be kind enough to favour me with your judgment on this
plan?". . .
Mr. Brontë, too, had his suspicions of something going on; but, never
being spoken to, he did not speak on the subject, and consequently his
ideas were vague and uncertain, only just prophetic enough to keep him
from being actually stunned when, later on, he heard of the success of
"Jane Eyre"; to the progress of which we must now return.
[_To Messrs. Smith and Elder_]
"AUGUST 24th.
"I now send you per rail a MS. entitled 'Jane Eyre,' a novel in three
volumes, by Currer Bell. I find I cannot prepay the carriage of the
parcel, as money for that purpose is not received at the small
station-house where it is left. If, when you acknowledge the receipt
of the MS., you would have the goodness to mention the amount charged
on delivery, I will immediately transmit it in postage stamps. It is
better in future to address Mr. Currer Bell, under cover to Miss
Brontë, Haworth, Bradford, Yorkshire, as there is a risk of letters
otherwise directed not reaching me at present. To save trouble, I
enclose an envelope."
"Jane Eyre" was accepted, and printed and published by October
16th. . . .
When the manuscript of "Jane Eyre" had been received by the future
publishers of that remarkable novel, it fell to the share of a
gentleman connected with the firm to read it first. He was so
powerfully struck by the character of the tale that he reported his
impression in very strong terms to Mr. Smith, who appears to have been
much amused by the admiration excited. "You seem to have been so
enchanted that I do not know how to believe you," he laughingly said.
But when a second reader, in the person of a clear-headed Scotchman,
not given to enthusiasm, had taken the MS. home in the evening, and
became so deeply interested in it as to sit up half the night to finish
it, Mr. Smith's curiosity was sufficiently excited to prompt him to
read it for himself; and great as were the praises which had been
bestowed upon it, he found that they had not exceeded the truth.