Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes

by Bronte Sisters

  ‘Mr. Sydney, Marquis of Douro, come hither a moment.’

  Both the gentlemen obeyed the summons, Arthur with alacrity, Sydney with reluctance.

  ‘What are your commands, fair ladies?’ said the former, bowing respectfully to the inmates of the carriage, who were Lady Julia Sydney and Lady Maria Sneaky.

  ‘Our commands are principally for your companion, my lord, not for you,’ replied the daughter of Alexander the First; ‘now, Mr. Sydney,’ she continued, smiling on the senator, ‘you must promise not to be disobedient.’

  ‘Let me first know what I am required to perform,’ was the cautious answer, accompanied by a fearful glance at the shops around.

  ‘Nothing of much consequence, Edward,’ said his wife, ‘but I hope you’ll not refuse to oblige me this once, love. I only want a few guineas to make out the price of a pair of earrings I have just seen in Mr. Lapis’s shop.’

  ‘Not a bit of it,’ answered he. ‘Not a farthing will I give you: it is scarce three weeks since you received your quarter’s allowance, and if that is done already you may suffer for it.’

  With this decisive reply, he instinctively thrust his hands into his breeches’ pockets, and marched off with a hurried step.

  ‘Stingy little monkey!’ exclaimed Lady Julia, sinking back on the carriage-seat, while the bright flush of anger and disappointment crimsoned her fair cheek. ‘This is the way he always treats me, but I’ll make him suffer for it!’

  ‘Do not discompose yourself so much, my dear,’ said her companion, ‘my purse is at your service, if you will accept it.’

  ‘I am sensible of your goodness, Maria, but of course I shall not take advantage of it; no, no, I can do without the earrings — it is only a fancy, though to be sure I would rather have them.’

  ‘My pretty cousin,’ observed the marquis, who, till now, had remained a quiet though much-amused spectator of the whole scene, ‘you are certainly one of the most extravagant young ladies I know: why, what on earth can you possibly want with these trinkets? To my knowledge you have at least a dozen different sorts of ear-ornaments.’

  ‘That is true; but then these are quite of another kind; they are so pretty and unique that I could not help wishing for them.’

  ‘Well, since your heart is so much set upon the baubles, I will see whether my purse can compass their price, if you will allow me to accompany you to Mr. Lapis’s.’

  ‘Oh! thank you, Arthur, you are very kind,’ said Lady Julia, and both the ladies quickly made room for him as he sprang in and seated himself between them.

  * * *

  In a few minutes they reached the jeweller’s shop. Mr. Lapis received them with an obsequious bow, and proceeded to display his glittering stores. The pendants which had so fascinated Lady Julia were in the form of two brilliant little humming-birds, whose jewelled plumage equalled if not surpassed the bright hues of nature….

  This gay and pleasant fragment of a story, in which the characters and scenes are so freshly drawn, may well be imagined as one of the best, if not the best, of these productions of the Brontë children. We may, indeed, regard the spirit and style of these early stories as the outcome of their eager and observant reading of the magazine and newspaper articles within their reach — when their plastic minds would receive indelible impressions, from which they, perhaps without knowing it, acquired the knowledge and practice of accurate literary composition, and of how to clothe their thoughts in fitting words. Their retentive memories, and their intuitive faculty of putting things, brought them thus early to the threshold of the republic of letters. Mrs. Gaskell states that these works were principally written by Charlotte in a hand so small as to be ‘almost impossible to decipher without the aid of a magnifying glass.’ The specimen she gives is written in an upright hand, and was an attempt to represent the stories in a kind of print, as near as might be to type. If, however, Charlotte and Emily ever accustomed themselves in these early works to this diminutive type-like writing, they threw it off completely in after-years. This, Branwell never did, and Mrs. Gaskell’s fac-simile page is not without some resemblance to one of his ordinary pages of manuscript reduced in size.

  Mr. T. Wemyss Reid observes that Mrs. Gaskell, in speaking of the juvenile performances of the Brontë children, ‘paid exclusive attention to Charlotte’s productions.’ ‘All readers of the Brontë story,’ he says, ‘will remember the account of the play of “The Islanders,” and other remarkable specimens, showing with what real vigour and originality Charlotte could handle her pen while she was still in the first years of her teens.’ And he adds that ‘those few persons who have seen the whole of the juvenile library of the family bear testimony to the fact that Branwell and Emily were at least as industrious and successful as Charlotte herself.’

  Even at this early period the youthful Brontës had read industriously. ‘Blackwood’s Magazine’ had, as early as the year 1829, asserted itself to Charlotte’s childish taste as ‘the most able periodical there is,’ and ever afterwards the whole family looked with the greatest pleasure for the brilliant essays of Christopher North and his coterie. Of other papers they saw ‘John Bull’ and the ‘Leeds Intelligencer,’ both uncompromising Conservatives, and the ‘Leeds Mercury,’ of the opposite party. The youthful Brontës were also readers of the ‘British Essayists,’ ‘The Rambler,’ ‘The Mirror,’ and ‘The Lounger,’ and they were great admirers of Scott.

  But the advice which Charlotte afterwards gave to her friend ‘E,’ with regard to books for perusal, shows that their reading had been much wider: Shakespeare, Milton, Thomson, Goldsmith, Pope, Byron, Campbell, and Wordsworth; Hume, Rollin, and the ‘Universal History;’ Johnson’s ‘Poets,’ Boswell’s ‘Johnson,’ Southey’s ‘Nelson,’ Lockhart’s ‘Burns,’ Moore’s ‘Sheridan,’ Moore’s ‘Byron,’ and Wolfe’s ‘Remains;’ and for natural history, she recommends Bewick, Audubon, White, and, strangely enough, Goldsmith. Branwell’s favourite poets were Wordsworth and the melancholy Cowper, whose ‘Castaway’ he was always fond of quoting. The Brontës, in their young years, obtained much of their intellectual food from the circulating library at Keighley.

  The extraordinary literary activity which prompted these children never afterwards left them; and Branwell, along with his sisters, was, as we have seen, the author of many effusions of remarkable character. But, as time passed on, and experience was gained, his literary productions began to acquire more vigour and polish. Yet the tone of his mind, however joyous it might be at times, recurred, when the immediate occasion had passed, to that pensive melancholy which, throughout his life, was his most marked characteristic.

  Mr. Brontë looked with supreme pleasure on the growing talents of his children; but his principal hope was centred in his son, who, as he fondly trusted, should add lustre to and perpetuate his name. The boy, in these years, was precocious and lively, overflowing with humour and jollity, ready to crack a joke with the rustics he met, and all the time gathering in, with the quickest perception, impressions, both for good and ill, of human nature. Mr. Brontë sedulously, to the utmost of his power, attending to the education of Branwell, did not see the instability of his son’s character, or did not apprehend any mischief from the acquaintances he had formed.

  The incumbent of Haworth had distinct literary leanings, and it delighted him to find that his son had manifested literary capacity. It has been urged as somewhat of a reproach against Mr. Brontë that he did not send Branwell to a public school, but relied solely upon his own tutorship for his son’s education. Situated as Mr. Brontë was, such a step as that said to have been recommended to him was unnecessary. The Grammar School adjoining was under the superintendance of a master who was well qualified to give a higher education to his pupils, if required; and Mr. Brontë himself was equally well able to do the same, but his daily duties within his chapelry left him little or no time to take upon himself the entire education of his son: all he could do was to watch and ascertain occasionally how he was progressing. Mr. Bron
të, indeed, might have given the finishing touches to his son’s instruction. Those, however, who knew the brilliant youth in the ripeness of his early manhood, recognized the extent of the knowledge he had acquired, and felt, too, that he had been sufficiently well-trained to know how to put it to good use.

  CHAPTER VII.

  YOUTH.

  Charlotte goes to Roe Head — Return Home — Branwell at the Time — The Companion of his Sisters — Escorts Charlotte on a Visit — He becomes Interested in Pugilism — His Education — His Love for Music — His Retentive Memory — His Personal Appearance — His Spirit.

  Little more of interest seems to be known concerning the Brontës prior to the year 1831, but it is very apparent that Mr. Brontë exercised a large influence in the formation of his children’s habits and characters. He, for instance, had a study in which he spent a considerable portion of his time. The children had their study also. Mr. Brontë had written poems and tales, and was wont to tell strange stories at the breakfast-table. The children imitated him in these things. Mr. Brontë took an enthusiastic interest in all political matters; and here the children followed him also. In short, they copied him in almost everything. Afterwards, he was accustomed to hold himself up as an example for their guidance, and to tell them how he had struggled and worked his way to the position he held; and there is no doubt that his children had a great admiration for his career.

  Miss Branwell’s influence was altogether distinct from that of Mr. Brontë. While taking pride in the mental ability of her nephew, she aimed at making his sisters into good housewives and patterns of domestic and unobtrusive virtue. With this object, turning her bed-chamber into a school-room, she taught them to sew and to embroider; and they occupied their time in making charity clothing, a work which she maintained ‘was not for the good of the recipients, but of the sewers; it was proper for them to do it.’ Under Miss Branwell they likewise learned to clean, to wash, to bake, to cook, to make jams and jellies, with many other domestic mysteries; and here, as in everything else, they were apt pupils.

  But, towards the end of the year 1830, it was decided that Charlotte should seek a wider training elsewhere; and a school, kept by Miss Wooler, at Roe Head, between Leeds and Huddersfield, was fixed upon. It was a quaint, old-fashioned house, standing in a pleasant country, which had an interest for Charlotte, for it lay not far from Hartshead, where her father’s first Yorkshire curacy had been. This circumstance, together with the proximity of the remains of Kirklees priory — which had their traditions of Robin Hood — and the strange local stories she heard from Miss Wooler, led her afterwards to make this district the scene of her novel of ‘Shirley.’ Miss Wooler was a kind, motherly lady who took an interest in each one of her pupils. She had long been a keen observer, and knew well how to put her knowledge to use in tuition. In this school, Charlotte, a girl of sixteen, was an indefatigable student, scarcely resting in her pursuit of knowledge. She was not exactly sociable, and sat often alone with her book in play-hours — a thin fragile girl, whose brown hair overshadowed the page on which her eyes, ‘those expressive orbs,’ were so intently fixed. Her companions remarked at that time that she had a great store of out-of-the-way knowledge, while on some points of general information she was comparatively ignorant. But when Charlotte left Roe Head, in June, 1832, she returned to the parsonage at Haworth with more expanded ideas, and with wider knowledge, and possessing, perhaps, a keener relish for the delights of the literary world. At Roe Head Charlotte made the acquaintance of her life-long friend ‘E,’ and also of Mary and Martha ‘T.’

  The family of Brontë appears, about this time, to have been in perfect peace. Charlotte had corresponded with Branwell when she was at Roe Head, as a pupil of Miss Wooler; and Mrs. Gaskell has published portions of a letter sent from that place to him on May 17th, 1832, when he was in his fifteenth year, in which she showed her old political leanings wherein Branwell shared. It runs: ‘Lately I had begun to think that I had lost all interest which I used formerly to take in politics; but the extreme pleasure I felt at the news of the Reform Bill’s being thrown out by the House of Lords, and of the expulsion, or resignation, of Earl Grey, &c., convinced me that I have not as yet lost all my penchant for politics. I am extremely glad that aunt has consented to take in “Fraser’s Magazine;” for though I know from your description of its general contents it will be rather uninteresting when compared with “Blackwood,” still it will be better than remaining the whole year without being able to obtain a sight of any periodical whatever; and such would assuredly be the case, as, in the little wild moorland village where we reside, there would be no possibility of borrowing a work of this description from a circulating library. I hope with you that the present delightful weather may contribute to the perfect restoration of our dear papa’s health; and that it may give aunt pleasant reminiscences of the salubrious climate of her native place.’

  Charlotte’s political principles were strongly Conservative, as were those of her father, brother, and sisters, and these principles were intensified in them all by their religious opinions. They held, consistently enough, the cherished political convictions of their party, and they looked upon every concession made to liberal clamour as an inroad on the very vitals of the Constitution. Hence the jubilation of Charlotte when the Reform Bill was rejected by the House of Lords on October 7th, 1831. But the march of events, in after-years, modified their political opinions considerably.

  Branwell at this period, while still under tuition at home, was the constant companion of his sisters, and frequently accompanied them on their visits to the moors and picturesque places in the neighbourhood. ‘E,’ writing in ‘Scribner,’ says: ‘Charlotte’s first visit from Haworth was made about three months after she left school. She travelled in a two-wheeled gig, the only conveyance to be had in Haworth except the covered-cart which brought her to school. Mr. Brontë sent Branwell as an escort; he was then a very dear brother, as dear to Charlotte as her own soul; they were in perfect accord of taste and feeling, and it was a mutual delight to be together. Branwell had probably never been from home before; he was in wild ecstacy with everything. He walked about in unrestrained boyish enjoyment, taking views in every direction of the turret-roofed house, the fine chestnut-trees on the lawn (one tree especially interested him because it was iron-girthed, having been split by storms, but still flourishing in great majesty), and a large rookery, which gave to the house a good background — all these he noted and commented upon with perfect enthusiasm. He told his sister he was leaving her in Paradise, and if she were not intensely happy she never would be! Happy, indeed, she then was in himself, for she, with her own enthusiasm, looked forward to what her brother’s great promise and talent might effect. He would be, at this time, between fifteen and sixteen years of age.

  In the June of 1833, when Branwell was about this age, we learn that he drove his sisters with great delight in a trap, or dog-cart, to Bolton Bridge, to meet their friend ‘E,’ who waited for the young Brontës in a carriage at the ‘Devonshire Arms.’ This was a visit to the ancient abbey and immemorial woods and vales of Bolton. We may well imagine from the time of the year — the ‘leafy month of June,’ when all nature would be glad, and the deep woods gay with varied leaves, while the Wharfe, of amber hue, foamed and rushed impetuously down its rocky channel, from the moorland hills above historic Barden, to the peaceful meads of the ruined abbey — that the hearts of the Brontës rejoiced, enchanted and impressed by these glorious and stately solitudes.

  It cannot but be regretted that, while his sisters could confer in confidence and familiarity together, and enjoy a community of interests in secrecy and affection, Branwell had no brother whose sympathetic counsel he could embrace; but, thrown back upon himself, was led to seek the society of appreciative friends, who made him acquainted with the manners and customs of the world, and the vices of society, before his time had yet come to know much concerning them. It was, indeed, unfortunately, no infrequent circumstance
to see the plastic, light-hearted, unsuspecting Branwell listening to the coarse jokes of the sexton of Haworth — the noted John Brown — while that functionary was employed in digging the graves so often opened in the churchyard, under the shadow of the parsonage.

  It was the kind of society in which he sought relaxation at Haworth that led him to take an interest, which he long retained, in the pugilistic ring. The interest in pugilism and the ‘noble art,’ it must, however, be remembered, had been made fashionable by wealthy, influential, and titled people, amongst whom was Lord Byron, and by the fops and dandies of an earlier period. Jackson, the noted professor, was a great friend of the poet, and, on several occasions, visited him at Newstead. Early in this century, too, many men about town were accustomed to assemble for practice at the academy of Angelo and Jackson. Branwell, also, read with eagerness the columns of ‘Bell’s Life in London,’ and other sporting papers of the day. The names and personal appearance of the celebrated pugilists who, at that time, to the delight of the élite of society, pounded each other till they were unlike anything human — for the applause of the multitude, and the honour of wearing the ‘Champion’s Belt,’ — were familiar to him. ‘Bell’s Life’ was taken in by an innkeeper at Haworth; and the members of the village boxing-club, one of whom was Branwell, were posted up in all public matters relating to the ‘noble art of self-defence.’ They had sundry boxing-gloves, and, at intervals, amused themselves with sparring in an upper room of a building at Haworth. These practices, at the time of which we speak, were but boyish amusements, and were no doubt congenial to the animal spirits and energetic temperaments of those who entered into them, and they were so more especially to Branwell, who had abundance of both. But it may be that here he became acquainted with young men whose habits and conduct had a deleterious influence upon him at the very opening of his career. If, however, Branwell’s high spirit allowed him sometimes to be led away by his companions, his natural goodness of heart brought a ready and vehement repentance. The respect he felt for his father’s calling, magnified, in his eyes, any fault of his own — who ought to have been more than ordinarily good — and, exaggerating his failings, he would lament his ‘dreadful conduct’ in deep distress. Such unmistakable evidences of sincerity and truthfulness procured him a ready pardon. He was necessarily his aunt’s favourite; but he attached himself to all about him with so much readiness of affection that it is quite evident, whatever his youthful faults, they were of a superficial character only.