Take courage, Samantha Ellis, 2017
In the wake of the enthusiasm aroused in me by “Agnes Grey” and the discovery of the incredible third Bronte sister, I visited the Museum in Haworth, England.
I expected to find a lot of information about Emily and Anne's life since all I kept
finding in books were writings and biographies about Charlotte. I was sure the Museum would give me many missing pieces. Instead, once again, all attention was on the older sister. Or rather, not really. There was, in fact, much more attention on the brother, Bromwell (the BBC set up a room just for him, complete with a reconstruction of his painful delirium): it seems almost unacceptable that for once in history, a man is excluded from the podium, so they gave him back the proper attention as an unfortunate misunderstood genius. Anyway, I bought Samantha Ellis' book, hoping to compensate for my ignorance and satisfy my curiosity; unlike the Museum, the book did not disappoint me.
“Take courage” is not a text on the biography of a recently rediscovered nineteenth-century author; it is a journey between present and past; it is the story of how difficult it is to be women and sisters, of how complex relationships are, and of how talent is not that divine gift that possesses us but an attitude that is cultivated with goodwill. “Take Courage” stitches together artistic work and real life; it reconstructs the personalities of the entire Bronte family without forgetting anyone, and it does so with honesty, attention, and compassion.
In this accurate framework, Anna Bronte emerges as an authentic and hopeful voice, linked to reality without becoming cynical like Emily; courageous because she is not willing to change her ideas for fear of not being liked like Charlotte; and conscious of what suffering means, without hiding herself behind it like Bromwell.
Her figure appears gigantic compared to the already considerable size of her sisters. For those who don't believe that old novels are of any use, I report a part of the book telling the funny anecdote of a woman who was saved by Anne Bronte's novel: “It’s by a Christian woman whose husband dragged her around by her hair, punched her and tried to brainwash her by highlighting passages of the Bible about how wives should submit to their husbands. He censored her reading, too, but he couldn’t see the harm in “The Tenant of Wildefell Hall” [Anne Bronte’s last novel]. It was just a Victorian novel; how dangerous could it be? As his wife read it, she felt like she was reading her own story. She thought that if a clergyman’s daughter could write a novel where a woman left a bad man like that, why should she stay with one 150 years later? It gave her the strength to get away from the abuse, to walk out of the story written for her and write her own”.