The author of this piece, Samuel Drew, was one of the early-nineteenth century renaissance-men that Cornwall specialised in. Born in St Austell in 1765, he may well have been known to the Branwell family of Penzance, as he was a Methodist theologian and writer of local renown. To Drew, there was no contradiction between a deeply held belief in God and a belief in Cornish legends such as the piskies. These were tales that Elizabeth Branwell grew up with, and she later related them to the Brontë children as they sat by her voluminous skirt, enraptured by her tales of olden days and the old folks on cold Yorkshire evenings.
If the piskies were disappearing, other signs of folk beliefs were still very much in evidence around Penzance. The stones of Men-an-Tol are just one reminder of an ancient civilisation that once called Cornwall its home. Other stones are scattered profusely in wild, remote places, bearing testament to the activity of druids and followers of a forgotten brand of paganism. Religion of one kind or another has always been of huge significance in Cornwall, and we shall see how in Elizabeth Branwell’s time, the growth of Methodism had a great impact on her life, and later on the lives of her nieces. It is the land of 100 saints, and a brief glimpse at a map of Cornwall reveals how they remember holy men and women that have been long-forgotten elsewhere. After all, who were Saint Ia (commemorated in St Ives), Saint Austol (after whom St Austell is named), Saint Nunne or Saint Just?
Penzance itself, where Elizabeth Branwell was born and grew up, has the meaning of ‘holy headland’, and tradition says that it was named in honour of a church dedicated to St Anthony, built in the first millennium and now long since gone. The meaning of the name Penwith, however, shows another side of the history of this part of Cornwall, for it translates as ‘headland of slaughter’.
Cornwall’s coastline winds along through sheltered coves, large natural ports and rocky outcrops for nearly 300 miles. This has made it a centre of Britain’s fishing industry today, in Elizabeth Branwell’s time, and for thousands of years before that. The long inviting coastline has also made Cornwall a cultural melting pot from the earliest days, and each visiting civilisation soon settled down and added their own stamp to the region.
The earliest inhabitants of Cornwall were Neolithic people who began to settle there around 6,000 years ago. Two thousand years later, we find evidence of a Bronze Age people, with tools and weapons cast in this metal still being uncovered by archaeologists. These people also left behind many of the burial mounds and stone circles scattered about West Penwith, although these monuments were also added to by the next Cornish settlers – the Celts.
Celtic traces can be found in all the extremities of the British Isles; Cornwall, Wales, Ireland and Scotland. The Celts were, however, a nomadic people whose origins lay in Asia. Pottery and other archaeological finds dating from this time, the first millennium BC, show that the Cornish Celts were already trading with Welsh and Irish merchants, and with those who had sailed from France and Spain.
The Celts also brought their ancient pagan religion, at the head of which were the Druids. Knowledge of their religious beliefs and practices were passed on verbally, and so much of their lore is lost, but we know they were nature-loving Pagans who believed in the dual existence of the visual, every-day, world and a hidden world of the spirits. Could it be from Aunt Branwell’s tales of the druids of Cornwall that Emily Brontë began to formulate her own beliefs and ideas? Certainly, Emily did eventually embrace her own form of pagan belief where nature held supremacy over all else, and in her poems, she often talks of a hidden power or spirit that visits her. An example of this can be seen in her visionary poem ‘The Philosopher’:
‘I saw a spirit, standing, man,
Where thou doth stand – an hour ago,
And round his feet three rivers ran,
Of equal depth, and equal flow -
A golden stream – and one like blood;
And one like sapphire seemed to be;
But, where they joined their triple flood,
It tumbled in an inky sea6.’
One possible reason that the Celtic peoples, and Druidism, have left more of a mark on Cornwall than on other parts of England, is that the region was largely untouched by the Roman conquest of Britain. It was, however, known to the Roman writer and historian Diodorus Siculus who wrote:
‘The inhabitants of that part of Britain which is called Belerion [meaning ‘Shining Land’, the area we now know as West Penwith] are very fond of strangers, and from their intercourse with foreign merchants are civilised in their manner of life.’7
During Elizabeth’s childhood in Penzance, she would have seen constant reminders of ancient times and ancient beliefs, whether walking the lanes where pixies were said to reside, or walking past standing stones, menhirs and dolmens left by the druids and the Bronze Age people that came before them.
Elizabeth was a very devout woman, however, and so she would have found more edification from another site that greeted her eyes every day. Visible from the home she grew up in on Market Street, it is a breath-taking building centred upon an island; the monastery of St Michael’s Mount.
St Michael’s Mount dominates the bay around Penzance, and although perched upon a tidal island usually cut off by the sea, at low tides it can be walked to from the nearest village of Marazion, five miles to the east of Penzance. Home to a monastery since the eighth century, it is a supremely beautiful building with a fascinating history. Almost since its creation it was a destination for pilgrims from across Europe, but in 1275, the original church was destroyed by an earthquake. An even more lavish priory was built on the same site, but its natural defences meant that it often served a military, as well as religious, purpose.
Throughout the centuries whenever conflicts occurred, St Michael’s Mount seemed to find itself involved. During the Wars of the Roses it was kept under siege for half a year by Edward IV, and it was also besieged during the English Civil War a century-and-a-half later. In 1497, it was held by Perkin Warbeck, who claimed he was the rightful king of England, and many Cornish people then joined him on his ill-fated march to London.
By Elizabeth Branwell’s time the island also had a thriving community living at the foot of the old monastery, and in the early decades of the nineteenth century it had three schools, an equal number of public houses and its own Methodist chapel. Elizabeth must surely have visited St Michael’s Mount on many occasions, and would have talked of it to the Brontë children, wistfully describing not only its history, full of battles and adventures, but also its stunning appearance at sunset when it looks almost like marble, surrounded by a fiery glow. It was these tales, at least in part, that led to the Brontës’ youthful love of islands, and it is St Michael’s Mount, forever imprinted on the memory of the Yorkshire-exiled Elizabeth, that is recreated as the magical palace in her niece Charlotte’s youthful work Tales Of The Islanders, quoted at the head of this chapter.
If the community at St Michael’s Mount was flourishing by the late eighteenth century this was even more true of the town which had come to dominate West Penwith as both a trade and cultural centre; Penzance. Life in Penzance now offered new opportunities to its population, away from the harsh realities of earlier centuries. This was especially true for its leading families, and among these families were counted two that are central to the Brontë story; the Carnes and the Branwells.
Chapter 2
A Man of Enterprising Spirit
‘This friend was a merchant, a man of enterprising spirit and undoubted talent, who was somewhat straitened in his mercantile pursuits for want of capital; but generously proposed to give my father a fair share of his profits, if he would only entrust him with what he could spare; and he thought he might safely promise that whatever sum the latter chose to put into his hands, it should bring him in cent per cent. The small patrimony was speedily sold, and the whole of its price was deposited in the hands of the friendly merchant; who as promptly proceeded to ship his cargo, and prepare for his voyage.’
Anne Brontë, Agnes Grey
We have seen how the Roman writer Diodorus Sicilus observed how welcoming and cosmopolitan the area around Penzance was, thanks to its trade links and its position within the natural port of Mount’s Bay, yet as the centuries progressed it became isolated from much of the rest of Britain and this gave it a distinct character that survives until this day – after all Cornwall is almost an island, with the River Tamar at its eastern edge failing by just four miles to run from the south to north coast thereby cutting off the county completely from the rest of England.
One thing that unites Cornish people of today to their forebears is a pride in the region from which they come. They know, for example, that King Arthur hailed from Cornwall and that Camelot was named thanks to its location near the River Camel, whatever people in other areas that claim to be Arthur’s homeland may say! This legacy is marked today by the haunting statue named Gallos near Tintagel Castle. Gallos means ‘power’ in the Cornish language, and the eight-foot bronze statue is said to represent Merlin holding a sword, although many believe it to be King Arthur himself looking out to sea from the land he once ruled.
Whether King Arthur was real or fictitious we may never know, but Tintagel Castle is just one of many ancient fortifications scattered across Cornwall, timeless reminders of the county’s fractious past and fiercely independent nature. We shall see later how one such castle, particularly well known to Elizabeth Branwell, plays a central part in the Brontë story, although most people are completely unaware of it.
Arthurian stories were often told in Elizabeth’s childhood, along with Cornwall’s other great legend – that of Tristan, the nephew of King Mark of Cornwall who, thanks to a magic potion, falls in love with the King’s intended bride Iseult with tragic results. There can be little doubt that the Brontë children would have loved these tales and that they would have heard them from their Aunt Elizabeth. After all, we hear first-hand from Ellen Nussey, the great friend of Charlotte Brontë who was a frequent visitor to Haworth Parsonage, that Elizabeth liked nothing better than talking about the county she came from:
‘She talked a great deal of her younger days; the gaieties of her dear native town Penzance, in Cornwall, the soft, warm climate, etc1.’
Arthur and Tristan have become legendary names across the globe, but of course Guinevere and Iseult have just as big a part to play in their story, and Cornwall as a whole is a county where women played a more prominent role than in many parts of the country. One example from Penzance’s history is Alice de Lisle. She was the sister of Lord Henry Tyes, who was the feudal Lord of the Manor of Alverton, encompassing Penzance and the surrounding areas. In 1322, he, like many from Cornwall, took part in a revolt against the unpopular Edward II, but he was captured and executed, along with Alice de Lisle’s husband2. Lord Tyes’ lands were forfeit to the King, but Alice lobbied to have them returned. In 1332 they were given back to her, in effect making Alice Lord of the Manor. Under her leadership Penzance became a leading market town in the area and its influence grew.
Many women of Penzance from less aristocratic stock also, by necessity, took control of their families and property, as their husbands were frequently away at sea, fishing. Fishing remains a major industry in the town, but it held far more importance in previous centuries. Many of those who were not involved in fishing, or in the trade of goods associated with it, found work in the navy and its importance as a strategic naval port led to an incident in 1595 that has been largely forgotten in the annals of British history, even though it was the last invasion on British soil until German troops landed in the Channel Islands during the Second World War. We all know, of course, that the Spanish Armada of 1588, sent with the aim of removing Elizabeth from the throne and restoring England to Catholicism, was foiled by a mixture of bad weather and bad judgement. What is less well-known is that a Spanish army of around 600 troops actually did land in Penzance seven years later, and held the town for two days3.
Elizabeth Branwell shared an independent spirit and belief in hard work with the wives of Penzance’s farmers and fishermen. These, along with piety, were qualities that she prized above all others, and it is thanks to her teachings and example that Charlotte, Emily and Anne succeeded in becoming great writers, against all odds.
The Penzance that Elizabeth and her siblings grew up in was very different to the one that had witnessed the Spanish invasion two centuries earlier. Although they only held the town for two days, the Spanish troops sacked many of its buildings, and this fate was repeated decades later during the English Civil War. The people of Penzance, and indeed of Cornwall as a whole, were predominantly on the king’s side, and paid a heavy price for it when the Parliamentarian army under Sir Thomas Fairfax arrived. In May 1648, an event known as the Plunder of Penzance occurred, during which seventy of Penzance’s royalists were slaughtered. Nevertheless, the town rose up again in a rebellion called the Gear Rout, eventually put down savagely by the Roundhead leader, Sir Hardress Waller4.
These dreadful events, exacerbated by the plague that visited the town in 1578, destroyed much of the town’s Tudor, and earlier, buildings and significantly reduced the population, but they also increased the fiercely proud and independent nature of its townfolk. The Gear Rout, which at the time seemed so disastrous, actually turned into a propitious event. King Charles II, acceding to the throne after the Restoration of the monarchy in 1660, was aware of how loyally the townsfolk of Penzance had acted in support of his father, and this was behind his decision in 1663 to confer upon Penzance the rank of a coinage town5.
As a coinage town, Penzance weighed and then collected the taxes due on tin and copper produced in the area. This gave Penzance great prestige, and also increased its wealth. This auspicious combination helped Penzance to grow in size, allowing it to rebuild itself in a grand style from the ruins left behind by the armies of Spain and Sir Thomas Fairfax.
Tin mining was, alongside fishing, the staple industry of Penzance and many of the town’s workers fulfilled both roles. Evidence of tin mining in West Penwith goes back more than 4,000 years, and the area had riches buried beneath the soil that were unparalleled in the rest of Britain. It was this that struck the Robinson Crusoe author Daniel Defoe as he reached the westernmost point on his journey across Britain:
‘Penzance … is the farthest Town, of any note, West, being 254 miles from London, and within about Ten Miles of the Promontory called the Land’s-End; so that this Promontory is from London 264 miles, or thereabouts. This is a Market-town of good Business, well-built and populous, has a good Trade, and a great many Ships belonging to it, notwithstanding it is so remote. Here are also a great many Families of Gentlemen, tho in this utmost Angle of the Nation: and, which is yet more strange, the Veins of Lead, Tin, and Copper Ore, are said to be seen, even to the utmost Extent of Land at Low-water Mark, and in the very Sea. So rich, so valuable a Treasure is contained in these Parts of Great Britain6.’
Defoe was witnessing the start of a boom period for Penzance, and as the eighteenth century progressed, its mineral deposits were in ever-increasing demand thanks to the Industrial Revolution and its voracious appetite for metals of all kinds. These were halcyon decades for the area’s ship industry and for its sailors as well, as the century saw conflict between Britain and France in the Seven Years War between 1756 and 1763.
The population of Penzance was growing, and workers were coming from Ireland and Wales to work its mines. By 1770, the population stood at around 3,000, with many more in the surrounding villages. This led to a growth in the town’s market, and an increase in the number of stores serving the population, from grocers to inn-keepers. Some of the most successful merchants, the families of gentlemen referred to by Defoe, had interests in all of these ventures and more, and they increased in wealth and property year by year. One such upwardly mobile unit was the Bramwell family, later to become known as the Branwells. It is widely known that the Brontë name was changed from its original form of Brun
ty, or even Prunty, by Patrick, possibly to downplay his Irish origins when he arrived at Cambridge University from County Down in 1802. It is less well known that a similar transition happened on the maternal side of the Brontë sisters’ family. The spelling of surnames could be fluid in the seventeenth century, when we find records of the Bramble family in Penzance, by the eighteenth century we see them as the Bramwells, and only from Elizabeth’s generation onwards does the name settle upon the less bucolic-sounding Branwell.
In 1742, eighteen years after Defoe had travelled through the town, one of its increasingly successful gentlemen, Richard Bramwell, married a woman from another of Penzance’s notable families, Margaret John, whose father was the blacksmith, Thomas John. The wedding took place at St Maddern’s church in Madron to the north of Penzance, then the official parish church for the area, and they were both 30 years old. This was unusually old for such a match to be made, so it may be that the marriage was one of convenience between representatives of two families of importance. As we shall see, however, they were certainly not only the only members of the extended Branwell family who would marry later in life.
Richard and Margaret had eight children, four sons and four daughters, although two sons named Martin both died in infancy.7 It was common practice for children to take the name of a deceased brother or sister, and a generation later this was also the reason for Elizabeth Branwell’s given name. The surviving sons, Richard and his younger brother Thomas, grew to adulthood and had families of their own, creating a large group of cousins who were among the leaders of Penzance society at the turn of the nineteenth century and beyond. The four sisters were named Margaret, Elizabeth, Jane and Alice. The third daughter Jane is of especial interest to us as she became the favourite aunt of Elizabeth Branwell, and also played a vital role in the Brontë story.
Aunt Branwell and the Brontë Legacy Page 2