second characteristic scarcely less marked
than her creative powers,--an extraordinary faculty of observation. She
saw the essence, the spirit of things, and the simplest details of life
revealed to her the secrets of human nature. What she had herself seen
and felt--the plain rugged types of Yorkshire character, the wild
scenery of the moorlands--she reflected with living truth. She got the
real fact out of every bit of material in humanity and nature that her
simple life afforded her. And where her experience could not afford her
the necessary material, she drew upon some mysterious resources in her
nature, which were apparently not less reliable than actual experience.
On being asked once how she could describe so accurately the effects of
opium as she does in 'Villette,' she replied that she knew nothing of
opium, but that she had followed the process she always adopted in cases
of this kind. She had thought intently on the matter for many a night
before falling asleep; till at length, after some time, she waked in the
morning with all clear before her, just as if she had actually gone
through the experience, and then could describe it word for word as
it happened.

Her sensitiveness to impressions of nature was exceedingly keen. She had
what Swinburne calls "an instinct for the tragic use of landscape." By
constant and close observation during her walks she had established a
fellowship with nature in all her phases; learning her secrets from the
voices of the night, from the whisper of the trees, and from the eerie
moaning of the moorland blasts. She studied the cold sky, and had
watched the "coming night-clouds trailing low like banners drooping."

Other qualities that distinguish her work are purity, depth and ardor of
passion, and spiritual force and fervor. Her genius was lofty and noble,
and an exalted moral quality predominates in her stories. She was
ethical as sincerely as she was emotional.

We have only to consider her technique, in which she is
characteristically original. This originality is noticeable especially
in her use of words. There is a sense of fitness that often surprises
the reader. Words at times in her hands reveal a new power and
significance. In the choice of words Charlotte Bronte was scrupulous.
She believed that there was just one word fit to express the idea or
shade of meaning she wished to convey, and she never admitted a
substitute, sometimes waiting days until the right word cam