This is not at all what Ellen expected from a lady of her age and status, but Elizabeth is clearly laughing at her own mischief, mischief that she had also enjoyed playing on her siblings during her days as a belle in Penzance. This wicked, yet well-meaning, sense of humour was shared by her niece Emily, as Ellen Nussey again recalled:
‘A spell of mischief also lurked in her [Emily Brontë] on occasions. When out on the moors she enjoyed leading Charlotte where she would not dare to go of her own free will. C. had a mortal dread of unknown animals and it was Emily’s pleasure to lead her into close vicinity and then to tell her of what she had done, laughing at her horror with great amusement8.’
We now get a picture of parsonage life opposed to the cliched image of a moorside prison, and a heart-warming one it is too, as we see Emily and her aunt Elizabeth laughing conspiratorially in a corner at some little joke they’ve played.
Ellen Nussey, who has become a primary source of our Brontë knowledge thanks to the huge collection of Charlotte’s letters which she kept, was a frequent visitor to the parsonage, and she was warmly welcomed into it by Elizabeth. She could see that her niece’s friend was a kind and genuine woman, one who placed loyalty and honesty above all else. These were characteristics also highly prized by Elizabeth, and her admiration for Ellen was demonstrated by a gift she gave to her, and which Ellen treasured. In 1937, C. Mabel Edgerley was herself presented with a gift from a woman who had bought it in a sale many years earlier. It was a parcel wrapped in tissue paper, upon which Ellen Nussey had written ‘Mittens knitted by Miss Branwell, C.B.’s aunt9’. Inside the parcel was a pair of beautifully crafted white cotton mittens which must have proved highly useful during winter walks across Haworth’s moors.
If Gaskell misrepresented Elizabeth Branwell’s character and the impact she had on the Brontë children, she did at least recognise the love that existed between Elizabeth and Branwell. Patrick Branwell Brontë was a troubled individual, especially in later life, and yet whilst others judged him then and now, he was always welcomed by Elizabeth. It is a relationship that once again belies depictions of Elizabeth as cold, strict or dour, and Branwell himself acknowledged the value of her love and support, writing that she ‘has for twenty years been as my mother10.’
From the moment Elizabeth arrived at the parsonage in that sad summer of 1821, she felt drawn to the little red-haired boy, then aged four. He was the only boy in a family of six, just as her brother Benjamin had been the only boy among seven children who survived infancy in the Branwell family. He was a vivacious child, in contrast to his reserved sisters, and Elizabeth saw in him a shadow of the brother she had lost three years before moving to Haworth. Benjamin Branwell had achieved a lot in his forty-three years, from growing a business to starting a family and becoming mayor of his town, so given the right support and encouragement, why shouldn’t Branwell Brontë also go on to be a great success in life?
Branwell was largely taught by his father, leaving Elizabeth to concentrate her efforts on her teaching of her nieces, but she liked him to show her his scholarly progress, encouraging his early efforts in poetry, art and music. He was a boy, and later a man, who loved to be praised, and the abundance with which it flowed from his aunt helped to secure her place in his affections.
As always taking a pragmatic view of life, Elizabeth realised the strong possibility that at least some of her nieces would have to rely on the munificence of their brother at some point. Patrick Brontë, in contrast to her own father, would be unable to leave his daughters a meaningful annuity in his will, and in such an unhealthy environment as Haworth there was no telling when he may be snatched away. Alternatively, there was the possibility that Patrick’s eyesight or health could fail, leaving him unable to continue his work. By then, Elizabeth reasoned, some of her nieces may have found a husband who could support them, or have found jobs as governesses, although these rarely paid well. If neither of these scenarios had come to pass, it would be up to Branwell to support his sisters. This is why Branwell had to be supported and encouraged at all costs, and his aunt provided props of both the emotional and financial kind.
Elizabeth had good reason to be optimistic about her nephew’s future. He had talent and self-confidence, always a winning combination, and he also had a kind heart, drawing pictures for his youngest sister Anne and joining in the games and plays that his siblings loved. Even now, however, there were ominous signs of things to come, and when a dark mood descended Branwell could display a devilish side just as easily as an angelic one.
The first evidence we have of this aspect of Branwell’s nature came when Patrick famously lined his children up behind a mask and asked them each a question, figuring that the anonymity provided by the mask would allow them to answer his questions free of their usual reserve. His question to Emily, and her response, is telling:
‘I asked the next (Emily, afterwards Ellis Bell) what I had best do with her brother Branwell, who was sometimes a naughty boy; she answered, “Reason with him, and when he won’t listen to reason, whip him11.”’
Branwell revelled in the role of maverick outsider throughout his life, and we catch another glimpse of this when he and his sisters chose names for their own personal toy soldiers. Charlotte instantly named hers after her hero the Duke of Wellington, whereupon Branwell decided that his would be Napoleon Bonaparte. Even at this stage of his life – he was then aged eight – he delighted in being the anti-hero rather than the hero. We should also remember, however, that the twelve soldiers had been bought for Branwell, yet he willingly shared them with his sisters; this one early moment encapsulated the duality of his nature.
Clearly Branwell was a child who needed both discipline and understanding in his life, and these were provided by his aunt, creating a close bond between them that was noticed by everyone who saw them together, from Ellen Nussey to Mary Taylor.
Elizabeth was delighted to hear, from her brother-in-law, that Branwell was showing great promise in his lessons, but she was just as happy to indulge his creative side, especially his love of music. He first became proficient on the flute, and then progressed to lessons on the church organ under the tutelage of Mr Sunderland, an organist from Keighley. His promise in this field led to the purchase of an upright cabinet piano originally sold by John Green of Soho Square12, and it took pride of place in the parsonage at the close of 1833. The purchase of this item would have been beyond the means of Patrick alone, so there can be little doubt that Elizabeth helped to pay for it. It was a purchase that appealed to her for three reasons: firstly it would allow Branwell to hone his keyboard skills so that he could play the organ at church (which he did until he stopped attending services altogether); secondly, it would allow the girls to learn music as well, which could boost their chances of getting a governess’s position (Emily became a particularly accomplished pianist); finally, it would allow Elizabeth to hear music being played in the parsonage.
Music and dancing were one of the ‘gaities’ that Elizabeth remembered so fondly from Penzance, but although the culture, climate and accents of Haworth were alien to her, she was delighted to find that she could still experience live music, even if the setting wasn’t always as refined as at the Penzance Assembly Rooms.
Haworth had a thriving music scene, with occasional concerts held at St Michael and All Angels’ church and regular performances held at the neighbouring Black Bull Inn, including the annual November the Fifth extravaganza staged by the Haworth Philharmonic Society. These events were attended by all of the parsonage household, but as Patrick was a man of strict habits he always left just before nine in the evening, leaving Elizabeth to chaperone his children and bring them home at the close of the concert.
The concerts were joyous events for all concerned, and we have a contemporary description of one given in the local newspaper:
‘The Philharmonic Society in this place, held a concert in the Large Room of the Black Bull Inn, on Tuesday evening, April 1st. The songs, catches, a
nd glees were well selected. Miss Parker sung with much sweetness, and was highly applauded. Mr. Parker was in fine voice, and sang with his usual effect. Mr. Clark sung several comic songs with much taste, and was often encored, particularly in the song of “Miss Levi,” which kept the audience in continual laughter. The concert was very numerously and respectably attended, and the company went away highly gratified13.’
It was nights such as these, in the company of their loving aunt, that created the happy memories the Brontës clung to in darker times, particularly in the case of Branwell. By the time of the concert described above, Branwell was 16 years old, but he had already become familiar with another of the delights offered by the Black Bull Inn – whisky. It was not unusual at this time for a young man to drink, indeed as we see from Anne Brontë’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall it was considered an essential quality for a gentleman, and yet Elizabeth, who observed all her sister’s children carefully, was worried at the early signs of an over-enthusiasm for the bottle.
Haworth was a dangerous place for a man such as Branwell with an addictive personality, for there were not only three public houses in the vicinity of the parsonage (he would become very familiar with the Black Bull, the White Lion and the King’s Arms), there were also houses in the densely packed area known as ‘the pick’, a shortening of its official name of Piccadilly, that sold home-made spirits and ales. Also known as ‘Brandy Row’ because it housed a number of brandy and wine merchants14, it was accessed via the Gauger’s Croft archway across from St Michael and All Angels’ church. As the years progressed, Branwell replaced attendance at one with frequent visits to the other.
Under these circumstances, Elizabeth conjectured that a change of scenery might do her nephew a power of good, and the opportunity came when he suggested applying to become a student at the Royal Academy of Arts in London. He had been showing great promise as an artist and it was an activity he truly enjoyed, so with the encouragement of his aunt and father he wrote a letter of introduction to the Royal Academy in the summer of 183515. What happened next is far from clear; a witness named Woolven stated that he had seen Branwell later that year in a Holborn tavern16, but some commentators have opined that Branwell never made the journey at all. What we can say for certain is that Branwell never entered the Academy, and at the close of 1835 he was in Haworth.
Elizabeth had been prepared to subsidise his journey to London, and she also helped to pay for his art lessons with the local artist, teacher and Royal Academy graduate William Robinson17. Encouraged by Robinson, Branwell moved to Bradford in May 1838 to start a new career as a portrait painter. It was hardly what Elizabeth had envisaged for her nephew, but, as always, she gave him encouragement and financial backing. Branwell soon discovered that portrait painting at this time was a highly competitive industry, too competitive for a novice like him, one whose art was largely formulaic rather than inspired. Much of his time in the city was spent drinking in haunts such as the Victoria Hotel, and by the time he left his lodgings with Mr and Mrs Kirby in October 1839, he had to pay his debts to them with paintings in lieu of money.
It was another blow on top of his failure to attend the Royal Academy, and now that he was back in Haworth, Elizabeth could see that he was drinking more heavily and regularly. She could not know that his erratic behaviour was also thanks to his new-found love of opium. As she lay in bed at night one recurring thought haunted her; was the nephew she had such high hopes for not at all like her brother Benjamin, but instead like her scandalous brother-in-law John Kingston?
Elizabeth’s fears were allayed somewhat when in August 1840 Branwell secured a job as an Assistant Clerk at Sowerby Bridge railway station. Here was a job that brought real prospects, as the fledgling railways were undergoing great expansion at this time. Elizabeth’s optimism seemed well founded when her nephew was promoted to the position of chief clerk at Luddendenfoot station four miles west of Halifax just half a year later. It was a time when things were looking bright for the whole family, but the clouds soon returned.
Chapter 13
To Begin a School
‘“What was her plan?” A natural one – the next step to be mounted by us, or, at least, by her, if she wanted to rise in her profession. She proposed to begin a school. We already had the means for commencing on a careful scale, having lived greatly within our income. We possessed, too, by this time, an extensive and eligible connection, in the sense advantageous to our business; for, though our circle of visiting acquaintances continued as limited as ever, we were now widely known in schools and families as teachers.’
Charlotte Brontë, The Professor
By the middle of 1841, three of the four Brontë siblings were in employment. Branwell, as we have seen, was a chief clerk on the railways, a position that paid well and that offered the prospects of future advancement. Charlotte was at Rawdon, where her mother and father had first met, as governess to the White family. Anne was now in her second governess position, to the Robinson family of the grand Thorp Green Hall near York. Emily had herself had a brief position as teacher at Law Hill school at Southowram near Halifax, but was now back at the parsonage where she had become an excellent baker and housekeeper, as Charlotte readily acknowledged:
‘Emily is the only one left at home, where her usefulness and willingness make her indispensable1.’
Emily was showing great prowess at her domestic duties, which was a relief to both her aunt and father as they knew that her extremely reserved nature would make it difficult for her to obtain a position outside of the parsonage. She was an enigma to Elizabeth, and Emily’s character stood in sharp contrast to her aunt’s. Whilst Elizabeth had loved to participate in all the joyous events that Penzance had to offer, Emily preferred the company of those she knew and when in the company of strangers, she often remained completely silent. This was as a result of shyness rather than any rudeness or sense of superiority on Emily’s part, but it could easily be taken the wrong way by those who didn’t know her.
As the years progressed, Emily retreated more and more into the imaginary world of Gondal which she had created with Anne, and her daily walks upon the moors became longer and longer as she enveloped herself in the two things she loved most; nature and her own imagination. Emily’s love of nature also found fulfilment in the succession of pets that she and her sisters had throughout their lives. Best known are Emily’s dogs Grasper and Keeper, fierce in nature but fiercely loyal to their mistress, and Anne’s dog Flossy, a black and white spaniel given to her as a token of appreciation by the Robinson children she governed. There were also rabbits, a succession of cats, geese named Adelaide and Victoria after the royal princesses, and animals that Emily had rescued, injured, from the moor and brought home, including a pheasant, Jasper, and a hawk named Nero.
This was one subject on which aunt and nieces differed, for while Anne and Emily adored animals, Elizabeth thought that a crowded parsonage building was no place in which to keep them. She had an ally in this in Charlotte, as shown in Ellen Nussey’s account of her fear of strange animals, but seeing the joy her two youngest nieces got from their pets she let them have their way, especially as they were not overly blessed with companions of the two-legged kind. The collection of parsonage pets was referred to by Anne Brontë in her 1841 diary paper:
‘We have got Keeper, got a sweet little cat and lost it and also got a hawk, got a wild goose which has flown away and 3 tame ones, one of which has been killed2.’
Some have taken this to mean that Elizabeth had the goose killed, but why would she then leave the others alone? A far more likely explanation is that the goose was taken by a poacher or killed by a natural predator.
Another thing Elizabeth found hard to avoid was the collection of writing from her nieces and, at least in his younger years, nephew. From their childhood, she had seen them gather around the dining table, or cluster together at the foot of a bed, as they discussed fantastic plots or read each other their latest poems. Undoubtedly, Elizabe
th was sometimes read some of these early literary effusions too, bringing a swell of joy to her heart. She could not fail to mistake the signs of talent in their writing, and although this could never be considered as a potential career, of course, it was a harmless way for them to pass their time. The love of reading that she shared with their father had obviously been taken up by the children as well, and it was now finding an outlet in writing, just as it had with her cousin John Carne.
By this summer of 1841, Elizabeth had been at Haworth parsonage for twenty years. She had witnessed great tragedies, not only the death of her sister but of her two eldest nieces Maria and Elizabeth, snatched away in the midst of childhood. She had also shared moments of laughter and love, and proved a steady guide and financial supporter whenever called upon. Elizabeth had promised to take care of her sister’s poor children, and she had not betrayed her oath; they had now grown from a baby and little children to fully grown adults making their way in the world. Each had their own character: Emily was reserved yet fiercely intelligent; Anne was shy but hard-working and determined to overcome her difficulties; Charlotte was fiery and proud, yet kind; and Branwell could be brilliant and funny, although he bore all too clearly the scars of his early childhood losses. Elizabeth had done all she could for them, and she could be proud of the results. Now it was time for them to chart their own passage through life.
Even Patrick now had able assistance to help him with the heavy workload that being Haworth’s minister brought. William Weightman was a young man from Westmorland, newly graduated from Durham University, who arrived in Haworth in August 1839 to act as his assistant curate. He was a kind-hearted and learned man who won Patrick’s approval during hours spent together debating matters of theology; as we know that Elizabeth too had similar discussions with Patrick, she may also have been present at some of these meetings, and would have been equally impressed.
Aunt Branwell and the Brontë Legacy Page 13