Quantcast
Channel: Brussels Brontë Blog
Viewing all 217 articles
Browse latest View live

‘Op woeste hoogte’

$
0
0
It’s 1860. Patrick Brontë tells the story of his lifetime. It’s his last spring. He is alone. He is strong but a man of sorrow. He has seen his wife and six children die. His one son-in-law is the only family left to him in England. Strangers come to his house all the time because of his three famous daughters, the Brontë sisters.

Even though we know every word of this story, Vincent Bijlo tells it in his own inimitable way. With suprising links to our own time, both serious and ironic. The story gets even better, because Mariska Reijmerink weaves poems, mostly of Emily, through it by singing them beautifully with music she composed. They are accompanied by The Rossettis, musicians on piano, violin and drums, who really know what a poem needs.

If you understand Dutch and are anywhere near (or even not so near) the places they perform  go and hear them!

(See www.therossettis.com)

Marcia Zaaijer

Ola Podstawska and Jolien Janzing on M. Heger

$
0
0
Brussels Bronte Group members were treated to two delightful talks on Saturday, February 20, 2016 -- Ola Podstawka on the influence of Constantin Heger on the heroes in Charlotte Brontë's novels, and Jolien Janzing on her historical novel Charlotte Brontë's Secret Love.

Ola Podstawka

In her talk, ``Conjuring up Monsieur Heger'', Ola explained how the professor Charlotte found in Brussels had such a profound impact on her life and her art, illustrating how elements of M. Heger's personality are present in all the main heroes of Charlotte's novels.

Ola started by examining the heroes and heroines in ``the infernal world of Angria'' -- the juvenilia written by Charlotte and her brother Branwell before Charlotte came to Brussels in 1842. Most of the heroines are vapid beauties and the heroes cruel, handsome rakes, and the narrators male. Eventually, Charlotte develops a new heroine with hidden depths -- Elizabeth Hastings. But she remains single for want of a suitable man.

Charlotte needs a new type of hero to go with her new heroine, and she finds the prototype in Brussels in the person on M. Heger. Heger recognized Charlotte's talent and taught her how to hone her craft through discipline. But at the same time, he provided the model for a new kind of hero, a new idea of manhood. Heger is slightly older than Charlotte, short and broad, with a square face. He is irritable but inspirational, and Charlotte emerged from Brussels a better writer and a more experienced woman. An important part of that experience can be glimpsed in the letters that Charlotte sent to M. Heger after she left. Biographers have given several possible interpretations to these letters. Ola focused on them as an exercise in self-dramatization for Charlotte as she developed the character of a new type of hero.

That new hero starts to emerge in The Professor, in which William Crimsworth is not the handsome rake of the Angria stories, but a sentimental narrator who discovers passion in a plain heroine. He is of slight build with irregular features, a tell-tale sign of most of the intellectual male characters in Charlotte's novels. Then in Jane Eyre, Mr. Rochester has many of M. Heger's physical characteristics -- dark hair, broad forehead, sharp features, broad and square figure -- but he is really one of the old Angrian rakes put into a new context. Rochester needed a stripping of power before there could be a true union of souls with Jane.

In Shirley, Charlotte was inspired by Thackeray to try to be unsentimental, using a third-person narrator. Robert Moore is the handsome industrialist, while Louis Moore is the not-so-handsome intellectual (with those tell-tale ``irregular features''). Robert needs a stripping of power, like Rochester, before a happy ending can happen; while Louis, grave and retiring, is the surprising true protagonist of the story. In Villette, Charlotte's last novel, Graham Bretton is based on George Smith (Charlotte's publisher), while Paul Emmanuel is based on M. Heger. Graham Bretton (a.k.a. Dr. John) -- blue eyes, symmetrical features, cleft chin (``the epitome of male beauty for Charlotte'') -- is the focus of attention in the first part of the book, written as Charlotte was considering George Smith as a potential marriage prospect despite her wariness of handsome men. M. Paul is on the sidelines in the first part of the novel, but becomes the ultimate hero, as Charlotte's eventual real-life disappointment in George Smith confirmed that he was not a man for her new kind of heroine and prompted Charlotte to return to Heger as the prototype hero.

M. Heger proved the key for Charlotte as her writing evolved from Angria to her mature novels and she searched for her own distinctive voice. Her plain, passionate heroines required an equally original male hero, and Heger provided the blueprint -- passionate but discerning. Only this hero would understand the tumult of Charlotte's heroine's feelings. Heger -- the heroine's hero.

Jolien Janzing agreed that M. Heger had a huge influence on Charlotte Brontë. Jolien's historical fiction, Charlotte Brontë's Secret Love, describes the relationship between Charlotte and her teacher, focusing more on the personal aspects of the connection than the impact on Charlotte's writing. The novel, which was published originally in Dutch under the title De Meester (The Master), also features a parallel relationship -- the romance between King Leopold I and his mistress Arcadie Claret.

Jolien Janzing

Jolien, who is Dutch and has lived in Flanders for a long time, was able to give the perspective from the European side of the Channel on Charlotte's time in Brussels. Using excerpts from letters and her novel, Jolien gave us a vivid picture of nineteenth-century Brussels and what might have been going on between Charlotte and her teacher.

Noting that the manners of continental gentlemen such as M. Heger were not as reserved as their English counterparts at this time, Jolien said she ``cannot imagine'' that Charlotte ``would fall in love with him without any encouragement on his part.'' Her conclusion on M. Heger: ``He was not only an excellent teacher but also a terrible flirt.''

Jones Hayden

'Villette' rocks Brussels, or was there really a scandal in the city?

$
0
0
It has been suggested, or rumoured, that there was a sort of scandal in Brussels following the publication of Villette. The big question is of course whether this can be true, and what it would have been like. In this article I hope to get somewhat closer to answering this question. In the previous articles I wrote about the editions that would have brought the novel to Brussels. We can assess the likelihood of a scandal with the help of some of this new information. It can allow us to say more on when it might have happened, for example.

Marion Spielmann, in an article in The Times of 17 August 1933, ‘After the Brontës – Life in the Pensionnat Heger,’ stated that “the Hegers were socially prominent in Brussels, and when the French translation of “Villette” appeared there was at least the raw material of a scandal in its love-story and its recognizable portraits of professor and governess.” Albert Colin, whom we also saw in the revenge article, wrote that, nevertheless, “the calumnies of the writer had no effect on the prosperity of the house, which was guaranteed from every attack by the excellence of its instruction and its clearly established lofty moral tone.”

When?
It is tempting to link the publication of the 1855 La maîtresse d’Anglais to the Hegers, and Brussels in general, learning about Villette, as Spielmann does. However, I would say it is likely that they had their first Villette visitors before the Revue Britannique started publishing La maîtresse in March 1855. Right from the beginning it was clear that the novel was situated in Brussels, as is shown by the review of it in The Athenaeum of 12 Feb 1853: “‘Villette’ is a narrative of the heart-affairs of the English instructress and the Belgian professor of literature in a school in Brussels.” On the same day it said in The Spectator that “Villette is Brussels, and Currer Bell might have called her new novel ‘Passages from the Life of a Teacher in a Girls’ School at Brussels, written by herself.’” Charlotte really made it very easy too to find out that the pensionnat was the Pensionnat Heger.

The Tauchnitz Villette of early 1853 was on sale at Brussels bookshops, and in Paris and many other places and countries. There was a pretty large British community in Brussels, and Charlotte was a very popular writer. Her new novel will therefore have been read by a good many people in Brussels, not only Britons. And even at that time there was a lot of tourism. There were some big steamboats, sailing regularly between Britain and Belgium. These brought thousands of English visitors to Brussels every year. And the ships also brought lots of visitors from America, where Villette was a popular novel.

In view of this it seems very likely that the Hegers had their first Villette visitors well before March 1855, when the Revue Britannique began to publish La maîtresse d’Anglais .
There is no clear link of course between (foreign) visitors and a possible scandal. Any scandal is of course related to publicity. Here though it appears there was no publicity at all. While we have seen many sources, both Brian Bracken and I have at least never found any confirmation of the scandal story.

References to the pre-La maîtresse period.
Mrs. Gaskell , in a letter to George Smith, dated 1 August 1855 (Chapple & Pollard (eds.)-The letters of Mrs. Gaskell (Manchester 1966), p. 366), wrote: “I hear Mme Hezer [sic] has lost all her pupils since the publication of Villette.“ She clearly refers here to the original 1853 English Villette. Not to the ongoing publication of La maîtresse. It’s certainly untrue that Madame Heger lost all her pupils, and doubtful if she lost any at all. We never found anything supporting this story. It’s clearly a very unreliable source she had for this story.

We also have apparently two references to the Tauchnitz Villette of 1853.
Frederika Macdonald, in 1894 (Promised Land, p 76), gives recollections of ‘Madame G’: “Several of the girls described in Villette were exactly painted physically, and as many harsh things were said about them, much indignation was felt at the time when the book was published. There had been a pupil in the school at the time Charlotte Brontë was there called Mlle. Beck. On several other occasions real names were given to different characters.”

Mrs. Chadwick has a similar story, perhaps about the same woman (in In the footsteps of the Brontës,  p 437): Villette“had not been published many months before one of her own school fellows at Brussels bought a copy, and, although she did not know that Currer Bell was her old school-mate, she recognised the scenes, and knew the author must have been at the Heger pensionnat. I handled that copy of Villette some time ago.” These are interesting glimpses of the effect of Villette in Brussels, of which we sadly have very few.

1855
Thanks to La maîtresse d’Anglais we can now say more about the 1855 chronology. It can’t be entirely excluded that the February Anglo-Belgian copyright treaty had an influence on the publishing of La maîtresse d’Anglais. When it was ratified the publishers knew for certain there was no copyright on the novel. The translation itself however will date from before February, the first part at least, as it should be ready for the first installment in the Revue Britannique.  We don’t know when exactly the March edition was published, but the printing process must have been set in motion previously. The publishers though will have known they had nothing to fear, well before the treaty was ratified. It’s very likely therefore that there’s no connection between the treaty and the Revue Britannique Villette.

Charlotte Brontë's death as reported in
l'Indépendance belge of 7 April 1855
As stated earlier, in the La maîtresse d’Anglais chapter, publishing began in March, when Charlotte was still alive. Lucy Snowe that month did already arrive in Brussels, in the first installment of the novel.
It would seem likely that there were only a few weeks between the Hegers hearing about La maîtresse d’anglais, and them hearing about Charlotte’s death, which was published in probably every newspaper. Villette has a nice reference to Madame Beck reading a newspaper, in the garden, with a cup of coffee at hand (Chapter 26). This is surely based on a real life observation of Madame Heger.

Newspaper boys in the Rue Isabelle in 1890, with the
newly printed edition of Le Soir
In May or June they may have bought the first volume, of the Rue Villa-Hermosa Villette, with the text of the first three installments of the Revue Britannique Villette. Three months later they may have bought volume 2. It is likely though, it seems to me, that they would have bought the Revue Britannique too, not wishing to wait some months to see what Charlotte had written in the next chapters. It seems unlikely they ever bought the Tauchnitz Villette, as the Heger family never reported that they had it in their possession, Still, it would have been the easiest way to find out what she had written, and also to see what was missing from the English version. Monsieur Heger did learn some English from Charlotte, and he could probably have understood the English text quite well.

It took until the end of the year before the La maitresse story was over. The last Revue Britannique installment was in the November edition, and shortly afterwards the third volumes of the book versions were published. The agony for the Hegers went on for almost the whole year. It appears that Villette was quickly forgotten in Brussels then, but the English and American visitors wouldn’t disappear. And their numbers would only increase in the next decades.

How?
Rebecca Harding-Davis, in 1906, in ‘The love story of Charlotte Brontë’ (Pensionnat revisited, p. 56) wrote that “the Heger family, I found, had long had a well-established and honorable position in Brussels. Their standing among their fellow-citizens was not affected by the esclandre which followed their connection with Miss Brontë, and which made them the subject of the world’s gossip.” The Hegers’ “feeling toward Charlotte was naturally extremely bitter. She had undoubtedly received constant and great kindness from their mother, and in return had held her up as “Madame Beck,” to the contempt of the world.” And, Villette“was, in fact, so accurate a description of her own life in the pensionnat that it drew the attention of the whole reading world to the little school in Brussels. Poor Madame Heger, to her amazement, was held up to universal scorn and contempt.

The novel, I learned in Brussels, produced great excitement in that community when it appeared – not because the grave conventional burghers gave a moment’s thought to Charlotte, her woes, or her brilliant powers, but because the book asserted that flirtations with outside lovers were possible to the jeunes demoiselles in the Heger pensionnat, and that audacious gallants could smuggle love-letters to their daughters under the very nose of Madame Heger. The school tottered to its foundations. But I was told “it was too securely grounded in the confidence of the court and gentry to fall. A paper was drawn up by many of the noble women in Belgium who had been educated by Madame Heger, testifying to their profound confidence and faith in her and in her institution”” (p. 58).

It is not easy to believe this account.
If Madame Heger was indeed “held up to universal scorn and contempt”, and had “the school tottered to its foundations,” we would have found more evidence of that. A paper, “drawn up by many of the noble women in Belgium” has never been found, and we have no idea to whom it would have been addressed. It would also have been rather un-Catholic. They would try to keep silent about it, and such a paper would only have drawn further attention to the novel.

Flirtations with outside lovers and smuggling love-letters are unlikely to bring down a school, let alone the renowned Pensionnat Heger-Parent. Smuggling things cannot even be prevented in prisons. It is equally impossible to prevent girls and boys from flirting. That makes it unlikely these were the causes of a scandal.  Harding-Davis wrote this more than 50 years after the supposed scandal. She doesn’t give sources. There’s almost nothing to support her view. It doesn’t make it a credible story. Still, it can’t be ruled out entirely.

It feels as if Villette only caused a ripple, in the big tide of daily events in a big European city of those days. Something will have happened, but we’ll most probably never know what exactly. It seems fair though to dismiss the idea of a big scandal.

The anonymous author of the 1890 article in The World (a London journal) said that “if her animadversions had had any substantial foundation, M. and Mme. Heger might long since have closed their shutters. As it is … the Pensionnat Heger continues to flourish like a green baytree. It has become the Mecca of American travellers” (PR, p. 68). In the next, and last article of this series there will be something more about the early popularity of Villette in America, including an article from 1858 by the first known visitor to the Pensionnat, after Mrs. Gaskell that is.

Eric Ruijssenaars

Villette in the US, or the story of the first American visitor to the Pensionnat in 1858

$
0
0
William Makepeace Thackeray was in the United States, for a lecturing tour, when Villette was published. He wrote about the novel in several letters, and, according to Winifred Gérin in her Charlotte biography, “the rage the book was enjoying among lady-readers over there.” A look in The Letters and private papersof William Makepeace Thackeray (volume 3, London, 1946) reveals however that there are only two references to the popularity of Villette in America. On 11 March 1853 he writes a letter in Charleston, to Lucy Baxter in New York City (pp. 232-3): “So you are all reading Villette to one another – a pretty amusement to be sure – I wish I was a hearing of you and a smoakin of a cigar the while. “ That remark was followed by his opinion of the novel. On 5 April he wrote from New York City to a Mrs. Mayne in London (p. 253): “Here the reign of novels is for a brief season, indeed, and “My novel” [by Edward Bulwer-Lytton] and “Villette,” have long since had the better of Mr. Esmond and his periwigged companions.”

It is certain that Villette was much more popular in America than it was in England. Smith, Elder & Co seem to have published just two editions of the novel in the 1850s. The second one was published in 1855. Harper & Brothers, from New York, published six editions in the 1850s. Apart from the two previously mentioned books of 1853 they also had an edition in 1855, 1856, 1857 and 1859. There is also an 1857 edition of Derby & Jackson from New York & Cincinnati.

The popularity of Villette in America is also reflected in what we know of the first Brontë visitors to the Pensionnat. The three first known visitors (after Mrs. Gaskell) are Americans.  One of these early visitors, Adeline Trafton, in 1871 (see below), who was there with friends, wrote about their introduction at the Pensionnat, having been let in by a teacher. “’We are a party of American girls,’ we said, ‘who, having learned to know and love Charlotte Brontë through her books, desire to see the garden of which she wrote in Villette.’ ‘Oh, certainly,’ was the gracious response.  ‘Americans often come to visit the school and the garden.’” The anonymous author of the 1890 article in The World wrote that the Pensionnat “has become the Mecca of American travellers. The average Britisher is content with worshipping at the shrine of the Waterloo ballroom, but the literary Yankee finds out Charlotte Brontë’s school, searches in vain for the Allée Défendue, and carries away a leaf from one of the giant pear trees. “

And Marion Harland, in 1898 quoted a Pensionnat teacher who had let her in: “So many English and Americans, many more Americans than English, come here every year, and talk, oh, so much! of Mlle. Lucie and Mme. Beck and Mlle. Charlotte, and the Ghost” (Promised land, pp. 59, 68 and 80).

The Americans will have been more inquisitive than the English too, one would suppose. It may also well be that the Americans were more welcome, as the article which follows here suggests. In it an American man is warmly welcomed by the Heger family in early 1858. The Pensionnat, it turns out, had at least one American pupil then.


The garden drawing in
'Vagabondizing in Belgium'
Vagabondizing in Belgium

There is one article written by someone who visited the Pensionnat that has hardly been seen by Brontëites. The anonymous author is the first known visitor after Mrs. Gaskell. The article, titled ‘Vagabondizing in Belgium,’ was published in August 1858, in Harper’s New Monthly Magazine (vol. 17, issue 99). This journal was published by Harper & Brothers. It’s only in the last two pages of the 14-page article that the account of the Pensionnat visit is given. The first page of the article has a lovely drawing of ‘Currer Bell’s pear-tree garden,’ made by the author.

The author set sail to Southampton on 31 October 1857, with just “thirty eight dollars and sixty cents” in his pocket. That surely accounts for the word vagabondizing. He states he has “many years” of vagabondizing experience. From England he first went to Paris, and then to Antwerp where he was at the beginning of December. On the 7th he went to Ghent, and a few days later to Brussels, because he needed money. He did a translation job, which was to make him “independent for a month or two.” He writes that it allowed him to make “frequent excursions into the country.” It’s the only job he seems to have done, so it would seem likely that by the end of February he will have left Belgium, and gone back to the United States. However, his drawing is not one of a winter garden. The trees are full in leaves. It looks more like May, or even later. This seems to be good evidence for him still being in Belgium in May.

He seems to suggest too that he had been received by the Belgian king. Although l’indépendance belge regularly wrote that “le Roi a reçu” certain persons, the newspaper didn’t report him meeting the author. Nor did it mention the American in any other way.

We have been able to identify this hitherto anonymous author. His name was Marshall Talbot. Under that name he published another (nicely illustrated) article in Harper’s New Monthly Magazine of March 1862, 'How the Dutch are taking Holland'. He says he wrote it in 1861, and in it he recalls when he was a school-boy, about 30 years ago. Genealogical research reveals he was born in New York City in 1822, and was still living there on the eve of his journey to Belgium. Talbot’s request for a passport gives this description of him: “Age 35, 6' tall, high forehead, blue eyes, long nose, ordinary mouth, grey hair, blonde complexion, face long, native of New York State.”

In 1861 and 1862 we find him in Brussels again, as an agent for the North in the American Civil War (1861-1865). They feared that France would join the war on the side of the southern Confederacy forces, who in order to retain slavery wanted to secede from the United States. Talbot tried to influence public opinion by having for instance favorable articles for the North published in l’indépendance belge.

By 1863 he was apparently back in America, near Des Moines, Iowa, where it is said he was an active local politician. He probably never married, and seems to have died in 1879, in Polk City, near Des Moines. On the internet there are a few references in which he is described as a “crayon portrait artist”, and also as a “strange genius” (without giving further explanation).

It is interesting that Madame Heger had no hesitation to meet him, whereas two years earlier she had refused to see Mrs. Gaskell. Later visitors also did not see Madame. Talbot wasn’t that interested in talking with the Hegers though. His main interest was to make the drawing of the garden. It couldn’t be seen from outside. It was easy therefore for Villette visitors to use the garden as an excuse for longing to see the Pensionnat. Monsieur Heger will have been pleased to see his garden being admired.

Talbot had a rather strange obsession for women. “For days I searched along the boulevards … but nowhere could my eye slight upon a beautiful woman.” He tried other places, but “even there I found no belles – none that would pass for belles in Baltimore.” At last he determined to try a school, and went to the Pensionnat.

It is also interesting that he liked the Flemish people much more than the French speaking Belgians, and that he spotted a lot of Spanish Belgians.


The last two pages of the article,
with the visit to the Pensionnat

The full article can be read here. Unfortunately no letters or diary appear to have survived that could give another account of his visit to the Pensionnat, if ever he wrote one at all.

Charlotte Forten Grimké (1837-1914), an Afro-American lady, wrote about the article in her diary (in The journals of Charlotte Forten Grimké, Oxford 1988, p. 330). She wrote on Wednesday, August 11 1858: “Sewed, read in “Harper’s” some beautifully written “Criticisms on Italy” and a very interesting paper by a genius Yankee, “Vagabondizing in Belgium.” Among a number of Brontë references in her diary we find that, on 1 October 1857 she, “after school read “Villette” and studied French.”

Adeline Trafton’s article, published in December 1871 in Scribner’s Monthly, is part of a Brussels chapter in her book of 1872, An American girl abroad. It also has a Belgian chapter, with visits to Waterloo, Antwerp and other places. Then she goes to Holland, Germany, Switzerland and back to Paris. A digitized copy of the book can be seen here (with the Pensionnat story beginning on page 115). Her group of girls feeling so excited to be at the Pensionnat (“We will only ask permission to see the garden”) illustrates well the early popularity of Villette in America, the country that kept the novel alive in the first decades after its publication.

The Americans have been doing very well in digitizing nineteenth century journals. No other articles have turned up in these. Perhaps something more can be found in American newspapers though, or diaries and letters collections. The story of Villette in the 1850s isn’t entirely finished research yet.

 Eric Ruijssenaars

With thanks to Brian Bracken for contributing research to this series.

Celebrating the bicentenary of Charlotte's birth

$
0
0
In the run up to the events celebrating the bicentenary of Charlotte's birth, we will be publishing a range of blogs written by our members and others to whet your appetite.

There is so much going on on the subject of Charlotte Bronte at the moment, that it is hard to find the time to follow everything but, if you have some time on your hands, here are some brief comments on a few things that I have seen that may be of interest to you.

First, both BBC Radio 4 and French radio have recently aired adaptations of Jane Eyre. Both are good and you can take your pick as to which language you prefer or try them both.

The links are as as follows:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b072s8rr/episodes/player

http://www.franceculture.fr/emissions/fictions-le-feuilleton/jane-eyre-110-episode-un

Then, if you would like something else to listen to, BBC Radio 3 recently ran a series of 15 minute episodes called "Yours sincerely, C Bronte" discussing  what some of Charlotte Bronte's letters reveal about her identity. These are all fascinating. In particular, Claire Harman gives two talks: one on Charlotte as a governess and the other about her time in Brussels and the famous letters to M Heger. Another of our past speakers, Lyndall Gordon shares her pleasure in Charlotte's correspondence with the Poet Laureate, Robert Southey, to whom Charlotte had sent some of her poems and who deemed it wise to quash her ambition. Charlotte's reply in which she says 'In the evenings, I confess I do think, but I never trouble anyone else with my thoughts' and ends 'I trust I shall nevermore feel ambitious to see my name in print; if the wish should arise, I'll look at Southey's letter, and suppress it' is a tour de force. The five episodes are available here:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b071l3kl/episodes/player

Lyndall Gordon also has an article, "Reader, I stalked him" in this month's New Statesman in which she reviews Claire Haman's biography "Charlotte Bronte, A Life"; "The Bronte Cabinet: Three Lives in Nine Objects" by Deborah Lutz, and "Reader I Married Him: Stories Inspired by Jane Eyre" edited by Tracy Chevalier". In this article, Lyndall Gordon writes that 'Brussels has emerged as as a current site of inspection' and she refers Eric Ruijssenar's book "Charlotte Bronte's  Promised Land" which she says was 'ably followed by Helen MacEwan with detailed topography and vivid detail about sleeping arrangements and food - pistolets for breakfast and pears from the garden cooked in wine - in "The Brontes in Brussels" (2014)'. Gordon also notes that 'MacEwan leads a vibrant Bronte society
in Brussels which offers tours of the sites ...".'

On the books in question, Gordon admires Harman's biography describing it as 'graceful, intelligent and meticulously researched' - the 'dominant story is about an obsession' that of Charlotte's for Monsieur Heger. Gordon notes that 'Brussels is again a crucial site for Deborah Lutz whose scrutiny of nine objects ... includes a chapter on the letters to M Heger'. Finally, Gordon describes the stories inspired by "Jane Eyre" as 'terrific' which speaks for itself!

http://www.newstatesman.com/culture/books/2016/03/reader-i-stalked-him-charlotte-bront-her-bicentenary-year

Of course there is plenty going on at Haworth which you can follow on the website as usual and the National Portrait Gallery in London has an interesting exhibition running until 14 August, when it transfers to New York, including items on loan from the Haworth Parsonage:

http://www.npg.org.uk/whatson/display/2016/celebrating-charlotte-bronte-1816-1855.php

And if you've seen all the usual stuff before, a more quirky homage to Bronte, which also includes some items on loan from the Parsonage, which has been curated by the artist Charlotte Cory can be found at the John Soane Museum:

http://www.soane.org/whats-on/exhibitions/charlotte-bront%C3%AB-soane

If you have heard or seen other interesting items about Charlotte Bronte, please share them with us. With so much going on, there is certainly no reason to be bored this April.

Dawn Robey

Charlotte Brontë - the most interesting author you’re not reading

$
0
0
This year you are likely to see lots and lots of posts about Charlotte Brontë appearing in your social media feeds and literary sections of various periodicals. This year especially, as the English-speaking world is celebrating the  bicentenary of her birth with remarkable zeal, including a conveniently published new biography you will see reviewed everywhere. Maybe her name will ring a bell, maybe it won’t, and maybe you will ask yourself why you should even bother reading any of the countless pieces about her. But before you do, reader, I hope you will believe me when I tell you: do not be discouraged by this ubiquity, I can sincerely assure you that for once, this is a writer who deserves all the buzz she is, and will be getting.

Charlotte’s life and work seem to possess endless layers of fascinating and complex topics. I am proclaiming this as a person who thought there could be nothing new to discover about Jane Eyre and was subsequently relieved of this presumptuous opinion. There is so much more to Jane than the first, the second or even the third reading can reveal.  And there is so much more to Charlotte herself than just being the author of that book, and the sister of two other writers. There is so much more to the Brontë family in general than the myth you might have been sold in a press feature or that high school textbook. With every new reading and every new discussion about these names and books I realize that there are still so many things to discover about them all, and that despite the passage of those two hundred years, their twisted, complicated selves are still eerily relevant.

Charlotte wrote from the heart, down from the deep recess of darkness and contradiction  that is a desperate longing for love, a burning sense of loneliness, a clash of self-worth and self-doubt. Do not be confused, she was more than certain of her own genius and superiority, but the buttoned-up Victorians were far from ready to accept the rugged passion of her writing and the brusque quickness of her mind. She was a demon woman, an infuriatingly real person in a time when member of her sex were expected to glide through life enveloped in soft lights of their halos, self-sacrificing, mild-mannered, silently pleasing ornaments with piously folded hands and chastely crossed legs.  She was judgmental, opinionated, dogmatic and entitled. She despised most of her pupils for not being smart enough, and most of the women in general for being feather-headed, capricious shells. She reveled in drama and despondency. But she also had enough ovum to solicit writing advice from two leading poets of the day, self-publish a collection of poems and make her first trip out of Yorkshire an 18-month course of French language and literature (and some unrequited love for a married man) in the foreign land of Brussels.

An incredibly talented and powerful writer, she made the private, repressed feelings of generations of women publically known; a persevering and resilient person, she picked herself up from heartbreak of unrequited love and bereavement of losing all of her five siblings; an enterprising and decided woman, she wrote herself out of a small village in Yorkshire to a publically recognized, best-selling author, despite unimpressive education and even less impressive possibilities available to women at the time. She wrote about love between obscure, flawed people, about negotiating and accepting one’s true nature, about loneliness and wonders of rare friendship, about the ups, downs and longings of the heart, the people and places she knew with no softening filter. Whether taking on the Woman Question, the masters and servants, the Luddites, the Belgians , the clergymen, the hollow women or the incorrigible rakes, she made them come alive with blunt, flavorful language and visual scenes. But she was also painfully aware of the stifling expectations the society had for her as a woman writer and she treaded carefully, constructing her public persona as that of a quiet, melancholy figure in grey, a plain –looking shadow keeping to herself, only revealing all that internal wealth to a chosen few.

For all the above reasons and even more, Charlotte Brontë is probably one the best and most interesting authors in the English language. After two centuries of Austen hegemony in the mainstream, I firmly believe she deserves her own year in the spotlight. Once you take a chance on this obscure, shadowy lady, you are bound to discover the red-blooded, full-bodied world she narrated from torrents of her conflicted heart onto the still, yellowish pages.  Hopefully, with the outburst of articles, reviews and discussions occasioned by the bicentenary, at least some readers will let themselves be seduced by that wonderfully idiosyncratic writer. So please go ahead, make yourself a cup of tea and Brontë on with a collection of posts on our blog.

Ola Podstawka

Finding Brontë in Brussels: reflections on literary tourism

$
0
0
In March 2014 I visited Brussels to carry out some preliminary research for a project on Charlotte Brontë and Brussels. The work came out of my book research on mobility in the Victorian novel, in which I look at Charlotte Brontë’s writing on travel to Europe in Villette and The Professor. This was coupled with a developing project on literary tourism, and I became interested in how and why “Brontë’s Brussels” as a tourist site has received so little critical attention from scholars, overshadowed as it is by the more famous Brontë location, the Parsonage at Haworth.

My Brussels trip formed the basis for extending and developing these ideas; I wanted to get a sense of how the locations informed the descriptive settings of Villette and The Professor and above all to learn more about how literary tourists, past and present, have forged their relationships to the city’s spaces through these texts.

Just as any self-respecting nineteenth-century tourist would head to Brussels armed with their Baedeker or Murray’s handbook to tour the sites, I set off armed with copies of Eric Ruijssenaars’s Charlotte Brontë’s Promised Land: The Pensionnat Heger and other Brontë places in Brussels and Helen MacEwan’s Down the Belliard Steps: Discovering the Brontë’s in Brussels, both invaluable guides for touring Brontë’s Brussels locations (1). (I also later took one of the walking tours run by the Brussels Brontë group, a highly enjoyable and very informative experience).

The Belliard Steps
(photo Charlotte Mathieson)
Tourists in search of Brussels’s Brontë sites date to not long after the publication of Charlotte Brontë’s Villette (1853): the earliest account in Ruijssenaars’ book is an 1871 piece by Adeline Trafton, originally published in an American periodical, Scribner’s Monthly. Trafton writes of how her group of American girls go in search of the Pensionnat, where they are told that “Americans often come to visit the school and the garden” (2). Other accounts show a similar international appeal of the site, while commenting that the British show little interest in the city itself, drawn instead towards the nearby site of Waterloo. The internationality of Brontë’s Brussels is still of course highly evident today: the Brussels Brontë group comprises many nationalities, mostly European, and in the discussion over dinner on one evening of my trip this provided interesting points of reflection on the importance of the Brontës in various national contexts.

In the nineteenth-century tourist accounts it is the Pensionnat Heger which forms the centre-point of literary tourist’s interests. The Pensionnat is the “Mecca”, as one describes it, a place of pilgrimage where spiritual connection to the sisters is sought, and where relics of the visit may be acquired: some tourists note taking a leaf from the pear-tree as a souvenir of their visit. Today, of course, little remains of the Pensionnat Heger and the Brontë tourist has to work hard to find and to see the city as the Brontës would have done. As I found, though, the experience is not only made easier by books such as Ruijssenaars’ and MacEwan’s, but is also richly rewarding. One can walk across the Park where Lucy Snowe follows Dr John’s tread on her first, lonely night in the city, and see the beautifully coloured bandstand, reminiscent of the carnival scenes later in Villette. Crossing the street there are the Belliard steps leading down into the courtyard of the Pensionnat, and around the corner the intriguing remains of the old Quartier, the Rue Teracken, descend below street level. Nearby is the Chappelle where Emily and Charlotte attended service, and the Cathedral where Charlotte (and then fictional Lucy) found herself one night, in the middle of the long summer vacation, making a confession to the priest.
Park Royal
(photo Charlotte Mathieson)
Unlike tourist sites such as Haworth, there is no central location for the tourist to fix upon. Instead, the whole area has to be experienced as part of a tour in which the tourist seeks out sites of meaning and maps them onto their own memories of Brontë’s writing. This is, though, a refreshingly different experience to being guided through a curated tourist site in which one is directed how to see the landscape; instead, the tourist draws on their imagination to craft a more individual, personal response.

This also led me to realise just how prominent this same feature is in the original tourists’ accounts, which privilege the walking tour around Brussels as an essential part of their journey. While the site of the Pensionnat is highly valued, all reach their destination by first following in the footsteps of Lucy Snowe – travelling, as I did, across the Park, down the Belliard steps, and into the courtyard. As they journey, they express excitement at how the landscape seems to unfold before them as if unfurling from the pages of Brontë’s writing: no map is needed, so vivid are their memories and so distinctly reminiscent of the books is the space in which they found themselves. “Brontë’s Brussels”, these tourists recognise, went beyond the Pensionnat into the surrounding city streets, and was distinctly captured in Charlotte’s writing: “the topography and local colouring of ‘Villette’ and ‘The Professor’ are as vivid and unmistakable as in the best work of Dickens himself”, wrote Theodore Wolfe in 1885 (3).

This attests to what I found was the enduring appeal of the area today; although no Pensionnat remains, there is much to appreciate in seeking out “Brontë’s Brussels” in the nearby area. One enthusiastic tourist from 1898 remarks “we are here because Brussels is Villette” and the Brontë tourist today, with a little imagination, will likewise find themselves in a landscape in which one can “see, with bodily vision, a locality familiar to the mind’s eye”.

Charlotte Mathieson

Charlotte Mathieson is a Teaching Fellow at Newcastle University’s School of English Literature, Language and Linguistics. She works on travel in novels by authors including Charlotte Brontë, Charles Dickens and George Eliot, and has published Mobility in the Victorian Novel: Placing the Nation (Palgrave Macmillan, 2015).


1. Eric Ruijssenaars, Charlotte Brontë’s Promised Land: The Pensionnat Heger and other Brontëplaces in Brussels (Keighley, West Yorkshire: The Brontë Society, 2000); Helen MacEwan, Down the Belliard Steps: Discovering the Brontës in Brussels (Hythe, Kent: Brussels Brontë Editions, 2012).

2. Adeline Trafton, “A Visit to Charlotte Brontë’s School at Brussels”, originally published in Scribner’s 
Monthly 3.2 (1871), pp. 186-89; see Ruijssenaars’s Charlotte Brontë’s Promised Land, p. 59.

3. Theodore Wolfe, “Scenes of Charlotte Brontë’s Life in Brussels”, originally published in Lippincott’s Magazine 36 (1885), pp. 542-48; see Charlotte Brontë’s Promised Land, p. 61.

The Brontës by Juliet Barker

$
0
0
I’ve never done more than one post about a single book (except read-alongs), but I’ll open an exception for this one. It’s not just because it’s probably the biggest book I’ve ever picked up, but I’m half-way through it and it’s fascinating enough to make me want to put some thoughts down. This is compulsory reading for anyone with an interest in the Brontës and don’t be intimidated by its size: it’s one of those books that just floooows.

Juliet Barker’s approach is that a reliable biography of each Brontë cannot be done in isolation, since their lives were too connected and they constantly inspired each other’s works. She’s also in the business of myth-busting.

It was especially enlightening to read this after Elizabeth Gaskell’s The Life of Charlotte Brontë. While Gaskell’s clear agenda was to give a sympathetic view of Charlotte and ease the shock the family’s books generated at the time, she did it by making certain sacrifices. Patrick and Branwell for instance, were not portrayed in the best of lights and it was clear Gaskell bent the truth to carry this argument.

The Life is responsible for many Brontë legends, namely “poor Charlotte” (the martyr daughter and saintly sister) and Emily as the romantic and wild free spirit. With The Brontës, Barker set out to defy these and other dogmas by diligently re-visiting all direct and indirect sources and re-accessing every established assumption.

My perception of Charlotte in particular changed from the “picture of perfection” image I had of her. I was spellbound by her struggle between her duty towards her family (a job she didn’t like and was bad) and the ever-present temptation of her imaginary worlds.

The Brontës & Axel the Cat, our temporary guest.
Photo by Andre
I discussed this book with other Brontë fans and some thought Barker was sometimes too set on thoroughness at the expensed of compelling story telling (the opposite of Mrs. Gaskell?). I didn’t feel that way, even though I admit to a few skims here and there. Baker’s very keen on describing several juvenilia characters and after a while it became too difficult to keep up with who killed, (de)crowned or married whom. Certain parts on the religious and political activism that took so much of Patrick’s time could also have used a little trimming, but the fact remains these were central events in the family’s lives.

Other myths Barker busted included the image of Haworth as an isolate, stagnated village, Branwell being an alcoholic from a very early age and Patrick as a severe and distant father. And we’re only talking about the first half of the book!

There was one debunking where I felt Barker went too far. The Brontë’s two elder sisters – Maria and Elizabeth – died of TB contracted in the boarding school Charlotte also attended. Charlotte was so traumatized by her time there as seen in Jane Eyre’s first chapters. Barker puts these experiences into perspective: Roe Head was bad, but not that bad compared to other schools and their mortality rates, malnutrition and aggressive daily routines were better than average. Somehow, perspective just doesn’t stick as a compelling argument in these cases. Better unhuman conditions are still unhuman conditions. The nightmare at Roe Head is one Brontë legend I can live with.
I’m just at the point in their lives where Charlotte and Emily arrive in Brussels. The voyeur in me is looking forward to Charlotte’s relationship with Mr. Heger, Branwell’s downfall and future literary disappointments

As I’ve mentioned in the first part, I don’t usually write multiple posts about a single book outside read-alongs. However, there’s just too much to explore in Juliet Barker’s The Brontës. It’s an amazing portrait of the family, and has deservingly become known as the biography for all of them. It’s the perfect choice for a brave bookclub like mine, who agreed to tackle this 900+ page mammoth.

The second half of the book starts right after Charlotte and Emily arrive in Brussels and begins her lessons with Monsieur Heger. Strangely enough, it’s not Charlotte’s falling desperately in love that’s the most interesting part of this period, but understanding the influence he had on her writing. He gave her focus and drive, and he encouraged her to write about what she knew. Charlotte’s journey from the enchanted world of Gondal to the almost autobiographical Jane Eyre is remarkably similar to the one made by two fictional characters with similar literary aspirations: Little Women’s Jo and Anne of Green Gables.

Emily on the other hand, didn’t let go of her juvenilia and seemed immune to Heger’s teachings:
Having spent most of her life at home, Emily had always been the one most dedicated to, and involved in, her imaginary world. There was no perceivable break between her Gondal writing and her novel; indeed it seems likely that she went straight from writing her long Gondal poem “The Prisoner”, to Wuthering Heights.
It’s also in this second half of the book that we get to see that the beginnings of some of the most famous novels in the English language. Fascinating stuff!

Something I didn’t know: Emily might have written a second book. Barker has very good arguments to support this as well as the theory that it was destroyed by Charlotte, to prevent another “coarse” novel to be published and further harm her sister’s reputation. As is normal with Brontë-related non-fiction, Charlotte takes center stage due to the amount material biographers have to work with. After the portrait of sainthood painted by Mrs. Gaskell in her version, it’s truly illuminating to finally see Charlotte in 3D, with all her weaknesses and inconsistencies. I’m not sure we would get along if we ever met, I’m afraid. I’m too outraged at the way she handled her sisters’ (especially Anne’s) work after their deaths. Her defense of their themes and writing style (they dared to actually using the word “damn”, instead of “d–“!) wasn’t very brave or true to their nature. She presented them as secluded virgins with an overwrought imagination who didn’t know what they were doing instead of, for instance, argumentation in favor of Anne’s moral and religious motivations for writing The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (can you tell I’m an Anne fan?). I also was shocked at how Charlotte heavily re-wrote  edited their poems, sometimes completely changing the original meaning.

I know Charlotte is considered ground-breaking in her writing, especially in Jane Eyre, but after reading most of the Brontë novels (only missing The Professor and Shirley), she strikes me as the most conventional of the three, the one who risked less. Even on the issue of governesses, Agnes Grey was much stronger in its realism and brutality.
This [women’s rights to work] was a subject to which Charlotte would return again and again, it being one of obvious  relevance to her own situation. One cannot  escape the conclusion that her intellectual engagement with the subject arose purely and simply as a  result of her own unhappiness. if she had been financially independent, “the condition of women”, would not have mattered to her.
But to give her credit, she did show great spirit at time, like her head-to-head with the great William Makepeace Thackeray, who she idolized but never the less receive a piece of her mind when he deserved it.

Barker’s description of the dramatic moments of the family’s deaths were the first time a non-fiction book made me cry. Anne’s death in particular was hard to read because we not only have Charlotte’s description, but also that of Ellen Nussey, an intimate family friend.

It was Ellen, together with Mrs. Gaskell and Charlotte’s friend and publisher George Smith, that made my blood boil in the book’s last chapters. Barker does a wonderful job of piecing together the creation of The Life of Charlotte Brontë, which became the beginning of what Lucasta Miller described as “the Brontë myth”. The three of them did Charlotte a great injustice, not only with the border-line-illegal ways used to gather materials, but especially in the portrayal her family, which would be the accepted version for centuries to come: “poor Charlotte”; not-of-this-world Emily; Branwell, the black-sheep; Patrick, the distant and harsh father; Arthur the domineering husband.

Also, next time someone argues that the media’s exploitation of the personal life of celebrities is a modern phenomenon, I’ll have to gently disagree, after reading about what happened after Charlotte’s death.

Barker has clearly set out to de-bunk most of the Brontë myths and has done a great job of it. It’s almost an historical moment to see their true characters finally starting to surface, after all this time.

Alexandra Reis
The Sleepless Reader



Charlotte Brontë and the BMI

$
0
0
There is a very funny scene in Charlotte Brontë's novel Villette where Lucy Snowe visits the art museum and confronts a painting titled ``Cleopatra.'' Before she is shuffled off by M. Paul Emanuel to ``a particularly dull corner'' to view a dreary series called ``La vie d'une femme'', Lucy has a good look at the Rubenesque Cleopatra.

This is possibly the painting that Lucy Snow saw!
She does not look that big though!
The lounging woman in the painting looks ``considerably larger ... than the life,'' thinks Lucy, who wonders at her ``breadth and height, that wealth of muscle, that affluence of flesh.'' Lucy calculates that Cleopatra ``would infallibly turn from fourteen to sixteen stone.'' That's about 90-100 kilograms or around 200 pounds!

Charlotte based the description on a real painting (by a now forgotten artist) that she had seen in 1842 in Brussels. Did she realize that she could have used a fairly recent Belgian innovation to help her calculate the Cleopatra's ``affluence of flesh''? Ghent-born Adolphe Quetelet in the 1830s developed an index to classify a person's weight relative to an ideal scale. Called the Quetelet Index, his method is still used today, though it was renamed the Body Mass Index (BMI) in the 1970s.

Adolphe Quetelet
Quetelet was a mathematician, astronomer, statistician and sociologist known for using statistics in the study of social phenomena. He founded the Royal Observatory in Brussels in 1828, served as secretary of the Belgian Royal Academy (1834–74), and organized the first International Statistical Congress, in 1853. His statue stands in the grounds of the Palais des Académies, near the Royal Palace and the Parc de Bruxelles, the park where Lucy Snowe finds herself a couple of times in the course of Villette.

Charlotte could have seen Quetelet during her time in Brussels. She might have passed him on the street or in the park. She could have read about him in the newspaper, or heard about one of his periodic lectures. While she may not have thought about the Quetelet Index while in Belgium, Charlotte did show an interest in astronomy during her stay -- an interest that may have developed in discussions with Professor Heger at the Pensionnat.

In one of her homework assignments for M. Heger -- a devoir titled ``The Immensity of God'' written in 1842 -- Charlotte starts out with a focus on the Deity but shifts to a scientific perspective. She name-drops seventeenth-century Dutch astronomer Christiaan Huygens (though not Quetelet), and refers to the telescope and the science of optics.

I wonder what Quetelet made of the Cleopatra? She probably would have surpassed 30 on his index, in the obese range -- the opposite end from petite Charlotte. As Lucy Snowe says: ``She was, indeed, extremely well fed …''

Jones
_ _ _ _ _

Sources: Charlotte Brontë: The Evolution of Genius by Winifried Gerin; The Belgian Essays edited by Sue Lonoff; Encyclopaedia Britannica; Brussels for Pleasure by Derek Blyth.

France as Other: Charlotte Bronte’s Divided Response to Francophone Culture

$
0
0
Throughout Charlotte Bronte’s life and works, France and the French language and culture occupied a prominent place in her mental landscape.  It is, however, a conflicted place.  On the one hand, she almost revered the French language, seeing it not only as an employment asset and hence a route out of provincial stagnation, but also as a sign of personal cultivation.  On the other hand, France was home to at least three social phenomena which are demonised in her work: the Catholic Church, a lax attitude to sexuality, and a pettifogging system of domestic surveillance.  Charlotte’s image of France was thus constructed as ‘other’ to English culture in two opposite senses: as the object of desire and as the locus of fear and loathing.  A refinement of this effect is that the desirable qualities tend to be associated with men, while the disgust and hatred are centred on women.

This statement is a generalisation, but it is drawn from well-known aspects of Charlotte’s life and works.  It was almost certainly Charlotte who devised the plan to go to Brussels with Emily to perfect their French and German and it was her energy and determination that carried it through.  After her stay in Brussels, Charlotte is particularly pleased to receive books in French from her friend William Smith Williams, and for a while tells him that she learns by heart a passage in French every day.  In Jane Eyre, Charlotte represents Jane as feeling quiet satisfaction in her ability to reply to her French pupil, Adèle, in her own language; it is a sign that she is in touch with ‘culture’ in its larger sense. The Yorke family in Shirley (based on the family of Charlotte’s friend Mary Taylor) are admired for their easy familiarity with French culture, which stands as a sign of larger travels, and speculative, interesting minds ready to debate politics and philosophy.  In Villette, it is M Paul Emanuel who represents the widening of horizons, the stretching of the mind, which Lucy prizes above comfort and security.

Some of Charlotte’s fervour and nostalgia for the French language after Brussels could, of course, be attributed to her hopeless love for her French teacher, M Heger.  It is no accident that all of her fictional heroes are French-speaking; Robert and Louis Moore and M Paul Emanuel are native speakers, William Crimsworth teaches in French, and even Mr Rochester has lived in Paris and understands French well.  Charlotte’s predisposition to admire the French language, however, may have predisposed her to fall in love with its speakers.  In any case, there seems no doubt that Charlotte Bronte constructed the sign ‘France’ as an ‘other’ in the sense of an object of desire.

On the other hand, France was the home of some of her most loathed cultural attributes.
 Rochester’s tale of debauchery centres on a French courtesan, Céline, in Paris, and when Jane congratulates herself on having escaped life as a ‘kept mistress’, she imagines it taking place in Marseille.  In Shirley Hortense Moore stands for everything that is pernickety and soul-destroying in domesticity.  While Hortense tortures Caroline with intricate stocking-darning and drawer-tidying, Mme Beck in Villette keeps her pupils under control by means of a sly system of surveillance which irks Lucy’s British and freedom-loving soul.  Also in Villette, Lucy encounters the insidious power of the Catholic Church, in the scene where she is drawn by desperate loneliness to undergo confession, in the legend of the nun who was walled up alive for a sin of the flesh, and in the story of M Paul’s sad ward, Justine Marie.

One intriguing aspect of this topic which I invite others to explore is that Emily, who shared much of Charlotte’s reading and her experiences in Brussels, does not show any such effect in her work.  Although Emily also spoke French and German, and both sisters wrote essays, at M Heger’s behest, in imitation of renowned French stylists, there is no system of reference in Emily’s work suggesting that these cultures were superior to British culture or that an English writer had anything to learn from them.  Nor, on the other hand, does she demonstrate any xenophobic paranoia.  Yet commentators on the Belgian devoirs have shown that Emily engaged more closely than Charlotte with the philosophical ideas contained in the essays set up for imitation, and Stevie Davies in particular has argued that Emily was the real intellectual of the family, absorbing European ideas ranging from musical style to scientific theories.

My question, therefore, is why, in Charlotte’s work, France is flaunted as an ‘other’ characterised by opposite extremes, while in Emily’s work the perhaps more profound influence of French ideas appears to be assimilated to the point of invisibility.

Patsy Stoneman

To my sister - a poem

$
0
0
To prepare for the bicentenary of Charlotte's birth, we asked members whether they would like to contribute to the blog during this special period.  We are pleased to present one of our Dutch members, Louise van Proosdij, who is also a member of the Brontë society. Her contribution is a poem named To my sister. It  is not only creative but reflects the form that, some argue, came most naturally to the Brontes: poetry.


To my sister

Jane and I have always been together.
She guided me during my whole life.
Her strong and independent character
was a great help for me, in times of stormy weather.

I thank this to her mother Charlotte,
who was so gifted and so strong.
Her spirit is still there in Haworth.
I felt it of them all, they came along:

I saw her father, mother and her brother.
They were still young, holding each other's hand.
And all the girls, looking very cheerful,
dancing with each other in that lovely land.

Of course I also know the tragedy.
The crows who live there cried out in my ear :
“They all suffered cruely, died very young.
We know it's hurting you to hear”.

 Once I walked along the graveyard very late and woke up the crows who were asleep.
The eldest said to me : “Always remember this fantastic family “.
The youngest whispered : “Look well after what they have left us “.
 “ I will “.

Louise van Proosdij

Juliet Barker in Brussels for the Charlotte Brontë bicentenary: 16 April 2016

$
0
0
Juliet Barker’s eagerly-awaited talk in Brussels, over our weekend of events to celebrate the Charlotte Brontë bicentenary, took place against the backdrop of travel disruption following the attacks of 22 March. With flights cancelled or deviated, the weeks leading up to 16 April were anxious ones and the news of a Belgian air traffic controllers’ strike shortly before she was due to fly seemed the last straw. But she made it to beleaguered Brussels Airport, all the way from her home in North Yorkshire.

The main focus of her talk was The things Gaskell left out of her Life of Charlotte Brontë. Over dinner the evening before the talk, Juliet expressed admiration for Mrs Gaskell as a novelist, but her talk made it clear that she has a few bones to pick with Gaskell the biographer. In Barker’s view, the problem with Gaskell’s Life is that it is a fiction rather than a truthful biography.


She began with a reference to an article published in Sharpe’s London Magazine in June 1855, shortly after Charlotte’s death, that deeply upset her friend Ellen Nussey. Called ‘A few words about Jane Eyre’, it revived many of the rumours about Currer Bell that circulated when that novel was published. It contained not just accusations of Charlotte’s impropriety and ‘coarseness’ but accusations against her father, claiming that he had neglected his children and left their education to servants. Nussey was so incensed by the article she asked Mrs Gaskell to mount a defence of Charlotte. Yet ironically, as Barker pointed out, the original source for much of the information in the article was Gaskell herself. It was taken from letters written by her the Lake District shortly after her first meeting with Charlotte, based on spiteful gossip by a disgruntled former employee of the Brontës.

When she embarked on her biography, Mrs Gaskell herself admitted how hard it was for a novelist to be strictly truthful (‘You have to be accurate and keep to facts; a most difficult thing for a writer of fiction’). Barker’s claim is that Mrs Gaskell in fact had no intention of being objective and impartial. Her objective was to defend and vindicate Charlotte as a woman and writer and, in the process, facts were distorted or suppressed; what she omitted was as important as what she included.

Barker started with Gaskell’s description of Haworth, using contemporary sources to demonstrate how far removed the real village and its inhabitants were from the remote spot and wild, lawless community depicted by Gaskell on the basis of sources 100 years out of date. Not only is Haworth a mere four miles from Keighley, but when the Brontës lived there it was a hive of industrial and cultural activity. Far from being a cultural desert, it had an abundance of concerts as well as textile mills, and the Brontës were involved in village life.

Barker then referred to the Brontë juvenilia, pointing out that the sense of fun and the relish for violence and debauchery that overflow from its pages are at odds with the picture of the young Brontës’ oppressed and deprived childhood painted in Gaskell’s Life.

Turning to Charlotte herself, Barker claimed that in portraying her as a martyr whose sense of duty predominated, Gaskell suppressed many facets of her character. Among these were her hatred of teaching and of her pupils and her rebellion against the restrictions of her life, as revealed in the journal she kept at the Roe Head school.

Barker devoted a large section of her talk to Charlotte’s time in Brussels, since one of Gaskell’s most important omissions was Charlotte’s feelings for Constantin Heger. Revealing her love for a married man would have given credence to the notion of her moral laxity both as a writer and – some reviewers suggested – a woman.

Gaskell’s use of Charlotte’s letters from Brussels and, later, to Heger exemplified her cavalier attitude to documentary sources. Gaskell quoted from these letters very selectively, omitting Charlotte’s account of her confession in the Cathedral and her more emotional appeals to Heger. She gave the impression that Monsieur and Madame Heger acted in unison with regard to Charlotte, claiming that it was Madame’s idea to send one of the Heger children to be educated by the Brontës in Haworth even though Charlotte recorded that the idea came from Monsieur but was vetoed by his wife. She distorted the facts to account for the estrangement between Charlotte and Zoë Heger, attributing it to differences over religion even though Heger was just as devout as his wife. Charlotte’s growing unhappiness in Brussels is attributed by Gaskell to her concerns about Branwell, though these belonged to a later date after Branwell was dismissed from his post with the Robinsons.

Gaskell succeeded in her aim of establishing Charlotte’s reputation as a woman and gained a reputation herself as a great biographer. But despite Patrick Brontë’s tribute to the Life as ‘in every way worthy of what one great woman should have written of another’, the storm of protests from Mrs Robinson and others who believed themselves maligned in the book left Gaskell feeling ‘battered and bruised’, Barker said, determined never to write another biography and to confine herself in future to the safer realm of fiction.

Juliet Barker’s talk was followed by a rewarding and wide-ranging question and answer session in which she took the opportunity to defend Patrick and Branwell Brontë, with both of whom she believes Gaskell dealt unfairly. Patrick was an inspiring teacher of his children and Barker pointed out the similarity between his methods and Heger. He would get the children to read articles and then talk and write about them. Instead of rote learning they were encouraged to think for themselves and become passionately involved in what they learned.

Barker also views Branwell as an inspirational force, claiming he was always ahead of his sisters creatively. He was innovative and the first to get published (he had a poem published in a local paper). It was his idea to write novels rather than poems to make it easier to find publishers. In Barker’s view his achievement was less than his sisters’ not just because he lacked their application but because of the sheer diversity of his talents.

Barker also defended Arthur Nicholls, charging Gaskell with revealing too much about Charlotte’s initial rejection of him and being influenced against him by Ellen Nussey. Barker’s verdict is that in her concern to protect Charlotte’s reputation, Gaskell did not scruple to damage that of the three men closest to her.

Helen MacEwan

Committee members of the Brussels Brontë Group with Juliet Barker.
From left to right, Dawn Robey, Jones Hayden, Helen MacEwan,
Juliet Barker and Lisbeth Ekelof.


An evening with Charlotte Brontë

$
0
0
Our Brontë day on Saturday 16 April was rounded off by an evening of readings from Charlotte Brontë’s novels and letters in the Auderghem Cultural Centre. The readers were members of the Brussels Shakespeare Society, directed by Tracie Ryan, who also chose the readings and wrote the account of Charlotte’s life narrated in the first person by Deborah Griffiths. The readings were given by Charles White, Miranda Ryan White, Kendra Doherty, Jonathan Sawdon, Robynn Colwell and Graham Andrews. We heard from Mr Brocklehurst, the young Jane Eyre and her friend Helen Burns. There was plenty of emphasis on Charlotte’s stay in Brussels, with extracts from Villette and Charlotte’s letters home from the Pensionnat. We heard some of the comments written by Constantin Heger on Charlotte’s devoirs, and were introduced to his alter ego in Villette, M. Paul.


Deborah Griffiths as Charlotte

Miranda Ryan White as Jane Eyre, Kendra Doherty as Helen Burns
and Deborah Griffiths as Charlotte.

Jane Eyre and Helen Burns.

Jonathan Sawdon, Graham Andrews and Robynn Colwell

Graham Andrews

“Solitude in the midst of numbers” –on loneliness in Brussels

$
0
0
Among the obscure, plain heroines created by Charlotte Brontë, none is as autobiographical as Lucy Snowe of Villette, and none is as utterly lonely. Reserved and secretive, she deliberately keeps her distance both as a narrator and character in her own story, as if she wanted to prevent anyone getting a glimpse of her true feelings. Much like Charlotte during her second stay in Brussels, she is a solitary figure in Mme Beck’s pensionnat, rejecting the company of teachers and pupils, but at the same time longing for true friendship, one that provides a sense of safety and belonging. Both Lucy and Charlotte would be eventually overpowered by the loneliness in Villette / Brussels, but what makes their common story so extraordinary is that they would not let it destroy them completely: they would reclaim their lives and turn their time in the city into something fruitful.

Charlotte’s real-life relationship with loneliness seems ambiguous at best. As a young teacher at the Roe Head school, she would deliberately drift off into a solitary state, closing her eyes on the reality crowded with pupils, and step over to an imaginary world. She wrote most of Jane Eyre in isolation, too, overseeing her father’s recovery from surgery in half-darkness. In those instances, calm and solitude would usher in creativity. But there is also a different, hostile kind of loneliness resulting from a painful conviction of being different and misunderstood. The worst kind of loneliness, possibly, which cannot be remedied in company, but could even be exacerbated if the people present are of the alien kind. For the most part of her life, Charlotte would complain about not being like others, referring to the passionate storms tearing at her soul and thunderous ambition pushing her beyond the prescribed domestic existence. This forcible alienation and lack of understanding  were difficult in themselves, but also carried another threat, possibly the most feared by Charlotte – monotony and inaction, characteristic of the passive life of old maids in her novels. This dichotomy of solitudes is expressed in the first letter to Monsieur Héger from Haworth. In the relative seclusion of the Parsonage, she writes, “one’s brain is always active – one longs to be busy”, which is why she draws up plans for setting up the Brontë school for young ladies and envisages writing a great novel to impress her Master. But later in the same letter, she confesses that she “fear[s] nothing so much as idleness – lack of employment – inertia – lethargy of the faculties – when the body is idle, the spirit suffers cruelly” (Selected Letters 51).


The oppressive, frustrating loneliness seems to have followed Charlotte in all her teaching engagements. She collapsed in spirit and health at Roe Head over Easter break of 1838, later reminiscing about that episode in most disturbing words: “I can never forget the concentrated anguish of certain insufferable moments and the heavy gloom of many long hours, besides the preternatural horrors which seemed to clothe existence, and nature which made life a continual walking nightmare” (Barker 336). She parted with both families where she served as governess when the monotony of that shadow life and lack of common ground with her employers became impossible to bear any further. Finally, and perhaps most acutely, she suffered from misunderstood loneliness in Brussels, her Promised Land.

In the early days at the pensionnat shared with Emily, she claimed to be happy, constantly occupied, and referring to Brussels as a beautiful city. And yet, in the first letter to her best friend Ellen Nussey she complained that “the difference in country and religion makes a broad line of demarcation between us and all the rest, we are completely isolated in the midst of numbers (Selected Letters 36)”. That feeling of alienation in a crowd would remain with her throughout, accompanied by occasional pangs of homesickness, eventually growing unbearable. During her second, independent visit, she continued proudly estranged from the phlegmatic, Catholic pupils and teachers, but the isolation lost most of its haughty self-sufficiency. Charlotte was there without Emily at her side, with Monsieur’s friendship dwindling, and her English acquaintances in the city moving away or travelling, and she found herself more and more alone. She referred to her life at the school as an “easeful, stagnant, silent life”, which would prompt her to retreat into the musings of Angria (Selected Letters 41-2), the first sign of incumbent atrophy of spirit.

In the summer vacation on 1843, already in low spirits, she found herself completely alone not only on school premises, but in the entire populous city of Brussels. To escape the empty, stuffy schoolrooms, she would spend hours walking along the narrow streets, through the broad boulevards and out into the surrounding countryside, accompanied only by her own thoughts. In those thoughts, she would reach back towards Haworth, relating to Ellen Nussey: “It is a curious position to be so utterly solitary in the midst of numbers – sometimes this solitude oppresses me to an excess” (Selected Letters 45). It is in this desolate frame of mind that she yielded to the call of church bells and strayed into Catholic confession. That estival solitude proved unbearable, and the situation did not seem to promise any improvement, she eventually left the school and the city for good at the end of the same year. The disappointment and estrangement from her professor kept her despondent and heartbroken for a while, but back in the familiarity of Haworth, close to her friends and family, she managed to muster enough willpower to turn them into productivity, yielding The Professor and, later, Jane Eyre. However, the pangs of depression and hypochondria would accompany her like faithful followers, and they came back with new vigor right about the time when Charlotte was working on Villette.

The period between publishing Shirley in 1849 and marrying Arthur Bell Nicholls in 1854 was allegedly one of the most miserable in her life, still plagued with bereavement and loneliness after losing her siblings (which made writing the last novel especially painful, with no one to turn to for opinion and support), disappointed in George Smith’s shallow, platonic interests and unsure of the future. This is when she wrote to Ellen Nussey: “The evils that now and then wring a groan from my heart – lie in position – not that I am a single woman and likely to remain a single woman – but because I am a lonely woman and likely to be lonely” (Selected Letters 207). Lyndall Gordon suggests that this prolonged period of low spirits inspired not only the return to the memories of depression and psychosomatic illness in Brussels, but informed the entire conception of Villette as a story of a woman growing out of passivity through the survival of budding desires and maturing heartbreak (253).

Indeed, Lucy Snowe’s decline during her first summer vacation in the deserted school seems to reflect the experiences from the Pensionnat Héger faithfully. While Charlotte was able to turn to her understanding siblings and friends through letters, and finally gather her things and come back to the familiar land, her orphaned heroine is deprived of any support system, and consequently descends into a malignant fever. She spends eight weeks of summer turbulently shifting into fall trapped in the ghostly corridors, dwelling on “miserable longings” in the “vast and void” house, with a servant and a “crétin” student for only company. Without the sustenance of daily occupations, however tedious, she has to feel trapped in the stagnant air of the walled-up school. In this fragile state even the change in the weather weighs heavily on her shoulders, with rains and tempests amplifying the strain and oppression of her situation in a truly gothic manner. She describes tearful outbursts, depressive inertia, bouts of desperate praying and even thoughts of death haunting these lonely hours.

Perhaps an even more crippling effect is brought on by the perpetuity of Lucy’s condition: to a young woman of no fortune, no friends or no particular accomplishments at that time in history, visions of the future cannot offer any solace or promise of a delayed reward, and she forms a conviction that hers is to be a life of perpetual suffering. Always severe with herself, Lucy seems to willingly discard any comforting thoughts for fear of entertaining foolish daydreams. She prefers crushing her spirit rather than indulging in escapism even for a moment: she “dared not give such guests lodging, so mortally did [she] fear the sin and weakness of presumption” (Villette 183).  She seems to lose not only hope and health, but as a consequence, also some of the self-inflicted detachment, revealing to the readers the depths of the lonely pain she has been carrying around with growing difficulty.

Once the student left in her care is removed from the pensionnat, Lucy proceeds to mortify not only her soul, but also the flesh: she ventures further and further into the city, driven by a feverish restlessness and search for occupation and companionship, even that of chance passersby. She forgoes nourishment in her endless walks, in a morbid parallel to the spiritual starvation that consumes her. She walks aimlessly, for hours on end, nurturing visions of that happiness experienced by other inmates of the pensionnat with their friends and families, sheltered from loneliness and free to enjoy life’s wonders, while she is left wishing to cure the inconsolable hollowness of existence through death. Eventually she makes herself physically ill, inducing a psychosomatic delirium. She becomes a prisoner of her own bed “in a strange fever of the nerves and blood” (186), going back and forth between fretful insomnia and draining nightmares. At the end she also strays into a Catholic confessional, without any guilty secret to divulge, or conscience to appease, but with a thirst for human contact which she thus quenches: “the mere pouring out of some portion of (…) pain (…) had done me good. I was already solaced” (Villette 189). Having relieved her soul, she walks out into a stormy night and yields to bodily weakness, fainting into a black abyss.

With this crisis of faith and health Lucy concludes her narration in Volume 1 of the novel, as if drawing a curtain over the solitary part of her life, spent friendless and miserable, still oblivious of her true capacity and strength.  From that moment on, she recovers gradually in the warm attention of old friends from Bretton, and moves closer to self-assertion, through the rise and fall of love for Dr. John and the evolving friendship with Monsieur Paul Emmanuel.

In all fairness, being prone to melancholy and isolation, Charlotte and Lucy probably brought their respective crises onto themselves, indulging these propensities long enough to cross the thin line between the comfort of introverted solitude and the strain of depressive loneliness. But the quiet and still rooms of the Pensionnat Héger or the school at Roe Head were not the only forlorn places at that time: they were just a bleak mirror for Charlotte’s and Lucy’s spiritual landscapes, arrested in hopelessness and stagnation with no signs for change in the foreseeable future. The passages of desolation and despair undoubtedly confirm how close Charlotte’s characters were to herself in character and experience, and how vividly she was able to convey real-life emotions and events. But even more importantly, they contribute to the overall conclusion that Lucy, like the other heroine and like Charlotte herself, did not conform to the pattern of feminine passivity and resignation. Instead, they all resisted and persevered. They faltered under the burden of adversity, undermined by physical weakness, slowed down by despondency, limited by social conventions and heavily tried by ruthless Providence, but always endured in the end and resumed their journeys towards growth and action. Heartbroken and bereaved, Charlotte rose from depression into creative activity many times in her life, and infused Lucy with the same strength to recover from her real or imagined illness with the support of the Bretton friendship and move on to greater things: loving a great man and running her own school. They both lived on and grew, survivors and women in progress.

Aleksandra Podstawka

Works Cited:
Barker, Juliet. The Brontës. London: Abacus, 2010. Print. 
Brontë, Charlotte. Villette. London: Penguin Books (Penguin English Library), 2012. Print. 
Brontë, Charlotte, and Margaret Smith.Selected Letters of Charlotte Brontë. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. Print.
Gordon, Lyndall. Charlotte Brontë: A Passionate Life. London: Vintage Random House, 1995. Print.


A bit more about Villette translations and revenge

$
0
0
Recently a series of articles centering around the early translations of Villette was published on this blog. But much more can be written about translations of this novel after 1860, in many other languages, and about translations of Charlotte Brontë’s other Brussels novel, The Professor. So far I have found 27 languages into which Villette was translated. There will be some more.

Here for instance is a Chinese Villette. Only recently I found this in the collection of Leiden University Library, with this fascinating catalog card description:
洛雪小姐遊學記
Title: Luoxue xiao jie you xue ji
Author/Creator: Brontë, Charlotte 1816-1855
伍光建; Wu, Guangjian
Description: Note: Translation of: Villette.
Related Titles: Series: 人人文庫 Renren wenku
Edition: 臺1版.; Tai 1 ban..
Publisher: Taibei : Taiwan shang wu yin shu guan; 臺北 : 臺灣商務印書館
Date: [Minguo 60 [1971]
Form: 2 volumes in 1 (2,4,1,300 pages) ; 18 cm.
Language: Chinese
 I rushed to the Library and found this book:

Cover page of the 1971 Taiwanese Villette 


Back page of the 1971 Taiwanese Villette

(Jane Eyre in this series was published six years later, in 1977 (Minguo 66), as:
ï  孤女飄零記
ï  Title: Gu nü piao ling ji.)

A measure of greatness is the number of languages a novel  has been translated into. But it seems no research has been done for Brontë translations. Wikipedia has a list of the most translated works. It goes down to books with a minimum of 28 languages, but it does not have a single Brontë work. Yet, Jane Eyre has at least 32 languages, and probably quite a few more. Wuthering Heights surely also has more than 30, and Villette will surely have at least 28.  This aspect of their novels makes it also interesting for bibliographical reasons, and for book collectors of course.


About half of the known translation languages editions of Villette were only published in the last 25 years. It is noteworthy that this coincides with the renewed interest in the history of the Brontës and Brussels. Nowadays it is difficult to imagine, but only thirty years ago there was no interest at all in Villette, let alone Brussels. Well, this was not the case everywhere. The novel seems to have been really popular in Yugoslavia in the 1970s especially, with two translations, each with a number of editions.

Finding translations is in itself quite easy. A look at the catalogs of the National (or Royal) Libraries, and one or two university libraries per country suffices. Apart from that it can be interesting to know more about the translator. Quite often a picture of the cover page can be found on the internet. That in itself is a nice collection.

Research is made easier by Google translate. I could do Europe quite well, but it gets difficult beyond that, in Asia and Africa. So I hope that there are volunteers to help with this quest. We have a lot of nationalities and native languages in the Brussels Brontë Group. Members may also have  a copy of a translation. In some cases it should be possible to get in contact with the translator. It would be interesting to hear how they came to it. A quite large number of them have translated more than one Brontë novel. I have already gathered quite a lot of information, but much more research is needed, to cover all languages.  It seems there are only two published articles about translations, related to Russia and China (apart from my recent blog series).

There are languages that appear to have no Villette translation: Welsh, Icelandic, Estonian, Albanese, Armenian, Georgian, Indonesian and Esperanto. Five of these eight languages do have a Jane Eyre. I suppose The Professor may get to 20 languages, but I’ve hardly touched on that novel in a systematic way. Anne Brontë’s novels will about equal Villette, I presume, in the number of languages.

It is also interesting to learn about some countries without a language of their own, like Switzerland. Its ‘native’ language Reto-Roman hasn’t  produced a translation, but nevertheless a quite nice story can be told, as I hope to show later. But first there will be an article about Villette and The Professor in Dutch.

Revenge

Not many people yet have voted in the poll about the revenge question. I would like to thank all who did. One other option came up. It is possible that Charlotte thought or spoke the words – “Je me vengerai” – when parting from Madame Heger, and that Villette was not a revenge novel. This theory was put forward by a good friend of mine who, inspired by my series of articles, read Villette and The Professor, and said he found few traces of a revenge theme.

So far the thought theory is in the lead, with about 40% of the votes. It’s the option in which Charlotte thought the revenge words. So far there are large majorities for her either thinking or saying the words, and for Villette being (partly) a revenge novel. More votes are welcome and needed though.


Eric Ruijssenaars

Brussels Brontë Group members in Haworth for the annual Brontë Society Summer Festival (11-12 June)

$
0
0
This year, seven members of the Brussels Brontë Group made their way to Haworth for the annual Brontë Society ‘Summer Festival’ (weekend of events and AGM). Most of us arrived just too late to see the shops in Main Street transformed by 19th century shop fronts for the filming of ‘To Walk Invisible’, a BBC TV drama about the Brontës’ lives by the Yorkshire writer Sally Wainwright, to be broadcast in December. Filming in Haworth finished on the Thursday. We were, however, able to walk across the moors to Penistone Hill to view the replica of the Parsonage built for the filming. The wooden Parsonage resembles the building as it looked in the 1840s, without the Victorian wing added later in the century. Replicas have also been built of the nearby buildings as they were in the period.

The film set on the moors
The replica Parsonage

This is of course the Charlotte Brontë bicentenary year and there was plenty of excitement at the real Parsonage too. At a special private viewing for Society members, we were able to inspect the exhibition ‘Charlotte Brontë Great and Small’ curated by the novelist Tracy Chevalier. A selection of small artefacts (tiny books, Charlotte’s child-sized clothes....) are contrasted with her big ambitions. In other rooms, visitors can view miniature objects such as a small bed with quilts embroidered with texts from the Brontës’ works, and a knitted scene from Jane Eyre! In addition, at a fund-raising event called ‘Hidden Gems’, a group of members had the opportunity to view a selection of ‘gems’ from the Museum’s collection.


We attended a talk about a new history of the Withins Farms by Steve Woods and Peter Brears, who also led a (rather wet) walk over the moors to Top Withins. The annual lecture was given by Claire Harman, author of a new biography of Charlotte Brontë, who spoke to our group in Brussels in April 2015. A highlight of the weekend was The Great Charlotte Brontë Debate on the Saturday evening, in which four distinguished women writers debated whether Charlotte’s greatest novel was Jane Eyre or Villette. Claire Harman and Joanne Harris argued for Jane Eyre, Lucy Hughes-Hallett and Katherine Langrish for Villette, chaired by Tracy Chevalier. Readings from the two novels were given by the actress Maxine Peake. For a fuller account of the debate see the report on the Brontë Parsonage Blog.

Claire Harman, who gave the annual lecture
The Great Charlotte Brontë Debate. From left to right. Katherine Langrish,
Lucy Hughes-Hallett, Tracy Chevalier, Joanne Harris and Claire Harman

A lighter look at the Brontës was taken by the comedy duo ‘Lip Service’ (Maggie Fox and Sue Ryding) in a film made at the Parsonage which was screened for members. Some of us saw their hilarious stage show ‘Withering Looks’ in Haworth a few years ago. Entertainment was also provided in the form of a dinner and a quiz with quizmaster Barry Simmons from BBC2’s ‘Eggheads’. I doubt that I was alone in performing rather better in the questions on the Brontës than in the more challenging geography, science etc. questions that followed.

Entertainment of another sort was provided by the Brontë Society AGM. For some years the Brontë Society council has been divided about the best way to run the museum and the direction the Society should take. Stormy moments in recent annual general meetings have been relayed with glee by the local and national press, particularly last year when the then President Bonnie Greer jokingly threatened to bang on the table with her Jimmy Choo shoe to restore order. The new President, Judi Dench, was unable to be present to chair this year’s meeting, which got off to bumpy start when questions were asked about the recent resignations of several council members, with one member protesting loudly that the former chair should be allowed more time to give her account of events. This year the press came up with headlines such as ‘Withering Slights’ (‘Wuthering Fights’ was a favourite last year). Tempers cooled down, however, for the second part of the meeting. The new chair, John Thirlwell, set out his vision of a more ambitious Society and Museum and introduced Kitty Wright, the new Museum Director.

On Monday many of us joined a coach excursion to various places in the ‘Shirley Country’. We visited the graves of Charlotte Brontë’s two schoolfriends: Mary Taylor’s in the churchyard at St Mary’s Church in Gomersal (where a stone has been laid in memory of her sister Martha Taylor, who died in Brussels) and Ellen Nussey’s in Birstall. We also visited the Red House in Gomersal, home of the Taylor family, and Oakwell Hall, the inspiration for Shirley Keeldar’s home in Shirley, Fieldhead. Charlotte visited this house in the 1840s, when it was a boarding school.

Helen MacEwan

A top six of Villette translations covers

$
0
0
Villette has been translated into at least 29 languages. A good many of these have more than one translation of the novel, and quite often these translations have had more than one edition. It has resulted in many different cover pages. In the old days they were rather dull, as they did not have an illustration. But from 1949 onwards they mostly did.

There can be some discussion about the number of languages, as it is debatable whether, for instance, Portuguese and Brazilian Portuguese are two different languages. The same goes for Czech and Slovak. But here we count them as different languages, and thus get to 29 (so far). The list is as follows: Arab, Brazilian Portuguese, Bulgarian, Chinese, Czech, Danish, Dutch, Finnish, French, German, Greek, Hebrew, Hungarian, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Latvian, Lithuanian, Norwegian, Persian, Polish, Portuguese, Rumanian, Russian, Slovenian, Slovak, Spanish, Swedish and Turkish.

Western European languages usually fully adopt Villette as the title of the translations. In many other cases the title is a variation on how Villette sounds. In other cases it is translated as ‘little city,’ the literal meaning of it. The Russian translations for instance usually have the latter version. Some have an alternative title, like the Chinese translation presented in a recent blog article, which translates as ‘Miss Luo Snow’s study tour in the mind.’ Italy has two translations with the titles Collegio femminile and L’Angelo della tempesta.

Almost all versions, with their covers, can be found on the internet. I asked Sue Lonoff and Brian Bracken for their favourites, sending them a shortlist of 18 covers. Together we came to the following top six of finest Villette covers.

Number 6

The Hebrew Villette, published in 2010 by Carmel, from Jerusalem (491 pp.), has ended up at number six. It was translated by Sigal Adler. The title transcribes as ‘Vilt.’ The cover painting, Caspar David Friedrich’s Woman at the window, from 1822, reflects the Empire style of the early 19th century. It’s the only translation of Villette in the Hebrew language.



Number 5

The Spanish Villette, at nr. five, was published in 2014 by Alba, from Barcelona (648 pp.). This translation was done by Marta Salis Canosa, a translator and a journalist. Among the other works she translated are Dickens’ David Copperfield and Austen’s Pride and prejudice. The cover  has an 1840 engraving of Brussels, by an unknown artist. It is the only cover illustration without any people on it. It prominently features the Hôtel de Ville.


Number 4

The Italian Villette from 2013 that got to nr. 4 was published by Fazi, from Rome (634 pp.). It is a translation done by Simone Caltabellota, with an introduction by Antonella Anedda. The cover shows a fine self-portrait by Ann Mary Newton (née Severn, 1832-1866). She was born in Rome, a daughter of the British consul. In 1841 they moved (back) to England. The painting is in the collection of the National Portrait Gallery, and probably dates from the early 1860s. It may be the cover painting that comes closest to the year of publishing, 1853, of Villette, and which reflects the style of dress then most closely. She studied under George Richmond, who of course drew the famous portrait of Charlotte. This makes it a great cover painting, especially for an Italian Villette. (For more about this work see the Italy Villette article). The painting has also been used for one of the 1996 Penguin Classics editions of Anne’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.




Number 3

The Swiss Villette of 1950, at nr. 3, is as far as we know the second oldest translation with an illustrated cover page (the first, Dutch, one, was discovered too late to join this competition). It was published by Marguerat, from Lausanne, and is an ‘adaptation,’ or an abridged version, with 357 pages only, by Roger Villemin, who did a few more translations of English works. The charming cover drawing was made by the Swiss artist Roger Montaudon (1918-2005). It’s one of several covers that feature ships, as does for instance the Hebrew Villette. This illustration obviously refers to the last chapter of the novel (as does for instance an Iranian translation which has a painting of ships in stormy weather).


Joint Number 1

The number one place is shared by translations from Iraq and Latvia.

The Latvian Villette was published in 2011 by Daugava, from Riga. in two volumes (with 279 and 380 pages respectively). The winning cover is the one of the first volume. It was translated by Dagnija Dreika (1951-), writer of children’s books, poet and translator. She has translated very many books from a number of languages, while her poetry has been translated into a number of languages. Apart from Jane Eyre she translated all the Brontë novels, as well as Charlotte’s The Green Dwarf. She also did all the novels of Jane Austen. She wrote a book about the sisters - Māsas Brontē – trīs zvaigznes angļu literatūras debesīs (2000) as well. Pilsētiņa, the title of the translation, means little city. I have not been able to find out which and whose painting was used for this cover. The guess is that it’s an 1880s painting.



The Arab Villette was published in 1984 by Renaissance Library, from Baghdad (550 pp.). The title, فيليت, transcribes as ‘fylyt.’ The cover shows the only attempt ever to portray Lucy Snowe on a Villette cover. We have not yet been able to find out who translated it and who drew the cover.



"Would Charlotte Brontë have approved though?” Sue Lonoff asks. “Her Lucy Snowe is plain, perhaps ugly; her conviction of her own unattractiveness lies at the core of her character. More tellingly, no self-respecting woman at the time of this novel would have worn make-up. This cover figure sports thick blue eye shadow, eye-liner on her upper lids, and bright red lipstick.”

In time you will be able to chose your own top list of nicest covers. There are more than 100 covers of translations for the two Brussels novels, so it will take time. To begin with you can see the Italian (in two articles, about Villetteand The Professorand Dutch translations (part one and part two), and covers. Both languages have produced quite a lot of them. Maddalene de Leo has been so kind to cover Italy. For a long time she has been doing very much for the Brontës in her country. One of her more recent works is a translation of Jolien Janzing’s De Meester, but unfortunately no publisher has been found yet.

Eric Ruijssenaars

Villette in Italy, translations and reprints

$
0
0
Charlotte Brontë’s Villette has remained almost unknown for more than a century after its publication in Italy to most critics and writers. Its very first complete translation into Italian dates back to March 1962 when Rizzoli published the novel in B.U.R. (Biblioteca Universale Rizzoli). It was translated by Marcella Hannau Pavolini, at the time a well-known translator of English and American novels never read till then in the Italian language. She was the poet Corrado Pavolini’s wife and was considered ‘a very intelligent woman.’ Her only Brontë translation was Villette which she entitled Collegio Femminile and it was unabridged since the whole text was reproduced, with the French sentences translated in notes and a short introduction by Mrs. Hannau Pavolini herself. This first Italian edition appeared in two little (16 cm) volumes for a total of 597 pages, with no picture on the cover (figs. 1 and 1a).


The cover of the 1962 Collegio Femminile, with and
without the dust wrappers

In the same year 1962 the second edition of an abridged version of the same novel entitled Miss Lucy (fig. 2) appeared for the publishing house Capitol, from Bologna, after a first edition from 1960 (522 pp.). It was translated by Valentina Bianconcini, who in those years was also the translator of other abridged teenager versions of the Brontë novels (1).

The cover of the 1960/1962 Miss Lucy

In 1996 a new unabridged Italian version of Charlotte Brontë’s last novel appeared with its original title, Villette, published by Fazi Editore and translated by Simone Caltabellota with a preface by Antonella Anedda (fig. 3). The translator, who at the time worked in the then almost unknown publishing house, is nowadays an Italian acclaimed editor and novelist but has never again translated other Brontë novels. In this translation however Charlotte’s French is not given in Italian. It has seen three reprints, the first in 2003 (a pocket edition, with a new cover) and the other two, in 2013 (634 pp) and 2014 (640 pp), with another new cover (fig. 4 and 5). The latter has been described in the VilletteCover top 6 article (as nr. 4).

The cover of the 2003
 Fazi 
Villette

The cover of the 2013/2014 Fazi Villette


In 1997 a further edition of Villette was published by Frassinelli with the title L’Angelo della Tempesta (696 pp., fig. 6), whose translator and editor was Lucio Angelini, a famous Italian writer and translator. In this one Charlotte’s French sentences are translated in the notes at the end of the book. This translation  was considered by Aldo Busi, by then chief editor at Frassinelli, ‘the most beautiful and musical of Angelini’s, a masterpiece to use in any Italian translation course’. L’Angelo della Tempesta has been reprinted in March 2016 by Oscar Classici Mondadori (704 pp.,fig. 7).

The cover of the 1997
L'Angelo della Tempesta
The cover of the 2016
L'Angelo della Tempesta

A new reprint of Villette with this same title, published by Newton Compton (MiniMammuth) with the original translation by Marcella Hannau Pavolini (fig. 8) is also on the Italian book market from 2016 (without any introduction, 510 pp.), due to the recent growing interest in Charlotte Brontë’s beautiful last novel.

The cover of the 2016 Newton
Compton Villette

(1) Sempre con te (Agnes Grey), 1960, Quel dolce sorriso (The Professor), 1961, La misteriosa signora Graham (The Tenant of Wildfell Hall), 1962.

Maddalena De Leo

The Professor in Italy, translations and reprints, and other Brontë works

$
0
0
The first Italian translation of The Professor dates back to 1890, published by A. Miazzon, with the title Il Professore. It was followed many years later by Il Professore published by Sonzogno in March 1931. This makes the illustrated cover the oldest of all translations of The Professor and Villette. On its cover the novel’s author is still given as ‘Currer Bell’.

Cover of the 1931 Il Professore

A further translation by Valentina Bianconcini appeared in 1961, published by Capitol with the title Quel dolce sorriso.

Cover of the 1961 Quel dolce sorriso


Five years later another translation appeared, as Il Professore again, published by Paoline.

Cover of the 1966 Il Professore

In 1996 the novel finally had its complete, professional translation by Maria Stella, published by La Tartaruga, yet again as Il Professore. It was reprinted in 2003 by Baldini & Castoldi.

Cover of the 1996 Il Professore


Cover of the 2003 Il Professore
In 2013 it was again published by La Tartaruga.

Cover of the 2013 Il Professore

In 2016 Il Professore has been published by Fazi with a new translation, by Martina Rinaldi.

Cover of the 2016 Il Professore
The devoirs

As far as the Brontës Belgian devoirs are concerned, I myself translated and edited Componimenti in francese, just Emily’s, in 2002 published by Ripostes. In Autumn 2016 my new and enlarged edition, with all of Charlotte’s and Emily’s devoirs, based on Sue Lonoff’s authoritative book, will be published, again by Ripostes.

The other Brontë novels

The first, abridged, Italian translation of Jane Eyre was published in 1892. The first complete translation appeared in 1935. Charlotte’s Shirley had an abridged first publication too, in 1966. The first complete translation took until 1996.

The first Italian Wuthering Heights was published in 1925 and translated by Enrico Piceni.
Agnes Grey and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall first appeared in 1956 and 1962 respectively, the second in an abridged version, by the same translator. The first full translation of Wildfell Hall was published in 1997.

Maddalena De Leo

'Villette' and 'The Professor' in Dutch – Part one

$
0
0
After the first Dutch Villette of 1856, described on this blog in this article of a few months ago, six more translations were published. These will be described below in a two-part article. Some attention will also be paid to The Professor and to the other Brontë novels.

The second Dutch Villette had two editions, published in 1949 and 1950. It was translated by R.N. Bekaert, but it’s not been possible to find out who this person was. The surname though indicates that she or he was probably from Flanders, as the name is much more common there than in The Netherlands. The first of these editions was published by the Wereldbibliotheek, from Amsterdam & Antwerp (498 pp). Unfortunately this publisher, who has been very helpful,  also knows nothing about the translator. As far as is known this is the oldest Villette translation with a cover illustration, and a really good one at that, with Lucy and the Ste. Gudule cathedral (in a composition similar to the 1950 Swiss Villette that got to number 3 in the cover top six). The illustration was done by the Antwerp artist Germaine Cluytmans 1912-1968). She was a painter and print-maker, and made a few more book covers.

It is a hard cover book, with the illustration on a dust wrapper. It is also a very rare book. The publisher appears to have the only known existing copy with the dust wrapper. And at present there’s only known antiquarian bookshop in The Netherlands that has a copy for sale (unfortunately without the dust wrapper).





















Pictures of the dust wrapper cover illustration, the title page and the hard cover spine of the 1949 Dutch Villette (with thanks to Frenchie de Kunder of the Wereldbibliotheek, and Klaas Mulder of antiquarian bookshop De Boekenbeurs in Groningen)

The second edition of this translation was published in 1950 by Boekengilde Die Poorte, from Antwerp (500 pp.). The hard cover is the same, apart from the colour. This one is green, whereas the 1949 edition was in red. It will most probably have had the same dust wrapper cover illustration, but that was missing in the copy we saw.











Pictures of the hard cover page and the
title page of the 1950 Villette (collection KBR -
Belgian Royal Library)

Very shortly afterwards, in 1951, a third Villette translation was published.  It got to four editions. The translation was a co-production, by Elisabeth de Roos and Cees Kelk. Kelk also wrote the preface.
Elisabeth Geertruida de Roos (1903-1981) also translated Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre, as well as, among other English and French works,  George Eliot’s The mill on the Floss. She also wrote some books herself, and was active in the women’s rights movement. She was the wife of the well-known Dutch writer Edgar du Perron.

Photo of Elisabeth de Roos, ca. 1935

Cornelis Jan (Cees) Kelk (1901-1981) was a writer and a translator. His list of translated works includes Dickens’ Oliver Twist, and French works such as Flaubert’s Madame Bovary.

The first four editions of their translation were published by Contact (Amsterdam & Antwerp).

The cover of the 1951 Contact Villette (488 pp.)

Title page of the 1951 Contact Villette

The second edition was published a year later, in 1952, with a new, charming, cover (viii + 489 pp). Since these two editions are not available for research it is not clear whether the first one contains the preface. But the 1951 title page suggests it didn’t.

Cover of the 1952 Contact Villette

The third edition was published in 1968, as Villette. Meisjeskostschool in Brussel (536 pp., incl. intro), in the ‘Contact Klassieken’ series. Meisjeskostschool is a translation of Pensionnat de demoiselles. It had six illustrations, one of which was also used for the cover page. These were made by André Nicolas Suter, a painter and a book illustrator (Switzerland; 1943-). Other books he illustrated include books by W. Somerset Maugham and Agatha Christie. The cover shows Lucy and Ginevra.

Cover of the 1968 Contact Villette

The fourth edition of this translation was published in the same year, 1968, by De Boekenschat (536 pp.), with a very dull cover.

Cover of the 1968
De Boekenschat Villette
Title page of the 1968 
De Boekenschat Villette

The fourth Dutch translation was published in 1964, by Veen (Amsterdam), in the ‘Amstel boeken’ series (409 pp.). It only got to one edition. This translation was done by Ina Eliza Prins-Willekes Macdonald (1886-1979). She also translated Wuthering Heights and Shirley, as well as many other English works, and French and Russian novels. She wrote some books herself and was active in the women’s rights movement too.

Photo of Ina Prins-Willekes Macdonald

Cover of the 1964 Veen Villette

In 1969 the fifth Villette translation was published, by Kempische Boekhandel (492 pp.). This Villette was translated by Frans van Oldenburg Ermke, a pseudonym of Franciscus Antonius Brunklaus (1909-1974), a Dutch writer, journalist and translator. Among the circa 250 works he translated are Wuthering Heights, Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey and Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe.

Cover of the 1969 Kempische Boekhandel
Villette


To be continued

Eric Ruijssenaars

Viewing all 217 articles
Browse latest View live