I ask Jenny [Hill, lead curator] to tell me how the cotton mill owner got hold of a folio in the first place. Jenny grins at her colleague Charlotte [Craig]. One theory is that it came from nearby Ponden Hall. Ponden had one of the largest private libraries not just in the West Riding, but in the whole of Europe. Charlotte has a theory about some of Ponden Hall’s close neighbours who might have used their library.
“Well, Ponden Hall is just two or three miles across the moors from Haworth.”
“Oh, no!” I gasp “From Haworth Parsonage, where the Brontë sisters lived?”
“That’s right,’ says Charlotte. “I used to work there.”
“Are you saying that the Brontë sisters might have read this copy of the First Folio?”
“We know they used to borrow books from Ponden Hall. But I can’t prove they read this folio.”
“Just say it!” I explode. “Let somebody else disprove it. Oh, that is fantastic. What about that!”
James smiles wryly. He thinks I’m mad. Jenny and Charlotte very kindly took the folio out of its case and carried it upstairs for me to examine more closely. While they were doing so, I did a bit of research. I remembered a reference to a letter Charlotte Brontë had written to a school friend about Shakespeare. By the time Jenny and Charlotte had laid out the folio upstairs, I had found the letter online.
Jenny points out that the folio is missing quite a few pages, and doesn’t have any of the Comedies. So I tell them about Charlotte’s letter dated 4 July 1834, to Ellen Nussey. “Ellen was her best friend at school,” Charlotte interjects.
“If you like poetry let it be first rate, Milton, Shakespeare, Thomson, Goldsmith, Pope (if you will though I don’t admire him), Scott, Byron, Campbell, Wordsworth and Southey. Now Ellen don’t be startled at the names of Shakespeare, and Byron. Both these were great men and their works are like themselves. You will know how to choose the good and avoid the evil, the finest passages are always the purest, the bad are invariably revolting you will never wish to read them over twice. Omit the comedies of Shakespeare.”
Omit the comedies of Shakespeare. And the Skipton copy has no comedies.
“Perhaps Charlotte ripped them out,” Jenny laughs.
“This just gets better and better,” I say. “Charlotte, you’ve got to get this story out there.”
Once we have all calmed down a little, I tell Jenny that despite its now even more fascinating history, I think it might be the grubbiest copy of the First Folio I have ever seen. “Could you not say ‘grubbiest,’” Jenny grins. “Could you perhaps say ‘well-loved’?”
The well-thumbed Skipton copy has become one of my very favourite copies of the First Folio, whether or not anyone can prove that the Brontë sisters ever read it.
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