Life of Charlotte Brontë | Page 8

occasion afterwards

to give one or two instances of the warm feelings and extensive
knowledge on subjects of both home and foreign politics existing at the
present day in the villages lying west and east of the mountainous ridge
that separates Yorkshire and Lancashire; the inhabitants of which are of
the same race and possess the same quality of character.
The descendants of many who served under Cromwell at Dunbar, live
on the same lands as their ancestors occupied then; and perhaps there is
no part of England where the traditional and fond recollections of the
Commonwealth have lingered so long as in that inhabited by the
woollen manufacturing population of the West Riding, who had the
restrictions taken off their trade by the Protector's admirable
commercial policy. I have it on good authority that, not thirty years ago,
the phrase, "in Oliver's days," was in common use to denote a time of
unusual prosperity. The class of Christian names prevalent in a district
is one indication of the direction in which its tide of hero-worship sets.
Grave enthusiasts in politics or religion perceive not the ludicrous side
of those which they give to their children; and some are to be found,
still in their infancy, not a dozen miles from Haworth, that will have to
go through life as Lamartine, Kossuth, and Dembinsky. And so there is
a testimony to what I have said, of the traditional feeling of the district,
in the fact that the Old Testament names in general use among the
Puritans are yet the prevalent appellations in most Yorkshire families of
middle or humble rank, whatever their religious persuasion may be.
There are numerous records, too, that show the kindly way in which the
ejected ministers were received by the gentry, as well as by the poorer
part of the inhabitants, during the persecuting days of Charles II. These
little facts all testify to the old hereditary spirit of independence, ready
ever to resist authority which was conceived to be unjustly exercised,
that distinguishes the people of the West Riding to the present day.
The parish of Halifax touches that of Bradford, in which the chapelry of
Haworth is included; and the nature of the ground in the two parishes is
much the of the same wild and hilly description. The abundance of coal,
and the number of mountain streams in the district, make it highly
favourable to manufactures; and accordingly, as I stated, the inhabitants
have for centuries been engaged in making cloth, as well as in
agricultural pursuits. But the intercourse of trade failed, for a long time,
to bring amenity and civilization into these outlying hamlets, or widely

scattered dwellings. Mr. Hunter, in his "Life of Oliver Heywood,"
quotes a sentence out of a memorial of one James Rither, living in the
reign of Elizabeth, which is partially true to this day:-
"They have no superior to court, no civilities to practise: a sour and
sturdy humour is the consequence, so that a stranger is shocked by a
tone of defiance in every voice, and an air of fierceness in every
countenance."
Even now, a stranger can hardly ask a question without receiving some
crusty reply, if, indeed, he receive any at all. Sometimes the sour
rudeness amounts to positive insult. Yet, if the "foreigner" takes all this
churlishness good-humouredly, or as a matter of course, and makes
good any claim upon their latent kindliness and hospitality, they are
faithful and generous, and thoroughly to be relied upon. As a slight
illustration of the roughness that pervades all classes in these
out-of-the-way villages, I may relate a little adventure which happened
to my husband and myself, three years ago, at Addingham -
From Penigent to Pendle Hill, From Linton to Long-ADDINGHAM
And all that Craven coasts did tell, &c. -
one of the places that sent forth its fighting men to the famous old
battle of Flodden Field, and a village not many miles from Haworth.
We were driving along the street, when one of those ne'er-do-weel lads
who seem to have a kind of magnetic power for misfortunes, having
jumped into the stream that runs through the place, just where all the
broken glass and bottles are thrown, staggered naked and nearly
covered with blood into a cottage before us. Besides receiving another
bad cut in the arm, he had completely laid open the artery, and was in a
fair way of bleeding to death--which, one of his relations comforted
him by saying, would be likely to "save a deal o' trouble."
When my husband had checked the effusion of blood with a strap that
one of the bystanders unbuckled from his leg, he asked if a surgeon had
been sent for.
"Yoi," was the answer; "but we dunna think he'll come."
"Why