I’m celebrating the life and work ...

…  of the Bronte sisters today because Charlotte was born on this day in 1816.  Read on …

It’s natural to think of the Bronte sisters as being only Charlotte, Emily and Anne, as they are the ones we know most about and are always associated with their brother Branwell, and their books.  But when Charlotte was born in 1816, she was the third of a family of six children.  Her two elder sisters were Maria and Elizabeth.

Born in Thornton near Bradford, Charlotte and the rest of the family moved to Haworth in 1820 because Patrick Bronte had secured the post of perpetual curate at St Michael’s and All Angels Church in the village.  Soon after arriving in Haworth, Maria Bronte (née Branwell) fell ill and subsequently died on September 15th, 1821.  The death of Maria, left their father Patrick with six children to rear and a full-time post as curate to manage alongside his own grief.  In August 1824, Charlotte and Emily, along with their two older sisters Maria and Elizabeth, were sent to the Clergy Daughters’ School at Cowan Bridge, Lancashire.  In 1825, because conditions at the school were insanitary and following an outbreak of Typhus, Patrick brought his children home to the paronsage.  Unfortunately, it was too late for Maria and Elizabeth and they both died shortly afterwards.  Charlotte always maintained that, her slight build, short stature, poor eyesight, and recurring bouts of ill-health, were a direct consequence of the conditions at the school.  I can only wonder at the extent to which those early experiences featured in her book, Jane Eyre.

At the age of nine Charlotte, in conjunction with her Aunt, Elizabeth Branwell, became guardian and mentor for the younger siblings.  It was during this period of her life that Charlotte first took up writing and story-making.  She also began writing poetry and creating plays.

At the age of fifteen in 1831, Charlotte was sent to Roe Head Boarding School in Mirfield.  It was here that she met two other girls who became life-long friends and correspondents.  The following year she left the school to return home to teach her sisters.

In 1835, Charlotte took up a teaching post at Roe Head and she remained there until 1838. Her time at the school was not happy and she immersed herself in her writing and completed Farewell to Angria in 1839.  Between 1839 and 1841 Charlotte worked as a governess for a number of local families.  I’m sure some of those experiences must have provided her with material for scenes in her later books, too.

In 1842, Charlotte accompanied her sister Emily to Brussels and the Pensionnat Héger, a boarding school run by Constantin Héger and his wife.  Both sisters were scholars at the establishment.  Although Héger (1809-1896) was a renowned professor and literary figure of that time, he is largely remembered now only for his relationship with Charlotte.  Indeed, was he the individual who inspired the titular character in her later work, The Professor?  Whilst he may have had a choleric temperament, he was a great influence on Charlotte’s writing.  Her time in Brussels came to an end in October 1842.  The sisters returned to the UK because their aunt had died.

In the following January, Charlotte travelled to Brussles alone to take up a teaching post at the pensionnat.  That journey, which she found alarming, would later be recreated in her book, Villette.  Her period working at the school was solitary, her interest in Constantin became obsessive and unrequited, and she missed her home in Yorkshire.  Twelve months later, she was back in Howarth.

A brief period working with her sisters to create their own school proved unsuccessful and spurred Charlotte on to pursue her own writing career.  In May 1846, and at Charlotte’s insistence, the sisters paid for a collection of poems to be published under the pseudonyms of Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell.  It would seem that self-publishing is not solely the invention of the 21st century!  The collection hardly sold at all, but Charlotte made sure that some prominent gentlemen-of-words of the time were presented with a copy.  Later that same year, Charlotte submitted The Professor, Emily’s Wuthering Heights, and Anne’s Agnes Grey to a publisher in London.  Her sisters' stories were accepted, but Charlotte’s manuscript was rejected. Undeterred, Charlotte submitted Jane Eyre to a different publisher in August 1847.  This novel was published shortly afterwards and became a success to such an extent that it is now considered to be a classic.  In 1848, Charlotte began her third novel, Shirley.  The work on this book was overshadowed by the illness and death of each of her three siblings over a nine-month period.  Shirley was eventually published in October 1849 to a less-than-welcoming audience of readers.  The book never achieved the status of Jane Eyre.

The sisters' workroom, Haworth

Villette, Charlotte’s final novel, was published in 1853.  The following year Charlotte married Arthur Nicholls, an Irish clergyman from Antrim, on June 29th, 1854.  It appears that marriage suited Charlotte, but it was not to last long.  After finding some happiness, she and her unborn child died on March 31st, 1855.

As an appropriate postscript to a life dedicated to writing, The Professor was published posthumously in 1857.  Charlotte left the beginnings of another novel when she died, and that unfinished manuscript, along with some of her earlier writings, has been completed and published.

… if you enjoyed this post, you might also be interested in my posts on the life and works of  M. R. James, Virginia Woolf,  Rumer Godden,  or   A. A. Milne

 

I'm not running with my planned blogpost today because ...

... something very exciting is coming to town.  Read on to find out more ...

In my very small and very sleepy little bit of Yorkshire, nothing much happens really.  Night inevitably follows day, sometimes leaving me with a fabulous sunset to admire, like the one from last week pictured to the right.  

The year's lambs arrive in spring and take up temporary residence in one of the fields surrounding the village.  The four seasons pass as always, bringing the best and the worst of the weather as dictated by the winds and the ocean currents.  The cherry tree in my garden blossoms, the flowers and the lawns grow, all of which is followed by the wind-down of each year as we move steadily through the calendar to the year-end and the cold and stasis of winter.

But this year, there's a big event happening for film enthusiasts and writers.  Okay, it's not happening in my tiny little village, but it is definitely happening not that far away.  Indeed, if my village had a regular bus service, I would be able to say that the event was just a bus ride away!  

And how do I know all of this?  Purely by accident.  The weekend of April 11th saw the Crime Writers' Association Northern Symposium take place in Buxton.  Over dinner, I had the great fortune to be seated opposite two people who were involved in putting together the particular event that is happening right on my doorstep!  Well, perhaps not literally on my doorstep, but certainly near enough for me and some of my fellow writers in Doncaster Writers Group to attend.

What, where, and when is this big thing?  The 'What' is the Sykehouse Film and Writers' Festival 2026.  The 'Where' is in Doncaster and the 'When' is May.  I'll leave you to investigate further because there is so much to find out.  So, just click on the link for more information and tickets from the official website/blog which is Here

In the meantime, I will relax in the sunshine in my sleepy little bit of Yorkshire.  It'll be good to see you at the big event ... 

I'm continuing my journey following the Granville-Paris Express ...

… and I’m now in Vire, a small town in Normandy, just 55Ks inland from Granville.  Join me as I take a stroll through the streets …

It was a book and a train that prompted my current journey, particularly the Granville-Paris Express of October 1895.  That train left Granville early, at 8.45 in the morning and took just over an hour to reach Vire.  Travel by train at that time was much slower and dirtier due to coal dust and the steam from the engine.  Travel by rail was also very much a class-based thing, with more expensive, comfortable seats in first class for wealthier travellers and a gradual decline in comfort and space for second- and third-class passengers.

I’m not taking the train.  It’s too modern and too fast.  However, if you look at a map, you will see the current rail line leaves Granville and takes an almost due west direction that pretty much follows the route of the D924 to Villedieu-les-Poêles, which is where I’m camped.  At Villedieu, the D924 becomes the D524 to Noues and Vire, and the railway continues on a very similar course.  From the coastal area, the scenery begins to change, becoming more rolling as my journey takes me west.  It’s a dismal day in September, and there are intermittent showers.

Vire has a population of just over 10,000 people, but its history stretches right back to the early Middle Ages.  The surrounding countryside is grassland and forest, ideal for farming and referred to as bocage.  The town sits on a river of the same name that flows for 128Ks out to the English Channel.  In the 12^th century, Vire was part of the duchy of Normandy and therefore, part of England for a while.  The original industries here were farming, leatherwork/tanning, and textiles.  When the Industrial Revolution reached Normandy, a railway was built, and the station here in Vire opened on October 1^st, 1866.  And that’s my first port of call.

As soon as I turn onto the street that gives me access to the station, I can see that I am out of luck.  The old 19th-century building I was hoping would still be there has been replaced by a more contemporary, clean-lined building constructed little more than 60 years ago.  During the Normandy bombings in 1944/45, this town, like so many others, was practically obliterated, with around 95% of what was here for earlier train visitors destroyed.  As I make my way back into the heart of town, I can see what little remains of the old is mixed with and overshadowed by the new.

Église Notre-Dame sits in the heart of what would have been the original old town.  Built in the Gothic style over a number of years, it replaced an old Romanesque church dating from the 12th century, which had been constructed on the orders of Henry 1 (Henri Beauclerc).  In the forties, it was severely damaged, and the restoration took 12 years to complete.  It is primarily constructed of granite and is considered one of the finest pieces of architecture in all of Normandy.

Walking on beyond the church, I find that the fair has come to town with its enormous caravan of confiserie.  I have to take a moment to consider how a vehicle of such size could get through some of the narrow streets to reach this spot!

On my way back through town, I come across the clock tower, which sits above the main gate to the old fortified town.  The gate dates from the 13^th century, with the clock and bell tower being added two hundred years later.  Despite the lack of sun and the showers, I manage to get a reasonable shot – see above.

The only other old artefacts that would have been here in 1895 for fellow travellers, that I can find, are the remains of the chateau and the old dungeon, which were part of the fortified town.  This large and impressive round tower is now surrounded by modern buildings and discoloured by exhaust emissions from the constant traffic around it.

If you enjoyed this post, you can find the previous ones by clicking the links Granville part 1 ,  Granville part 2 ,  and my review of the book, The Paris Express, is Here 

There will be more from my journey following the Granville-Paris Express next month, so keep watching this space…