Author: insearchofannebronte@hotmail.com

Today is a sad anniversary for Brontë lovers, as it marks the 175th anniversary of the death of Anne Brontë. The youngest of the six Brontë siblings was just 29 years old. Ellen Nussey recalled Anne’s final moments:

“She [Anne] still occupied her easy chair, looking so serene, so reliant: there was no opening for grief as yet, though all knew the separation was at hand. She clasped her hands, and reverently invoked a blessing from on high ; first upon her sister, then upon her friend, to whom she said, ‘Be a sister in my stead. Give Charlotte as much of your company as you can.’ She then thanked each for her kindness and attention. Ere long the restlessness of approaching death appeared, and she was borne to the sofa ; on being asked if she were easier, she looked gratefully at her questioner, and said, ‘It is not you who can give me ease, but soon all will be well through the merits of our Redeemer.’ Shortly after this, seeing that her sister could hardly restrain her grief, she said, ‘Take courage, Charlotte; take courage.’ Her faith never failed, and her eye never dimmed till about two o’clock, when she calmly and without a sigh passed from the temporal to the eternal. So still, and so hallowed were her last hours and moments. There was no thought of assistance or of dread. The doctor came and went two or three times. The hostess knew that death was near, yet so little was the house disturbed by the presence of the dying, and the sorrow of those so nearly bereaved, that dinner was announced as ready, through the half-opened door, as the living sister was closing the eyes of the dead one.”

Anne Brontë died on 28th May 1849 on the site of what is now the Grand Hotel, Scarborough. It was a location she loved, and she rests eternally in the churchyard of St. Mary’s church, in the shadow of Scarborough Castle. She will be remembered today in a memorial service at the self same church, and by literature lovers across the globe. Anne could never have imagined that her name would live on 175 years after her passing, but she was always a modest woman more concerned with the message she was imparting than in any fame or reward for herself.

I’m often asked just why Anne Brontë is my favourite Brontë sister. I love Charlotte and Emily too, of course, but for me it will always be Anne that holds a special place in my heart. Perhaps it is because she is the underdog, with her work unfairly neglected when compared to her more famous older sisters? I was once asked in a pub quiz ‘Who is the least famous Brontë sister?’ and, because I wanted to win, I had to give the answer I knew they would be looking for: Anne. Of course, the correct answer would be Maria or Elizabeth. The good news is that I think Anne is finally starting to get the reputation she deserves. More and more people are acknowledging that Anne Brontë deserves to be counted amongst the very top tier of British writers.

I also love Anne because her work manages to be both serious and humorous. Anne herself put it perfectly in her preface to the second edition of The Tenant Of Wildfell Hall:

“I love to give innocent pleasure. Yet, be it understood, I shall not limit my ambition to this or even to producing a perfect work of art: time and talents so spent, I should consider wasted and misapplied. Such humble talents as God has given me I will endeavour to put to their greatest use; if I am able to amuse, I will try to benefit too; and when I feel it my duty to speak an unpalatable truth, with the help of God, I will speak it, though it be to the prejudice of my name and to the detriment of my reader’s immediate pleasure as well as my own.”

Anne succeeded admirably in creating important works of literature that convey important messages. The Tenant Of Wildfell Hall was perhaps the first novel to set before readers the horrors of abusive marriages, the terror of addiction, the inequality between sexes and social classes, and the hypocrisy of organised religion and society at the time. This was an incredibly brave thing for Anne to do, and her incredible novel is as powerful and relevant today as it was in 1848. And yet, it still manages to entertain, to provide innocent pleasure – just as her wonderful debut novel Agnes Grey does.

Above all, it’s clear when we look at Anne’s life, as I have been privileged to do in two biographies and within this blog, that she was a kind, loving and compassionate woman. She adored animals, loved nature, and was religious without ever being judgmental. Anne was incredibly shy, yet she overcame this and made her way in life: she did, after all, hold down a job for more than five years, which was a far greater period than any of her siblings managed. She was a genius writer and a first class human being who had all the tools she needed to succeed in life – except one. She didn’t have time.

Anne died far too young, and her passing has surely left us without what would have been a succession of wonderful books. We can and should, therefore, treasure the novels and poetry Anne has loved us.We should also look at Anne’s life, and her passing, and remember that life is short, we never know what is waiting for us, so we must do all we can to use the talents we have to their fullest.

I leave you with Charlotte Brontë’s tribute to her youngest sister Anne, written during her time of mourning. Anne Brontë left this world 175 years ago today, but in a way she will never leave us whilst her books are still being read and enjoyed. Thank God for Anne Brontë.

“There’s little joy in life for me,
And little terror in the grave;
I’ve lived the parting hour to see
Of one I would have died to save.
Calmly to watch the failing breath,
Wishing each sigh might be the last;
Longing to see the shade of death
O’er those belovèd features cast.
The cloud, the stillness that must part
The darling of my life from me;
And then to thank God from my heart,
To thank Him well and fervently;
Although I knew that we had lost
The hope and glory of our life;
And now, benighted, tempest-tossed,
Must bear alone the weary strife.”

 

The WordPress gremlins played up again last week, and the post I had written vanished into the ether. I think I’ve found the solution now, so fingers crossed for this weekend and beyond! Last week marked an important anniversary in the life of a man who played a central role in the Brontë story – so in today’s post we are looking at first person accounts of Arthur Bell Nicholls.

In my opinion, it is easy today to get a misleading picture of Arthur. We can see him as the man who led to the death of Charlotte Brontë – that’s certainly what her best friend Ellen Nussey thought. She laid the blame for Charlotte’s death squarely at Arthur’s feet, saying he should have known she was too frail to become a mother. In this unflinching letter to Clement Shorter, Ellen calls Arthur:

“The selfish man who certainly shortened C.B.’s life, none of the sisters liked him, least of all Emily, who probably saw deeper into character than C[harlotte] and A[nne].”

It is very sad, in my opinion, that the two people who were closest to Charlotte, Ellen and Arthur, should have had such enmity for each other and in the years following Charlotte’s death their mutual dislike and distrust only grew. We should not take Ellen’s view here as gospel, however, for in fact Arthur was very popular with the Haworth parishioners who grew to know him.

An example of this came with the conduct of long time Haworth Parsonage servant Martha Brown. Martha was the daughter of John Brown, who was the Haworth sexton and friend of Branwell Brontë. Martha entered service of the Brontë family at an early age and remained until the death of Patrick Brontë in 1861.

In December 1852 Arthur Bell Nicholls made his first proposal of marriage to Charlotte Brontë, but his heartfelt plea fell on stony ground. Charlotte rejected him, and her father (who was also his employer) Patrick was furious that this assistant curate should think himself a fair match for Charlotte Brontë. A month later, amidst a bitter aftermath, Charlotte wrote to Ellen saying: “I am sorry for one other person [Arthur] whom nobody pities but me. Martha is bitter against him: John Brown says he should like to shoot him.”

Martha then was bitter also at Arthur for having had the audacity to propose to Charlotte, but they later became firm friends – so much so that when the widowed Arthur left to start a new life in Ireland, Martha followed him and became a servant in his new home. Arthur’s great niece Marjorie Gallop recalled:

“Arthur had brought the faithful maid, Martha Brown, from Haworth, and the smell of her sponge cake was generally the first thing that met visitors at the door of that hospitable house. She had not lost her Yorkshire austerity in the more easygoing Irish atmosphere and once, when she found her master making up a four at whist, she exclaimed: ‘The minister playing cards! What would the people of Haworth say!”

It is clear that Arthur has been popular not just with Martha Brown, but with the Haworth parishioners in general – a group of people not always easily pleased. After Patrick Brontë’s death in 1861, Arthur was a firm favourite amongst parishioners to succeed him as the parish curate. Indeed they gathered a petition after a service one Sunday, and within 24 hours it received over 500 signatures asking for him to be made minister. In spite of this the parish council, showing their traditional stubbornness, vetoed Arthur’s appointment. It seems that they wanted the parish to move away from its association with the Brontës – a decision which seems very shortsighted today, and more than cruel to Arthur.

Another measure of just how popular Arthur was with the Haworth Parishioners came seven years earlier. After Arthur’s rejection by Charlotte he left Haworth with the plan of becoming a missionary in Australia. During one of his final services Arthur broke down and stood there silent and motionless. Eventually he was led away from the pulpit with many of the congregation in tears. After his ‘final’ service on 25th May 1853 he was presented with this beautiful pocket watch. The inscription beneath its cover reads: “”Presented to the Revd. A. B. Nicholls by the teachers, scholars and congregation of St. MIchael’s Haworth Yorkshire May 25th 1853″

It is fitting that the watch was presented by the teachers and scholars of Haworth, for in fact Arthur Bell Nicholls was much more than simply the assistant curate to the parish priest – he was in charge of the Sunday school, of the church school which had been founded by Patrick Brontë, and he also trained promising local scholars to become teachers. One such scholar, who went on to have a long and successful career in education, was James Robinson. He had been training under Arthur when he learnt of his surprise wedding to Charlotte Brontë – it had been kept secret from all but a select few, and in fact James was one of only a handful of people present in the church for the ceremony. In 1913, as an old man, James gave an account of Charlotte and Arthur’s wedding, and he also paid this heartfelt tribute to his mentor:

“I never saw a man feel more than he [Arthur Bell Nicholls] did… no kinder-hearted man or one more anxious to see others improve their position in life, ever lived, and I myself – I might say scores besides – have him to thank for putting us in the way to make a way in life instead of remaining where we had been born, which was undoubtedly at one time one of the poorest places in England.”

As I said earlier, it is sad that a wide division grew between Arthur and Ellen Nussey after Charlotte’s death, so we should really discount their opinions on one another. Both Arthur and Ellen loved Charlotte greatly and were loved by Charlotte in return [even if that did take a little while to come to fruition in Arthur’s case.] Both worked tirelessly to protect the reputation of Charlotte Brontë after her death, but they could not work together. It seems clear to me that Arthur was a very kind man, who was treated shabbily by the parish elders of Haworth. Those who knew him, discounting Ellen, spoke universally of a large yet gentle man, an honourable man, and one who worked hard to improve the lives of the people around him.

Our thoughts now turn to Anne Brontë. Next week marks the 175th anniversary of her death, and on Tuesday I will bring you a special post to commemorate the occasion. If you are in Scarborough, Anne’s final resting place, then the newly formed Anne Brontë Association is holding a number of special events there to mark the occasion. From 2 until 3.30 Scarborough’s St. Mary’s Church is hosting a series of works celebrating Ann’s life, including, at 2.40, excerpts from a new play (by local poet and playwright Wendy Pratt) about Anne Brontë entitled ‘To Be Undone: The Last Days Of Anne Brontë’. From 4 until 5 on the 28th there is a special memorial service to Anne Brontë within the church. I wish I could have been there.

I can be there at another event to mark Anne Brontë’s life on 7th July. I’m thrilled to announce that I’m appearing at the Bradford Literary Festival alongside fellow Brontë biographer Adelle Hay and we’ll be talking all things Anne Brontë and Agnes Grey. You can find more information and buy tickets at this link: https://www.bradfordlitfest.co.uk/event/anne-Brontë-and-agnes-grey-parallels-of-resilience-and-reality

It would be lovely to see you there!

Charlotte Brontë spent periods of her life as a teacher at Roe Head school near Mirfield and at the Pensionnat Heger in Brussels, and she also served as a governess to the White family of Upperwood House in Rawdon. Charlotte was far from happy during these employments, and in today’s post we will look at a very revealing letter she sent on this day 1848 in which she looks at the roles of teachers and governesses.

The letter was sent to W. S. Williams of her publisher Smith, Elder & Co. It touches upon Charlotte’s hit novel Jane Eyre, the portrayal of a governess within it and the reality of life as a governess or teacher:

In this letter Charlotte Brontë has laid down the essential qualifications for being a teacher: a fondness of children, a sympathy for them, and a desire to impart knowledge to them. In her series of letters known as the Roe Head journals we see that Charlotte Brontë had very little patience with her pupils or sympathy for them. Charlotte also argues against government plans to bring in minimum educational standards for governesses, arguing that to be successful it is not more knowledge that they need but “self-control, endurance, fortitude, firmness.’
Perhaps the most remarkable section of this long letter by Charlotte Brontë comes in its final section. In this we see an echo of the letter poet laureate Robert Southey had sent many years before; this time it is Charlotte herself who asks if there is room for more female doctors, lawyers, artists and authoresses when many men are struggling to find a role in those professions? Charlotte’s sentence “when a woman has a little family to rear and educate and a household to conduct, her hands are full”, could have come straight from Southey’s quill. We have to rememver that whilst Charlotte was a literary genius of the first order she was also a woman of her time.

I’m not sure if my posts impart knowledge or “influence young minds”, but I hope you enjoy them and I hope you can join me next week for another new Brontë blog post.

I’m lucky enough to live in what we locals call God’s Own Country – the county of Yorkshire in the north of England. It has beautiful cities like York, and stunning and contrasting scenery, from the moorlands of the Pennines to the east coast and beautiful resorts like Scarborough that Anne Brontë loved so much. I’m in Scarborough as I type this, and have paid a visit to Anne’s final resting place of course. It also means that I’m in the county the Brontës called home, which means that I can easily make literary pilgrimages to the Brontë birthplace in Thornton and to the village which has become synonymous with them – Haworth.

Visitors to the Brontë Parsonage Museum are always thrilled most by the things that had a physical connection to the Brontës – such as the toys they played with, the table they ate at and the clothes they wore – such as the stunning dress Charlotte Brontë wore to meet William Makepeace Thackeray; an offcut from it is produced below:

Perhaps the most incredible thing of all however is the work of the Brontës themselves – and by visiting the museum you can see a carefully curated section of their poetry, letters and manuscripts. Charlotte Brontë, like her sisters Anne and Emily, was a writer of genius, of course, and her books tell us so much, but what does her handwriting tell us?

I have reproduced her handwriting below, with thanks to the Oxford University Press ‘Letters Of Charlotte Brontë’ (a series of three books which I hugely recommend to all). At one point I enlisted the help of a leading graphologist , Jean Elliott, to examine Charlotte Brontë’s handwriting. Her opinion was that Charlotte was practical and self reliant, but also over-emotional, and possibly loved singing (there’s an interesting thought!).

This seems to fit in well with what we know about Charlotte’s life and character – she was certainly a deep feeling and emotional woman. It also fits in with what expert phrenologist T. E. Browne said after feeling Charlotte’s head in 1851! Phrenology is the ‘art’ of determining someone’s character by examining the unique landscape of their head. Charlotte Brontë was a big fan of phrenology, and so her publisher George Smith arranged for her to have her bumps felt by someone who had no idea who she was (indeed, Smith told Dr. Brown that Charlotte was his sister). Here is Browne’s analysis:

‘Temperament for the most part nervous. Brain large, the anterior and superior part remarkably salient. In her domestic relations this lady will be warm and affectionate. In the care of children she will evince judicious kindness, but she is not pleased at seeing them spoiled by over-indulgence. Her fondness for any particular locality would chiefly rest upon the associations connected with it. Her attachments are strong and enduring — indeed, this is a leading element of her character; she is rather circumspect, however, in the choice of her friends, and it is well that she is so, for she will seldom meet with persons whose dispositions approach the standard of excellence with which she can entirely sympathise. Her sense of truth and justice would be offended by any dereliction of duty, and she would in such cases express her disapprobation with warmth and energy; she would not, however, be precipitate in acting thus, and rather than live in a state of hostility with those she could wish to love she would depart from them, although the breaking-off of friendship would be to her a source of great unhappiness.

The careless and unreflecting, whom she would labour to amend, might deem her punctilious and perhaps exacting; not considering that their amendment and not her own gratification prompted her to admonish. She is sensitive and is very anxious to succeed in her undertakings, but is not so sanguine as to the probability of success. She is occasionally inclined to take a gloomier view of things than perhaps the facts of the case justify; she should guard against the effect of this where her affection is engaged, for her sense of her own importance is moderate and not strong enough to steel her heart against disappointment; she has more firmness than self-reliance, and her sense of justice is of a very high order. She is deferential to the aged and those she deems worthy of respect, and possesses much devotional feeling, but dislikes fanaticism and is not given to a belief in supernatural things without questioning the probability of their existence. Money is not her idol : she values it merely for its uses; she would be liberal to the poor and compassionate to the afflicted, and when friendship calls for aid she would struggle even against her own interest to impart the required assistance – indeed, sympathy is a marked characteristic of this organisation.

Is fond of symmetry and proportion, and possesses a good perception of form, and is a good judge of colour. She is endowed with a keen perception of melody and rhythm. Her imitative powers are good, and the faculty which gives manual dexterity is well developed. These powers might have been cultivated with advantage. Is a fair calculator, and her sense of order and arrangement is remarkably good. Whatever this lady has to settle or arrange will be done with precision and taste. She is endowed with an exalted sense of the beautiful and ideal, and longs for perfection. If not a poet her sentiments are poetical, or are at least imbued with that enthusiastic glow which is characteristic of poetical feeling. She is fond of dramatic literature and the drama, especially if it be combined with music.

In its intellectual development this head is very remarkable. The forehead is at once very large and well formed. It bears the stamp of deep thoughtfulness and comprehensive understanding. It is highly philosophical. It exhibits the presence of an intellect at once perspicacious and perspicuous. There is much critical sagacity and fertility in devising resources in situations of difficulty, much originality, with a tendency to speculate and generalise. Possibly this speculative bias may sometimes interfere with the practical efficiency of some of her projects. Yet since she has scarcely an adequate share of self-reliance, and is not sanguine as to the success of her plans, there is reason to suppose that she would attend more closely to particulars, and thereby present the unsatisfactory results of hasty generalisation.

This lady possesses a fine organ of language, and can, if she has done her talents justice by exercise, express her sentiments with clearness, precision, and force – sufficiently eloquent but not verbose. In learning a language she would investigate its spirit and structure. The character of the German language would be well adapted to such an organisation. In analysing the motives of human conduct, this lady would display originality and power; but in her mode of investigating mental science she would naturally be imbued with a metaphysical bias; she would perhaps be sceptical as to the truth of Qale’s doctrine. But the study of this doctrine, this new system of mental philosophy, would give additional strength to her excellent understanding by rendering it more practical, more attentive to particulars and contribute to her happiness by imparting to her more correct notions of the dispositions of those whose acquaintance She may wish to cultivate.’

Perhaps, then, Charlotte Brontë did like music, and did like to sing, as both her handwriting and head bumps suggest this? Of course, we can all make up our own minds as to whether graphology or phrenology are exact sciences, but they’re certainly fun! I am heading off for a stroll on Scarborough South Bay beach now, following in the footsteps of Anne Brontë. I hope to see you all next Sunday for another new Brontë blog post.

Anne Brontë was one of the greatest novelists of the nineteenth century; her books Agnes Grey and The Tenant Of Wildfell Hall deserve to be ranked alongside those of her sisters Charlotte and Emily Brontë. Poetry was her first creative love however, and in her verse we often get a snapshot into her thoughts and life at the time she was putting quill to paper. We’re going to look at one such poem in today’s post: ‘Night’.

As we have seen in previous posts, Anne’s debut novel was autobiographical in many parts, and Agnes can be seen as a representation of Anne herself. Therefore we can really hear Anne’s thoughts when Agnes reveals: “When we are harassed by sorrows or anxieties, or long oppressed by any powerful feelings which we must keep to ourselves, for which we can obtain and seek no sympathy from any living creature, and which yet we cannot, or will not wholly crush, we often naturally seek relief in poetry.”

There is no better example of this than in the poem entitled ‘Night’ which Anne Brontë wrote in early 1845 (she gives no more precise date). We know that in the early part of this year, Anne was in her last few months of employment as governess at Thorp Green Hall. By the summer she had left the job she had held for over five years. On July 31st 1845 Anne wrote a diary paper giving us this commentary on her years at Thorp Green and especially at her last months there:

“Yet I was then at Thorp Green, and now I am only just escaped from it. I was wishing to leave it then and if I had known that I had four years longer to stay how wretched I should have been; but during my stay I have had some very unpleasant and undreamt of experience of human nature… Branwell has left Luddenden Foot, and been a tutor at Thorp Green, and had much tribulation and ill health.”

In fact it was Anne, whose service was highly regarded by the Robinsons of Thorp Green Hall, who had found her brother Branwell a position as governor there – a move she was to regret deeply. By the opening of 1845, it was clear to Anne that Branwell had not only returned to heavy drinking, he was also deeply in love with the mistress of the house Lydia Robinson. Fearing a scandal, Anne resigned her position on 11th June 1845 and returned to Haworth. A month later Branwell repeated that journey having been dismissed from his post.

It is against this background that Anne Brontë wrote her poem. It is only 12 lines long, yet it reveals the torment Anne was experiencing. Her days are filled with ‘solitude and woe’, despite the presence in the house of her brother. Only at night can she escape her torment and return instead to a world of bliss: the world of dreams she shares with the darling of her heart, her lifelong love who, alas, lies cold in the grave. This is, of course, the love she wrote of all her life after his 1842 death, the man who was reconstructed as hero Edward Weston in Agnes Grey and who appears in poem after poem: William Weightman.

I hope you can join me next week for another new Brontë blog post, for now I leave you with Anne Brontë’s ‘Night’:

“I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight
What may not bless my waking eyes!
And then a voice may meet my ear
That death has silenced long ago;
And hope and rapture may appear
Instead of solitude and woe.
Cold in the grave for years has lain
The form it was my bliss to see,
And only dreams can bring again
The darling of my heart to me.”

Yesterday was the 208th anniversary of a very special person indeed. They were the third of six children of a couple who had moved to Yorkshire from Ireland and Cornwall. A clergyman’s daughter who described herself as: “the weakest, puniest, least promising of his six children.” She was so shy that she once hid behind curtains all morning when an unexpected visitor arrived, and those who met her repeatedly commented on her small, frail appearance. Yet, she grew up to be fierce spirited, hugely intelligent, and with a creative mind that few could equal, she grew up to change the world of literature forever, she grew up to be Charlotte Brontë.

It was very fitting therefore that yesterday was the open day for the newly community-owned Brontë birthplace in Thornton. People had the first chance in five years to step into what was in 1816 Thornton Parsonage, to stand in the very room that had witnessed the birth of Charlotte Brontë exactly 208 years earlier. People were understandably excited, and before the door was officially opened a queue was already snaking down Thornton’s Market Street. Over 700 people attended the open day, as the organisers stopped counting at that point – the day had been successful beyond their dreams, and showed the love for the Brontës and their project.

With the open day completed the Brontë birthplace will now be closed until 2025 as renovation work is undertaken. I can’t wait to see the finished result, but the open day showed just what a magical building this is, as shown in the photographs throughout this post. The picture at the head of this post, by the way, is a postcard of the Brontë sisters outside Thornton Parsonage specially commissioned by the Brontë Birthplace.

Huge congratulations must go to all involved in this project, and its prime movers Christa Ackroyd and Steve Stanworth were at the open door talking, meeting and greeting. Another highlight was a fabulous actress playing Nancy de Garrs and displaying a fine way with accents, as well as bringing Nancy and the young Brontës to life! 

It was also thrilling to see the scullery turned for the day into an educational activity centre for children. The youngsters seemed to love creating bonnets, Brontë inspired word wheels and more and this educational aspect will be a key feature of the reopened Brontë Birthplace – as well as giving people the incredible opportunity of staying in rooms once lived in by the Brontës!

It is clear that the Brontë Birthplace will be a very special place indeed, and a necessary place of pilgrimage for all Brontë fans. It’s also, of course, close to Haworth so people will be able to visit both parsonages in one day or weekend. I’m so happy at all that has been achieved, so well done to all who put in so much hard work, who bought shares and who did their bit to bring this campaign to fruition. Charlotte Brontë, on her birthday, would be very proud. Oh, and of course it was good to see Anne Brontë remembered too, both in the lovely mural across from the parsonage (the initials below the figures are AB, CB, C and H, and EB – I’m sure you can decipher the code) and on this lovely plate on display.

I got to experience the Bronte birthplace with the love of my life by my side, which made it even more special. I hope you all have a special week ahead of you, and I hope to see you on Sunday for another new Brontë blog post.

Last week I was excited to bring you the great news about the Brontë birthplace, and I’m just as excited now as it’s only one day until its public open day! With that in mind in today’s post I’m going to bring you pictures of Thornton from the archives.

Thornton of course is where the story began for Charlotte, Branwell, Emily and Anne Brontë – although elder sisters Maria and Elizabeth were born during Patrick Brontë’s earlier incumbency at Hartshead. Thornton still retains its small village charm, although it has changed much of course in the 200 years or so since the Brontë family called it home. This postcard of ‘Brontëland’ shows some of the buildings that would have been there at the time of the Brontës.

Photography as we know it today was invented in 1822, the year after the Brontës left Thornton for Haworth so there are no images of Thornton from the time they lived there – although debate still rages about whether images of the Brontë sisters as young women exist. We do, however, have these images of 72 Market Street, Thornton from the late 19th or early 20th centuries. By that time the building had ceased to be a Church of England parsonage and had instead become a shop.

The Brontës are surely Bradford’s most famous daughters, which is why it’s so fitting that the Brontë birthplace will fully open to the public next year when Bradford is the UK’s official City of Culture. A newspaper article about ‘Bygone Bradford’ brought us this image of the Brontë Bell Chapel in Thornton. Now a beautifully maintained ruin across the road from the present church, this was the church as it was when Patrick Brontë ministered there – in fact it was Patrick who had the grand bell tower installed which has given the chapel its name ever since.

Now we fast forward to 2016, as Charlotte Brontë’s bicentenary celebrations gripped literature lovers, Thornton Parsonage was now trading as Emily’s, a delicatessen and cafe which still gave a loving nod to the Brontës – and even had my own biography of Anne Brontë in place above the fireplace by which she had been born.

When the De Luca family who owned Emily’s put the building up for sale a year later its future became uncertain, as it had been on many occasions over the last century and more. Nevertheless, Mark De Luca did kindly allow me to look around the parsonage as it was then which resulted in  these images:

 

Fast forward to today and at last we can say that the Brontë birthplace in Thornton has been saved for the nation, and there are some very exciting plans due to come to fruition. You can find out more by visiting the open day next Sunday, 21st April, between 11am and 4pm. I will be there at some point, but you can also join me here next Sunday for another new Brontë blog post.

 

In today’s very special post I bring you amazing news about the Brontë birthplace in Thornton. Whilst Haworth has become synonymous with the Brontë sisters, it is the former parsonage on Market Street, Thornton that saw the births of Charlotte, Branwell, Emily and Anne Brontë.

The building was until recently a cafe called Emily’s but was closed to the public after its owners put it up for sale. It faced a very uncertain future, as it had at many times down the decades. Once more there were worries it could be bought by property developers and closed to the public forever – but thankfully, a local group of Brontë enthusiasts came to the rescue. The Brontë Birthplace Campaign was formed, and an ambitious crowdfunding project was put in place. Brontë fans from across the world came together to support the campaign, and I’m thrilled to announce today that the campaign was successful. The Brontë birthplace is saved for the community, and for the literature loving public, forever!

I was thrilled to be invited along to a preview day by two indefatigable stalwarts of the campaign: Yorkshire broadcasting legend Christa Ackroyd (no relation to Tabby Aykroyd of course, she gets asked that a lot) and Steve Stanworth, who does so much to preserve the nearby Brontë Bell Chapel in Thornton. All the fabulous photographs in this post (including the one at its head) are courtesy of, and copyright of Brontë country photographer Mark Davis. Here are more details from some of those at the heart of this wonderful campaign:

“The Brontë birthplace in Thornton, Bradford, where Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë were born in front of the parlour fireplace is now saved and officially in public ownership for the first time in its 200 year history.

Brontë Birthplace Limited, a community benefit society, has now taken over the small terraced house on Market Street thanks to a share offer which attracted more than 700 individual investors and significant grants from Bradford City of Culture 2025 and the Community Ownership Fund, under the Government’s levelling up agenda, amounting to more than £650,000 raised. It is a monumental achievement which means the legacy of the most famous sibling authors the literary world has ever known can truly be celebrated throughout Brontë country from cradle to grave and beyond.

At last we have the keys and the hard work has begun to restore the grade 2* blue plaque building to open in time for Bradford City of Culture 2025, when visitors will be invited to walk in the footsteps of its most famous residents and sit in the community cafe beside the original fireplace, or even stay in the bedrooms where the young girls slept.

A full programme for schools, universities, literary enthusiasts, artists and creatives is being planned and the house has already unveiled some hidden secrets including the hitherto unseen servant’s staircase, the Rev Patrick Brontë’s wardrobe and the original deeds stretching back more than two centuries.

Saving this little house, which has been locked and empty for four years now, has been the culmination of a ten year ambition and a two year campaign . Very soon the public who have supported us every step of the way will be given first glimpse inside this hitherto unexplored gem which is considered the missing piece of the jigsaw in the incredible story of the Brontës, which saw three humble Bradford girls succeed on a world wide stage due to their strong sense of purpose, their passion, determination and Yorkshire grit. We like to think they would have found the same virtues in the entirely voluntary committee who have now bought the house and plan to bring it home for Bradford, Yorkshire, the nation and Brontë enthusiasts the world over.”

Nigel West (Patron, and living relative of Charlotte Brontë’s widower Arthur Bell Nicholls)

“This has to be the most significant purchase for the literary world in the country this year. If you consider how important we believe Shakespeare ‘s birthplace to be , here we have a house where not one but three literary giants were born, now saved for the nation.”

Ann Dinsdale (Chief Curator of the Brontë Parsonage Museum, Haworth)

“This humble house has had a chequered history and the Society have been fully supportive of the efforts of the Brontë Birthplace Committee to ensure the public have access to what is such an important building in the Brontë story. It is here which Patrick describes as having spent his happiest days and it is important to remember that although he and his wife Maria only lived for five years it is this very place where Charlotte, Branwell , Emily and Anne were born in front of the fireplace to add to their family of two elder daughters, Maria and Elizabeth who sadly the Reverend Brontë was to lose at a young age along with his wife Maria when they moved to Haworth . It should be remembered that It is in Thornton that they socialised for the first and seemingly last time. It will have been a busy noisy happy home and a significant part of their story which will attract visitors from all over the world and add greatly to the offerings already available in Brontë country.”

Steve Stanworth (Vice Chair)

“This is the culmination of a ten year plan to buy the birthplace not just for Brontë lovers but for young people in the same city where the three famous authors were born to inspire them to see their own potential using the sisters as role models . Now the hard work begins to create an unforgettable experience for visitors who will be able to sit with a coffee besides the famous fireplace where they were born, or even stay overnight in the very rooms where they slept as children. It has been a very emotional day to finally get the keys to what is surely one of the most important buildings in Bradford ‘s cultural past.”

Christa Ackroyd (Education Committee Member)

“To achieve support of more than £650,000 is incredible. Two major grants from Bradford City of Culture 2025 and the Community Ownership Fund which comes under the government’s levelling up agenda have significantly helped us with our ambitious plan to raise such a large amount of money in what for many are difficult times.

But it is also to the credit of more than 700 individual investors from people just down the street to all over the world who have bought shares in the humble Brontë home that has stood empty for years that I want to say a special thankyou for seeing its potential . This little house has big plans for the future. It can and will inspire particularly young people to walk in the footsteps of greatness and believe they too can achieve great things. Now it is safe we can breathe a sigh of relief but the hard work begins to being it back to life in time for 2025 and Bradford’s big year.

Bradford has been much maligned in the past. A significant number of children live in poverty and suffer from low expectations . We aim to use this little house to show no matter who you are or what your beginnings you can dream big if you never give up , just like the three sisters who were born here never have up on their ambitions to write stories still read the world over today.”

The hard work is only just beginning, but this incredible building’s future is now safe and secure – for us all! It will become an educational centre, a centre for the arts, a cafe, even a place where people can stay in the rooms where the young Brontës lived and breathed. Let us have some more great news:

“An open day is planned to celebrate Charlotte’s birthday on Sunday April 21st from 11 til 4 when everyone is welcome at the house to celebrate its purchase before it is closed for major structural work after which it will spring back into life in 2025 as a beacon of ambition and possibility for those who will then be able to experience its magical sense of the past and its promise for the future.”

I hope to see as many of you as possible on 21st April at the Brontë birthplace in Thornton! There will be more on Thornton, and its former parsonage, in my usual post on Sunday. Tonight, and this weekend, is a time for celebration for all those in the campaign, all its backers, all the people we owe so much to. It’s a time of celebration for Thornton, for Bradford, for all across the world who hold the memory of those three incredible sisters dear!

 

For Brontë fans today is a day which brings mixed emotions. It is Easter Sunday, a day of joy and one that would have been especially beloved of the religious Brontë family. Today, also, however, marks one of the very saddest Brontë anniversaries. The Brontë novels and lives show what we all know, that life brings its challenges but it also brings its joys and triumphs. On this special day let us choose to look at the joyous side of life by looking at proposals in the Brontë works.

Agnes Grey

Whilst all Brontë novels possess some level of autobiography, I believe it is Agnes Grey by Anne Brontë which draws most from its author’s life, and from her dreams of what her life could have been. I also believe, as regular blog readers will know (and please do hit that ‘subscribe’ button if you haven’t already done so), that Anne Brontë was in love with her father’s assistant curate William Weightman.

Alas, Weightman caught cholera after visiting a sick parishioner and died far too young. Anne Brontë was denied her dreams of a proposal, a marriage and a loving life to follow, but she determined to give herself that happy ending in her debut novel. It is quite clear to me that Agnes is Anne, and Reverend Weston is Reverend Weightman, which makes the following understated proposal scene even more touching:

‘“I went to get ready, and was down again in a few minutes; though, of course, I took a little more pains with my attire than if I had merely been going out on some shopping expedition alone. The thunder-shower had certainly had a most beneficial effect upon the weather, and the evening was most delightful. Mr. Weston would have me to take his arm; he said little during our passage through the crowded streets, but walked very fast, and appeared grave and abstracted. I wondered what was the matter, and felt an indefinite dread that something unpleasant was on his mind; and vague surmises, concerning what it might be, troubled me not a little, and made me grave and silent enough. But these fantasies vanished upon reaching the quiet outskirts of the town; for as soon as we came within sight of the venerable old church, and the – hill, with the deep blue beyond it, I found my companion was cheerful enough.

“I’m afraid I’ve been walking too fast for you, Agnes,” said he: “in my impatience to be rid of the town, I forgot to consult your convenience; but now we’ll walk as slowly as you please. I see, by those light clouds in the west, there will be a brilliant sunset, and we shall be in time to witness its effect upon the sea, at the most moderate rate of progression.”

When we had got about half-way up the hill, we fell into silence again; which, as usual, he was the first to break.

“My house is desolate yet, Miss Grey,” he smilingly observed, “and I am acquainted now with all the ladies in my parish, and several in this town too; and many others I know by sight and by report; but not one of them will suit me for a companion; in fact, there is only one person in the world that will: and that is yourself; and I want to know your decision?”

“Are you in earnest, Mr. Weston?”

“In earnest! How could you think I should jest on such a subject?”

He laid his hand on mine, that rested on his arm: he must have felt it tremble – but it was no great matter now.

“I hope I have not been too precipitate,” he said, in a serious tone. “You must have known that it was not my way to flatter and talk soft nonsense, or even to speak the admiration that I felt; and that a single word or glance of mine meant more than the honied phrases and fervent protestations of most other men.”

I said something about not liking to leave my mother, and doing nothing without her consent.

“I settled everything with Mrs. Grey, while you were putting on your bonnet,” replied he. “She said I might have her consent, if I could obtain yours; and I asked her, in case I should be so happy, to come and live with us – for I was sure you would like it better. But she refused, saying she could now afford to employ an assistant, and would continue the school till she could purchase an annuity sufficient to maintain her in comfortable lodgings; and, meantime, she would spend her vacations alternately with us and your sister, and should be quite contented if you were happy. And so now I have overruled your objections on her account. Have you any other?”

“No – none.”

“You love me then?” said he, fervently pressing my hand.

“Yes.”’

Jane Eyre

We have just witnessed a simple, and simply beautiful, proposal scene. The proposal scene which follows from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë was rather more complicated. Not merely because (spoiler alert) Rochester is already married (a fact which Jane doesn’t know at this point) but because of the class difference between the protagonists – Jane believes that Rochester is going to marry the wealthy Blanche Ingram and she is therefore planning to leave his service, but Rochester has other plans:

‘“Pity!” he said, and sighed and paused. “It is always the way of events in this life,” he continued presently: “no sooner have you got settled in a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out to you to rise and move on, for the hour of repose is expired.”

“Must I move on, sir?” I asked. “Must I leave Thornfield?”

“I believe you must, Jane. I am sorry, Janet, but I believe indeed you must.”

This was a blow: but I did not let it prostrate me.

“Well, sir, I shall be ready when the order to march comes.”

“It is come now – I must give it to-night.”

“Then you are going to be married, sir?”

“Ex-act-ly – pre-cise-ly: with your usual acuteness, you have hit the nail straight on the head.”

“Soon, sir?”

“Very soon, my – that is, Miss Eyre: and you’ll remember, Jane, the first time I, or Rumour, plainly intimated to you that it was my intention to put my old bachelor’s neck into the sacred noose, to enter into the holy estate of matrimony – to take Miss Ingram to my bosom, in short (she’s an extensive armful: but that’s not to the point – one can’t have too much of such a very excellent thing as my beautiful Blanche): well, as I was saying – listen to me, Jane! You’re not turning your head to look after more moths, are you? That was only a lady-clock, child, ‘flying away home.’ I wish to remind you that it was you who first said to me, with that discretion I respect in you – with that foresight, prudence, and humility which befit your responsible and dependent position – that in case I married Miss Ingram, both you and little Adèle had better trot forthwith. I pass over the sort of slur conveyed in this suggestion on the character of my beloved; indeed, when you are far away, Janet, I’ll try to forget it: I shall notice only its wisdom; which is such that I have made it my law of action. Adèle must go to school; and you, Miss Eyre, must get a new situation.”

“Yes, sir, I will advertise immediately: and meantime, I suppose – ” I was going to say, “I suppose I may stay here, till I find another shelter to betake myself to:” but I stopped, feeling it would not do to risk a long sentence, for my voice was not quite under command.

“In about a month I hope to be a bridegroom,” continued Mr. Rochester; “and in the interim, I shall myself look out for employment and an asylum for you.”

“Thank you, sir; I am sorry to give – ”

“Oh, no need to apologise! I consider that when a dependent does her duty as well as you have done yours, she has a sort of claim upon her employer for any little assistance he can conveniently render her; indeed I have already, through my future mother-in-law, heard of a place that I think will suit: it is to undertake the education of the five daughters of Mrs. Dionysius O’Gall of Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland. You’ll like Ireland, I think: they’re such warm-hearted people there, they say.”

“It’s a long way off, sir.”

“No matter – a girl of your sense will not object to the voyage or the distance.”

“Not the voyage, but the distance: and then the sea is a barrier – ”

“From what, Jane?”

“From England and from Thornfield: and – ”

“Well?”

“From you, sir.”

I said this almost involuntarily, and, with as little sanction of free will, my tears gushed out. I did not cry so as to be heard, however; I avoided sobbing. The thought of Mrs. O’Gall and Bitternutt Lodge struck cold to my heart; and colder the thought of all the brine and foam, destined, as it seemed, to rush between me and the master at whose side I now walked, and coldest the remembrance of the wider ocean – wealth, caste, custom intervened between me and what I naturally and inevitably loved.

“It is a long way,” I again said.

“It is, to be sure; and when you get to Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland, I shall never see you again, Jane: that’s morally certain. I never go over to Ireland, not having myself much of a fancy for the country. We have been good friends, Jane; have we not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when friends are on the eve of separation, they like to spend the little time that remains to them close to each other. Come! we’ll talk over the voyage and the parting quietly half-an-hour or so, while the stars enter into their shining life up in heaven yonder: here is the chestnut tree: here is the bench at its old roots. Come, we will sit there in peace to-night, though we should never more be destined to sit there together.” He seated me and himself.

“It is a long way to Ireland, Janet, and I am sorry to send my little friend on such weary travels: but if I can’t do better, how is it to be helped? Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?”

I could risk no sort of answer by this time: my heart was still.

“Because,” he said, “I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you – especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, – you’d forget me.”

“That I never should, sir: you know – ” Impossible to proceed.

“Jane, do you hear that nightingale singing in the wood? Listen!”

In listening, I sobbed convulsively; for I could repress what I endured no longer; I was obliged to yield, and I was shaken from head to foot with acute distress. When I did speak, it was only to express an impetuous wish that I had never been born, or never come to Thornfield.

“Because you are sorry to leave it?”

The vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, was claiming mastery, and struggling for full sway, and asserting a right to predominate, to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last: yes, – and to speak.

“I grieve to leave Thornfield: I love Thornfield: – I love it, because I have lived in it a full and delightful life, – momentarily at least. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. I have not been buried with inferior minds, and excluded from every glimpse of communion with what is bright and energetic and high. I have talked, face to face, with what I reverence, with what I delight in, – with an original, a vigorous, an expanded mind. I have known you, Mr. Rochester; and it strikes me with terror and anguish to feel I absolutely must be torn from you for ever. I see the necessity of departure; and it is like looking on the necessity of death.”

“Where do you see the necessity?” he asked suddenly.

“Where? You, sir, have placed it before me.”

“In what shape?”

“In the shape of Miss Ingram; a noble and beautiful woman, – your bride.”

“My bride! What bride? I have no bride!”

“But you will have.”

“Yes; – I will! – I will!” He set his teeth.

“Then I must go: – you have said it yourself.”

“No: you must stay! I swear it – and the oath shall be kept.”

“I tell you I must go!” I retorted, roused to something like passion. “Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton? – a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! – I have as much soul as you, – and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh; – it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal, – as we are!”

“As we are!” repeated Mr. Rochester – “so,” he added, enclosing me in his arms, gathering me to his breast, pressing his lips on my lips: “so, Jane!”

“Yes, so, sir,” I rejoined: “and yet not so; for you are a married man – or as good as a married man, and wed to one inferior to you – to one with whom you have no sympathy – whom I do not believe you truly love; for I have seen and heard you sneer at her. I would scorn such a union: therefore I am better than you – let me go!”

“Where, Jane? To Ireland?”

“Yes – to Ireland. I have spoken my mind, and can go anywhere now.”

“Jane, be still; don’t struggle so, like a wild frantic bird that is rending its own plumage in its desperation.”

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you.”

Another effort set me at liberty, and I stood erect before him.

“And your will shall decide your destiny,” he said: “I offer you my hand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions.”

“You play a farce, which I merely laugh at.”

“I ask you to pass through life at my side – to be my second self, and best earthly companion.”

“For that fate you have already made your choice, and must abide by it.”

“Jane, be still a few moments: you are over-excited: I will be still too.”

A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away – away – to an indefinite distance – it died. The nightingale’s song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept. Mr. Rochester sat quiet, looking at me gently and seriously. Some time passed before he spoke; he at last said – 

“Come to my side, Jane, and let us explain and understand one another.”

“I will never again come to your side: I am torn away now, and cannot return.”

“But, Jane, I summon you as my wife: it is you only I intend to marry.”

I was silent: I thought he mocked me.

“Come, Jane – come hither.”

“Your bride stands between us.”

He rose, and with a stride reached me.

“My bride is here,” he said, again drawing me to him, “because my equal is here, and my likeness. Jane, will you marry me?”’

It is worth remembering when we read this that Charlotte Brontë, as she explicitly stated in a letter, saw Rochester as a romantic hero who had been wronged by fate, and whose intentions were honourable. This is such a powerful scene, and I think it was portrayed brilliantly in the 1983 tv adaptation starring Timothy Dalton and Zelah Clarke:

https://youtu.be/lyTpzvElJck

Charlotte Brontë eventually had her own real-life proposal scene, but at first she turned Arthur Bell Nicholls down. Their romance grew, however, and they eventually married and found great happiness. It was an all too brief happiness, for on this day 1855 Charlotte Brontë died in the cruellest of circumstances: when she was pregnant.

The Easter story is one of hope triumphing over devastating loss, the hope of eternal life, of eternal love. In a very real way Charlotte Brontë still lives today, for as long as this Earth spins people will read her books, know her name, and love her.

I had a proposal scene of my own this week. I’ve been on holiday in Lapland with the love of my life, and I’m thrilled to say that she has agreed to become my wife. I’m over the moon with happiness, so may I wish you all a very Happy Easter and I hope you can join me here at the earlier time of next Friday, the 5th of April, for some more good Brontë news!

Spring has not yet sprung and we are still enjoying dark nights where you can snuggle up with a good book. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë is one of those books that you can read time and time again, and of course many people do just that. In today’s post we’re going to look at one of the enduring mysteries of the book: just where was the real Thornfield Hall?

 

Like all of the Brontë novels (Wuthering Heights to a lesser extent, although it was inspired at least in part by a real life family feud) Jane Eyre has autobiographical elements. Dig deep under the surface of many great books and you can often find a trace of the author and their life, but in the Brontë books you don’t have to dig too far. The eponymous Jane has a passing resemblance to Charlotte Brontë herself, and Rochester has more than a passing resemblance to Charlotte’s unrequited love Constantin Heger – which is perhaps why Charlotte so stridently defended Rochester against all charges that he was a less than romantic hero. The shadowy, brooding family seat of Thornfield Hall is almost as imposing a character in its own right – but did Charlotte conjure it from her magnificent imagination or was it a building she knew?

Just like the Wuthering Heights which gave Emily’s novel its name there are many buildings which have claimed a connection to Thornfield, or had it claimed for them. One such building is The Rydings, or simply Rydings, which was the Birstall residence of the Nussey family – amongst whom was Charlotte Brontë’s loyal best friend Ellen Nussey.

The Nusseys were a wealthier and better connected family than the Brontës, as shown by the fact that two of Ellen’s older brothers became royal apothecaries to the monarch. Charlotte must have loved her visits to Rydings not only because of the love and friendship waiting for her there but also because of its grandeur compared to draughty, crowded Haworth Parsonage. We know that it was at Rydings that Charlotte Brontë corrected the proofs of Jane Eyre, and yet she somehow managed that without Ellen discovering what she was doing or that she had written a book.

Rydings plays an important role in the Jane Eyre story, but could it also have been the inspiration for Thornfield Hall? Rydings today has a rather less grand purpose given its historic and literary significance, as it is now used as a reception building for a surrounding paint factory but we can still see its castellated design – a feature shared by Thnornfield. On the whole, however, I feel Rydings is an unlikely Thornfield Hall. It’s certainly not small, but it’s not as large as Thornfield is in its depiction, and it was a place associated with friendship and happiness in Charlotte’s mind, not with the drama and despair we see associated with Rochester’s home.

Another popular option is Norton Conyers House. The house is often simply referred to as Norton Conyers, the name of the nearby village, and it dates back to medieval times. Located near Ripon in North Yorkshire it is a fine looking house, but without any battlements that Bertha could have toppled from. It is through Bertha, however, that Norton Conyers gains its Eyre-ish connection.

It is said that a former owner of Norton Conyers kept his mad wife locked up in an attic accessible via a stone stairway. The room is still bare and forbidding and has the unfortunate title ‘Mad Woman’s Room’. This was enough proof for The Guardian to declare, in 2004, that the mystery of Thornfield Hall had been solved forever, but they had arrived at the wrong solution. Charlotte Brontë did make a brief visit there in 1839, and would have heard the story which may well have stayed in her mind and influenced the tragic tale of Bertha and Edward. There were many such sad stories at the time however, and indeed Charlotte knew of a woman who had been kept a prisoner in Haworth itself. Norton Conyers is a grand house, but it bears little physical resemblance to Thornfield. On another note, the name of the family who have owned Norton Conyers since the 17th century is the Graham family. When Anne Brontë came to write of a woman who was trapped by an abusive husband, she gave the tenant of Wildfell Hall the name of Helen Graham.

One of my followers on Twitter, Jo Welch, recently tweeted me with another possible Thornfield candidate: Netherby Hall in Cumbria. This hall was also owned by the Graham family, and its large and impressive exterior looks much more like Thornfield.

Jo’s four times great-grandfather Lister Ellis was steward of Netherby Hall and his son, another Lister Ellis, is said to have known Charlotte and Emily Brontë. It is said, so Jo informs me, that Charlotte attended dinner at the hall, where she heard a tale of a staircase hiding a mad wife! It may be, however, that Netherby is simply too grand to be Thornfield.

Three fine buildings and three fine candidates, but for me there is no mystery at all. It is clear where Thornfield Hall is, because Charlotte Brontë told us all along. In the summer of 1845 Charlotte Brontë spent an extended period of time at Hathersage Parsonage with Ellen. They were preparing the parsonage for the return of Ellen’s brother Henry Nussey – the newly appointed vicar of Hathersage was also newly married and away on his honeymoon. Whilst in Hathersage, Charlotte became well acquainted with the leading family of the district – the Eyre family.

This is shown in a letter Ellen sent from Hathersage to her friend Mary Gorham on 22nd July 1845 in which she gives a detailed account of her time in the Peak District with Charlotte Brontë. In this letter Ellen writes: “At North Lees we have paid two or three visits… We had Mrs. Eyre’s pony and we went a little way up cave dale.”

 

North Lees Hall, on the perimeter of Hathersage, was the family home of the Eyre family. It’s pictured above, and as you can see it has the castellated roof of Thornfield, not to mention the same bleakly beautiful setting. But the biggest clue of all, the conclusive proof in my opinion, is its name. Charlotte Brontë was hiding the truth in plain sight all along. 

North is an anagram of Thorn and the following meaning of Lees is taken from the Ancestry website:

Therefore lees equals fields or field, and so North Lees becomes Thornfield. There can be no doubt; like all great writers, Charlotte Brontë may also have taken snippets of inspiration from multiple sources, but Morton in Jane Eyre is Hathersage and Thornfield is North Lees Hall. I hope you can join me next week for another new Brontë blog post.