Haworth village and church

Final round-up from Howarth.  I have had to rest up today as I have some sort of lurgy and just HAD to have a sofa day. I am hoping I can sleep it off (having slept for an hour at lunch time and another nap after tea).  Anyway, this is the walk up from the bottom of Haworth and the wonderfully atmospheric railway station.

Below: I couldn't resist a nod to my Devon roots!

Above : looking across the valley to what must have been cheap tenement housing in Victorian times. Below:  better housing came later.

The wonderful Apothecary's Shop close to the Black Bull Inn, and full of all sorts of delightful things to spend your money on.  I, meanwhile, was wondering how much they had paid to buy the fabulous old Chemists' jars and amazing mahogany Dispensary cabinet and drawers.  Those didn't come cheap!

The church - although the one standing in the Bronte's time was ripped down and rebuilt by the Vicar who followed Patrick Bronte.

A sad ending . . .

A thorny issue

Just a short note as I am absolutely exhausted, having spent the past 2 days cutting back the Paul's Himalayan Musk rambler rose which covers most of one end of the garden.  As it had gotten to the stage of starting to merge with the Kiftsgate coming the other way, and had 12 foot sprays of Brambles through it (AND some runners of Honeysuckle), action was needed.  The rose arbour needs some woodwork replaced too and we couldn't get to that without the pruning.  Anyway, below is "after" which also included cutting back half the Corkscrew Hazel tree - some was dead and one branch (to escape the rose smothering it) had grown forward 8 feet or so and needed cutting back too.  Now I shall have to replant beneath it, and put down some mulch.

A rather blurry photo of the lovely Torquay vase I found at the Boot Sale this morning, which is staying in my collection.

Finally, essential reading which I found in Booth's book shop in Hay-on-Wye when we were there on Friday.  We had taken some furniture to the auction at Brecon - only to find it was their busiest day of the month with a sheep auction and they couldn't take it.  We phoned the day before to check, but they never mentioned not to come on Friday!

More from the Bronte Museum

A posthumous portrait of Charlotte Bronte, painted by J H Thompson who was a friend of Branwell's and also a fellow pupil of William Robinson, who taught Branwell art.  As Thompson knew Charlotte in life, it would seem this might be a fair likeness of her.  It was based on a letter from Mrs Gaskell to Catherine Winkworth, where she described Charlotte as having "soft brown hair, eyes (very good and expressive looking straight and open at you) of the same colour."

Charlotte's paint box and contents.  All the children were interested in art from an early age, and from working in pencil they progressed to watercolours, which were their favourite medium.  This paint box can probably be dated to Charlotte's days at Roe Head School.

This is Charlotte's study of a Primrose, dating from around 1830.

Charlotte's writing slope (though it is called a writing desk in the Museum), and its contents. There was a quill, but by 1840 steel nibbed pens were being used and there are 114 steel nibs inside the slope. The tiny book in its red leather wallet is a Precept, Promise, &Prayer,from the Holy Scriptures, for every day of the year."  It was sold in Paternoster Row in London so it is possible that Charlotte purchased it on one of her visits to the city.

Two more of Branwell's portraits - note that on occasion J H Thompson finished paintings off for Branwell if he considered they weren't quite as they should be.  That sounds like Branwell's artistic talents were somewhat limited.

More effects from the household - Emily appears to have been the only one who was given a Christening cup (or perhaps, only hers survived).  The collars belong to Parsonage dogs - Emily's terrier Grasper perhaps, or Flossie, Ann's dog, and the biggest to Emily's dog Keeper, who was half Mastiff.

Another post tomorrow, if I have time (still gardening frantically whilst we have the weather for it).

Haworth and the Brontes

It is many - MANY - years since I was last here, the Bronte Parsonage Museum at Haworth in Yorkshire.  In fact, it was 1987 when I last visited, with our eldest daughter in a push-chair . . .  You may imagine I didn't have anything like long enough to wander round, especially as ma-in-law was sat in the car in the car park, thinking the whole visit was a waste of money, I don't doubt!  She had no literary bone in her body!

This time we had Tam's partner in tow - he also had no interest in the Brontes, so went for a walk, and had been told that I had no intention of sprinting round the Museum THIS time!

Above and below: the Dining Room, where the Bronte sisters did much of their writing.   From their juvenilia writing of tiny books, barely legible without a magnifying glass, their talent blossomed into such well-known and treasured classics as "Wuthering Heights",  "Jane Eyre" and "Agnes Grey".  They would read extracts from their work to each other as they walked around the table in late evening. 

Mr Bronte's study.  We must imagine him as a gaunt upright man, who chose to have no frills or fripperies and even in old age, would sit upright in a straight-backed chair, with no cushion for comfort.

The kitchen hearth, which the girls knew well as they helped Tabby Ackroyd, the Parsonage servant, to carry out chores.  A comforting place to be when the chill winds of winter wuthered around the house. Below - kitchen from a different angle.

I think I can just about read this: a pair of candelabra from Haworth Old Church and centre, pair of candlesticks from there too.

Going up the stairs, the grandfather clock from Bronte days - Patrick Bronte went up to bed promptly at 9 p.m. every night, stopping to wind this on the way.

The portrait of the Bronte sisters painted by their brother Branwell - he scrubbed out his likeness as he was unhappy with it.  As you can see, he had no great talent as an artist, despite being sent off to study art.  There were some portraits by him in another room, and they were no better either!  They were, one assumes, only commissioned because of familial contacts.  This is a copy - the original is in the National Portrait Gallery.  

I couldn't resist several photos of this modern and colourful quilt which dressed the bed in Patrick Bronte's bedroom.  All hand-pieced and beautifully made.

Above and below: dress and shoes worn by Charlotte Bronte after her marriage to Curate Arthur Bell Nicholls on their honeymoon, when they spent the first night in Conwy, and then crossed to Northern Ireland to meet his relations.

After the careful ordered rooms of the rest of the  Parsonage, Branwell's room was one the curators went to town on - gosh, he could have just left the room.  It was scruffy, chaotic and atmospheric.  Branwell died aged 31 in 1848, from addiction to Laudenum, Alchohol, and Opium and probably had underlying TB as well.  Wishing to show the power of the human will, he decided to die standing up . . .

More tomorrow.  Currently shattered after a day out in the garden, taking advantage of this lovely sunny weather.  I just hope we don't have a replay of last year when I could scarcely go outside for pollen of one kind or another.   So I am going flat out, bearing in mind that we have to have it all ship-shape and Bristol fashion a.s.a.p. to go back on the market.