In Search of Anne Brontë

by Nick Holland

  If, as seems almost certain, ‘What you Please’ is a self-portrait, there is another possible interpretation of its title. Could this attractive picture have been intended as a gift for someone, even if she never dared to present it, a special person who had entered her life months earlier and who Anne knew would appreciate it? Was she saying, ‘This woman is what you please’?

  Just as she did in her writing, Anne was using art to express who she was, and who she wanted to be. Perhaps her most significant drawing of them all was crafted in November 1839, when she was coming towards the end of her time with the Ingham family. It is entitled ‘Sunrise Over Sea’, and in it we see a young woman in a long flowing dress looking out over a seascape. She has her right hand to her forehead, as if she is searching for something far out on the horizon. There is a boat on the sea and gulls in the air, and dominating the centre of the picture is a glorious sun, whose beams are cutting through a pre-dawn gloom. We then notice that the woman is standing precariously on the edge of a rocky precipice, but what does this mean?

  Some commentators have speculated that this may be simply an art exercise, a copy of an earlier painting, but the facts don’t support that. No ‘original’ for such a painting has been found, and art lessons for women at this time would have concentrated on painting nature and still life objects, rather than figurative work. This is an explosive picture, full of symbolism, which has come straight from Anne’s mind. She is standing on the edge of something, but if she takes one wrong step she will be doomed. She is being called to something, or someone, but it seems impossible for her to reach it, or them. She has a white handkerchief in her left hand, but is it to wave goodbye or to signal that she is coming? Above all, the painting shows the beauty of the sea.

  We only see the back of the woman, but the long wavy hair again signals that this is Anne drawing herself. At the time it was drawn, she had never seen the sea, but under the Robinsons all that changed. Every summer the Robinson family would decamp to Scarborough, on the east coast, for a month, and as governess Anne would have to accompany them. This part of her job, at least, was not a chore, and she fell in love at first glance with the sea and with Scarborough itself.

  Scarborough at this time was a very chic and exclusive resort. The taking of ‘seaside holidays’ was a relatively new concept in the 1840s, and it had been embraced by the upper classes. The Robinson family would always stay at the prime location of ‘Wood’s Lodgings’, which were on St Nicholas’ Cliff, overlooking Scarborough’s north bay.

  The rather lacklustre name does not do justice to the luxury of the accommodation. Wood’s Lodgings were centred upon a large, elegant and spacious regency house, with an uninterrupted view of the sea. The famous Grand Hotel of Scarborough now stands on the site. The great and good of Yorkshire society would go there in summer to see and be seen, and the local newspaper would report who was staying at the resort on a week-to-week basis. Thus we learn that in July 1842, as well as the Robinson family, Anne’s previous employers, the Inghams, were in town. Anne would bow her head formally when she saw them, and give silent thanks that she no longer had to endure them or their children.

  Scarborough had much to offer its wealthy visitors. There were regular concerts given at the town hall, which Anne would have been delighted to attend in the role as chaperone to the Robinson girls. An elegant bridge led from Wood’s Lodgings to the new Scarborough Spa and the Pomona, where concerts, dances and balls were also held. These were attended by lords and ladies, ennobled gentry and recently enriched manufacturers. Anne would have delighted in being in the background at these events, observing how the upper classes dressed, behaved and talked, storing up details that she would later use in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. She was the unseen watcher whose pen would later turn her into an anonymous assassin of their class.

  The spa was also renowned for its health giving qualities, and Anne would hear tales of the seemingly miraculous recovery of people who had breathed the air and descended into the waters. On other occasions Anne would accompany the Robinson girls on walks along the beach, although she would have to admonish them for running ahead and leaving her behind. She took donkey rides in a carriage but insisted on taking the reins herself, as she did not like the way that the handlers would admonish and encourage the donkeys.

  At night Anne listened to the sea roaring below her. Looking out of the window she could watch it crash against the rocks, throwing a white explosion of foam into the air. These were the nights that Anne liked best. There was something hypnotic about the sea, and the stormier and louder it was, the more she loved it. Men would come and go for millennia, as they always had, but this sea would still keep crashing against the rocks. It spoke of God’s power, of hope and eternity. The sea would take on the same mysticism for Anne that the moors held for Emily, and she always longed to return to the coast when she was away from it, even in her very last days.

  The summers in Scarborough would be the undisputed highlights of her time with the Robinson family, but this single month of happiness could not eradicate the growing displeasure she felt during the rest of the year at Thorp Green. I wonder how Charlotte and Emily are getting on, she would think as she lay in bed looking out at the stars that hung over them all; I wonder how our plans are progressing?

  After Aunt Branwell’s funeral she would get the chance to hear first hand how their Belgian adventure was going. Charlotte would enthuse about the wonderful country that Belgium was and how incredible the architecture of Brussels was. Typically, however, she could find little praise for her fellow pupils. The majority of her classmates were younger than she and Emily, and they were Catholics, a religion that Charlotte found idolatrous and intolerable. Nevertheless, she would put up with them, as she felt she was making great progress in her learning and her language skills.

  Emily was less enthusiastic. She had been reserved as always at the Pensionnat Heger, but her added maturity had at least enabled her to overcome her homesickness. Whilst her teachers and fellow pupils would remember her as a shy and quiet student, they also praised her attitude and efforts in class.

  The initial plan had been for Charlotte and Emily to spend half a year in Brussels and then return home, but at the end of this half a year the Hegers, who ran the school, approached them with an offer. They could continue their lessons for free if Charlotte would consent to teach English and if Emily would teach piano. Before Emily could raise any objection, Charlotte had accepted.

  With their aunt now dead, however, it was obvious that plans would have to change again. Their ageing father needed a member of the family to look after his daily needs as he carried out his clerical work. Emily volunteered once more, and this time there could be no objections. She had done her duty this time, and she had even found some brief enjoyment in the change of scenery. Their fellow Brussels dweller Mary Taylor had written, ‘Charlotte and Emily are well, not only in health, but in mind and hope. They are content in their present position and even gay.’12

  When the opportunity presented itself, however, Emily was still keen to remain in Haworth. She was home at last, and she would never again leave it for any length of time.

  When the formalities of the funeral were over, Charlotte kissed her family goodbye and returned to Brussels, but it was neither the architecture nor the lessons that she was keen on returning to: it was the professor in charge of the institute, Constantin Heger. He was a man in his early 30s, ostensibly employed like the other teachers by his wife, Claire, who owned the Pensionnat. He was tall, striking and an excellent speaker. He could be stern and demanding with his pupils, yet slowly but surely Charlotte fell in love with him.

  She would remain in Brussels until the start of 1844, and after Charlotte’s return to Haworth she sent the professor a string of letters professing her barely concealed passion.13 Her declarations never received a reply, and indeed Heger ripped them to pieces, although for some reason his wife pieced them back together again. We can imagine the argumen
ts they caused, as Constantin was forced to declare that he had never encouraged their erstwhile pupil.

  Although Charlotte had returned to Brussels after her aunt’s funeral, there was one other member of the family who had remained at home. Branwell had seen yet another job come to a premature end, after his failures as a portrait painter and tutor. He had lately been employed as a stationmaster on the newly formed railway at Luddendenfoot near Halifax. It was a position that paid well and offered opportunities for advancement, yet he spent much of his time drinking with new-found friends in local hostelries instead of at the station itself.

  His greatest friend there was Francis Grundy, a railway engineer. Grundy later said that ‘Had a position been chosen for this strange creature with the express purpose of driving him several steps to the bad, this must have been it.’14

  Grundy explained how Branwell had little to do during the day except consort with ‘wild, rollicking, hard-headed, half-educated manufacturers’.15 This was an opportunity that Branwell did make the most of, to the extent that he failed to notice when a clerk began stealing from the station. Branwell was summarily dismissed for his ‘constant carelessness’ and failure to supervise his staff.

  Branwell had failed yet again, and he bore it hard. His days would be spent carousing with friends at the Haworth hostelries or travelling to see them at his favourite haunts in Halifax, drinking away the money he had borrowed from his family and friends. This was further heartbreak for Anne. Although Branwell was sometimes cruel to her, at one point saying she was ‘nothing, absolutely nothing’16, she remembered the young man full of promise he had once been. She remembered the boy who had read to her and guided her on her early walks across the moors, the boy who had done sketches of fairy-tale castles to bring a smile to her face.

  The possibility of redemption was at the centre of Anne’s faith, and she believed it could transform Branwell’s life too. If he could find a job and hold on to it, he would regain his self-respect and his control. He had been a close friend of her beloved Weightman, so surely he must have seen the good in Branwell as well? The idea had been sprung, and she immediately put it into action.

  Anne explained to Mr and Mrs Robinson that she thought their son Edmund would fare better with a male tutor, and she knew just the person to fill the role. That they so readily agreed to Anne’s suggestion is another indication of the esteem they held her in. When Anne returned to Thorp Green after the Christmas holiday of 1842, she had Branwell sitting in the carriage alongside her. Already he seemed to have regained some of his confidence and self-control, and as the miles towards York rolled by, she squeezed his hand and smiled. She would have a friend and confidante at Thorp Green at last, and now surely the future was looking brighter.

  Notes

  1. Brontë, Anne, Agnes Grey, p.114

  2. Brontë, Anne, Severed and Gone, written April 1847, manuscript now held in the Brontë Parsonage Museum, Haworth

  3. Brontë, Anne, Agnes Grey, p.113

  4. Brontë, Anne, Agnes Grey, p.114

  5. Barker, Juliet, The Brontës, p.409

  6. The Brontës, Tales of Glass Town, Angria, and Gondal, p.489

  7. The Brontës, Tales of Glass Town, Angria, and Gondal, p.488

  8. On 19 July 1841, Charlotte wrote to Ellen Nussey: ‘I was well aware indeed that Aunt had money – but I always considered that she was the last person who would offer a loan for the purpose in question. A loan however she has offered or intimated that she perhaps will offer in case pupils can be secured … I do not expect that Aunt will risk more than 150£ on such a venture.’ Manuscript now held in the Brontë Parsonage Museum, Haworth

  9. Smith, Margaret (ed.), The Letters of Charlotte Brontë, Volume 1, p.268

  10. Smith, Margaret (ed.), The Letters of Charlotte Brontë, Volume 1, p.269

  11. Green, Dudley, Patrick Brontë Father of Genius, p.150

  12. Barker, Juliet, The Brontës, p.395

  13. Just one example is found in Charlotte’s letter to M. Heger of 8 January 1845: ‘I know that you will lose patience when you read this letter. You will say that I am over-excited – that I have black thoughts etc. So be it Monsieur. I do not seek to justify myself, I submit to all kinds of reproaches – all I know is that I cannot – I will not resign myself to the total loss of my master’s friendship – I would rather undergo the greatest bodily pains than have my heart constantly lacerated by searing regrets.’ This, and the manuscripts of other letters to M. Heger, is now held by the British Library, London.

  14. Barker, Juliet, The Brontës, p.367

  15. Ibid.

  16. Langland, Elizabeth, Anne Brontë: The Other One, p.7

  11

  THE BIRTH OF ACTON BELL

  O God! if this indeed be all

  That life can show to me;

  If on my aching brow may fall,

  No freshening dew from Thee …

  Wandering and toiling without gain,

  The slave of others’ will,

  With constant care, and frequent pain,

  Despised, forgotten still …

  If Life must be so full of care,

  Then call me soon to Thee;

  Or give me strength enough to bear

  My load of misery.

  ‘If This Be All’

  Anne spent the journey to Thorp Green telling Branwell about the house and the family within it. She explained how he might find them aloof, or even condescending, but he must strive to keep his pride in check. She had put her own reputation on the line in securing her brother the position of tutor, and he would do well to remember that. Branwell felt the heat rise within him, how did it come to this, that his little sister was giving him orders, that he had to be beholden to her? Checking this impulse he smiled back at her, she would see how he could behave when he wanted to.

  Branwell made a good first impression at the hall, much to Anne’s relief. He had quelled his normal pride and exuberance when dealing with Mr Robinson, and Mrs Robinson seemed charmed by the diminutive, red-haired man with the Irish accent and a taste for the finer things in life. Things were progressing just as Anne had hoped. In this new environment, and aware for now of the opportunity he had been handed, he had kept the excesses of his Haworth days well under control. There was no drinking to excess, no shouting, no picking of fights. She had put the central tenet of her faith into practise and been rewarded for it. It was possible to reform someone; it was right to forgive people.

  In March 1843 Anne and Branwell were visited at Thorp Green by their father. He had been in York as a witness in a fraud case, involving the will of one of his church trustees, John Beaver, and he took the opportunity to see how his children were progressing. He reported to Emily at home and Charlotte, via letter, that Branwell was already very settled and they both seemed highly valued by the Robinsons.1 He was also impressed with the courtesy that the fine woman Mrs Robinson had shown to him, and to his son.

  Branwell struck up a good bond with his young charge, Edmund Junior, regaling him with his favourite tales of war and adventure. Anne too was making great strides with her pupils. Lydia and Bessie were growing to maturity, and their schooling with Anne was becoming less frequent. Her teaching was now focused primarily on the youngest daughter, Mary, although she would still provide music and art lessons to the older daughters when they requested them. For the next two years the relationship between Anne and Lydia, Bessie and Mary Robinson began to change from purely one of governess and pupil to one of friendship. The girls valued Anne’s common sense and straightforward honesty, and Anne would be pleased to dispense this advice, hoping that by doing so she might counter some of the artifice that they were learning from their mother.

  In June 1843, Anne received a sign of their esteem, and she could have been given nothing better. The girls presented Anne with a young black and white cavalier spaniel, with a swishing tail, bright eyes and long floppy ears. She fell in love with the dog at once and named it Flossy. At last she had s
omething she could hug and love, something she could whisper her secrets to and talk of the dreams she had.

  Flossy would outlive Anne by five years, just as the other Brontë dog of this time, Keeper, the fierce mastiff that only Emily could control, would outlive his mistress. In a poignant letter written a month after Anne’s death, Charlotte told W.S. Williams:

  The ecstasy of these poor animals [Flossy and Keeper] when I came in was something singular … I am certain they thought that, as I was returned, my sisters were not far behind – but here my sisters will come no more. Keeper may visit Emily’s little bed-room, as he still does day by day, and Flossy may look wistfully round for Anne – they will never see them again – nor shall I.2

  The happiness that Anne found in this first half of 1843 was to be short lived, as a problem developed that would test her faith and loyalty to the full, and Branwell was at the heart of it. By the time that she made her annual excursion to Scarborough, this time with her brother for company as well as the Robinson family, her suspicions were already growing. She had noticed the smiles that passed between Branwell and Mrs Robinson, and the fact that he would spend as much time in the company of the lady of the house as in the company of her son.

  In Scarborough her suspicions deepened. Mrs Robinson would look for reasons to be apart from her husband, and at these times Branwell would often be absent too. It is unlikely that Branwell confessed everything to his sister at this time, but all the family commented on how much happier and healthier he seemed upon his return, with Anne, to Haworth for their summer holiday.

  Anne kept a close eye on Branwell over the following months. She noticed the whispers that passed between Branwell and Mrs Robinson, saw their fingers touch as she passed a book to him for her son’s lessons. As time passed it became obvious that the middle-aged woman and the young man she had hired as a tutor were having an affair, right under the nose of her husband.