Part 8 (2/2)
When, having heard with surprise and emotion, the story of Mr.
Nicholls's attachment, Charlotte communicated his offer to her father, ”agitation and anger disproportionate to the occasion ensued. My blood boiled with a sense of injustice. But Papa worked himself into a state not to be trifled with. The veins on his forehead started up like whipcord, and his eyes became suddenly bloodshot. I made haste to promise that on the morrow Mr. Nicholls should have a distinct refusal.” It so happened that very soon after this, that is to say when ”Villette” was published, Miss Martineau caused deep pain to its writer by condemning the manner in which ”all the female characters in all their thoughts and lives” were represented as ”being full of one thing--love.” The critic not unjustly pointed out that love was not the be-all and the end-all of a woman's life. Perhaps her pen would not have been so sharp in touching on this subject, had she known with what quiet self-sacrifice the author of ”Villette” had but a few weeks before set aside her own preferences and inclinations, and submitted her lot to her father's angry will. This truly must be reckoned as another ill.u.s.tration of the extent to which the _Quarterly_ reviewer of 1848 had formed an accurate conception of the character of ”Currer Bell.”
Not only was the struggle which followed sharp and painful, it was also stubborn and prolonged. Mr. Nicholls resigned the curacy he had held so many years, and prepared to leave Haworth. Mr. Bronte not only showed no signs of relenting, but openly exulted in his departure, and lost no opportunity of expressing in bitterly sarcastic language his opinion of his colleague's conduct. How deeply Charlotte suffered at this time is proved by the letters before me. Firmly convinced that her first duty was to the parent whose only remaining stay she was, she never wavered in her determination to sacrifice every wish of her own to his comfort. But her heart was racked with pity for the man who was suffering through his love for her, and her indignation was roused to fever-heat by the gross injustice of her father's conduct.
Compa.s.sion or relenting is no more to be looked for from Papa than sap from firewood. I never saw a battle more sternly fought with the feelings than Mr. N. fights with his, and when he yields momentarily, you are almost sickened by the sense of the strain upon him. However, he is to go, and I cannot speak to him or look at him or comfort him a whit--and I must submit. Providence is over all; that is the only consolation.
In all this--she says, after speaking again of the severity of the struggle--it is not _I_ who am to be pitied at all, and of course n.o.body pities me. They all think in Haworth that I have disdainfully refused him. If pity would do him any good he ought to have, and I believe has, it. They may abuse me if they will.
Whether they do or not I can't tell.
I thought of you on New Year's Day, and hope you got well over your formidable tea-making. I am busy, too, in my little way, preparing to go to London this week--a matter which necessitates some little application to the needle. I find it quite necessary I should go to superintend the press, as Mr. S---- seems quite determined not to let the printing get on till I come. I have actually only received three proof-sheets since I was at Brookroyd. Papa wants me to go too, to be out of the way, I suppose; but I am sorry for one other person whom n.o.body pities but me.... They don't understand the nature of his feelings, but I see now what they are. Mr. N---- is one of those who attach themselves to very few, whose sensations are close and deep, like an underground stream, running strong but in a narrow channel. He continues restless and ill. He carefully performs the occasional duty, but does not come near the church, procuring a subst.i.tute every Sunday. A few days since he wrote to Papa requesting permission to withdraw his resignation. Papa answered that he should only do so on condition of giving his written promise never again to broach the obnoxious subject either to him or to me. This he has evaded doing, so the matter remains unsettled. I feel persuaded the termination will be, his departure for Australia.
Dear Nell, without loving him, I don't like to think of him suffering in solitude, and wish him anywhere so that he were happier. He and Papa have never met or spoken yet.
During this crisis in her life, when suffering had come to her in a new and sharp form, but when happily the black cloud was lit up on the other side by the rays of the sun, she went up to London to spend a few weeks. From the letters written during her visit I make these extracts:
January 11th, 1853.
I came here last Wednesday. I had a delightful day for my journey, and was kindly received at the close. My time has pa.s.sed pleasantly enough since I came, yet I have not much to tell you; nor is it likely I shall have. I do not mean to go out much or see many people. Sir J. S---- wrote to me two or three times before I left home, and made me promise to let him know when I should be in town, but I reserve to myself the right of deferring the communication till the latter part of my stay. All in this house appear to be pretty much as usual, and yet I see some changes.
Mrs. ---- and her daughter look well enough; but on Mr. ---- hard work is telling early. Both his complexion, his countenance, and the very lines of his features are altered. It is rather the remembrance of what he was than the fact of what he is which can warrant the picture I have been accustomed to give of him. One feels pained to see a physical alteration of this kind; yet I feel glad and thankful that it is _merely_ physical. As far as I can judge, mind and manners have undergone no deterioration--rather, I think, the contrary.
January 19th, 1853.
I still continue to get on very comfortably and quietly in London, in the way I like, seeing rather things than persons. Being allowed to have my own choice of sights this time I selected the _real_ rather than the _decorative_ side of life. I have been over two prisons, ancient and modern, Newgate and Pentonville; also the Bank, the Exchange, the Foundling Hospital; and to-day, if all be well, I go with Dr. Forbes to see Bethlehem Hospital. Mrs. ---- and her daughters are, I believe, a little amazed at my gloomy tastes; but I take no notice. Papa, I am glad to say, continues well. I enclose portions of two notes of his which will show you better than anything I can say how he treats a certain subject. My book is to appear at the close of this month. Mrs. Gaskell wrote to beg that it should not clash with ”Ruth,” and it was impossible to refuse to defer the publication a week or two.
The visit to London did good; but it could not remove the pain which she suffered during this period of conflict.
Haworth, May 19th, 1853.
It is almost a relief to hear that you only think of staying at G---- a month; though of course one must not be selfish in wis.h.i.+ng you to come home soon.... I cannot help feeling satisfaction in finding that the people here are getting up a subscription to offer a testimonial of respect to Mr. N---- on his leaving the place. Many are expressing both their commiseration and esteem for him. The churchwardens recently put the question to him plainly: Why was he going? Was it Mr. Bronte's fault or his own? His own, he answered. Did he blame Mr. Bronte? No, he did not: if anybody was wrong, it was himself. Was he willing to go? No; it gave him great pain. Yet he is not always right. I must be just. Papa addressed him at the school tea-drinking with _constrained_ civility, but still with _civility_. He did not reply civilly; he cut short further words. This sort of treatment is what Papa never will forget or forgive. It inspires him with a silent bitterness not to be expressed.... It is a dismal state of things. The weather is fine now, dear Nell. We will take these sunny days as a good omen for your visit.
May 27th, 1853.
You will want to know about the leave-taking. The whole matter is but a painful subject, but I must treat it briefly. The testimonial was presented in a public meeting. Mr. F---- and Mr.
G---- were there. Papa was not very well, and I advised him to stay away, which he did. As to the last Sunday, it was a cruel struggle. Mr. N---- ought not to have had to take any duty. He left Haworth this morning at six o'clock. Yesterday evening he called to render into Papa's hands the deeds of the National School, and to say good-bye. They were busy cleaning, was.h.i.+ng the paint, &c., so he did not find me there. I would not go into the parlour to speak to him in Papa's presence. He went out, thinking he was not to see me; and indeed till the very last moment I thought it best not. But perceiving that he stayed long before going out at the gate, and remembering his long grief, I took courage, and went out, trembling and miserable. I found him leaning against the garden door.... Of course I went straight to him. Very few words were interchanged; those few barely articulate: several things I should have liked to ask him were swept entirely from my memory. Poor fellow! but he wanted such hope and such encouragement as I _could_ not give him. Still I trust he must know now that I am not cruelly blind and indifferent to his constancy and grief. For a few weeks he goes to the South of England--afterwards he takes a curacy somewhere in Yorks.h.i.+re, but I don't know where. Papa has been far from strong lately. I dare not mention Mr. N----'s name to him. He speaks of him quietly and without opprobrium to others; but to me he is implacable on the matter. However, he is gone--gone--and there's an end of it! I see no chance of hearing a word about him in future, unless some stray shred of intelligence comes through Mr.
G---- or some other second-hand source.
The remainder of the year 1853 was a chequered one. Mr. Nicholls left Haworth; Charlotte remained with her father. Those who saw her at this time bear testimony to the unfailing, never-flagging devotion she displayed towards one who was wounding her cruelly. But she bore this sorrow, like those which had preceded it, bravely and cheerfully. To her friend she opened her heart at times, revealing something of what she was suffering; but to all others she was silent.
Haworth, April 13th, 1853.
MY DEAR MISS ----,--Your last kind letter ought to have been answered long since, and would have been, did I find it practicable to proportion the prompt.i.tude of the response to the value I place upon my correspondents and their communications. You will easily understand, however, that the contrary rule often holds good, and that the epistle which importunes often takes precedence of that which interests. My publishers express entire satisfaction with the reception which has been accorded to ”Villette.” And, indeed, the majority of the reviews has been favourable enough. You will be aware, however, that there is a minority, small in character, which views the work with no favourable eye. ”Currer Bell's” remarks on Romanism have drawn down on him the condign displeasure of the High Church party, which displeasure has been unequivocally expressed through their princ.i.p.al organs, _The Guardian_, _The English Churchman_, and _The Christian Remembrancer_. I can well understand that some of the charges launched against me by these publications will tell heavily to my prejudice in the minds of most readers. But this must be borne; and for my part, I can suffer no accusation to oppress me much which is not supported by the inward evidence of Conscience and Reason. ”Extremes meet,”
says the proverb; in proof whereof I would mention that Miss Martineau finds with ”Villette” nearly the same fault as the Puseyites. She accuses me of attacking Popery ”with virulence,” of going out of my way to a.s.sault it ”pa.s.sionately.” In other respects she has shown, with reference to the work, a spirit so strangely and unexpectedly acrimonious, that I have gathered courage to tell her that the gulf of mutual difference between her and me is so wide and deep, the bridge of union so slight and uncertain, I have come to the conclusion that frequent intercourse would be most perilous and unadvisable, and have begged to adjourn _sine die_ my long-projected visit to her. Of course she is now very angry, but it cannot be helped. Two or three weeks since I received a long and kind letter from Mr. ----, which I answered a short time ago. I believe he thinks me a much better advocate for _change_, and what is called ”political progress,” than I am.
However, in my reply I did not touch on these subjects. He intimated a wish to publish some of his own MSS. I fear he would hardly like the somewhat dissuasive tendency of my answer; but really, in these days of headlong compet.i.tion, it is a great risk to publish.
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