My chief contribution to the Brontë controversy after the publication of the "monograph" was a lecture delivered at the Royal Institution in 1895 on Emily Brontë and the authorship of "Wuthering Heights," in which I set forth the theory that Emily had, in part, been inspired in her description of the mad Heathcliffe and his terrible ravings by the bitter experiences through which she passed as an eyewitness of her brother Branwell's last days. My theory has met with a certain amount of acceptance among Brontë students, and I still adhere to it as the most probable explanation of a literary problem of no common difficulty.
Once, somewhere between 1890 and 1896, I was compelled to take up the pen in my own defence. I read in the North American Review an article entitled "The Defamation of Charlotte Brontë," and to my great amazement found that it was a vicious attack upon my little book published more than twenty years previously! I was accused by the writer—an American lady whose name I had never heard before and have now forgotten—of having been the first to defame Charlotte Brontë, because I had been the first to point out the singular influence over her life and character which was exercised by her teacher in Brussels, M. Héger. It is now obvious to everybody that this gentleman was not only the original of the Paul Emanuel of "Villette," but was in many respects the inspiring influence in the whole of Charlotte Brontë's career as a writer. That he exercised a curious fascination over the untrained young woman who went to Brussels in order to improve her knowledge of French we know from her own declarations, nor is it surprising that a man of such genuine intellectual force should have exercised this influence over the mind of one who, until she met him, had known nothing whatever of intellectual society. It was not only my right, but my duty, as a critic to point out the important part which M. Héger had played in the development of Charlotte Brontë's genius, and there was most assuredly nothing in what I said that touched in the slightest degree the purity of her exalted character. Yet my critic in the North American Review professed to discover that I had invented the story that Charlotte had "fallen in love" with her teacher in Brussels, and abused me soundly for having degraded her by presenting her to the world in an odious light. Surely it is a mad world that can thus misconstrue obvious and innocent facts! I cannot but think, however, that the good lady of the North American Review was more anxious to figure in the great Brontë controversy than to contribute anything of value to our knowledge of the subject.
As I have said already, when I first wrote about the Brontës there were many still living who had known the sisters well. Of these Miss Nussey was the chief, and it may be of interest to repeat a few of the statements which from time to time she made to me with regard to Charlotte. One of the most striking of these was her account of the single visit which she paid to Haworth after Charlotte became the wife of Mr. Nicholls. Miss Nussey told me that she accompanied Charlotte and her husband one day on a walk over the moors. In the course of their conversation she asked Charlotte if she was writing another book. "No," replied Charlotte; "Arthur says I have no time for writing now, as I must attend to my duties as a clergyman's wife." She said it in such a tone as to convince her friend that she was not satisfied with her husband's decision, and Miss Nussey, plucking up her courage, remonstrated with him upon his refusal to allow Charlotte to exercise her great gift. Mr. Nicholls's response was short and to the point. "I did not marry Currer Bell, the novelist, but Charlotte Brontë, the clergyman's daughter. Currer Bell may fly to heaven to-morrow for anything I care." I do not vouch for the absolute truth of this story, but I give it as I heard it from Miss Nussey, and I am quite sure that when she told it to me she believed it to be true.
Charlotte must have been more attractive than the world at one time believed her to have been, for she had several offers of marriage before Mr. Nicholls appeared upon the scene as a suitor. Mrs. Smith, the mother of Mr. George Smith, her publisher, was somewhat alarmed at the possibility of her son's admiration for Charlotte's genius developing into an affection for her, and whilst very kind to the young authoress, she let her see that in her opinion Mr. Smith was much too young to become her husband. In one of her letters to Miss Nussey, Charlotte discussed this situation, and with her characteristic candour and good sense came to the conclusion that Mrs. Smith was altogether right. Her son was both too young and too brilliant, she declared, to make a fitting husband for the obscure parson's daughter. In "Villette," where the story of her own heart is told, Mrs. Smith and her son are to be found portrayed in the characters of Mr. John and his mother.
Charlotte Brontë's fame, her genius, her power, live after her in her books, and so long as those books are read will never be forgotten. But it is not her fame, her genius, her power, which are the most precious possessions she has left to us, but that sweetness and virtue, which like bright flowers bloom upon her grave and remind us of the life which lies beyond it.
CHAPTER XI.
VISITS TO THE CONTINENT.
Politics in Paris in 1877—An Oration by Gambetta—the Balloting—The
Republic Saved—Gambetta's Funeral—A Member of the Reform Club—The
Century Club—A Draught of Turpentine and Soda—The "Press Gang" at the
Reform—James Payn and William Black—George Augustus Sala and Sir John
Robinson—Disraeli's Triumph in 1878—A European Tour.
In the autumn of 1877 I went over to Paris, in order to watch the General Election of that year. It was a fateful moment in the history of France. The Royalists, and the whole of the anti-Republican forces, were bent upon overthrowing the Republic, and they looked upon President Macmahon as their tool. Thiers, the natural leader of the Republican party, had died, after a brief illness, within a few weeks of the election; and Gambetta, who had stepped into his place, was not only under prosecution for his famous "Ou se soumettre ou se démettre" speech, but was still regarded by a large section of moderate men as a wild man, a fou furieux, indeed, who could not be trusted with the fortunes of the party. Every morning the Parisians awoke to wonder whether the expected coup d'état had taken place during the night. The drama had clearly reached an exciting moment, and I thought it well to witness the dénouement for myself.
My kind friend Lord Houghton, on learning my intention, sent me a batch of introductions to many of the leading men in Paris. They included the Comte de Paris himself, M. Barthélemy Saint-Hilaire, the bosom friend of M. Thiers, and M. Blowitz, of the Times. I did not see a revolution, because none took place; but I had an excellent opportunity of watching Paris pass through a political crisis, and of witnessing the triumph of the Republic over its numerous and formidable enemies. That year (1877) was indeed the best year in the history of the Republic. It still had the support of the great mass of the public. The middle-class gave it all their aid, and the combination of Thiers and Gambetta had made the Left and Left Centre parties immensely powerful. It was interesting to watch the beginnings of the clerical reaction, beginnings which found their outward expression in the propagation of the cult of the Sacred Heart. All Paris was singing in those days, either in the original or in a parody, the hymn with the refrain, "Heaven save poor France in the name of the Sacred Heart." On the whole, the parodists were in a majority, and their parodies were just as blasphemous as one expects them to be in France.