" called a voice, and I
hastened
down.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v04 - Bes to Bro
"
And with the success of 'Jane Eyre' came a lively curiosity to
know something of the personality of the author. This was not
gratified for some time. There were many conjectures, all of them
far amiss. The majority of readers asserted confidently that the
work must be that of a man: the touch was unmistakably mascu-
line. In some quarters it met with hearty abuse. The Quarterly
Review, in an article still notorious for its brutality, condemned the
book as coarse, and stated that if 'Jane Eyre' were really written by
a woman, she must be an improper woman, who had forfeited the
society of her sex. This was said in December, 1848, of one of the
noblest and purest of womankind. It is not a matter of surprise that
## p. 2382 (#584) ###########################################
2382
BRONTÉ SISTERS
the identity of this audacious speculator was not revealed. The
recent examination into the topic by Mr. Clement Shorter seems,
however, to fix the authorship of the notice on Lady Eastlake, at
that time Miss Driggs.
But hostile criticism of the book and its mysterious author could
not injure its popularity. The story swept all before it—press and
public. Whatever might be the source, the work stood there and
spoke for itself in commanding terms. At length the mystery was
cleared. A shrewd Yorkshireman guessed and published the truth,
and the curious world knew that the author of 'Jane Eyre' was the
daughter of a clergyman in the little village of Haworth, and that
the literary sensation of the day found its source in a nervous,
shrinking, awkward, plain, delicate young creature of thirty-one
years of age, whose life, with the exception of two years, had been
spent on the bleak and dreary moorlands of Yorkshire, and for the
most part in the narrow confines of a grim gray stone parsonage.
There she had lived a pinched and meagre little life, full of sadness
and self-denial, with two sisters more delicate than herself, a dis-
solute brother, and a father her only parent,- a stern and forbidding
father. This was no genial environment for an author, even if help-
ful to her vivid imagination. Nor was it a temporary condition,
it was a permanent one. Nearly all the influences in Charlotte
Bronté's life were such as these, which would seem to cramp if
not to stifle sensitive talent. Her brother Branwell (physically
weaker than herself, though unquestionably talented, and for a time
the idol and hope of the family) became dissipated, irresponsible,
untruthful, and a ne'er-do-weel, and finally yielding to circumstances,
ended miserably a life of failure.
But Charlotte Bronté's nature was one of indomitable courage,
that circumstances might shadow but could not obscure. Out of the
meagre elements of her narrow life she evolved works that stand
among the imperishable things of English literature. It is a paradox
that finds its explanation only in a statement of natural sources,
primitive, bardic, the sources of the early epics, the sources of such
epics as Cædmon and Beowulf bore. She wrote from a sort of
necessity; it was in obedience to the commanding authority of an
extraordinary genius,-a creative power that struggled for expres-
sion, and much of her work deserves in the best and fullest sense
the term "inspired. "
The facts of her life are few in number, but they have a direct
and significant bearing on her work. She was born at Thornton,
in the parish of Bradford, in 1816. Four years later her father
moved to Haworth, to the parsonage now indissolubly associated
with her name, and there Mr. Bronté entered upon a long period
――――――
## p. 2383 (#585) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2383
of pastorate service, that only ended with his death. Charlotte's
mother was dead. In 1824 Charlotte and two older sisters, Maria
and Elizabeth, went to a school at Cowan's Bridge. It was an insti-
tution for clergymen's children, a vivid picture of which appears in
'Jane Eyre. ' It was so badly managed and the food was so poor
that many of the children fell sick, among them Maria Bronté, who
died in 1825.
Elizabeth followed her a few months later, and Char-
lotte returned to Haworth, where she remained for six years, then
went to school at Roe Head for a period of three years.
She was
offered the position of teacher by Miss Wooler, the principal at Roe
Head, but considering herself unfit to teach, she resolved to go to
Brussels to study French. She spent two years there, and it was
there that her intimate and misconstrued friendship for M. Heger
developed. The incidents of that period formed the material of a
greater portion of her novel 'Villette,' filled twenty-two volumes of
from sixty to one hundred pages of fine writing, and consisted of
some forty complete novelettes or other stories and childish "maga-
zines. "
On returning to Haworth, she endeavored, together with her sister
Emily, to establish a school at their home. But pupils were not to
be had, and the outlook was discouraging. Two periods of service
as governess, and the ill health that had followed, had taught Char-
lotte the danger that threatened her. Her experiences as a governess
in the Sedgwick family were pictured by-and-by in Jane Eyre. ' In
a letter to Miss Ellen Nussey, written at this time, she gives a dark
vignette of her situation.
With her two sisters Emily and Anne she lived a quiet and
retired life. The harsh realities about them, the rough natures of
the Yorkshire people, impelled the three sisters to construct in their
home an ideal world of their own, and in this their pent-up natures
found expression. Their home was lonely and gloomy. Mr. Clement
K. Shorter, in his recent study of the novelist and her family, says
that the house is much the same to-day, though its immediate sur-
roundings are brightened. He writes:
"One day Emily confided to Charlotte that she had written some
verses. Charlotte answered with a similar confidence, and then Anne
acknowledged that she too had been secretly writing. This mutual
confession brought about a complete understanding and sympathy,
and from that time on the sisters worked together-reading their
literary productions to one another and submitting to each other's
criticism. "
This was however by no means Charlotte's first literary work.
She has left a catalogue of books written by her between 1829 and
1830. Her first printed work however appeared in a volume of 'Poems'
## p. 2384 (#586) ###########################################
2384
BRONTE SISTERS
by Acton, Ellis, and Currer Bell, published in 1846 at the expense of
the authors. Under these names the little book of the Bronté sisters
went forth to the world, was reviewed with mild favor in some few
periodicals, and was lost to sight.
Then came a period of novel-writing. As a result, Emily Bronté's
'Wuthering Heights,' Anne Bronté's 'Agnes Grey,' and Charlotte
Bronté's The Professor' set out together to find a publisher. The
last-named was unsuccessful; but on the day it was returned to her,
Charlotte Bronté began writing Jane Eyre. ' That first masterpiece
was shaped during a period of sorrow and discouragement. Her
father was ill and in danger of losing his eyesight. Her brother
Branwell was sinking into the slough of disgrace. No wonder 'Jane
Eyre' is not a story of sunshine and roses. She finished the story
in 1847. and it was accepted by the publishers promptly upon exam-
ination.
After its publication and the sensation produced, Charlotte Bronté
continued her literary work quietly, and unaffected by the furore she
had aroused. A few brief visits to London, where attempts were
made to lionize her, - very much to her distaste, - a few literary
friendships, notably those with Thackeray, George Henry Lewes, Mrs.
Gaskell, and Harriet Martineau, were the only features that distin-
guished her literary life from the simple life she had always led and
continued to lead at Haworth. She was ever busy, if not ever at her
desk. Success had come; she was sane in the midst of it. She
wrote slowly and only as she felt the impulse, and when she knew
she had found the proper impression. In 1849 Shirley' was pub-
lished. In 1853 appeared 'Villette,' her last finished work, and the
one considered by herself the best.
In 1854 she married her father's curate, Mr. A. B. Nicholls. She
had lost her brother Branwell and her two sisters Emily and Anne.
Sorrow upon sorrow had closed like deepening shadows about her.
All happiness in life for her had apparently ended, when this mar-
riage brought a brief ray of sunshine. It was a happy union, and
seemed to assure a period of peace and rest for the sorely tried soul.
Only a few short months, however, and fate, as if grudging her even
the bit of happiness, snapped the slender threads of her life and the
whole sad episode of her existence was ended. She died March 31st,
1855, leaving her husband and father to mourn together in the lonely
parsonage. She left a literary fragment - the story entitled 'Emma,'
which was published with an introduction by Thackeray.
Such are the main facts of this reserved life of Charlotte Bronté.
Are they dull and commonplace? Some of them are indeed inexpress-
ibly sad. Tragedy is beneath all the bitter chronicle. The sadness
of her days can be appreciated by all who read her books. Through
## p. 2385 (#587) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2385
all her stories there is an intense note, especially in treating the
pathos of existence, that is unmistakably subjective. There is a
keen perception of the darker depths of human nature that could
have been revealed to a human heart only by suffering and sorrow.
She did not allow sadness, however, to crush her spirit. She was
neither morbid nor melancholy, but on the contrary Charlotte was
cheerful and pleasant in disposition and manner. She was a loving
sister and devoted daughter, patient and obedient to a parent who
afterwards made obedience a severe hardship. There were other
sides to her character. She was not always calmn. She was not
ever tender and a maker of allowances. But who is such? And she
had good reason to be impatient with the world as she found it.
Her character and disposition are partially reflected in 'Jane
Eyre. ' The calm, clear mind, the brave, independent spirit are
there. But a fuller and more accurate picture of her character may
be found in Lucy Snowe, the heroine of 'Villette. ' Here we find
especially that note of hopelessness that predominated in Charlotte's
character. Mrs. Gaskell, in her admirable biography of Charlotte
Bronté, has called attention to this absence of hope in her nature.
Charlotte indeed never allowed herself to look forward to happy
issues. She had no confidence in the future. The pressure of grief
apparently crushed all buoyancy of expectation. It was in this
attitude that when literary success greeted her, she made little of it,
scarcely allowing herself to believe that the world really set a high
value on her work. Throughout all the excitement that her books
produced, she was almost indifferent. Brought up as she had been
to regard literary work as something beyond the proper limits of
her sex, she never could quite rid herself of the belief that in writing
successfully, she had made of herself not so much a literary figure
as a sort of social curiosity. Nor was that idea wholly foreign to her
time.
Personally Charlotte Bronté was not unattractive. Though some-
what too slender and pale, and plain of feature, she had a pleasant
expression, and her homelier features were redeemed by a strong
massive forehead, luxuriant glossy hair, and handsome eyes. Though
she had little faith in her powers of inspiring affection, she attracted
people strongly and was well beloved by her friends. That she
could stir romantic sentiment too was attested by the fact that she
received and rejected three proposals of marriage from as many
suitors, before her acceptance of Mr. Nicholls.
Allusion has been made to the work of Charlotte's two sisters,
Emily and Anne. Of the two Emily is by far the more remarkable,
revealing in the single novel we have from her pen a genius as dis-
tinct and individual as that of her more celebrated sister. Had she
IV-150
## p. 2386 (#588) ###########################################
2386
BRONTÉ SISTERS
lived, it is more than likely that her literary achievements would
have rivaled Charlotte's.
Emily Bronté has always been something of a puzzle to biogra-
phers. She was eccentric, an odd mixture of bashful reserve and
unexpected spells of frankness, sweet, gentle, and retiring in disposi-
tion, but possessed of great courage. She was two years younger
than Charlotte, but taller. She was slender, though well formed, and
was pale in complexion, with great gray eyes of remarkable beauty.
Emily's literary work is to be found in the volume of 'Poems of her
sisters, her share in that work being considered superior in imaginat-
ive quality and in finish to that of the others; and in the novel
'Wuthering Heights,' a weird, horrid story of astonishing power, writ-
ten when she was twenty-eight years of age. Considered purely as an
imaginative work, Wuthering Heights' is one of the most remarkable
stories in English literature, and is worthy to be ranked with the
works of Edgar A. Poe. Many will say that it might better not have
been written, so utterly repulsive is it, but others will value it as a
striking, though distorted, expression of unmistakable genius. It is
a ghastly and gruesome creation. Not one bright ray redeems it.
It deals with the most evil characters and the most evil phases of
human experience. But it fascinates. Heathcliff, the chief figure in
the book, is one of the greatest villains in fiction, an abhorrent
creature, strange, monstrous, Frankensteinesque.
Anne Bronté is known by her share in the book of Poems' and
by two novels, Agnes Gray' and 'The Tenant of Wildfell Hall,'
both of which are disappointing. The former is based on the
author's experiences as a governess, and is written in the usual
placid style of romances of the time. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall'
found its suggestion in the wretched career of Branwell Bronté, and
presents a sad and depressing picture of a life of degradation. The
book was not a success, and would no doubt have sunk long ago
into oblivion but for its association with the novels of Emily and
Charlotte.
<
-
In studying the work of Charlotte Bronté, the gifted older sister
of the group, one of the first of the qualities that impress the reader
is her actual creative power. To one of her imaginative power, the
simplest life was sufficient, the smallest details a fund of material.
Mr. Swinburne has called attention to the fact that Charlotte Bronté's
characters are individual creations, not types constructed out of ele-
ments gathered from a wide observation of human nature, and that
they are real creations; that they compel our interest and command
our assent because they are true, inevitably true. Perhaps no better
example of this individualism could be cited than Rochester. The
character is unique. It is not a type, nor has it even a prototype,
## p. 2387 (#589) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2387
like so many of Charlotte Bronté's characters. Gossip insisted at one
time that the author intended to picture Thackeray in Rochester, but
this is groundless. Rochester is an original creation. The character
of Jane Eyre, too, while reflecting something of the author's nature,
was distinctly individual; and it is interesting to note here that with
Jane Eyre came a new heroine into fiction, a woman of calm, clear
reason, of firm positive character, and what was most novel, a plain
woman, a homely heroine.
་ "Why is it," Charlotte had once said, "that heroines must always
be beautiful ? » The hero of romance was always noble and hand-
some, the heroine lovely and often insipid, and the scenes set in an
atmosphere of exaggerated idealism. Against this idealism Charlotte
Bronté revolted. Her effort was always toward realism.
In her realism she reveals a second characteristic scarcely less
marked than her creative powers,—an extraordinary faculty of obser-
vation. She saw the essence, the spirit of things, and the simplest
details of life revealed to her the secrets of human nature. What
she had herself seen and felt - the plain rugged types of Yorkshire
character, the wild scenery of the moorlands—she reflected with liv-
ing truth. She got the real fact out of every bit of material in
humanity and nature that her simple life afforded her. And where
her experience could not afford her the necessary material, she drew
upon some mysterious resources in her nature, which were appar-
ently not less reliable than actual experience. On being asked once
how she could describe so accurately the effects of opium as she
does in Villette,' she replied that she knew nothing of opium, but
that she had followed the process she always adopted in cases of
this kind. She had thought intently on the matter for many a night
before falling asleep; till at length, after some time, she waked in
the morning with all clear before her, just as if she had actually
gone through the experience, and then could describe it word for
word as it happened.
Her sensitiveness to impressions of nature was exceedingly keen.
She had what Swinburne calls "an instinct for the tragic use of
landscape. " By constant and close observation during her walks
she had established a fellowship with nature in all her phases; learn-
ing her secrets from the voices of the night, from the whisper of
the trees, and from the eerie moaning of the moorland blasts. She
studied the cold sky, and had watched the "coming night-clouds
trailing low like banners drooping. "
Other qualities that distinguish her work are purity, depth and
ardor of passion, and spiritual force and fervor. Her genius was
lofty and noble, and an exalted moral quality predominates in her
stories. She was ethical as sincerely as she was emotional.
## p. 2388 (#590) ###########################################
2388
BRONTÉ SISTERS
We have only to consider her technique, in which she is character-
istically original. This originality is noticeable especially in her use
of words. There is a sense of fitness that often surprises the reader.
Words at times in her hands reveal a new power and significance.
In the choice of words Charlotte Bronté was scrupulous. She believed
that there was just one word fit to express the idea or shade of
meaning she wished to convey, and she never admitted a substitute,
sometimes waiting days until the right word came. Her expressions
are therefore well fitted and forcible. Though the predominant key
is a serious one, there is nevertheless considerable humor in Charlotte
Bronté's work. In 'Shirley' especially we find many happy scenes,
and much wit in repartee. And yet, with all these merits, one will
find at times her style to be lame, stiff, and crude, and even when
strongest, occasionally coarse. Not infrequently she is melodramatic
and sensational. But through it all there is that pervading sense of
reality and it redeems these defects.
Of the unusual, the improbable, the highly colored in Charlotte
Bronté's books we shall say little. In criticizing works so true to life
and nature as these, one should not be hasty.
We feel the presence
of a seer. Some one once made an objection in Charlotte Bronté's
presence to that part of 'Jane Eyre' in which she hears Rochester's
voice calling to her at a great crisis in her life, he being many miles
distant from her at the time. Charlotte caught her breath and replied
in a low voice: "But it is a true thing; it really happened. ” And
so it might be said of Charlotte Bronté's work as a whole:- "It is a
true thing; it really happened. "
## p. 2389 (#591) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2389
JANE EYRE'S WEDDING DAY
From Jane Eyre'
SOP
OPHIE came at seven to dress me. She was very long indeed
in accomplishing her task; so long that Mr. Rochester-
grown, I suppose, impatient of my delay-sent up to ask
why I did not come. She was just fastening my veil (the plain
square of blonde, after all) to my hair with a brooch; I hurried
from under her hands as soon as I could.
"Stop! " she cried in French. "Look at yourself in the mir
ror; you have not taken one peep. "
So I turned at the door. I saw a robed and veiled figure, so
unlike my usual self that it seemed almost the image of a stran-
ger.
"Jane!
" called a voice, and I hastened down. I was received
at the foot of the stairs by Mr. Rochester. "Lingerer," he said,
"my brain is on fire with impatience; and you tarry so long! "
He took me into the dining-room, surveyed me keenly all
over, pronounced me "fair as a lily, and not only the pride of
his life, but the desire of his eyes"; and then, telling me he
would give me but ten minutes to eat some breakfast, he rang
the bell. One of his lately hired servants, a footman, answered it.
"Is John getting the carriage ready? »
"Yes, sir. "
"Is the luggage brought down? "
"They are bringing it down, sir. "
"Go you to the church; see if Mr. Wood" (the clergyman)
"and the clerk are there; return and tell me. "
―
The church, as the reader knows, was but just beyond the
gates; the footman soon returned.
"Mr. Wood is in the vestry, sir, putting on his surplice. "
"And the carriage? "
"The horses are harnessing. "
"We shall not want it to go to church; but it must be ready
the moment we return all the boxes and luggage arranged and
strapped on, and the coachman in his seat. "
"Yes, sir. "
"Jane, are you ready? "
I rose.
There were no groomsmen, no bridesmaids, no rela-
tives to wait for or marshal; none but Mr. Rochester and I.
## p. 2390 (#592) ###########################################
BRONTE SISTERS
2390
Mrs. Fairfax stood in the hall as we passed. I would fain have
spoken to her, but my hand was held by a grasp of iron; I was
hurried along by a stride I could hardly follow; and to look at
Mr. Rochester's face was to feel that not a second of delay would
be tolerated for any purpose. I wondered what other bridegroom
ever looked as he did-so bent up to a purpose, so grimly reso-
lute; or who, under such steadfast brows, ever revealed such
flaming and flashing eyes.
I know not whether the day was fair or foul; in descending
the drive I gazed neither on sky nor earth; my heart was with
my eyes, and both seemed migrated into Mr. Rochester's frame.
I wanted to see the invisible thing on which, as we went along,
he appeared to fasten a glance fierce and fell. I wanted to feel
the thoughts whose force he seemed breasting and resisting.
At the churchyard wicket he stopped; he discovered I was
quite out of breath.
"Am I cruel in my love? " he said. "Delay an instant; lean
on me, Jane. "
And now I can recall the picture of the gray old house of
God rising calm before me, of a rook wheeling around the steeple,
of a ruddy morning sky beyond. I remember something, too, of
the green grave-mounds; and I have not forgotten, either, two
figures of strangers, straying among the low hillocks, and reading
the mementos graven on the few mossy headstones. I noticed
them because as they saw us they passed around to the back of
the church; and I doubted not they were going to enter by the
side aisle door and witness the ceremony. By Mr. Rochester
they were not observed; he was earnestly looking at my face,
from which the blood had, I dare say, momentarily fled; for I
felt my forehead dewy and my cheeks and lips cold. When I
rallied, which I soon did, he walked gently with me up the path
to the porch.
We entered the quiet and humble temple; the priest waited
in his white surplice at the lowly altar, the clerk beside him. All
was still; two shadows only moved in a remote corner. My con-
jecture had been correct; the strangers had slipped in before us,
and they now stood by the vault of the Rochesters, their backs
toward us, viewing through the rails the old time-stained marble
tomb, where a kneeling angel guarded the remains of Damer de
Rochester, slain at Marston Moor in the time of the civil wars,
and of Elizabeth his wife.
## p. 2391 (#593) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2391
Our place was taken at the communion-rails. Hearing a cau-
tious step behind me, I glanced over my shoulder; one of the
strangers a gentleman, evidently-was advancing up the chancel.
The service began. The explanation of the intent of matrimony
was gone through: and then the clergyman came a step farther
forward, and bending slightly toward Mr. Rochester, went on:-
"I require and charge you both (as ye will answer at the
dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be
disclosed) that if either of you know any impediment why ye
may not lawfully be joined together in matrimony, ye do now
confess it; for be ye well assured that so many as are coupled
together otherwise than God's word doth allow are not joined
together by God, neither is their matrimony lawful. "
He paused, as the custom is.
sentence ever broken by reply?
When is the pause after that
Not, perhaps, once in a hun-
dred years.
And the clergyman, who had not lifted his eyes
from his book, and had held his breath but for a moment, was
proceeding; his hand was already stretched toward Mr. Roches-
ter, as his lips unclosed to ask, "Wilt thou have this woman for
thy wedded wife? "- when a distinct and near voice said, « The
marriage cannot go on: I declare the existence of an impedi-
ment. "
-
The clergyman looked up at the speaker and stood mute:
the clerk did the same; Mr. Rochester moved slightly, as if an
earthquake had rolled under his feet; taking a firmer footing,
and not turning his head or eyes, he said, "Proceed! "
Profound silence fell when he had uttered that word, with
deep but low intonation. Presently Mr. Wood said, "I cannot
proceed without some investigation into what has been asserted,
and evidence of its truth or falsehood. "
"The ceremony is quite broken off," subjoined the voice.
behind us. "I am in a condition to prove my allegation; an
insuperable impediment to this marriage exists. "
Mr. Rochester heard, but heeded not; he stood stubborn and
rigid; making no movement but to possess himself of my hand.
What a hot and strong grasp he had! - and how like quarried
marble was his pale, firm, massive front at this moment! How
his eye shone, still, watchful, and yet wild beneath!
Mr. Wood seemed at a loss. «< 'What is the nature of the
impediment? " he asked. Perhaps it may be got over
«<
explained away? "
## p. 2392 (#594) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2392
"Hardly," was the answer: I have called it insuperable, and
I speak advisedly. "
The speaker came forward and leaned on the rails.
He con-
tinued, uttering each word distinctly, calmly, steadily, but not
loudly.
"It simply consists in the existence of a previous marriage.
Mr. Rochester has a wife now living. "
My nerves vibrated to those low-spoken words as they had
never vibrated to thunder; my blood felt their subtle violence as
it had never felt frost or fire; but I was collected, and in no
danger of swooning. I looked at Mr. Rochester; I made him look
at me. His whole face was colorless rock; his eye was both
spark and flint. He disavowed nothing; he seemed as if he
would defy all things. Without speaking, without smiling, with-
out seeming to recognize in me a human being, he only twined
my waist with his arm and riveted me to his side.
"Who are you? " he asked of the intruder.
<< My name is Briggs, a solicitor of
"And you would thrust on me a wife? "
Street, London. "
"I would remind you of your lady's existence, sir, which the
law recognizes if you do not. "
"Favor me with an account of her- with her name, her par-
entage, her place of abode. "
"Certainly. " Mr. Briggs calmly took a paper from his pocket,
and read out in a sort of official, nasal voice:-
___________________________
_________
"
"I affirm nd can prove that on the 20th of October, A. D.
>> (a date of fifteen years back), "Edward Fairfax Roches-
ter, of Thornfield Hall, in the county of
and of Ferndean
Manor, in —shire, England, was married to my sister, Bertha
Antoinetta Mason, daughter of Jonas Mason, merchant, and of
Antoinetta his wife, a Creole, at church, Spanish Town,
Jamaica. The record of the marriage will be found in the regis-
ter of that church-a copy of it is now in my possession.
Signed, Richard Mason. "
"That, if a genuine document, may prove I have been mar-
ried, but it does not prove that the woman mentioned therein as
my wife is still living. "
«< She was living three months ago," returned the lawyer.
"How do you know? "
"I have a witness to the fact whose testimony even you, sir,
will scarcely controvert. "
## p. 2393 (#595) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2393
"Produce him- or go to hell! »
"I will produce him first-he is on the spot: Mr. Mason,
have the goodness to step forward. ”
Mr. Rochester, on hearing the name, set his teeth: he expe-
rienced, too, a sort of strong convulsive quiver; near to him as
I was, I felt the spasmodic movement of fury or despair run
through his frame.
The second stranger, who had hitherto lingered in the back-
ground, now drew near; a pale face looked over the solicitor's
shoulder-yes, it was Mason himself. Mr. Rochester turned and
glared at him. His eye, as I have often said, was a black eye-
it had now a tawny, nay, a bloody light in its gloom; and his
face flushed-olive cheek and hueless forehead received a glow,
as from spreading, ascending heart-fire; and he stirred, lifted
his strong arm; he could have struck Mason-dashed him on
the church floor-shocked by ruthless blow the breath from his
body; but Mason shrank away, and cried faintly, "Good God! "
Contempt fell cool on Mr. Rochester-his passion died as if
a blight had shriveled it up; he only asked, "What have you
to say? "
An inaudible reply escaped Mason's white lips.
"The devil is in it if you cannot answer distinctly. I again
demand, what have you to say? "
"Sir-sir," interrupted the clergyman, "do not forget you are
in a sacred place. " Then addressing Mason, he inquired gently,
"Are you aware, sir, whether or not this gentleman's wife is
still living? "
>>
"Courage," urged the lawyer; "speak out.
"She is now living at Thornfield Hall," said Mason, in more
articulate tones. "I saw her there last April. I am her brother. "
"At Thornfield Hall! " ejaculated the clergyman. "Impos-
sible! I am an old resident in this neighborhood, sir, and I
never heard of a Mrs. Rochester at Thornfield Hall. "
I saw a grim smile contort Mr. Rochester's lip, and he mut-
tered, "No, by God! I took care that none should hear of it, or
of her under that name. " He mused; for ten minutes he held
counsel with himself: he formed his resolve, and announced it:-
"Enough; all shall bolt out at once, like a bullet from the bar-
rel. Wood, close your book and take off your surplice; John
Green" (to the clerk) "leave the church: there will be no wed-
ding to-day. " The man obeyed.
## p. 2394 (#596) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2394
Mr. Rochester continued hardily and recklessly:- "Bigamy is
an ugly word! I meant, however, to be a bigamist; but fate has
out-manœuvred me, or Providence has checked me- perhaps the
last. I am little better than a devil at this moment; and as my
pastor there would tell me, deserve no doubt the sternest judg-
ments of God, even to the quenchless fire and deathless worm.
"Gentlemen, my plan is broken up! what this lawyer and his
client say is true: I have been married, and the woman to whom
I was married lives! You say you never heard of a Mrs. Roch-
ester at the house up yonder, Wood; but I dare say you have many
a time inclined your ear to gossip about the mysterious lunatic
kept there under watch and ward. Some have whispered to you
that she is my bastard half-sister; some, my cast-off mistress: I
now inform you that she is my wife, whom I married fifteen
years ago - Bertha Mason by name; sister of this resolute per-
sonage who is now, with his quivering limbs and white cheeks,
showing you what a stout heart men may bear. Cheer up, Dick!
never fear me! I'd almost as soon strike a woman as you.
Bertha Mason is mad; and she came of a mad family - idiots
and maniacs through three generations! Her mother, the Creole,
was both a mad-woman and a drunkard! as I found out after
I had wed the daughter; for they were silent on family secrets
before. Bertha, like a dutiful child, copied her parent in both
points. I had a charming partner-pure, wise, modest; you can
fancy I was a happy man. I went through rich scenes! Oh! my
experience has been heavenly, if you only knew it! But I owe
you no further explanation. Briggs, Wood, Mason, I invite you
all to come up to the house and visit Mrs. Poole's patient, and
my wife! You shall see what sort of a being I was cheated into
espousing, and judge whether or not I had a right to break the
compact, and seek sympathy with something at least human.
This girl," he continued, looking at me, "knew no more than
you, Wood, of the disgusting secret: she thought all was fair and
legal, and never dreamed that she was going to be entrapped
into a feigned union with a defrauded wretch, already bound to
a bad, mad, and imbruted partner! Come, all of you, follow. "
Still holding me fast, he left the church: the three gentle-
men came after. At the front door of the hall we found the
carriage.
-
"Take it back to the coach-house, John," said Mr. Rochester,
coolly: "it will not be wanted to-day. "
## p. 2395 (#597) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2395
At our entrance, Mrs. Fairfax, Adèle, Sophie, Leah, advanced
to meet and greet us.
-
"To the right-about - every soul! " cried the master: "away
with your congratulations! Who wants them? Not I! they are
fifteen years too late! "
He passed on and ascended the stairs, still holding my hand,
and still beckoning the gentlemen to follow him; which they did.
We mounted the first staircase, passed up the gallery, proceeded
to the third story: the low black door, opened by Mr. Roches-
ter's master-key, admitted us to the tapestried room, with its
great bed and its pictorial cabinet.
"You know this place, Mason," said our guide; "she bit and
stabbed you here. ”
He lifted the hangings from the wall, uncovering the second
door; this too he opened. In a room without a window there
burned a fire, guarded by a high and strong fender, and a lamp
suspended from the ceiling by a chain. Grace Poole bent over
the fire, apparently cooking something in a saucepan. In the
deep shade, at the further end of the room, a figure ran back-
ward and forward. What it was, whether beast or human being,
one could not at first sight tell; it groveled, seemingly, on all
fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal;
but it was covered with clothing; and a quantity of dark grizzled
hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face.
"Good morning, Mrs. Poole," said Mr. Rochester. "How are
you? and how is your charge to-day? "
"We're tolerable, sir, I thank you," replied Grace, lifting the
boiling mess carefully on to the hob: "rather snappish, but not
'rageous. "
A fierce cry seemed to give the lie to her favorable report:
the clothed hyena rose up, and stood tall on its hind feet.
"Ah, sir, she sees you! " exclaimed Grace: "you'd better not
stay. "
"Only a few moments, Grace; you must allow me a few mo-
ments. "
"Take care then, sir! for God's sake, take care! "
The maniac bellowed; she parted her shaggy locks from her
visage, and gazed wildly at her visitors. I recognized well that
purple face-those bloated features. Mrs.
And with the success of 'Jane Eyre' came a lively curiosity to
know something of the personality of the author. This was not
gratified for some time. There were many conjectures, all of them
far amiss. The majority of readers asserted confidently that the
work must be that of a man: the touch was unmistakably mascu-
line. In some quarters it met with hearty abuse. The Quarterly
Review, in an article still notorious for its brutality, condemned the
book as coarse, and stated that if 'Jane Eyre' were really written by
a woman, she must be an improper woman, who had forfeited the
society of her sex. This was said in December, 1848, of one of the
noblest and purest of womankind. It is not a matter of surprise that
## p. 2382 (#584) ###########################################
2382
BRONTÉ SISTERS
the identity of this audacious speculator was not revealed. The
recent examination into the topic by Mr. Clement Shorter seems,
however, to fix the authorship of the notice on Lady Eastlake, at
that time Miss Driggs.
But hostile criticism of the book and its mysterious author could
not injure its popularity. The story swept all before it—press and
public. Whatever might be the source, the work stood there and
spoke for itself in commanding terms. At length the mystery was
cleared. A shrewd Yorkshireman guessed and published the truth,
and the curious world knew that the author of 'Jane Eyre' was the
daughter of a clergyman in the little village of Haworth, and that
the literary sensation of the day found its source in a nervous,
shrinking, awkward, plain, delicate young creature of thirty-one
years of age, whose life, with the exception of two years, had been
spent on the bleak and dreary moorlands of Yorkshire, and for the
most part in the narrow confines of a grim gray stone parsonage.
There she had lived a pinched and meagre little life, full of sadness
and self-denial, with two sisters more delicate than herself, a dis-
solute brother, and a father her only parent,- a stern and forbidding
father. This was no genial environment for an author, even if help-
ful to her vivid imagination. Nor was it a temporary condition,
it was a permanent one. Nearly all the influences in Charlotte
Bronté's life were such as these, which would seem to cramp if
not to stifle sensitive talent. Her brother Branwell (physically
weaker than herself, though unquestionably talented, and for a time
the idol and hope of the family) became dissipated, irresponsible,
untruthful, and a ne'er-do-weel, and finally yielding to circumstances,
ended miserably a life of failure.
But Charlotte Bronté's nature was one of indomitable courage,
that circumstances might shadow but could not obscure. Out of the
meagre elements of her narrow life she evolved works that stand
among the imperishable things of English literature. It is a paradox
that finds its explanation only in a statement of natural sources,
primitive, bardic, the sources of the early epics, the sources of such
epics as Cædmon and Beowulf bore. She wrote from a sort of
necessity; it was in obedience to the commanding authority of an
extraordinary genius,-a creative power that struggled for expres-
sion, and much of her work deserves in the best and fullest sense
the term "inspired. "
The facts of her life are few in number, but they have a direct
and significant bearing on her work. She was born at Thornton,
in the parish of Bradford, in 1816. Four years later her father
moved to Haworth, to the parsonage now indissolubly associated
with her name, and there Mr. Bronté entered upon a long period
――――――
## p. 2383 (#585) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2383
of pastorate service, that only ended with his death. Charlotte's
mother was dead. In 1824 Charlotte and two older sisters, Maria
and Elizabeth, went to a school at Cowan's Bridge. It was an insti-
tution for clergymen's children, a vivid picture of which appears in
'Jane Eyre. ' It was so badly managed and the food was so poor
that many of the children fell sick, among them Maria Bronté, who
died in 1825.
Elizabeth followed her a few months later, and Char-
lotte returned to Haworth, where she remained for six years, then
went to school at Roe Head for a period of three years.
She was
offered the position of teacher by Miss Wooler, the principal at Roe
Head, but considering herself unfit to teach, she resolved to go to
Brussels to study French. She spent two years there, and it was
there that her intimate and misconstrued friendship for M. Heger
developed. The incidents of that period formed the material of a
greater portion of her novel 'Villette,' filled twenty-two volumes of
from sixty to one hundred pages of fine writing, and consisted of
some forty complete novelettes or other stories and childish "maga-
zines. "
On returning to Haworth, she endeavored, together with her sister
Emily, to establish a school at their home. But pupils were not to
be had, and the outlook was discouraging. Two periods of service
as governess, and the ill health that had followed, had taught Char-
lotte the danger that threatened her. Her experiences as a governess
in the Sedgwick family were pictured by-and-by in Jane Eyre. ' In
a letter to Miss Ellen Nussey, written at this time, she gives a dark
vignette of her situation.
With her two sisters Emily and Anne she lived a quiet and
retired life. The harsh realities about them, the rough natures of
the Yorkshire people, impelled the three sisters to construct in their
home an ideal world of their own, and in this their pent-up natures
found expression. Their home was lonely and gloomy. Mr. Clement
K. Shorter, in his recent study of the novelist and her family, says
that the house is much the same to-day, though its immediate sur-
roundings are brightened. He writes:
"One day Emily confided to Charlotte that she had written some
verses. Charlotte answered with a similar confidence, and then Anne
acknowledged that she too had been secretly writing. This mutual
confession brought about a complete understanding and sympathy,
and from that time on the sisters worked together-reading their
literary productions to one another and submitting to each other's
criticism. "
This was however by no means Charlotte's first literary work.
She has left a catalogue of books written by her between 1829 and
1830. Her first printed work however appeared in a volume of 'Poems'
## p. 2384 (#586) ###########################################
2384
BRONTE SISTERS
by Acton, Ellis, and Currer Bell, published in 1846 at the expense of
the authors. Under these names the little book of the Bronté sisters
went forth to the world, was reviewed with mild favor in some few
periodicals, and was lost to sight.
Then came a period of novel-writing. As a result, Emily Bronté's
'Wuthering Heights,' Anne Bronté's 'Agnes Grey,' and Charlotte
Bronté's The Professor' set out together to find a publisher. The
last-named was unsuccessful; but on the day it was returned to her,
Charlotte Bronté began writing Jane Eyre. ' That first masterpiece
was shaped during a period of sorrow and discouragement. Her
father was ill and in danger of losing his eyesight. Her brother
Branwell was sinking into the slough of disgrace. No wonder 'Jane
Eyre' is not a story of sunshine and roses. She finished the story
in 1847. and it was accepted by the publishers promptly upon exam-
ination.
After its publication and the sensation produced, Charlotte Bronté
continued her literary work quietly, and unaffected by the furore she
had aroused. A few brief visits to London, where attempts were
made to lionize her, - very much to her distaste, - a few literary
friendships, notably those with Thackeray, George Henry Lewes, Mrs.
Gaskell, and Harriet Martineau, were the only features that distin-
guished her literary life from the simple life she had always led and
continued to lead at Haworth. She was ever busy, if not ever at her
desk. Success had come; she was sane in the midst of it. She
wrote slowly and only as she felt the impulse, and when she knew
she had found the proper impression. In 1849 Shirley' was pub-
lished. In 1853 appeared 'Villette,' her last finished work, and the
one considered by herself the best.
In 1854 she married her father's curate, Mr. A. B. Nicholls. She
had lost her brother Branwell and her two sisters Emily and Anne.
Sorrow upon sorrow had closed like deepening shadows about her.
All happiness in life for her had apparently ended, when this mar-
riage brought a brief ray of sunshine. It was a happy union, and
seemed to assure a period of peace and rest for the sorely tried soul.
Only a few short months, however, and fate, as if grudging her even
the bit of happiness, snapped the slender threads of her life and the
whole sad episode of her existence was ended. She died March 31st,
1855, leaving her husband and father to mourn together in the lonely
parsonage. She left a literary fragment - the story entitled 'Emma,'
which was published with an introduction by Thackeray.
Such are the main facts of this reserved life of Charlotte Bronté.
Are they dull and commonplace? Some of them are indeed inexpress-
ibly sad. Tragedy is beneath all the bitter chronicle. The sadness
of her days can be appreciated by all who read her books. Through
## p. 2385 (#587) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2385
all her stories there is an intense note, especially in treating the
pathos of existence, that is unmistakably subjective. There is a
keen perception of the darker depths of human nature that could
have been revealed to a human heart only by suffering and sorrow.
She did not allow sadness, however, to crush her spirit. She was
neither morbid nor melancholy, but on the contrary Charlotte was
cheerful and pleasant in disposition and manner. She was a loving
sister and devoted daughter, patient and obedient to a parent who
afterwards made obedience a severe hardship. There were other
sides to her character. She was not always calmn. She was not
ever tender and a maker of allowances. But who is such? And she
had good reason to be impatient with the world as she found it.
Her character and disposition are partially reflected in 'Jane
Eyre. ' The calm, clear mind, the brave, independent spirit are
there. But a fuller and more accurate picture of her character may
be found in Lucy Snowe, the heroine of 'Villette. ' Here we find
especially that note of hopelessness that predominated in Charlotte's
character. Mrs. Gaskell, in her admirable biography of Charlotte
Bronté, has called attention to this absence of hope in her nature.
Charlotte indeed never allowed herself to look forward to happy
issues. She had no confidence in the future. The pressure of grief
apparently crushed all buoyancy of expectation. It was in this
attitude that when literary success greeted her, she made little of it,
scarcely allowing herself to believe that the world really set a high
value on her work. Throughout all the excitement that her books
produced, she was almost indifferent. Brought up as she had been
to regard literary work as something beyond the proper limits of
her sex, she never could quite rid herself of the belief that in writing
successfully, she had made of herself not so much a literary figure
as a sort of social curiosity. Nor was that idea wholly foreign to her
time.
Personally Charlotte Bronté was not unattractive. Though some-
what too slender and pale, and plain of feature, she had a pleasant
expression, and her homelier features were redeemed by a strong
massive forehead, luxuriant glossy hair, and handsome eyes. Though
she had little faith in her powers of inspiring affection, she attracted
people strongly and was well beloved by her friends. That she
could stir romantic sentiment too was attested by the fact that she
received and rejected three proposals of marriage from as many
suitors, before her acceptance of Mr. Nicholls.
Allusion has been made to the work of Charlotte's two sisters,
Emily and Anne. Of the two Emily is by far the more remarkable,
revealing in the single novel we have from her pen a genius as dis-
tinct and individual as that of her more celebrated sister. Had she
IV-150
## p. 2386 (#588) ###########################################
2386
BRONTÉ SISTERS
lived, it is more than likely that her literary achievements would
have rivaled Charlotte's.
Emily Bronté has always been something of a puzzle to biogra-
phers. She was eccentric, an odd mixture of bashful reserve and
unexpected spells of frankness, sweet, gentle, and retiring in disposi-
tion, but possessed of great courage. She was two years younger
than Charlotte, but taller. She was slender, though well formed, and
was pale in complexion, with great gray eyes of remarkable beauty.
Emily's literary work is to be found in the volume of 'Poems of her
sisters, her share in that work being considered superior in imaginat-
ive quality and in finish to that of the others; and in the novel
'Wuthering Heights,' a weird, horrid story of astonishing power, writ-
ten when she was twenty-eight years of age. Considered purely as an
imaginative work, Wuthering Heights' is one of the most remarkable
stories in English literature, and is worthy to be ranked with the
works of Edgar A. Poe. Many will say that it might better not have
been written, so utterly repulsive is it, but others will value it as a
striking, though distorted, expression of unmistakable genius. It is
a ghastly and gruesome creation. Not one bright ray redeems it.
It deals with the most evil characters and the most evil phases of
human experience. But it fascinates. Heathcliff, the chief figure in
the book, is one of the greatest villains in fiction, an abhorrent
creature, strange, monstrous, Frankensteinesque.
Anne Bronté is known by her share in the book of Poems' and
by two novels, Agnes Gray' and 'The Tenant of Wildfell Hall,'
both of which are disappointing. The former is based on the
author's experiences as a governess, and is written in the usual
placid style of romances of the time. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall'
found its suggestion in the wretched career of Branwell Bronté, and
presents a sad and depressing picture of a life of degradation. The
book was not a success, and would no doubt have sunk long ago
into oblivion but for its association with the novels of Emily and
Charlotte.
<
-
In studying the work of Charlotte Bronté, the gifted older sister
of the group, one of the first of the qualities that impress the reader
is her actual creative power. To one of her imaginative power, the
simplest life was sufficient, the smallest details a fund of material.
Mr. Swinburne has called attention to the fact that Charlotte Bronté's
characters are individual creations, not types constructed out of ele-
ments gathered from a wide observation of human nature, and that
they are real creations; that they compel our interest and command
our assent because they are true, inevitably true. Perhaps no better
example of this individualism could be cited than Rochester. The
character is unique. It is not a type, nor has it even a prototype,
## p. 2387 (#589) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2387
like so many of Charlotte Bronté's characters. Gossip insisted at one
time that the author intended to picture Thackeray in Rochester, but
this is groundless. Rochester is an original creation. The character
of Jane Eyre, too, while reflecting something of the author's nature,
was distinctly individual; and it is interesting to note here that with
Jane Eyre came a new heroine into fiction, a woman of calm, clear
reason, of firm positive character, and what was most novel, a plain
woman, a homely heroine.
་ "Why is it," Charlotte had once said, "that heroines must always
be beautiful ? » The hero of romance was always noble and hand-
some, the heroine lovely and often insipid, and the scenes set in an
atmosphere of exaggerated idealism. Against this idealism Charlotte
Bronté revolted. Her effort was always toward realism.
In her realism she reveals a second characteristic scarcely less
marked than her creative powers,—an extraordinary faculty of obser-
vation. She saw the essence, the spirit of things, and the simplest
details of life revealed to her the secrets of human nature. What
she had herself seen and felt - the plain rugged types of Yorkshire
character, the wild scenery of the moorlands—she reflected with liv-
ing truth. She got the real fact out of every bit of material in
humanity and nature that her simple life afforded her. And where
her experience could not afford her the necessary material, she drew
upon some mysterious resources in her nature, which were appar-
ently not less reliable than actual experience. On being asked once
how she could describe so accurately the effects of opium as she
does in Villette,' she replied that she knew nothing of opium, but
that she had followed the process she always adopted in cases of
this kind. She had thought intently on the matter for many a night
before falling asleep; till at length, after some time, she waked in
the morning with all clear before her, just as if she had actually
gone through the experience, and then could describe it word for
word as it happened.
Her sensitiveness to impressions of nature was exceedingly keen.
She had what Swinburne calls "an instinct for the tragic use of
landscape. " By constant and close observation during her walks
she had established a fellowship with nature in all her phases; learn-
ing her secrets from the voices of the night, from the whisper of
the trees, and from the eerie moaning of the moorland blasts. She
studied the cold sky, and had watched the "coming night-clouds
trailing low like banners drooping. "
Other qualities that distinguish her work are purity, depth and
ardor of passion, and spiritual force and fervor. Her genius was
lofty and noble, and an exalted moral quality predominates in her
stories. She was ethical as sincerely as she was emotional.
## p. 2388 (#590) ###########################################
2388
BRONTÉ SISTERS
We have only to consider her technique, in which she is character-
istically original. This originality is noticeable especially in her use
of words. There is a sense of fitness that often surprises the reader.
Words at times in her hands reveal a new power and significance.
In the choice of words Charlotte Bronté was scrupulous. She believed
that there was just one word fit to express the idea or shade of
meaning she wished to convey, and she never admitted a substitute,
sometimes waiting days until the right word came. Her expressions
are therefore well fitted and forcible. Though the predominant key
is a serious one, there is nevertheless considerable humor in Charlotte
Bronté's work. In 'Shirley' especially we find many happy scenes,
and much wit in repartee. And yet, with all these merits, one will
find at times her style to be lame, stiff, and crude, and even when
strongest, occasionally coarse. Not infrequently she is melodramatic
and sensational. But through it all there is that pervading sense of
reality and it redeems these defects.
Of the unusual, the improbable, the highly colored in Charlotte
Bronté's books we shall say little. In criticizing works so true to life
and nature as these, one should not be hasty.
We feel the presence
of a seer. Some one once made an objection in Charlotte Bronté's
presence to that part of 'Jane Eyre' in which she hears Rochester's
voice calling to her at a great crisis in her life, he being many miles
distant from her at the time. Charlotte caught her breath and replied
in a low voice: "But it is a true thing; it really happened. ” And
so it might be said of Charlotte Bronté's work as a whole:- "It is a
true thing; it really happened. "
## p. 2389 (#591) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2389
JANE EYRE'S WEDDING DAY
From Jane Eyre'
SOP
OPHIE came at seven to dress me. She was very long indeed
in accomplishing her task; so long that Mr. Rochester-
grown, I suppose, impatient of my delay-sent up to ask
why I did not come. She was just fastening my veil (the plain
square of blonde, after all) to my hair with a brooch; I hurried
from under her hands as soon as I could.
"Stop! " she cried in French. "Look at yourself in the mir
ror; you have not taken one peep. "
So I turned at the door. I saw a robed and veiled figure, so
unlike my usual self that it seemed almost the image of a stran-
ger.
"Jane!
" called a voice, and I hastened down. I was received
at the foot of the stairs by Mr. Rochester. "Lingerer," he said,
"my brain is on fire with impatience; and you tarry so long! "
He took me into the dining-room, surveyed me keenly all
over, pronounced me "fair as a lily, and not only the pride of
his life, but the desire of his eyes"; and then, telling me he
would give me but ten minutes to eat some breakfast, he rang
the bell. One of his lately hired servants, a footman, answered it.
"Is John getting the carriage ready? »
"Yes, sir. "
"Is the luggage brought down? "
"They are bringing it down, sir. "
"Go you to the church; see if Mr. Wood" (the clergyman)
"and the clerk are there; return and tell me. "
―
The church, as the reader knows, was but just beyond the
gates; the footman soon returned.
"Mr. Wood is in the vestry, sir, putting on his surplice. "
"And the carriage? "
"The horses are harnessing. "
"We shall not want it to go to church; but it must be ready
the moment we return all the boxes and luggage arranged and
strapped on, and the coachman in his seat. "
"Yes, sir. "
"Jane, are you ready? "
I rose.
There were no groomsmen, no bridesmaids, no rela-
tives to wait for or marshal; none but Mr. Rochester and I.
## p. 2390 (#592) ###########################################
BRONTE SISTERS
2390
Mrs. Fairfax stood in the hall as we passed. I would fain have
spoken to her, but my hand was held by a grasp of iron; I was
hurried along by a stride I could hardly follow; and to look at
Mr. Rochester's face was to feel that not a second of delay would
be tolerated for any purpose. I wondered what other bridegroom
ever looked as he did-so bent up to a purpose, so grimly reso-
lute; or who, under such steadfast brows, ever revealed such
flaming and flashing eyes.
I know not whether the day was fair or foul; in descending
the drive I gazed neither on sky nor earth; my heart was with
my eyes, and both seemed migrated into Mr. Rochester's frame.
I wanted to see the invisible thing on which, as we went along,
he appeared to fasten a glance fierce and fell. I wanted to feel
the thoughts whose force he seemed breasting and resisting.
At the churchyard wicket he stopped; he discovered I was
quite out of breath.
"Am I cruel in my love? " he said. "Delay an instant; lean
on me, Jane. "
And now I can recall the picture of the gray old house of
God rising calm before me, of a rook wheeling around the steeple,
of a ruddy morning sky beyond. I remember something, too, of
the green grave-mounds; and I have not forgotten, either, two
figures of strangers, straying among the low hillocks, and reading
the mementos graven on the few mossy headstones. I noticed
them because as they saw us they passed around to the back of
the church; and I doubted not they were going to enter by the
side aisle door and witness the ceremony. By Mr. Rochester
they were not observed; he was earnestly looking at my face,
from which the blood had, I dare say, momentarily fled; for I
felt my forehead dewy and my cheeks and lips cold. When I
rallied, which I soon did, he walked gently with me up the path
to the porch.
We entered the quiet and humble temple; the priest waited
in his white surplice at the lowly altar, the clerk beside him. All
was still; two shadows only moved in a remote corner. My con-
jecture had been correct; the strangers had slipped in before us,
and they now stood by the vault of the Rochesters, their backs
toward us, viewing through the rails the old time-stained marble
tomb, where a kneeling angel guarded the remains of Damer de
Rochester, slain at Marston Moor in the time of the civil wars,
and of Elizabeth his wife.
## p. 2391 (#593) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2391
Our place was taken at the communion-rails. Hearing a cau-
tious step behind me, I glanced over my shoulder; one of the
strangers a gentleman, evidently-was advancing up the chancel.
The service began. The explanation of the intent of matrimony
was gone through: and then the clergyman came a step farther
forward, and bending slightly toward Mr. Rochester, went on:-
"I require and charge you both (as ye will answer at the
dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be
disclosed) that if either of you know any impediment why ye
may not lawfully be joined together in matrimony, ye do now
confess it; for be ye well assured that so many as are coupled
together otherwise than God's word doth allow are not joined
together by God, neither is their matrimony lawful. "
He paused, as the custom is.
sentence ever broken by reply?
When is the pause after that
Not, perhaps, once in a hun-
dred years.
And the clergyman, who had not lifted his eyes
from his book, and had held his breath but for a moment, was
proceeding; his hand was already stretched toward Mr. Roches-
ter, as his lips unclosed to ask, "Wilt thou have this woman for
thy wedded wife? "- when a distinct and near voice said, « The
marriage cannot go on: I declare the existence of an impedi-
ment. "
-
The clergyman looked up at the speaker and stood mute:
the clerk did the same; Mr. Rochester moved slightly, as if an
earthquake had rolled under his feet; taking a firmer footing,
and not turning his head or eyes, he said, "Proceed! "
Profound silence fell when he had uttered that word, with
deep but low intonation. Presently Mr. Wood said, "I cannot
proceed without some investigation into what has been asserted,
and evidence of its truth or falsehood. "
"The ceremony is quite broken off," subjoined the voice.
behind us. "I am in a condition to prove my allegation; an
insuperable impediment to this marriage exists. "
Mr. Rochester heard, but heeded not; he stood stubborn and
rigid; making no movement but to possess himself of my hand.
What a hot and strong grasp he had! - and how like quarried
marble was his pale, firm, massive front at this moment! How
his eye shone, still, watchful, and yet wild beneath!
Mr. Wood seemed at a loss. «< 'What is the nature of the
impediment? " he asked. Perhaps it may be got over
«<
explained away? "
## p. 2392 (#594) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2392
"Hardly," was the answer: I have called it insuperable, and
I speak advisedly. "
The speaker came forward and leaned on the rails.
He con-
tinued, uttering each word distinctly, calmly, steadily, but not
loudly.
"It simply consists in the existence of a previous marriage.
Mr. Rochester has a wife now living. "
My nerves vibrated to those low-spoken words as they had
never vibrated to thunder; my blood felt their subtle violence as
it had never felt frost or fire; but I was collected, and in no
danger of swooning. I looked at Mr. Rochester; I made him look
at me. His whole face was colorless rock; his eye was both
spark and flint. He disavowed nothing; he seemed as if he
would defy all things. Without speaking, without smiling, with-
out seeming to recognize in me a human being, he only twined
my waist with his arm and riveted me to his side.
"Who are you? " he asked of the intruder.
<< My name is Briggs, a solicitor of
"And you would thrust on me a wife? "
Street, London. "
"I would remind you of your lady's existence, sir, which the
law recognizes if you do not. "
"Favor me with an account of her- with her name, her par-
entage, her place of abode. "
"Certainly. " Mr. Briggs calmly took a paper from his pocket,
and read out in a sort of official, nasal voice:-
___________________________
_________
"
"I affirm nd can prove that on the 20th of October, A. D.
>> (a date of fifteen years back), "Edward Fairfax Roches-
ter, of Thornfield Hall, in the county of
and of Ferndean
Manor, in —shire, England, was married to my sister, Bertha
Antoinetta Mason, daughter of Jonas Mason, merchant, and of
Antoinetta his wife, a Creole, at church, Spanish Town,
Jamaica. The record of the marriage will be found in the regis-
ter of that church-a copy of it is now in my possession.
Signed, Richard Mason. "
"That, if a genuine document, may prove I have been mar-
ried, but it does not prove that the woman mentioned therein as
my wife is still living. "
«< She was living three months ago," returned the lawyer.
"How do you know? "
"I have a witness to the fact whose testimony even you, sir,
will scarcely controvert. "
## p. 2393 (#595) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2393
"Produce him- or go to hell! »
"I will produce him first-he is on the spot: Mr. Mason,
have the goodness to step forward. ”
Mr. Rochester, on hearing the name, set his teeth: he expe-
rienced, too, a sort of strong convulsive quiver; near to him as
I was, I felt the spasmodic movement of fury or despair run
through his frame.
The second stranger, who had hitherto lingered in the back-
ground, now drew near; a pale face looked over the solicitor's
shoulder-yes, it was Mason himself. Mr. Rochester turned and
glared at him. His eye, as I have often said, was a black eye-
it had now a tawny, nay, a bloody light in its gloom; and his
face flushed-olive cheek and hueless forehead received a glow,
as from spreading, ascending heart-fire; and he stirred, lifted
his strong arm; he could have struck Mason-dashed him on
the church floor-shocked by ruthless blow the breath from his
body; but Mason shrank away, and cried faintly, "Good God! "
Contempt fell cool on Mr. Rochester-his passion died as if
a blight had shriveled it up; he only asked, "What have you
to say? "
An inaudible reply escaped Mason's white lips.
"The devil is in it if you cannot answer distinctly. I again
demand, what have you to say? "
"Sir-sir," interrupted the clergyman, "do not forget you are
in a sacred place. " Then addressing Mason, he inquired gently,
"Are you aware, sir, whether or not this gentleman's wife is
still living? "
>>
"Courage," urged the lawyer; "speak out.
"She is now living at Thornfield Hall," said Mason, in more
articulate tones. "I saw her there last April. I am her brother. "
"At Thornfield Hall! " ejaculated the clergyman. "Impos-
sible! I am an old resident in this neighborhood, sir, and I
never heard of a Mrs. Rochester at Thornfield Hall. "
I saw a grim smile contort Mr. Rochester's lip, and he mut-
tered, "No, by God! I took care that none should hear of it, or
of her under that name. " He mused; for ten minutes he held
counsel with himself: he formed his resolve, and announced it:-
"Enough; all shall bolt out at once, like a bullet from the bar-
rel. Wood, close your book and take off your surplice; John
Green" (to the clerk) "leave the church: there will be no wed-
ding to-day. " The man obeyed.
## p. 2394 (#596) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2394
Mr. Rochester continued hardily and recklessly:- "Bigamy is
an ugly word! I meant, however, to be a bigamist; but fate has
out-manœuvred me, or Providence has checked me- perhaps the
last. I am little better than a devil at this moment; and as my
pastor there would tell me, deserve no doubt the sternest judg-
ments of God, even to the quenchless fire and deathless worm.
"Gentlemen, my plan is broken up! what this lawyer and his
client say is true: I have been married, and the woman to whom
I was married lives! You say you never heard of a Mrs. Roch-
ester at the house up yonder, Wood; but I dare say you have many
a time inclined your ear to gossip about the mysterious lunatic
kept there under watch and ward. Some have whispered to you
that she is my bastard half-sister; some, my cast-off mistress: I
now inform you that she is my wife, whom I married fifteen
years ago - Bertha Mason by name; sister of this resolute per-
sonage who is now, with his quivering limbs and white cheeks,
showing you what a stout heart men may bear. Cheer up, Dick!
never fear me! I'd almost as soon strike a woman as you.
Bertha Mason is mad; and she came of a mad family - idiots
and maniacs through three generations! Her mother, the Creole,
was both a mad-woman and a drunkard! as I found out after
I had wed the daughter; for they were silent on family secrets
before. Bertha, like a dutiful child, copied her parent in both
points. I had a charming partner-pure, wise, modest; you can
fancy I was a happy man. I went through rich scenes! Oh! my
experience has been heavenly, if you only knew it! But I owe
you no further explanation. Briggs, Wood, Mason, I invite you
all to come up to the house and visit Mrs. Poole's patient, and
my wife! You shall see what sort of a being I was cheated into
espousing, and judge whether or not I had a right to break the
compact, and seek sympathy with something at least human.
This girl," he continued, looking at me, "knew no more than
you, Wood, of the disgusting secret: she thought all was fair and
legal, and never dreamed that she was going to be entrapped
into a feigned union with a defrauded wretch, already bound to
a bad, mad, and imbruted partner! Come, all of you, follow. "
Still holding me fast, he left the church: the three gentle-
men came after. At the front door of the hall we found the
carriage.
-
"Take it back to the coach-house, John," said Mr. Rochester,
coolly: "it will not be wanted to-day. "
## p. 2395 (#597) ###########################################
BRONTÉ SISTERS
2395
At our entrance, Mrs. Fairfax, Adèle, Sophie, Leah, advanced
to meet and greet us.
-
"To the right-about - every soul! " cried the master: "away
with your congratulations! Who wants them? Not I! they are
fifteen years too late! "
He passed on and ascended the stairs, still holding my hand,
and still beckoning the gentlemen to follow him; which they did.
We mounted the first staircase, passed up the gallery, proceeded
to the third story: the low black door, opened by Mr. Roches-
ter's master-key, admitted us to the tapestried room, with its
great bed and its pictorial cabinet.
"You know this place, Mason," said our guide; "she bit and
stabbed you here. ”
He lifted the hangings from the wall, uncovering the second
door; this too he opened. In a room without a window there
burned a fire, guarded by a high and strong fender, and a lamp
suspended from the ceiling by a chain. Grace Poole bent over
the fire, apparently cooking something in a saucepan. In the
deep shade, at the further end of the room, a figure ran back-
ward and forward. What it was, whether beast or human being,
one could not at first sight tell; it groveled, seemingly, on all
fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal;
but it was covered with clothing; and a quantity of dark grizzled
hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face.
"Good morning, Mrs. Poole," said Mr. Rochester. "How are
you? and how is your charge to-day? "
"We're tolerable, sir, I thank you," replied Grace, lifting the
boiling mess carefully on to the hob: "rather snappish, but not
'rageous. "
A fierce cry seemed to give the lie to her favorable report:
the clothed hyena rose up, and stood tall on its hind feet.
"Ah, sir, she sees you! " exclaimed Grace: "you'd better not
stay. "
"Only a few moments, Grace; you must allow me a few mo-
ments. "
"Take care then, sir! for God's sake, take care! "
The maniac bellowed; she parted her shaggy locks from her
visage, and gazed wildly at her visitors. I recognized well that
purple face-those bloated features. Mrs.
