I Cried My Eyes Out at Charlotte Brontë's Home

I’ve always loved Jane Eyre. I thought she was wonderful, kind, independent, smart, talented, and brave. I read the book and watched the BBC movie and thought about what it would be like to live on those moors, with all the open space and the huge, dimly lit stone house. When I went to Northern England, I saw the same things Charlotte Brontë did. I saw the same streets, the same trees, the same moss and I, Aliana Schaeffer, stood in that woman’s very home, where she walked and lived and ate and laughed and I stood in the same room where she sat down and wrote, by hand, (because there weren’t lovely things like laptops yet), my most favourite book in the world. How could I not cry?

I may not love camping, but I love nature. I love finding caterpillars and worms and I love waterfalls more than most things. I love being in places I feel fairies would be and I collect rocks, not so much because I like or want to, but because I feel an irresistible urge to have them and hold them that I can’t ignore. I love beautiful places because they inspire the part of me that loves to write, that also feels the uncontrollable draw to write and I can’t ignore it. The best feeling in the world is having so many words inside you and being able to put them on paper, being able to have them spill from your fingertips with no hesitation. I cannot define me without saying I love to write. It’s been a part of me as soon as I learned how, and it was an amazing experience to look at these picturesque, divine places, and see the same things that brilliant authors like the Brontë sisters and Beatrix Potter saw, and to maybe be inspired in a similar way.

The most I know about Ms. Beatrix Potter is from the film, Ms. Potter. I watched it sometime in high school when I was sick and I gained a much deeper appreciation and admiration for her and her books. She loved nature and she thought it was important. She bought her farm to protect and preserve it. Her illustrations and stories are wonderful. They brought life and personality to little animals and I think it’s very special for someone to be able to see that, all on their own. I also consider children’s books to be just as important as books written for adults. If there were no children’s books, children wouldn’t learn to read and they wouldn’t grow to love it. Not everyone can be like Matilda, reading Crime and Punishment at the age of 7, even though that would be quite wonderful. Reading is the greatest ammunition for writing and I believe literature is one of the most important and best gifts you can give to children. Adults can be cruel to children because they grow up and they forget what it was like to be a child. The most remarkable people are ones like Roald Dahl, who can remember. It was wonderful to see Ms. Potter’s little house on her farm and to imagine her being there, walking outside and noticing the rabbits.

Fountains Abbey was another cause for awe and wonder. It was spacious and carpeted with grass and the ceiling was the sky. We were there during the day, when the sun turned the grass an emerald green and cast long shadows, but can you imagine being there at night? Just like the Great Hall, the ceiling would turn to stars and it wouldn’t be a window, covered with a pane of glass, and it wouldn’t be a projection. An artist I learned about this last semester is James Turrell. He works with light and space and my teacher told me about an art piece he saw of his one time. He was in a room, and on the ceiling was a bright blue projection. My teacher, however, could not figure out where the projection was coming from because he could not see a projector anywhere in the room. My teacher said he did not figure out how this bright blue square was existing until he saw a bird fly by and realized it wasn’t a projection at all, but a meticulously cut square out of the ceiling and he was, in fact, looking at the sky. Fountains Abbey reminded me of this art piece. I think it is so important to constantly have the “art lens” on. Right away in my first semester at BYU I learned that true artists don’t have the artist mentality that they turn on and off, but that it transforms their life and they are constantly seeking inspiration for their art. Over the past two years, I have noticed it has also transformed my life. I see things that remind me of art or could potentially help me in my art practice in my ordinary life. It is especially amazing to see places like Fountains Abbey, so grand and unavoidably beautiful, and to see them through that lens.

Overall, I still could’ve just seen Charlotte Brontë’s home and neighbourhood and been completely happy. Being there was one of the most valuable and surreal experiences of the entire study abroad. I knew we were going to go and I thought I was going to cry, but on the bus ride there I wasn’t feeling particularly fragile and thought maybe I wouldn’t cry after all. However, as soon as I stepped foot into that first drawing room where the sisters would write, I cried. I didn’t stop until I walked out of the house. Charlotte Brontë will never know who I am, but she, without exaggeration, changed my life. I am certain she has changed many others’ as well, and I’m sure Emily and Anne have done the same, along with Beatrix Potter. They saw the picturesque and the sublime and they wrote about it, and I have never felt closer to these women than I did on the trip to Northern England, where I saw the same beauty and natural wonder they did. The only word I can describe this trip in is a gift.

A sketch of Charlotte Brontë's dress.