She had, in the course of her life, been called on to contemplate, near at hand and for a long time, the terrible effects of talents misused and faculties abused; hers was naturally a sensitive, reserved, and dejected nature; what she saw sank very deeply into her mind; it did her harm. She brooded over it till she believed it to be a duty to reproduce every detail (of course with fictitious characters, incidents, and situations) as a warning to others. She hated her work, but would pursue it. When reasoned with on the subject, she regarded such reasonings as a temptation to self-indulgence. She must be honest; she must not varnish, soften, or conceal.78
Anne herself took a much more robust view of her purpose in writing the book, setting forth her views without apology in her preface to the second edition.
My object in writing the following pages, was not simply to amuse the Reader, neither was it to gratify my own taste, nor yet to ingratiate myself with the Press and the Public: I wished to tell the truth, for truth always conveys its own moral to those who are able to receive it
She also took a much stronger stance on the necessity of portraying her scenes of debauchery realistically, fighting her corner with an energy and intelligence for which Charlotte was incapable of giving her credit.
when we have to do with vice and vicious characters, I maintain it is better to depict them as they really are than as they would wish to appear. To represent a bad thing in its least offensive light, is doubtless the most agreeable course for a writer of fiction to pursue; but is it the most honest, or the safest? Is it better to reveal the snares and pitfalls of life to the young and thoughtless traveller, or to cover them with branches and flowers? O Reader! if there were less of this delicate concealment of facts – this whispering ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace, there would be less of sin and misery to the young of both sexes who are left to wring their bitter knowledge from experience.79
Though Charlotte suggested that Anne wrote her book out of a sense of duty, and a distasteful one at that, the tone of much of The Tenant of Wild fell Hall belies this. The scenes with Gilbert Markham’s family in particular are full of teasing good humour and are an eminently successful attempt to portray a cheerful and normal family whose preoccupation with the everyday is in complete contrast to the sordid mystery of Helen Graham’s life. Like Charlotte herself when writing Jane Eyre, Anne seems to have got caught up in her story to the exclusion of all else and to the detriment of her health. ‘I would fain hope that her health is a little stronger than it was – and her spirits a little better –’, Charlotte wrote to Ellen in the October, ‘but she leads much too sedentary a life, and is continually sitting stooping either over a book or over her desk – it is with difficulty one can prevail on her to take a walk or induce her to converse.’80
The fact that Emily, unlike her sisters, did not produce a second novel has caused much argument. Some claim that Wuthering Heights is such an astonishing and powerful novel that Emily exhausted all her genius in writing it. Others, that its poor reviews led her to scorn the very idea of setting another work before an uncomprehending public. Though widely accepted, both views are wrong. There can be little doubt that Emily did embark on a second novel. ‘Neither Ellis nor Acton allowed herself for one moment to sink under want of encouragement’, Charlotte claimed; ‘energy nerved the one, and endurance upheld the other. They were both prepared to try again.’81 Certainly, despite the singularity of Wuthering Heights, Emily was not short of material for a new novel and could have effectively plundered Gondal again for further inspiration. Nor would poor reviews have discouraged her, for if she had begun her next work before her first was published, as both Charlotte and Anne did, there was no reason for her to expect a critical savaging. The almost complete absence of manuscript material for the last two years of her life suggests that she was working on another project, channelling all her energies into this, just as she had done when writing Wuthering Heights. Though the evidence is admittedly inconclusive, further weight is lent to the argument by the existence of a letter from her publisher, Thomas Cautley Newby, addressed to Ellis Bell.
Dear Sir,
I am much obliged by your kind note & shall have great pleasure in making arrangements for your next novel. I would not hurry its completion, for I think you are quite right not to let it go before the world until well satisfied with it, for much depends on your new work if it be an improvement on your first you will have established yourself as a first rate novelist, but if it fall short the Critics will be too apt to say that you have expended your talent in your first novel. I shall therefore, have pleasure in accepting it upon the understanding that its completion be at your own time.
Believe me
My dear Sir
Yrs sincerely
T C Newby
Feb. 15.184882
It has been suggested that this letter was actually intended for Anne and referred to The Tenant of Wild fell Hall. Though Newby notoriously confused Ellis and Acton Bell in an advertisement in The Examiner the previous month, describing Wuthering Heights as ‘Acton Bell’s successful new novel’, this does not automatically mean that he was confused about the identity of his correspondent. The content of his letter is undoubtedly more applicable to Ellis than Acton Bell, for though the reviewers were hardly enthusiastic about Wuthering Heights, they gave it far more coverage than Agnes Grey, which was virtually ignored. Newby’s letter, indeed, reflects the comment in a review which appeared in that very same issue of The Examiner: ‘If this book be, as we apprehend it is the first work of the author, we hope that he will produce a second, – giving himself more time in its composition than in the present case.’83 What could be more natural than that, having read this encouraging comment, Emily should write to Newby offering him her second novel but requesting that she should be given time to complete and revise it?
If, then, as seems almost certain, Emily did begin a second novel, we are faced with the problem of what became of the manuscript, why it was never published and why it is never mentioned in extant correspondence. The most obvious solution is that the novel was never completed and was therefore destroyed. The reviews of Wuthering Heights had not been so damning that its author might feel disinclined to complete or publish a second novel, but it is possible that, as the person with responsibility for running the parsonage household, Emily found it increasingly difficult to find time for the dull and time-consuming task of revision as first Branwell and then she herself fell ill. Given that Emily fought to the very end against her consumption and refused to make any physical concessions, it is unlikely that she had the mental energy to complete the book after September 1848. Similarly, as she did not accept that her death was inevitable, there is no reason to suppose that she made plans for that contingency and destroyed the unfinished manuscript herself.
The possibility, therefore, is that this was done by Charlotte after Emily’s death, an act that would also explain Charlotte’s silence on the subject of her sister’s second novel. There are two good reasons why Charlotte might have been the perpetrator of this act of wilful destruction. Firstly, as her reaction to The Tenant of Wildfell Hall shows, Charlotte believed very strongly that there were certain subjects which were not suitable for novelistic treatment. If Emily’s novel was a second dipping into the murky waters of Gondal then Charlotte could well have felt that its subject ‘was an entire mistake’ and that it should not go to press – especially if it was incomplete. Secondly, Charlotte was immensely protective of her sister’s reputation. Admiring yet also fearing her ‘unbending’ spirit, Charlotte believed that ‘an interpreter ought always to have stood between her and the world’ and appointed herself to that task. Just as she had an unalterable image in her mind of Anne as timid, gentle and unoriginal, so she had a mirror image of Emily as the stern, inflexible and yet innocent possessor of a ‘secret power and fire’. If the second novel would have merely reinforced the criticisms which had been expressed, sometimes with extreme savagery, about Wuthering Heights,
then Charlotte may have felt it her duty to protect her sister from its consequences. ‘Whether it is right or advisable to create beings like Heathcliff, I do not know’, Charlotte wrote in 1850, adding, ‘I scarcely think it is.’84 If the central character of Emily’s second novel was similarly unredeemed, Charlotte had her justification for preventing its publication. To destroy the manuscript would be to leave the world with the impression that Emily was indeed a ‘giant’ and a ‘baby god’ whom death had cut off in her prime before she could fully develop the powers within her. If that was Charlotte’s intention, then she succeeded beyond her wildest dreams.
While Emily and Anne laboured over their manuscripts, Charlotte was putting the finishing touches to the proofs of Jane Eyre. She was grateful to Smith, Elder & Co. for relieving her of the burden of punctuation, ‘as I found the task very puzzling – and besides I consider your mode of punctuation a great deal more correct and rational than my own’.85 There would be no preface to Jane Eyre, she decided, no doubt because it would be impossible to write one without some allusion to the sex and circumstances of the author; ironically, in accepting her publisher’s suggestion that ‘an autobiography’ should be added as a subtitle, she inadvertently contributed to the speculation.86 On the morning of 19 October 1847, Charlotte received the first six copies of her new novel, printed in three volumes and bound in cloth covers. ‘You have given the work every advantage which good paper, clear type and a seemly outside can supply –’, she told her publishers: ‘if it fails – the fault will lie with the author – you are exempt.’87 She then possessed her soul with patience and braced herself for the reviews.
The first wave of newspaper notices were somewhat disappointing: Charlotte felt that the one in the Literary Gazette had been ‘indited in rather a flat mood’ and that in the Athenaeum had ‘a style of its own which I respect, but cannot exactly relish’. She reconciled herself to their muted praise by recognizing ‘that journals of that standing have a dignity to maintain which would be deranged by a too cordial recognition of the claims of an obscure author’, adding rather wistfully, ‘– I suppose there is every reason to be satisfied – Meantime a brisk sale would be an effectual support under the hauteur of lofty critics’.88 Hard on the heels of these reviews, however, came praise of a type and from a source which thrilled Charlotte. Her greatest literary hero, William Makepeace Thackeray, had been sent a pre-publication copy of the book, prompting a reply which William Smith Williams passed on to Charlotte.
I wish you had not sent me Jane Eyre. It interested me so much that I have lost (or won if you like) a whole day in reading it at the busiest period, with the printers I know waiting for copy. Who the author can be I can’t guess – if a woman she knows her language better than most ladies do, or has had a ‘classical’ education. It is a fine book though – the man & woman capital – the style very generous and upright so to speak … Some of the love passages made me cry – to the astonishment of John who came in with the coals. St John the Missionary is a failure I think but a good failure there are parts excellent I dont know why I tell you this but that I have been exceedingly moved & pleased by Jane Eyre. It is a womans writing, but whose? Give my respects and thanks to the author – whose novel is the first English one (& the French are only romances now) that I’ve been able to read for many a day.89
Though this was praise and recognition of the sort Charlotte had longed for all her life, she seems to have been determined to keep her expectations low. Ruthlessly crushing her gratification, Charlotte drafted a careful reply back to Mr Williams, telling him with deliberate understatement that his letter had been ‘very pleasant to me to read … very cheering to reflect on.’ ‘I feel honoured in being approved by Mr Thackeray because I approve Mr Thackeray’, she explained. ‘One good word from such a man is worth pages of praise from ordinary judges.’90
The ‘ordinary judges’, whom Charlotte had feared would find nothing to approve in her ‘mere domestic novel’, were soon to fall over themselves in their eagerness to praise what one critic called ‘decidedly the best novel of the season’.91 The Critic congratulated itself on its perspicacity in noting Currer Bell’s earlier work, Poems, and described Jane Eyre as ‘a story of surpassing interest’ and one which ‘we can cordially recommend … to our readers, as a novel to be placed at the top of the list to be borrowed, and to the circulating-library keeper, as one which he may safely order. It is sure to be in demand.’ ‘There can be no question but that Jane Eyre is a very clever book. Indeed it is a book of decided power’, trumpeted The Examiner. The Era went one better:
This is an extraordinary book. Although a work of fiction, it is no mere novel, for there is nothing but nature and truth about it, and its interest is entirely domestic; neither is it like your familiar writings, that are too close to reality. There is nothing morbid, nothing vague, nothing improbable about the story of Jane Eyre; at the same time it lacks neither the odour of romance nor the hue of sentiment … The story is, therefore, unlike all that we have read, with very few exceptions; and for power of thought and expression, we do not know its rival among modern productions … all the serious novel writers of the day lose in comparison with Currer Bell.92
Reading the litany of critical commendations sent to her with meticulous care by William Smith Williams, Charlotte was almost dazed. ‘There are moments when I can hardly credit that anything I have done should
Most reviewers managed to find the ‘obvious moral’ in the tale: ‘that laws, both human and divine, approved in our calmer moments, are not to be disobeyed when our time of trial comes, however singular the “circumstances” under which we are tempted to disregard them’. The only dissonant note came from the Spectator, which criticized the ‘low tone of behaviour (rather than of morality) in the book’. Charlotte, who hardly dared trust to the critics’ approval, panicked at this. ‘The way to detraction has been pointed out and will probably be pursued’, she explained with a perception that was to be justified by later reviews; ‘I fear this turn of opinion will not improve the demand for the book – but time will shew; if “Jane Eyre” has any solid worth in it – it ought to weather a gust of unfavourable wind –’94
In fact, demand for Jane Eyre was almost unprecedented. The first edition of, probably, some 2,500 copies, was published on 16 October 1847; it had sold out within three months and the book was to be reprinted in January and again the following April.95 By any standard, Jane Eyre was a resounding success.
The same could not be said of Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey. Though Newby had agreed to their publication long before Charlotte had even finished writing Jane Eyre, he had not sent out the first proof-sheets until the beginning of August. While Jane Eyre was completed, typeset, bound, published and getting its earliest reviews, they still languished at Mr Newby’s. Sensible of the contrast between her own treatment and that of her sisters, Charlotte wrote to ask Mr Williams if Mr Newby often acted in this way, or whether this was simply an exceptional instance of his methods.
Mr Newby … does not do business like Messrs Smith & Elder; a different spirit seems to preside at 72. Mortimer Street to that which guides the helm at 65. Cornhill. Mr Newby shuffles, gives his word and breaks it; Messrs Smith & Elders performance is always better than their promise. My relatives have suffered from exhausting delay and procrastination, while I have to acknowledge the benefits of a management at once business-like and gentlemanlike, energetic and considerate.96
It is worth pointing out at this stage that Smith, Elder & Co. was a relatively new firm which had been founded in 1816 by two Scots, George Smith, senior, and Alexander Elder. Their publishing list was not particularly impressive, the most popular work being a fourteen-year run of the periodical Friendship’s Offering and their most prestigious some distinguis
hed scientific works, including Sir Humphry Davy’s collected Works in nine volumes and Charles Darwin’s Zoology of the Voyage of the Beagle in five volumes. More recently they had published Sir John Herschel’s Results of Astronomical Observations made during the years 1834–8 at the Cape of Good Hope, R. H. Horne’s The New Spirit of the Age and John Ruskin’s first work, Modern Painters. Both of the latter works had been published under the aegis of George Smith, junior, who had joined the firm at the age of fourteen and, on his father’s death in 1846, had taken over the management of its publishing concerns. In 1847, when he accepted Jane Eyre, he was still only twenty-three years old and had yet to transform the firm into the highly respected and financially successful concern that it became.97 Despite his youth, he was astute, both as a businessman and as a judge of character. He had spotted William Smith Williams wasting his remarkable literary gifts as a book keeper to a firm of lithographers and, on discovering that he hated his employment and spent his spare time working as a theatre critic for the Spectator, invited him to join Smith, Elder & Co. as his own literary assistant and general manager of the publishing department. Williams had only taken up his post with the firm in the year before Charlotte submitted The Professor and, as the author of her courteous and discriminating letter of rejection, was directly responsible for attracting one of its most famous and best-selling authors to Smith, Elder & Co.98 In later years, particularly after the deaths of her brother and sisters, Charlotte was to rely increasingly on his shrewd literary judgement and his friendship for moral support.
In sharp contrast to the newly dynamic Smith, Elder & Co., Thomas Cautley Newby was a sole operator who had set himself up as a publisher in Mortimer Street off Cavendish Square in 1820. Though he ran a varied list, ranging from novels to travel books and manuals, he had published nothing of any note over the years; Wuthering Heights, Agnes Grey, The Tenant ofWildfell Hall and Anthony Trollope’s first novel, The Macdermots of Ballycloran, were his only claims to fame in later years.99 In view of his poor treatment of Emily and Anne, it is worth comparing their experience with that, in exactly the same year, of Anthony Trollope, whose mother, one of the most popular novelists of the day, secured the best deal she could on his behalf: Newby was to print the book at his own expense and give its author half its profits. ‘Many a young author expects much from such an undertaking’, Trollope later wrote in his autobiography,
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