The Village of Villette

A Charlotte Brontë Haven

Welcome

Inspired by The Republic of Pemeberley, a home for Jane Austen fans, this site is for lovers of Charlotte Brontë and her writing.

If you've ever found yourself reading through the pages of a C. Brontë's work, wishing you could talk to someone who is also familiar with Lucy Snowe, this place is for you. If you enjoy Jane Eyre and want a place to talk about it, you are welcome here. If you haven't heard much about Charlotte Brontë and want to read her works, this place is also for you.

This site is provided as an example for Elizabeth Mitchell's portfolio. But this may be an actual site in the future.

About Charlotte Bronte

Lovely text about Charlotte Brontë.

Books and Writing

Jane Eyre
There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question.
Read the book.
Villette
My godmother lived in a handsome house in the clean and ancient town of Bretton. Her husband's family had been residents there for generations, and bore, indeed, the name of their birthplace—Bretton of Bretton: whether by coincidence, or because some remote ancestor had been a personage of sufficient importance to leave his name to his neighbourhood, I know not.
Read the book.
The Professor
The other day, in looking over my papers, I found in my desk the following copy of a letter, sent by me a year since to an old school acquaintance.
Read the book.
Shirley
Of late years an abundant shower of curates has fallen upon the north of England: they lie very thick on the hills; every parish has one or more of them; they are young enough to be very active, and ought to be doing a great deal of good. But not of late years are we about to speak; we are going back to the beginning of this century: late years—present years are dusty, sunburnt, hot, arid; we will evade the noon, forget it in siesta, pass the midday in slumber, and dream of dawn.
Read the book.

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