Presently the door opened, and in came a superannuated mastiff, followed by an old gentleman very like Miss Bronte, who shook hands with us, and then went to call his daughter. A long interval, during which we coaxed the old dog, and looked at a picture of Miss Bronte, by Richmond, the solitary ornament of the room, looking strangely out of place on the bare walls, and at the books on the little shelves, most of them evidently the gift of the authors since Miss Bronte's celebrity. Presently she came in, and welcomed us very kindly, and took me upstairs to take off my bonnet, and herself brought me water and towels. The uncarpeted stone stairs and floors, the old drawers propped on wood, were all scrupulously clean and neat. When we went into the parlour again, we began talking very comfortably, when the door opened and Mr. Bronte looked in; seeing his daughter there, I suppose he thought it was all right, and he retreated to his study on the opposite side of the passage; presently emerging again to bring W---- a country newspaper. This was his last appearance till we went. Miss Bronte spoke with the greatest warmth of Miss Martineau, and of the good she had gained from her. Well! we talked about various things; the character of the people, - about her solitude, etc., till she left the room to help about dinner, I suppose, for she did not return for an age. The old dog had vanished; a fat curly-haired dog honoured us with his company for some time, but finally manifested a wish to get out, so we were left alone. At last she returned, followed by the maid and dinner, which made us all more comfortable; and we had some very pleasant conversation, in the midst of which time passed quicker than we supposed, for at last W---- found that it was half-past three, and we had fourteen or fifteen miles before us. So we hurried off, having obtained from her a promise to pay us a visit in the spring... ------------------- "She cannot see well, and does little beside knitting. The way she weakened her eyesight was this: When she was sixteen or seventeen, she wanted much to draw; and she copied nimini-pimini copper-plate engravings out of annuals, ('stippling,' don't the artists call it?) every little point put in, till at the end of six months she had produced an exquisitely faithful copy of the engraving. She wanted to learn to express her ideas by drawing. After she had tried to draw stories, and not succeeded, she took the better mode of writing; but in so small a hand, that it is almost impossible to decipher what she wrote at this time.
I asked her whether she had ever taken opium, as the description given of its effects in Villette was so exactly like what I had experienced, - vivid and exaggerated presence of objects, of which the outlines were indistinct, or lost in golden mist, etc. She replied, that she had never, to her knowledge, taken a grain of it in any shape, but that she had followed the process she always adopted when she had to describe anything which had not fallen within her own experience; she had thought intently on it for many and many a night before falling to sleep, - wondering what it was like, or how it would be, - till at length, sometimes after the progress of her story had been arrested at this one point for weeks, she wakened up in the morning with all clear before her, as if she had in reality gone through the experience, and then could describe it, word for word, as it had happened. I cannot account for this psychologically; I only am sure that it was so, because she said it. ----------------------She thought much of her duty, and had loftier and clearer notions of it than most people, and held fast to them with more success. It was done, it seems to me, with much more difficulty than people have of stronger nerves, and better fortunes. All her life was but labour and pain; and she never threw down the burden for the sake of present pleasure. I don't know what use you can make of all I have said. I have written it with the strong desire to obtain appreciation for her. Yet, what does it matter? She herself appealed to the world's judgement for her use of some of the faculties she had, - not the best, - but still the only ones she could turn to strangers' benefit. They heartily, greedily enjoyed the fruits of her labours, and then found out she was much to be blamed for possessing such faculties. Why ask for a judgement on her from such a world?"
elizabeth gaskell/charlotte bronte
: Patrick Brontë, Tyrant or Teddy Bear?
BeantwoordenVerwijderenIn fairness we should view the man as a teddy bear for next 145 years since he was viewed as a tyrant for 145 years at the start lol
It's never to be forgotten Lily Gaskell was first and last , a novelist.
She whip up several of the stories found in Brontë history and when brought to account by others , she was made to hastily clime down from the dizzy heights she scaled in purple prose
Mrs. Gaskell , the novelist, who thought Charlotte Bronte wrote " naughty books" and who thought the little books done in CB's youth, " seemed the product of near insanity " needed a villain for her novel/bio about Charlotte and she elected Rev Patrick Brontë,
Though thoroughly ill used by Gaskell , Rev Brontë , unlike others, never raised a protest in public , indeed he always came to her defense.
In private when the injustice of his portrait was brought to his attention, his attitude seemed to be a mild " novelists must have their stories "
If there was any truth to Gaskell tales about the fire breathing Irishmen sire of Genius, one would think Patrick would have violently gave her what-for at least ! lol
But Patrick understood , as few would, that this book was the price of Brontë fame. He was more than willing to pay the price. Even if his children were dead, the name would live. From total loss he wished at least some consolation
However that doesn't mean we now do not allow justice its voice today . Thanks to the work of Juliet Barker , Patrick's real portrait finally began to emerge
It was only the Victorian reverence for the institution of Marriage that saved Arthur Bell Nicholls from similar treatment in the Gaskell's book But that did not stop Gaskell from blacking Arthur's name in private at every opportunity .
Her record in this matter is shocking . She knew she greatly wronged these men, Charlotte's loved ones, and the guilt weighted on Gaskell somewhat when she spoke of her "fear" of them.
Lily did not fear the Patrick and Arthur. They were unfailing civil to her . She feared the wrong she did them ....I imagine it was quite a welcome in heaven when Mrs. Gaskell passed. . I can see Charlotte at the pearly gates with a rolling pin nearly as big as herself .
In her biography of Charlotte Bronte Mrs Gaskell makes it seem she spoke directly with the dismissed Bronte servant and she told her of Patrick's wild temper. But in a 1850 letter to Katie Winkworth, Mrs.G says she heard these tales from Lady Kay-Shuttleworth before meeting Charlotte. So the Patrick stories were in Mrs. G's head even before she meet Charlotte Bronte and these stories about Patrick were at best 3rd or fourth hand. Yet they were treated as Gospel for 150 years until Barker's book debunked them ... They now being resurrected again by Harman's
BeantwoordenVerwijderenMrs. Gaskell also told Ms. Winkworth that CB was already tainted with consumption like her sisters. This lie,(what else can it be called) started the rumors of Charlotte's being ill in 1850...which she had to refute to Mrs. Smith. Mrs.Gaskell was writing her novel about CB well before Charlotte's passing