The Life of Charlotte Brontë — Volume 2

CHAPTER IX.. Miss Brontë's Visit to Miss Martineau, and Estimate of Her

Miss Brontë's visit to Miss Martineau, and estimate of her hostess--Remarks on Mr. Ruskin's "Stones of Venice"--Preparations for another visit to London--Letter to Mr. Sydney Dobell: the moors in autumn--Mr. Thackeray's second lecture at Willis's Rooms, and sensation produced by Currer Bell's appearance there--Her account of her visit to London--She breakfasts with Mr. Rogers, visits the Great Exhibition, and sees Lord Westminster's pictures--Return to Haworth and letter thence--Her comment on Mr. Thackeray's Lecture--Counsel on development of character.

CHAPTER X.. Remarks on Friendship--Letter to Mrs. Gaskell on Her and Miss

Remarks on friendship--Letter to Mrs. Gaskell on her and Miss Martineau's views of the Great Exhibition and Mr. Thackeray's lecture, and on the "Saint's Tragedy"--Miss Brontë's feelings towards children--Her comments on Mr. J. S. Mill's article on the Emancipation of Women--More illness at Haworth Parsonage--Letter on Emigration--Periodical returns of illness--Miss Wooler visits Haworth--Miss Brontë's impressions of her visit to London--Her account of the progress of Villette--Her increasing illness and sufferings during winter--Her letter on Mr. Thackeray's Esmond--Revival of sorrows and accessions of low spirits--Remarks on some recent books--Retrospect of the winter of 1851-2--Letter to Mrs. Gaskell on "Ruth."

CHAPTER XI.. Miss Brontë Revisits Scarborough--Serious Illness and Ultimate

Miss Brontë revisits Scarborough--Serious illness and ultimate convalescence of her father--Her own illness--"Villette" nearly completed--Further remarks on "Esmond" and "Uncle Tom's Cabin"--Letter respecting "Villette"--Another letter about "Villette"--Instance of extreme sensibility.

CHAPTER XII.. The Biographer's Difficulty--Deep and Enduring Attachment of Mr.

The biographer's difficulty--Deep and enduring attachment of Mr. Nicholls for Miss Brontë--Instance of her self-abnegation--She again visits London--Impressions of this visit--Letter to Mrs. Gaskell--Reception of the critiques on "Villette"--Misunderstanding with Miss Martineau--Letter on Mr. Thackeray's portrait--Visit of the Bishop of Ripon to Haworth Parsonage--Her wish to see the unfavourable critiques on her works--Her nervous shyness of strangers, and its cause--Letter on Mr. Thackeray's lectures.

CHAPTER XIII.. Letter to Mrs. Gaskell on Writing Fiction, Etc.--the Biographer's

Letter to Mrs. Gaskell on writing fiction, etc.--The biographer's account of her visit to Haworth, and reminiscences of conversations with Miss Brontë--Letters from Miss Brontë to her friends--Her engagement to Mr. Nicholls, and preparations for the marriage--The marriage ceremony and wedding tour--Her happiness in the married state--New symptoms of illness, and their cause--The two last letters written by Mrs. Nicholls--An alarming change--Her death.

CHAPTER XIV.. Mourners At the Funeral--Conclusion.

Mourners at the funeral--Conclusion.

CHAPTER I.

During this summer of 1846, while her literary hopes were waning, an anxiety of another kind was increasing. Her father's eyesight had become seriously impaired by the progress of the cataract which was forming. He was nearly blind. He could grope his way about, and recognise the figures of those he knew well, when they were placed against a strong light; but he could no longer see to read; and thus his eager appetite for knowledge and information of all kinds was severely balked. He continued to preach. I have heard that he was led up into the pulpit, and that his sermons were never so effective as when he stood there, a grey sightless old man, his blind eyes looking out straight before him, while the words that came from his lips had all the vigour and force of his best days. Another fact has been mentioned to me, curious as showing the accurateness of his sensation of time. His sermons had always lasted exactly half an hour. With the clock right before him, and with his ready flow of words, this had been no difficult matter as long as he could see. But it was the same when he was blind; as the minute-hand came to the point, marking the expiration of the thirty minutes, he concluded his sermon.

Under his great sorrow he was always patient. As in times of far greater affliction, he enforced a quiet endurance of his woe upon himself. But so many interests were quenched by this blindness that he was driven inwards, and must have dwelt much on what was painful and distressing in regard to his only son. No wonder that his spirits gave way, and were depressed. For some time before this autumn, his daughters had been collecting all the information they could respecting the probable success of operations for cataract performed on a person of their father's age. About the end of July, Emily and Charlotte had made a journey to Manchester for the purpose of searching out an operator; and there they heard of the fame of the late Mr. Wilson as an oculist. They went to him at once, but he could not tell, from description, whether the eyes were ready for being operated upon or not. It therefore became necessary for Mr. Brontë to visit him; and towards the end of August, Charlotte brought her father to him. He determined at once to undertake the operation, and recommended them to comfortable lodgings, kept by an old servant of his. These were in one of numerous similar streets of small monotonous-looking houses, in a suburb of the town. From thence the following letter is dated, on August 21st, 1846:--

"I just scribble a line to you to let you know where I am, in order that you may write to me here, for it seems to me that a letter from you would relieve me from the feeling of strangeness I have in this big town. Papa and I came here on Wednesday; we saw Mr. Wilson, the oculist, the same day; he pronounced papa's eyes quite ready for an operation, and has fixed next Monday for the performance of it. Think of us on that day! We got into our lodgings yesterday. I think we shall be comfortable; at least our rooms are very good, but there is no mistress of the house (she is very ill, and gone out into the country), and I am somewhat puzzled in managing about provisions; we board ourselves. I find myself excessively ignorant. I can't tell what to order in the way of meat. For ourselves I could contrive, papa's diet is so very simple; but there will be a nurse coming in a day or two, and I am afraid of not having things good enough for her. Papa requires nothing, you know, but plain beef and mutton, tea and bread and butter; but a nurse will probably expect to live much better; give me some hints if you can. Mr. Wilson says we shall have to stay here for a month at least. I wonder how Emily and Anne will get on at home with Branwell. They, too, will have their troubles. What would I not give to have you here! One is forced, step by step, to get experience in the world; but the learning is so disagreeable. One cheerful feature in the business is, that Mr. Wilson thinks most favourably of the case."

"August 26th, 1846.

"The operation is over; it took place yesterday Mr. Wilson performed it; two other surgeons assisted. Mr. Wilson says, he considers it quite successful; but papa cannot yet see anything. The affair lasted precisely a quarter of an hour; it was not the simple operation of couching Mr. C. described, but the more complicated one of extracting the cataract. Mr. Wilson entirely disapproves of couching. Papa displayed extraordinary patience and firmness; the surgeons seemed surprised. I was in the room all the time; as it was his wish that I should be there; of course, I neither spoke nor moved till the thing was done, and then I felt that the less I said, either to papa or the surgeons, the better. Papa is now confined to his bed in a dark room, and is not to be stirred for four days; he is to speak and be spoken to as little as possible. I am greatly obliged to you for your letter, and your kind advice, which gave me extreme satisfaction, because I found I had arranged most things in accordance with it, and, as your theory coincides with my practice, I feel assured the latter is right. I hope Mr. Wilson will soon allow me to dispense with the nurse; she is well enough, no doubt, but somewhat too obsequious; and not, I should think, to be much trusted; yet I was obliged to trust her in some things. . . .

"Greatly was I amused by your account of ----'s flirtations; and yet something saddened also. I think Nature intended him for something better than to fritter away his time in making a set of poor, unoccupied spinsters unhappy. The girls, unfortunately, are forced to care for him, and such as him, because, while their minds are mostly unemployed, their sensations are all unworn, and, consequently, fresh and green; and he, on the contrary, has had his fill of pleasure, and can with impunity make a mere pastime of other people's torments. This is an unfair state of things; the match is not equal. I only wish I had the power to infuse into the souls of the persecuted a little of the quiet strength of pride--of the supporting consciousness of superiority (for they are superior to him because purer)--of the fortifying resolve of firmness to bear the present, and wait the end. Could all the virgin population of ---- receive and retain these sentiments, he would continually have to veil his crest before them. Perhaps, luckily, their feelings are not so acute as one would think, and the gentleman's shafts consequently don't wound so deeply as he might desire. I hope it is so."

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