Above and below —— head and shoulder details from a ‘signed’ portrait of Queen Victoria; ‘signed’ as in the clue’s embedded in the title “The Ingeniiousness of Charlotte Brontë’s Lasting Impression of Queen Victoria.” —— and is yet another example of Charlotte Brontë spelling it out. . .

In 1839, soon after Queen Victoria proposed to Prince Albert —— Her Majesty commissioned Sir William Charles Ross, Royal Academician and miniaturist to the Queen —— to paint ‘his & hers’ portraits; hers to be given as a love-token to her dearly betrothed on the 10th. February 1840 —— the royal couple’s Wedding Day, whilst Prince Albert’s handsome likeness was for keeps. . .

Meanwhile, in a remote parsonage in Haworth, a pair of pet geese were named ‘Victoria’ and ‘Adelaide’ —— ‘Adelaide’ in honour of the Queen’s much loved and trusted Aunt.

Who’d have thought that five years after Queen Victoria’s Coronation in 1838, Charlotte Brontë would be in exactly the right place at the right time —— to catch a fleeting glimpse of the very woman that would later go on to read ‘Jane Eyre’ aloud to her handsome Prince!

Their paths initially crossed on the ‘Rue Royale’, in 1843. Charlotte was in her second year at the Pensionnat Héger in Brussels – whilst the Queen was visiting her Uncle, King Leopold I of Belgium.

Keeping these happenstances in mind, it’s become empirically evident to me that no matter how fleetingly the Queen sped by in her “carriage and six” —— she left a long-lasting impression on one particular face in the crowd that day ——  Monday, 18th September 1843. . .

It reads “Charlotte Brontë drawn by M? Héger 1842″In 1842,  Charlotte was in her first year at the Pensionnat Héger in Brussels; I don’t profess to know whose writing it is on the back but I’m pretty certain that the other side is a self-portrait. . .

In 1837 —— the year of Queen Victoria’s accession to the throne, Charlotte, Emily and Anne were aged twenty-one, nineteen, and seventeen respectively —— Charlotte being the Queen’s senior by three years; in age —— if not by birth, they were peers. And although The Parsonage was far removed from the trappings and excesses of a royal court, the young Brontës’ super-charged imaginations were as flying carpets, transporting the three Sisters and their brother, Branwell —— faraway from the drear that was growing up in early 19th century Haworth to their own exotic kingdoms where sibling power ruled the day! They were Brannii (Branwell), Tallii (Charlotte), Emmii (Emily) and Annii (Anne) —— the four presiding ‘Genii’.  As well as acting out their elaborate war games and fantastical flights of fancy, they even put ‘Angria’ and ‘Gondal’ on the map! —— and created in minutest detail the most extraordinary written journals that were made to imitate print. The Brontës’ juvenilia was something that continued into adulthood; in fact it’s true to say that in literary terms they never completely shut the lid on the twelve toy soldiers that famously served as a trigger for their imaginations. In the words of Charlotte, this is the moment in June 1826 —— when the toy soldiers came to life: “I snatched one up and exclaimed, ‘this is the Duke of Wellington! It shall be mine!’ Emily’s was a grave looking fellow. We called him Gravey. Anne’s was a queer little thing much like herself. He was called Waiting Boy. Branwell chose Bonaparte.” The toy soldiers were a gift from Rev’d Brontë to Branwell —— who duly shared them with his eager Sisters; in essence the soldiers acted as a vanguard for the invention of a whole raft of other more sophisticated, often titled characters. Some were entirely made-up —— whilst others were borrowed and re-imagined from life; from literature, from the Napoleonic Wars, even a couple of great explorers! So I think it’s perfectly plausible that Charlotte created a portrait of a figurehead Genii; in fact, it all fits as deftly as the ‘pattern’ or ‘signature’ in Queen Victoria’s lace! 

Many of the portraits listed in ‘The Art of The Brontës’ —— are portraits of characters drawn from the Brontës’ juvenilia; in that sense, it doubles as a who’s who in Angria and Gondal! Jane Sellars, joint author of ‘The Art of the Brontës’ writes separately in an article in ‘Brontë Studies’:“One of the most significant features of the Brontës’ attitude to their drawing is the way in which they integrated their visual art with their writing, something that begins, as so much else did, with the juvenilia.” Excerpt from ‘THE ARTIST IN HER STUDIO: THE INFLUENCE OF THE BRONTËS ON WOMEN ARTISTS’ By Jane Sellars  Brontë Studies, Vol. 30, November 2005.

So what I’m saying is —— just as the Brontës “integrated their visual art with their writing” – then why not their writing with their visual art? Just the odd word or sentiment slipped in here or there, so as not to ‘notice’; most specifically it’s a Charlotte trait that I’ve pre-explained here: http://somethingaboutdartmoor.com/2020/05/02/spelling-it-out-the-art-of-steganography-in-the-art-of-charlotte-bronte/ 

It’s known that Charlotte wrote home to eagerly awaiting Emily, about her brush with royalty on the Rue Royale in Brussels. . .

“You ask about Queen Victoria‘s visit to Brussels. I saw her for an instant flashing through the Rue Royale in a carriage and six, surrounded by soldiers. She was laughing and talking very gaily. She looked a little stout, vivacious lady, very plainly dressed, not much dignity or pretension about her. The Belgians liked her very well on the whole. They said she enlivened the sombre court of King Leopold, which is usually as gloomy as a conventicle. . .”

So it figures that Charlotte created a more lasting impression on thin ‘J Whatman’ card —— inspired by Ross’s original. . .

The only obvious deviation from Sir William Ross’s original miniature, is that Victoria’s dress has been changed from regal red to ‘Anne’ blue —— as in Charlotte usually reserved this particular shade for portrait’s of her beloved youngest sister, Anne. Otherwise, it’s a faithful copy —— right down to the detail of Queen Victoria’s glass locket that contained a lock of Prince Albert’s hair. . . The change of dress colour can easily be explained —— as in the ‘blue version’ is copied from a monochrome steel engraving published in 1840. In 1843, Charlotte wouldn’t have been privy to the fact that Queen Victoria’s dress in Ross’s original miniature is red; that was for Prince Albert’s eye’s only! See also, lithograph in the National Portrait Gallery collection published in 1840, here.

It’s evident over four pages in ‘The Art of The Brontës’ by Christine Alexander and Jane Sellars —— that the intricacies or workings of lace and embroidery patterns held a particular fascination for Charlotte Brontē; she produced several fine ink and pencil studies on paper of cuffs and collars.  

When comparing Charlotte’s meticulous lace and embroidery studies in ‘The Art of the Brontës’ (above) —— with the execution of the shoulder lace in the watercolour of Queen Victoria (below), one immediately notices a significant but deliberate difference in ‘meticulousness’. . .

As shown, this emboldened yet seemingly oblique group of ‘dots, dashes and spaces’ are another example of Charlotte Brontë’s stegonagraphic style; ‘concealed’ words and sentiments —— even monograms —— ingeniously embedded as patterns in lace, folds in drapery, initials in curls of hair —— even in pupils. . .

And if dear Reader you’re not yet won over by Charlotte’s artistic sleight of hand —— or think that it’s a trait only peculiar to unauthenticated portraits in private collections —— then you’re jolly well mistaken! 

Firstly, there’s an earlier post dedicated to explaining the not so plain facts about these previously undetected nuances in Charlotte’s art —— and is essential reading HERE. And secondly —— or should I say, double firstly, there’s a prime, triple exposé contained in an illustrated letter from Charlotte to her best friend or best ‘kindred’, Ellen Nussey. . .

The original letter is in the Brontë Parsonage Museum’s own collection in Haworth —— and confirms that my theory about Charlotte Brontë’s use of 19th century ‘WordArt’ is correct. . . 

So it’s in exactly the same deliberately oblique style as Ellen’s hemline, that Charlotte saw fit to customize her blue-blooded kindred’s lace with an honorary title; ‘GENII’.

Another giveaway trait are these grey-coloured ‘lines’ on either side of the portrait. . .

They are very difficult to capture but Charlotte’s ‘lines’ are in fact columns of grey-coloured numbers. They are rather like shadowy watermarks but if you look carefully and accustom your eyes first —— you may be able to figure some out??? My experience is that it’s actually better to keep an image on the small side and use a magnifying glass for ‘easier’ detection, as the bigger the image the more diffused these tiny details become! Another common denominator between ‘Queen Victoria Re-imagined’ —— and above left, a watercolour version of the pencil ‘Bonnet Portrait’ that I attribute to Charlotte’s hand also —— is that both portraits have neatly pencil ruled edges; to see —— simply click on the image to enlarge in a new window. It’s almost like they have been cut from the same sheet of ‘J Whatman’ thin card! 

My next ‘planned’ post will introduce a ‘new’ ‘Bonnet Portrait’ (below centre) —— that isn’t a version that I attribute to Charlotte’s hand. It clearly bears the recognisable signature of a listed artist who flourished at the very time the Brontës were alive and publishing their novels. My posts aren’t ‘planned’ only guided by the ‘lost’ artworks themselves —— as and when they come to light; I believe that they possess their own agenda —— order. 

Meantime. . .

Thanks to Gaz! —— and to my e-penpal ‘Dear John’! —— for their permanent loan; I love old things —— just imagine the stories they could tell if only they could talk. . .

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