Aunt Branwell and the Brontë Legacy

by Aunt Branwell

  ‘Also… my messuage and Dwelling House in Chapel Street in Penzance aforesaid late in the occupation of my sister in law Anne Branwell and now of her daughters12.’

  Richard’s will alludes to a sad event that had happened two years earlier, for Anne had died on 19 December 1809, little more than a year-and-a-half after the death of her husband and just months after the return of her daughter Jane from Baltimore.

  The house on Chapel Street that had once been home to a growing family was now occupied by Maria and Charlotte, and at the head of the household their elder sister Elizabeth, all of whom were living off of their annuity in lieu of any employment. It was obvious that things had to change, but the catalysts for this inevitability were two further deaths in the family in 1811 and 1812.

  The first of these events was especially tragic, as the Branwells were visited by an event known to so many families of Penzance; a death at sea. Thomas, the third son of Richard and his wife Honour (although Richard also had an illegitimate son from an earlier relationship with a woman named Catherine Veale13), had become the pride and joy of the extended Branwell family after entering upon a successful career in the Royal Navy. By 1811, the 33-year-old had risen to the rank of First Lieutenant, but on Christmas Eve of that year he died in the cold winter waters off the Danish coast as his ship HMS St George sank in a gale at Nazen near Ringkøbing. Seven-hundred-and-thirty-one of the 738-man crew perished, and the bodies that were carried ashore were buried underneath the sand dunes of Thorsminde, now called ‘Dead Men’s Dunes’. Over 500 souls were lost on board the HMS Defence that also sank in the same storm. Lieutenant Branwell was remembered in the Navy Chronicle of 1812, although his name was recorded incorrectly:

  ‘The St George, Defence, and Cressey, kept the North Sea five days, in a dreadful gale from the W.N.W. west and south; but, at length, had to combat with a terrible tempest from the N.W. until they were lost. The following is a list of the principal officers who were on board the St George and Defence when those vessels were wrecked – In the St George Admiral Reynolds, Captain Guion, Lieutenants Napier, Place, Thompson, Brannel, Dance, Tristram, Riches, and Rogers14.’

  This was a terrible blow to his father Richard, and may have hastened the illness that claimed his life three months later in March 1812. It could also, of course, have been a crushing moment for Elizabeth if it was indeed Thomas who had gifted her the monogrammed dressing box she treasured. If this was the death of a true love, it could help to explain why a woman who would seemingly have been a highly eligible choice of wife for many in Penzance instead remained single for the rest of her days.

  The death of their uncle was a momentous occasion in the lives of the three sisters at Chapel Street for it once again threw their future, or at least the future possession of the building they called home, into doubt. This question hung heavily in the air throughout quiet times in the house, until one evening in the spring of 1812, Maria told Elizabeth and Charlotte that she had made a decision; she was going to make her own way in the world, and was about to leave Penzance far behind.

  It seems probable that all three sisters had thought of entering upon a career as a teacher or governess, but it was Maria, then approaching her twenty-ninth birthday, who put her plan into action. She knew that her Uncle John and Aunt Jane Fennell had just left Shropshire and journeyed northward again to Yorkshire, where they had opened the Wesleyan Woodhouse Grove School at Rawdon, between Leeds and Bradford. After writing to her uncle and aunt, Maria, who had a reputation for being bright and industrious, was offered a post at the school; it was an offer that was quickly accepted.

  Maria’s news brought Elizabeth conflicting emotions. She saw the sense in her sister’s move, and it was one that she herself was thinking of taking – after all, now their uncle was dead, their tenancy of the Chapel Street house was no longer assured. Parting from a sister she had been so close to, however, brought further grief on top of the succession of family bereavements she had suffered in the preceding years. Above all, why did Maria have to travel so far? It was a distance of more than 400 miles, and took around ten days to cover if taken in a carriage. The alternative method of travel, sailing around Wales to Liverpool and then taking a coach to Rawdon, was almost as arduous. Elizabeth could hardly imagine such a long journey, and even less could she imagine that it was a journey she herself would later make on three occasions.

  There was, however, the reassurance of Maria’s impending reunion with the aunt they all knew and loved, and their brother Benjamin also spoke up in defence of Maria’s plan, as he had already made journeys of similar lengths. Benjamin was not only a successful businessman, he was also a very devout Methodist and a keen theologian who had travelled to Yorkshire in the course of his studies. In the nineteenth century, the Bronte scholar, William Scruton, even suggested that Benjamin may have met Patrick Brontë in Yorkshire prior to 1812, and that he may have had his sister Maria with him at that time15. Given the time and money involved in such a journey, however, this seems an unlikely supposition.

  What we know for sure is that Maria arrived at Woodhouse Grove School in the early summer of 1812. She was given an administrative role by her Uncle and Aunt Fennell, a role that was also being filled by their daughter Jane. It seems likely that Maria may have expected to step into a teaching role at a later date as the number of pupils increased. Maria found herself 400 miles from the family she had been inseparable from all her life, but this brought a new-found freedom. It was a time of great personal growth for her; previously she had been studious and reserved, but now she could experience aspects of life that had previously escaped her: such as love.

  When John Fennell arrived in the West Riding of Yorkshire, he found to his pleasure that in the vicinity were two priests with whom he had become friends in Shropshire; the Welshman William Morgan and the Irishman Patrick Brontë, who had both made the same journey to Yorkshire, an area whose rapidly expanding population were being evangelised by the Wesleyan movement. Knowing their talents and their good nature, Fennell also engaged their services for his school.

  Patrick was taken on as an examiner in the classics, a position he was eminently suited for as he was well versed in Greek and Latin from his time as a student at Cambridge University. He soon found his attention drifting away from Virgil and Horace, however, and onto Fennell’s niece Maria.

  On the face of it, it seems that Patrick and Maria had little in common. She was then in her late-twenties while he was in his mid-thirties, and she was from a relatively wealthy background whereas Patrick was from very humble origins in Drumballyroney, County Down. Indeed, only his intellectual ability, evident from an early age, saved him from the life of a poor farmer, as the local landowner, Reverend Thomas Tighe, subsidised Patrick’s entry into Cambridge and then into the Church of England16. Patrick had become an eccentric, sometimes irascible, and yet pious and kindly man, and Maria recognised in him a kindred spirit: here they were, a man and a woman perhaps past the prime of their lives and many hundreds of miles from the lands they had called home. His poor background mattered not to Maria, in fact it may have been to his advantage as she had earlier written a pamphlet entitled, The Advantages of Poverty in Religious Concerns17.

  A mutual affection quickly changed into true love, and we have seven letters from Maria during this courtship that bear testimony to the strength of their feelings. Patrick is no longer Reverend Brontë, he is Maria’s ‘Saucy Pat’, and on another occasion, she teases him mercilessly by stating that her aunt and uncle thought he was ‘mazed’ and that even she worried that his lovestruck behaviour had ‘the mark of insanity’. In a letter of 23 September 1812, we see a very tender side of their relationship, as Maria writes:

  ‘Your joys and sorrows must be mine. Thus shall the one be increased, and the other diminished… and may we feel every trial and distress, for such must be our lot at times, bind us nearer to God and to each other! … Oh, what sacred pleasure there is in the idea of spending an eternity tog
ether in perfect and uninterrupted bliss!18’

  By this time Maria Branwell and Patrick Brontë had known each other for less than three months, but they had already realised that they wanted to marry, and by the end of the year their wish was fulfilled. Eros shot two arrows in the corridors of Woodhouse Grove School that summer, for the Reverend William Morgan had fallen in love with Jane, Maria’s cousin. The date of 29 December 1812, was set for their double wedding at St Oswald’s church in Guiseley, and the doubly happy event was reported in the Gentleman’s Magazine at the beginning of 1813:

  ‘Lately at Guiseley, near Bradford, by the Rev. William Morgan, minister of Bierley, Rev. P. Brontë, B.A., minister of Hartshead-cum-Clifton, to Maria, third daughter of the late T. Branwell, Esq., of Penzance. At the same time, by the Rev. P. Brontë, Rev. W. Morgan, to the only daughter of Mr. John Fennell, Headmaster of the Wesleyan Academy near Bradford19.’

  The story of the double wedding is well known, but in fact it was a triple wedding within the Branwell family, thanks to a further wedding at exactly the same time being held more than four miles away, and one of the orchestrators of this rare and precious event was Elizabeth Branwell.

  Maria Branwell was an avid and excellent letter writer, as we see from her missives to Pat, so it is without doubt that she wrote to Elizabeth in Penzance to tell her of her new found love. Elizabeth was delighted by this surprising turn of events, but she had a similar story developing within her own home. By mid-1812, only Elizabeth and her 22-year-old sister, Charlotte, were living in Chapel Street, although they had their brother Benjamin and sister Jane nearby. Elizabeth witnessed a growing love between Charlotte and their cousin Joseph Branwell, another son of Richard, and it was clear that their intentions too were to marry. A series of letters then passed between Elizabeth and Charlotte in Penzance, and their sister Maria and cousin Jane in Rawdon, resulting in the simultaneous triple weddings. This was carefully planned, as revealed many years later in a letter to a newspaper from another Charlotte Branwell, the daughter of Charlotte and Joseph and Elizabeth’s niece:

  ‘It was arranged that the two marriages [Patrick and Maria and William and Jane] should be solemnised on the same day as that of Miss Charlotte Branwell’s mother, fixed for 29th December in far off Penzance. And so, whilst the youngest sister of Mrs. Brontë was being married to her cousin, the late Mr Joseph Branwell, the double marriage, as already noted was taking place in Yorkshire. Miss Charlotte Branwell also adds that at Guiseley not only did the Rev. Mr Brontë and the Rev. Mr Morgan perform the marriage ceremony for one another, but the brides acted as bridesmaids for each other. Mr Fennell, who was a clergyman of the Church of England, would have united the young people, but he had to give both brides away. Miss Branwell notes these facts to prove that the arrangement for the three marriages on the same day was no caprice or eccentricity on the part of Mr Brontë, but was made entirely by the brides. She has many a time heard her mother speak of the circumstances. “It is but seldom,” continues Miss Branwell, “that two sisters and four cousins are united in holy matrimony on the same day20.”’

  Elizabeth acted as bridesmaid for Charlotte, and once again signed her name as a witness at St Maddern’s church. It was a joyous day, but now, aged 36, only she remained unmarried of the Branwell siblings, and her future was more uncertain than ever.

  Chapter 7

  Weary Wandering

  ‘Thou art gone but I am here,

  Left behind and mourning on,

  Doomed in Dreams to deem thee near,

  But to awake and find thee gone!

  Ever parted! Broken hearted!

  Weary wandering all alone!’

  Branwell Brontë, Song

  The dawn of 1813 saw Maria Brontë and Charlotte Branwell, who had kept hold of her maiden name by dint of marrying a cousin, begin new lives with their husbands, and it also brought a change of location for their sister, Elizabeth. Charlotte, of course, took up residence with her husband Joseph, but it was impractical for Elizabeth to continue living at 25, Chapel Street on her own, and the death of Joseph’s father, Richard, who had allowed them to continue living in the home his brother Thomas had bequeathed him, left her with no choice but to move out herself.

  Her thoughts may have turned to seeking a position as a governess or teacher, following in her younger sister Maria’s footsteps, but if she did attempt to secure such a job she must have been unsuccessful. It seems most likely that Elizabeth moved in to the house that Charlotte and Joseph now occupied1, presumably the property in the neighbouring village of Gulval where Joseph lived prior to his wedding2, although it is also possible that she also spent some time with her sister Jane and niece Eliza in Morab Place. The presence of Elizabeth would have been beneficial to Charlotte and Joseph as they looked to start a family. Charlotte could attest to her sister’s common sense and practicality; after all, at fourteen years her senior, Elizabeth had been almost a mother figure to her, and as Joseph was holding down a job, a maiden aunt would be able to help with the upbringing of their future children.

  It is less likely that Elizabeth would have moved in to the home of her brother Benjamin and his wife Mary, for by this time they already had three children with the likelihood of more to come. Benjamin felt his house was already crowded at this time, for he later bought the house at 25, Chapel Street that had once belonged to his father and removed there with his wife and daughters2.

  Benjamin had not only his father’s business acumen but also his sense of philanthropy, and he reopened the penny school at the rear of the house. The school was later taken over by his daughters Mary, Emma and Amelia Josepha, but his third daughter Lydia, born in 1811, was too shy to undertake work of any kind and although she lived into her sixties she ‘remained unmarried and was entirely reclusive3.’

  Lydia Branwell was evidently of a similar character to her cousin Emily Brontë. We shall read later how Charlotte and Anne had hoped that Emily would join them as a teacher at their own school, but they eventually had to concede defeat, as revealed in a letter from Charlotte to her former tutor, and object of affection, Constantin Heger:

  ‘Emily does not like teaching much, but she would always do the housekeeping and, although she is a little reclusive, she has too good a heart not to do everything for the wellbeing of the children4.’

  Lodging with her sister and new husband, Elizabeth would have found the young couple frequently turning to her for advice and practical assistance, for Joseph, like Charlotte, was thirteen years younger than her. He was Richard Branwell’s youngest child, and after completing his education, he decided to put his learning to good use and become a teacher at a school in Queen’s Street, Penzance. By the time of his marriage at the end of 1812, however, he had become disillusioned with this choice of career and instead entered a profession more suited to the son of a Branwell by taking a position at Bolitho’s Bank, founded in Penzance in 1806 by William Bolitho and Thomas Bolitho the younger. Joseph wasted little time in persuading members of his family to transfer their allegiance and funds to this bank, for the sums awarded by Elizabeth Branwell in her will were still held at Bolitho’s.

  A full-length silhouette of Joseph shows a slim man of good stature, with a pronounced Roman nose rather reminiscent of that of his nephew Branwell Brontë. He is wearing a frock coat and, most noticeably, is carrying a thin walking cane that seems more fashionable than practical. We are left in little doubt that here is a successful gentleman, and a man to be reckoned with.

  Joseph was also a family man, for almost a year to the day after they were married the first of his ten children with Charlotte was born. Elizabeth was delighted to see her youngest sister blessed with a healthy son, named Joseph after his father, but her mind also turned to the sister who, although hundreds of miles away, was always in her thoughts – would she too have children, and if so would Elizabeth ever see them?

  Further happy news arrived in Cornwall via a letter from Yorkshire. Carefully opening the envelope, E
lizabeth had a premonition of what it would contain; her sister Maria was delighted to announce that she was now expecting a child with her husband Patrick. This was an anxious moment for the married couple at a time when it was far from certain that a pregnancy would lead to a healthy birth. It was an anxiety shared by Elizabeth too who, unable to be with her sister at this juncture as she would have wished, instead had to wait weeks between letters for the latest update. The letter that arrived in the late spring of 1814 was opened by slightly shaking hands, and Elizabeth’s heart raced as she scanned quickly through her sister’s handwriting to find the news she was looking for; it was good news, for on 23 April 1814, she had given birth to a daughter who would share her name, Maria Brontë.

  Maria and Patrick were enjoying a perfect start to their married life. They were living in rented accommodation in a cottage at Lousy Thorn Farm in the village of Hartshead-cum-Clifton on the edge of Mirfield, a centre of the heavy woollen district that lay between Huddersfield and Leeds. Patrick was priest at the village’s St Peter’s church, and he was widely respected by his parishioners.

  Having married rapidly after a brief courtship, Maria was continually learning about her husband, but she found that what she learned was to his credit. His piety was clear for all to see, and yet he also had an artistic and poetic side. In the year following their marriage he published his second collection of poetry entitled The Rural Minstrel. Within the collection is a long poem entitled ‘Kirkstall Abbey’; it is a tender tribute not only to the magnificent ruined abbey near Leeds but also by implication to his new wife Maria, for it was at Kirkstall Abbey that he had proposed to her in 18125.

  The life Maria was now settling into was very different to the one she had known in Penzance. There were no dinner parties, no social dances, not even any traditional festivities to brighten a summer evening as she had become used to in Cornwall. The parishioners were hard working and honest folk, but there was also a real sense of danger and unrest in the air. The area around Hartshead was at the centre of the new wool processing industry, and as she looked down from her home high up in the hills she could see a number of factories belching black smoke along the valley bottom. This was the height of the industrial revolution, and traditional jobs were now being performed by machines, so that many found themselves out of work and with no means of supporting themselves or their families. Poverty, starvation and death could come at any time, and many men from the area took the law into their own hands by becoming Luddites.