Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Charlotte, Emily, Anne Brontë (Illustrated) (582 page)

‘
February
1
st
, 1849.

‘My dear Sir, — Anne seems so tranquil this morning, so free from pain and fever, and looks and speaks so like herself in health, that I too feel relieved, and I take advantage of the respite to write to you, hoping that my letter may reflect something of the comparative peace I feel.

‘Whether my hopes are quite fallacious or not, I do not know; but sometimes I fancy that the remedies prescribed by Mr. Teale, and approved — as I was glad to learn — by Dr. Forbes, are working a good result.  Consumption, I am aware, is a flattering malady, but certainly Anne’s illness has of late assumed a less alarming character than it had in the beginning: the hectic is allayed; the cough gives a more frequent reprieve.  Could I but believe she would live two years — a year longer, I should be thankful: I dreaded the terrors of the swift messenger which snatched Emily from us, as it seemed, in a few days.

‘The parcel came yesterday.  You and Mr. Smith do nothing by halves.  Neither of you care for being thanked, so I will keep my gratitude in my own mind.  The choice of books is perfect.  Papa is at this moment reading Macaulay’s
History
, which he had wished to see.  Anne is engaged with one of Frederika Bremer’s tales.

‘I wish I could send a parcel in return; I had hoped to have had one by this time ready to despatch.  When I saw you and Mr. Smith in London, I little thought of all that was to come between July and Spring: how my thoughts were to be caught away from imagination, enlisted and absorbed in realities the most cruel.

‘I will tell you what I want to do; it is to show you the first
 
volume of my MS., which I have copied.  In reading Mary Barton (a clever though painful tale) I was a little dismayed to find myself in some measure anticipated both in subject and incident.  I should like to have your opinion on this point, and to know whether the resemblance appears as considerable to a stranger as it does to myself.  I should wish also to have the benefit of such general strictures and advice as you choose to give.  Shall I therefore send the MS. when I return the first batch of books?

‘But remember, if I show it to you it is on two conditions: the first, that you give me a faithful opinion — I do not promise to be swayed by it, but I should like to have it; the second, that you show it and speak of it to
none
but Mr. Smith.  I have always a great horror of premature announcements — they may do harm and can never do good.  Mr. Smith must be so kind as not to mention it yet in his quarterly circulars.  All human affairs are so uncertain, and my position especially is at present so peculiar, that I cannot count on the time, and would rather that no allusion should be made to a work of which great part is yet to create.

‘There are two volumes in the first parcel which, having seen, I cannot bring myself to part with, and must beg Mr. Smith’s permission to retain: Mr. Thackeray’s
Journey from Cornhill
,
etc
. and
The testimony to the Truth
.  That last is indeed a book after my own heart.  I
do
like the mind it discloses — it is of a fine and high order.  Alexander Harris may be a clown by birth, but he is a nobleman by nature.  When I could read no other book, I read his and derived comfort from it.  No matter whether or not I can agree in all his views, it is the principles, the feelings, the heart of the man I admire.

‘Write soon and tell me whether you think it advisable that I should send the MS. — Yours sincerely,

‘C. Brontë.’

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

‘Haworth,
February
4
th
, 1849.

‘My dear Sir, — I send the parcel up without delay, according to your request.  The manuscript has all its errors upon it, not
 
having been read through since copying.  I have kept
Madeline
, along with the two other books I mentioned; I shall consider it the gift of Miss Kavanagh, and shall value it both for its literary excellence and for the modest merit of the giver.  We already possess Tennyson’s
Poems
and
Our Street
.  Emerson’s
Essays
I read with much interest, and often with admiration, but they are of mixed gold and clay — deep and invigorating truth, dreary and depressing fallacy seem to me combined therein.  In George Borrow’s works I found a wild fascination, a vivid graphic power of description, a fresh originality, an athletic simplicity (so to speak), which give them a stamp of their own.  After reading his
Bible in Spain
I felt as if I had actually travelled at his side, and seen the “wild Sil” rush from its mountain cradle; wandered in the hilly wilderness of the Sierras; encountered and conversed with Manehegan, Castillian, Andalusian, Arragonese, and, above all, with the savage Gitanos.

‘Your mention of Mr. Taylor suggests to me that possibly you and Mr. Smith might wish him to share the little secret of the MS. — that exclusion might seem invidious, that it might make your mutual evening chat less pleasant.  If so, admit him to the confidence by all means.  He is attached to the firm, and will no doubt keep its secrets.  I shall be glad of another censor, and if a severe one, so much the better, provided he is also just.  I court the keenest criticism.  Far rather would I never publish more, than publish anything inferior to my first effort.  Be honest, therefore, all three of you.  If you think this book promises less favourably than
Jane Eyre
, say so; it is but trying again,
i.e.
, if life and health be spared.

‘Anne continues a little better — the mild weather suits her.  At times I hear the renewal of hope’s whisper, but I dare not listen too fondly; she deceived me cruelly before.  A sudden change to cold would be the test.  I dread such change, but must not anticipate.  Spring lies before us, and then summer — surely we may hope a little!

‘Anne expresses a wish to see the notices of the poems. You had better, therefore, send them.  We shall expect to find painful allusions to one now above blame and beyond praise; but these
 
must be borne.  For ourselves, we are almost indifferent to censure.  I read the
Quarterly
without a pang, except that I thought there were some sentences disgraceful to the critic.  He seems anxious to let it be understood that he is a person well acquainted with the habits of the upper classes.  Be this as it may, I am afraid he is no gentleman; and moreover, that no training could make him such.
 
  Many a poor man, born and bred to labour, would disdain that reviewer’s cast of feeling. — Yours sincerely,

‘C. Brontë.’

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

‘
March
2
nd
, 1849.

‘My dear Sir, — My sister still continues better: she has less languor and weakness; her spirits are improved.  This change gives cause, I think, both for gratitude and hope.

‘I am glad that you and Mr. Smith like the commencement of my present work.  I wish it were
more than a commencement
; for how it will be reunited after the long break, or how it can gather force of flow when the current has been checked or rather drawn off so long, I know not.

‘I sincerely thank you both for the candid expression of your objections.  What you say with reference to the first chapter shall be duly weighed.  At present I feel reluctant to withdraw it, because, as I formerly said of the Lowood part of
Jane Eyre
,
it is true
.  The curates and their ongoings are merely photographed from the life.  I should like you to explain to me more fully the ground of your objections.  Is it because you think this chapter will render the work liable to severe handling by the press?  Is it because knowing as you now do the identity of “Currer Bell,” this scene strikes you as unfeminine?  Is it because it is intrinsically defective and inferior?  I am afraid the two first reasons would not weigh with me — the last would.

‘Anne and I thought it very kind in you to preserve all the notices of the Poems so carefully for us.  Some of them, as you said, were well worth reading.  We were glad to find that our old
 
friend the
Critic
has again a kind word for us.  I was struck with one curious fact, viz., that four of the notices are fac-similes of each other.  How does this happen?  I suppose they copy.’

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

‘
March
8
th
, 1849.

‘Dear Ellen, — Anne’s state has apparently varied very little during the last fortnight or three weeks.  I wish I could say she gains either flesh, strength, or appetite; but there is no progress on these points, nor I hope, as far as regards the two last at least, any falling off; she is piteously thin.  Her cough, and the pain in her side continue the same.

‘I write these few lines that you may not think my continued silence strange; anything like frequent correspondence I cannot keep up, and you must excuse me.  I trust you and all at Brookroyd are happy and well.  Give my love to your mother and all the rest, and — Believe me, yours sincerely,

‘C. Brontë.’

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

‘
March
11
th
, 1849.

‘My dear Sir, — My sister has been something worse since I wrote last.  We have had nearly a week of frost, and the change has tried her, as I feared it would do, though not so severely as former experience had led me to apprehend.  I am thankful to say she is now again a little better.  Her state of mind is usually placid, and her chief sufferings consist in the harassing cough and a sense of languor.

‘I ought to have acknowledged the safe arrival of the parcel before now, but I put it off from day to day, fearing I should write a sorrowful letter.  A similar apprehension induces me to abridge this note.

‘Believe me, whether in happiness or the contrary, yours sincerely,

‘C. Brontë.’

TO MISS LÆTITIA WHEELWRIGHT

‘Haworth,
March
15
th
, 1849.

‘Dear Lætitia, — I have not quite forgotten you through the
 
winter, but I have remembered you only like some pleasant waking idea struggling through a dreadful dream.  You say my last letter was dated September 14th.  You ask how I have passed the time since.  What has happened to me?  Why have I been silent?

‘It is soon told.

‘On the 24th of September my only brother, after being long in weak health, and latterly consumptive — though we were far from apprehending immediate danger — died, quite suddenly as it seemed to us.  He had been out two days before.  The shock was great.  Ere he could be interred I fell ill.  A low nervous fever left me very weak.  As I was slowly recovering, my sister Emily, whom you knew, was seized with inflammation of the lungs; suppuration took place; two agonising months of hopes and fears followed, and on the 19th of December
she died
.

‘She was scarcely cold in her grave when Anne, my youngest and last sister, who has been delicate all her life, exhibited symptoms that struck us with acute alarm.  We sent for the first advice that could be procured.  She was examined with the stethoscope, and the dreadful fact was announced that her lungs too were affected, and that tubercular consumption had already made considerable progress.  A system of treatment was prescribed, which has since been ratified by the opinion of Dr. Forbes, whom your papa will, I dare say, know.  I hope it has somewhat delayed disease.  She is now a patient invalid, and I am her nurse.  God has hitherto supported me in some sort through all these bitter calamities, and my father, I am thankful to say, has been wonderfully sustained; but there have been hours, days, weeks of inexpressible anguish to undergo, and the cloud of impending distress still lowers dark and sullen above us.  I cannot write much.  I can only pray Providence to preserve you and yours from such affliction as He has seen good to accumulate on me and mine.

‘With best regards to your dear mamma and all your circle, — Believe me, yours faithfully,

‘C. Brontë.’

 
TO MISS WOOLER

‘Haworth,
March
24
th
, 1849.

‘My dear Miss Wooler, — I have delayed answering your letter in the faint hope that I might be able to reply favourably to your inquiries after my sister’s health.  This, however, is not permitted me to do.  Her decline is gradual and fluctuating, but its nature is not doubtful.  The symptoms of cough, pain in the side and chest, wasting of flesh, strength, and appetite, after the sad experience we have had, cannot but be regarded by us as equivocal.