Monday, May 28, 2012

Monday, May 28, 2012 8:59 am by Cristina   1 comment
Picture source
On a day like today in 1849 Anne Brontë died in Scarborough, a place she loved, where she was buried.

The headstone chosen and 'revised' (a mistake still remains) by Charlotte is finally crumbling to pieces,. The text is not-so-slowly being erased and he headstone will sooner or later be in such a state as those surrounding Anne's grave. The Brontë Society have now placed a plaque displaying the text and telling visitors about Anne's actual age.

We like to think that in these 163 years since her death, Anne Brontë's reputation as a writer has undergone as many changes as her resting place: there used to be iron railings around it which were removed in World War Two; there used to be a border made of bricks which was removed in order to bring the grave closer to the spot Charlotte would have known and visited; the headstone used to be readable, carefully looked after by the Brontë Society and now there is this new plaque. The look of the place changes but she is still down there much like approaches to her work change (and fortunately it looks like more people are starting to appreciate them) but her honest words remain the same. The rest is all on the surface.

EDIT: Edwin Stockdale contributes with this poem to the anniversary:

St. Mary’s Church, Scarborough
This churchyard is scattered
with grains of sand
blown from the beach below.

Edward and Agnes stroll
up the hill. He takes her arm,
the sea a splash of kingfisher.

In a quiet corner nestles the headstone
overlooked by the castle
perched on the hill.

Anne stands on the front
feeling sand between her toes,
sea breezes cup her sunken cheeks.

Breakers sound as her wheezing breath.
She watches the brilliant sunset,
the sea violet.

Readersforum's Blog, Today in Literature and Carole's Chatter join in the remembrance.

1 comment:

  1. I appreciate this post and like the poem.