Charlotte Brontë’s letters give us an incredible view into her life and that of her family. They are always a joy to read, Charlotte was an excellent letter writer as well as an excellent novelist. Even her letters sharing news and information with friends are fascinating and revelatory. Today we’re going to look at one such letter, sent on this day in 1850, which tells the sad story of Mrs Atkinson.
The letter, like so many others, was sent to best friend Ellen Nussey, and it reads as follows:
‘Dear Ellen, I was indeed strangely astonished by what you say about Mrs. Atkinson – it struck me like some miracle. To think that the poor wasted being you and I saw about five weeks ago, was then within a month of becoming a mother seems truly incredible. And that the doctors should not have known amazes me too. What do they now say to their own stupid ignorance? Can it be that she will yet recover? That – indeed – is too much to hope – but I cannot help fancying or wishing that she may be partially restored and live some time longer, it would seem hard that a new charm should be given to life at the moment when she is snatched from it. I wonder what poor Mr. Atkinson thinks or feels in the matter – they can scarcely expect to rear a child born under such circumstances. In short it seems to me rather an accumulation of grief than otherwise.
Poor Amelia cannot be very comfortable at home with her father in such a mood. Her letter to you is very affectionate – it puzzles me to know how all this affection will find repose in J. Taylor unless he is something very different to what a hundred things would lead one to augur. Feelings like hers must at last encounter disappointment – the day will come when the feigned (if feigned it be) response to her tenderness will cease to be made and she must just put up with a chilly silence. I fancy, however, this is the fate of most feeling women, and when they find there is no remedy for the inevitable they submit to circumstances and take resignation as a substitute for content. Amelia will do this; but not yet – nor for two or three years will it be required of her. You will see her happy for that time, nor after that time will she admit herself to be otherwise than happy; indeed if children come, the mother will well support the wife: the bridal interest lost, maternal interest will replace it.
I am going on Monday D. V. [‘God willing’] on a journey, whereof the prospect cheers me not at all – to Windermere in Westmoreland to spend a few days with Sir J. Kay-Shuttleworth who has taken a house there for the Autumn and Winter. I consented to go with reluctance, chiefly to please Papa whom a refusal on my part would much have annoyed, but I dislike to leave him. I trust he is not worse, but his complaint is still weakness. It is not right to anticipate evil, and to be always looking forward with an apprehensive spirit, but I think grief is a two-edged sword – it cuts both ways – the memory of one loss is the anticipation of another. Take moderate exercise and be careful, dear Nell. and believe me yours sincerely
C Brontë.’
This is a letter full of woe, and it comes after a two year period in which Charlotte had lost her brother Branwell and her sisters Emily and Anne Brontë; there is little wonder then that she worries about leaving her father Patrick who has recently been having serious health problems of his own. On a happier note, the journey she will make to the Kay-Shuttleworth home on the banks of Lake Windermere will see her meet, for the first time, someone who will become a close and celebrated friend: Elizabeth Gaskell.
In this letter Charlotte also writes, rather cynically for one who had not been married, of Amelia Ringrose who is due to be married to Joe Taylor. Charlotte feels that Joe cannot be a suitable husband for Amelia, and on this at least she may have been correct. From what we know it was a volatile marriage, especially after their daughter Tim was born as she suffered constant illnesses throughout her childhood,Within a three year period Joe died, then Tim, and then Amelia.
Next we come to the even more tragic tale of the woman at the start of Charlotte’s letter: Mrs Atkinson. Mary Atkinson was the wife of Reverend Thomas Atkinson. Reverend Atkinson had studied alongside Patrick Brontë at Cambridge, It was he who swapped parishes with Patrick, swapping his Thornton for Patrick’s Hartshead, so that he could be closer to the woman he loved: Frances Walker of Lascelles Hall (that’s it at the head of this post). Thomas married Frances, but after her death he made Mary his second wife.
Alas, in 1849 Mrs Atkinson was diagnosed with consumption, a condition that Charlotte Brontë knew all too well. Shortly before this letter Charlotte and Elen had visited the Atkinsons and found Mary to be very weak and emaciated. Charlotte was understandably astonished, therefore, to discover that Mrs Atkinson was pregnant.
The doctors treating and examining Mary had somehow failed to spot that she was pregnant. Despite Charlotte’s heartfelt wishes Mary died within days of the letter, and her child followed her in October. It is a tragic tale, and a tragic precursor of Charlotte’s own wasted condition in pregnancy that would come five years later.
A tragic letter from start to finish, but a fascinating one nonetheless so I hope you have enjoyed sharing it with me. And I hope to see you next Sunday for another new Brontë blog post.
A sad tale indeed, especially knowing Charlotte’s own fate a few years later. All too common at that time, but I guess we suffer our own illnesses now as well.