We’ve made it to another Christmas, and I hope yours is just as joyful and happy as mine is! I’m typing this on Christmas Day itself, and there’s lots of love and no bah humbug, so who could ask for more? As is traditional on this Brontë blog we are going to celebrate the big day with an Anne Brontë Christmas poem! I’ll intersperse it with some bizarre Victorian Christmas cards too – like this one!
It’s all too easy to think of the Brontë lives as relentlessly miserable, but in fact they also enjoyed moments of great happiness – especially when they were all together as a family. We can easily imagine Emily Brontë at the piano, with Anne singing in her quiet yet sweet voice. Tabby and Martha, the loyal Brontë servants, would be cooking up a treat for everyone to enjoy – I’m sure there would even be a scrap or two left over for the family pets as well!
They may, in later years, have received Christmas cards. I mentioned in a Christmas post from 2019 how the first Christmas modern card was invented by Sir Henry Cole in 1843, but recent research indicates that the origins of Christmas cards may in fact be much earlier.
I leave you now to enjoy Christmas with your loved ones, I hope it’s a truly special one for you. You can also catch my take on the Brontë Christmas on my YouTube channel The House Of Brontë. Thank you so much for all your positive comments, and to all who have subscribed and shared. It means a lot to me.
Here then is Anne Brontë’s ‘Music On Christmas Morning’, and may I wish you all a very merry Christmas! I will see you on Sunday, as always, for another new Brontë blog post.
‘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.’