An unseasonable heatwave has arrived, and it seems that England is about to head into its first ever warm and dry bank holiday (as far as I can remember.) The roads to the coast will no doubt be jammed, and it will be standing room only on the beaches, and in the bars, of Scarborough and Bridlington so well known to the Brontës. The crowds will also be out in the beautiful and historic city of York, but today we look at a journey to York that was made for a very different reason.
On this day 1849, Anne Brontë was in York alongside sister Charlotte Brontë and loyal family friend Ellen Nussey, but it was far from a joyous occasion. Anne was en route to Scarborough, hoping to take the healing waters of the town’s famous spa for she was dying of consumption. It was to be her last ever journey to Scarborough, and today we look at the first leg of their mournful journey – Anne Brontë’s last ever journey to York.
It was a city very well known to Anne, for she had spent over five years working as governess to the Robinson family of Thorp Green Hall – some 13 miles northwest of the city’s Roman walls. We also know that Anne visited York by rail in company with Emily Brontë, as remembered in Emily’s 1845 diary paper:
“Anne and I went on our first long journey by ourselves together, leaving home on the 30th of June, Monday sleeping at York, returning to Keighley Tuesday evening, sleeping there and walking home on Wednesday morning. Though the weather was broken we enjoyed ourselves very much… and during our excursion we were Ronald Macelgin, Henry Angora, Juliet Angusteena, Rosabelle, Ella and Julian Egramont, Catherine Navarre and Cordelia Fitzaphnold escaping from the palaces of Instruction to join the Royalists who are hard driven at present by the victorious Republicans.”
By this day in 1849 Emily was already dead, and Anne was rapidly following her as the trip to Scarborough loomed. Fearing that the journey would be too arduous to be completed in one stage, the sisters and Ellen had agreed to stay overnight in York. Accommodation was arranged at the George Hotel in Coney Street, across the River Ouse from the railway station. The hotel has long since closed, but the original archway and window can be seen still, forming part of a shop on what is now a bustling street full of local shoppers and tourists – fittingly enough, above the window is now a Waterstones cafe, where people can sit with books by Anne and her sisters.
The next morning, 25th May, a bath chair, an early form of wheelchair, was hired for Anne and she was pushed through the streets by Charlotte and Ellen in turn. Anne had explained to her sister how people dressed up in their finest for vacations in Scarborough so one priority was to purchase suitable clothing. A list was made of the clothing needed, and it read: “Bonnet. Corsets. Stockings black silk. Dress. Gloves. Ribbon for neck.” To Charlotte the shopping trip seemed like a mockery under their present circumstances, but Anne insisted upon it, as well as insisting upon paying for the goods, and she was not now to be denied any of her wishes.
One building in York she longed to see more than any other: York Minster. St Paul’s Cathedral had been grand in its own right, but this had an unparalleled mightiness, it was her own church. After being wheeled towards the entrance, Anne took a few faltering steps inside. Unable to walk far she sat down on one of the back rows and glanced up at the ceiling. Anne spent a long time silently contemplating the ornately decorated bosses and struts, the carved angels and the stained glass windows. It was, as it had been for centuries, a supremely beautiful scene. Her face was radiant, and it was as if she had been overcome by a profound joy. She whispered one half finished sentence:
‘If finite power can do this, what is the…’
Overcome by emotion Anne was unable to finish the sentence, and Charlotte placed her back into the bath chair and wheeled her away, fearing that this contemplation of an earthly paradise was about to hasten her exit to another one.
On this hot day full of promise, I’m sorry that today’s post may have been less than uplifting, but I do hope you can join me next Sunday for another new Brontë blog post as we remember her anniversary and pay fitting tribute to the life of Anne Brontë.
Hello,
As we remember our dear Anne at this sacred time of year, I simply wanted to thank you for your beautiful website and for the care you have given to preserving her life, her words, and her spirit.
I was especially moved by the account of her time in York, and by her visit to York Minster. Her unfinished remark — “If finite power can do this, what is the…” — feels almost too profound for ordinary language.
I am deeply grateful that Anne continues to inspire humanity today. Reading about her fills me with awe — awe for her courage, for the tenderness of her mind, for the power of literature, and for God’s presence in the fragile and beautiful mystery of life.
Thank you for helping keep her memory alive. I try to do the same. She inspires to no end.