The Villages of Great and Little Ouseburn—the Forgotten Stops on the Brontë Trail

By Finola Austin

If Yorkshire is known as “Brontë Country,” then Haworth, home of the Brontë Parsonage Museum, is the nation’s undisputed capital. It was here that celebrated Victorian novelists Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Brontë lived out most of their short lives. It was here that they sat together around one table writing their acclaimed books, including Charlotte’s Jane Eyre (1847) and Emily’s Wuthering Heights (also, 1847). But, while Brontë-driven tourism is now the lifeblood of the village, Haworth isn’t the only town with compelling links to literature’s most famous family.

Dedicated Brontë fans seeking to walk in the siblings’ footsteps may also visit the seaside town of Scarborough, where Anne died and was interred (she’s the only Brontë not buried in the family tomb in Haworth), and Thornton, birthplace of the sisters and their brother, Branwell. As far afield as Brussels, it was just announced that a square would be named for the “Soeurs Brontë” or “Zusters Brontëplein,” due to Charlotte and Emily’s links to the city.

But there’s another pair of Yorkshire villages that deserve to be included in the Brontë trail—Great and Little Ouseburn, near York.

Anne Brontë came to the area in 1840 when she was employed as a governess by the Robinson family of Thorp Green Hall, a fine house just outside Little Ouseburn. Branwell followed less than three years later to become the Robinson son’s tutor. Anne and Branwell continued in the family’s employ until the summer of 1845, when their sojourn there ended in scandal. Branwell had apparently entered into a sexual affair with Mrs. Lydia Robinson, a woman eighteen years his senior. He returned to Haworth a broken man, and drowned his sorrows with alcohol and opium. By 1849, he, Anne, and Emily were all dead. Charlotte’s death would follow in 1855.

While Thorp Green Hall itself no longer survives, there are multiple places of interest to history buffs in search of Brontë lore in and around Great and Little Ouseburn. Here are a few:

Queen Ethelburga’s Collegiate

It has been widely reported that Thorp Green Hall itself burned down in the late nineteenth century, although local historian Helier Hibbs challenged this assumption in 2007. Either way, the ‘new’ hall, known as Thorpe Underwood, was built in the early 1900s. This building is now home to a school—Queen Ethelburga’s Collegiate. While the grounds look different than they did in the Brontës’ day (the school for instance filled in the stew pond a few years ago), walking from Little Ouseburn to the school via country lanes, you could be excused for thinking you were stepping back in time. 

Monk's House

Monk’s House

Branwell, unlike Anne, didn’t sleep in Thorp Green Hall, but in an outbuilding known as the “Monk’s House” (or, less often, the “Monk’s Lodge”). This beautiful Tudor home is now a private residence, adjacent to Queen Ethelburga’s and visible from the main road.

Holy Trinity

Holy Trinity Church, Little Ouseburn

The Robinsons’ local church will be familiar to some Brontë fans from a sketch of it made by Anne, although renovations made in the late nineteenth century altered the building. Those in search of Brontë history will also find several graves of interest. Edmund Robinson (Lydia’s husband) is buried here, along with his parents and sister. So too are Edmund Robinson, junior (known as Ned), who was Branwell’s pupil, and Georgiana Robinson, the youngest child of the house, who died while Anne lived at Thorp Green, prior to the Brontë brother’s arrival. The most distinctive feature of the churchyard, a beautiful mausoleum, houses the remains of the Thompson family—neighbors of the Robinsons. 

Dr Crosby's Obelisk

St Mary’s, Great Ouseburn

The church in Great Ouseburn is also worth visiting for its links to Brontë history. A tablet in the church and a towering obelisk in the graveyard both memorialize one Dr. John Crosby, who was said to have acted as go-between for Lydia and Branwell, following the latter’s dismissal. You’ll also see a plaque for Jane Robinson, Edmund’s aunt, who was instrumental in arranging his match with Lydia.

Rosehurst

Rosehurst

In Great Ouseburn, there is a red-brick house, now known as Rosehurst, which was built for and lived in by this same Dr. Crosby. The house remains a private residence.

Moat Hall

The Kirkby Hall Outbuildings and Moat Hall

The Robinsons’ neighbors, the Thompsons, were clearly influential. Their impact on the Ouseburns is clear just from the scale and grandeur of their mausoleum, but, unfortunately, Kirkby Hall, their palatial mansion, which Anne and Branwell would certainly have been familiar with, no longer exists. Some nineteenth-century outbuildings can still be seen on the farmland where the Hall once stood, and Moat Hall, another house owned by the family, is a home in Little Ouseburn.

While the Ouseburns, like Haworth, are in Yorkshire, anyone visiting both will be struck by the geographic differences between these areas. 

In her 1847 novel, Agnes Grey, which is thought to be at least partly based on her experiences at Thorp Green Hall, Anne Brontë writes, “The surrounding country itself was pleasant, as far as fertile fields, flourishing trees, quiet green lanes, and smiling hedges with wild-flowers scattered along their banks, could make it; but it was depressingly flat to one born and nurtured among the rugged hills of [Agnes’s hometown].” 

Adding Great and Little Ouseburn to the Brontë trail gives us a whole new perspective on the Brontës, away from industrial Haworth and its bleak moors. And visiting these villages will give you a chance to see the pieces of history that still surround us today, hinting at one of the most scandalous episodes in Brontë family history.

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Finola Austin, also known as the Secret Victorianist on her award-winning blog, is an England-born, Northern Ireland-raised, Brooklyn-based historical novelist and lover of the nineteenth century. She has two degrees from the University of Oxford, including a Master’s in Victorian literature. Brontë’s Mistress is her first novel and is available for order now. The book explores the scandalous historical love affair between Branwell Brontë and Lydia Robinson, giving voice to the woman who allegedly corrupted her son’s innocent tutor and brought down the entire Brontë family. By day, Finola works in digital advertising. Find her online at http://www.finolaaustin.com/ or connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter.

The Ruination of Wycoller

by Annie Whitehead

In a hidden valley, about three miles from Colne in Lancashire, lies the village of Wycoller. It was abandoned in the late 20th century, but the story of its decline began many centuries earlier.

In order to visit the village, you have to leave your car in the car park and walk down a steep path. Even before you arrive in the village, there are clues to its history and the reason for its former prosperity.

These vaccary stones can be found in fields all around the village and are reminders of when the village of Wycoller was one of five local vaccaries, specialising in cattle rearing. In the early 14th century most of the village was involved in some capacity, including the building of cattle folds and felling timber for alterations to shippons, and there are records to show that the payment for building a house for heifers was 2s 6d.

The Tudor Aisled Barn

The Tudor age saw the village grow richer still from the textile trade, as sheep began to replace cattle. The inhabitants combined farming with the preparation of wool, spinning, weaving, and the manufacture of clothing. A field above the village still bears the name Tenter Field, a reference to the practice of stretching cloth out on tenterhooks while it dried.

The population increased, because of the weaving work. At one point in the late 18th century, 78% of the heads of households were weavers. Such was the success of the village that there were three hatters resident in Wycoller.

Above: the medieval pack-horse bridge with, below, the signs of centuries of traffic.

But the boom could not last; handloom weavers were no match for the mills in nearby Trawden, Winewall, and Colne. Between 1820 and 1871 the population fell from around 350 to 107, and those who remained were mostly farmers.

Then, in 1890, the Colne Water Corporation announced plans to flood the village to make a reservoir. The buildings were not under threat, but nearly 200 acres of prime farmland were bought up by the Corporation. Underground water reserves were discovered and the work never went ahead, but it was too late. Wycoller became but a ghostly shadow in the valley, with buildings becoming derelict.

The main attraction in the village is the ruin of Wycoller Hall. This building seems to serve as a symbol of the history of the village. Where once it was a splendid 16th century manor house, with a magnificent fireplace, it is now a ruin, open to the elements since the late 19th century when the roof was taken off and sold. Originally owned by the Hartley family, the hall was extended in the late 18th century by its last owner, Squire Cunliffe.

A drawing showing how the fireplace would have been used 

A keen gambler, Cunliffe also borrowed money against Wycoller Hall to fund the building work. He died - heavily in debt - in 1818. The property passed to his nephew Charles Cunliffe Owen, but Charles could not afford to pay off the debts and the estate was divided up among the creditors. The hall passed to a distant relative, and then to the Rev. John Roberts Oldham. The latter arranged for large parts of the stonework to be sold off to build the cotton mill at Trawden.

Wycoller is situated between Pendle and Haworth. Links with the latter are well-documented: Wycoller Hall was frequently visited by Charlotte Bronte and it was the inspiration for Ferndean Manor in Jane Eyre.

No such established link exists between Wycoller and Pendle, but as my companion remarked on the day we visited, it is not hard to imagine that many pedlars passed through, in the times of prosperity. Is it possible that this one passed through Wycoller at some point?

From the confession of 'Pendle Witch' Alison Device, 30th March 1612 (as recorded by Thomas Potts in Discovery of Witches, 1613): 'At which time she met with a peddler on the high-way, called Colne-field, near unto Colne: and she demanded of the said peddler to buy some pins of him; but the said peddler sturdily answered that he would not loose his pack; and so she parting with him: presently there appeared to her the black dog, which appeared unto her as before: which black dog spoke unto her in English, saying "what wouldst you have me to do unto yonder man?" Alice asked the dog what it could do and it told her it could lame the man, who, before he was gone 'forty roodes (300 yards) further, he fell down lame.'

The clapper bridge, above, has various names, which sum up the history of Wycoller: hints of a much earlier age are contained in the name Druids' Bridge, it was also known as the Hall Bridge, because it is the nearest of Wycoller's seven bridges to the hall, and it has been referred to as the Weavers' Bridge, because of the generations of handloom weavers who used it to cross the river.

There is one, final, poignant note about this once thriving village. Just like the pack-horse bridge, the clapper bridge had a deep groove where the stone had been worn down by the journeys back and forth of the clog-wearing weavers. But in 1910 the groove was chiselled smooth by a local farmer, after his daughter had a fatal accident on the bridge.

Wycoller repays a visit. The tiny, peaceful hamlet contains within it many visual hints of a rich and varied history. Inhabited once more, nevertheless it retains a silence that respects its past and allows the visitor to sit, contemplate, and listen for the ghosts of a once lively hub of industry and trade.
For a look 'behind the scenes' pop over to my blog HERE.

[This is an Editors' Choice post, and was originally published on 26th September 2015]

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Annie Whitehead is a history graduate and prize-winning author. Her novel, To Be A Queen, is the story of Aethelflaed, daughter of Alfred the Great, who came to be known as the Lady of the Mercians. It was long-listed for the Historical Novel Society’s Indie Book of the Year 2016 and has been awarded an indieBRAG medallion. Her new release, Alvar the Kingmaker, which tells the story of politics, intrigeu, deceit and murderAelfhere in the time of King Edgar, is available now. She has recently contributed to 1066 Turned Upside Down, an anthology of short stories in which nine authors re-imagine the events of 1066 and ask 'What If'.
Annie's Author Page
Alvar the Kingmaker
To Be A Queen
Annie's Website
Annie's Blog
1066 Turned Upside Down

A Journey to the Brontë family at Haworth

by Stephanie Cowell

I first visited the Brontë parsonage in Haworth in my early twenties. Haworth is a little town in Yorkshire set on a steep hill and was much less touristy then. I remember trying to cross a bridge and having to wait for a bunch of sheep to cross before me. I was surprised at how small were the parsonage rooms: how did they have space for all those passionate personalities? There is a passage in one of the letters describing how Emily, Charlotte and Anne paced the small parlor at night. I could not understand how they managed in their long dresses.

I kept thinking, “I am here, I am here.” I saw Charlotte’s nightgown on display and the curator explained how they washed these old things. “Very carefully in mild soap.” I gazed at Charlotte’s tiny wedding cap. She was so very small! Everything seemed to creak. There were not many tourists. Some of the small stone houses on the steep street had handwritten notices posted in the windows that they served tea and pot pie. A woman sat me alone at her kitchen table and served me beef and kidney pie. I picked doubtfully at the kidneys.

To my great fortune, I met a Yorkshire woman and her daughter who invited me to their home which had been a 14th century weaver’s cottage. They also took me walking on the moors and to the ruin of what is thought to be the inspiration for the house in Wuthering Heights. How lonely it was, how isolated. We keep bumping into wild sheep who stared at us. My little blue heeled shoes were ruined in the mud. The wind blew and blew. I lost touch with these lovely people, alas!

It was not until I returned with my husband many years later and stayed in a neighboring farmhouse that I heard the wind really wuthering in the chimneys. It was truly remarkable.