Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-04-05

world-heart with their far-away, unknown
voices and pens; the final victory and re-
Joicings; the coming to the gray old village
of the famous and great to do honor to the
now yondrous folk of the parsonage; the
loss Of Charlotte's two sisters within one
year; her own brief and happy welded life
and untimely death: the later death Of the
sturdy old father; the death, but the other
day, in Ireland, of his surviving sister, the
last of the Bronte family; and, finally, the
grooming gossip about Charlotte's husband,
Mr.. Nichols. once the curate here. and now
a white-haired English farmer-all in so
tender way that you will more and more
love the very earth these perfect women trod.
From ones longing lettering about the
old parsonage where now the spirit of envy
and hate repels all who come pilgriming to
the former nest of genius and love; from
wanderings over the moors to which the
father and all the talented sisters were SO
passionately devoted; from dreaming about
the ancient churchyard with its dank graves
and soughing willows; and from hushed and
pensive lingering within the church by the
very spot where all these loving and loyal,
sad and tempestuous hearts are resting In
the eternal silences; it is delight, if still a
melancholy pleasure, to turn to an humble
home not a stones throw from parsonage,
church and graves, where younger cousin
of Charlotte's faithful nurse, Martha Brown,
have with dogged fidelity to a generous
sentiment gathered together many of the
scattered relics of the old Bronte household.
One of the Devoted Friends.
With marked contrast to the clerical brute
who has repeatedly declared that the name of
Bronte was hateful to him; that it was not
strangers, but a house of prayer for the
praise of God;" that the memory OF this
family represented to him merely "a recol-
lection of predecessor Incumbent" and
who has done everything in his little power
to destroy the greatest and least vestiges OF
as noble and tender personalities and inau-
ences as ever hallowed English soil; this
young man, poor man besides, Robinson
Brown, OF 123 Main street, Haworth, has
passed life of sacrifices and almost per-
sonal want to secure these precious relics
and to generously welcome all strangers
who may wish to see them.
His home is the only real Bronte shrine
in Haworth. The curate rules the village
with spiritual rod of iron, and this local
autocracy makes it treason in Haworth to
be interested in Bronte relics and memorials.
Despite it, now and then the old, old folk,
and the humble workmen of the factories,
who secretly adore the writings of Charlotte
and the memory of the noble family, steal
in here by these mute bits from the old
home, weep over them, and steal away again,
trembling from fear of discovery and pro
scription. Thus the curate maintains "a
house of prayer for the praise of God" in
the Haworth Of to-day.
How Charlotte Spent Her Time.
Mr.. Browns collection comprises few
paintings, many drawings and several speci-
mems of needlework, all done by Charlotte.
10 II of
cutter becalmed at sea in soft and humid
moonlight The pencil drawings are numer-
Gus. Three of these are remarkably true to
nature. Two are of a laughing and crying
child. The other is river bridge and a
mountain scene, full OF delicacy and feeling.
Her skill in needlework, and what would
now be termed art embroidery, was superior.
An extraordinary piece of this needlework
is o study of youthful shepherd and
shepherdess tending o flock OF moorland
sheep, the faces of all being partially laid
Charlotte in oil, done during her lifetime,
is also here.
There are several Of her letters in her
wonderfully minute and perfect chirogra-
ply; and one was particularly interesting
to ME because written TO the "old Susey" l
had seen. 1t is dated Haworth. June 13,
1848. Susey had left Haworth for little
stay at York. Miss Bronte writes:
1 was afraid that at first you would not feel
very comfortable among strangers: persons
who have lived most of their lives in quiet
little place like Haworth find vast difference
when they go to a fresh neighborhood and en-
ter the society of strangers. If you feel
troubled about anything you will not forget
who is your best help and guide in every diff
iculty, and, separated as you are for little
humbiy and faithfully entrear the protection of
your Friend and Father who is in heaven.
A Review That Hurt Her.
There is also in the collection spotted |
print dress worn by the novelist; her shawl |
and brooch, and lock of her hair given by
her husband, Mr.. Nichols, to Martha |
Brown. Several old reviews containing
notices of the Bronte family and their work. |
which were in her possession, are here. |
One, the Quarterly Reyiew for December, |
1S48, hurt her deeply. Its review of "Jane |
Eyre" refers to the author as having "horrid |
taste"
Two of the most interesting articles to be |
seen are water-color sketch by the novel
lists own hand representing her favorite dog, |
'Floss," chasing a grouse over reach of
drear moorland. and a priceless autograph
copy OF "Jane Eyre" the latter another gift
to the beloved nurse, Martha Brown. A
basket-work dolls cradle, belonging to
Charlotte, is here-all but the rockers. These
nave Deen cnlppeQ Oh ana given as me-
mentos to pilgrims from our own country.
There are also a small wooden trinket box,
containing cloak and shoe buckles, with one
or two pieces of ribbon from the novelist's
bonnet; several alahaster vases from her
room; and silk patchwork counterpane.
one among countless proofs of the dogged
patience and unconquerable pluck of the
half-blind authoress. But single article
remains as reminder OF the sad career and
miserable ending of Patrick Branwell
Bronte, the brilliant and unfortunate
brother.
Grim, gaunt. gray Haworthl Perfect as
were the lives thy sunless ways once knew;
as were the creations hewn out of
thy heart Of stone; dreary as the skies above
thy dank old walls is thy hard. stern face in
all its moods to men. One leaves thee with
3 sad and heavy heart.
EDGAR L. WAKEMAN.
MAKING MONEY rapidly