An Archbishop Speaks

Archbishops of Canterbury have been very much in the news recently, as the new Archbishop Sarah Mullally gave her official new year address after becoming the first woman to hold the post. Patrick and Charlotte Brontë themselves knew a future Archbishop of Canterbury, and in today’s post we’re going to look at his fascinating assessment of Charlotte and her character.

Charles Longley was Bishop of Ripon, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, when he was a guest of the Brontës visiting Haworth Parsonage in March 1853. It was he who gave the fascinating account of what happened to Patrick’s predecessor as Haworth’s curate Samuel Redhead:

‘in the case of Mr. Redhead, the inhabitants exercised their right of resistance and opposition and to such a point did they carry it, that they actually brought a Donkey into the church while Mr. Redhead was officiating and held up its head to stare him in the face – they then laid a plan to crush him to death in the vestry, by pushing a table against him as he was taking off his surplice and hanging it up, foiled in this for some reason or other they then turned out into the Churchyard where Mr. Redhead was going to perform a funeral and were determined to throw him into the grave and bury him alive.’

Being made Bishop of Ripon wasn’t the pinnacle of Charles Longley’s achievements, for he next became Bishop of Durham, followed by Archbishop of York and then, in 1860, he became the Archbishop of Canterbury – the great Canterbury Cathedral can be seen at the head of this post.

He also gave an account of Charlotte Brontë in two letters sent to his wife Caroline. The first was sent from Haworth and described the village and parsonage:

‘It snowed the whole way here – becoming a storm when I got within a mile of this place. It is a curious spot… I had to cross a great deal of moor to get to it… Old Mr Brontë called it “that dismal hill – that fearful precipice”… In driving up to the parsonage, I had to go thro’ so narrow, dent-like a street that I thought  the carriage would have stuck – arrived however at the Parsonage I found Mr Brontë in a very comfortable room and his sight much restored, cheerful. 

His daughter appeared soon after – the only surviving child of six – but before I had seen her, I had seen a very fine crayon full sized portrait of her by Richmond, which someone presented to her father. You have heard her person described – she is small, but with marked features but quite self possessed. Her conversation is interesting and agreeable and she does not assume the Blue at all – we had a young clergyman at supper here who would talk to her about her books – but she soon gave him to understand she did not like this subject on all occasions.’

Two days later Bishop Longley had moved on to Wilsden, and he wrote to his wife again on a subject which seemed to have grabbed his attention: Charlotte Brontë:

‘She is not the least like the MIss Barkers – she has none of that stamp of genius in her countenance which they undoubtedly bear about them – she has none of that mark of inward inspiration (if I may be allowed thus to use the term) which one cannot but read in their expression. None of that close reserve, and difficulty of access in conversation which I at any rate found in them. She looks like a clever little boy, well-mannered, ready in conversation, just and sensible in her remarks which indicate thoughts and reflexions, active in her household duties, an excellent daughter, as her father assured me, without any of the abstractions of genius. Without making any fuss, she was exceedingly attentive to my comfort – would go up to my room and stir the fire, and see that all was ready for me before I went up for my morning writing before breakfast. Her young clerical neighbours speak of her as satirical and I cannot help suspecting that they have a little tournament with her now and then – and that she took revenge on them in Shirley.’

As the Archbishop, and most people in the area, knew, Charlotte had used her novel Shirley to give unflattering, but not mean, portraits of many of the local curates she knew – including her future husband Arthur Bell Nicholls. These fascinating letters get to the heart of what Charlotte Brontë was like after she found fame as an author – she was a great genius, but she was also greatly unassuming and preferred the everyday matters of domestic life to talking about her own novels and talents.

I hope you aren’t snowed in, and that you can join me next week for another new Brontë blog post.