Last year, I needed some cheering up and my mother, the incredible cannon-ball of a woman that she is. Decided to take me to Brontë land.
And by Brontë land, I do of course mean, the village of Haworth in Bradford, West Yorkshire.
It was a long drive up there, seven hours from the South Coast of England to the lifelong home of the Brontë sisters, but I can tell you now it was worth it.
LOOK AT THOSE MOORS!
Is it any surprise to anyone that the Brontë ladies were able to write such raw, wild stories when they had this kind of scenery to pull from?
Our main point of visiting (aside from walking through the glorious moors) was to visit the Brontë Parsonage Museum. The Museum is in fact the former Brontë home, it’s where the sisters lived for the majority of their short lives. It has changed a little since they lived their of course, but the Brontë Society have done their best to keep the house as authentic as possible.
The stone house itself is picturesque, surrounded by flowers and bushes. The house overlooks the church where Patrick Brontë was a pastor, and the graveyard that surrounds it.
My mum and I were able to see the living room space where the sisters would discuss ideas for their novels, and were able to view letters written in their own hand and some of the first published editions of their books. It was incredible to walk through the home of some of the first successful female English authors, and to see where they worked. Yet, interestingly it was Branwell’s room that had some of the strongest impact.
Branwell Brontë is not as well known as his famous sisters. But he too dabbled in the arts, at first poetry and then later, painting. Branwell became dependent on alcohol and opium at some point in his life, and his bedroom in the museum is organised to look how it would have when he was alive. Walking through his darkened bedroom, through the mess and chaos of his books across the floor – is an eerie and surreal experience.
And then there is Branwell’s family portrait where he has tried to erase his own image – the overall effect is quite haunting.
It’s no secret that the Brontë family led quite tragic lives, all of them dying young, Charlotte Brontë was the eldest of her siblings and the last to pass away at 39, while their father Patrick, sadly, outlived them all. It makes it even more impressive then, that they were able to have such a huge and lasting impact on English literature, in the short space of time that they were here.
In England, in the little town of Haworth, the Brontë sisters are not only famous, but remembered every single day. The village is named after them, and across the moors there are signposts to follow ‘The Brontë Path’ or to find the waterfall and the ‘Brontë chair.’
I fell in love with Jane Eyre when I first read it at 19, and it was remarkable for me to visit the place where the Brontë sisters lived, wrote and dreamed. In all honesty, I didn’t expect it to be so quaint or so beautiful, and I am very grateful to my mother for taking me. (I would have put up a photo of the two of us together, but my mum hates having her photo taken, and I did not wish to risk the wrath of being strangled by her neck scarf should I go against her wishes.)
Overall it was a lovely trip, and I learnt quite a bit! If you love the Brontë Sisters it’s well worth a visit. Or even if you just enjoy long walks across long stretches of countryside! My mum and I drove across a lot of Bradford soaking in the sights, during these drives the only music I permitted was Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights, which pleased my mother no end.
And on that note.
HEATHCLIFFE, IT’S ME IT’S CATHY I’VE COME HOOOMMMEE….
The Talking Bookshelf 