Charlotte Brontë is one of the few
writers whose life has assumed as great a presence in the popular
imagination as her works themselves. As Lucasta Miller observes in her book
The Brontë Myth, a study of the various
afterlives of the Brontë sisters through biography, “the sisters themselves,
plus their entire family, have become mythic figures in their own right.
Since 1857, when Elizabeth Gaskell published her famous Life of Charlotte Brontë, hardly a year has gone by
without some form of biographical material on the Brontës appearing—from
articles in newspapers to full-length lives, from images on tea towels to
plays, films, and novelizations” (Miller, xi). The idea of three sisters,
the daughters of a lower middle-class curate living an isolated life in a
Yorkshire moorland village, producing some of the most complex and moving
literature of the century, turned the Brontës into celebrities within their
lifetime, and their notoriety has only increased over the years. Their
childhood home at Haworth Parsonage has become the site of tourist
pilgrimages, where enthusiasts travel to see the attic where the children
wrote, in miniscule handwriting, their first imaginative tales. As Miller
points out, the popular fascination with the lives of the Brontë sisters
often threatens to overshadow serious critical interest in their works.
Digging through the cultural accretions of myth and fantasy, however, one
can see how powerfully the Brontës’ lives affected their work, and how they
transformed an often bleak and tragic existence, marginalized by their
geographic location but also by their gender, into the material for art.
Though Anne and Emily were also published novelists and poets, Charlotte was
the most prolific of the three, and remains the most popular.
Charlotte Brontë is one of the few
writers whose life has assumed as great a presence in the popular
imagination as her works themselves. As Lucasta Miller observes in her book
The Brontë Myth, a study of the various
afterlives of the Brontë sisters through biography, “the sisters themselves,
plus their entire family, have become mythic figures in their own right.
Since 1857, when Elizabeth Gaskell published her famous Life of Charlotte Brontë, hardly a year has gone by
without some form of biographical material on the Brontës appearing—from
articles in newspapers to full-length lives, from images on tea towels to
plays, films, and novelizations” (Miller, xi). The idea of three sisters,
the daughters of a lower middle-class curate living an isolated life in a
Yorkshire moorland village, producing some of the most complex and moving
literature of the century, turned the Brontës into celebrities within their
lifetime, and their notoriety has only increased over the years. Their
childhood home at Haworth Parsonage has become the site of tourist
pilgrimages, where enthusiasts travel to see the attic where the children
wrote, in miniscule handwriting, their first imaginative tales. As Miller
points out, the popular fascination with the lives of the Brontë sisters
often threatens to overshadow serious critical interest in their works.
Digging through the cultural accretions of myth and fantasy, however, one
can see how powerfully the Brontës’ lives affected their work, and how they
transformed an often bleak and tragic existence, marginalized by their
geographic location but also by their gender, into the material for art.
Though Anne and Emily were also published novelists and poets, Charlotte was
the most prolific of the three, and remains the most popular.
Charlotte was
the third of six children, born to
Patrick and Maria Branwell Brontë
on April 21, 1816, at the Market Street Parsonage in Thornton, near Bradford in Yorkshire. When Charlotte was four years old,
the family moved to the village of
Haworth in Yorkshire, where
her father had been appointed perpetual curate. Charlotte’s mother died shortly thereafter, in 1821, leaving
Patrick to raise the young family. (Charlotte’s siblings Branwell,
Emily, and Anne had been born in 1817, 1818, and 1820, respectively.) The
children’s aunt, Elizabeth Branwell, came to help care for them.
In 1824,
Charlotte and Emily were sent to join their two older sisters, Maria and Elizabeth, at the
Clergy Daughters' School at Cowan Bridge in Lancashire. The traumatic experience they had
there, caused by harsh discipline and poor diet, would remain in Charlotte’s
memory all her life, emerging in her later fiction. The Clergy Daughters'
School became Lowood School in Jane Eyre, and its
founder, the Reverend William Carus Wilson, was the model for Mr.
Brocklehurst, the hypocritical Calvinistic disciplinarian in that novel.
An epidemic of typhoid fever broke out at the school, and both Maria and
Elizabeth fell victim to the disease. Maria was sent home in February 1825, and died in May. Elizabeth
was sent home in late May, and Patrick soon thereafter sent for Charlotte
and Emily to be brought back to Haworth as well. Elizabeth died on the 15th of June. Charlotte
immortalized her oldest sister Maria as the long-suffering, angelic
character Helen Burns in Jane Eyre.
Charlotte, Branwell, Emily, and Anne became increasingly close after the loss of their
two oldest siblings. Taking refuge from grief in imaginative play, the four
children began to make up stories, opposing the arbitrariness of death with
the control of authorship. Their first stories took inspiration from a box
of Branwell’s tin soldiers, but as they outgrew these toys, the children
established their tales in worlds of their own creation. Not surprisingly,
Charlotte and Branwell dominated their younger sisters in these plays, and
eventually the siblings split off into two groups—Charlotte and Branwell
chronicling the imaginary kingdom of Angria, while Emily and Anne created
the alternate world of Gondal (Miller, 5). Sibling rivalry fuelled these
endeavors, as well as collaboration, and Charlotte often felt threatened by
Branwell’s early sense of entitlement with regard to the male-dominated
world of literary production.
Charlotte
and her siblings were prolific readers as well as writers. Her novels are
steeped in literary and biblical allusion, the product of this wide-ranging
education in classical and contemporary writers. “Unlike most middle-class
Victorian households,” writes Christine Alexander, “there was little
censorship of reading in the Brontë parsonage. The Bible was staple fare;
yet Patrick Brontë also encouraged an
eclectic diet of Homer, Virgil, Shakespeare, Bunyan, Milton, Pope, Johnson,
Gibbon, Cowper, Burns, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Scott, Southey, and Byron”
(ODNB). The children also devoured the poetry and prose published in monthly
periodicals, such as Blackwood’s Magazine and Fraser’s.
One of the writers who most influenced Charlotte as an emerging writer was
Lord Byron (1788-1824). His poetry furnished her imagination with exotic
settings and dashing heroes. Byron’s legacy, writes Miller, can be seen “her
obsession with the amours of her aristocratic hero, Zamorna” (Miller, 8).
Zamorna became the central focus of Charlotte’s Angrian tales, and it is
clear that he captured her imagination in a manner bordering on
hero-worship. Tall, dark and Byronic, Zamorna was charismatic and sexually
potent. One can see in Zamorna the embryonic form of Brontë’s tortured,
brooding hero Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre, though
Charlotte’s unqualified admiration for this type of character would become
more ambivalent and nuanced over the intervening years.
In January
1831, Charlotte was sent to the Roe Head
School, about 15 miles from home. This second experience with
institutional education was much more positive than the first. Charlotte
worked hard at her studies, and formed several lasting friendships. Two
women in particular would become lifelong friends and correspondents: “the
conscientious, calm, religious Ellen
Nussey who fulfilled Charlotte's dutiful self and need for
affection, and the fiercely independent Mary Taylor, whose radical views on politics, women, and religion
fuelled Charlotte's ambitious and rebellious nature” (ODNB). In many ways
these two very different women exemplified a split in Charlotte’s nature,
which tension would emerge in her writing. Charlotte would often express
feelings of doubt and guilt over the working of her “fiery imagination” in
letters to Ellen Nussey, worrying
that the content of her writing was not appropriate for a clergyman’s
daughter (Miller, 12). Though she stayed at Roe Head for only eighteen
months as a pupil, Charlotte excelled in French and drawing, as well as
continuing to write.
Charlotte went back to Haworth briefly, but returned to Roe Head in July
1835, this time as a teacher. Charlotte remained there for three and a half
years. She soon became impatient however, at the strictures of the life she
was leading. Charlotte confessed to her journal her frustrations with her
straitjacketed world: “The thought came over me: am I to
spend all the best part of my life in this wretched bondage, forcibly
suppressing my rage at the idleness, the apathy and the hyperbolical and
most asinine stupidity of those fatheaded oafs, and on compulsion
assuming an air of kindness, patience and assiduity?” (ODNB).
She continued
to harbor literary ambitions secretly while at Roe Head. Once, while on
holiday, she sent some of her poems to Robert Southey, the Poet Laureate of
England. This was an audacious move, and Charlotte revealed to him in her
letter her desire “to be forever known” (Miller, 10). Southey was gracious
enough to write back, but his response was far from encouraging. He
admitted that she possessed “the faculty of Verse,” but declared
unequivocally that “Literature cannot be the business of a woman’s life:
& it ought not to be.” He advised her to attend to her “proper
duties” as a woman, and to be “less eager for celebrity” (Miller
12). Chastised, Charlotte responded that she attempted to repress
herself and conceal her ambitions from those around her. The accusation that
her ambitions were “unfeminine” would plague Charlotte all her life.
Charlotte felt increasingly guilty about her continued indulgence of her
Angrian fantasies, which nurtured her passionate desire to be loved and
understood. John Maynard points to Charlotte’s continued obsession with the
hyper-masculine Zamorna, while a teacher at Roe Head. At nineteen years of
age, escaping the “mirthless, lifeless room” at the school, she recorded
this daydream:
Never shall I, Charlotte Brontë,
forget…how distinctly I, sitting in the school-room at Roe-head, saw the
Duke of Zamorna…his black horse turned loose grazing among the heather,
the moonlight so mild and so exquisitely tranquil, sleeping upon that
vast and vacant road…I was quite gone. I had really utterly forgot where
I was and all the gloom and cheerlessness of my situation. I felt myself
breathing quick and short as I beheld the Duke lifting up his sable
crest which undulated as the plume of a hearse waves to the wind, and
knew that that music…was exciting him and quickening his ever rapid
pulse. (Maynard, 13-14)
Charlotte worried that this kind of passionate fantasy was unwholesome, and
confessed her doubts to Ellen Nussey.
Nussey’s conventional
Christian advice only increased Charlotte’s sense of her own
sinfulness. Charlotte left Roe Head in 1838, chastened and sobered
by her experiences, but not quenched in her literary ambition.
Returning home, Charlotte continued to write; two more novellas in the
Angrian mode concluded her involvement in the saga. “Although Angria
continued to provide material for future characterization, scene, and
theme,” writes Alexander, “she made a distinct move towards artistic
independence from both her brother and her private world” (ODNB).
In 1839, Charlotte received two proposals of marriage, both of which she
refused. The first was from the Reverend Henry Nussey, Ellen’s brother. The
second was from the Reverend James Bryce, an Irish clergyman whom she barely
knew. Nussey’s passionless and pious proposal formed the basis for
Charlotte’s portrayal of St. John Rivers in Jane
Eyre. Both Charlotte and Jane’s refusal of such matches would have
been considered imprudent and even shocking in Brontë’s time. It was
somewhat radical to refuse a respectable offer and to hold out for a
marriage based on love. Either Nussey or Bryce would have been considered an
eminently suitable match for Charlotte; if she had accepted one of them, it
would have obviated the need to hire herself out as a governess, one of the
few respectable career options available to a woman of her class.
Following this, Charlotte endured two brief stints as a governess, a position
she enjoyed even less than teaching. Brontë’s resentment of the treatment
she received, and the tendency of the upper classes to treat governesses as
subhuman, would emerge in her fiction, much of which dealt with the
humiliations endured by women forced to earn their living in these degrading
circumstances.
Returning home in 1841, Charlotte began to make plans with Emily and Anne to
open their own school. However, the sisters felt they could attract more
pupils if their language skills were more robust. Plans for the school were
postponed in favor of a scheme in which Charlotte and Emily would enroll at
a school in Brussels in order to
improve their French. The sisters traveled to Belgium in February 1842, and enrolled at the
Pensionnat Heger. In Constantin Heger, a professor of French
literature, Charlotte finally found a man who challenged her intellectually
and encouraged her literary ambitions. Heger was, by all accounts, a strict
master, and his comments on the Brontës’ French compositions show that he
did not spare his criticism, even though he was impressed by the abilities
of these young Englishwomen.
Charlotte and Emily were called home in
October by the death of their Aunt Branwell. Emily decided to stay
in England and live off the legacy she had received from their aunt, and
Charlotte returned alone to Brussels in January 1843. Madame Heger’s increasing
coldness towards Charlotte, who was obviously devoted to her husband,
alienated Charlotte from the Hegers and contributed to her feelings of
loneliness and depression. (She would later use this time in her
life as material for her novels The Professor and
Villette.) By the end of 1843, Charlotte had
decided to return to Haworth.
Charlotte’s depression deepened upon her return to England. Plans for the girls’ school fell through, and
Charlotte longed for the company of M. Heger. She wrote him a series of
increasingly desperate and passionate letters, to which he did not reply.
Charlotte’s unrequited love tortured her, and she begged Heger to write back
to her. Wounded by his silence, Charlotte discontinued her correspondence
with him.
Her private suffering was compounded by shared family trials, when Branwell was dismissed in disgrace
from his post as tutor for having an affair with his employer’s wife.
Branwell led a dissipated and self-destructive life after this, nursing his
addiction to alcohol and opium. Charlotte’s brother became a strain on his
family and his health began a rapid decline.
Once again, Charlotte took refuge from grief in work, focusing on her goal of
becoming a published writer. In 1845, she discovered a notebook containing
Emily’s poetry, and persuaded her that they merited publication. Charlotte,
Emily and Anne edited and selected a portion of their verse and submitted it
for consideration. They chose androgynous pseudonyms to avoid criticism
based on their gender. Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton
Bell was published in 1846 by Aylott and Jones, at the authors’
expense (using money from their aunt’s legacy). The book sold only two
copies, but received several favorable reviews, which was enough to
encourage the sisters to continue.
The three began to work on prose next, perfecting their novels in the hopes
of publication. Charlotte drew on her Brussels experience for her first
novel, The Professor. Emily wrote Wuthering Heights, reworking her Gondal saga in an English
setting, and Anne wrote Agnes Grey, based on her
life as a governess (ODNB). All three sent their manuscripts to publishers
for consideration. Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey were accepted by Thomas Cautley Newby in
July 1847, but The Professor was not so well
received. Christine Alexander points out that Charlotte wrote The Professor in reaction against her Angrian
fantasies (ODNB). In what is now known as “The Farewell to Angria” (1839),
Charlotte had expressed her determination to “quit for awhile that burning
clime where we have sojourned too long…lit with love, flushed with passion,
shaded with grief, kindled with ecstasy,” and move “to a cooler region where
the dawn breaks grey and sober” (Maynard, 14). Alexander argues that the
result of this artistic decision was a novel stiff and detached, not true to
its author’s emotional experiences and inner knowledge. The Professor was never published during Charlotte’s lifetime.
However, the firm of Smith, Elder & Co. had offered encouragement in
their rejection letter, indicating that they would be interested to read
anything Charlotte might send to them in future. By August 1847, Charlotte
had sent them the manuscript of Jane Eyre. George
Smith, one of the publishers, recorded that he was so engrossed when he
began to read the novel that he cancelled his plans to go out riding with a
friend and skipped dinner in order to finish it in one sitting (Miller, 16).
The next day he wrote to “Currer Bell” to offer £100 for the copyright. Jane Eyre was published in October 1847 and was an
instant bestseller. The novel also received critical acclaim: literary
celebrities such as G. H. Lewes and William Makepeace Thackeray praised
it.
Semi-autobiographical in content, Jane Eyre is the
story of an unloved orphan whose experience of suffering and neglect fail to
subdue her passion and will to become independent. Charlotte Brontë finally
found her voice in Jane Eyre. Casting aside the
dispassionate third-person male narration of The
Professor, Brontë audaciously adopted the voice of Jane, a
first-person female narrator. Jane’s insistence on her sense of self-worth
and dignity, in spite of her gender and social position, was a powerful
critique of mid-Victorian life, and not surprisingly, ruffled quite a few
feathers.
Jane Eyre’s psychologically astute portrayal of a
female voice and perspective led many readers to assume that its author was,
in fact, a woman. Some readers, especially women, were shocked by the
novel’s frank depiction of passionate desire, its discussion of adultery,
and sometimes angry and rebellious tone. Elizabeth Rigby (later Lady
Eastlake) expressed the disapproval felt by some readers most memorably, in
her anonymous critique, published in the Quarterly
Review in December 1848. Rigby deplored the novel’s “coarseness of
language and laxity of tone” and described Jane’s independent spirit as
unfeminine. She condemned the novel as “anti-Christian” and the heroine as
“the personification of an unregenerate and undisciplined spirit” who had
“the strength of a mere heathen mind which is a law unto itself.” If, as had
been speculated, the author was indeed a woman, Rigby declared that she must
be one who “has for some sufficient reason, long forfeited the society of
her own sex” (Miller, 22-23).
It is ironic that the assumption of an androgynous pseudonym, rather than
shielding Charlotte from censure, should have led to such vicious gossip and
speculation. Charlotte dedicated her second edition of Jane Eyre to Thackeray, unaware that such a move was likely to
spark more gossip. Thackeray, like Rochester, had a wife who was mentally
ill, leading to rumors that Jane Eyre had been
written by Thackeray’s mistress.
Charlotte finally revealed her true identity to her publishers, after Thomas
Newby attempted to capitalize on the popularity of Charlotte’s recent novel
by claiming that Agnes Grey and Wuthering Heights were written by the same author as Jane Eyre. Charlotte and Anne traveled to London to confirm their identities to
Charlotte’s publisher George Smith, who welcomed them and took them to the
opera, the Royal Academy, and the National Gallery (ODNB).
Upon her return to Haworth, Charlotte began work on her next novel, Shirley, but her new literary success was soon
overshadowed by family tragedy. Within a year, all three of her
remaining siblings were dead. Branwell’s health had been declining steadily,
weakened by alcoholism and addiction to opiates. His grandiose expectations
of artistic or literary fame never came to fruition. Branwell died of chronic bronchitis in
September 1848, at age thirty-one. Charlotte grieved as much for
Branwell’s wasted life as she did for his death.
mily caught a cold on the
day of Branwell’s funeral. She grew steadily weaker, refusing to consult
a doctor, despite Charlotte’s urging.
She died in December 1848, of
pulmonary tuberculosis, at age thirty.
Anne also displaying
symptoms of tuberculosis, Charlotte rushed her to the seaside in an
attempt to help her recover, but Anne died in May 1849, aged twenty-nine.
The
sole surviving Brontë sibling, Charlotte was bereft of her imaginative and
literary support. Lonely and desolate, Charlotte still managed to
finish Shirley by the end of August 1849. It was
published in October by Smith, Elder & Co. Shirley was not as successful as Jane Eyre, but nevertheless, it did address important social
issues of the day. This novel was Charlotte’s attempt to address the
“condition of women” issue, as well as the class conflicts of
industrialization. Avoiding the topics that had aroused such scandal with
Jane Eyre, Charlotte declared that Shirley would be “as unromantic as Monday morning”
(ODNB). This foray into strict realism did not produce Brontë’s most
powerful work, but Shirley is still an ambitious and
masterful novel.
While Charlotte kept her identity a secret from the public, for the time
being, she was curious to meet the literary celebrities of London, and asked George Smith to
introduce her to some of them when she stayed with him and his mother in
1849 and 1850. There she met such prominent writers as Thackeray and Lewes,
who noted her shyness and her lack beauty. Charlotte had
always been self-conscious about her unimpressive physicality, and it seems
these encounters caused her more uneasiness than pleasure. She also met Elizabeth Gaskell on a trip to Edinburgh in 1850. Gaskell was a
novelist who would become Charlotte’s friend and confidant, and later, her
first biographer.
The criticism she had received for Jane Eyre still
rankled, however, and now that her sisters were dead, there was no longer as
much reason for concealing the sisters’ true identity. (Emily had been the
most fiercely protective of her privacy.) Charlotte decided to clear her
reputation, as well as her sisters’. She issued a second edition of Agnes Grey and Wuthering
Heights (this time published by Smith, Elder & Co.) with a
“Biographical Notice” appended to it, in which she revealed her sisters’
true identity and defended their work. However, the defensive tone that she
adopts is also curiously apologetic, and seems to infantilize Emily and
Anne. Charlotte protests that her sisters were merely ignorant Yorkshire
girls who didn’t know any better, and didn’t mean to offend. She describes
Haworth as a “remote district where education had made little progress”
(Miller, 28), urging this in extenuation of her sisters’ errors. This
depiction was certainly an act of misrepresentation, albeit sincerely meant.
In the introduction to her seminal biography of the Brontës, Juliet Barker
describes how she trawled through the archives of local newspapers published
in the time of the Brontës, unearthing a large amount of information that
controverts "the
myth that Haworth was a remote and obscure village where nothing ever
happened. It was a township, a small, industrial town in the heart of a
much larger chapelry, where politics and religion were hotly disputed
and culture thrived” (Barker, xix).
However, if the view of Haworth
Parsonage as a completely isolated landmark in the midst of
unadulterated moorland is a popular myth, as both Miller and Barker
observe, it is a myth that is partly of Charlotte Brontë’s own making. This
myth was embellished by Elizabeth Gaskell in her famous Life of Charlotte Brontë, which attempted to portray Charlotte as
a dutiful, self-denying woman—sanitizing anything controversial in her works
or papers. Gaskell discusses Brontë’s career as an author in gendered terms,
seeing the role of author and the role of woman as competing for first place
in Charlotte’s priorities. Gaskell emphasizes her belief that for Charlotte,
the duties of womanhood always came first. “When a man becomes an author,”
writes Gaskell, “it is probably merely a change of employment to
him…[another] steps into his vacant place, and probably does as well as he.”
For a woman, however, cannot shirk her domestic responsibilities to pursue a
career:
But
no other can take up the quiet regular duties of the daughter, the wife,
or the mother, as well as she whom God has appointed to fill that
particular place: a woman’s principal work in life is hardly left to her
own choice; nor can she drop the domestic charges devolving on her as an
individual, for the exercise of the most splendid talents that were ever
bestowed. (Gaskell, 271-272)
Gaskell was obviously at pains to prove to the world that Charlotte did not
neglect her “principal work” as a woman in order to exercise her talents,
that she was a dutiful daughter and sister, without unfeminine ambitions. As
Gaskell’s biography was commissioned by Patrick Brontë to fight the “misrepresentations” that had sullied
his daughter’s image, such an idealized portrayal of Charlotte is hardly
surprising (Miller, 64). Gaskell’s portrayal continued to influence popular
and scholarly conceptions of Charlotte’s life, and it is only recently that
the larger picture has begun to be pieced together.
In her last completed novel, Villette, Charlotte
reworked the material she had previously used in The
Professor, again drawing on her experiences in Brussels and her
unrequited love for Constantin Heger. In Villette,
Charlotte returned to the first-person female narrator, this time the
character Lucy Snowe, who travels to Villette, an imaginary version of
Brussels, to teach in a girls’ school. Lucy is in some ways a more complex,
although less likeable, narrator than Jane Eyre. Her paranoia and secrecy
lead her to conceal information, even from the reader. Villette contains the promise of fulfillment in love, but the
ending remains ambiguous.
Published in January 1843, Villette met with mixed
reviews. Thackeray characteristically attributed the heroine’s longing for
love to the author herself. “Poor little woman of genius!” he wrote to a
friend, “She wants some Tomkins or another to love her and be in love with.
But you see she is a little bit of a creature without a pennyworth of good
looks…and no Tomkins will come” (Maynard, 15). Like Gaskell, Thackeray
implies that women can gain true fulfillment only in conventional
domesticity; literary achievement is a sort of consolation prize.
Ironically, Charlotte would soon after achieve the kind of domestic happiness
from which Thackeray thought she was permanently excluded. Her father’s
curate, Arthur Bell Nicholls,
declared his attachment to Charlotte. Although Patrick Brontë initially disapproved of the match,
Charlotte and Arthur were married in Haworth Church on June 29, 1854. They
spent their honeymoon in Ireland, and then returned to Haworth to care for
Charlotte’s aging father.
Charlotte’s letters reveal that it was a happy marriage, but sadly, her new
happiness was short-lived. In the early stages of pregnancy, Charlotte was
weakened by morning sickness, caught a chill, and died on March 31, 1855. She had been
married less than a year. At her death, Charlotte left the manuscript of her
last novel Emma unfinished.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Alexander, Christine. “Charlotte Brontë (1816-1855).” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. 2004.
http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/3523
Barker, Juliet. The Brontës. Weidenfeld and
Nicholson, London: 1994.
Gaskell, Elizabeth. The Life of Charlotte Brontë. Ed.
Angus Easson. Oxford University Press, Oxford: 1996.
Maynard, John. Charlotte Brontë and Sexuality.
Cambridge University Press, Cambridge: 1984.
Miller, Lucasta. The Brontë Myth. Alfred A. Knopf,
New York: 2003.