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Secret of Charlotte Brontë

<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> <h4>CHARLOTTE'S LAST YEAR AT BRUSSELS</h4> <h4>1842-43</h4> What were Charlotte Brontë's real relationships with Monsieur and Madame Heger when, in January 1844, she bade them, what was to prove, a final farewell? This is what has to be understood before we can read with a full sense of their true meaning the tragical impassioned Letters to M. Heger, written within the first two years of Charlotte's return to England, Letters that not only place the authoress of Jane Eyre and Villette (as a devotee, and an exponent of Romantic love) on a 'higher pedestal than ever,' but that, also, explain at what cost of personal anguish she attained as a writer her extraordinary power of translating emotions into words, that, by the impression they produce retranslate themselves to her readers' imagination and sensibilities as feelings. We have always to remember that the relationships between Charlotte and her former Professor were not those that existed between Lucy Snowe and her 'Master.' Paul Emanuel was unmarried, and in love with Lucy, although Madame Beck and the Jesuit, Père Silas,—and in the end Destiny—prevented the love-story from reaching a happy ending. Nor were these relationships, as the facts of the case reveal them, those imagined by Mr. Clement Shorter; where 'it was no cause of grief to Charlotte that M. Heger was married,' because her enthusiasm for him was that of simple hero-worship for a great man. Nor yet were these relationships, when she left Bruxelles in 1844 (nor had they been for some ten months before that date), the same relationships (of trustful friendship on the one hand and sympathetic interest on the other) that had existed between Charlotte and the Director and Directress of the Pensionnat in the Rue d'Isabelle when, a year earlier (in January 1843), Charlotte had returned to Bruxelles alone, in response to Madame's as well as Monsieur's invitation, to perfect her own French, and to receive a small salary as English Mistress. These first relationships had continued untroubled for the first few months after Charlotte's return. Thus, in March 1843, writing to her friend Ellen Nussey, she qualifies her complaints of loneliness in the Pensionnat (without the companionship she had enjoyed the previous year of her dearly loved sister Emily) by reference to the kindness of Madame, as well as of Monsieur Heger. 'As I told you before,' she writes, 'M. and Madame Heger are the only two persons in the house for whom I really experience regard and esteem; and of course I cannot be always with them, nor even very often. They told me, when I first returned, that I was to consider their sitting-room my sitting-room, and to go there whenever I was not engaged in the schoolroom. This, however, I cannot do. In the daytime it is a public room, where music-masters and mistresses are constantly passing in and out; and in the evening I will not, and ought not, to intrude on M. and Madame Heger and their children. Thus I am a good deal by myself; but that does not signify. I now regularly give English lessons to M. Heger and his brother-in-law. They get on with wonderful rapidity, especially the first.[1] So that, up to this date, no cloud is visible. But by May 29 there is a cloud above the horizon. It is no bigger than 'a man's hand' as yet: but it is charged with electricity, and one knows the storm is gathering. This time Charlotte is writing to Emily, who never liked M. Heger for her part. 'Things wag on much as usual here, only Mlle. Blanche and Mlle. Haussé are at present on a system of war without quarter. They hate each other like two cats. Mlle. Blanche frightens Mlle. Haussé by her white passions, for they quarrel venomously; Mlle. Haussé complains that when Mlle. Blanche is in a fury "elle n'a pas de lèvres." I find also that Mlle. Sophie dislikes Mlle. Blanche extremely. She says she is heartless, insincere and vindictive, which epithets, I assure you, are richly deserved. Also I find she is the regular spy of Madame Heger, to whom she reports everything. Also she invents, which I should not have thought. I am [not] richly off for companionship in these parts. Of late days, M. and Madame Heger rarely speak to me; and I really don't pretend to care a fig for anybody else in the establishment. You are not to suppose by that expression that I am under the influence of warm affection for Madame Heger. I am convinced she does not like me: why, I can't tell. (O Charlotte!) Nor do I think she herself has any definite reason for this aversion.(!) But for one thing, she cannot understand why I do not make intimate friends of Mesdames Blanche, Sophie and Haussé. M. Heger is wondrously influenced by Madame: and I should not wonder if he disapproves very much of my unamiable want of sociability. He has already given me a brief lecture on universal bienveillance; and perceiving that I don't improve in consequence, I fancy he has taken to considering me as a person to be let alone, left to the error of her ways, and consequently he has, in a great measure, withdrawn the light of his countenance; and I get on from day to day, in a Robinson Crusoe like condition, very lonely. That does not signify; in other respects I have nothing substantial to complain of, nor is even this a cause of complaint. Except for the loss of M. Heger's goodwill (if I have lost it,) I care for none of 'em.'[2] Let us see what this letter, written eight months before Charlotte left Bruxelles, tells us about the altered facts of the relationships between herself and the Directress and Director of the School. First, it is no longer Monsieur and Madame Heger who are the only people Charlotte cares about in the establishment, but it is only the goodwill of M. Heger that she would grieve to lose. And Madame Heger, who so kindly invited her to consider the family sitting-room hers, now takes no notice of her, and, Charlotte knows it, has taken an aversion to her. And when M. Heger says, 'Don't you think, "Mees Charlotte," who is lonely without her sister Emily, should be taken more notice of?' Madame Heger replies coldly: 'If "Mees" is lonely, it is her own fault. Why does she not make friends with her compeers, Mesdemoiselles Blanche, Sophie and Haussé? They are of her rank; they follow the same profession; no, this young Englishwoman is full of the pride and narrowness of her race! She is without bienveillance: she esteems herself better than others, she makes her own unhappiness; and it is not for her good to single her out amongst the other excellent under-mistresses as we have done. Let her make herself friends amongst them: let her learn to be amiable.' And M. Heger, who thinks there is something true in this, because his unalterable opinion is that it belongs to the English character, and to the Protestant creed, to be proud, narrow, unamiable and without benevolence, lectures Charlotte in this sense. Here are the facts of the situation in May 1843. Now what has happened in these few months to so change the relationships between Charlotte and Madame Heger, and to render Monsieur Heger—under Madame's influence—less friendly and helpful than he had formerly been, in his efforts to encourage the studies, and brighten by gifts of books, and talks about them, the solitude of the English teacher? It is not very difficult to discover the cause of the change, if only critics with psychological insight would employ this quality, not to fabricate problems out of false impressions, but to penetrate the true significance of the evidence that lies open to one, of the actual circumstances and facts. The circumstance that explains the fact of Madame Heger's altered conduct and feeling towards the English under-mistress whom only a few months earlier she had invited to use her own sitting-room, and to regard herself as a member of the family, and whom now she scarcely speaks to, and thinks should find companions with the other under-mistresses, is a discovery that Madame probably made, before even Charlotte herself had fully recognised what had happened. This discovery is that a change has taken place in Charlotte's sentiment towards her 'Master in literature'; a sentiment that at first had not transgressed the limits of a cordial and affectionate appreciation of his kindness and of his talent and charm and power as a teacher—approved of by Madame Heger as a becoming sentiment in this young person, convenient, 'convenable.' But as Charlotte's exclusive pleasure in M. Heger's society and conversation increases, with her distaste for the society and conversation of every one else with whom she is now in daily contact, and as the charm of his original personality grows, with her sense of the natural disparity between herself and the self-controlled Directress, whose rule of life is respect for what is convenient, in the French sense of la convenance (i.e. what is becoming) and of revolt against the vulgarity and profligacy she finds as the distinguishing characteristics of her fellow-governesses, this sentiment becomes transformed (insensibly and fatally, without her knowledge or will) into a passionate personal devotion—in other words, into a sentiment that does transgress very seriously indeed the limits of the sort of feeling that Madame Heger, in her double character of directress of a highly esteemed Pensionnat de Demoiselles, and of the wife of Monsieur Heger—esteems 'convenient,' in the case of an under-mistress in her establishment. It was not a question of ordinary jealousy at all. Madame Heger, a much more attractive woman than Charlotte Brontë in so far as her personal appearance was concerned, was absolutely convinced of the affection and fidelity of her husband, and of the entirely and exclusively professorial interest he took in assisting this clever and zealous and meritorious daughter of an evangelical Pastor, to qualify herself for a schoolmistress in her own country. It was entirely a question of the 'inconvenience'—the unbecoming character of this unfortunate infatuation, that renders it entirely intolerable; something that must be got rid of at once; but as quietly as possible, without exciting remark, and with as much consideration for this imprudent, unhappy 'Mees Charlotte' as possible. The whole affair is a misfortune, of course, 'un malheur': but what one has to do, now it has arrived, is to guard against even greater 'malheurs' for everybody concerned. For 'Mees Charlotte' herself, first of all—what a 'malheur' should this 'infatuation,' involuntary and blameless in intention, no doubt, but so utterly inconvenient, betray itself in some regrettable exhibition of feeling, most humiliating to herself, and most distressing to her only parent, the respectable widowed evangelical Pastor in Yorkshire! And then for the Pensionnat, what a 'malheur' should any gossip arise: and what sort of an effect would it produce upon the mind of parents of pupils, who most naturally would object to the knowledge of the existence even of a sentiment so inconvenient as this being brought to the knowledge of their young daughters? And confronted with these perils, Madame Heger's conclusion upon the only way of avoiding them, is really not a very unreasonable nor unkind one. It is that the sooner 'Mees Brontë' returns to her home in Yorkshire, the better for herself, and for the interests and the tranquillity of the Director and the Directress of the Pensionnat in the Rue d'Isabelle: who wish to sever their relationships with her on friendly terms; who, in the future, when she has cured herself of this unhappy extravagance (as no doubt her good sense and excellent upbringing will assist her to do) hope to renew their intercourse with her; but who, in the circumstances that have arisen, think it better all intimacy should be suspended. Nor, having formed this conclusion, was Madame Heger's method of endeavouring to force Charlotte to adopt it also, either wilfully unkind or inconsiderate. Her method was to convey forcibly to Charlotte's knowledge without any needless humiliating explanations, that she, the Directress of the Pensionnat where Charlotte was under-mistress, has penetrated the secret of her feelings towards M. Heger, and consequently that the old terms between herself and Charlotte have become impossible, and that the necessity has arisen to assert her claims and to establish the rules that must be observed in the ordering of the Pensionnat and of the staff of teachers for which she is responsible. Without discussions or recriminations in connection with the reasons for this decision, these mere reasons, well known to Miss Brontë herself, convince her that it is not convenient 'Mees' should continue a teacher, or even an inmate, in her school any more; and surely this circumstance alone should point out to 'Mees' herself, what she ought to do? Let her do this, let her take the opportunity offered her of relieving Madame Heger of the painful necessity of touching upon distressing subjects, and the secret they share shall never be made known to any one, not even to M. Heger himself, who is entirely unconscious of it. An explanation could easily be found by 'Mees' for the necessity of her return to England:—her aged father's infirmities, the establishment of the school that she is now qualified to manage, etc.—and all this matter will arrange itself quietly. To bring Charlotte to dismiss herself was Madame Heger's purpose: but in view of the slowness and reluctance of this obstinate Englishwoman to recognise what was 'becoming,' and expected from her, the immediate object became to guard against any self-betrayal by Charlotte of her state of feeling to other members of the establishment, and especially to M. Heger, whom Madame knew to be entirely innocent of any warm feeling resembling romantic sentiment for the homely but intelligent and zealous Englishwoman, whose progress under his instruction and capacity for appreciating good literature made her interesting to him as a pupil, whilst her meritorious courage in working to qualify herself to earn her own bread as an instructress herself claimed his approval—but whom he had not as yet suspected of a tragical passion for him. And Madame Heger esteemed it most undesirable he should ever make the discovery. And therefore her immediate care was to guard against the occasion of such a revelation being given: and therefore she endeavours to stop private lessons given by M. Heger to Charlotte, or English lessons given by her in return; therefore too, she works to prevent any intercourse or meetings between the Professor and this particular pupil, outside of the presence of spectators and listeners, whose unsympathetic but attentive eyes and ears will impose restraint upon this extravagant Charlotte; so little under the control of good sense and respect for what is becoming. But now these tactics followed by Madame Heger, although from her own point of view they were as considerate and judicious as the interests of Charlotte, the Pensionnat, and 'convenience' permitted, and although no personal jealousy, vindictiveness nor malice entered into them, nevertheless from Charlotte's point of view were intolerable and cruel; and the torments they inflicted upon her during the long seven months she lived through this incessant conflict with Madame Heger, under cover of an outer show of politeness on both sides, were precisely the same torments of cheated expectancy, suspense, thwarted hope, disappointments, that she has painted in Villette, and the Professor, as inflicted upon the hapless governesses Lucy Snowe and Frances Henri, by those two cruel, pitiless head-mistresses Madame Beck and Mlle. Zoraïde Reuter. Yes:—but there was all the difference in the world between the circumstances arranged by the authoress in her two novels, and the circumstances as a mischievous destiny had entangled them in the true history. In the stories made to please her fancy by Charlotte, we have in Villette Paul Emanuel unmarried—and in love with Lucy Snowe; but by the base contrivances of Madame Beck, a Jesuit priest, Père Silas, has been called in, to stir up superstitious dread of allying himself with a heretic in the mind of the good Catholic that Paul was, and so prevent him from carrying through certain tentative indications of the state of his affections that have awakened and justified the passionate but timid and self-despising Lucy Snowe. Nothing then can be more plain than the position here—Paul Emanuel and Lucy Snowe are being divided, and trouble is being created, by a horrid, jealous, mischievous Madame Beck, who wants Paul Emanuel to marry her, although she knows he loves Lucy, and that Lucy is in love with him, but too little self-confident, too feeble, in her dependent position, to assert her claims. In the Professor it is much the same case, only Mlle. Zoraïde Reuter is more of a cat than Madame Beck, and less an evil genius, who demands admiration for her cleverness whilst Mlle. Zoraïde, who makes coarse love to the Professor, provokes contempt. Well but now here is the real case. Madame Heger knows that here is the English daughter of an Evangelical Pastor, who (although she is old enough to look after herself), is nevertheless under her (Madame's) protection, and behold this young woman has taken it into her head to conceive a most inconvenient infatuation for her husband, M. Heger! Now how is one to meet this situation in the best way for everybody? Happily the secret lies between herself and Mees Charlotte: it rests with Mees to take herself out of harm's way: and all is safe. But that is what she will not do. So here you have the position: this grown-up, obstinate Englishwoman, with her 'inconvenient' passion, always on the verge of exhibiting her sentiments in a way that may inform M. Heger—who is the best of men; most honourable, but still a man—who may or may not see how serious this is: who may tell one, 'Let me talk reason to her,' which is the last course to take! It is true, Madame will have said to herself, 'I might take matters into my hands; and since she has no sense of 'convenience' herself, I might say: 'Mees, I exact this of you: immediately you make up your trunks, and return to Yorkshire; you start to-morrow.' Yes, but what happens then? There are observations,—indignation is excited. M. Heger will say to me, 'What now is this sudden attitude you take up towards Mees? it is not just.' And if I explain, he may say: 'You imagine things; you women are not good to each other.' Or he may say: 'Let me talk to Mees Charlotte,' and then there will be attaques de nerfs—who can say? No, there is only one thing to do: as this Englishwoman has not herself any sense of 'convenience.' We must be patient until the end of the year, when her term is finished. Then she goes, arrive what may. And, meanwhile, one must support it; only she must not meet M. Heger alone: and one must constantly take precautions, in this sense, against scenes.' Well, was there anything very cruel, or hard-hearted, or vindictive, in Madame Heger's conduct? If you are a psychologist, put yourself in her place. What could she have done with this entanglement of circumstances, all menacing what she most valued, a watchful preservation of 'convenience,' most necessary in a Pensionnat de Jeunes Filles of high repute? If any one will suggest a plan that would have been more considerate to Charlotte than the one she took, I should very much like to hear what plan? Even then, in the light of what I know of Madame Heger's incapability of a deliberate desire to torture, or inflict severe punishment on any pupil, or teacher, or living thing, I should still protest confidently that in all she did—that sweet and kind old schoolmistress of mine—in the days when she was twenty years younger than when I knew her—she meant to be considerate and kind. Without attempting to decide who, between Charlotte and Madame Heger, was to blame, or whether either of them were to blame, here, at any rate, we have the conditions of feeling between these two women: each exasperated against the other, under the strain of a forced politeness, during the last seven months of Charlotte's residence in Bruxelles. No doubt, for both of them the strain was great. All this time (without saying it out aloud) Madame Heger was forcing upon Charlotte's attention, the 'inconvenience' of her presence in the Pensionnat; the necessity for her return to England. All this time Charlotte—outwardly compliant with all the demands made upon her, that keep her writing letters at Madame's dictation (in the hours when Monsieur is giving his lessons in class), that send her upon messages to the other end of Bruxelles (upon holidays when Monsieur's habit is to trim the vine above the Berceau in the garden)—all this time, Charlotte's bitter protest spoke out in the gaze she fastened on the Directress: 'Merciless woman that you are! you who have everything; who are his wife, the mother of his children, whom he loves; who will enjoy his conversation and his society, and the pleasant home you share with him, all your life; and who grudge me—I, who have nothing of all this, but who love him more—I, who in a few months must go out into the dark world, without the light his presence is to me; without the music his voice makes for me; without the delight his conversation is to my mind, and the complete satisfaction his society brings to my whole nature—and you grudge me these few months of happiness? Rich and cruel woman, who, in your selfish life possess all this, you are more cruel than Dives was to Lazarus; you grudge me even the crumbs that fall from your table.' <div class="footnote">[1] Life of C.B., p. 254. </div> <div class="footnote">[2] Life, p. 258. </div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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