Author: insearchofannebronte@hotmail.com

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?

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.

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?”

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.

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.”

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 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.

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:

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:

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.

The whole world knows that the three writing Brontë sisters (Charlotte Brontë, Emily Brontë and Anne Brontë) were authors and poets of the finest quality – geniuses whose novels are still read and adapted across the world over 200 years after their births. They were also excellent artists, along with their brother Branwell Brontë, and showed prodigious talent from an early age. In today’s Brontë blog post we are looking at the early art of Anne Brontë.

Art was something that Anne Brontë excelled at, and something she loved – and we’ll look at some evidence of this to be found in one of her novels later. Coming from a lower middle class background (their father’s position as a Church of England priest was completely respectable, but they had little money and no property of their own), there were two obvious career paths that presented themselves to the young Brontë girls: teacher or governess. 

For this reason, from an early age they would have been taught the essential skills that they would pass on to their future pupils; needlework (which we know was taught by their Aunt Branwell) and artwork would have been especially prized. A letter from Charlotte Brontë to her father Patrick sent in 1829 (when she was 13 and Anne 9) reveals how the siblings (at the time on a visit to their Uncle Fennell in the nearby parish of Crosspool) spent their time drawing and painting:

“Branwell has taken two sketches from nature, and Emily, Anne and myself, have likewise each of us drawn a piece from some views of the lakes which Mr Fennell brought with him from Westmoreland.”

We see then that the Brontës were copying artworks, and also sketching from nature. It is from this period in time that we have this drawing of a church surrounded by trees by Anne Brontë. She has kindly dated it for us, so that we can see that Anne was just eight years old when she completed this:

No doubt noticing his girls’ talents for art, and always keen to encourage their learning and creativity, Patrick Brontë arranged for his daughters to have formal art lessons from John Bradley of Keighley. Bradley was an established local artist of some talent, although he wasn’t usually an art teacher so it’s possible that Bradley taught the girls as a favour to his friend Patrick.

These lessons helped the Brontës’ art flourish, so that by the age of just 16 years old Anne Brontë had produced this sublime image entitled ‘Man With A Dog Before A Villa.’:

We know that Anne continued to draw and paint throughout her all too short life, and I think it’s safe to say that she did that not only by necessity during her years as a governess, but also because she greatly enjoyed creating works of art. After all, in her second novel The Tenant Of Wildfell Hall what career does Anne choose for her heroine Helen to pursue? She is a professional artist as we see from the opening of chapter five when Gilbert and Rose make their first visit to Wildfell Hall’s new tenant:

‘It was about the close of the month, that, yielding at length to the urgent importunities of Rose, I accompanied her in a visit to Wildfell Hall. To our surprise, we were ushered into a room where the first object that met the eye was a painter’s easel, with a table beside it covered with rolls of canvas, bottles of oil and varnish, palette, brushes, paints, &c. Leaning against the wall were several sketches in various stages of progression, and a few finished paintings—mostly of landscapes and figures.

“I must make you welcome to my studio,” said Mrs. Graham; “there is no fire in the sitting-room to-day, and it is rather too cold to show you into a place with an empty grate.”

And disengaging a couple of chairs from the artistical lumber that usurped them, she bid us be seated, and resumed her place beside the easel—not facing it exactly, but now and then glancing at the picture upon it while she conversed, and giving it an occasional touch with her brush, as if she found it impossible to wean her attention entirely from her occupation to fix it upon her guests. It was a view of Wildfell Hall, as seen at early morning from the field below, rising in dark relief against a sky of clear silvery blue, with a few red streaks on the horizon, faithfully drawn and coloured, and very elegantly and artistically handled.

“I see your heart is in your work, Mrs. Graham,” observed I: “I must beg you to go on with it; for if you suffer our presence to interrupt you, we shall be constrained to regard ourselves as unwelcome intruders.”

“Oh, no!” replied she, throwing her brush on to the table, as if startled into politeness. “I am not so beset with visitors but that I can readily spare a few minutes to the few that do favour me with their company.”

“You have almost completed your painting,” said I, approaching to observe it more closely, and surveying it with a greater degree of admiration and delight than I cared to express. “A few more touches in the foreground will finish it, I should think. But why have you called it Fernley Manor, Cumberland, instead of Wildfell Hall, ——shire?” I asked, alluding to the name she had traced in small characters at the bottom of the canvas.

But immediately I was sensible of having committed an act of impertinence in so doing; for she coloured and hesitated; but after a moment’s pause, with a kind of desperate frankness, she replied:—

“Because I have friends—acquaintances at least—in the world, from whom I desire my present abode to be concealed; and as they might see the picture, and might possibly recognise the style in spite of the false initials I have put in the corner, I take the precaution to give a false name to the place also, in order to put them on a wrong scent, if they should attempt to trace me out by it.”

“Then you don’t intend to keep the picture?” said I, anxious to say anything to change the subject.

“No; I cannot afford to paint for my own amusement.”

“Mamma sends all her pictures to London,” said Arthur; “and somebody sells them for her there, and sends us the money.”’

When we look at the novels, poetry and art of the Brontë sisters we cannot help but be in awe of their talent and genius, and Anne deserves to be considered just as much of a genius as her sisters Charlotte and Anne. I hope you can join me next week for another new Brontë blog post.

The Brontës hold a fascination for people the world over thanks to the unique combination of their magnificent literature and their fascinating, at times tragic, lives. Charlotte Brontë was still alive when the first literary pilgrims began making their way to Haworth, and in the many decades since the interest has only grown – and so has the value of anything associated with the Brontës. In today’s post we’re going to look at some of the astonishing bargains that Brontë lovers were able to pick up in the last century.

In my recent visit to the Brontë Parsonage Museum in Haworth I saw many items which were new to their display because they had once formed part of the private Honresfield Library Collection. There had been fears that its treasures would be lost to the nation forever, but thanks to public support and some very generous donors led by Sir Len Blavatnik the collection was bought and then gifted back to the nation. The cost of this collection? A cool £15 million, but just a century ago similar treasures could be picked up at a series of auctions for rather less; they could also be found in rather unusual circumstances, as this 1933 report from the Sunderland Daily Echo shows:

There are still undoubtedly Brontë treasures hidden away yet to be discovered, so if you ever buy an old book do give it a good examination. The bulk of Brontë items on display around the world today, however, have a known provenance. Many came from Haworth Parsonage itself and were among lots auctioned off after the deaths of Charlotte and then Patrick Brontë. Others have passed down from collections that once belonged to Charlotte’s widower Arthur Bell Nicholls, her best friend Ellen Nussey and from the long standing parsonage servant Martha Brown. Still others, rather more sadly, have their origins in the many letters and items that were tricked out of Ellen Nussey by unscrupulous conmen and then sold to wealthy Brontë collectors in America and beyond. One such letter was coming up for auction in 1937, as we see from the following Yorkshire Post report:

It’s interesting to see that five years earlier in 1932, there had been an auction of Charlotte Brontë’s childhood ephemera and “a batch of her schoolgirl stories and verses, written on small scraps of paper.” These sold for £1884. Today we would recognise them as one of her tiny books, and attach a value approaching six figures or more.

We now turn to the Bradford Daily Telegraph of December 16th 1916. Across the sea in France and Flanders, World War One is raging – and the newspaper carries pictures of local men killed or wounded in action. The Battle Of The Somme has recently ended, but smaller tragedies continue across the Western Front. Meanwhile, away from the trenches and tear gas, away from the death and dull despair, away from the senseless savagery and selfless sacrifices the wider world continues much as before – including an auction of Brontë items reported on below:

This large collection of items were from the estates of Mary Anna Bell Nicholls, who had recently died and who had been the second wife of Arthur Bell Nicholls, and from the estate of Brontë collector J. H. Dixon. Among the incredible bargains to be had that day were a ring containing Charlotte Brontë’s hair which she had gifted to her husband – yours for £35. For £39 you could have one of Charlotte’s Brussels notebooks in which she had written a series of short stories. A letter sent by Charlotte to Ellen Nussey on the first day of her honeymoon fetched £44, and with it came a lock of Charlotte Brontë’s hair.

Perhaps the most moving of all the lots that came up for auction that day was the comb used by Emily Brontë on the day of her death – the middle is burnt out after it fell from Emily’s hands onto the fire. Remarkably, there were no bids at all for that item and it was withdrawn unsold. 

These small items, added together, tell of a remarkable life, and it’s one that still fascinates us today. As the exponential increase in the value of Brontë letters and items shows, that fascination shows no sign of stopping. Thankfully you don’t need to be a millionaire to see many of them, simply head to the Brontë Parsonage Museum in Haworth. I hope to see you next week for another new Brontë blog post.

The Brontë Parsonage Museum has to be one of the world’s greatest literary museums. It houses a vast collection of Brontë writings, artifacts and memorabilia, so much so that only a fraction can be displayed at any one time, with the remainder held in a secure storage facility secreted away in the heart of West Yorkshire. Every year they introduce new items to display, centred around a new theme. This year’s theme is entitled “The Brontës’ Web Of Childhood” and we’ll take a look at it in today’s new Brontë blog post.

The theme for 2024 is an apt one, as it was the seeds of creation sown during the Brontë childhoods that led to the outpouring of genius in their adult lives, and when we walk around the parsonage today we can easily remember that we are tracing the exact same steps once trodden by young Charlotte, Branwell, Emily and Anne Brontë.

I was fortunate enough to visit the parsonage this year, and even more fortunate to be visiting with my wonderful fiancee Yvette, author of the Restorative Creativity series of books, who hadn’t been to the parsonage for a number of years. One thing that particularly impressed me was that throughout the building were a series of cards imagining a scenario in that room from the Brontës’ childhood years. This also tied in neatly with a storytelling exhibition in what is known as The Servants’ Room, featuring a recorded audio performance by the museum’s new storyteller-in-residence Sophia Hatfield. 

There were some items I’ve never seen before, alongside some much loved old favourites. Here then are just some of the items you can see on display if you step into the web of childhood this year:

This was a wonderful exhibition, although there did seem to be less of Anne Brontë on display than ever before – in this 175th anniversary year of her death even her blood stained handkerchief is no longer displayed. I recommend it to all who can wend their way to Haworth however, there’s so much to see and enjoy – and from 20th to 22nd September the Brontë Festival of Women’s Writing returns.

Make the most of this sunny, dry weather while you can and I hope to see you next week for another new Brontë blog post.

This week marked some important anniversaries in the Brontë story – the 30th July was the anniversary of the birth of Emily Brontë (and, exactly 140 years later) of Kate Bush who will always be linked to her thanks to a certain song. Today marks another date to remember, as it was on this day in 1928 that the Brontë Parsonage Museum in Haworth first opened its doors to the public. That’s why I headed to Haworth this week, and why today’s post looks at the Brontë Parsonage Museum – past and present.

To start with, let’s fire up our time machines and head back to the 4th August 1928. If you were in Haworth on this day you would have been met with huge crowds stretching up Church Lane and down the cobbled Main Street – people were in their finery, so bowler and cloche hats were in abundance. What was drawing them there? The official opening of the Brontë Museum in what had, until then, been an active parsonage building belonging to the Church of England. This picture taken on that day captures the crowd perfectly:

If we had been there that day we would have seen two of the great benefactors of the museum on the podium facing the large assembly of well-wishers: Sir James Roberts and Sir Edward Brotherton. Both are working class northerners who had become successful industrialists, and had used their wealth to share their love of the Brontës with the public. Sir James was born in Haworth, in the same week that Branwell Brontë died, and he still had vivid memories of Patrick Brontë, of Arthur Bell Nicholls and Martha Brown. It is Sir James who bought the parsonage building from the Church of England and immediately gifted it to the Brontë Society, allowing them to open it to the public. Sir Edward had built up a vast collection of Brontë memorabilia, alongside other literary gems, and he has gifted a large part of it to this new museum and to Leeds University – where it is now housed in the magnificent Brotherton Library.

Other notable people who thrilled the crowd were Mr and Mrs Branwell and Captain Arthur Branwell, the cousins once and twice removed of the Brontës and last surviving members of the Branwell family of Penzance who had provided the Brontë motherline. Another man presented to the crowd is Mr Holland, grandson of Charlotte Brontë’s friend and biographer Elizabeth Gaskell. 

Perhaps the most moving and spontaneous aspect of the ceremony comes when Lady Roberts, wife of Sir James, was presented with a bouquet of white moorland heather by a local child. She stooped to kiss the child, and the whole audience applauded. The event was reported fulsomely by newspapers from as far away as Hastings in Kent, whose Observer newspaper gave this account:

‘The first time, we are told, never comes back, and the present writer will not soon forget his sensations on seeing for the first time, and so suddenly, the home of the Brontës. The experience was, at once, strange – and familiar. It was familiar because – in pictures, photographs, even on postcards, Haworth Parsonage is known to most of us. It was strange, because there is always something of strangeness on seeing for the first time a face, a scene, or an historic building, the pictured presentation of which is familiar to us. And, in the case of the Haworth Parsonage, the sense of strangeness was heightened by the fact that the old Brontë home struck one as more grimly grey-black, more bleakly-haggard, and more ghost-haunted, even than one had expected…

Before some of us had breakfasted, on the morning of August 4th, visitors all parts of the country, all parts of the Kingdom, all parts of the Empire – for one lady had come specially from Rhodesia, and one heard of folk who had journeyed from Canada, America, and the Antipodes – were pouring in by train, by car, by charabanc, motorcycle, push cycle, and not a few of the poorer classes, on foot. Haworth was, in fact, en fête, its streets fluttering with flags, and with Union Jacks floating from flagstaffs, or run out of windows of the more important buildings. At 2.45, Colonel Sir Edward Brotherton, who was to preside at the ceremony, arrived. Like Sir James and Lady Roberts, Sir Edward Brotherton has done great things for patriotic causes, raising at his own expense a battalion of the 15th West Yorkshire regiment during the War. His being in the chair was, thus, more than appropriate, for August 4th was an “historic” occasion, apart from the Brontë celebration.

The arrival of Sir Edward at 2.45 was followed at 2.55 by that of Sir James and Lady Roberts, who were received by Sir Edward, supported by the Lord Mayor of Bradford, and a very distinguished company. Within the gates of the Parsonage, and far without those gates, some thousands of persons were gathered. After Sir James had handed the title deeds of the Parsonage to Sir Edward, and the latter had eloquently, and gracefully made acknowledgement, little Catherine Butler Wood (daughter of the accomplished scholar and author, who is editor of the Brontë Society publications) presented Lady Roberts with a bouquet of white moorland heather. When Lady Roberts, in her gentle and gracious way, stooped to kiss the child (as did Sir James), this little “human touch” called forth enthusiastic hurras, and even cheers. The applause was no less enthusiastic when Sir Edward Brotherton claimed that the Brontë Society now had a museum which would bear comparison with those established in honour of Victor Hugo, Walter Scott and Robert Burns.

Next Sir Edward invited Lady Roberts to open the Parsonage, which she did with a golden key presented by the architect, Mr W. A. Ledgard, who, later, made a speech which, next to that of Sir Edward Brotherton and Sir James Roberts, was by far the most memorable oration from anyone present. Lord Haldane, who intended to be present at the ceremony, but was prevented by illness [a former Lord Chancellor, Haldane died suddenly two weeks later], sent a written and very striking tribute to the Brontës, which was read by Canon Egerton Leigh. Then came the vote of thanks to Sir James and Lady Roberts, which after it had been proposed, seconded, and supported, was enthusiastically and unanimously carried. Other speakers were Dr. J. B. Baillie and Dr. J. Hambley Rowe, both prominent members of the Brontë Society, but one regretted that so eminent an authority on the Brontës as Mr. Jonas Bradley, could not be persuaded to say a few words. The interest of the occasion was, however, not a little heightened by the announcement that Captain Arthur Branwell, and Mr. and Mrs. Branwell, relatives of the Brontë family, as well as Mr. Holland, grandson of Mrs. Gaskell, were present, and were invited by Sir James to ascend the platform, to say a few words…

Sir James said: “It is my first, and particularly pleasant, duty to place in the hands of Sir Edward Brotherton, the honoured president of the Brontë Society, the title deeds of the property of the Haworth Parsonage, which from today becomes, as the Brontë Parsonage Museum, the permanent home of the memorials of the Brontë family. My pleasure is enhanced by the fact that in performing this duty I am returning to the well-remembered scenes of my childhood and youth and to-day is an occasion when, standing on the verge of fourscore years, these early memories are vividly reproduced.

I was born in this parish in the same week in which the unhappy Branwell Brontë died: an event followed at intervals of distressing brevity by the deaths of Emily and Anne. Haworth has seen more than a few progressive changes since those far off times. Her people have moved into closer touch with a wider world life, and a good many of her children have achieved success in commercial and other pursuits. Were this occasion less important, and less impressive, I could revive many quaint recollections of Haworth folk, and Haworth ways, as I remember them in those mid-Victorian days – a people and manners now immortalised by the writings of those whose memories we are met to honour.

It is to me a somewhat melancholy reflection that I am one of the fast narrowing circle of Haworth veterans who remember the Parsonage family. I heard Mr. Brontë preach in the pathetic blindness of his old age. Mr. Nicholls frequently visited the schoolhouse we as children ate the mid-day meal in the interval of our elementary studies, while Martha Brown, the faithful servant to whom Mr. Brontë gave the money box, the contents of which she was “to keep ready for a time of need,” is still to me a well-remembered figure…

I remember Mr. Brontë as a man most tolerant to divergencies of religious conviction. Above all these memorabilia there rises before me the frail and unforgettable figure of Charlotte Brontë, who more than once stopped to speak a kindly word to the little lad who now stands a patriarch before you. I remember her funeral one Easter-tide, and some six years afterwards that of her father. These early associations, still very dear to me, were followed in after years by exceeding delight in those creations of imaginative genius which Charlotte and her sisters have left to us. Read, and many times re-read, they have often delighted the leisure hour and released the mind from the embarrassing and strenuous labours of a protracted and industrial career…

I am no authority in literary criticism but I do think, and I have always thought, that the realistic art of the Brontës makes unique appeal, and interprets itself with peculiar vividness to those whose nativity was amongst the scenes they have so graphically portrayed. I humbly stand in the ranks of the unnumbered and world-wide multitude who have found not only delight but inspiration from these sisters, who, encumbered with many adversities, rose to such great and shining heights of endeavour and discovered to the world their extraordinary literary powers. Those gifts, matured within these walls, and under the wide horizon of the Haworth Moor, have made of our little moorland village a shrine to which pilgrims from many lands wend every year their way”…

Out of these solitudes, far removed, from the vigorous and inspiring lives of the cities, there shone forth the luminous genius of three illustrious women. The presentation of these title deeds is to me an act of homage, alike to their genius, and to the nobility of their courageous lives.’

A beautiful account, and the Brontë Parsonage Museum is just as breathtaking today. I was there on Friday, and it now owes special thanks to another great benefactor. There are some exhibits that I have never seen on display before – and some of them come thanks to the beneficence of Sir Leonard Blavatnik, who saved many Brontë items for the nation recently when they were at risk of being auctioned and never seen again.

Next week I will bring you a report of this year’s new Brontë exhibition, ‘Web Of Childhood’, but for now I present some of the pictures I took this week of some of the ground floor rooms within the parsonage.

I hope to see you again next week for another new Brontë blog post, and I hope you have a sunny happy week, wherever you are.

On this day in 1818 in Thornton, Bradford was born a girl who changed the course of literary history forever. She would grow into a very shy woman, one who would stand still and silent if a stranger appeared, yet all who were lucky enough to get to know her knew they were in the presence of someone very special indeed. I couldn’t let this day pass without paying tribute to the birthday girl. It is, of course, Emily Brontë.

Emily Jane Brontë was the fifth of six Brontë siblings, and she became incredibly close to her youngest sister Anne. Great friend of the family Ellen Nussey later recalled how Emily and Anne were like twins, and told how they walked the parsonage and the moors with their arms interlocked. It is also Ellen who paid this great tribute to Emily: “I have at this time before me the history of a mighty and passionate soul, whom every adventure that makes for the sorrow or gladness of man would seem to have passed by with averted head. It is of Emily Brontë I speak, than whom the first 50 years of this century produced no woman of greater or more incontestable genius.”

The image above contains that and other tributes paid to Emily by those who had known and love her. She struggled to communicate face to face, but she had no difficulty in communicating on the page, and little difficulty with any other challenge she faced. Emily Brontë excelled at everything she turned her hand to. She was baker of the finest bread in Haworth, she picked up and mastered languages like we can pick up a pencil, she was a fabulous artist, a wonderful poet and although she wrote only one novel it was, in my opinion, the greatest novel ever written: Wuthering Heights.

The influence and adoration of this novel will never diminish – as shown by the enduring popularity of the song ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Kate Bush. Kate shares a birthday with Emily Brontë, so happy 66th birthday Kate – born 140 years to the day after Emily.

And happy 206th birthday Emily Brontë – her brilliant work has enriched my life so much, I will never stop being grateful for this shy, towering genius. I hope you can join me on Sunday for my next Brontë blog post, and I leave you now with one of Emily’s most celebrated poems in her own handwriting: