The ghosts of Cathy and Heathcliff
"But the country folks, if you ask them, would swear on the Bible that he walks: there are those who speak to having met him near the church, and on the moor, and even within this house. Idle tales, you’ll say, and so say I. Yet that old man by the kitchen fire affirms he has seen two on ’em looking out of his chamber window on every rainy night since his death: and an odd thing happened to me about a month ago. I was going to the Grange one evening—a dark evening, threatening thunder—and, just at the turn of the Heights, I encountered a little boy with a sheep and two lambs before him; he was crying terribly; and I supposed the lambs were skittish, and would not be guided.
‘What is the matter, my little man?’ I asked.
‘There’s Heathcliff and a woman yonder, under t’ nab,’ he blubbered, ‘un’ I darnut pass ’em.’
I saw nothing; but neither the sheep nor he would go on so I bid him take the road lower down. "- Wuthering Heights.
‘What is the matter, my little man?’ I asked.
‘There’s Heathcliff and a woman yonder, under t’ nab,’ he blubbered, ‘un’ I darnut pass ’em.’
I saw nothing; but neither the sheep nor he would go on so I bid him take the road lower down. "- Wuthering Heights.
Nab (left) and Ponden Clough in sunlight
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The Nab (centre)
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‘There’s Heathcliff and a woman yonder, under t’ nab,’ he blubbered, ‘un’ I darnut pass ’em.’
"There is a presence on that moor that should not be there." - Winifred Coombe Tennant
Even ghosts belong to a place that meant something to them when they were alive but the spirits up there never walked those hills. Wuthering Heights is a fiction but somehow, through force of will, the souls of Cathy and Heathcliff have been evoked and drawn to places we have chosen for them.
Thousands of fans pilgrimage each year to Top Withens high on Haworth moor looking for the spirit of Wuthering Heights. A ceremonial rite for people transfixed and moved by the characters in the book. It seems to have been this intent and ritual to connect emotionally with the fictional Cathy and Heathcliff that has conjured up a form of spirit that never actually lived. Their connection with our realm is based not on their previous experiences of life but with the thoughts of the readers and pilgrims and the words in a book. An incomplete and malleable history, a madness of uncertainty and a force of emotion, they are a conglomeration of the intents and desires of their advocates and fans, their aspects and traits at the whim of the interpretations of others.
Seance
The haunting of Haworth moor is like no other.
Even ghosts belong to a place that meant something to them when they were alive but the spirits up there never walked those hills. Wuthering Heights is a fiction but somehow, through force of will, the souls of Cathy and Heathcliff have been evoked and drawn to places we have chosen for them.
Thousands of fans pilgrimage each year to Top Withens high on Haworth moor looking for the spirit of Wuthering Heights. A ceremonial rite for people transfixed and moved by the characters in the book. It seems to have been this intent and ritual to connect emotionally with the fictional Cathy and Heathcliff that has conjured up a form of spirit that never actually lived. Their connection with our realm is based not on their previous experiences of life but with the thoughts of the readers and pilgrims and the words in a book. An incomplete and malleable history, a madness of uncertainty and a force of emotion, they are a conglomeration of the intents and desires of their advocates and fans, their aspects and traits at the whim of the interpretations of others.
Seance
The haunting of Haworth moor is like no other.
Henry Cass
Henry Cass was a parliamentarian and follower of Oliver Cromwell during the English civil war.
His ghost is said to appear near Ponden when a death is imminent. Sometimes his spirit is said to take the form of a burning barrel rolling down the hillsides.
His ghost is said to appear near Ponden when a death is imminent. Sometimes his spirit is said to take the form of a burning barrel rolling down the hillsides.
Ponden at Dusk
