Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes

by Bronte Sisters

  ‘C. Brontë.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘July 24th, 1845.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — A series of toothaches, prolonged and severe, bothering me both day and night, have kept me very stupid of late, and prevented me from writing to you. More than once I have sat down and opened my desk, but have not been able to get up to par. To-day, after a night of fierce pain, I am better — much better, and I take advantage of the interval of ease to discharge my debt. I wish I had £50 to spare at present, and that you, Emily, Anne, and I were all at liberty to leave home without our absence being detrimental to any body. How pleasant to set off en masse to the seaside, and stay there a few weeks, taking in a stock of health and strength. — We could all do with recreation. Adversity agrees with you, Ellen. Your good qualities are never so obvious as when under the pressure of affliction. Continued prosperity might develope too much a certain germ of ambition latent in your character. I saw this little germ putting out green shoots when I was staying with you at Hathersage. It was not then obtrusive, and perhaps might never become so. Your good sense, firm principle, and kind feeling might keep it down. Holding down my head does not suit my toothache. Give my love to your mother and sisters. Write again as soon as may be. — Yours faithfully,

  ‘C. B.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘August 18th, 1845.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — I am writing to you, not because I have anything to tell you, but because I want you to write to me. I am glad to see that you were pleased with your new sister. When I was at Hathersage you were talking of writing to Mary Taylor. I have lately written to her a brief, shabby epistle of which I am ashamed, but I found when I began to write I had really very little to say. I sent the letter to Hunsworth, and I suppose it will go sometime. You must write to me soon, a long letter. Remember me respectfully to Mr. and Mrs. Henry Nussey. Give my love to Miss R. — Yours,

  ‘C. B.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘December 14th, 1845.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — I was glad to get your last note, though it was so short and crusty. Three weeks had elapsed without my having heard a word from you, and I began to fear some new misfortune had occurred. I was relieved to find such was not the case. Anne is obliged by the kind regret you express at not being able to ask her to Brookroyd. She wishes you could come to Haworth. Do you scold me out of habit, or are you really angry? In either case it is all nonsense. You know as well as I do that to go to Brookroyd is always a pleasure to me, and that to one who has so little change, and so few friends as I have, it must be a great pleasure, but I am not at all times in the mood or circumstances to take my pleasure. I wish so much to see you, that I shall certainly sometime after New Year’s Day, if all be well, be going over to Birstall. Now I could not go if I would. If you think I stand upon ceremony in this matter, you miscalculate sadly. I have known you, and your mother and sisters, too long to be ceremonious with any of you. Invite me no more now, till I invite myself — be too proud to trouble yourself; and if, when at last I mention coming (for I shall give you warning), it does not happen to suit you, tell me so, with quiet hauteur. I should like a long letter next time. No more lovers’ quarrels.

  ‘Good-bye. Best love to your mother and sisters.

  ‘C. B.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘January 28th, 1847.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — Long may you look young and handsome enough to dress in white, dear, and long may you have a right to feel the consciousness that you look agreeable. I know you have too much judgment to let an overdose of vanity spoil the blessing and turn it into a misfortune. After all though, age will come on, and it is well you have something better than a nice face for friends to turn to when that is changed. I hope this excessively cold weather has not harmed you or yours much. It has nipped me severely, taken away my appetite for a while and given me toothache; in short, put me in the ailing condition, in which I have more than once had the honour of making myself such a nuisance both at Brookroyd and Hunsworth. The consequence is that at this present speaking I look almost old enough to be your mother — grey, sunk, and withered. To-day, however, it is milder, and I hope soon to feel better; indeed I am not ill now, and my toothache is now subsided, but I experience a loss of strength and a deficiency of spirit which would make me a sorry companion to you or any one else. I would not be on a visit now for a large sum of money.

  ‘Write soon. Give my best love to your mother and sisters. — Good-bye, dear Nell,

  ‘C. Brontë.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘April 21st, 1847.

  ‘Dear Nell, — I am very much obliged to you for your gift, which you must not undervalue, for I like the articles; they look extremely pretty and light. They are for wrist frills, are they not? Will you condescend to accept a yard of lace made up into nothing? I thought I would not offer to spoil it by stitching it into any shape. Your creative fingers will turn it to better account than my destructive ones. I hope, such as it is, they will not peck it out of the envelope at the Bradford Post-office, where they generally take the liberty of opening letters when they feel soft as if they contained articles. I had forgotten all about your birthday and mine, till your letter arrived to remind me of it. I wish you many happy returns of yours. Of course your visit to Haworth must be regulated by Miss Ringrose’s movements. I was rather amused at your fearing I should be jealous. I never thought of it. She and I could not be rivals in your affections. You allot her, I know, a different set of feelings to what you allot me. She is amiable and estimable, I am not amiable, but still we shall stick to the last I don’t doubt. In short, I should as soon think of being jealous of Emily and Anne in these days as of you. If Miss Ringrose does not come to Brookroyd about Whitsuntide, I should like you to come. I shall feel a good deal disappointed if the visit is put off — I would rather Miss Ringrose fixed her time in summer, and then I would come to see you (D.V.) in the autumn. I don’t think it will be at all a good plan to go back with you. We see each other so seldom, that I would far rather divide the visits. Remember me to all. — Yours faithfully,

  ‘C. Brontë.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘May 25th, 1847.

  ‘Dear Nell, — I have a small present for Mercy. You must fetch it, for I repeat you shall come to Haworth before I go to Brookroyd.

  ‘I do not say this from pique or anger — I am not angry now — but because my leaving home at present would from solid reasons be difficult to manage. If all be well I will visit you in the autumn, at present I cannot come. Be assured that if I could come I should, after your last letter, put scruples and pride away and “go over into Macedonia” at once. I never could manage to help you yet. You have always found me something like a new servant, who requires to be told where everything is, and shown how everything is to be done.

  ‘My sincere love to your mother and Mercy. — Yours,

  ‘C. Brontë.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘May 29th, 1847.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — Your letter and its contents were most welcome. You must direct your luggage to Mr. Brontë’s, and we will tell the carrier to inquire for it. The railroad has been opened some time, but it only comes as far as Keighley. If you arrive about 4 o’clock in the afternoon, Emily, Anne, and I will all meet you at the station. We can take tea jovially together at the Devonshire Arms, and walk home in the cool of the evening. This arrangement will be much better than fagging through four miles in the heat of noon. Write by return of post if you can, and say if this plan suits you. — Yours,

  ‘C. Brontë.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘November 10th, 1847.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — The old pang of fearing you should fancy I forget you drives me to write to you, though heaven knows I have precious little to say, and if it were not that I wish to hear from you, and hate to appear disregardful when I am not so, I might let another week or perhaps two slip away without writi
ng. There is much in Ruth’s letter that I thought very melancholy. Poor girls! theirs, I fear, must be a very unhappy home. Yours and mine, with all disadvantages, all absences of luxury and wealth and style, are, I doubt not, happier. I wish to goodness you were rich, that you might give her a temporary asylum, and a relief from uneasiness, suffering, and gloom. What you say about the effects of ether on your sister rather startled me. I had always consoled myself with the idea of having some teeth extracted some day under its soothing influence, but now I should think twice before I consented to inhale it; one would not like to make a fool of one’s self. — I am, yours faithfully,

  ‘C. Brontë.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘March 11th, 1848.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — There is a great deal of good-sense in your last letter. Be thankful that God gave you sense, for what are beauty, wealth, or even health without it? I had a note from Miss Ringrose the other day. I do not think I shall write again, for the reasons I before mentioned to you; but the note moved me much, it was almost all about her dear Ellen, a kind of gentle enthusiasm of affection, enough to make one smile and weep — her feelings are half truth, half illusion. No human being could be altogether what she supposes you to be, yet your kindness must have been very great. If one were only rich, how delightful it would be to travel and spend the winter in climates where there are no winters. Give my love to your mother and sisters. — Believe me, faithfully yours,

  ‘C. Brontë.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘April 22nd, 1848.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — I have just received your little parcel, and beg to thank you in all our names for its contents, and also for your letter, of the arrival of which I was, to speak truth, getting rather impatient.

  ‘The housewife’s travelling companion is a most commodious thing — just the sort of article which suits one to a T, and which yet I should never have the courage or industry to sit down and make for myself. I shall keep it for occasions of going from home, it will save me a world of trouble. It must have required some thought to arrange the various compartments and their contents so aptly. I had quite forgotten till your letter reminded me that it was the anniversary of your birthday and mine. I am now thirty-two. Youth is gone — gone — and will never come back; can’t help it. I wish you many returns of your birthday and increase of happiness with increase of years. It seems to me that sorrow must come sometime to every body, and those who scarcely taste it in their youth often have a more brimming and bitter cup to drain in after-life; whereas, those who exhaust the dregs early, who drink the lees before the wine, may reasonably expect a purer and more palatable draught to succeed. So, at least, one fain would hope. It touched me at first a little painfully to hear of your purposed governessing, but on second thoughts I discovered this to be quite a foolish feeling. You are doing right even though you should not gain much. The effort will do you good; no one ever does regret a step towards self-help; it is so much gained in independence.

  ‘Give my love to your mother and sisters. — Yours faithfully,

  ‘C. Brontë.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘May 24th, 1848.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — I shall begin by telling you that you have no right to be angry at the length of time I have suffered to slip by since receiving your last, without answering it, because you have often kept me waiting much longer; and having made this gracious speech, thereby obviating reproaches, I will add that I think it a great shame when you receive a long and thoroughly interesting letter, full of the sort of details you fully relish, to read the same with selfish pleasure and not even have the manners to thank your correspondent, and express how much you enjoyed the narrative. I did enjoy the narrative in your last very keenly; the exquisitely characteristic traits concerning the Bakers were worth gold; just like not only them but all their class — respectable, well-meaning people enough, but with all that petty assumption of dignity, that small jealousy of senseless formalities, which to such people seems to form a second religion. Your position amongst them was detestable. I admire the philosophy with which you bore it. Their taking offence because you stayed all night at their aunt’s is rich. It is right not to think much of casual attentions; it is quite justifiable also to derive from them temporary gratification, insomuch as they prove that their object has the power of pleasing. Let them be as ephemera — to last an hour, and not be regretted when gone.

  ‘Write to me again soon and — Believe me, yours faithfully,

  ‘C. Brontë.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘August 3, 1849.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — I have received the furs safely. I like the sables very much, and shall keep them; and ‘to save them’ shall keep the squirrel, as you prudently suggested. I hope it is not too much like the steel poker to save the brass one. I return Mary’s letter. It is another page from the volume of life, and at the bottom is written “Finis” — mournful word. Macaulay’s History was only lent to myself — all the books I have from London I accept only as a loan, except in peculiar cases, where it is the author’s wish I should possess his work.

  ‘Do you think in a few weeks it will be possible for you to come to see me? I am only waiting to get my labour off my hands to permit myself the pleasure of asking you. At our house you can read as much as you please.

  ‘I have been much better, very free from oppression or irritation of the chest, during the last fortnight or ten days. Love to all. — Good-bye, dear Nell.

  ‘C. B.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘August 23rd, 1849.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — Papa has not been well at all lately — he has had another attack of bronchitis. I felt very uneasy about him for some days, more wretched indeed than I care to tell you. After what has happened, one trembles at any appearance of sickness, and when anything ails papa I feel too keenly that he is the last, the only near and dear relation I have in the world. Yesterday and to-day he has seemed much better, for which I am truly thankful.

  ‘For myself, I should be pretty well but for a continually recurring feeling of slight cold, slight soreness in the throat and chest, of which, do what I will, I cannot quite get rid. Has your cough entirely left you? I wish the atmosphere would return to a salubrious condition, for I really think it is not healthy. English cholera has been very prevalent here.

  ‘I do wish to see you.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘August 16, 1850.

  ‘Dear Nell, — I am going on Monday (D.V.) a journey, whereof the prospect cheers me not at all, to Windermere, in Westmoreland, to spend a few days with Sir J. K. S., who has taken a house there for the autumn and winter. I consented to go with reluctance, chiefly to please papa, whom a refusal on my part would have much annoyed; but I dislike to leave him. I trust he is not worse, but his complaint is still weakness. It is not right to anticipate evil, and to be always looking forward in an apprehensive spirit; but I think grief is a two-edged sword — it cuts both ways: the memory of one loss is the anticipation of another. Take moderate exercise and be careful, dear Nell, and — Believe me, yours sincerely,

  ‘C. Brontë.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘May 10th, 1851.

  ‘DEAR NELL, — Poor little Flossy! I have not yet screwed up nerve to tell papa about her fate, it seems to me so piteous. However, she had a happy life with a kind mistress, whatever her death has been. Little hapless plague! She had more goodness and patience shown her than she deserved, I fear.

  ‘C. Brontë.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘Haworth, July 26th, 1852.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — I should not have written to you to-day by choice. Lately I have again been harassed with headache — the heavy electric atmosphere oppresses me much, yet I am less miserable just now than I was a little while ago. A severe shock came upon me about papa. He was suddenly attacked with acute inflammation of the eye. Mr. Ruddock was sent for; and after he had examine
d him, he called me into another room, and said papa’s pulse was bounding at 150 per minute, that there was a strong pressure of blood upon the brain, that, in short, the symptoms were decidedly apoplectic.

  ‘Active measures were immediately taken. By the next day the pulse was reduced to ninety. Thank God he is now better, though not well. The eye is a good deal inflamed. He does not know his state. To tell him he had been in danger of apoplexy would almost be to kill him at once — it would increase the rush to the brain and perhaps bring about rupture. He is kept very quiet.

  ‘Dear Nell, you will excuse a short note. Write again soon. Tell me all concerning yourself that can relieve you. — Yours faithfully,

  ‘C. B.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘August 3rd, 1852.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — I write a line to say that papa is now considered out of danger. His progress to health is not without relapse, but I think he gains ground, if slowly, surely. Mr. Ruddock says the seizure was quite of an apoplectic character; there was a partial paralysis for two days, but the mind remained clear, in spite of a high degree of nervous irritation. One eye still remains inflamed, and papa is weak, but all muscular affection is gone, and the pulse is accurate. One cannot be too thankful that papa’s sight is yet spared — it was the fear of losing that which chiefly distressed him.

  ‘With best wishes for yourself, dear Ellen, — I am, yours faithfully,

  ‘C. Brontë.

  ‘My headaches are better. I have needed no help, but I thank you sincerely for your kind offers.’

  TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

  ‘Haworth, August 12th, 1852.

  ‘Dear Ellen, — Papa has varied occasionally since I wrote to you last. Monday was a very bad day, his spirits sunk painfully. Tuesday and yesterday, however, were much better, and to-day he seems wonderfully well. The prostration of spirits which accompanies anything like a relapse is almost the most difficult point to manage. Dear Nell, you are tenderly kind in offering your society; but rest very tranquil where you are; be fully assured that it is not now, nor under present circumstances, that I feel the lack either of society or occupation; my time is pretty well filled up, and my thoughts appropriated.