Gentlemen
I beg to submit to your consideration the accompanying Manuscript – I should be glad to learn whether it be such as you approve and would undertake to publish – at as early a period as possible. Address – Mr Currer Bell Under cover to Miss Brontë Haworth Bradford Yorkshire
July 15th /47
Messrs Smith & Elder Cornhill56
So low were her expectations that she did not even bother to parcel up the manuscript in new paper, simply crossing out the last address and writing in the new. As George Smith later commented, ‘This was not calculated to prepossess us in favour of the MS. It was clear that we were offered what had been already rejected elsewhere’. It must have come as no surprise to Charlotte when she received no reply, but after an anxious wait of three weeks she was concerned enough to write again to check that the manuscript had arrived safely and to enclose a stamped addressed envelope for Smith, Elder & Co.’s answer.57
What Charlotte could not know was that William Smith Williams, the firm’s reader, had recognized the ‘great literary power’ of The Professor, but did not believe it would sell. He consulted the young proprietor of the firm George Smith, and they agreed to send a letter of ‘appreciative criticism’ declining the work but expressing the opinion that Currer Bell was capable of producing a book which would command success.58 Three days after sending her stamped addressed envelope, Charlotte was astonished to receive a reply. Opening it, ‘in the dreary expectation of finding two hard hopeless lines, intimating that Messrs. Smith and Elder “were not disposed to publish the MS.”’, she found instead a two-page letter which she read in trembling excitement.
It declined, indeed, to publish that tale, for business reasons, but it discussed its merits and demerits so courteously, so considerately, in a spirit so rational, with a discrimination so enlightened, that this very refusal cheered the author better than a vulgarly-expressed acceptance would have done. It was added, that a work in three volumes would meet with careful attention.59
Still reluctant to abandon her cherished first novel, Charlotte wrote back to plead again for The Professor.
Your objection to the want of varied interest in the tale is, I am aware, not without grounds – yet it appears to me that it might be published without serious risk if its appearance were speedily followed up by another work from the same pen of a more striking and exciting character. The first work might serve as an introduction and accustom the public to the author’s name, the success of the second might thereby be rendered more probable.60
Smith, Elder & Co. declined to accept this specious argument and politely rejected The Professor once more while expressing their willingness to see Charlotte’s new work – a ‘narrative in 3 vols. now in progress and nearly completed, to which I have endeavoured to impart a more vivid interest than belongs to the Professor’.61 Charlotte estimated that it would take her about a month to complete Jane Eyre, but the tantalizing prospect of an interested publisher spurred her faster. The fair copy of the manuscript was finished in just over two weeks and posted off by rail from Keighley on 24 August. The new station would not accept a prepaid parcel, so Charlotte asked Smith, Elder & Co. to let her know the cost so that she could reimburse them in postage stamps. Her naive suspicion regarding the ‘excessive parsimony of London publishers in regard to postage stamps’ seems to have both touched and amused the gentlemen of Smith, Elder & Co., but, to their credit, it did not lead them to underrate their potential new author.62
While Charlotte spent an anxious fortnight awaiting their judgement, the readers at Smith, Elder & Co. were united in their opinion of Jane Eyre. One young reader was so ‘powerfully struck’ by the tale that his enthusiasm caused merriment: ‘You seem to have been so enchanted, that I do not know how to believe you’, George Smith laughingly declared. When William Smith Williams, who was a more clear-headed judge of literary matters, confessed that he had sat up half the night to finish the manuscript, George Smith was intrigued and, at Williams’ behest, read it for himself.
He brought it to me on a Saturday, and said that he would like me to read it. There were no Saturday half-holidays in those days, and, as was usual, I did not reach home until late. I had made an appointment with a friend for Sunday morning; I was to meet him about twelve o’clock, at a place some two or three miles from our house, and ride with him into the country.
After breakfast on Sunday morning I took the MS. of ’Jane Eyre’ to my little study, and began to read it. The story quickly took me captive. Before twelve o’clock my horse came to the door, but I could not put the book down. I scribbled two or three lines to my friend, saying I was very sorry that circumstances had arisen to prevent my meeting him, sent the note off by my groom, and went on reading the MS. Presently the servant came to tell me that luncheon was ready; I asked him to bring me a sandwich and a glass of wine, and still went on with ‘Jane Eyre.’ Dinner came; for me the meal was a very hasty one, and before I went to bed that night I had finished reading the manuscript.63
In the subsequent light of Jane Eyre’s phenomenal success, George Smith always gave the impression that his firm had instantly recognized the novel’s potential and accepted it with unqualified enthusiasm. In fact, events at the time suggest a rather different story. Though it may be true that George Smith accepted the book for publication the day after he read the manuscript, he was nevertheless a hard-headed man of business and did not let his enthusiasm run away with him. The terms on which it was to be published were not overly generous, even for a first-time author. ‘Currer Bell’ was offered one hundred pounds for the copyright on condition that Smith Elder & Co. had first right of refusal on ‘his’ next two books, for which ‘he’ was also to receive one hundred pounds each. In the event, with further editions and foreign rights, the actual payments were in the region of five hundred pounds per novel; even so, by comparison with, for instance, the eight hundred pounds paid to Mrs Gaskell for the English copyright alone of her two-volume biography of Charlotte, the money on offer was poor.64 Though Charlotte remained loyal to Smith, Elder & Co. because the firm had been the first to recognize her talent, the issue of her remuneration was always to be a touchy subject.
Charlotte was no fool and was well aware that the contract offered by Smith, Elder & Co. would not guarantee her the capability of earning her living solely from writing. Given the temptation to accept the offer of publication on any terms that did not actually impoverish her, Charlotte proved to be less naive than the firm might have expected. ‘In accepting your terms, I trust much to your equity and sense of justice’, she told them, before adding:
One hundred pounds is a small sum for a year’s intellectual labour, nor would circumstances justify me in devoting my time and attention to literary pursuits with so narrow a prospect of advantage did I not feel convinced that in case the ultimate result of my efforts should prove more successful than you now anticipate, you would make some proportionate addition to the remuneration you at present offer. On this ground of confidence in your generosity and honour, I accept your conditions.65
While Charlotte was prepared to give way on the subject of payment, she was completely intransigent on the question of making further alterations to her manuscript. She might doubt her own financial acumen but never her literary judgement. Interestingly, since they never admitted to this publicly, her publishers seem to have had considerable doubts about the chapters on Jane Eyre’s childhood and, in particular, on Lowood School, suggesting that she should rewrite them. Charlotte thanked the firm for their ‘judicious remarks and sound advice’, but then added with more firmness than truth:
I am not however in a position to follow the advice; my engagements will not permit me to revise ‘Jane Eyre’ a third time, and perhaps there is little to regret in the circumstance; you probably know from personal experience that an author never writes well till he has got into the full spirit of his work, and were I to retrench, to alter and to add now when I am uninterested and cold, I know I s
hould only further injure what may be already defective. Perhaps too the first part of ‘Jane Eyre’ may suit the public taste better than you anticipate – for it is true and Truth has a severe charm of its own. Had I told all the truth, I might indeed have made it far more exquisitely painful – but I deemed it advisable to soften and retrench many particulars lest the narrative should rather displease than attract.66
Perhaps feeling that she had been a little too uncompromising in defence of Jane Eyre, Charlotte tried to take a more emollient line on the next book, which she was now committed to writing.
I shall be happy … to receive any advice you can give me as to choice of subject or style of treatment in my next effort – and if you can point out any works peculiarly remarkable for the qualities in which I am deficient, I would study them carefully and endeavour to remedy my errors.
Allow me in conclusion to express my sense of the punctuality, straightforwardness and intelligence which have hitherto marked your dealings with me.
And believe me Gentlemen
Yours respectfully
C Bell.
Since you have no use for ‘the Professor’, I shall be obliged if you will return the MS.S. Address as usual to Miss Brontë &c.67
At this juncture, clearly not appreciating how fast Smith, Elder & Co. would act, Charlotte went off to Brookroyd to have a short holiday with Ellen Nussey. Within six days of accepting their terms, she had not only received the first proof pages, which her sisters forwarded to her, but also marked the few errors they contained and returned them to 65, Cornhill. Of necessity, this had to be done under Ellen’s nose. Charlotte was still bound by her vow to Emily and Anne to keep their authorship secret, so the fact that she did her proofreading openly in front of her friend was the closest she could come to confiding in Ellen without breaking the letter of her agreement with her sisters. The spirit of that agreement was clearly broken, but fortunately Ellen was canny enough to recognize that she must maintain the conspiracy of silence; she never even hinted to Emily and Anne that she was aware of the sisters’ secret.68
Charlotte returned home on 23 September, missing her connection at Leeds and so having to ‘cool my heels at the station for 2 hours’ till the next train to Keighley and then having a ‘very wet, windy walk’ back to Haworth. Her boxes arrived the next day, having been surreptitiously packed with presents by Ellen: Patrick sent his thanks for a useful firescreen and Tabby Aykroyd ‘was charmed’ with her cap, declaring ‘she never thought of naught o’ t’ sort as Miss Nussey sending her aught –’. There were gifts for Anne, whose health was still delicate after the coughs and colds of the winter and spring, and Emily too. ‘I was infuriated on finding a jar in my trunk’, Charlotte scolded her friend:
– at first I hoped it was empty but when I found it heavy and replete I could have hurled it all the way back to Birstal – however the inscription A—B— softened me much – it was at once kind and villanous in you to send it – you ought first to be tenderly kissed and then afterwards as tenderly whipped –
Emily is just now sitting on the floor of the bed-room where I am writing, looking at her apples – she smiled when I gave
Ten days later, Anne wrote a rare letter to Ellen, thanking her for the jar of medicinal crab-cheese which ‘is excellent, and likely to be very useful, but I don’t intend to need it’ and for her ‘unexpected and welcome epistle’. Charlotte had evidently complained at length to Ellen and expressed her fears about the prevailing east wind, which always brought sickness in its wake: she had felt its influence ‘as usual’. Anne, too, had suffered from its ill effects
in some degree, as I always do, more or less; but this time, it brought me no reinforcement of colds and coughs which is what I dread the most. Emily considers it a ‘dry uninteresting wind’, but it does not affect her nervous system … I have no news to tell you except that Mr Nicholl’s begged a holiday and went to Ireland three or four weeks ago, and is not expected back till Saturday – but that I dare say is no news at all.70
Poor Mr Nicholls, who was so uninteresting even to the normally kind and gentle Anne, attracted nothing but disapproval from Charlotte. ‘Mr Nicholls is not yet returned but is expected next week’, she told Ellen in her turn.
I am sorry to say that many of the parishioners express a desire that he should not trouble himself to re-cross the channel but should remain quietly where he is – This is not the feeling that ought to exist between shepherd and flock – it is not such as is prevalent at Birstal – it is not such as poor Mr W[e]ightman excited.71
Charlotte’s hostility may have owed something to the fact that rumours were still afloat that she was ‘about to be married to her papa’s Curate’. Certainly, she herself had been expecting his imminent removal to a new parish earlier in the summer and the fact that he seems not to have sought any promotion away from Haworth may have encouraged gossip about his intentions towards Charlotte. Ellen, too, was no doubt teasing her friend by praising the young curate in her letters, provoking a sharp retort from Charlotte: ‘I cannot for my life see those interesting germs of goodness in him you discovered, his narrowness of mind always strikes me chiefly – I fear he is indebted to your imagination for his hidden treasures.’72
Anne’s somewhat disingenuous claim that she had no news to tell Ellen concealed the facts that she also was about to have a novel published and was now working on a second novel herself. It is not possible to discover exactly when she began it, but the likelihood is that it had been prompted by the unexpected visit to the parsonage in April of Mrs Collins, the long-suffering wife of the former curate of Keighley. Her frank ‘narrative of her appalling distresses’, which included a description of the ‘infamous career of vice’ run by her husband, his abandoning of her and their two children, absolutely penniless, ‘to disease and total destitution’ in Manchester and her slow fight back to health and respectability, had taken two hours in the telling and won the horrified sympathy and admiration of the Brontës.73 Anne seems to have been especially fascinated by the fact that Mrs Collins had not only survived the physical and mental degradation of her marriage but emerged as an independent and morally strong woman – and in doing so had saved her children from corruption at the hands of their father. This idea was to be the basis of Anne’s second novel, a book which was to be so profoundly disturbing to contemporary ideas of decency that it was to sink without trace for almost 150 years after its conception. In Helen Graham she created a heroine who would rise above the depravity of her husband and his circle, have the courage to leave him and earn her own living and yet have the compassion to go back to comfort him as he lay dying. In Arthur Huntingdon, she created a fallible and not entirely unlikeable sinner, whose gradual decline into drunkenness and vice is more the result of moral weakness than actual criminality: her model for this character, famously, was her brother Branwell.
With her usual patronizing attitude towards her youngest sister, Charlotte dismissed The Tenant of Wild fell Hall out of hand. ‘The choice of subject was an entire mistake. Nothing less congruous with the writer’s nature could be conceived.’74 Yet Charlotte could not argue with the central thesis of the book which expressed a view she had herself expounded in connection with her brother. Writing to her old headmistress, Miss Wooler, at the beginning of the previous year Charlotte had commented:
You ask me if I do not think that men are strange beings – I do indeed, I have often thought so – and I think too that the mode of bringing them up is strange, they are not half sufficiently guarded from temptation – Girls are protected as if they were something very frail and silly indeed while boys are turned loose on the world as if they – of all beings in existence, were the wisest and the least liable to be led astray.75
This question of the differences in the education of boys and girls had obviously been much discuss
ed at the parsonage, where Branwell’s freedom to pursue his own interests as a young man had contrasted so sharply with the enforced subjection to discipline and duty which had ruled his sisters’ lives. The fact that Branwell had failed to fulfil his early talents was daily impressed on them as he drank himself insensible or wallowed in self-pity and depression. It was no wonder, then, that Anne saw it as her duty to expose the fallacy of current education in a series of passionate arguments, attacking the idea that girls were hothouse plants to be guarded against every evil, and boys were hardy trees capable of withstanding every assault on their morals.
You would have us encourage our sons to prove all things by their own experience, while our daughters must not even profit by the experience of others. Now I would have both so to benefit by the experience of others, and the precepts of a higher authority, that they should know beforehand to refuse the evil and choose the good, and require no experimental proofs to teach them the evil of transgression. I would not send a poor girl into the world, unarmed against her foes, and ignorant of the snares that beset her path: nor would I watch and guard her, till, deprived of self-respect and self-reliance, she lost the power, or the will to watch and guard herself; – and as for my son – if I thought he would grow up to be what you call a man of the world – one that has ‘seen life,’ and glories in his experience, even though he should so far profit by it, as to sober down, at length, into a useful and respected member of society – I would rather that he died to-morrow! – rather a thousand times!76
Anne herself declared that her book had not been written in vain if it deterred one young man from following in Huntingdon’s footsteps or prevented one thoughtless girl from falling into ‘the very natural error’ of her heroine.77 Charlotte, always more conventional than her youngest sister, felt it necessary to apologize for Anne’s ‘pure, but, I think, slightly morbid’ motives in choosing her subject:
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