‘I read my preface over with some pain — I did not like it. I wrote it when I was a little enthusiastic, like you, about the French Revolution. I wish I had written it in a cool moment; I should have said the same things, but in a different manner. One may be as enthusiastic as one likes about an author who has been dead a century or two, but I see it is a fault to bore the public with enthusiasm about a living author. I promise myself to take better care in future. Still I will think as I please.
‘Are the London republicans, and you amongst the number, cooled down yet? I suppose not, because your French brethren are acting very nobly. The abolition of slavery and of the punishment of death for political offences are two glorious deeds, but how will they get over the question of the organisation of labour! Such theories will be the sand-bank on which their vessel will run aground if they don’t mind. Lamartine, there is not doubt, would make an excellent legislator for a nation of Lamartines — but where is that nation? I hope these observations are sceptical and cool enough. — Believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely,
‘C. Bell.’
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
‘November 16th, 1848.
‘My dear Sirs, — I have already acknowledged in a note to Mr. Smith the receipt of the parcel of books, and in my thanks for this well-timed attention I am sure I ought to include you; your taste, I thought, was recognisable in the choice of some of the volumes, and a better selection it would have been difficult to make.
‘To-day I have received the Spectator and the Revue des deux Mondes. The Spectator consistently maintains the tone it first assumed regarding the Bells. I have little to object to its opinion as far as Currer Bell’s portion of the volume is concerned. It is true the critic sees only the faults, but for these his perception is tolerably accurate. Blind is he as any bat, insensate as any stone, to the merits of Ellis. He cannot feel or will not acknowledge that the very finish and labor limæ which Currer wants, Ellis has; he is not aware that the “true essence of poetry” pervades his compositions. Because Ellis’s poems are short and abstract, the critics think them comparatively insignificant and dull. They are mistaken.
‘The notice in the Revue des deux Mondes is one of the most able, the most acceptable to the author, of any that has yet appeared. Eugène Forçade understood and enjoyed Jane Eyre. I cannot say that of all who have professed to criticise it. The censures are as well-founded as the commendations. The specimens of the translation given are on the whole good; now and then the meaning of the original has been misapprehended, but generally it is well rendered.
‘Every cup given us to taste in this life is mixed. Once it would have seemed to me that an evidence of success like that contained in the Revue would have excited an almost exultant feeling in my mind. It comes, however, at a time when counteracting circumstances keep the balance of the emotions even — when my sister’s continued illness darkens the present and dims the future. That will seem to me a happy day when I can announce to you that Emily is better. Her symptoms continue to be those of slow inflammation of the lungs, tight cough, difficulty of breathing, pain in the chest, and fever. We watch anxiously for a change for the better — may it soon come. — I am, my dear sir, yours sincerely,
‘C. Brontë.
‘As I was about to seal this I received your kind letter. Truly glad am I to hear that Fanny is taking the path which pleases her parents. I trust she may persevere in it. She may be sure that a contrary one will never lead to happiness; and I should think that the reward of seeing you and her mother pleased must be so sweet that she will be careful not to run the risk of forfeiting it.
‘It is somewhat singular that I had already observed to my sisters, I did not doubt it was Mr. Lewes who had shown you the Revue.’
The many other letters referring to Emily’s last illness have already been printed. When the following letters were written, Emily and Anne were both in their graves.
TO JAMES TAYLOR, CORNHILL
‘March 1st, 1849.
‘My dear Sir, — The parcel arrived on Saturday evening. Permit me to express my sense of the judgment and kindness which have dictated the selection of its contents. They appear to be all good books, and good books are, we know, the best substitute for good society; if circumstances debar me from the latter privilege, the kind attentions of my friends supply me with ample measure of the former.
‘Thank you for your remarks on Shirley. Some of your strictures tally with some by Mr. Williams. You both complain of the want of distinctness and impressiveness in my heroes. Probably you are right. In delineating male character I labour under disadvantages: intuition and theory will not always adequately supply the place of observation and experience. When I write about women I am sure of my ground — in the other case, I am not so sure.
‘Here, then, each of you has laid the critical finger on a point that by its shrinking confesses its vulnerability; whether the disapprobation you intimate respecting the Briarchapel scenes, the curates, etc., be equally merited, time will show. I am well aware what will be the author’s present meed for these passages: I anticipate general blame and no praise. And were my motive-principle in writing a thirst for popularity, or were the chief check on my pen a dread of censure, I should withdraw these scenes — or rather, I should never have written them. I will not say whether the considerations that really govern me are sound, or whether my convictions are just; but such as they are, to their influence I must yield submission. They forbid me to sacrifice truth to the fear of blame. I accept their prohibition.
‘With the sincere expression of my esteem for the candour by which your critique is distinguished, — I am, my dear sir, yours sincerely,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
‘August 16th, 1849.
‘My dear Sir, — Since I last wrote to you I have been getting on with my book as well as I can, and I think I may now venture to say that in a few weeks I hope to have the pleasure of placing the MS. in the hands of Mr. Smith.
‘The North British Review duly reached me. I read attentively all it says about E. Wyndham, Jane Eyre, and F. Hervey. Much of the article is clever, and yet there are remarks which — for me — rob it of importance.
‘To value praise or stand in awe of blame we must respect the source whence the praise and blame proceed, and I do not respect an inconsistent critic. He says, “if Jane Eyre be the production of a woman, she must be a woman unsexed.”
‘In that case the book is an unredeemed error and should be unreservedly condemned. Jane Eyre is a woman’s autobiography, by a woman it is professedly written. If it is written as no woman would write, condemn it with spirit and decision — say it is bad, but do not eulogise and then detract. I am reminded of the Economist. The literary critic of that paper praised the book if written by a man, and pronounced it “odious” if the work of a woman.
‘To such critics I would say, “To you I am neither man nor woman — I come before you as an author only. It is the sole standard by which you have a right to judge me — the sole ground on which I accept your judgment.”
‘There is a weak comment, having no pretence either to justice or discrimination, on the works of Ellis and Acton Bell. The critic did not know that those writers had passed from time and life. I have read no review since either of my sisters died which I could have wished them to read — none even which did not render the thought of their departure more tolerable to me. To hear myself praised beyond them was cruel, to hear qualities ascribed to them so strangely the reverse of their real characteristics was scarce supportable. It is sad even now; but they are so remote from earth, so safe from its turmoils, I can bear it better.
‘But on one point do I now feel vulnerable: I should grieve to see my father’s peace of mind perturbed on my account; for which reason I keep my author’s existence as much as possible out of his way. I have always given him a carefully diluted and modified account of the success of Jane Eyre — just what would please without startling him.
The book is not mentioned between us once a month. The Quarterly I kept to myself — it would have worried papa. To that same Quarterly I must speak in the introduction to my present work — just one little word. You once, I remember, said that review was written by a lady — Miss Rigby. Are you sure of this?
‘Give no hint of my intention of discoursing a little with the Quarterly. It would look too important to speak of it beforehand. All plans are best conceived and executed without noise. — Believe me, yours sincerely,
‘C. B.’
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
‘August 21st, 1849.
‘My dear Sir, — I can only write very briefly at present — first to thank you for your interesting letter and the graphic description it contained of the neighbourhood where you have been staying, and then to decide about the title of the book.
‘If I remember rightly, my Cornhill critics objected to Hollow’s Mill, nor do I now find it appropriate. It might rather be called Fieldhead, though I think Shirley would perhaps be the best title. Shirley, I fancy, has turned out the most prominent and peculiar character in the work.
‘Cornhill may decide between Fieldhead and Shirley. — Believe me, yours sincerely,
‘C. Brontë.’
The famous Quarterly Review article by Miss Rigby, afterwards Lady Eastlake, appeared in December 1848, under the title of ‘Vanity Fair, Jane Eyre, and Governesses.’ It was a review of two novels and a treatise on schools, and but for one or two offensive passages might have been pronounced fairly complimentary. To have coupled Jane Eyre with Thackeray’s great book, at a time when Thackeray had already reached to heroic proportions in the literary world, was in itself a compliment. It is small wonder that the speculation was hazarded that J. G. Lockhart, the editor of the Quarterly, had himself supplied the venom. He could display it on occasion. It is quite clear now, however, that that was not the case. Miss Rigby was the reviewer who thought it within a critic’s province to suggest that the writer might be a woman ‘who had forfeited the society of her sex.’ Lockhart must have read the review hastily, as editors will on occasion. He writes to his contributor on November 13, 1848, before the article had appeared: —
‘About three years ago I received a small volume of ‘Poems by Currer, Acton, and Ellis Bell,’ and a queer little note by Currer, who said the book had been published a year, and just two copies sold, so they were to burn the rest, but distributed a few copies, mine being one. I find what seems rather a fair review of that tiny tome in the Spectator of this week; pray look at it.
‘I think the poems of Currer much better than those of Acton and Ellis, and believe his novel is vastly better than those which they have more recently put forth.
‘I know nothing of the writers, but the common rumour is that they are brothers of the weaving order in some Lancashire town. At first it was generally said Currer was a lady, and Mayfair circumstantialised by making her the chère amie of Mr. Thackeray. But your skill in “dress” settles the question of sex. I think, however, some woman must have assisted in the school scenes of Jane Eyre, which have a striking air of truthfulness to me — an ignoramus, I allow, on such points.
‘I should say you might as well glance at the novels by Acton and Ellis Bell — Wuthering Heights is one of them. If you have any friend about Manchester, it would, I suppose, be easy to learn accurately as to the position of these men.’
This was written in November, and it was not till December that the article appeared. Apart from the offensive imputations upon the morals of the author of Jane Eyre, which reduces itself to smart impertinence when it is understood that Miss Rigby fully believed that the author was a man, the review is not without its compensations for a new writer. The ‘equal popularity’ of Jane Eyre and Vanity Fair is referred to. ‘A very remarkable book,’ the reviewer continues; ‘we have no remembrance of another containing such undoubted power with such horrid taste.’ There is droll irony, when Charlotte Brontë’s strong conservative sentiments and church environment are considered, in the following: —
‘We do not hesitate to say that the tone of mind and thought which has overthrown authority, and violated every code, human and divine, abroad, and fostered chartism and rebellion at home, is the same which has also written Jane Eyre.’
In another passage Miss Rigby, musing upon the masculinity of the author, finally clinches her arguments by proofs of a kind.
‘No woman trusses game, and garnishes dessert dishes with the same hands, or talks of so doing in the same breath. Above all, no woman attires another in such fancy dresses as Jane’s ladies assume. Miss Ingram coming down irresistible in a morning robe of sky-blue crape, a gauze azure scarf twisted in her hair!! No lady, we understand, when suddenly roused in the night, would think of hurrying on “a frock.” They have garments more convenient for such occasions, and more becoming too.’
Wuthering Heights is described as ‘too odiously and abominably pagan to be palatable to the most vitiated class of English readers.’ This no doubt was Miss Rigby’s interpolation in the proofs in reply to her editor’s suggestion that she should ‘glance at the novels by Acton and Ellis Bell.’ It is a little difficult to understand the Quarterly editor’s method, or, indeed, the letter to Miss Rigby which I have quoted, as he had formed a very different estimate of the book many months before. ‘I have finished the adventures of Miss Jane Eyre,’ he writes to Mrs. Hope (Dec. 29th, 1847), ‘and think her far the cleverest that has written since Austen and Edgeworth were in their prime, worth fifty Trollopes and Martineaus rolled into one counterpane, with fifty Dickenses and Bulwers to keep them company — but rather a brazen Miss.’
When the Quarterly Review appeared, Charlotte Brontë, as we have seen, was in dire domestic distress, and it was not till many months later, when a new edition of Jane Eyre was projected, that she discussed with her publishers the desirability of an effective reply, which was not however to disclose her sex and environment. A first preface called ‘A Word to the Quarterly’ was cancelled, and after some debate, the preface which we now have took its place. The ‘book’ is of course Shirley.
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
‘August 29th, 1849.
‘Dear Sir, — The book is now finished (thank God) and ready for Mr. Taylor, but I have not yet heard from him. I thought I should be able to tell whether it was equal to Jane Eyre or not, but I find I cannot — it may be better, it may be worse. I shall be curious to hear your opinion, my own is of no value. I send the Preface or “Word to the Quarterly” for your perusal.
‘Whatever now becomes of the work, the occupation of writing it has been a boon to me. It took me out of dark and desolate reality into an unreal but happier region. The worst of it is, my eyes are grown somewhat weak and my head somewhat weary and prone to ache with close work. You can write nothing of value unless you give yourself wholly to the theme, and when you so give yourself, you lose appetite and sleep — it cannot be helped.
‘At what time does Mr. Smith intend to bring the book out? It is his now. I hand it and all the trouble and care and anxiety over to him — a good riddance, only I wish he fairly had it. — Yours sincerely,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
‘August 31st, 1849.
‘My dear Sir, — I cannot change my preface. I can shed no tears before the public, nor utter any groan in the public ear. The deep, real tragedy of our domestic experience is yet terribly fresh in my mind and memory. It is not a time to be talked about to the indifferent; it is not a topic for allusion to in print.
‘No righteous indignation can I lavish on the Quarterly. I can condescend but to touch it with the lightest satire. Believe me, my dear sir, “C. Brontë” must not here appear; what she feels or has felt is not the question — it is “Currer Bell” who was insulted — he must reply. Let Mr. Smith fearlessly print the preface I have sent — let him depend upon me this once; even if I prove a broken reed, his fall cannot be dangerous: a preface is a short distance, it is n
ot three volumes.
‘I have always felt certain that it is a deplorable error in an author to assume the tragic tone in addressing the public about his own wrongs or griefs. What does the public care about him as an individual? His wrongs are its sport; his griefs would be a bore. What we deeply feel is our own — we must keep it to ourselves. Ellis and Acton Bell were, for me, Emily and Anne; my sisters — to me intimately near, tenderly dear — to the public they were nothing — worse than nothing — beings speculated upon, misunderstood, misrepresented. If I live, the hour may come when the spirit will move me to speak of them, but it is not come yet. — I am, my dear sir, yours sincerely,
Delphi Complete Works of the Brontes Page 513
