Hugh Bronte and his wife could not live wholly on love in a cottage,
and Hugh had to bestir himself. He was an unskilled laborer, but he
understood the art of burning lime. There was no limestone, however,
in that part of County Down to burn, and as he could not have a
lime-kiln, he resolved to have a corn-kiln.
At the beginning of this century a corn-kiln in such a district in
Ireland was a very simple affair. A floor of earthenware tiles,
pierced nearly through from the underside, was arranged on a kind of
platform or loft. Beneath there was a furnace, which was heated by
burning the rough, dry seeds, or outer _shelling_, ground off the
oats. In front of the furnace there was a hollow, called "the
logie-hole," in which the kiln man sat, with the shelling or seeds
heaped up within arm's length around him, and with his right hand he
_beeked_ the kiln, by throwing, every few seconds, a sprinkling of
seeds on the flame. In this way he kept up a warm glow under the corn
till it was sufficiently dried for the mill.
Such was the simple character of the ordinary corn-kiln in County Down
at the beginning of the century. But I have been assured by the old
men of the neighborhood that Hugh Bronte's kiln was of a still more
primitive structure. The platform, or corn-floor, was constructed by
laying iron bars across unhewn stones set up on end. On these bars
straw matting was spread, and on the matting the corn was placed to
dry. Such a structure was the immediate precursor of the pottery
floored kiln. The design was the same in both, but the matting was
always liable to catch fire, and required careful attention.
The kiln was erected in the part of the Bronte cottage now roofless,
and, like the cottage itself, must have been a very humble affair. It
has been suggested that the kiln may have stood elsewhere, but it is
now established beyond all doubt, on the unanimous testimony of the
inhabitants, that the Bronte kiln stood in the ruined room of the
Bronte cottage, and, in fact, it is known by the name of "the Brontes'
kiln."
Within those walls, now roofless, the grandfather of Charlotte Bronte
began in 1776 to earn the daily bread of himself and his bride, by
roasting his neighbors' oats. His wage was known by the name of
"muther," and consisted of so many pounds of fresh oats taken from
every hundredweight brought to him to be kiln-dried. The miller, too,
was paid in kind, but his muther was taken by measure, after the
shelling, or seeds, had been ground off the grain.
When Hugh Bronte had accumulated a sackful of muther he dried it on
his kiln, took it to the mill, and paid his muther in turn to the
miller, to have it ground into meal.
The meal, when taken home, was stored in a barrel, and with the
produce of the rood of potatoes which Hugh had _sod_ on his
brother-in-law's farm, became the food of himself and family. As the
Brontes could not consume all the muther themselves, the surplus would
be sold to provide clothing and other necessaries, and though there
remains no trace of pig-stye or fowl-house, there can be little doubt
that Mrs. Bronte would have both pigs and fowl to eke out her
husband's earnings.
Mrs. Bronte was a famous spinner, and she handed down the art to her
daughters. She had always a couple of sheep grazing on her brother's
land. She carded and span the wool, her spinning-wheel singing all day
beside her husband, as he beeked the kiln. Then, during the long, dark
evenings, when they had no light but the red eye of the kiln, she
knitted the yarn into hose and vest and shirt, and even head-gear, so
that Hugh Bronte, like his sons in after years, was almost wholly clad
in "homespun."
This, probably, had something to do with the general impression, which
still remains in the neighborhood, of the stately and shapely forms of
the Bronte men and women. The knitted woollen garments fitted close,
unlike the fantastic and shapeless habiliments that came from the
hands of local tailors in those days.
Alice Bronte also span nearly all the garments which she wore, and her
tall and comely daughters after her were dressed in clothes which
their own hands had taken from the fleece.
On principle, as well as from necessity, the Brontes wore woollen
garments, and the vicar carried the same taste with him to England,
where his dislike of everything made of cotton was attributed by his
biographer to dread of fire. The absurd servants' gossip as to his
cutting up his wife's silk gown had possibly a grain of truth in it,
owing to his preference for woollen garments; but the atrocity spun
out of the gossip by Mrs. Gaskell was probably an exaggeration of an
innocent act. At any rate, the old man characterized the statement, I
believe truly, by a small but ugly word.
All the Brontes, father, mother, sons, and daughters, to the number of
twelve, were clad in wool, and they were the healthiest, handsomest,
strongest, heartiest family in the whole country. They were a standing
proof of the excellency of the woollen theory, and it is interesting
to note how Hugh Bronte's theory and practice have received approval
in our own day. For a time the Brontes had to look to others to weave
their yarn into the blankets and friezes that they required, but
Patrick was taught to weave as soon as he was able to throw the
shuttle and roll the beam, and then his father's house manufactured
for themselves everything they wore, from the raw staple to the
gracefully fitting corset.
Even the scarlet mantle for which "Ayles" Bronte is still remembered
in Ballynaskeagh was carded, spun, knitted, and dyed by Mrs. Bronte's
own hands. The spirit of independence manifested by the Brontes in
England was a survival of a still sturdier spirit that had had its
origin in one of the humblest cabins in County Down.
As time passed Hugh Bronte became a famous ditcher. There is a very
old man called Hugh Norton, living in Ballynaskeagh, who remembers him
making fences and philosophizing at the same time. It is very probable
that the introduction of corn-kilns constructed of burnt pottery may
have left him without custom for his straw-mat kiln, just as the
introduction of machinery at a later period left the country
hand-looms idle.
In Hugh Bronte's time more careful attention began to be given to the
land. Bogs were drained, fields fenced, roads constructed, bridges
made, houses built, with greater energy than had ever been known
before, and, although the landlord generally raised the rent on every
improvement effected by the tenant, the wave of prosperity and
improvement continued. Hugh Bronte was a good, steady workman, and
found constant employment, and at that time wages rose from sixpence
per day to eightpence and tenpence. The sod fences made by him still
stand as a monument of honest work, and there are few country
districts where huntsmen would find greater difficulty with the fences
than in Emdale and Ballynaskeagh.
As Hugh Bronte advanced in life he continued to prosper. He removed
from the Emdale cottage to a larger house in Lisnacreevy, and from
thence he and his family went home to live with Red Paddy, Mrs.
Bronte's brother. On the Ballynaskeagh farm the children found full
scope for their energies, and they continued to prosper and purchase
surrounding farms until they were in very comfortable circumstances.
The Brontes were greatly advanced in their prosperity by a discovery
made by one of their countrymen. John Loudon Macadam was a County Down
surveyor. He wrote several treatises on road-making of a revolutionary
character. His proposal was to make roads by laying down layers of
broken stones, which he said would become hardened into a solid mass
by the traffic passing over them.
For a time he was the subject of much ridicule, but he persevered, and
proved his theory in a practical fashion. The importance of the
invention was acknowledged by a grant from the government of ten
thousand pounds, which he accepted, and by the offer of a baronetcy,
which he declined. He lived to see the world's highways improved by
his discovery, and the English language enriched by his name.
The old, unscientific road-makers were too conservative to engage in
the construction of _macadamized_ roads, but the Brontes were shrewd
enough to see the value of the new method, and they tendered for
county contracts, and their tenders were accepted. Then the way to
fortune lay open before them. They opened quarries on their own land,
where they found an inexhaustible supply of stone, easily broken to
the required size. With suitable stone ready to their hands they had a
great advantage over all rivals, and for a generation the macadamizing
of the roads in the neighborhood was practically a monopoly in the
Bronte family.
I remember the excellent carts and horses employed by the Brontes on
the road, and I also distinctly recollect that the names painted on
the carts were spelled "Bronte," the pronunciation being "Bronte,"
never "Prunty," as has been alleged.
With the lucrative monopoly of road-making added to their farm profits
the Brontes grew in wealth. They raised on their farm the oats and
fodder required by the horses, and, as the brothers did a large amount
of the work themselves and had nothing to purchase, the money received
for road-making was nearly all profit.
In those days the Brontes added field to field, until they farmed a
considerable tract of land, which they held from a model landlord
called Sharman Crawford. That was the period at which a two-storied
house was built, and there were houses occupied by the Brontes, from
the two-storied house down to the thatched cottage. In fact, the house
of Red Paddy McClory, in which Alice was born and reared, stood about
half-way between the two-storied house and the cabin. The foundations
of the house in which Charlotte Bronte's Irish grandmother was born
are still visible.
Shortly after the death of old Hugh, and in the time of the Bronte
prosperity, one of the brothers, called Welsh, opened a public-house
in the thatched cabin referred to, and from that moment, as far as I
have been able to make out, the tide of the Bronte prosperity turned.
Everything the Brontes did was genuine. Their whiskey was as good in
quality as their roads, and I fear it must be added that they were
among the heartiest customers for their own commodities. They ceased
to work on the roads, their hard-earned money slipped through their
fingers, and the public-house became the meeting-place for the fast
and wild youth of the locality.
Then another brother, called William, but known as Billy, opened on
the Knock Hill another public-house, which also became a centre of
demoralization to the young men of the district, and a source of
degradation to the keeper. I remember both these pests in full force.
They were much frequented by Orangemen, who, when tired playing "The
Protestant Boys," used to slake their thirst and fire their hatred of
the _Papishes_ by drinking Bronte's whiskey.
I am bound to say distinctly that I do not believe any of Charlotte
Bronte's Irish uncles ever became confirmed drunkards. They took to
the drink business too late in life to be wholly overmastered by the
passion for alcohol. Besides, their father's example, and the
industrious habits of their youth and early manhood, had combined to
give moral fibre to the stubborn Bronte character, which saved them
from precipitate descent on the down grade.
I never saw any of the Brontes drunk, and I believe the occasional
drinking of the family was limited to the two brothers who sold drink,
and who would always feel bound in honor "to taste a drop" with their
customers. The other brothers would drink like other people, in fairs
and markets, where every transaction was ratified by a glass of grog,
but I do not believe they often drank to excess.
In those days everybody drank. At births, at baptisms, at weddings, at
wakes, at funerals, and in all the other leading incidents of life,
intoxicating liquors were considered indispensable. If a man was too
hot he drank, and if he was too cold he drank. He drank if he was in
sorrow, and he drank when in joy. When his gains were great he drank,
and he drank also when crushed by losses. The symbol of universal
hospitality was the black bottle.
Ministers of the Gospel used to visit their people quarterly. On these
visitations the minister was accompanied by one of his deacons. Into
whatever house they entered they were immediately met by the
hospitable bottle and two glasses, and they were always expected to
fortify themselves with spirituous draughts before beginning their
spiritual duties. As the visitors called at from twelve to twenty
houses on their rounds, they must have been "unco fou" by the close of
the day.
It is interesting to remember that when the drinking habits of the
country were at their height the temperance reformation was begun in
Great Britain, by the best friend the Brontes had, the Reverend David
McKee. It is of still greater interest, in our present investigation,
to know that Mr. McKee was moved to the action which has resulted in
the great temperance reform by the Bronte public-houses at his door,
and by the demoralization they were creating.
The little incident which has led to such momentous results came about
in this way: the Reverend David McKee of Ballynaskeagh was the
minister of the Presbyterian Church of Anaghlone. He had built his
church, and he was largely independent of his congregation. One
Sunday he thought fit to preach on _The Rechabites_. In the sermon he
ridiculed and denounced the drinking habits of the time. The sermon
fell on the congregation like a thunderbolt from a cloudless sky.
Blank amazement in the audience was succeeded by hot indignation.
On the following morning an angry deputation from the congregation
waited on Mr. McKee. He listened to them with patient courtesy while
they urged that the sermon should be immediately burnt, and that an
apology should be tendered to the congregation on the following
Sunday.
When the deputation had exhausted themselves and their subject, Mr.
McKee began quietly to draw attention to the happy homes which had
been desolated by whiskey, the brilliant young men whom it had ruined,
the amiable neighbors whom it had hurried into drunkards' graves, and
then he pointed to the Brontes as an example of the baneful influence
of the trade on the sellers of the stuff themselves.
The deputation, some of them Orangemen, were in no mood to listen to
radical doctrines, subversive of their time-honored customs, and they
began to threaten.
Mr. McKee, who was six feet six inches high, and of great muscular
power, drew himself up to his full stature, and calling to his
servant, then at breakfast in the kitchen, told him to saddle his best
mare, as he wished to ride in haste to Newry, to publish his sermon in
time for circulation on the following Sunday. Then, turning to the
deputation, he thanked them for their early visit, which he hoped
would bear fruit, and bowed them out of his parlor.
He rode the best horse in the whole district, and he never drew rein
till he reached the printing-office in Newry, and he had the sermon
ready for circulation on the following Sunday, and handed it to his
people as they retired.
In 1798 Mr. McKee, then a youth, watched from a hill in his father's
land the battle of Ballynahinch. He had in his arms at the time a
little nephew who had been left in his charge. The little nephew
became the great Doctor Edgar of Belfast, who used to boast playfully
that he was "up in arms" at the battle of Ballynahinch.
Mr. McKee sent a copy of _The Rechabites_ to his eloquent nephew.
Doctor Edgar read the sermon, and then, rising from his seat,
proceeded swiftly to carry all the whiskey he had in the house into
the street, and empty it into the gutter. With that drink offering
Doctor Edgar inaugurated the great temperance reform. From Ireland he
passed to Scotland, and from Scotland to England. The whole kingdom
was mightily stirred, and the temperance cause has ever since
continued to flourish. The little seed, stimulated at first by the
Bronte public-houses, has become a great tree, the branches of which
extend to all lands.
We have now seen the Brontes in the daily round of their common
pursuits. In the next chapter we hope to see old Hugh in the light of
his Bronte genius.