Author: insearchofannebronte@hotmail.com

December has begun, a busy month for most of us, but especially for a certain couple back in December 1812. Patrick Brontë and Maria Branwell had first met just months earlier, but already their wedding was fixed for 29th December – with that came not only the vows which would tie them together forever, and set literary history in process, but also a change of home. Patrick Brontë would be saying goodbye to Lousy Thorn Farm.

Both these people had already travelled a long way from the place of their birth, especially by early 19th century standards – the railway had yet to be invented, and long journeys were expensive and made by coach, ship or a combination of the two. Journeys such as the 400 miles or so that Maria made from Cornwall to the West Riding of Yorkshire were arduous and sometimes perilous – it was common for people to make their will before undertaking such a journey.

Maria Branwell herself experienced just how dangerous the journey could be – although she, thankfully, arrived safely, her belongings which were sent after her in a trunk were lost at sea when the ship carrying them was wrecked in a storm. 

Patrick had crossed the sea on his journey from County Down, in what is now Northern Ireland, to England, via Cambridge, and although he remained in close contact with his relatives he never saw the country of his birth again. By 1812 he was in his mid thirties and Maria in her late twenties, but when they met they realised that their life had changed forever. We can see this in a moving letter sent by Maria to her fiance on 24th October:

‘Unless my love for you were very great how could I so contentedly give up my home and all my friends… Yet these have lost their weight… the anticipation of sharing with you all the pleasures and pains, the cares and anxieties of life, of contributing to your comfort and becoming the companion of your pilgrimage, is more delightful to me than any other prospect which this world can possibly present.’

As December opened, plans for the wedding were heading into overdrive. As Brontë fans and regular readers of my blog may remember this wasn’t any old wedding – it was a triple wedding! At the same ceremony that would see Maria and Patrick wed, Maria’s cousin Jane and Patrick’s best friend William also wed. On the same day and at the same time, although in distant Cornwall, Maria’s sister (and Jane’s cousin) Charlotte Branwell was marrying yet another cousin Joseph Branwell. In 1884 this Charlotte Branwell’s daughter, another Charlotte Branwell, later gave this summary to a Cornish newspaper:

‘It was arranged that the two marriages [Patrick and Maria and William and Jane] should be solemnized on the same day as that of Miss Charlotte Branwell’s mother, fixed for 29th December in far off Penzance. And so, whilst the youngest sister of Mrs. Brontë was being married to her cousin, the late Mr Joseph Branwell, the double marriage, as already noted, was taking place in Yorkshire. Miss Charlotte Branwell also adds that at Guiseley not only did the Rev. Mr Brontë and the Rev. Mr Morgan perform the marriage ceremony for one another, but the brides acted as bridesmaids for each other. Mr Fennell, who was a clergyman of the Church of England, would have united the young people, but he had to give both brides away. Miss Branwell notes these facts to prove that the arrangement for the three marriages on the same day was no caprice or eccentricity on the part of Mr Brontë, but was made entirely by the brides. She has many a time heard her mother speak of the circumstances. “It is but seldom,” continues Miss Branwell, “that two sisters and four cousins are united in holy matrimony on the same day. Those who were united on that day bore that relationship to each other. Mrs. Brontë (formerly Maria Branwell) and my mother, Charlotte Branwell, were sisters; my father was their cousin; and Jane Fennell was a cousin to them all, her father, the Rev. J. Fennell, having married a Miss Branwell of a former generation. If the account I have given you is likely to be of any interest you are quite at liberty to use it as you think proper. I really think a deal of eccentricity has been ascribed to Mr Brontë which he never possessed, and from his letters to my dear mother, of which there are some still in existence, I should say he was a very worthy man, but one who had to pass through some great trials in the early death of a truly amiable wife and of a very gifted family.”’

That’s all clear as mud isn’t it, but what is clear is that the start of December 1812 must have seen lots of excitement and lots of planning. In another letter, dated 5th December, we hear that Maria is anticipating the baking:

‘We intend to set about making the cakes here next week, but as fifteen or twenty persons whom you mention live probably in your neighbourhood, I think it will be most convenient for Mrs Bedford to make a small one for the purpose of distributing there, which will save us the difficulty of sending so far.’

Mrs Bedford was presumably Patrick’s landlady for at the time he, as vicar of the parish of Hartshead cum Clifton (near Mirfield, which Anne Brontë would come to know so well), was renting accommodation at the less than delightfully named Lousy Thorn Farm in Hartshead.

What Patrick’s accommodation looked like we have little way of knowing – the building fell into disrepair, but it is now being restored and is currently called Thornbush Farm. The plan is to turn it into a Brontë visitor attraction, so I hope that comes to fruition!

After their marriage Patrick and Maria Brontë began their married life in a new home together – and this building still stands today. It is Clough House in Hightown near Liversedge, and the site bears a plaque remembering its illustrious former residents. The building itself can be seen at the head of this post.

Whatever your December plans are, I hope they progress smoothly and happily, and I hope to see you next week for another new Brontë blog post – on Sunday at the usual time, I’m sorry that today’s post was a day later than usual, December can be a hectic month for all of us!

I know I’m not the only one who is endlessly fascinated by those brilliant Brontë sisters – not only by their magnificent poems and novels but by their all too brief lives as well. There are many great sources for information on the Brontë sisters’ lives – from biographies and YouTube channels such as my own House Of Brontë to the hundreds of letters that Ellen Nussey kept from her best friend Charlotte Brontë. One other source of Brontë information has an impeccable provenance – and it began on this very day exactly 190 years ago.

The tin box above contained Emily Brontë’s sewing equipment, a collection of needles, threads and fabrics – but it had within it a very important secret. It came into the hands of Arthur Bell Nicholls, having been passed to him following the death of his first wife Charlotte Brontë, and formed part of his large, much loved yet mournful collection of Brontë ephemera. In 1895, 40 years after the passing of Charlotte, Arthur turned the box around in his hand, heard a click and a secret compartment opened which had not seen the light of day since the death of Emily Brontë in 1848. Inside were tiny scraps of folded paper, incredible treasures. 

What Arthur had discovered was the hiding place of Emily and Anne Brontë’s secret diary papers in which they detailed their life in Haworth Parsonage and beyond, and their dreams for the future. The very first diary paper was composed jointly by Emily and Anne Brontë, and Emily has sketched Anne’s hair flowing down the side of the page. It was dated 24th November 1834, and I produce it below:

“November the 24, 1834 Monday, Emily Jane Brontë, Anne Brontë, I fed Rainbow, Diamond, Snowflake, Jasper, pheasant this morning. Branwell went down to Mr Drivers and brought news that Sir Robert Peel was going to stand for Leeds. Anne and I have been peeling apples for Charlotte to make an apple pudding and for Aunt’s nuts and apples. Charlotte said she made puddings perfectly and she was of a quick but limited intellect. Tabby said just now come Anne pilloputate (ie pill a potato). Aunt has come into the kitchen just now and said, ‘where are your feet Anne?’ Anne answered, ‘on the floor Aunt’. Papa opened the parlour door and gave Branwell a letter saying, ‘here Branwell read this and show it to your Aunt and Charlotte’. The Gondals are discovering the interior of Gaaldine, Sally Mosley is washing in the back kitchen.

It is past twelve o’clock Anne and I have not tidied ourselves, done our bed work or done our lessons and we want to go out to play. We are going to have for dinner boiled beef, turnips, potatoes and apple pudding; the kitchen is in a very untidy state. Anne and I have not done our music exercise which consists of b major. Tabby said, on my putting a pen in her face, ‘ya pitter pottering there instead of pilling a potate’, I answered, ‘oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, I will directly’. With that I get up, take a knife and begin pilling (finished pilling the potatoes). Papa going to walk. Mr Sunderland expected.

Anne and I say I wonder what we shall be like and what we shall be and where we shall be if all goes on well in the year 1874 – in which year I shall be in my 57th year, Anne will be going in her 55th year, Branwell will be going in his 58th year, and Charlotte in her 59th year; hoping we shall all be well at that time, we close our paper. Emily and Anne, November the 24 1834”

Emily and Anne at this point placed little emphasis on spelling and punctuation, yet this is our first glimpse of them in writing – our first insight into two of the greatest literary genii of the nineteenth century. The image above shows Emily’s sketch of herself and Anne at their table composing their 1837 diary paper.

I hope you can join me next week for another new Brontë blog post, put the date in your diary and then seal it away in your secret tin box.

I’ve just returned from a lovely weekend in Bridlington, in the very best company. It was surprisingly busy, as, unbeknownst to us, it was the grand unveiling of the east coast resort’s Christmas tree and illuminations. The resort has been a popular town for visitors for the last two hundred years, and in today’s post we’re going to look at one who is very much of interest to us: Charlotte Brontë.

The resort today has a lot to offer holiday makers of all ages, including stomach churning rides, golden sands and more fish and chip shops than you can shake a stick of Bridlington rock. Some things, and certainly some of the views, available there today would have seemed familiar to Charlotte, but one thing at least has changed: the resort’s name. In the first half of the nineteenth century it was called Burlington not Bridlington, and it was here that Charlotte Brontë came, in company with her great friend Ellen Nussey, for her first ever journey to the seaside.

In August 1839 Charlotte travelled by train to Ellen to what we now know as Bridlington, staying in a cottage in nearby Easton. Ellen Nussey later gave an account of the incredible effect the sea had on Charlotte:

“‘The day but one after their capture they walked to the sea, and as soon as they were near enough for Charlotte to see it in its expanse, she was quite over-powered, she could not speak till she had shed some tears she signed to her friend to leave her and walk on; this she did for a few steps, knowing full well what Charlotte was passing through, and the stern efforts she was making to subdue her emotions her friend turned to her as soon as she thought she might without inflicting pain; her eyes were red and swollen, she was still trembling, but submitted to be led onwards where the view was less impressive; for the remainder of the day she was very quiet, subdued, and exhausted. Distant glimpses of the German Ocean had been visible as the two friends neared the coast on the day of their arrival, but Charlotte being without her glasses, could not see them, and when they were described to her, she said, “Don’t tell me any more. Let me wait.”’

A love of the sea, and awe at its power, lasted for Charlotte – as we see especially in her novel Villette where the sea is both facilitator and destroyer – the channel (in a very real sense) for the beginning of Lucy Snowe’s adventure and the end of her dreams. Love of Bridlington lasted for Charlotte too, as when she was looking for a suitable location to open a school with sisters Emily and Anne Brontë the town was her first choice, although she later decided to try to open a school in Haworth.

Thank you as always for all your support for my blog – you can also now follow my YouTube account with the channel name House Of Brontë, my latest video looks at why the Brontë sisters used male names and the moving stories behind their choices.

I hope to see you next Sunday for another new Brontë blog post.

Today in the United Kingdom has seen a suitably solemn recollection of Remembrance Sunday. It’s a day when we remember wars of the past, when we remember the soldiers who fought in them and the civilians caught up in them, and think of wars still being waged across the globe. Human civilisation has changed a lot in the last two thousand years, at least on a technological scale, but one thing has remained constant: war. Group has fought group and country fought country in every century since then, and surely this is a pattern which will continue until the end of time. 

Certainly war was present in the time of the Brontës, as we shall see, but it was a relative in the succeeding generation who was to see the horrors and the twisted triumphs of war up close and personal. It may seem astonishing that a Brontë relative was amidst the hellish spectacle of the first world war, but that’s exactly what Captain Arthur Branwell was. He was in fact just one generation away from Anne Brontë and her siblings, in other words he was a first cousin once removed. His father Thomas Brontë Branwell was the son of Charlotte Branwell (who had kept her surname by marrying her cousin Joseph Branwell). Thomas was given his middle name in tribute to his mother’s elder sister who had married and taken the Brontë name. This sister was, of course, Maria Branwell who married Patrick Brontë in Yorkshire on exactly the same 1812 day as Charlotte married Joseph in Cornwall – a remarkable triple wedding separated by 400 miles.

Marrying cousins was nothing new for the extended Branwell family of Penzance, for Thomas Brontë Branwell travelled 400 miles from Cornwall to Haworth in 1851. His purpose was to propose to Charlotte Brontë! After being turned down by Charlotte, something she also did to Ellen Nussey’s brother Henry, Thomas married a woman named Sarah Jones. Their son kept up the family tradition of marrying a cousin –a cousin rather remarkably named Charlotte Brontë Jones! So whilst the father failed to marry a Charlotte Brontë the son succeeded in doing so, and it was this very son, the husband of Charlotte Brontë Jones,  who found himself amidst the unspeakable horrors of France in World War One.

Born in 1862, Arthur was a military man by profession. He had served with distinction in the Boer War in South Aftrica and had actually retired from service by the time war in Europe was declared in 1914. Like many others, however, Arthur Branwell was called out of retirement and at first took up a role as an officer in charge of training new recruits. Before long he was somehow in France itself, where he was captured forever in this photograph of the officers of a group of the Royal Warwickshire Regiment. The photograph shows Captain Branwell with his supporting officers, two First Lieutenants and two Second Lieutenants.

As the caption notes: ‘This group has, alas, suffered severely since the picture was taken. In fact, Lieutenant Maunsell was killed in France, 2nd Lieutenant Gamble was killed in Palestine, Lieutenant Elliott and 2nd Lieutenant Gamble were killed at the Battle of the Somme. Only the seated figure, our Captain Branwell, survived the war and returned to England.

What do we know of the Brontë sisters’ attitudes towards war? The childhood Brontë tales of Angria and Gondal were full of intrigue, battles and conflict. They were fierce patriots, and we know that in 1854, the year of her marriage, Charlotte Brontë was helping her father Patrick raising money for the newly launched Patriotic Fund. This was a fund set up by the government to raise money for the widows and orphans of military personnel lost during the Crimean War, raging at the time. A letter sent by Patrick Brontë to an unknown parishioner at the time is reproduced below.

It should be noted that whilst the letter is seemingly sent by Reverend Brontë, it was actually in the handwriting of his daughter Charlotte. The Crimean war was at the forefront of Charlotte’s mind at this time, as we see in this letter of 6th December 1854 to Margaret Wooler. In this letter Charlotte Brontë gives a frank appraisal of the futility of war; Charlotte’s patriotism and love of her country is undiminished, but now she sees war as ‘one of the greatest curses that can fall upon mankind.’

For all those afflicted by that curse, yesterday, today and tomorrow we shall remember them. I hope you can join me next Sunday for another new Brontë blog post.

As you all surely know by now I’m passionate about all things Brontë – and I know that you are too. I also love history, especially Tudor and Stuart history, which is one reason I wrote the gunpowder plot biography The Real Guy Fawkes.

As a Fawkes biographer, a gunpowderologist, my services are often in demand at this time of year. I appeared in the Channel 5 documentary ‘The Gunpowder Plot: Countdown To Treason’ last weekend, and today I was interviewed on Spanish radio. It seems Guy’s story still resonates, and it was certainly one well known to the Brontë sisters.

In my new YouTube channel my latest video looks at bonfire night celebrations at the time of the Brontës, and at the appearance of Guy Fawkes in a very famous Brontë novel! You can watch it here, and if you enjoy it and want to see more please open it up in YouTube and subscribe to the channel:

You can also catch the House Of Brontë podcast version at Amazon music below or on most good podcast providers:

The Brontës And Guy Fawkes Podcast

I hope you can join me on Sunday for my regular Brontë blog post, and if you are celebrating bonfire night tonight please don’t be like James Taylor (find out more in my video and podcast) who made a rather catastrophic error at an 1838 bonfire!

Today’s new Brontë blog post will very much be a post of two halves. In the first part we’ll be saying farewell to a member of the Brontë family who was central to the Brontë story, and in the second we’ll be saying hello to my new Brontë YouTube channel and podcast.

This day in November 1842 was a sad one for Haworth and the Brontë family, for it marked the funeral of Aunt Branwell. Elizabeth Branwell was an elder sister of the Brontë siblings’ mother Maria, and during Maria’s final illness she travelled over 400 miles from Penzance to Haworth to nurse her. After Maria’s death she could have returned to Penzance but she chose to remain in the cold, drafty parsonage and became a second mother to the Brontë children. In my opinion without the love of Aunt Branwell and without the financial support of Aunt Branwell there would be none of the Brontë books we know and love today.

In late October Elizabeth fell suddenly and terribly ill, it was clear that her end was approaching and her nephew Branwell Brontë remained faithfully by her side during her final days of suffering, as he revealed in an anguished letter to his friend Francis Grundy:

Her brother-in-law Patrick Brontë had been extremely close to Elizabeth Branwell, so planning her funeral was another of the many sorrows he had to face. We know that she was buried in accordance to her will – not in Penzance but in Haworth. In her will she states that she wished to be buried: “as near as convenient to the remains of my dear sister.’ This provision was stipulated by Elizabeth Branwell at the start of her will made on 30 April 1833 before witnesses William Brown (brother of the Haworth sexton John Brown,) his son William Brown Jr., and John Tootill, in which she also asks that, ‘my funeral shall be conducted in a moderate and decent manner’.

Moderately and decently, on 3rd November 1842, the remains of Elizabeth Branwell were placed into the Brontë family vault. A plaque above the vault lists members of the Brontë family interred there, but although she rests eternally alongside them her name is not included. In attendance during the ceremony were Patrick, Anne and Branwell Brontë with the service being carried out by Reverend James Bradley. Charlotte and Emily Brontë were in Brussels at the time their Aunt fell ill, and although they raced back to England upon receiving news of her illness they arrived too late for her funeral.

Let us remember Aunt Branwell today. She was a woman who loved the Brontës deeply and unreservedly. 

We now turn to the present day. I’m passionate about the Brontë books and the Brontë story, which is why I blog about them every week here – and will continue to do so. I’m hoping to spread my love of the Brontës even further, however, so I’ve now launched the House Of Brontë YouTube channel and podcast – and created a new page on this website to give you an easy place to access them going forward.

Both the YouTube channel and podcast will look at the Brontë family story from beginning to end, as well as featuring shorter episodes looking at the Brontës and at literature and history.

You can watch the YouTube channel here. Please subscribe to the channel and like the videos to keep up to date with my latest recordings:

You can also listen to The House Of Brontë podcast on Amazon Music here or by searching for The House Of Brontë on your usual podcast provider:

The House Of Brontë Podcast

I hope you can join me next Sunday for another new Brontë blog.

I don’t mean to scare you – but Halloween is here again! The Brontë sisters loved spooky stories, so every year on this blog I share a Brontë-related spooky tale or two.

The Brontës were more than capable of writing a scary passage or two as well, which has led to them being acclaimed masters of the gothic genre. Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights gives us one of classic literature’s most chilling moments as Catherine’s ghost shrieks ‘let me in’ at the window.

Charlotte included a ghostly nun in her novel Villette and in her letters she talks of having seen visions – also a recurring theme in Emily’s poetry.

The Brontë sisters loved to read spooky tales and they could write spooky tales, but some people have claimed that they star in their very own spooky tales! For a long time there have been sightings of Brontë ghosts, and they aren’t confined to Haworth.

Today I have launched my very own Brontë channel – The House Of Brontë. In it I will tell the Brontë story from beginning to end, as well as taking diversions into other literary and historical matters. These will also be available as audio-only podcasts shortly.

As followers of this blog or readers of my book will know, I’m passionate about telling the Brontë story, and I hope this YouTube channel will allow me to share this passion, and the stories of this incredible family, even further. That’s why I would love it if you could subscribe to my The House Of Brontë YouTube channel – and don’t worry, just like this blog it’s completely free and always will be.

The first episode is a light hearted Halloween Special, where I investigate Brontë hauntings and other Brontë-related ghost stories. You can watch it above – don’t be scared!

Pop singers and groups are often wary of second album syndrome – will their second offering live up to the expectation generated by the success of their first? That’s not confined to modern music of course, for Charlotte Brontë must have been feeling second novel syndrome on this week in 1849. In today’s post we’ll look at the publication of Shirley.

Shirley was published on 26th October 1849 making it the second published novel by Charlotte Brontë – although it was her third written novel, The Professor was only published posthumously. Charlotte, who was still using the pseudonym of Currer Bell, could never have guessed the success that Jane Eyre enjoyed. Within weeks of her sending her manuscript to Smith, Elder and Co. it had been published, was in shops, and was selling at a ferocious rate. Her publishers were understandably keen to have a second novel by this hot author, but they would have to wait for over two years.

A succession of tragedies delayed Charlotte’s production of this second novel, as her brother Branwell and her sisters Emily and Anne all died, at far too early an age, during its composition. After Anne’s death in May 1849 Charlotte found it hard to continue with Shirley, but eventually she found solace in creativity, and she gave the novel its most moving moments: Caroline, who is clearly based upon Anne Brontë, is dying of a condition reminiscent of tuberculosis:

“Not always do those who dare such divine conflict prevail. Night after night the sweat of agony may burst dark on the forehead; the supplicant may cry for mercy with that soundless voice the soul utters when its appeal is to the Invisible. ‘Spare my beloved’, it may implore. ‘Heal my life’s life. Rend not from me what long affection entwines with my whole nature. God of heaven, bend, hear, be clement!’ And after this cry and strife the sun may rise and see him worsted. That opening morn, which used to salute him with the whisper of zephyrs, the carol of skylarks, may breathe, as its first accents, from the dear lips which colour and heat have quitted, ‘Oh! I have had a suffering night. This morning I am worse. I have tried to rise. I cannot. Dreams I am unused to have troubled me.’

Then the watcher approaches the patient’s pillow, and sees a new and strange moulding of the familiar features, feels at once that the insufferable moment draws nigh, knows that it is God’s will his idol shall be broken, and bends his head, and subdues his soul to the sentence he cannot avert and scarce can bear.”

In real life Charlotte had to watch this happen with Anne, all her prayers and supplications could not save her – but in the novel, she would prevail. Miraculously Caroline recovers. It’s believed that initially it was intended that Caroline would die in the novel, but real life events made Charlotte change the narrative: she could not save Anne in reality, but she could save her in fiction. This, along with her depiction of people and places she knew in the novel, is one reason I love Shirley. I think it’s as good as any of Charlotte Brontë’s novels, but what would the critics think?

On 4th October 1849 Charlotte wrote to her publisher George Smith:
“The thought that Shirley has given pleasure at Cornhill [the headquarters of her publisher] yields me much quiet comfort. No doubt however you are – as I am – prepared for critical severity – but I have good hopes the vessel is sufficiently sound of construction to weather a gale or two, and make a prosperous voyage for you in the end.”

On 24th October, Charlotte again wrote to Smith:
“I am glad Shirley is so near the day of publication, as I know and then feel anxious to know its doom and to learn what sort of reception it will get. In another month some of the critics will have pronounced their fiat – and the Public also will have evinced their mood towards it. Meanwhile – patience.”

In fact Shirley gained mostly positive reviews – except for one review in The Times newspaper. Its reviewer said: “Shirley is at once the most high-flown and the stalest of fictions.” This pronouncement reduced Charlotte Brontë to tears. Then, as now, there were critics and commentators out there who were only too eager to tear down those who had been successful, but both author and novel have now a fame and reputation that those envious critics could never claim.

Incidentally, throughout this post I have used illustrations from the 1905 Dent edition of Shirley – one of the series of Brontë novels containing illustrations by Edmund Dulac. I’m lucky enough to have a complete set of these beautiful books, and they’re part of my Brontë collection which I will be selling/auctioning soon – look out for more details in next week’s post – I hope you can join me for it next Sunday.

One thing that Britain can be incredibly proud of is its culture, its art and its literature. For a relatively small island we have created some of the world’s greatest and most enduring art, music and books. The Brontë sisters are one unique example of creative genius that this country can rightly be proud of. One reason, I feel, for their enduring success is that their novels and characters are oh so human and relatable – in the near two hundred years since their creation fashions, technology and the way we live and work have changed rapidly, yet these books are still as popular and as relevant today as they have ever been. Humanity, and human genius, is at the heart of the Brontës’ success, but is this brand of creativity coming under increasing threat from AI? That’s the question I’m posing in today’s special post, as I ask AI to generate new Brontë novel ideas.

ITV have been responsible for some of the greatest television of the past decades. Much loved comedies such as Rising Damp and George and Mildred, classic adaptations of Brideshead Revisited and Poirot, groundbreaking shows like The Prisoner, Upstairs Downstairs, Armchair Theatre, The South Bank Show and Cold Feet. All reached our screens thanks to ITV – and thanks to the humans who devised and wrote them. That could be about to change as the result of a job  advertisement placed by ITV this week.

The ad was for an £80-95,000 job as ‘Head of Generative AI’. The successful candidate will “drive the strategy and execution of AI-driven transformation across ITV Studios and ITV’s streaming services,” and would be expected to use “implementation tools like AI-generated ideation, character development, and enhanced production graphics.”

In short, ITV is looking for someone to head up the creation and writing of TV shows made completely by AI. This is extremely problematic for more than one reason: not only can we expect the quality to drop considerably, there would also be a downgrading of human skills throughout the process and a loss of jobs involved in this creative process. Another, and increasingly controversial, process also rears its ugly head. Artificial Intelligence is a misnomer: there is no intelligence, as we could define it, being used by these computerised systems; in stark contrast, it actually trawls through material available on the internet at a vast pace and mashes it up into a finished piece that it hopes, through its algorithms and rules, will make some sort of sense. This means that AI writing and AI art is actually taking and utilising material created by humans without their knowledge or permission, and with no recompense to them. It is cyber plagiarism.

This advert makes quite clear that ITV are at this very moment planning to create AI television shows, and be under no illusion that this will affect the world of literature too. AI splurged books are not a dystopian future – they are already available and selling on sites such as Amazon. In fact Amazon itself is now advertising its own Titan AI creation system. For a price it will provide image and text generation, but how good will the results be?

AI graphics are already ubiquitous, but it seems to struggle particularly with not only capturing the human spirit but human form – we see people with ears on their shoulders and extra fingers on their hands. How does AI text fare? I asked ChatGPT, the leading AI system, to give me the title and outlines for new novels by Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë. I then asked an AI image generator to create suitable covers. Here is what they came up with:

Charlotte Brontë: Title: The Shadows of Windcliff

Plot: “In a remote, windswept region of northern England, nestled on the edge of jagged cliffs overlooking a tempestuous sea, lies Windcliff Hall, a sprawling manor house as mysterious as the family that inhabits it. Margaret Elwood, a quiet but resilient young woman, is hired as a governess to care for the strange, reclusive daughter of Sir Arthur Windcliff, the brooding master of the estate.

As Margaret settles into life at the forbidding manor, she is drawn into a world of secrets and suppressed emotions. The hall is filled with whispers of a family curse that haunts the Windcliffs – each generation marked by tragedy, madness, and mysterious disappearances. Sir Arthur, distant and brooding, carries a profound sorrow, and his daughter, Eliza, is unnervingly perceptive for her age, often speaking of shadows that move in the night and voices only she can hear.

Margaret is determined to uncover the truth of the curse and what happened to Sir Arthur’s late wife, whose death remains shrouded in ambiguity. As she digs deeper, she finds herself irresistibly drawn to Sir Arthur, despite the storm of emotions that roils between them. But the more Margaret uncovers, the more dangerous her situation becomes. The halls of Windcliff seem to pulse with an otherworldly presence, and Margaret must confront not only the mysteries of the past but also the shadows lurking within her own heart.

Gothic romance, eerie atmospheres, and Brontë’s signature exploration of internal struggle blend to create a tale of love, redemption, and the battle between light and darkness in the human soul.”

Emily Brontë: Title: Stormsong

Plot: “On the edge of the wild, untamed moors stands Darkswell Hall, an ancient mansion steeped in myth and mystery. The inhabitants of the nearby village whisper of curses, lost loves, and the restless spirits that haunt the windswept land. Into this world comes Lirael Morrow, a fiercely independent and headstrong young woman, who returns to her ancestral home at Darkswell after the sudden death of her father. Once a place of childhood wonder, Darkswell now feels suffocating, as though the very stones of the house are alive with unspeakable grief.

Lirael’s return sets in motion a chain of eerie events, beginning with the discovery of a strange, otherworldly song that seems to emanate from the heart of the moors on stormy nights. No one else can hear it but her, and its haunting melody draws her deeper into the desolate landscape, where she encounters a mysterious figure – a man who seems to belong as much to the moors as the sky and wind. This stranger, named Aidan Storme, is an enigmatic wanderer who speaks in riddles and appears only when the storms rage fiercest.

As Lirael becomes more entangled with Aidan, she learns of a long-buried feud between their families, one rooted in ancient betrayals and a love that defied both time and death. The curse that binds them is older than the moors themselves, a curse that stirs whenever the storm sings. Torn between her growing attraction to Aidan and the dangerous forces surrounding them, Lirael must unravel the mysteries of Darkswell Hall and her own family’s past before the storm’s song claims them both.

In the windswept desolation of the moors, Lirael is caught between the wild, untamable force of nature and her own tempestuous emotions. As passions run deep and hidden truths rise to the surface, she must decide whether to confront the dark legacy of her ancestors or be swept away by the storm.

Stormsong is an atmospheric tale of love, vengeance, and the powerful pull of destiny, filled with the gothic beauty, elemental fury, and deep emotional resonance that define Emily Brontë’s work. The novel explores the primal connection between the human soul and nature, the consuming force of desire, and the devastating power of secrets long kept hidden.”

Anne Brontë: Title: Whispers of Wildfell Wood

Plot: In the quiet village of Windmoor, nestled at the edge of a dense, shadowy wood, lives “Clara Lyndon, a young governess who has spent her life caring for others, always putting duty before her own desires. After the untimely death of her father, she takes a position at Wildfell House, a crumbling mansion on the outskirts of the village, owned by the reclusive Mrs. Thorburn and her melancholic son, Edmund. The estate is surrounded by a thick, foreboding wood, which the locals believe is cursed, filled with whispers of past tragedies.

Clara, sensible and pragmatic, dismisses the superstitions, but she soon discovers that Wildfell House holds dark secrets of its own. Mrs. Thorburn is a shadow of a woman, haunted by the memory of her lost daughter, Eleanor, whose mysterious disappearance years ago is still spoken of in hushed tones. Edmund, brooding and deeply troubled, seems bound to the house and its secrets, battling unseen demons as he retreats further into himself.

As Clara becomes more entangled in the lives of the Thorburn family, she stumbles upon Eleanor’s old journals hidden in the house, chronicling a life of stifled dreams, forbidden love, and unbearable sorrow. The more Clara reads, the more she is drawn into the mystery of what truly happened to Eleanor – and why her name is whispered among the villagers with such dread.

Against her better judgment, Clara begins to grow close to Edmund, whose despair mirrors the emotions she’s kept buried within herself for so long. Together, they try to uncover the truth about Eleanor’s fate and the secrets that linger in the depths of Wildfell Wood. But the more they search, the more they realize that some truths might be better left buried.

In Whispers of Wildfell Wood, Anne Brontë crafts a story of quiet courage and inner strength, exploring themes of loss, isolation, and the power of speaking out against oppression. As Clara unearths the truth about the Thorburn family, she must also confront her own fears, finding the strength to carve out a path for herself in a world that has always told her to stay silent.”

I think we can all agree that whilst these plotlines have picked up some of the more obvious Brontë tropes, there is little to differentiate these efforts ‘by’ Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë. It’s fair to say that they have failed to pick up on any of the subtlety of these incredible authors. Is that what we have to look forward to? I for one will prefer to read books, films and television shows written by actual humans.

I hope you can join me, as usual, on Sunday for another new Brontë blog post, and as always I promise it will be 100% written by a human – for better or worse.

On this week in 1847 a new author made their writing debut. Published by Smith, Jones & Co. the book Jane Eyre: An Autobiography marked the first appearance before the public of the mysterious Currer Bell. Nobody knew who Bell was or where he had come from, including his own publisher, but the reading public, if not necessarily all the critics, soon agreed that he had written a very excellent book indeed. Two centuries later the reading public still agrees with that, although we now know of course that Mr Currer Bell was in fact Miss Charlotte Brontë.

The precise date of the publication is unknown, but it is generally thought to be on the 16th October 1848 as Elizabeth Gaskell wrote that the date of publication of Jane Eyre was ‘no later than 16th October’. What we do know for sure is that three days later on the 19th October Charlotte received her six free author copies – and what a proud moment that must have been to her. Here is Charlotte’s letter thanking her publisher:

This day was a triumph for great storytelling, a triumph for literature, but it was also a triumph over adversity. Jane Eyre was written in a time of mental and physical darkness for Charlotte. Her first written novel The Professor had been rejected by every single publisher it was sent to, whilst at the same time her sisters Emily and Anne had their novels Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey accepted. This must have sown great doubts in Charlotte’s mind: she was the older sister, it was she who had always led their writing endeavours, but could it be that whilst her sisters were talented writers she was not?

At the same time, Charlotte had accompanied her father to Manchester where her father Patrick had received eye surgery to restore his sight. Elizabeth Gaskell recalled the scene as recounted to her by Charlotte:

“Among the dispiriting circumstances connected with her anxious visit to Manchester, Charlotte told me that her tale came back upon her hands, curtly rejected by some publisher, on the very day when her father was to submit to his operation. But she had the heart of Robert Bruce within her, and failure upon failure daunted her no more than him. Not only did The Professor return again to try his chance among the London publishers, but she began, in this time of care and depressing inquietude – in those grey, weary, uniform streets, where all faces, save that of her kind doctor, were strange and untouched with sunlight to her, – there and then, did the genius begin Jane Eyre.”

Charlotte’s publisher George Smith recounted the effect that receipt of Charlotte’s manuscript had upon him and his assistant W. S. Williams. Smith began reading it in his stately London mansion on Sunday morning, cancelled his lunch, cancelled a meeting and read it all in one day. It was published just as quickly, and in fact it reached the shops and circulating libraries before Emily and Anne Brontë’s work had yet been published.

A little over a week after its publication it was clear that Jane Eyre and Currer Bell were an overnight success. Even Charlotte’s hero William Makepeace Thackeray had read the novel and approved of it, as we see from a letter Charlotte, still hiding behind her Currer Bell nom de plume, sent to William Smith Williams:

Typically modest, and typically full of self-doubt, Charlotte ended her letter hoping that the novel would be a success, and ascribing any success that did accrue not to herself but to the efforts her publisher had made! 

Elizabeth Gaskell was right, as she was on so many things connected to her great friend: Charlotte Brontë had the heart of Robert the Bruce, she triumphed because she refused to give in. Let that be an example to us all, and I hope to see you next week for another new Brontë blog post.