“There is always a ‘but’ in this imperfect world.” – Anne Bronte
Anne Bronte is less well-known than her sisters Emily and Charlotte, yet I recently came across a description of the impact her book, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, published in 1848, had on readers, which I loved and could not forget. As a result, I did a deep dive on Anne – who died at age 29 in 1849 – tidbits of which I share with you now. The description that caught my attention, starting the dive? This: in 1913, British author and suffragette May Sinclair declared that the slamming of Tenant’s main character Helen Huntingdon’s bedroom door against her husband (an abusive alcoholic) reverberated throughout Victorian England.
Wham! Once more we feel the power of literature. You go, Helen or, rather, Anne, proving yet again why the bad guys always, always go after books, banning those that upend conventions, or that expose bad guys, mistaken beliefs, laws, and conventions, or all of the above! And more. I may hate the internet on odd days, or even ones – or for moments on all days!! – but it has exposed what women go through in a public square, and that, my friends, is a good thing. But, back to literature and the other sister.
Contemporary critics were unhappy about Anne Bronte’s honest depictions of men behaving badly. Anne – a single woman writing under the pseudonym Acton Bell – never married, yet she knew well from watching her own brother what alcohol and gender privilege did to families, none of it good. I think it’s also safe to assume, as a parson’s daughter, a governess, and intelligent observer of her fellow humans, Anne saw and heard plenty throughout her short life along the same damnable lines, further inspiring her work.
Another reason the novel had an impact: Bronte’s heroine Helen Huntingdon was an artist, enough of a talented painter to be able to generate income, which she did in order to survive after going into hiding away from the abusive Mister H. That money, under the laws of the time, belonged to her husband because she had no legal right to it, which is mind-blowing but typical of that and every other era and culture, a punishing, patriarchal tradition that continues to this day in repressive communities around the globe.
In the book, Anne Bronte with Helen Huntingdon, created a character who manages to violate both social conventions and English law, opening the door to change, which is what novels do; they allow us to imagine a better world, they open minds and hearts. Until the Married Women’s Property Act of 1870, a married woman in the U.K. was, essentially, enslaved to her husband, having no legal existence independent of that relationship. Women could not own property, or sue for divorce or impact in any way, shape, or form the custodial status of their own children.
Did The Tenant of Wildfell Hall make that change, was it that revolutionary? No, but – it shed light on the issues, it made real what women endured, and it started a conversation that helped move the needle, because we cannot fix or change what we refuse to acknowledge.
Confession: I’ve never read either Tenant of Wildfell Hall or Agnes Gray, and I only did a dive on Anne because – restless and wanting costume drama for relief’s sake – I watched a TV adaptation of the book from the 90s. It’s dated, and there are gaps in the story, but oh, it was exactly what I needed. Escapism from current events and more comes in many forms. If you love the Brontes as I do, I cannot recommend the PBS Masterpiece To Walk Invisible highly enough; it’s about all three Bronte sisters, their brother, father, and lives – as well as their legacy. I found it deeply moving and powerful, so much so I haven’t viewed it again because it laid me out, sobbing.
Wham.
The truth is, I believe Jane Eyre saved my life as a child, and I have always felt a debt to the Bronte sisters for that, as well as for their creativity and struggle. Writing first drafts by hand, while living in gent eel poverty, second class citizens whatever the depth and breadth of their talent? Sheroes. That they were published at all is a testament to their profound gifts, drive and – I suspect – their real financial need, like Anne Bronte’s heroine, Helen Huntingdon.
Charlotte Bronte, I discovered in my dive, died in 1855 at age 38 from a condition in pregnancy that it turns out we share: hyperemesis gravidarum. Yet, none of the sisters lived long lives. Emily Bronte died first, at age 30, in 1848. Their too early deaths alone are overwhelming, thinking of what was lost.