Christmas is exactly ten days away – have you bought your presents and sent your cards yet? Perhaps you like to send one of those ‘round robin’ letters to family and friends updating them on the situation in your home. Charlotte Brontë sent something very similar to best friend Ellen (Nell) Nussey on this day in 1846, so I reproduce it for you below.
Being written by Charlotte Brontë, as masterful a letter writer as she was a novelist, this is rather better than the standard circular you might receive today. Not for Charlotte the usual platitudes, although she does provide that most English of conversation openers: an update on the weather.
We also hear how Anne Brontë is battling bravely against illness, and of how they are experiencing problems of a very different kind with brother Branwell Brontë – a man very much beholden to his demons at this time. The letter of 15th December 1846 follows:
“I hope you are not frozen up; the cold here is dreadful. I do not remember such a series of North-Pole days. England might really have taken a slide up into the Arctic Zone; the sky looks like ice; the earth is frozen; the wind is as keen as a two-edged blade. We have all had severe colds and coughs in consequence of the weather. Poor Anne has suffered greatly from asthma, but is now, we are glad to say, rather better. She had two nights last week when her cough and difficulty of breathing were painful indeed to hear and witness, and must have been most distressing to suffer; she bore it, as she bears all affliction, without one complaint, only sighing now and then when nearly worn out. She has an extraordinary heroism of endurance. I admire, but I certainly could not imitate her.
Meantime, I fear you dear Nell, must have had your fair share of miseries; the habitation of economical gentility would not be the most desirable in the world at this season – and I imagine you must often have longed to be back in your Mother’s warm room or at Brookroyd drawing-room’s comfortable fireside. Write soon again and let me know how you are.
You say I am “to tell you plenty”, what would you have me say – nothing happens at Haworth – nothing at least of a pleasant kind. One little incident occurred about a week ago to sting us to life, but it gives no more pleasure for you to hear it than it did for us to witness – you will scarcely thank me for adverting to it.
It was merely the arrival of a Sheriff’s Officer on a visit to Branwell – inviting him either to pay his debts or take a trip to York. Of course his debts had to be paid – it is not agreeable to lose money time after time in this way but it is ten times worse to witness the shabbiness of his behaviour on such occasions. But where is the use of dwelling on this subject, it will make him no better.
I am glad to hear that Mary Hurst is likely to marry well – is her intended a clergyman? I have not heard any further tidings from Mary Taylor. I send you the last French newspaper, several have missed coming – I don’t know why. Do you intend paying a visit to Sussex before you return home? Write again soon – your last epistle was very interesting –
I am dear Nell, Yours in spirit & flesh, CB”
North-pole days notwithstanding I hope you can join me next Sunday for another, and increasingly festive, Brontë blog post.