'Give my love to Mercy and your mother, and,—Believe me, yours sincerely,

'CA'IRA.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'RAWDON, March 3rd, 1841.

'MY DEAR ELLEN,—I dare say you have received a valentine this year from our bonny-faced friend the curate of Haworth. I got a precious specimen a few days before I left home, but I knew better how to treat it than I did those we received a year ago. I am up to the dodges and artifices of his lordship's character. He knows I know him, and you cannot conceive how quiet and respectful he has long been. Mind I am not writing against him—I never will do that. I like him very much. I honour and admire his generous, open disposition, and sweet temper—but for all the tricks, wiles, and insincerities of love, the gentleman has not his match for twenty miles round. He would fain persuade every woman under thirty whom he sees that he is desperately in love with her. I have a great deal more to say, but I have not a moment's time to write it in. My dear Ellen, do write to me soon, don't forget.—Good-bye.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'March 21st, 1841.

'MY DEAREST ELLEN,—I do not know how to wear your pretty little handcuffs. When you come you shall explain the mystery. I send you the precious valentine. Make much of it. Remember the writer's blue eyes, auburn hair, and rosy cheeks. You may consider the concern addressed to yourself, for I have no doubt he intended it to suit anybody.

'Fare-thee-well.

'C. B.'

Then there are these slighter inferences, that concerning Anne being particularly interesting.

'Write long letters to me, and tell me everything you can think of, and about everybody. "His young reverence," as you tenderly call him, is looking delicate and pale; poor thing, don't you pity him? I do from my heart! When he is well, and fat, and jovial, I never think of him, but when anything ails him I am always sorry. He sits opposite to Anne at church, sighing softly, and looking out of the corners of his eyes to win her attention, and Anne is so quiet, her look so downcast, they are a picture.'

'July 19th, 1841.

'Our revered friend, W. W., is quite as bonny, pleasant, lighthearted, good-tempered, generous, careless, fickle, and unclerical as ever. He keeps up his correspondence with Agnes Walton. During the last spring he went to Appleby, and stayed upwards of a month.'

During the governess and Brussels episodes in Charlotte's life we lose sight of Mr. Weightman, and the next record is of his death, which took place in September 1842, while Charlotte and Emily were in Brussels. Mr. Bronte preached the funeral sermon, {287} stating by way of introduction that for the twenty years and more that he had been in Haworth he had never before read his sermon. 'This is owing to a conviction in my mind,' he says, 'that in general, for the ordinary run of hearers, extempore preaching, though accompanied with some peculiar disadvantages, is more likely to be of a colloquial nature, and better adapted, on the whole, to the majority.' His departure from the practice on this occasion, he explains, is due to the request that his sermon should be printed.

Mr. Weightman, he told his hearers, was a native of Westmoreland, educated at the University of Durham. 'While he was there,' continued Mr. Bronte, 'I applied to the justly venerated Apostolical Bishop of this diocese, requesting his Lordship to send me a curate adequate to the wants and wishes of the parishioners. This application was not in vain. Our Diocesan, in the scriptural character of the Overlooker and Head of his clergy, made an admirable choice, which more than answered my expectations, and probably yours. The Church Pastoral Aid Society, in their pious liberality, lent their pecuniary aid, without which all efforts must have failed.' 'He had classical attainments of the first order, and, above all, his religious principles were sound and orthodox,' concludes Mr. Bronte. Mr. Weightman was twenty-six years of age when he died. His successor was Mr. Peter Augustus Smith, whom Charlotte Bronte has made famous in Shirley as Mr. Malone, curate of Briarfield. Mr. Smith was Mr. A. B. Nicholls's predecessor at Haworth. Here is Charlotte Bronte's vigorous treatment of him in a letter to her friend.

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'January 26th, 1844.

'DEAR NELL,—We were all very glad to get your letter this morning. We, I say, as both papa and Emily were anxious to hear of the safe arrival of yourself and the little varmint. {288}

'As you conjecture, Emily and I set to shirt-making the very day after you left, and we have stuck to it pretty closely ever since. We miss your society at least as much as you miss ours, depend upon it. Would that you were within calling distance, that you could as you say burst in upon us in an afternoon, and, being despoiled of your bonnet and shawl, be fixed in the rocking-chair for the evening once or twice every week. I certainly cherished a dream during your stay that such might one day be the case, but the dream is somewhat dissipating. I allude of course to Mr. Smith, to whom you do not allude in your letter, and I think you foolish for the omission. I say the dream is dissipating, because Mr. Smith has not mentioned your name since you left, except once when papa said you were a nice girl, he said, "Yes, she is a nice girl—rather quiet. I suppose she has money," and that is all. I think the words speak volumes; they do not prejudice one in favour of Mr. Smith. I can well believe what papa has often affirmed, and continues to affirm, i.e., that Mr. Smith is a very fickle man, that if he marries he will soon get tired of his wife, and consider her as a burden, also that money will be a principal consideration with him in marrying.

'Papa has two or three times expressed a fear that since Mr. Smith paid you so much attention he will perhaps have made an impression on your mind which will interfere with your comfort. I tell him I think not, as I believe you to be mistress of yourself in those matters. Still, he keeps saying that I am to write to you and dissuade you from thinking of him. I never saw papa make himself so uneasy about a thing of the kind before; he is usually very sarcastic on such subjects.

'Mr. Smith be hanged! I never thought very well of him, and I am much disposed to think very ill of him at this blessed minute. I have discussed the subject fully, for where is the use of being mysterious and constrained?—it is not worth while.

'Be sure you write to me and immediately, and tell me whether you have given up eating and drinking altogether. I am not surprised at people thinking you looked pale and thin. I shall expect another letter on Thursday—don't disappoint me.

'My best regards to your mother and sisters.—Yours, somewhat irritated,

'C. B.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'DEAR NELL,—I did not "swear at the postman" when I saw another letter from you. And I hope you will not "swear" at me when I tell you that I cannot think of leaving home at present, even to have the pleasure of joining you at Harrogate, but I am obliged to you for thinking of me. I have nothing new about Rev. Lothario Smith. I think I like him a little bit less every day. Mr. Weightman was worth 200 Mr. Smiths tied in a bunch. Good-bye. I fear by what you say, "Flossy jun." behaves discreditably, and gets his mistress into scrapes.

'C. BRONTE.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'March 16th, 1844.

'DEAR ELLEN,—I received your kind note last Saturday, and should have answered it immediately, but in the meantime I had a letter from Mary Taylor, and had to reply to her, and to write sundry letters to Brussels to send by opportunity. My sight will not allow me to write several letters per day, so I was obliged to do it gradually.

'I send you two more circulars because you ask for them, not because I hope their distribution will produce any result. I hope that if a time should come when Emily, Anne, or I shall be able to serve you, we shall not forget that you have done your best to serve us.

'Mr. Smith is gone hence. He is in Ireland at present, and will stay there six weeks. He has left neither a bad nor a good character behind him. Nobody regrets him, because nobody could attach themselves to one who could attach himself to nobody. I thought once he had a regard for you, but I do not think so now. He has never asked after you since you left, nor even mentioned you in my hearing, except to say once when I purposely alluded to you, that you were "not very locomotive." The meaning of the observation I leave you to divine.

'Yet the man is not without points that will be most useful to himself in getting through life. His good qualities, however, are all of the selfish order, but they will make him respected where better and more generous natures would be despised, or at least neglected.

'Mr. Grant fills his shoes at present decently enough—but one cares naught about these sort of individuals, so drop them.

'Mary Taylor is going to leave our hemisphere. To me it is something as if a great planet fell out of the sky. Yet, unless she marries in New Zealand, she will not stay there long.

'Write to me again soon and I promise to write you a regular long letter next time.

'C. BRONTE.'

The Mr. Grant here described had come to Haworth as master of the small grammar school in which Branwell had received some portion of his education. He is the Mr. Donne, curate of Whinbury, in Shirley. Whinbury is Oxenhope, of which village and district Mr. Grant after a time became incumbent. The district was taken out of Haworth Chapelry, and Mr. Grant collected the funds to build a church, schoolhouse, and parsonage. He died at Oxenhope, many years ago, greatly respected by his parishioners. He seems to have endured good-naturedly much chaff from Mr. Bronte and others, who always called him Mr. Donne. It was the opinion of many of his acquaintances that the satire of Shirley had improved his disposition.

Mr. Smith left Haworth in 1844, to become curate of the parish church of Keighley. He became, at a later date, incumbent of a district church, but, his health failing, he returned to his native country, where he died.

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'October 15th, 1844.

'DEAR NELL,—I send you two additional circulars, and will send you two more, if you desire it, when I write again. I have no news to give you. Mr. Smith leaves in the course of a fortnight. He will spend a few weeks in Ireland previously to settling at Keighley. He continues just the same: often anxious and bad-tempered, sometimes rather tolerable—just supportable. How did your party go off? How are you? Write soon, and at length, for your letters are a great comfort to me. We are all pretty well. Remember me kindly to each member of the household at Brookroyd.—Yours,

'C. B.'

The third curate of Shirley, Mr. Sweeting of Nunnely, was Mr. Richard Bradley, curate of Oakworth, an outlying district of Keighley parish. He is at this present time vicar of Haxby, Yorkshire, but far too aged and infirm to have any memories of those old Haworth days.

Mr. Bronte's one other curate was Mr. De Renzi, who occupied the position for a little more than a year,—during the period, in fact, of Mr. Bronte's quarrel with Mr. Nicholls for aspiring to become his son-in-law. After he left Haworth, Mr. De Renzi became a curate at Bradford. He has been dead for some years. The story of Mr. Nicholls's curacy belongs to another chapter. It is sufficient testimony to his worth, however, that he was able to win Charlotte Bronte in spite of the fact that his predecessors had inspired in her such hearty contempt. 'I think he must be like all the curates I have seen,' she writes of one; 'they seem to me a self-seeking, vain, empty race.'



CHAPTER XII: CHARLOTTE BRONTE'S LOVERS

Charlotte Bronte was not beautiful, but she must have been singularly fascinating. That she was not beautiful there is abundant evidence. When, as a girl of fifteen, she became a pupil at Roe Head, Mary Taylor once told her to her face that she was ugly. Ugly she was not in later years. All her friends emphasise the soft silky hair, and the beautiful grey eyes which in moments of excitement seemed to glisten with remarkable brilliancy. But she had a sallow complexion, and a large nose slightly on one side. She was small in stature, and, in fact, the casual observer would have thought her a quaint, unobtrusive little body. Mr. Grundy's memory was very defective when he wrote about the Brontes; but, with the exception of the reference to red hair—and all the girls had brown hair—it would seem that he was not very wide of the mark when he wrote of 'the daughters—distant and distrait, large of nose, small of figure, red of hair, prominent of spectacles, showing great intellectual development, but with eyes constantly cast down, very silent, painfully retiring.'

Charlotte was indeed painfully shy. Miss Wheelwright, who saw much of her during her visits to London in the years of her literary success, says that she would never enter a room without sheltering herself under the wing of some taller friend. A resident of Haworth, still alive, remembers the girls passing him frequently on the way down to the shops, and their hands would involuntarily be lifted to the face on the side nearest to him, with a view to avoid observation. This was not affectation; it was absolute timidity. Miss Wheelwright always thought George Richmond's portrait—for which Charlotte sat during a stay at Dr. Wheelwright's in Phillimore Place—entirely flattering. Many of Charlotte's friends were pleased that it should be so, but there can be no doubt that the magnificent expanse of forehead was an exaggeration. Charlotte's forehead was high, but very narrow.

All this is comparatively unimportant. Charlotte certainly was under no illusion; and we who revere her to-day as one of the greatest of Englishwomen need have no illusions. It is sufficient that, if not beautiful, Charlotte possessed a singular charm of manner, and, when interested, an exhilarating flow of conversation which carried intelligent men off their feet. She had at least four offers of marriage. The three lovers she refused have long since gone to their graves, and there can be no harm now in referring to the actual facts as they present themselves in Charlotte's letters. Two of these offers of marriage were made in one year, when she was twenty-three years of age. Her first proposal came from the brother of her friend Ellen Nussey. Henry Nussey was a curate at Donnington when he asked Charlotte Bronte to be his wife. Two letters on the subject, one of which is partly printed in a mangled form in Mrs. Gaskell's Memoir, speak for themselves.

TO REV. HENRY NUSSEY

'HAWORTH, March 5th, 1839.

'MY DEAR SIR,—Before answering your letter I might have spent a long time in consideration of its subject; but as from the first moment of its reception and perusal I determined on what course to pursue, it seemed to me that delay was wholly unnecessary. You are aware that I have many reasons to feel grateful to your family, that I have peculiar reasons for affection towards one at least of your sisters, and also that I highly esteem yourself—do not therefore accuse me of wrong motives when I say that my answer to your proposal must be a decided negative. In forming this decision, I trust I have listened to the dictates of conscience more than to those of inclination. I have no personal repugnance to the idea of a union with you, but I feel convinced that mine is not the sort of disposition calculated to form the happiness of a man like you. It has always been my habit to study the characters of those amongst whom I chance to be thrown, and I think I know yours and can imagine what description of woman would suit you for a wife. The character should not be too marked, ardent, and original, her temper should be mild, her piety undoubted, her spirits even and cheerful, and her personal attractions sufficient to please your eyes and gratify your just pride. As for me, you do not know me; I am not the serious, grave, cool-headed individual you suppose; you would think me romantic and eccentric; you would say I was satirical and severe. However, I scorn deceit, and I will never, for the sake of attaining the distinction of matrimony and escaping the stigma of an old maid, take a worthy man whom I am conscious I cannot render happy. Before I conclude, let me thank you warmly for your other proposal regarding the school near Donnington. It is kind in you to take so much interest about me; but the fact is, I could not at present enter upon such a project because I have not the capital necessary to insure success. It is a pleasure to me to hear that you are so comfortably settled and that your health is so much improved. I trust God will continue His kindness towards you. Let me say also that I admire the good-sense and absence of flattery and cant which your letter displayed. Farewell. I shall always be glad to hear from you as a friend.—Believe me, yours truly,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'HAWORTH, March 12th, 1839.

'MY DEAREST ELLEN,—When your letter was put into my hands, I said, "She is coming at last, I hope," but when I opened it and found what the contents were, I was vexed to the heart. You need not ask me to go to Brookroyd any more. Once for all, and at the hazard of being called the most stupid little wretch that ever existed, I won't go till you have been to Haworth. I don't blame you, I believe you would come if you might; perhaps I ought not to blame others, but I am grieved.

'Anne goes to Blake Hall on the 8th of April, unless some further unseen cause of delay should occur. I've heard nothing more from Mrs. Thos. Brook as yet. Papa wishes me to remain at home a little longer, but I begin to be anxious to set to work again; and yet it will be hard work after the indulgence of so many weeks, to return to that dreary "gin-horse" round.

'You ask me, my dear Ellen, whether I have received a letter from Henry. I have, about a week since. The contents, I confess, did a little surprise me, but I kept them to myself, and unless you had questioned me on the subject, I would never have adverted to it. Henry says he is comfortably settled at Donnington, that his health is much improved, and that it is his intention to take pupils after Easter. He then intimates that in due time he should want a wife to take care of his pupils, and frankly asks me to be that wife. Altogether the letter is written without cant or flattery, and in a common-sense style, which does credit to his judgment.

'Now, my dear Ellen, there were in this proposal some things which might have proved a strong temptation. I thought if I were to marry Henry Nussey, his sister could live with me, and how happy I should be. But again I asked myself two questions: Do I love him as much as a woman ought to love the man she marries? Am I the person best qualified to make him happy? Alas! Ellen, my conscience answered no to both these questions. I felt that though I esteemed, though I had a kindly leaning towards him, because he is an amiable and well-disposed man, yet I had not, and could not have, that intense attachment which would make me willing to die for him; and, if ever I marry, it must be in that light of adoration that I will regard my husband. Ten to one I shall never have the chance again; but n'importe. Moreover, I was aware that Henry knew so little of me he could hardly be conscious to whom he was writing. Why, it would startle him to see me in my natural home character; he would think I was a wild, romantic enthusiast indeed. I could not sit all day long making a grave face before my husband. I would laugh, and satirise, and say whatever came into my head first. And if he were a clever man, and loved me, the whole world weighed in the balance against his smallest wish should be light as air. Could I, knowing my mind to be such as that, conscientiously say that I would take a grave, quiet, young man like Henry? No, it would have been deceiving him, and deception of that sort is beneath me. So I wrote a long letter back, in which I expressed my refusal as gently as I could, and also candidly avowed my reasons for that refusal. I described to him, too, the sort of character that would suit him for a wife.—Good-bye, my dear Ellen.

'C. BRONTE.'

Mr. Nussey was a very good man, with a capacity for making himself generally esteemed, becoming in turn vicar of Earnley, near Chichester, and afterwards of Hathersage, in Derbyshire. It was honourable to his judgment that he had aspired to marry Charlotte Bronte, who, as we know, had neither money nor much personal attraction, and at the time no possible prospect of literary fame. Her common-sense letter in reply to his proposal had the desired effect. He speedily took the proffered advice, and six months later we find her sending him a letter of congratulation upon his engagement to be married.

TO REV. HENRY NUSSEY

'HAWORTH, October 28th, 1839.

'DEAR SIR,—I have delayed answering your last communication in the hopes of receiving a letter from Ellen, that I might be able to transmit to you the latest news from Brookroyd; however, as she does not write, I think I ought to put off my reply no longer lest you should begin to think me negligent. As you rightly conjecture, I had heard a little hint of what you allude to before, and the account gave me pleasure, coupled as it was with the assurance that the object of your regard is a worthy and estimable woman. The step no doubt will by many of your friends be considered scarcely as a prudent one, since fortune is not amongst the number of the young lady's advantages. For my own part, I must confess that I esteem you the more for not hunting after wealth if there be strength of mind, firmness of principle, and sweetness of temper to compensate for the absence of that usually all-powerful attraction. The wife who brings riches to her husband sometimes also brings an idea of her own importance and a tenacity about what she conceives to be her rights, little calculated to produce happiness in the married state. Most probably she will wish to control when nature and affection bind her to submit—in this case there cannot, I should think, be much comfort.

'On the other hand, it must be considered that when two persons marry without money, there ought to be moral courage and physical exertion to atone for the deficiency—there should be spirit to scorn dependence, patience to endure privation, and energy to labour for a livelihood. If there be these qualities, I think, with the blessing of God, those who join heart and hand have a right to expect success and a moderate share of happiness, even though they may have departed a step or two from the stern maxims of worldly prudence. The bread earned by honourable toil is sweeter than the bread of idleness; and mutual love and domestic calm are treasures far preferable to the possessions rust can corrupt and moths consume away.

'I enjoyed my late excursion with Ellen with the greater zest because such pleasures have not often chanced to fall in my way. I will not tell you what I thought of the sea, because I should fall into my besetting sin of enthusiasm. I may, however, say that its glories, changes, its ebbs and flow, the sound of its restless waves, formed a subject for contemplation that never wearied either the eye, the ear, or the mind. Our visit at Easton was extremely pleasant; I shall always feel grateful to Mr. and Mrs. Hudson for their kindness. We saw Agnes Burton, during our stay, and called on two of your former parishioners—Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Dalton. I was pleased to hear your name mentioned by them in terms of encomium and sincere regard. Ellen will have detailed to you all the minutia of our excursion; a recapitulation from me would therefore be tedious. I am happy to say that her health appeared to be greatly improved by the change of air and regular exercise. I am still at home, as I have not yet heard of any situation which meets with the approbation of my friends. I begin, however, to grow exceedingly impatient of a prolonged period of inaction. I feel I ought to be doing something for myself, for my health is now so perfectly re-established by this long rest that it affords me no further pretext for indolence. With every wish for your future welfare, and with the hope that whenever your proposed union takes place it may contribute in the highest sense to your good and happiness,—Believe me, your sincere friend,

'C. BRONTE.

'P.S.—Remember me to your sister Mercy, who, I understand, is for the present your companion and housekeeper.'

The correspondence did not end here. Indeed, Charlotte was so excellent a letter-writer, that it must have been hard indeed for any one who had had any experience of her in that capacity to readily forgo its continuance.

TO REV. HENRY NUSSEY

'HAWORTH, May 26th, 1840.

'DEAR SIR,—In looking over my papers this morning I found a letter from you of the date of last February with the mark upon it unanswered. Your sister Ellen often accuses me of want of punctuality in answering letters, and I think her accusation is here justified. However, I give you credit for as much considerateness as will induce you to excuse a greater fault than this, especially as I shall hasten directly to repair it.

'The fact is, when the letter came Ellen was staying with me, and I was so fully occupied in talking to her that I had no time to think of writing to others. This is no great compliment, but it is no insult either. You know Ellen's worth, you know how seldom I see her, you partly know my regard for her; and from these premises you may easily draw the inference that her company, when once obtained, is too valuable to be wasted for a moment. One woman can appreciate the value of another better than a man can do. Men very often only see the outside gloss which dazzles in prosperity, women have opportunities for closer observation, and they learn to value those qualities which are useful in adversity.

'There is much, too, in that mild even temper and that placid equanimity which keep the domestic hearth always bright and peaceful—this is better than the ardent nature that changes twenty times in a day. I have studied Ellen and I think she would make a good wife—that is, if she had a good husband. If she married a fool or a tyrant there is spirit enough in her composition to withstand the dictates of either insolence or weakness, though even then I doubt not her sense would teach her to make the best of a bad bargain.

'You will see my letters are all didactic. They contain no news, because I know of none which I think it would interest you to hear repeated. I am still at home, in very good health and spirits, and uneasy only because I cannot yet hear of a situation.

'I shall always be glad to have a letter from you, and I promise when you write again to be less dilatory in answering. I trust your prospects of happiness still continue fair; and from what you say of your future partner I doubt not she will be one who will help you to get cheerfully through the difficulties of this world and to obtain a permanent rest in the next; at least I hope such may be the case. You do right to conduct the matter with due deliberation, for on the step you are about to take depends the happiness of your whole lifetime.

'You must not again ask me to write in a regular literary way to you on some particular topic. I cannot do it at all. Do you think I am a blue-stocking? I feel half inclined to laugh at you for the idea, but perhaps you would be angry. What was the topic to be? Chemistry? or astronomy? or mechanics? or conchology? or entomology? or what other ology? I know nothing at all about any of these. I am not scientific; I am not a linguist. You think me far more learned than I am. If I told you all my ignorance, I am afraid you would be shocked; however, as I wish still to retain a little corner in your good opinion, I will hold my tongue.—Believe me, yours respectfully,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO REV. HENRY NUSSEY

'January 11th, 1841.

'DEAR SIR,—It is time I should reply to your last, as I shall fail in fulfilling my promise of not being so dilatory as on a former occasion.

'I shall be glad to receive the poetry which you offer to send me. You ask me to return the gift in kind. How do you know that I have it in my power to comply with that request? Once indeed I was very poetical, when I was sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen years old, but I am now twenty-four, approaching twenty-five, and the intermediate years are those which begin to rob life of some of its superfluous colouring. At this age it is time that the imagination should be pruned and trimmed, that the judgment should be cultivated, and a few, at least, of the countless illusions of early youth should be cleared away. I have not written poetry for a long while.

'You will excuse the dulness, morality, and monotony of this epistle, and—Believe me, with all good wishes for your welfare here and hereafter, your sincere friend,

'C. BRONTE.'

This letter closes the correspondence; but, as we have seen, Charlotte spent three pleasant weeks in Mr. Nussey's home with his sister Ellen when that gentleman became vicar of Hathersage, in Derbyshire. She thus congratulates her friend when Mr. Nussey is appointed to the latter living.

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'July 29th, 1844.

'DEAR NELL,—I am very glad to hear of Henry's good fortune. It proves to me what an excellent thing perseverance is for getting on in the world. Calm self-confidence (not impudence, for that is vulgar and repulsive) is an admirable quality; but how are those not naturally gifted with it to attain it? We all here get on much as usual. Papa wishes he could hear of a curate, that Mr. Smith may be at liberty to go. Good-bye, dear Ellen. I wish to you and yours happiness, health, and prosperity.

'Write again before you go to Burlington. My best love to Mary.

'C. BRONTE.'

Meanwhile, as I have said, a second lover appeared on the field in this same year, 1839, and the quickness of his wooing is a remarkable testimony to the peculiar fascination which Miss Bronte must have exercised.

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'August 4th, 1839.

'MY DEAREST ELLEN,—I have an odd circumstance to relate to you—prepare for a hearty laugh! The other day Mr. Hodgson, papa's former curate, now a vicar, came over to spend the day with us, bringing with him his own curate. The latter gentleman, by name Mr. Price, is a young Irish clergyman, fresh from Dublin University. It was the first time we had any of us seen him, but, however, after the manner of his countrymen, he soon made himself at home. His character quickly appeared in his conversation: witty, lively, ardent, clever too, but deficient in the dignity and discretion of an Englishman. At home, you know, Ellen, I talk with ease, and am never shy, never weighed down and oppressed by that miserable mauvaise honte which torments and constrains me elsewhere. So I conversed with this Irishman and laughed at his jests, and though I saw faults in his character, excused them because of the amusement his originality afforded. I cooled a little, indeed, and drew in towards the latter part of the evening, because he began to season his conversation with something of Hibernian flattery, which I did not quite relish. However, they went away, and no more was thought about them. A few days after I got a letter, the direction of which puzzled me, it being in a hand I was not accustomed to see. Evidently, it was neither from you nor Mary Taylor, my only correspondents. Having opened and read it, it proved to be a declaration of attachment and proposal of matrimony, expressed in the ardent language of the sapient young Irishman! Well! thought I, I have heard of love at first sight, but this beats all. I leave you to guess what my answer would be, convinced that you will not do me the injustice of guessing wrong. When we meet I'll show you the letter. I hope you are laughing heartily. This is not like one of my adventures, is it? It more nearly resembles Martha Taylor's. I am certainly doomed to be an old maid. Never mind, I made up my mind to that fate ever since I was twelve years old. Write soon.

'C. BRONTE.'

It was not many months after this that we hear the last of poor Mr. Price.

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'January 24th, 1840.

'MY DEAR ELLEN,—Mr. Price is dead. He had fallen into a state of delicate health for some time, and the rupture of a blood-vessel carried him off. He was a strong, athletic-looking man when I saw him, and that is scarcely six months ago. Though I knew so little of him, and of course could not be deeply or permanently interested in what concerned him, I confess, when I suddenly heard he was dead, I felt both shocked and saddened: it was no shame to feel so, was it? I scold you, Ellen, for writing illegibly and badly, but I think you may repay the compliment with cent per cent interest. I am not in the humour for writing a long letter, so good-bye. God bless you.

'C. B.'

There are many thoughts on marriage scattered through Charlotte's correspondence. It was a subject upon which she never wearied of asking questions, and of finding her own answers. 'I believe it is better to marry to love than to marry for love,' she says on one occasion. And in reference to the somewhat uncertain attitude of the admirer of one of her friends, she thus expresses herself to Miss Nussey:

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'November 20th, 1840.

'MY DEAREST NELL,—That last letter of thine treated of matters so high and important I cannot delay answering it for a day. Now I am about to write thee a discourse, and a piece of advice which thou must take as if it came from thy grandmother. But in the first place, before I begin with thee, I have a word to whisper in the ear of Mr. Vincent, and I wish it could reach him. In the name of St. Chrysostom, St. Simon, and St. Jude, why does not that amiable young gentleman come forward like a man and say all that he has to say personally, instead of trifling with kinsmen and kinswomen. "Mr. Vincent," I say, "go personally, and say: 'Miss —-, I want to speak to you.' Miss —- will of course civilly answer: 'I am at your service, Mr. Vincent.' And then, when the room is cleared of all but yourself and herself, just take a chair nearer. Insist upon her laying down that silly . . . work, and listening to you. Then begin, in a clear, distinct, deferential, but determined voice: 'Miss —-, I have a question to put to you—a very important question: "Will you take me as your husband, for better, for worse. I am not a rich man, but I have sufficient to support us. I am not a great man, but I love you honestly and truly. Miss —-, if you knew the world better you would see that this is an offer not to be despised—a kind attached heart and a moderate competency." Do this, Mr. Vincent, and you may succeed. Go on writing sentimental and love-sick letters to —-, and I would not give sixpence for your suit." So much for Mr. Vincent. Now Miss —-'s turn comes to swallow the black bolus, called a friend's advice. Say to her: "Is the man a fool? is he a knave? a humbug, a hypocrite, a ninny, a noodle? If he is any or all of these, of course there is no sense in trifling with him. Cut him short at once—blast his hopes with lightning rapidity and keenness. Is he something better than this? has he at least common sense, a good disposition, a manageable temper? Then consider the matter." Say further: "You feel a disgust towards him now—an utter repugnance. Very likely, but be so good as to remember you don't know him; you have only had three or four days' acquaintance with him. Longer and closer intimacy might reconcile you to a wonderful extent. And now I'll tell you a word of truth, at which you may be offended or not as you like." Say to her: "From what I know of your character, and I think I know it pretty well, I should say you will never love before marriage. After that ceremony is over, and after you have had some months to settle down, and to get accustomed to the creature you have taken for your worse half, you will probably make a most affectionate and happy wife; even if the individual should not prove all you could wish, you will be indulgent towards his little follies and foibles, and will not feel much annoyance at them. This will especially be the case if he should have sense sufficient to allow you to guide him in important matters." Say also: "I hope you will not have the romantic folly to wait for what the French call 'une grande passion.' My good girl, 'une grande passion' is 'une grande folie.' Mediocrity in all things is wisdom; mediocrity in the sensations is superlative wisdom." Say to her: "When you are as old as I am (I am sixty at least, being your grandmother), you will find that the majority of those worldly precepts, whose seeming coldness shocks and repels us in youth, are founded in wisdom."

'No girl should fall in love till the offer is actually made. This maxim is just. I will even extend and confirm it: No young lady should fall in love till the offer has been made, accepted, the marriage ceremony performed, and the first half-year of wedded life has passed away. A woman may then begin to love, but with great precaution, very coolly, very moderately, very rationally. If she ever loves so much that a harsh word or a cold look cuts her to the heart she is a fool. If she ever loves so much that her husband's will is her law, and that she has got into a habit of watching his looks in order that she may anticipate his wishes, she will soon be a neglected fool.

'I have two studies: you are my study for the success, the credit, and the respectability of a quiet, tranquil character; Mary is my study for the contempt, the remorse, the misconstruction which follow the development of feelings in themselves noble, warm, generous, devoted, and profound, but which, being too freely revealed, too frankly bestowed, are not estimated at their real value. I never hope to see in this world a character more truly noble. She would die willingly for one she loved. Her intellect and her attainments are of the very highest standard. Yet I doubt whether Mary will ever marry. Mr. Weightman expresses himself very strongly on young ladies saying "No," when they mean "Yes." He assures me he means nothing personal. I hope not. Assuredly I quite agree with him in his disapprobation of such a senseless course. It is folly indeed for the tongue to stammer a negative when the heart is proclaiming an affirmative. Or rather, it is an act of heroic self-denial, of which I for one confess myself wholly incapable. I would not tell such a lie to gain a thousand pounds. Write to me again soon. What made you say I admired Hippocrates? It is a confounded "fib." I tried to find something admirable in him, and failed.'

'He is perhaps only like the majority of men' (she says of an acquaintance). 'Certainly those men who lead a gay life in their youth, and arrive at middle-age with feelings blunted and passions exhausted, can have but one aim in marriage—the selfish advancement of their interest. Hard to think that such men take as wives—as second-selves—women young, modest, sincere, pure in heart and life, with feelings all fresh and emotions all unworn, and bind such virtue and vitality to their own withered existence, such sincerity to their own hollowness, such disinterestedness to their own haggard avarice—to think this, troubles the soul to its inmost depths. Nature and justice forbid the banns of such wedlock.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'August 9th, 1846.

'DEAR NELL,—Anne and I both thank you for your kind invitation. And our thanks are not mere words of course—they are very sincere, both as addressed to yourself and your mother and sisters. But we cannot accept it; and I think even you will consider our motives for declining valid this time.

'In a fortnight I hope to go with papa to Manchester to have his eyes couched. Emily and I made a pilgrimage there a week ago to search out an operator, and we found one in the person of Mr. Wilson. He could not tell from the description whether the eyes were ready for an operation. Papa must therefore necessarily take a journey to Manchester to consult him. If he judges the cataract ripe, we shall remain; if, on the contrary, he thinks it not yet sufficiently hardened, we shall have to return—and Papa must remain in darkness a while longer.

'There is a defect in your reasoning about the feelings a wife ought to experience. Who holds the purse will wish to be master, Ellen, depend on it, whether man or woman. Who provided the cash will now and then value himself, or herself, upon it, and, even in the case of ordinary minds, reproach the less wealthy partner. Besides, no husband ought to be an object of charity to his wife, as no wife to her husband. No, dear Ellen; it is doubtless pleasant to marry well, as they say, but with all pleasures are mixed bitters. I do not wish for my friend a very rich husband. I should not like her to be regarded by any man ever as "a sweet object of charity." Give my sincere love to all.—Yours,

'C. BRONTE.'

Many years were to elapse before Charlotte Bronte received her third offer of marriage. These were the years of Brussels life, and the year during which she lost her sisters. It came in the period of her early literary fame, and indeed was the outcome of it. Mr. James Taylor was in the employment of Smith & Elder. He was associated with the literary department, and next in command to Mr. W. S. Williams as adviser to the firm. Mr. Williams appears to have written to Miss Bronte suggesting that Mr. Taylor should come to Haworth in person for the manuscript of her new novel, Shirley, and here is Charlotte's reply.

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'August 24th, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I think the best title for the book would be Shirley, without any explanation or addition—the simpler and briefer, the better.

'If Mr. Taylor calls here on his return to town he might take charge of the Ms.; I would rather intrust it to him than send it by the ordinary conveyance. Did I see Mr. Taylor when I was in London? I cannot remember him.

'I would with pleasure offer him the homely hospitalities of the Parsonage for a few days, if I could at the same time offer him the company of a brother, or if my father were young enough and strong enough to walk with him on the moors and show him the neighbourhood, or if the peculiar retirement of papa's habits were not such as to render it irksome to him to give much of his society to a stranger, even in the house. Without being in the least misanthropical or sour-natured, papa habitually prefers solitude to society, and custom is a tyrant whose fetters it would now be impossible for him to break. Were it not for difficulties of this sort, I believe I should ere this have asked you to come down to Yorkshire. Papa, I know, would receive any friend of Mr. Smith's with perfect kindness and goodwill, but I likewise know that, unless greatly put out of his way, he could not give a guest much of his company, and that, consequently, his entertainment would be but dull.

'You will see the force of these considerations, and understand why I only ask Mr. Taylor to come for a day instead of requesting the pleasure of his company for a longer period; you will believe me also, and so will he, when I say I shall be most happy to see him. He will find Haworth a strange uncivilised little place, such as, I daresay, he never saw before. It is twenty miles distant from Leeds; he will have to come by rail to Keighley (there are trains every two hours I believe). He must remember that at a station called Shipley the carriages are changed, otherwise they will take him on to Skipton or Colne, or I know not where. When he reaches Keighley, he will yet have four miles to travel; a conveyance may be hired at the Devonshire Arms—there is no coach or other regular communication.

'I should like to hear from him before he comes, and to know on what day to expect him, that I may have the MS. ready; if it is not quite finished I might send the concluding chapter or two by post.

'I advise you to send this letter to Mr. Taylor—it will save you the trouble of much explanation, and will serve to apprise him of what lies before him; he can then weigh well with himself whether it would suit him to take so much trouble for so slight an end.—Believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO JAMES TAYLOR, CORNHILL.

'September 3rd, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—It will be quite convenient to my father and myself to secure your visit on Saturday the 8th inst.

'The MS. is now complete, and ready for you.

'Trusting that you have enjoyed your holiday and derived from your excursion both pleasure and profit,—I am, dear sir, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

Mr. Taylor was small and red-haired. There are two portraits of him before me. They indicate a determined, capable man, thick-set, well bearded: on the whole a vigorous and interesting personality. In any case, Mr. Taylor lost his heart to Charlotte, and was much more persistent than earlier lovers. He had also the advantage of Mr. Bronte's goodwill. This is all there is to add to the letters themselves.

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'September 14th, 1850.

'DEAR ELLEN,—I found after sealing my last note to you that I had forgotten after all to inclose Amelia's letter; however, it appears it does not signify. While I think of it I must refer to an act of petty larceny committed by me when I was last at Brookroyd. Do you remember lending me a parasol, which I should have left with you when we parted at Leeds? I unconsciously carried it away in my hand. You shall have it when you next come to Haworth.

'I wish, dear Ellen, you would tell me what is the "twaddle about my marrying, etc.," which you hear. If I knew the details I should have a better chance of guessing the quarter from which such gossip comes—as it is, I am quite at a loss. Whom am I to marry? I think I have scarcely seen a single man with whom such a union would be possible since I left London. Doubtless there are men whom, if I chose to encourage, I might marry; but no matrimonial lot is even remotely offered me which seems to me truly desirable. And even if that were the case, there would be many obstacles. The least allusion to such a thing is most offensive to papa.

'An article entitled Currer Bell has lately appeared in the Palladium, a new periodical published in Edinburgh. It is an eloquent production, and one of such warm sympathy and high appreciation as I had never expected to see. It makes mistakes about authorships, etc., but these I hope one day to set right. Mr. Taylor (the little man) first informed me of this article. I was somewhat surprised to receive his letter, having concluded nine months ago that there would be no more correspondence from that quarter. I inclose you a note from him received subsequently, in answer to my acknowledgment. Read it and tell me exactly how it impresses you regarding the writer's character, etc. His little newspaper disappeared for some weeks, and I thought it was gone to the tomb of the Capulets; however, it has reappeared, with an explanation that he had feared its regular transmission might rather annoy than gratify. I told him this was a mistake—that I was well enough pleased to receive it, but hoped he would not make a task of sending it. For the rest, I cannot consider myself placed under any personal obligation by accepting this newspaper, for it belongs to the establishment of Smith & Elder. This little Taylor is deficient neither in spirit nor sense.

'The report about my having published again is, of course, an arrant lie.

'Give my kind regards to all, and—Believe me, yours faithfully,

'C. B.'

Her friend's reference to Jupiter is to another suggested lover, and the kindly allusion to the 'little man' may be taken to imply that had he persevered, or not gone off to India, whither he was sent to open a branch establishment in Bombay for Smith & Elder, Mr. Taylor might possibly have been successful in the long run.

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'January 30th, 1851.

'DEAR NELL,—I am very sorry to hear that Amelia is again far from well; but I think both she and I should try and not be too anxious. Even if matters do not prosper this time, all may go as well some future day. I think it is not these early mishaps that break the constitution, but those which occur in a much later stage. She must take heart—there may yet be a round dozen of little Joe Taylors to look after—run after—to sort and switch and train up in the way they should go—that is, with a generous use of pickled birch. From whom do you think I have received a couple of notes lately? From Alice. They are returned from the Continent, it seems, and are now at Torquay. The first note touched me a little by what I thought its subdued tone; I trusted her character might be greatly improved. There were, indeed, traces of the "old Adam," but such as I was willing to overlook. I answered her soon and kindly. In reply I received to-day a longish letter, full of clap-trap sentiment and humbugging attempts at fine writing. In each production the old trading spirit peeps out; she asks for autographs. It seems she had read in some paper that I was staying with Miss Martineau; thereupon she applies for specimens of her handwriting, and Wordsworth's, and Southey's, and my own. The account of her health, if given by any one else, would grieve and alarm me. She talks of fearing that her constitution is almost broken by repeated trials, and intimates a doubt as to whether she shall live long: but, remembering her of old, I have good hopes that this may be a mistake. Her "beloved papa and mama" and her "precious sister," she says, are living, and "gradely." (That last is my word. I don't know whether they use it in Birstall as they do here—it means in a middling way.)

'You are to say no more about "Jupiter" and "Venus"—what do you mean by such heathen trash? The fact is, no fallacy can be wilder, and I won't have it hinted at even in jest, because my common sense laughs it to scorn. The idea of the "little man" shocks me less—it would be a more likely match if "matches" were at all in question, which they are not. He still sends his little newspaper; and the other day there came a letter of a bulk, volume, pith, judgment, and knowledge, worthy to have been the product of a giant. You may laugh as much and as wickedly as you please; but the fact is, there is a quiet constancy about this, my diminutive and red-haired friend, which adds a foot to his stature, turns his sandy locks dark, and altogether dignifies him a good deal in my estimation. However, I am not bothered by much vehement ardour—there is the nicest distance and respect preserved now, which makes matters very comfortable.

'This is all nonsense, Nell, and so you will understand it.—Yours very faithfully,

'C. B.

'The name of Miss Martineau's coadjutor is Atkinson. She often writes to me with exceeding cordiality.'

TO JAMES TAYLOR, CORNHILL

'March 22nd, 1851.

'MY DEAR SIR,—Yesterday I despatched a box of books to Cornhill, including the number of the North British Review which you kindly lent me. The article to which you particularly directed my attention was read with pleasure and interest, and if I do not now discuss it more at length, it is because I am well aware how completely your attention must be at present engrossed, since, if I rightly understood a brief paragraph in Mr. Smith's last note, you are now on the eve of quitting England for India.

'I will limit myself, then, to the expression of a sincere wish for your welfare and prosperity in this undertaking, and to the hope that the great change of climate will bring with it no corresponding risk to health. I should think you will be missed in Cornhill, but doubtless "business" is a Moloch which demands such sacrifices.

'I do not know when you go, nor whether your absence is likely to be permanent or only for a time; whichever it be, accept my best wishes for your happiness, and my farewell, if I should not again have the opportunity of addressing you.—Believe me, sincerely yours,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO JAMES TAYLOR, CORNHILL

'March 24th, 1851.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I had written briefly to you before I received yours, but I fear the note would not reach you in time. I will now only say that both my father and myself will have pleasure in seeing you on your return from Scotland—a pleasure tinged with sadness certainly, as all partings are, but still a pleasure.

'I do most entirely agree with you in what you say about Miss Martineau's and Mr. Atkinson's book. I deeply regret its publication for the lady's sake; it gives a death-blow to her future usefulness. Who can trust the word, or rely on the judgment, of an avowed atheist?

'May your decision in the crisis through which you have gone result in the best effect on your happiness and welfare; and indeed, guided as you are by the wish to do right and a high sense of duty, I trust it cannot be otherwise. The change of climate is all I fear; but Providence will over-rule this too for the best—in Him you can believe and on Him rely. You will want, therefore, neither solace nor support, though your lot be cast as a stranger in a strange land.—I am, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.

'When you shall have definitely fixed the time of your return southward, write me a line to say on what day I may expect you at Haworth.

'C. B.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'April 5th, 1851.

'DEAR ELLEN,—Mr. Taylor has been and is gone; things are just as they were. I only know in addition to the slight information I possessed before, that this Indian undertaking is necessary to the continued prosperity of the firm of Smith, Elder, & Co., and that he, Taylor, alone was pronounced to possess the power and means to carry it out successfully—that mercantile honour, combined with his own sense of duty, obliged him to accept the post of honour and of danger to which he has been appointed, that he goes with great personal reluctance, and that he contemplates an absence of five years.

'He looked much thinner and older. I saw him very near, and once through my glass; the resemblance to Branwell struck me forcibly—it is marked. He is not ugly, but very peculiar; the lines in his face show an inflexibility, and, I must add, a hardness of character which do not attract. As he stood near me, as he looked at me in his keen way, it was all I could do to stand my ground tranquilly and steadily, and not to recoil as before. It is no use saying anything if I am not candid. I avow then, that on this occasion, predisposed as I was to regard him very favourably, his manners and his personal presence scarcely pleased me more than at the first interview. He gave me a book at parting, requesting in his brief way that I would keep it for his sake, and adding hastily, "I shall hope to hear from you in India—your letters have been and will be a greater refreshment than you can think or I can tell."

'And so he is gone; and stern and abrupt little man as he is—too often jarring as are his manners—his absence and the exclusion of his idea from my mind leave me certainly with less support and in deeper solitude than before.

'You see, dear Nell, though we are still precisely on the same level—you are not isolated. I feel that there is a certain mystery about this transaction yet, and whether it will ever be cleared up to me I do not know; however, my plain duty is to wean my mind from the subject, and if possible to avoid pondering over it. In his conversation he seemed studiously to avoid reference to Mr. Smith individually, speaking always of the "house"—the "firm." He seemed throughout quite as excited and nervous as when I first saw him. I feel that in his way he has a regard for me—a regard which I cannot bring myself entirely to reciprocate in kind, and yet its withdrawal leaves a painful blank.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'April 9th, 1851.

'DEAR NELL,—Thank you for your kind note; it was just like you to write it though it was your school-day. I never knew you to let a slight impediment stand in the way of a friendly action.

'Certainly I shall not soon forget last Friday, and never, I think, the evening and night succeeding that morning and afternoon. Evils seldom come singly. And soon after Mr. Taylor was gone, papa, who had been better, grew much worse. He went to bed early, and was very sick and ill for an hour; and when at last he began to doze, and I left him, I came down to the dining-room with a sense of weight, fear, and desolation hard to express and harder to endure. A wish that you were with me did cross my mind, but I repulsed it as a most selfish wish; indeed, it was only short-lived: my natural tendency in moments of this sort is to get through the struggle alone—to think that one is burdening and racking others makes all worse.

'You speak to me in soft consolating accents, but I hold far sterner language to myself, dear Nell.

'An absence of five years—a dividing expanse of three oceans—the wide difference between a man's active career and a woman's passive existence—these things are almost equivalent to an eternal separation. But there is another thing which forms a barrier more difficult to pass than any of these. Would Mr. Taylor and I ever suit? Could I ever feel for him enough love to accept him as a husband? Friendship—gratitude—esteem I have, but each moment he came near me, and that I could see his eyes fastened on me, my veins ran ice. Now that he is away I feel far more gently towards him; it is only close by that I grow rigid—stiffening with a strange mixture of apprehension and anger, which nothing softens but his retreat and a perfect subduing of his manner. I did not want to be proud, nor intend to be proud, but I was forced to be so.

'Most true is it that we are over-ruled by one above us—that in his hands our very will is as clay in the hands of the potter.

'Papa continues very far from well, though yesterday, and I hope this morning, he is a little better. How is your mother? Give my love to her and your sister. How are you? Have you suffered from tic since you returned home? Did they think you improved in looks?

'Write again soon.—Yours faithfully,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'April 23rd, 1851.

'MY DEAR ELLEN,—I have heard from Mr. Taylor to-day—a quiet little note. He returned to London a week since on Saturday; he has since kindly chosen and sent me a parcel of books. He leaves England May 20th. His note concludes with asking whether he has any chance of seeing me in London before that time. I must tell him that I have already fixed June for my visit, and therefore, in all human probability, we shall see each other no more.

'There is still a want of plain mutual understanding in this business, and there is sadness and pain in more ways than one. My conscience, I can truly say, does not now accuse me of having treated Mr. Taylor with injustice or unkindness. What I once did wrong in this way, I have endeavoured to remedy both to himself and in speaking of him to others—Mr. Smith to wit, though I more than doubt whether that last opinion will ever reach him. I am sure he has estimable and sterling qualities; but with every disposition and with every wish, with every intention even to look on him in the most favourable point of view at his last visit, it was impossible to me in my inward heart to think of him as one that might one day be acceptable as a husband. It would sound harsh were I to tell even you of the estimate I felt compelled to form respecting him. Dear Nell, I looked for something of the gentleman—something I mean of the natural gentleman; you know I can dispense with acquired polish, and for looks, I know myself too well to think that I have any right to be exacting on that point. I could not find one gleam, I could not see one passing glimpse of true good-breeding. It is hard to say, but it is true. In mind too, though clever, he is second-rate—thoroughly second-rate. One does not like to say these things, but one had better be honest. Were I to marry him my heart would bleed in pain and humiliation; I could not, could not look up to him. No; if Mr. Taylor be the only husband fate offers to me, single I must always remain. But yet, at times I grieve for him, and perhaps it is superfluous, for I cannot think he will suffer much: a hard nature, occupation, and change of scene will befriend him.

'With kind regards to all,—I am, dear Nell, your middle-aged friend,

'C. BRONTE.

'Write soon.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'May 5th, 1851.

'MY DEAR ELLEN,—I have had a long kind letter from Miss Martineau lately. She says she is well and happy. Also, I have had a very long letter from Mr. Williams. He speaks with much respect of Mr. Taylor. I discover with some surprise, papa has taken a decided liking to Mr. Taylor. The marked kindness of his manner when he bid him good-bye, exhorting him to be "true to himself, his country, and his God," and wishing him all good wishes, struck me with some astonishment. Whenever he has alluded to him since, it has been with significant eulogy. When I alluded that he was no gentleman, he seemed out of patience with me for the objection. You say papa has penetration. On this subject I believe he has indeed. I have told him nothing, yet he seems to be au fait to the whole business. I could think at some moments his guesses go farther than mine. I believe he thinks a prospective union, deferred for five years, with such a decorous reliable personage, would be a very proper and advisable affair.

'How has your tic been lately? I had one fiery night when this same dragon "tic" held me for some hours with pestilent violence. It still comes at intervals with abated fury. Owing to this and broken sleep, I am looking singularly charming, one of my true London looks—starved out and worn down. Write soon, dear Nell.—Yours faithfully,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'112 GLOUCESTER PLACE, 'HYDE PARK, June 2nd, 1851.

'DEAR ELLEN,—Mr. Taylor has gone some weeks since. I hear more open complaints now about his temper. Of Mr. Williams' society I have enjoyed one evening's allowance, and liked it and him as usual. On such occasions his good qualities of ease, kindliness, and intelligence are seen, and his little faults and foibles hidden. Mr. Smith is somewhat changed in appearance. He looks a little older, darker, and more careworn; his ordinary manner is graver, but in the evening his spirits flow back to him. Things and circumstances seem here to be as usual, but I fancy there has been some crisis in which his energy and filial affection have sustained them all. This I judge from the fact that his mother and sisters are more peculiarly bound to him than ever, and that his slightest wish is an unquestioned law.—Faithfully yours,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'November 4th, 1851.

'DEAR ELLEN,—Papa, Tabby, and Martha are at present all better, yet none of them well. Martha at present looks feeble. I wish she had a better constitution. As it is, one is always afraid of giving her too much to do; and yet there are many things I cannot undertake myself, and we do not like to change when we have had her so long. How are you getting on in the matter of servants? The other day I received a long letter from Mr. Taylor. I told you I did not expect to hear thence, nor did I. The letter is long, but it is worth your while to read it. In its way it has merit, that cannot be denied; abundance of information, talent of a certain kind, alloyed (I think) here and there with errors of taste. He might have spared many of the details of the bath scene, which, for the rest, tallies exactly with Mr. Thackeray's account of the same process. This little man with all his long letters remains as much a conundrum to me as ever. Your account of the domestic joys at Hunsworth amused me much. The good folks seem very happy—long may they continue so! It somewhat cheers me to know that such happiness does exist on the earth. Return Mr. Taylor's letter when you have read it. With love to your mother,—I am, dear Nell, sincerely yours,

'C. B.'

TO JAMES TAYLOR, BOMBAY

'HAWORTH, November 15th, 1851.

'MY DEAR SIR,—Both your communications reached me safely—the note of the 17th September and the letter of the 2nd October. You do yourself less than justice when you stigmatise the latter as "ill-written." I found it quite legible, nor did I lose a word, though the lines and letters were so close. I should have been sorry if such had not been the case, as it appeared to me throughout highly interesting. It is observable that the very same information which we have previously collected, perhaps with rather languid attention, from printed books, when placed before us in familiar manuscript, and comprising the actual experience of a person with whom we are acquainted, acquires a new and vital interest: when we know the narrator we seem to realise the tale.

'The bath scene amused me much. Your account of that operation tallies in every point with Mr. Thackeray's description in the Journey from Cornhill to Grand Cairo. The usage seems a little rough, and I cannot help thinking that equal benefit might be obtained through less violent means; but I suppose without the previous fatigue the after-sensation would not be so enjoyable, and no doubt it is that indolent after-sensation which the self-indulgent Mahometans chiefly cultivate. I think you did right to disdain it.

'It would seem to me a matter of great regret that the society at Bombay should be so deficient in all intellectual attraction. Perhaps, however, your occupations will so far absorb your thoughts as to prevent them from dwelling painfully on this circumstance. No doubt there will be moments when you will look back to London and Scotland, and the friends you have left there, with some yearning; but I suppose business has its own excitement. The new country, the new scenes too, must have their interest; and as you will not lack books to fill your leisure, you will probably soon become reconciled to a change which, for some minds, would too closely resemble exile.

'I fear the climate—such as you describe it—must be very trying to an European constitution. In your first letter, you mentioned October as the month of danger; it is now over. Whether you have passed its ordeal safely, must yet for some weeks remain unknown to your friends in England—they can but wish that such may be the case. You will not expect me to write a letter that shall form a parallel with your own either in quantity or quality; what I write must be brief, and what I communicate must be commonplace and of trivial interest.

'My father, I am thankful to say, continues in pretty good health. I read portions of your letter to him and he was interested in hearing them. He charged me when I wrote to convey his very kind remembrances.

'I had myself ceased to expect a letter from you. On taking leave at Haworth you said something about writing from India, but I doubted at the time whether it was not one of those forms of speech which politeness dictates; and as time passed, and I did not hear from you, I became confirmed in this view of the subject. With every good wish for your welfare,—I am, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'November 19th, 1851.

'DEAR ELLEN,—All here is much as usual, and I was thinking of writing to you this morning when I received your note. I am glad to hear your mother bears this severe weather tolerably, as papa does also. I had a cold, chiefly in the throat and chest, but I applied cold water, which relieved me, I think, far better than hot applications would have done. The only events in my life consist in that little change occasional letters bring. I have had two from Miss Wooler since she left Haworth which touched me much. She seems to think so much of a little congenial company. She says she has not for many days known such enjoyment as she experienced during the ten days she stayed here. Yet you know what Haworth is—dull enough.

'How could you imagine your last letter offended me? I only disagreed with you on one point. The little man's disdain of the sensual pleasure of a Turkish bath had, I must own, my approval. Before answering his epistle I got up my courage to write to Mr. Williams, through whose hands or those of Mr. Smith I knew the Indian letter had come, and beg him to give me an impartial judgment of Mr. Taylor's character and disposition, owning that I was very much in the dark. I did not like to continue correspondence without further information. I got the answer, which I inclose. You say nothing about the Hunsworth Turtle-doves—how are they? and how is the branch of promise? I hope doing well.—Yours faithfully,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'January 1st, 1852.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I am glad of the opportunity of writing to you, for I have long wished to send you a little note, and was only deterred from doing so by the conviction that the period preceding Christmas must be a very busy one to you.

'I have wished to thank you for your last, which gave me very genuine pleasure. You ascribe to Mr. Taylor an excellent character; such a man's friendship, at any rate, should not be disregarded; and if the principles and disposition be what you say, faults of manner and even of temper ought to weigh light in the balance. I always believed in his judgment and good-sense, but what I doubted was his kindness—he seemed to me a little too harsh, rigid, and unsympathising. Now, judgment, sense, principle are invaluable and quite indispensable points, but one would be thankful for a little feeling, a little indulgence in addition—without these, poor fallible human nature shrinks under the domination of the sterner qualities. I answered Mr. Taylor's letter by the mail of the 19th November, sending it direct, for, on reflection, I did not see why I should trouble you with it.

'Did your son Frank call on Mrs. Gaskell? and how did he like her?

'My health has not been very satisfactory lately, but I think, though I vary almost daily, I am much better than I was a fortnight ago. All the winter the fact of my never being able to stoop over a desk without bringing on pain and oppression in the chest has been a great affliction to me, and the want of tranquil rest at night has tried me much, but I hope for the better times. The doctors say that there is no organic mischief.

'Wishing a happy New Year to you,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'March 7th, 1852.

'DEAR ELLEN,—I hope both your mother's cold and yours are quite well ere this. Papa has got something of his spring attack of bronchitis, but so far it is in a greatly ameliorated form, very different to what it has been for three years past. I do trust it may pass off thus mildly. I continue better.

'Dear Nell, I told you from the beginning that my going to Sussex was a most improbable event; I tell you now that unless want of health should absolutely compel me to give up work and leave home (which I trust and hope will not be the case) I certainly shall not think of going. It is better to be decided, and decided I must be. You can never want me less than when in Sussex surrounded by amusement and friends. I do not know that I shall go to Scarbro', but it might be possible to spare a fortnight to go there (for the sake of a sad duty rather than pleasure), when I could not give a month to a longer excursion. I have not a word of news to tell you. Many mails have come from India since I was at Brookroyd. Expectation would at times be on the alert, but disappointment knocked her down. I have not heard a syllable, and cannot think of making inquiries at Cornhill. Well, long suspense in any matter usually proves somewhat cankering, but God orders all things for us, and to His Will we must submit. Be sure to keep a calm mind; expect nothing.—Yours faithfully,

'C. BRONTE.'

When Mr. Taylor returned to England in 1856 Charlotte Bronte was dead. His after-life was more successful than happy. He did not, it is true, succeed in Bombay with the firm of Smith, Taylor & Co. That would seem to have collapsed. But he made friends in Bombay and returned there in 1863 as editor of the Bombay Gazette and the Bombay Quarterly Review. A little later he became editor of the Bombay Saturday Review, which had not, however, a long career. Mr. Taylor's successes were not journalistic but mercantile. As Secretary of the Bombay Chamber of Commerce, which appointment he obtained in 1865, he obtained much real distinction. To this post he added that of Registrar of the University of Bombay and many other offices. He was elected Sheriff in 1874, in which year he died. An imposing funeral ceremony took place in the Cathedral, and he was buried in the Bombay cemetery, where his tomb may be found to the left of the entrance gates, inscribed—

JAMES TAYLOR. DIED APRIL 29, 1874, AGED 57.

He married during his visit to England, but the marriage was not a happy one. That does not belong to the present story. Here, however, is a cutting from the Times marriage record in 1863:—

'On the 23rd inst., at the Church of St. John the Evangelist, St. Pancras, by the Rev. James Moorhouse, M.A., James Taylor, Esq., of Furnival's-inn, and Bombay, to Annie, widow of Adolph Ritter, of Vienna, and stepdaughter of Thos. Harrison, Esq., of Birchanger Place, Essex.'



CHAPTER XIII: LITERARY AMBITIONS

We have seen how Charlotte Bronte and her sisters wrote from their earliest years those little books which embodied their vague aspirations after literary fame. Now and again the effort is admirable, notably in The Adventures of Ernest Alembert, but on the whole it amounts to as little as did the juvenile productions of Shelley. That poet, it will be remembered, wrote Zastrozzi at nineteen, and much else that was bad, some of which he printed. Charlotte Bronte was mercifully restrained by a well-nigh empty purse from this ill-considered rashness. It was not till the death of their aunt had added to their slender resources that the Bronte girls conceived the idea of actually publishing a book at their own expense. They communicated with the now extinct firm of Aylott & Jones of Paternoster Row, and Charlotte appears to have written many letters to the firm, {325} only two or three of which are printed by Mrs. Gaskell. The correspondence is comparatively insignificant, but as the practical beginning of Charlotte's literary career, the hitherto unpublished letters which have been preserved are perhaps worth reproducing here.

TO AYLOTT & JONES

'January 28th, 1846.

'GENTLEMEN,—May I request to be informed whether you would undertake the publication of a collection of short poems in one volume, 8vo.

'If you object to publishing the work at your own risk, would you undertake it on the author's account?—I am, gentlemen, your obedient humble servant,

'C. BRONTE.

'Address—Rev. P. Bronte, Haworth, Bradford, Yorkshire.'

TO AYLOTT & JONES

'March 3rd, 1846.

'GENTLEMEN,—I send a draft for 31 pounds, 10s., being the amount of your estimate.

'I suppose there is nothing now to prevent your immediately commencing the printing of the work.

'When you acknowledge the receipt of the draft, will you state how soon it will be completed?—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO AYLOTT & JONES

'March 11th, 1846.

'GENTLEMEN,—I have received the proof-sheet, and return it corrected. If there is any doubt at all about the printer's competency to correct errors, I would prefer submitting each sheet to the inspection of the authors, because such a mistake, for instance, as tumbling stars, instead of trembling, would suffice to throw an air of absurdity over a whole poem; but if you know from experience that he is to be relied on, I would trust to your assurance on the subject, and leave the task of correction to him, as I know that a considerable saving both of time and trouble would be thus effected.

'The printing and paper appear to me satisfactory. Of course I wish to have the work out as soon as possible, but I am still more anxious that it should be got up in a manner creditable to the publishers and agreeable to the authors.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO AYLOTT & JONES

'March 13th, 1846.

'GENTLEMEN,—I return you the second proof. The authors have finally decided that they would prefer having all the proofs sent to them in turn, but you need not inclose the Ms., as they can correct the errors from memory.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO AYLOTT & JONES

'March 23rd, 1846.

'GENTLEMEN,—As the proofs have hitherto come safe to hand under the direction of C. Bronte, Esq., I have not thought it necessary to request you to change it, but a little mistake having occurred yesterday, I think it will be better to send them to me in future under my real address, which is Miss Bronte, Rev. P. Bronte, etc.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO AYLOTT & JONES

'April 6th, 1846.

'GENTLEMEN,—C., E., and A. Bell are now preparing for the press a work of fiction, consisting of three distinct and unconnected tales, which may be published either together, as a work of three volumes, of the ordinary novel size, or separately as single volumes, as shall be deemed most advisable.

'It is not their intention to publish these tales on their own account. They direct me to ask you whether you would be disposed to undertake the work, after having, of course, by due inspection of the Ms., ascertained that its contents are such as to warrant an expectation of success.

'An early answer will oblige, as, in case of your negativing the proposal, inquiry must be made of other publishers.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO AYLOTT & JONES

'April 15th, 1846.

'GENTLEMEN,—I have to thank you for your obliging answer to my last. The information you give is of value to us, and when the MS. is completed your suggestions shall be acted on.

'There will be no preface to the poems. The blank leaf may be filled up by a table of contents, which I suppose the printer will prepare. It appears the volume will be a thinner one than was calculated on.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO AYLOTT & JONES

'May 11th, 1846.

'GENTLEMEN,—The books may be done up in the style of Moxon's duodecimo edition of Wordsworth.

'The price may be fixed at 5s., or if you think that too much for the size of the volume, say 4s.

'I think the periodicals I mentioned in my last will be sufficient for advertising in at present, and I should not wish you to lay out a larger sum than 2 pounds, especially as the estimate is increased by nearly 5 pounds, in consequence, it appears, of a mistake. I should think the success of a work depends more on the notice it receives from periodicals, than on the quantity of advertisements.

'If you do not object, the additional amount of the estimate can be remitted when you send in your account at the end of the first six months.

'I should be obliged to you if you could let me know how soon copies can be sent to the editors of the magazines and newspapers specified.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO AYLOTT & JONES

'May 25th, 1846.

'GENTLEMEN,—I received yours of the 22nd this morning. I now transmit 5 pounds, being the additional sum necessary to defray the entire expense of paper and printing. It will leave a small surplus of 11s. 9d., which you can place to my account.

'I am glad you have sent copies to the newspapers you mention, and in case of a notice favourable or otherwise appearing in them, or in any of the other periodicals to which copies have been sent, I should be obliged to you if you would send me down the numbers; otherwise, I have not the opportunity of seeing these publications regularly. I might miss it, and should the poems be remarked upon favourably, it is my intention to appropriate a further sum to advertisements. If, on the other hand, they should pass unnoticed or be condemned, I consider it would be quite useless to advertise, as there is nothing, either in the title of the work or the names of the authors, to attract attention from a single individual.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO AYLOTT & JONES

'July 10th, 1846.

'GENTLEMEN,—I am directed by the Messrs. Bell to acknowledge the receipt of the Critic and the Athenaeum containing notices of the poems.

'They now think that a further sum of 10 pounds may be devoted to advertisements, leaving it to you to select such channels as you deem most advisable.

'They would wish the following extract from the Critic to be appended to each advertisement:—

'"They in whose hearts are chords strung by Nature to sympathise with the beautiful and the true, will recognise in these compositions the presence of more genius than it was supposed this utilitarian age had devoted to the loftier exercises of the intellect."

'They likewise request you to send copies of the poems to Fraser's Magazine, Chambers' Edinburgh Journal, the Globe, and Examiner.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,

'C. BRONTE.'

To an appreciative editor Currer Bell wrote as follows:—

TO THE EDITOR OF THE 'DUBLIN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE.'

'October 6th, 1846.

'SIRS,—I thank you in my own name and that of my brothers, Ellis and Acton, for the indulgent notice that appeared in your last number of our first humble efforts in literature; but I thank you far more for the essay on modern poetry which preceded that notice—an essay in which seems to me to be condensed the very spirit of truth and beauty. If all or half your other readers shall have derived from its perusal the delight it afforded to myself and my brothers, your labours have produced a rich result.

'After such criticism an author may indeed be smitten at first by a sense of his own insignificance—as we were—but on a second and a third perusal he finds a power and beauty therein which stirs him to a desire to do more and better things. It fulfils the right end of criticism: without absolutely crushing, it corrects and rouses. I again thank you heartily, and beg to subscribe myself,—Your constant and grateful reader,

'CURRER BELL.'

The reception which it met with from the public may be gathered from the following letter which accompanied De Quincey's copy. {330}

TO THOMAS DE QUINCEY.

'June 16th, 1847.

'SIRS,—My relatives, Ellis and Acton Bell, and myself, heedless of the repeated warnings of various respectable publishers, have committed the rash act of printing a volume of poems.

'The consequences predicted have, of course, overtaken us: our book is found to be a drug; no man needs it or heeds it. In the space of a year our publisher has disposed but of two copies, and by what painful efforts he succeeded in getting rid of these two, himself only knows.

'Before transferring the edition to the trunkmakers, we have decided on distributing as presents a few copies of what we cannot sell; and we beg to offer you one in acknowledgment of the pleasure and profit we have often and long derived from your works.—I am, sir, yours very respectfully,

'CURRER BELL.'

Charlotte Bronte could not have carried out the project of distribution to any appreciable extent, as a considerable 'remainder' appear to have been bound up with a new title-page by Smith & Elder. With this Smith & Elder title-page, the book is not uncommon, whereas, with the Aylott & Jones title-page it is exceedingly rare. Perhaps there were a dozen review copies and a dozen presentation copies, in addition to the two that were sold, but only three or four seem to have survived for the pleasure of the latter-day bibliophile.

Here is the title-page in question:

POEMS

BY

CURRER, ELLIS AND ACTON BELL

LONDON AYLOTT & JONES, 8 PATERNOSTER ROW 1846

We see by the letter to Aylott & Jones the first announcement of Wuthering Heights, Agnes Grey, and The Professor. It would not seem that there was much, or indeed any, difficulty in disposing of Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey. They bear the imprint of Newby of Mortimer Street, and they appeared in three uniform volumes, the two first being taken up by Wuthering Heights, and the third by Agnes Grey, {332a} which is quaintly marked as if it were a three-volumed novel in itself, having 'Volume III' on title-page and binding. I have said that there were no travels before the manuscripts of Emily and Anne. That is not quite certain. Mrs. Gaskell implies that there were; but, at any rate, there is no definite information on the subject. Newby, it is clear, did not publish them until all the world was discussing Jane Eyre. The Professor, by Currer Bell, had, however, travel enough! It was offered to six publishers in succession before it came into the hands of Mr. W. S. Williams, the 'reader' for Smith & Elder. The circumstance of its courteous refusal by that firm, and the suggestion that a three-volumed novel would be gladly considered, are within the knowledge of all Charlotte Bronte's admirers. {332b}

One cannot but admire the fearless and uncompromising honesty with which Charlotte Bronte sent the MSS. round with all its previous journeys frankly indicated.

It is not easy at this time of day to understand why Mr. Williams refused The Professor. The story is incomparably superior to the average novel, and, indeed, contains touches which are equal to anything that Currer Bell ever wrote. It seems to me possible that Charlotte Bronte rewrote the story after its rejection, but the manuscript does not bear out that impression. {332c}

Charlotte Bronte's method of writing was to take a piece of cardboard—the broken cover of a book, in fact—and a few sheets of note-paper, and write her first form of a story upon these sheets in a tiny handwriting in pencil. She would afterwards copy the whole out upon quarto paper very neatly in ink. None of the original pencilled MSS. of her greater novels have been preserved. The extant manuscripts of Jane Eyre and The Professor are in ink.

Jane Eyre was written, then, under Mr. Williams's kind encouragement, and immediately accepted. It was published in the first week of October 1847.

The following letters were received by Mr. Williams while the book was beginning its course.

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'October 4th, 1847.

'DEAR SIR,—I thank you sincerely for your last letter. It is valuable to me because it furnishes me with a sound opinion on points respecting which I desired to be advised; be assured I shall do what I can to profit by your wise and good counsel.

'Permit me, however, sir, to caution you against forming too favourable an idea of my powers, or too sanguine an expectation of what they can achieve. I am myself sensible both of deficiencies of capacity and disadvantages of circumstance which will, I fear, render it somewhat difficult for me to attain popularity as an author. The eminent writers you mention—Mr. Thackeray, Mr. Dickens, Mrs. Marsh, {333} etc., doubtless enjoyed facilities for observation such as I have not; certainly they possess a knowledge of the world, whether intuitive or acquired, such as I can lay no claim to, and this gives their writings an importance and a variety greatly beyond what I can offer the public.

'Still, if health be spared and time vouchsafed me, I mean to do my best; and should a moderate success crown my efforts, its value will be greatly enhanced by the proof it will seem to give that your kind counsel and encouragement have not been bestowed on one quite unworthy.—Yours respectfully,

'C. BELL.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'October 9th, 1847.

'DEAR SIR,—I do not know whether the Dublin University Magazine is included in the list of periodicals to which Messrs. Smith & Elder are accustomed to send copies of new publications, but as a former work, the joint production of myself and my two relatives, Ellis and Acton Bell, received a somewhat favourable notice in that magazine, it appears to me that if the editor's attention were drawn to Jane Eyre he might possibly bestow on it also a few words of remark.

'The Critic and the Athenaeum also gave comments on the work I allude to. The review in the first-mentioned paper was unexpectedly and generously eulogistic, that in the Athenaeum more qualified, but still not discouraging. I mention these circumstances and leave it to you to judge whether any advantage is derivable from them.

'You dispensed me from the duty of answering your last letter, but my sense of the justness of the views it expresses will not permit me to neglect this opportunity both of acknowledging it and thanking you for it.—Yours sincerely,

'C. BELL.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'HAWORTH, December 13th, 1847.

'DEAR SIR,—Your advice merits and shall have my most serious attention. I feel the force of your reasoning. It is my wish to do my best in the career on which I have entered. So I shall study and strive; and by dint of time, thought, and effort, I hope yet to deserve in part the encouragement you and others have so generously accorded me. But time will be necessary—that I feel more than ever. In case of Jane Eyre reaching a second edition, I should wish some few corrections to be made, and will prepare an errata. How would the accompanying preface do? I thought it better to be brief.

'The Observer has just reached me. I always compel myself to read the analysis in every newspaper-notice. It is a just punishment, a due though severe humiliation for faults of plan and construction. I wonder if the analysis of other fictions read as absurdly as that of Jane Eyre always does.—I am, dear sir, yours respectfully,

'C. BELL.'

The following letter is interesting because it discusses the rejected novel, and refers to the project of recasting it, which ended in the writing of Villette. {335}

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'December 14th, 1847.

'DEAR SIR,—I have just received your kind and welcome letter of the 11th. I shall proceed at once to discuss the principal subject of it.

'Of course a second work has occupied my thoughts much. I think it would be premature in me to undertake a serial now—I am not yet qualified for the task: I have neither gained a sufficiently firm footing with the public, nor do I possess sufficient confidence in myself, nor can I boast those unflagging animal spirits, that even command of the faculty of composition, which as you say, and, I am persuaded, most justly, is an indispensable requisite to success in serial literature. I decidedly feel that ere I change my ground I had better make another venture in the three volume novel form.

'Respecting the plan of such a work, I have pondered it, but as yet with very unsatisfactory results. Three commencements have I essayed, but all three displease me. A few days since I looked over The Professor. I found the beginning very feeble, the whole narrative deficient in incident and in general attractiveness. Yet the middle and latter portion of the work, all that relates to Brussels, the Belgian school, etc., is as good as I can write: it contains more pith, more substance, more reality, in my judgment, than much of Jane Eyre. It gives, I think, a new view of a grade, an occupation, and a class of characters—all very commonplace, very insignificant in themselves, but not more so than the materials composing that portion of Jane Eyre which seems to please most generally.