Month: December 2025

I hope you all had a very Happy Christmas, and thanks to you all for joining me over my 12 days of Brontë Christmas countdown – I had so many lovely comments about the posts, and that makes it all worthwhile. This period between Christmas and New Year can be a time to relax and recharge the batteries, but this week in 1812 was anything but relaxing for the founding figures of the Brontë family: for Patrick Brontë and Maria Branwell it was a time of excited anticipation, a time of joy and a time of wedding preparation.

Patrick and Maria were married in Guiseley’s St. Oswald’s church on 29th December 1812, less than six months after their first meeting (although it has been conjectured that there may have been an earlier meeting between the two). It was a happy and unique event, for in fact it was a triple wedding spread across four hundred miles involving two sisters, two best friends, and four cousins. Phew, I will leave it to Charlotte Branwell, daughter of one of the participants (and cousin of the Brontë sisters), to explain it in a letter printed in a Cornish newspaper on Christmas Day 1884:

On this day in 1812 bride and groom-to-be were on the eve of their wedding – I can well imagine how they must have been feeling as I had my own wedding day earlier this year, making me the happiest man in the world. Patrick and Maria must have been feeling just as happy, and their married life was a happy one which produced six children.

In a letter of 5th December, Maria wrote of their wedding preparations: ‘We intend to set about making the cakes here next week, but as fifteen or twenty persons whom you mention live probably in your neighbourhood, I think it will be most convenient for Mrs Bedford to make a small one for the purpose of distributing there, which will save us the difficulty of sending so far.’

Mr and Mrs Bedford were Patrick’s landlords at his rented home of Lousy Thorn Farm near Hartshead-cum-Clifton in the West Riding of Yorkshire, although shortly after the wedding the new Mr and Mrs Brontë made their first home at Clough House in nearby Hightown.

Whatever your plans are for the New Year I hope they can go smoothly, and I hope you can join me on Sunday for our first Brontë blog post of 2026 – and I have big plans for this website, and for celebrations of all things Brontë, in the year to come.

So here it is – Merry Christmas! I opened my curtains to not a single snowflake this morning, but we can still get in the festive mood by finalising our 12 day Brontë Christmas countdown!

In the famous song that we’ve been following for nearly two weeks now, the twelfth day brought with it a gift of 12 drummers drumming.

There are no records of a Brontë owning a drum, or even hearing a drum, but we know that the family loved music. Patrick bought a second hand piano that Emily (who was reportedly a brilliant player) and Anne Brontë played (Charlotte apparently didn’t play as she was too short sighted to read music), and you can still see it in Patrick’s study in the Brontë Parsonage today. Branwell Brontë also played the church organ from time to time, and flute.

There is one other instrument that has become associated with the Brontës, thanks to a poem by Emily, and it’s one which was in its infancy at the time although it has come to dominate the world of popular music today: the guitar. Here is Emily Brontë’s poem “The Lady To Her Guitar”:

So now we have concluded our 12 Days Of Brontë Christmas countdown. We’ve had to use a little artistic license on some days, but I hope you’ve enjoyed reading these posts as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them. Our song now reads: “On the twelfth day of Christmas the Brontës gave to me twelve strummers strumming, eleven trumpets playing, ten Lords a changing, nine sisters dancing, eight maids a loving, seven books a reading, six geese a straying, five Brontë rings, four coloured dogs, three French letters, two captive doves, and a merlin in a bare tree.”

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas, and I look forward to seeing you on Sunday for another new Brontë blog post. I leave you today, as on every Christmas Day for the last 11 years with Anne Brontë’s poem “Music On Christmas Morning”:

‘Music I love – but never strain
Could kindle raptures so divine,
So grief assuage, so conquer pain,
And rouse this pensive heart of mine –
As that we hear on Christmas morn,
Upon the wintry breezes born.
Though Darkness still her empire keep,
And hours must pass, ere morning break;
From troubled dreams, or slumbers deep,
That music kindly bids us wake:
It calls us, with an angel’s voice,
To wake, and worship, and rejoice;
To greet with joy the glorious morn,
Which angels welcomed long ago,
When our redeeming Lord was born,
To bring the light of Heaven below;
The Powers of Darkness to dispel,
And rescue Earth from Death and Hell.
While listening to that sacred strain,
My raptured spirit soars on high;
I seem to hear those songs again
Resounding through the open sky,
That kindled such divine delight,
In those who watched their flocks by night.
With them – I celebrate His birth –
Glory to God, in highest Heaven,
Good will to men, and peace on Earth,
To us a saviour-king is given;
Our God is come to claim His own,
And Satan’s power is overthrown!
A sinless God, for sinful men,
Descends to suffer and to bleed;
Hell must renounce its empire then;
The price is paid, the world is freed.
And Satan’s self must now confess,
That Christ has earned a Right to bless:
Now holy Peace may smile from heaven,
And heavenly Truth from earth shall spring:
The captive’s galling bonds are riven,
For our Redeemer is our king;
And He that gave his blood for men
Will lead us home to God again.’

Christmas Eve is here, a time for house cleaning, food prepping and gift wrapping. A time for singing carols: carols such as The Twelve Days Of Christmas. We’re onto day 11 of our 12 day Bronte countdown, so what twist can we put on the 11 pipers piping as featured in the original song?

Pipers are commonly associated with the military, or with Scotland – especially with their great New Year feast of Hogmanay. The Brontes were lovers of all things Scottish, having been influenced from a young age by the writings of Walter Scott. 

Charlotte Bronte eventually visited Scotland along with her publisher George Smith and his family, and fell deeply in love with Edinburgh. She wrote of the city in a letter dated July 30th 1850 to her friend Laetitia Wheelwright:

“My stay in Scotland was short, and what I saw was chiefly comprised in Edinburgh and the neighbourhood, in Abbotsford and in Melrose; for I was obliged to relinquish my first intention of going from Glasgow to Oban and thence through a portion of the Highlands — but — though the time was brief, and the view of objects limited, I found such a charm of situation, association and circumstance that I think the enjoyment experienced in that little space equalled in degree and excelled in kind all which London yielded during a month’s sojourn. Edinburgh compared to London is like a vivid page of history compared to a huge dull treatise on Political Economy – and as to Melrose and Abbotsford the very names possess music and magic.”

Could Charlotte have heard pipes piping during this Scottish visit? Quite possibly, and we can safely say, given her love of all things Scottish, she would have been enchanted by them. Pipes of a different kind could be heard in Haworth every Christmas – in the form of the brass and woodwind instruments played by local brass bands who visited leading houses in the district, such as Haworth Parsonage. We get a glimpse of what this would have been like in the Christmas scene in Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights:

“In the evening we had a dance. Cathy begged that he might be liberated then, as Isabella Linton had no partner: her entreaties were vain, and I was appointed to supply the deficiency. We got rid of all gloom in the excitement of the exercise, and our pleasure was increased by the arrival of the Gimmerton band, mustering fifteen strong: a trumpet, a trombone, clarionets, bassoons, French horns, and a bass viol, besides singers. They go the rounds of all the respectable houses, and receive contributions every Christmas, and we esteemed it a first-rate treat to hear them. After the usual carols had been sung, we set them to songs and glees. Mrs. Earnshaw loved the music, and so they gave us plenty.”

Let us then update our Christmas song to: “On the eleventh day of Christmas the Brontes gave to me eleven trumpets playing, ten Lords a changing, nine sisters dancing, eight maids a loving, seven books a reading, six geese a straying, five Brontë rings, four coloured dogs, three French letters, two captive doves, and a merlin in a bare tree.”

Hearing festive bands, then or today, is a joyous experience, but I know that Christmas isn’t always a happy time for many. There are many who will be dealing with loss, myself included, at this Christmas time. I can very much recommend the e-books on “Coping With Grief” and “Dealing With Loneliness” authored by my wonderful wife Yvette, a specialist in bereavement therapy. She has been immensely helpful to me in so many ways, and you cand find out more about her books at this Restorative Creativity link.

Please, if you can, join me tomorrow for the twelfth instalment of our 12 Days Of Bronte Christmas countdown, which will also feature a certain Bronte poem that I always post on Christmas Day itself! Until then, may all your preparations go smoothly.

If you’ve been following my 12 Days Of Brontë Christmas countdown you’ll know that it’s already been a very mixed selection: we’ve had everything from portraits of dogs, to mourning rings, pet geese and Brontës dancing in old Hollywood movies. Today we take inspiration from one of the greatest Brontë novels: Anne Brontë’s The Tenant Of Wildfell Hall.

We’re following, as always, the pattern of the Christmas song we all know and love, and on this day the true love gifted ten lords a leaping. It doesn’t sound like a very practical gift, but many believe that the song as a whole is a form of Catholic symbolism. After the reformation, particularly during the reigns of Elizabeth I and James I to be a Catholic in England was to be in danger. It was illegal to attend Catholic mass and compulsory to attend Anglican services, and failure to comply could result in fines, jail or worse. It was this tension that led to the gunpowder plot of 1605 (as you can find out in my book The Real Guy Fawkes).

The Catholic faith was forced underground, with hidden chapels and priest holes where priests could hide from troops sent to catch them. It’s said that each day of the twelve day song represents one element of the Catholic faith – and the  ten lords are actually the ten commandments, whilst yesterday’s nine ladies dancing were the nine fruits of the holy spirit.

Onto today’s Brontë connection. There were no Lords at Haworth Parsonage, although the Bishop of Ripon Charles Longley, who was a guest of the Brontës there, later became a ‘Lord Spiritual’ when he was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury.

A Lord features prominently in a Brontë novel however: Lord Lowborough in The Tenant Of Wildfell Hall. Some people believe that Branwell Brontë is at the heart of the villain of the novel Arthur Huntingdon, but Huntingdon is an irredeemable character – a drunk and an adulterer who makes the life of his wife Helen an utter misery. Branwell had his faults and weaknesses, but Anne Brontë had faith in him and would not have portrayed him in that way.

I feel that Lord Lowborough has more of Branwell in him. Lowborough is a weak and troubled man, easily led by his circle of friends into a life of debauchery, drunkenness, drug taking and gambling. Nevertheless we see in Anne’s novels his attempts to change: he weans himself off of drink, but Huntingdon’s gang hold him down and force drink down his throat.

Anne Brontë sups up Lord Lowborough’s trials and efforts towards the close of her great novel: 

“Some time before Mr. Huntingdon’s death Lady Lowborough eloped with another gallant to the Continent, where, having lived a while in reckless gaiety and dissipation, they quarrelled and parted. She went dashing on for a season, but years came and money went: she sunk, at length, in difficulty and debt, disgrace and misery; and died at last, as I have heard, in penury, neglect, and utter wretchedness. But this might be only a report: she may be living yet for anything I or any of her relatives or former acquaintances can tell; for they have all lost sight of her long years ago, and would as thoroughly forget her if they could. Her husband, however, upon this second misdemeanour, immediately sought and obtained a divorce, and, not long after, married again. It was well he did, for Lord Lowborough, morose and moody as he seemed, was not the man for a bachelor’s life. No public interests, no ambitious projects, or active pursuits, – or ties of friendship even (if he had had any friends), could compensate to him for the absence of domestic comforts and endearments. He had a son and a nominal daughter, it is true, but they too painfully reminded him of their mother, and the unfortunate little Annabella was a source of perpetual bitterness to his soul. He had obliged himself to treat her with paternal kindness: he had forced himself not to hate her, and even, perhaps, to feel some degree of kindly regard for her, at last, in return for her artless and unsuspecting attachment to himself; but the bitterness of his self-condemnation for his inward feelings towards that innocent being, his constant struggles to subdue the evil promptings of his nature (for it was not a generous one), though partly guessed at by those who knew him, could be known to God and his own heart alone; – so also was the hardness of his conflicts with the temptation to return to the vice of his youth, and seek oblivion for past calamities, and deadness to the present misery of a blighted heart a joyless, friendless life, and a morbidly disconsolate mind, by yielding again to that insidious foe to health, and sense, and virtue, which had so deplorably enslaved and degraded him before.

The second object of his choice was widely different from the first. Some wondered at his taste; some even ridiculed it – but in this their folly was more apparent than his. The lady was about his own age – i.e., between thirty and forty – remarkable neither for beauty, nor wealth, nor brilliant accomplishments; nor any other thing that I ever heard of, except genuine good sense, unswerving integrity, active piety, warm-hearted benevolence, and a fund of cheerful spirits. These qualities, however, as you may readily imagine, combined to render her an excellent mother to the children, and an invaluable wife to his lordship. He, with his usual self-depreciation, thought her a world too good for him, and while he wondered at the kindness of Providence in conferring such a gift upon him, and even at her taste in preferring him to other men, he did his best to reciprocate the good she did him, and so far succeeded that she was, and I believe still is, one of the happiest and fondest wives in England; and all who question the good taste of either partner may be thankful if their respective selections afford them half the genuine satisfaction in the end, or repay their preference with affection half as lasting and sincere.”

It is a reform and redemption, of a kind, for Lord Lowborough just as Anne always believed her brother Branwell was capable of change. So now we have: “On the tenth day of Christmas the Brontës gave to me ten Lords a changing, nine sisters dancing, eight maids a loving, seven books a reading, six geese a straying, five Brontë rings, four coloured dogs, three French letters, two captive doves, and a merlin in a bare tree.”

I hope you can join me tomorrow, Christmas Eve, as we continue our countdown of the twelve days of Brontë Christmas.

Christmas week has arrived: how did that happen, it seems only the blink of an eye since Advent appeared over the horizon? It may be a busy week for you, but I hope you still find time to enjoy the four remaining posts in my 12 Days Of Brontë Christmas countdown!

In the original song we have arrived at ‘nine ladies dancing’, so did the Brontë sisters dance? The Brontës were a lower middle class family at a time when social position was more entrenched and more important than it is today. As daughters of a Church of England clergyman they were eminently respectable, but they didn’t have a lot of money compared to many clergy families. Many vicars and curates at this time, such as Patrick Brontë’s forerunner at Haworth Samuel Redhead, came from wealthy families, but Patrick came from a poor farming family which meant that he didn’t have the money to lavish on his children that he might have liked.

From an early age the Brontë sisters were being shaped for life as a governess: they would be expected to be able to teach sewing, literature and art, arithmetic and the humanities, but dancing was a skill that specialist teachers would be engaged for. Therefore, in short, I doubt whether the Brontës engaged in much dancing in their lives, other than perhaps with each other or their father or brother at Christmas.

We know Charlotte Brontë’s opinion of dancing thanks to a letter that she sent, aged 18, to her best friend Ellen Nussey. In the letter Charlotte names the sins of dancing as ‘shaking the shanks’, frivolity, and wasting time – but concludes that young people should still be permitted to engage in it from time to time.

There is much frivolity, and much shaking of the shanks, in a clip from the rather eccentric Hollywood Brontë biopic ‘Devotion’. In one notable scene Emily, Anne and Charlotte are seen dancing in a grand country house, and Charlotte is soon dancing with a rather posh Arthur Bell Nicholls. It’s all phooey, but enjoyable phooey. You can see the clip below, so now we can add to our song: On the ninth day of Christmas the Brontës gave to me nine sisters dancing, eight maids a loving, seven books a reading, six geese a straying, five Brontë rings, four coloured dogs, three French letters, two captive doves, and a merlin in a bare tree.”

I hope you can join me tomorrow as we reach double figures in our Brontë festive fun countdown, and if you are shaking your shanks over the next four days I hope you are the king or queen of your dancefloor.

As regular readers of this blog will know, I try to do at least one Brontë post every week, as I have done for over ten years now, with a post usually appearing on Sunday. In the run up to Christmas this year I have been posting a daily post following the pattern of the 12 Days Of Christmas song, so if you’ve missed any of the previous posts here they are:

7 books a reading

6 geese a straying

5 Brontë rings

4 coloured dogs

3 French letters

2 Captive doves

and a merlin in a bare tree

Day 8 of the original song requires 8 maids a milking, but not having a cow of their own the Brontë family have little need of a milkmaid. They did, however, have a succession of nursemaids, general maids and cooks. The ones we know most about are:

The de Garrs Sisters: Nancy and Sarah de Garrs were initially employed as maids at Thornton but travelled with the Brontë family to Haworth. Sarah married and emigrated to America, but Nancy remained in the West Riding of Yorkshire. She ended her days, like so many others, in Bradford Workhouse but she had a steady stream of visitors who were keen to hear her tales of the Brontë children she’d known and loved.

Tabby Aykroyd: After the de Garrs sisters married and left the employ of Patrick Brontë, Aunt Branwell suggested that one older servant would be better than two younger ones, so Tabitha Aykroyd came to the parsonage. The Brontë siblings loved this bluff Yorkshire woman who told them folk tales, so much so that they refused to eat when their father wanted to let Tabby go after she broke her leg. In later years Charlotte would complete the work that the by then elderly Tabby missed without telling her; another mark of the respect and love she was held in.

Martha Brown: Martha was the daughter of Haworth sexton, and parsonage neighbour, John Brown. She entered service at the parsonage aged 13 and remained there for over 20 years. After the deaths of Emily and Anne Brontë she became a confidante and friend of Charlotte, and after Charlotte’s death she moved to Ireland to live with Charlotte’s widower Arthur Bell Nicholls and his second wife Mary Anna.

Tabitha Brown: Tabitha was the younger sister of Martha, and although she never lived in the parsonage she was often called upon when an extra pair of hands were needed. It was Tabitha Brown, by then the elderly Tabitha Ratcliffe, who gave this moving recollection of the Brontë sisters to a newspaper in 1910:

‘Her most interesting relic is a photograph on glass of the three sisters. “I believe Charlotte was the lowest and the broadest, and Emily was the tallest. She’d bigger bones and was stronger looking and more masculine, but very nice in her ways,” she comments. “But I used to think Miss Anne looked the nicest and most serious like; she used to teach at Sunday school. I’ve been taught by her and by Charlotte and all.” And it is on Anne that her glance rests as she says, “I think that is a good face.” There is no doubt which of the sisters of Haworth was Mrs Ratcliffe’s favourite.’

So we have five maids, or servants, but there would undoubtedly have been others from time to time, and it is clear that they all loved the Brontë children very much. So on this eighth day of Christmas the Brontës gave to us Eight maids a loving.

I hope you can join me tomorrow, amidst your festive celebrations, as we reach day nine of our 12 Days of Brontë Christmas countdown.

Before I jump back into our 12 Days Of Brontë Christmas countdown I want to thank you all for the many positive comments I’ve had so far. This year has marked the tenth anniversary of the start of this blog, and since then I’ve covered over 500 Brontë subjects – it’s been an absolute pleasure, and your support has made it all possible. Thank you!

As you will know if you’ve followed the last six days, I am publishing a post a day leading up to Christmas Day itself – and with each day based upon the corresponding day from the Twelve Days Of Christmas song. In that song, the seventh day sees a gift of seven swans a swimming, but there aren’t many swan connections to the Brontës so I will have to use a little poetic license today.

There may not be seven swans in the Brontë story but there are seven novels. Yes, these three incredibly talented sisters produced seven novels which have changed the course of literary history forever, and what a septet they left us. In order of publication they wrote:

Jane Eyre (1847): Despite being written after the two following novels, it was the first Brontë novel to be published – and is still one of the world’s best loved books.

Agnes Grey (1847) – Published in tandem with her sister Emily’s book, this debut novel of Anne Brontë is based heavily on her time as governess to the Ingham and Robinson families.

Wuthering Heights (1847): Emily Brontë’s only novel is as powerful and captivating today as the day it was written. This mighty story was conjured up from Emily’s imagination, although its central plot may have been inspired by a story Emily heard when a teacher in Halifax.

The Tenant Of WIldfell Hall (1848): Anne’s second novel takes an unflinching look at alcoholism and marital abuse. A misunderstanding over its authorship led to Charlotte and Anne travelling to London to throw off their pseudonyms and reveal the Brontë sisters to the world.

Shirley (1849): Shirley had a troubled genesis; Charlotte Brontë based the heroines Shirley and Caroline on her sisters Emily and Anne Brontë, but both died while Charlotte was writing it.

Villette (1853): Charlotte Brontë’s last completed novel was in many ways her most personal novel, as it drew heavily on her unrequited love for her Belgian tutor Constantin Heger. This is a novel that lingers long after you have read it.

The Professor (1857): Charlotte’s last published novel was actually the first to be written, but it was published posthumously with the permission of her widower Arthur Bell Nicholls. There are many similarities between this novel and Villette.

So now we have: On the seventh day of Christmas the Brontës gave to me seven books a reading, six geese a straying, five Brontë rings, four coloured dogs, three French letters, two captive doves, and a merlin in a bare tree.

Which is your favourite Brontë novel? For me it’s Wuthering Heights with Agnes Grey a close second – what a day it was when those two were published together by Thomas Cautley Newby! I hope you can join me tomorrow for another day in our Brontë Christmas countdown.

We reach day six in our twelve days of Brontë Christmas countdown, but before we find a Brontë related replacement for six geese a laying, we have to mark one of the saddest Brontë anniversaries on the calendar. Today marks the 177th anniversary of Emily Brontë’s death.

Emily Brontë died on 19th December 1848, dying just three months after brother Branwell in what was a real annus horribilis in Haworth Parsonage. Emily was a great and unique genius, an intensely shy woman yet one who excelled at everything she turned her hand to: from painting and poetry, to shooting guns, baking bread and learning languages. 

Emily wrote just one novel, but in my opinion it’s the greatest novel ever written: Wuthering Heights. Having written this masterpiece she laid down her pen, and it’s my opinion that even if Emily had lived longer she would not have produced another novel. Her early death from tuberculosis was a terrible tragedy, but what a gift she has left to the world in her writing.

Charlotte Brontë announced the death of her younger sister the following day in a letter to W. S. Williams of her publishing house Smith Elder:

“My dear sir, when I wrote in such haste to Dr. Epps, disease was making rapid strides, nor has it lingered since, the galloping consumption has merited its name – neither physician nor medicine are needed more. Tuesday night and morning saw the last hours, the last agonies, proudly ensured till the end. Yesterday Emily Jane Brontë died in the arms of those who loved her.

Thus the strange dispensation is completed – it is incomprehensible as yet to mortal intelligence. The last three months – ever since my brother’s death seem to us like a long, terrible dream. We look for support to God – and thus far he mercifully enables us to maintain our self-control in the midst of affliction whose bitterness none could have calculated on.”

As Omar Khayyam famously said, “The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on.” We turn now to our 12 days of Christmas countdown: we can’t serve up six geese a laying, but the Brontës did have two geese which they named Adelaide and Victoria. See if you can spot them on this fabulous collage of Brontë pets I bought from talented artist Amanda White.

The names of the geese were a tribute to the royal family of the time: Queen Victoria, and her first child Victoria Adelaide who had been born in the year before the geese came into the Brontë household. Alas, the geese went missing whilst Emily and Charlotte Brontë were in Brussels; they had strayed. Therefore, our 12 Days of Brontë Christmas is now: “Six geese a straying, five Brontë rings, four coloured dogs, three French letters, two captive doves, and a merlin in a bare tree.”

By the way, Queen Victoria features heavily in a very atmospheric introduction to Short History Of The Brontës, a podcast available on the BBC and many other podcast providers. I also feature heavily in it, although please note that I had nothing to do with the podcast’s claim that The Tenant Of Wildfell Hall was not republished until 1992! Nevertheless, I think this is a great listen if you want the Brontë story in under an hour. Here it is on BBC Sounds: 

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/p0mj277k

I hope you can join me tomorrow for day seven of our festive Brontë countdown, and until then please join me in raising a glass or mug to the memory of Emily Jane Brontë. 

Can you believe that Christmas is just one week away? Preparations in the Brontë parsonage in Haworth would not only have focused on them but on the wider community, for as the parish priest and his family they were all expected to play a prominent role in Haworth life. For people as shy as Charlotte, Anne and especially Emily Brontë this must have been a real ordeal – and the run up to Christmas would see an increase in parochial duties that needed carrying out.

As you probably know by now, this blog is running a post every day in the run up to Christmas, with each day based upon the lyrics to that famous Christmas song we all know and love: no, not the Mariah Carey one but The Twelve Days Of Christmas. As we’re currently on day five it’s a pivotal moment in the original song as we come to “five gold rings”. The tempo changes for this line only, giving it an emphasis over all the other gifts. That’s understandable, after all, most people would prefer to receive a collection of gold rings rather than a collection of birds or a visit from leaping Lords and milking maids.

In keeping with this Brontë Christmas countdown we are changing this to “five Brontë rings”, and here they are:

All these rings were worn by the Brontës. If we start at the top left we have a delicate diamond and garnet ring, set in gold it may have been an engagement ring to Charlotte from Arthur Bell Nicholls. Continuing clockwise we come to a ring which keeps its secret: its front opens up to reveal a lock of hair from Emily Brontë. In the days before photography was widespread people would often turn locks of hair into rings, bracelets and necklaces as a way to remember deceased loved ones. Next, at the bottom right, we find a pearl ring which belonged to Charlotte Brontë. Bottom left is a mourning ring which contained interwoven strands of hair from Emily and Anne Brontë – quite appropriately, as Ellen Nussey recalled how Emily and Anne would often walk together with their arms interlaced. Central is perhaps the most beautiful of all those pictured here: Charlotte Brontë’s gold wedding ring (her wedding bonnet and the lower portion of her dress is pictured below).

I can’t promise you a gold ring tomorrow, let alone five, but I can promise you another Brontë Christmas post, in which we’ll also mark a very sad anniversary in the Brontë story. I hope you can join me then.

The days are flying by as we head ever closer to Christmas Day. I hope you have your cards, presents and wrapping paper ready, for we are now on day four of our twelve days of Brontë Christmas countdown.

As you’ll know if you’ve seen our posts for days one, two or three, we’re following the 12 days of Christmas for inspiration but giving it a Brontë twist. In the original carol we have four calling birds today. In the ancient origins of the song this was actually four colly birds, meaning four blackbirds with their coal-like colouring. Either way, there’s certainly a lot of birds given in the 12 days – in fact 23 undisputed birds are given, and that’s ignoring the people who interpret every day’s gift as referring to a bird (for example they claim that drummers drumming are grouse, although of course everyone knows that grouse are more famous for dancing than drumming.)

Let’s change things slightly and have four coloured dogs – or four painted portraits of Brontë dogs by the sisters themselves. There are also black and white sketches of the dogs but let’s start with two unfinished (yet at least partly coloured) portraits of spaniel Flossy by its owner Anne Brontë.

Anne was very fond of Flossy, a spaniel gifted to her by the Robinson children of Thorp Green Hall – which goes to show how highly regarded she was as a governess there. Next we have another portrait of Flossy, but this time Emily Brontë is the artist:

Finally, our fourth coloured dog is this magnificent portrait, by Emily, of her huge and ferocious mastiff Keeper. It was known for terrorising the local population but was hugely loyal to Emily and even formed part of the mourning party in the church for her funeral (more on that sad occasion on Friday’s post):

So now we can sing together: “On the fourth day of Christmas the Brontës gave to me, four coloured dogs, three French letters, two captive doves, and a merlin in a bare tree.”

 

I hope you can join me tomorrow when we reach the pivotal day five in our twelve day Brontë Christmas countdown.