BASKING IN BRONTE LAND

I first read Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte, in my early teens, and so enraptured was I over the story I told my mother I was ill one day so that I could stay home from school and finish the book. When Jane tells her audience  " Reader, I married him "  I nearly swooned with pleasure. In high school I was required to read Emily Bronte's  Wuthering Heights, but that book did not enthrall me, to put it mildly. I reread it a few times, hoping to understand not only what all the fuss was about but what the STORY was about. Cathy and Heathcliff - left me cold.

Late last summer I learned of a tour scheduled this spring to England to visit the homes of famous British authors, including the Bronte Parsonage in Haworth. This was an opportunity too good to pass up, so my husband and I quickly signed on.

During the long, cold winter, and on the advice of my daughter, a Bronte fan, I decided to acquaint myself with more of the Brontes' writing. I picked up Villette by Charlotte and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne at the second hand bookstore I volunteer at. I made it through Villette, a novel quite different in tone and structure from Jane Eyre, and while I can't say I loved it, the characters, from the meek and quiet Lucy Snowe, to the quirky little Polly, and the very mysterious M. Paul Emanuel,still resonate in my brain. And lastly, I made a trek to the local movie theater to see the newest Jane Eyre.

And then, a few weeks ago, we pulled up to the small town of Haworth, Great Britain and suddenly, these authors came to life for me. While visiting Haworth Parsonage, the home in which the family lived, we were treated to an excellent introduction by a lovely and quite nervous young lady (the woman who usually does the tours had laryngitis and so the student was called upon at the last minute to fill in), and learned of the sad, difficult but often joyous lives of the Brontes.   Their mother, Maria, had six children in as many years, dying very soon after the youngest, Anne, was born. Their father, Patrick, unable to care for all of the children, sent the first four, including Charlotte and Emily, off to a boarding school, only to yank them out after the two oldest daughters died from tuberculosis, very likely contracted due to the deplorable conditions of the school.

The four remaining children, the sisters Charlotte, Emily and Anne and the brother, Branwell, developed an intensely close bond, creating imaginary lands of Angria and Gondal, and writing stories for each others' enjoyment. The sisters would each night gather in the dining room and walk around the table, reading aloud to each other. Their books were published under assumed names and identities, with the general public believing the authors to be male.

Branwell was an extremely talented artist with a bent toward excess; he died at the age of 31 of alcoholism compounded by an addiction to opium.

Charlotte endured the deaths of her sisters, Emily in 1848 at age 30 and Anne in 1849 at age 29. We were told that each night she would continue the ritual of walking around the dining room table, reading aloud, but only to herself. Martha Brown, a servant at the parsonage, described it this way  " My heart aches to hear Miss Bronte walking, walking on alone."  At age 38 she married but died within 6 months from complications due to pregnancy. Her father outlived the entire family.

To walk about this house and trudge up the steep, cobblestoned streets of Haworth, to gaze out the window at the moors, the land that played such a role in Wuthering Heights, to visit the church where the family is buried, was one of the most affecting experiences of our trip.

Returning home, I was anxious to pick up The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, and I am happily reading this novel by the youngest Bronte sister, Anne, a book which caused quite a stir upon publication with its frank and honest treatment of an abusive relationship. My enjoyment of the novel is so much more than if I had never been to Haworth.

But one thing I can say with certainty - seeing the moors isn't inspiring me to reread Wuthering Heights - I draw the line at that!