“This is a large school, in which there are about forty externes, or day-pupils, and twelve pensionnaires, or boarders. Madame Héger, the head, is a lady of precisely the same cast of mind, degree of cultivation, and quality of intellect as Miss—.
p
I think the severe points are a little softened, because she has not been disappointed, and consequently soured. In a word, she is a married instead of a maiden lady. There are three teachers in the school—Mademoiselle Blanche, Mademoiselle Sophie, and Mademoiselle Marie. The two first have no particular character. One is an old maid, and the other will be one. Mademoiselle Marie is talented and original, but of repulsive and arbitrary manners, which have made the whole school, except myself and Emily, her bitter enemies. No less than seven masters attend, to teach the different branches of education—French, Drawing, Music, Singing, Writing, Arithmetic, and German. All in the house are Catholics except ourselves, one other girl, and the gouvernante of Madame’s children, an Englishwoman, in rank something between a lady‘s-maid and a nursery governess. The difference in country and religion makes a broad line of demarcation between us and all the rest. We are completely isolated in the midst of numbers. Yet I think I am never unhappy; my present life is so delightful, so congenial to my own nature, compared to that of a governess. My time, constantly occupied, passes too rapidly. Hitherto both Emily and I have had good health, and therefore we have been able to work well. There is one individual of whom I have not yet spoken—M. Héger, the husband of Madame. He is professor of rhetoric, a man of power as to mind, but very choleric and irritable in temperament. He is very angry with me just at present, because I have written a translation which he chose to stigmatize as ‘
peu
correct
.’ He did not tell me so, but wrote the word on the margin of my book, and asked, in brief stern phrase, how it happened that my compositions were always better than my translations? adding that the thing seemed to him inexplicable. The fact is, some weeks ago, in a high-flown humour, he forbade me to use either dictionary or grammar in translating the most difficult English compositions into French. This makes the task rather arduous, and compels me every now and then to introduce an English word, which nearly plucks the eyes out of his head when he sees it. Emily and he don’t draw well together at all. Emily works like a horse, and she has had great difficulties to contend with—far greater than I have had. Indeed, those who come to a French school for instruction ought previously to have acquired a considerable knowledge of the French language, otherwise they will lose a great deal of time, for the course of instruction is adapted to natives and not to foreigners; and in these large establishments they will not change their ordinary course for one or two strangers. The few private lessons that M. Héger has vouchsafed to give us, are, I suppose, to be considered a great favour; and I can perceive they have already excited much spite and jealousy in the school.
“You will abuse this letter for being short and dreary, and there are a hundred things which I want to tell you, but I have not time. Brussels is a beautiful city. The Belgians hate the English. Their external morality is more rigid than ours. To lace the stays without a handkerchief on the neck is considered a disgusting piece of indelicacy.”
The passage in this letter where M. Héger is represented as prohibiting the use of dictionary or grammar, refers, I imagine, to the time I have mentioned, when he determined to adopt a new method of instruction in the French language, of which they were to catch the spirit and rhythm rather from the ear and the heart, as its noblest accents fell upon them, than by over-careful and anxious study of its grammatical rules. It seems to me a daring experiment on the part of their teacher; but, doubtless, he knew his ground; and that it answered is evident in the composition of some of Charlotte’s “dévoirs,”
q
written about this time. I am tempted, in illustration of this season of mental culture, to recur to a conversation which I had with M. Héger on the manner in which he formed his pupils’ style, and to give a proof of his success, by copying a “dévoir” of Charlotte’s, with his remarks upon it.
He told me that one day this summer (when the Brontës had been for about four months receiving instruction from him) he read to them Victor Hugo’s celebrated portrait of Mirabeau, “mais, dans ma leçon je me bornais à ce qui concerne Mirabeau Orateur.
5
C‘est après l’analyse de ce morçeau, considéré surtout du point de vue du fond, de la disposition, de ce qu‘on pourrait appeler la charpente qu’ont été faits les deux portraits que je vous donne.” He went on to say that he had pointed out to them the fault in Victor Hugo’s style as being exaggeration in conception, and, at the same time, he had made them notice the extreme beauty of his “nuances” of expression. They were then dismissed to choose the subject of a similar kind of portrait. This selection M. Héger always left to them; for “it is necessary,” he observed, “before sitting down to write on a subject, to have thoughts and feelings about it. I cannot tell on what subject your heart and mind have been excited. I must leave that to you.” The marginal comments, I need hardly say, are M. Heger’s; the words in italics are Charlotte’s, for which he substitutes a better form of expression, which is placed between brackets.
Imitation.
“Le 31 Juillet, 1842.
Portrait de Pierre L’Hermite.
r
Charlotte Brontë.
“De temps en temps, il parait sur la terre des hommes destines à etre les instruments [prédestinés] de grands changements, moreaux ou politiques. Quelquefois c‘est un conquérant, un Alexandre ou un Attila, qui passe comme un ouragan, et purifie l’atmosphere moral, comme 1’orage purifie l‘atmosphère physique; quelquefois, c’est un révolutionnaire, un Cromwell, ou un Robespierre, qui fait expier par un roi les vices de toute une dynastie; quelquefois c‘est un enthousiaste réligieux comme Mahométe, ou Pierre l’Ermite, qui, avec le seul levier de la pensée soulève des nations entières, les déracine et les transplante dans des climats nouveaux,
peuplant
l’Asie avec
les habitants de I‘Europe.
Pierre l’Ermite était gentilhomme de Picardie, en France. pourquoi donc n‘a-t-il passé sa vie comme les autres gentilhommes ses contemporains ont passé la leur, à table, à la chasse, dans son lit, sans s’inquiéter de Saladin, ou de ses Sarrasins? N‘est-ce pas, parcequ’ilya dans certaines natures, une ardeur [un foyer d‘activité] indomptable qui ne leur permet pas de rester inactives, qui les force à se remuer afin d’exercer les facultes puissantes, qui même en dormant sont prêtes comme Sampson à briser les nœuds qui
les retiennent?
Pourquoi cette suppression?
les fautes et
Ce detail ne convient qu‘à Pierre. Inutile, quand vous écrivez en Français.
Vous avez commencé à parler de Pierre: vous êtes entrée dans le sujet:marchez au but.
”Pierre prit la profession des armes;
si son
ardeur avait été de cette espèce [si il n‘avait eu que cette ardeur vulgaire] qui provient d’une robuste santé il aurait [c‘eut] été un brave militaire, et rien de plus; mais son ardeur était celle de l’âme, sa flamme était pure et elle s’elevait vers le ciel.
“Sans doute [II est vrai que] la jeunesse de Pierre, était [fut] troublée par passions orageuses; les natures puissantes sont extrèmes en tout, elles ne connaissent la tiédeur ni dans le bien, ni dans le mal; Pierre donc chercha d‘abord avidément la gloire què se flétrit, et les plaisirs qui trompent, mais
il fit
bientôt la découverte [bientot il s’aperçut] que ce qu’il poursuivait n’était qu’ une illusion
à laquelle il ne pourrait jamais atteindre:
il retourna donc sur ses pas, il recommença le voyage de la vie, mais cette fois il évita le chemin spacieux qui méne à la perdition et il prit le chemin étroit qui méne à la vie; puisque [comme] le trajet était long et difficile il jeta la casque et les armes du soldat, et se vêtit de l‘habit simple du moine. A la vie militaire succéda la vie monastique, car, les extremes se touchent et
chez
l’homme
sincere
la sincerité du repentir amène [necessairement à la suite] avec lui la rigueur de la penitence. [Voila donc Pierre devena moine!]
Inutile, quard vous avez dit illusion
“Mais Pierre [il] avait en lui un principe qui l‘empechait de rester long-temps inactif, ses idées, sur quel sujet qu’il soit [que ce fut] ne pouvaient pas être bornées; il ne lui suffisait pas que lui-même fût religieux, que lui-même fût convaincee de la réalité de Christianismé (sic) il fallait que toute l‘Europe que toute l’Asie partagea sa conviction et professât la croyance de la Croix. La Piété [fervente] élevée par le Genie, nourrie par la Solitude fit naitre
une
éspèce d‘inspiration [exalta son âme jusqu’a l‘inspiration] dans
son
ame, et lorsqu’il quitta sa cellule et reparut dans le monde, il portait comme Moise l’empreinte de la Divinité sur son front, et tout [tous] réconnurent en lui la veritable apôtre de la Croix.
“Mahomet n’avait jamais rémué les molles nations de l’Orient comme alors Pièrre remua les peuples austéres de l’Occident; il fallait que cette eloquence fût d’une force presque miraculeuse
qui pouvait
[presqu’elle] persuader [ait] aux rois de vendre leurs royaumes afin de
procurer
[pour avoir] des armes et des soldats
pour
aider [à offrir] à Pierre dans la guerre sainte qu’il voulait livrer aux infidéles. La puissance de Pierre [l’ErmiteJ n’était nullement une puissance physique, car la nature, ou pour mieux dire, Dieu est impartial dans la distribution de ses dons; il accorde à l’un
de ses enfants
la grace, la beauté, les perfections corporelles, à l’autre l‘esprit, la grandeur morale. Pierre donc était un homme, petit d’une physionomie peu agréable; mais il avait ce courage, cette constance, cet enthousiasme, cette energie de sentiment qui écrase toute opposition, et qui fait que la volonté d‘un, seul homme devient la loi de toute une nation. Pour se former une juste idée de l’influence qu‘exerça cet homme sur les caractères [choses] et les idées de son temps il faut se le representer au milieu de l’armee des croisées, dans son double role de prophète et de guerrier; le pauvre hermite vêtu du pauvre [de l‘humble] habit gris est la
plus puissant qu’un roi: il est
entouré d‘une [de la] multitude [abide]
une multitude qui ne voit que lui, tandis que lui, il ne voit que le ciel; ses yeux lévés semblent dire, ‘je vois Dieu et les anges. et j’ai perdu de vue la terre!
’
“Dans
ce moment le
[mais ce] pauvre habit [froc] gris est pour lui comme le manteau d‘Elijah; il l’enveloppe d’inspiration; il [Pierre] lit dans l’avenir; il voit Jerusalem delivrée; [il voit] le saint sepulchre libre; il voit le croissant argent est arraché du Temple, et l‘Oriflamme et la Croix rouge sont établi à sa place; non seulement Pierre voit ces merveilles, mais il les fait voir à tous ceux qui l’entourent, il ravive l’esperance, et le courage dans [tous ces corps epuisés de fatigues et de privations] La bataille ne sera livrée que demain, mais la victoire est décidée ce soir. Pierre a promis; et les Croisées se fient à sa parole, comme les Israelites se fiaient à celle de Moise et de Josué.”
6
As a companion portrait to this, Emily chose to depict Harold on the eve of the battle of Hastings. It appears to me, that her dévoir is superior to Charlotte’s in power and in imagination, and fully equal to it in language; and that this, in both cases, considering how little practical knowledge of French they had when they arrived at Brussels in February, and that they wrote without the aid of dictionary or grammar, is unusual and remarkable. We shall see the progress Charlotte had made, in ease and grace of style, a year later.
In the choice of subjects left to her selection, she frequently took characters and scenes from the Old Testament, with which all her writings show that she was especially familiar. The picturesqueness and colour (if I may so express it), the grandeur and breadth of its narrations, impressed her deeply. To use M. Heger’s expression, “Elle était nourrie de la Bible.”
s
After he had read De la Vigne’s poem on Joan of Arc, she chose the “Vision and Death of Moses on Mount Nebo” to write about; and, in looking over this dévoir, I was much struck with one or two of M. Héger’s remarks. After describing, in a quiet and simple manner, the circumstances under which Moses took leave of the Israelites, her imagination becomes warmed, and she launches out into a noble strain, depicting the glorious futurity of the Chosen People, as looking down upon the Promised Land, he sees their prosperity in prophetic vision. But, before reaching the middle of this glowing description, she interrupts herself to discuss for a moment the doubts that have been thrown on the miraculous relations of the Old Testament. M. Héger remarks, “When you are writing, place your argument first in cool, prosaic language; but when you have thrown the reins on the neck of your imagination, do not pull her up to reason.” Again in the vision of Moses, he sees the maidens leading forth their flocks to the wells at eventide, and they are described as wearing flowery garlands. Here the writer is reminded of the necessity of preserving a certain verisimilitude: Moses might from his elevation see mountains and plains, groups of maidens and herds of cattle, but could hardly perceive the details of dress, or the ornaments of the head.
When they had made further progress, M. Héger took up a more advanced plan, that of synthetical teaching.
7
He would read to them various accounts of the same person or event, and make them notice the points of agreement and disagreement. Where they were different, he would make them seek the origin of that difference by causing them to examine well into the character and position of each separate writer, and how they would be likely to affect his conception of truth. For instance, take Cromwell. He would read Bossuet’s description of him in the “Oraison Funèbre de la Reine d’Angleterre,” and show how in this he was considered entirely from the religious point of view, as an instrument in the hands of God, pre-ordained to His work. Then he would make them read Guizot, and see how, in his view, Cromwell was endowed with the utmost power of free will, but governed by no higher motive than that of expediency; while Carlyle regarded him as a character regulated by a strong and conscientious desire to do the will of the Lord.
8
Then he would desire them to remember that the Royalist and Commonwealth man had each their different opinions of the great Protector. And from these conflicting characters he would require them to sift and collect the elements of truth, and try to unite them into a perfect whole.