Aunt Elizabeth Branwell is all too easily overlooked in the Brontë story, and yet she was pivotal to the incredible story of these incredible sisters. On a very human scale she stepped into the breach after her sister Maria’ untimely death and became almost a second mother to the young children in Haworth Parsonage; it was also Elizabeth’s legacy to Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë which gave them the financial freedom to pay for their first book to be published. In today’s post we will look at another vital role she played.
By 1841 the sisters had formed plans to open their own school, and former teacher and employer Margaret Wooler had offered Charlotte the opportunity to take over the Wooler school. Charlotte, however, had been struck by the romance of travel after hearing from friend Mary Taylor, then at school in Brussels. The plan was amended – Charlotte and Emily would now head overseas to learn new language skills, and then return to Haworth to set up their own school. One large problem, however, presented itself – how would they finance such an adventure? A letter sent from Charlotte Brontë to her aunt on this day in 1841 reveals the answer:
It is a diplomatic and carefully worded letter by Charlotte, calculated to appeal to Aunt Branwell’s generous nature. The appeal did not go in vain, and she did indeed pay for Charlotte and Emily to travel to Brussels and attend school there. Could any of them have known, when they embarked for Belgium in the following year, that it would be the last time the two sisters would see their benefactor?
A tiny silhouette showing Elizabeth Branwell
Tragically Aunt Branwell died in October 1842 whilst Charlotte and Emily were in Brussels thanks to the money she had given them. She would never see the fruits of her generosity, but Charlotte’s time in Brussels surely led to The Professor, to Villette, even to Jane Eyre. Without Aunt Branwell I doubt there would be any Brontë books in existence today, and that’s certainly a lasting legacy to leave.
A poem and sketch by Branwell Bronte, whose anniversary was this week
Talking of Branwell, in this week we also remember Branwell Brontë, who died on 24th September 1842. I hope you can join me again next Sunday for another new Brontë blog post.
On this day in 1849 Charlotte Brontë contacted her publishers after receiving the initial payment for her second published novel Shirley. In today’s post we’ll look at just how much she was paid, and at an unfortunate error made on the cheque, or bank bills as they were called then, itself.
We know that Charlotte originally received payment on 14th September 1849, as she wrote this effusive letter to publisher George Smith on receipt of the bank bill:
It was over a week later, however, that Charlotte realised that all was not as it should be with the bank bill, as we say in her letter to Smith of 22nd September 1849:
“I return the Bank-Bill, endorsed as you direct.t My Christian name is Charlotte – not Caroline – and it is my only Christian name.
It seems to me that I cannot do better than leave the business in your hands which I do in entire confidence that you will make the best arrangement you can for me. If you would receive the dividends at the Bank, it would of course be to me a great additional convenience.
Should my Railway Shares again rise to par. (which is more than doubtful) I would sell out, and should then be enabled to place a few hundreds more in the Funds – but on this – I must not calculate.
The thought of laying a foundation for a future independency gives me a certain pleasure, and to my father it gives very great pleasure, but you will understand me when I say that I hope never to allow it to become more than a very subordinate motive for writing: I will not permit it to hurry my pen: if I did both you and the Public would soon tire of me, and certainly I should cease to respect myself.
You shall be spared thanks since you do not like them, but believe me, Yours Very Sincerely, C Brontë
Perhaps you will be kind enough to notify the safe arrival of the Bank-Bill. It has just struck me that perhaps I have done wrong to write Charlotte Bronté on the back while Caroline Bronté is written on the face – will it make any difference?”
George Smith, Charlotte’s publisher
Perhaps Smith had Charlotte’s novel on his mind when he wrote out the bank bill to his star author, for whilst Shirley Keeldar is the eponymous heroine it is her friend Caroline Helstone who truly dominates the novel? The error must have been corrected, for we know that Smith did invest the money for Charlotte as she recorded: “£500 the price of the copyright of ‘Shirley’ invested in the Funds Oct 1849”. A letter entry by Charlotte records: “£521 17s 6d. The proceeds of the sale of Railway Shares – invested January 1853.” We see then that this investment on the railways led to a profit, whereas we know that an earlier investment made by Emily Brontë fell foul to the collapse of railway shares linked to George Hudson, the infamous ‘Railway King.’
Charlotte pronounced herself ‘rather proud of its amount’ upon receiving her bank bill, and she had received the same amount on the sale of Jane Eyre to Smith, Elder two years earlier. On top of this Charlotte’s books sold well in her lifetime, and she received frequent and sizeable royalty payments.
Just how much was this £500 worth? If we take it on purely inflationary terms, using RPI, then the Measuring Worth website says £500 in 1849 would be worth £65,510 today. However it also explains that this doesn’t show the true value of the money, as money simply went much further in those days when there were no outgoings such as car and fuel bills and the holiday and leisure costs which are so common today. If we also take into account average earnings at this time, then Measuring Worth says that £500 then was actually the equivalent of between £496,800 and £729,100. Not a bad return, but richly deserved for an author of Charlotte’s genius. Alas, the tragic death of her sisters in 1848 and 1849 meant that Emily and Anne never saw the rewards that their work deserved, although Charlotte herself did eventually receive royalties from their novels too.
Under the circumstances, Charlotte was wise not to be too concerned that her publisher had taken to calling her Caroline Brontë! As you know, I don’t monetise this blog in any way, it’s purely a labour of love – so I will never need to worry how much my zero pounds today will be worth in 175 years time! I hope to see you again next week for another new Brontë blog post.
In this blog we look at the life and works of Anne Brontë and her remarkable family. I try to focus on the positive aspects of their story, but of course we all know that they had more than their fair share of tragedy to deal with too – so in today’s post we look at one of the saddest events of all that happened exactly 203 years ago today.
When Patrick Brontë moved to Yorkshire in 1809 to be assistant curate to Reverend John Buckworth of Dewsbury he could little realise how much his life would change. Three years later he met Penzance born Maria Branwell, who had travelled to Yorkshire from Cornwall, and within months they were married. There then followed a succession of six children at regular intervals, concluding with the birth of Anne Brontë in January 1820.
Maria Bronte nee Branwell
Three months after Anne’s birth the family moved to a new parish in Haworth, and their future looked bright indeed, but just a year after the move Patrick’s world came crashing down. He recalled the events in a letter sent to his old friend and employer John Buckworth on 27th November 1821:
“I was at Haworth, a stranger in a strange land. It was under these circumstances, after every earthly prop was removed, that I was called on to bear the weight of the greatest load of sorrows that ever pressed upon me. One day, I remember it well; it was a gloomy day, a day of clouds and darkness, three of my little children were taken ill of scarlet fever; and, the day after, the remaining three were in the same condition. Just at that time death seemed to have laid his hand on my dear wife in a manner which threatened her speedy dissolution. She was cold and silent and seemed hardly to notice what was passing around her.
At the earliest opportunity I called in different medical gentlemen to visit the beloved sufferer; but all their skill was in vain … after above seven months of more agonizing pain than I ever saw anyone endure she fell asleep in Jesus, and her soul took its flight to the mansions of glory …
Do you ask how I felt under all these circumstances? I would answer to this, that tender sorrow was my daily portion; that oppressive grief sometimes lay heavy on me and that there were seasons when an affectionate, agonizing something sickened my whole frame … And when my dear wife was dead and buried and gone, and when I missed her at every corner, and when her memory was hourly revived by the innocent yet distressing prattle of my children, I do assure, my dear sir, from what I felt, I was happy at the recollection that to sorrow, not as those without hope, was no sin; that our Lord himself had wept over his departed friend, and that he had promised us grace and strength sufficient for such a day.”
Maria Brontë died on 15th September 1821. It is often said that she died of uterine cancer, but in the 1970s eminent obstetrician and Brontë fan Professor Philip Rhodes said this was unlikely given the facts we knew about Maria’s demise. He instead concluded: “All in all, I would lean to the idea of chronic pelvic sepsis together with increasing anaemia as the probable cause of her death. It is to be remembered that this was before the age of bacteriological knowledge… Gynaecological knowledge was primitive, there was no ante-natal care and no attempt at follow-up after childbirth.”
The home of Maria Branwell, mother to the Brontes – Chapel Street, Penzance
It seems likely then, in a further tragic twist, that it was the aftermath of the birth of Anne Brontë that led to the death of her mother when Anne was just one year old (The header image of this post shows portraits of Maria and her daughter Anne.) This was a dark time for Patrick and his children, but Maria’s sister Elizabeth travelled from Cornwall to Haworth never to return to Penzance again. For over twenty years she was an unflinching comfort to Patrick, a financial support (she was undoubtedly one of the people who cleared the debts Patrick had amassed when seeking medical help for his wife), and almost a second mother to the Brontë children – particularly to baby Anne. In that same letter to Reverend Buckworth, Patrick explained:
“Her sister, Miss Branwell, arrived, and afforded great comfort to my mind, which has been the case ever since, by sharing my labours and sorrows, and behaving as an affectionate mother to my children.”
A tiny silhouette showing Elizabeth Branwell
A tragic milestone in the Brontë story, but Maria’s legacy of love, and the selfless and steadfast support of her sister Elizabeth Branwell, is still remembered today. I hope to see you next week for another new Brontë blog post.
There are at least four known portraits of Anne Brontë. Three by Charlotte Brontë, and Anne also features on the far left of Branwell Brontë’s youthful portrait of his sisters. There is also a beautiful painting by Branwell which many consider to be of Emily, although I believe the evidence points to it being of Anne. In today’s post, however, we’re also going to consider whether there could be other portraits of Anne hiding in plain sight.
First we’ll begin with the known portraits of Anne – Branwell’s ‘pillar portrait’ (so called because he painted himself, or possibly his father, out behind a pillar) features at the head of this post. We now show Charlotte’s three portraits of Anne, finishing with a rather beautiful picture of her youngest sister beneath which Patrick Brontë has written, “Anne Brontë by my daughter Charlotte”:
So we see that Charlotte made at least three portraits of her youngest sister Anne, but we have no extant portraits by her of Branwell or Emily Brontë. Why should this be? I think the most likely explanation is that from a young age Anne was very patient and obliging – if asked to sit still for a portrait she would do so, whereas Emily and Branwell were less likely to be compliant. As Anne herself said, in her preface to the second edition of The Tenant Of Wildfell Hall, “I love to give innocent pleasure.”
Did Charlotte limit herself to just these three paintings of Anne, or could there be more? I believe that the following two compositions by Charlotte deserve close examination: from 1833 and 1834 respectively, so around the same time as Charlotte’s verified picture of Anne above, they seem to me to have at least a passing resemblance when it comes to the sitter.
And then we turn to Emily’s portraits. Emily was a very accomplished artist, perhaps the finest of all the Brontës (in fairness Emily excelled at all she turned her hand to). We have many beautiful portraits by Emily of animals and nature, but did she forego to paint a portrait of the sister she loved dearly – the sister with whom Ellen Nussey said Emily shared a twin-like existence? Or could Anne have provided an inspiration for Emily’s 1841 portrait of ‘Woman’s Head With A Tiara?’
Let’s turn again to Ellen Nussey’s description of Anne from around this time: “Anne – dear, gentle Anne – was quite different in appearance from the others. She was her aunt’s favorite. Her hair was a very pretty, light brown, and fell on her neck in graceful curls.”
Do we get a glimpse of that appearance in the three images above? I believe so, and I believe that, even if they were completed as part of the sisters’ artistic studies, Anne Brontë was the likely model for them.
I hope you can join me next Sunday for another new Brontë blog post where we’ll paint another picture in the lives of our favourite writing sisters.
I’ve been visiting London again this week, and as always I stayed in Bankside on the south shore of the River Thames. It’s a great location, walked by the likes of Shakespeare, Dickens, Chaucer and many others – and across the Thames via the Millennium Bridge lies the majestic St. Paul’s Cathedral designed by Sir Christopher Wren.
Anne Bronte’s view Of St Paul’s Cathedral from the Chapter Coffee House?
It’s been a breathtaking sight for over four centuries now, and whilst I stay across the river from it, the Brontë sisters stayed in the very shadow of St. Paul’s, as I hope to show in today’s post. The London location favoured by the Brontës was the Chapter Coffee House.
By the time the Brontës stayed in the coffee house (which also served as a guest house) it already had a fine literary reputation as it had served as a late eighteenth century meeting point for writers like Oliver Goldsmith, Samuel Johnson and Thomas Chatterton. There’s a more likely reason why it became the London residence of the Brontës however: its proximity to St. Paul’s.
The streets around this area show its ecclesiastical influence, with names such as Amen Corner and Ave Maria Lane. It is likely that the Chapter Coffee House was in extensive use by members of the clergy visiting St. Paul’s and that this was how it came to the attention of Reverend Patrick Brontë. Patrick visited it in 1842, with his daughters Charlotte and Emily Brontë, a year before this picture of the house was made:
The Chapter Coffee House in 1843
At this time Patrick was accompanying his daughters en route to them entering school in Brussels. He helpfully drew a map of the area, and marked the location of the Chapter Coffee House upon it:
Map showing the Chapter Coffee House by Patrick Bronte
Charlotte returned to London in 1848, and this time it was her youngest sister Anne Brontë with her. They had journeyed to the capital in some haste after receiving a letter implying that the Bell brothers (Currer, Ellis and Acton) were one and the same person. So rapidly did they travel that they had given no thought to where they might stay when they arrived in London in the early hours of a Saturday morning. Charlotte later recalled how they ordered a horse drawn cab to take them and their luggage to the Chapter Coffee House simply because it was the only place in London she knew.
But just where is, or was, the Chapter Coffee House? It’s not there now, but the area around St. Paul’s was badly damaged during the Ritz and I believe that the Chapter Coffee House burned down during the war. I also believe that we can still see where the house once stood, and explain why in this video I made:
A transcript of the video follows here: “I’m here in St Paul’s Churchyard in search of the location of the Chapter Coffee House. The Chapter Coffee House was destroyed by fire during World War II. It’s here that Charlotte and Anne Brontë stayed in London in 1848 in a few days that changed literary history forever. So behind me is St Paul’s Cathedral and in this direction is Ave Maria Lane. Behind me is St Paul’s Alley. These were all marked on Patrick Brontë’s map and behind me through there is Paternoster Row where the Chapter Coffee House was.
Now this gap behind me was caused by the destruction during the blitz of World War II. I believe this is the very spot where the Chapter Coffee House stood and where Charlotte and Anne Brontë stayed. And now right next to it we have a coffee house, Paul’s Coffee House. I believe this is the Brontë’s home in London.”
After posting this on my Twitter account (where I tweet daily about the Brontes) I received some validation from the staff of St. Paul’s Cathedral itself:
When we walk in the shadow of St. Paul’s we walk in the footsteps of Charlotte, Emily and ANne Brontë, and I recommend it to anyone who visits London. I’m back in Yorkshire now, and hope you can join me next Sunday for another new Brontë blog post.
