'My wish is to recast The Professor, add as well as I can what is deficient, retrench some parts, develop others, and make of it a three volume work—no easy task, I know, yet I trust not an impracticable one.

'I have not forgotten that The Professor was set aside in my agreement with Messrs. Smith & Elder; therefore before I take any step to execute the plan I have sketched, I should wish to have your judgment on its wisdom. You read or looked over the Ms.—what impression have you now respecting its worth? and what confidence have you that I can make it better than it is?

'Feeling certain that from business reasons as well as from natural integrity you will be quite candid with me, I esteem it a privilege to be able thus to consult you.—Believe me, dear sir, yours respectfully,

'C. BELL.

'Wuthering Heights is, I suppose, at length published, at least Mr. Newby has sent the authors their six copies. I wonder how it will be received. I should say it merits the epithets of "vigorous" and "original" much more decidedly than Jane Eyre did. Agnes Grey should please such critics as Mr. Lewes, for it is "true" and "unexaggerated" enough. The books are not well got up—they abound in errors of the press. On a former occasion I expressed myself with perhaps too little reserve regarding Mr. Newby, yet I cannot but feel, and feel painfully, that Ellis and Acton have not had the justice at his hands that I have had at those of Messrs. Smith & Elder.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'December 31st, 1847.

'DEAR SIRS,—I think, for the reasons you mention, it is better to substitute author for editor. I should not be ashamed to be considered the author of Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey, but, possessing no real claim to that honour, I would rather not have it attributed to me, thereby depriving the true authors of their just meed.

'You do very rightly and very kindly to tell me the objections made against Jane Eyre—they are more essential than the praises. I feel a sort of heart-ache when I hear the book called "godless" and "pernicious" by good and earnest-minded men; but I know that heart-ache will be salutary—at least I trust so.

'What is meant by the charges of trickery and artifice I have yet to comprehend. It was no art in me to write a tale—it was no trick in Messrs. Smith & Elder to publish it. Where do the trickery and artifice lie?

'I have received the Scotsman, and was greatly amused to see Jane Eyre likened to Rebecca Sharp—the resemblance would hardly have occurred to me.

'I wish to send this note by to-day's post, and must therefore conclude in haste.—I am, dear sir, yours respectfully,

'C. BELL.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'HAWORTH, January 4th, 1848.

'DEAR SIR,—Your letter made me ashamed of myself that I should ever have uttered a murmur, or expressed by any sign that I was sensible of pain from the unfavourable opinions of some misjudging but well-meaning people. But, indeed, let me assure you, I am not ungrateful for the kindness which has been given me in such abundant measure. I can discriminate the proportions in which blame and praise have been awarded to my efforts: I see well that I have had less of the former and more of the latter than I merit. I am not therefore crushed, though I may be momentarily saddened by the frown, even of the good.

'It would take a great deal to crush me, because I know, in the first place, that my own intentions were correct, that I feel in my heart a deep reverence for religion, that impiety is very abhorrent to me; and in the second, I place firm reliance on the judgment of some who have encouraged me. You and Mr. Lewes are quite as good authorities, in my estimation, as Mr. Dilke or the editor of the Spectator, and I would not under any circumstances, or for any opprobrium, regard with shame what my friends had approved—none but a coward would let the detraction of an enemy outweigh the encouragement of a friend. You must not, therefore, fulfil your threat of being less communicative in future; you must kindly tell me all.

'Miss Kavanagh's view of the maniac coincides with Leigh Hunt's. I agree with them that the character is shocking, but I know that it is but too natural. There is a phase of insanity which may be called moral madness, in which all that is good or even human seems to disappear from the mind, and a fiend-nature replaces it. The sole aim and desire of the being thus possessed is to exasperate, to molest, to destroy, and preternatural ingenuity and energy are often exercised to that dreadful end. The aspect, in such cases, assimilates with the disposition—all seem demonized. It is true that profound pity ought to be the only sentiment elicited by the view of such degradation, and equally true is it that I have not sufficiently dwelt on that feeling: I have erred in making horror too predominant. Mrs. Rochester, indeed, lived a sinful life before she was insane, but sin is itself a species of insanity—the truly good behold and compassionate it as such.

'Jane Eyre has got down into Yorkshire, a copy has even penetrated into this neighbourhood. I saw an elderly clergyman reading it the other day, and had the satisfaction of hearing him exclaim, "Why, they have got —- School, and Mr. —- here, I declare! and Miss —-" (naming the originals of Lowood, Mr. Brocklehurst and Miss Temple). He had known them all. I wondered whether he would recognise the portraits, and was gratified to find that he did, and that, moreover, he pronounced them faithful and just. He said, too, that Mr. —- (Brocklehurst) "deserved the chastisement he had got."

'He did not recognise Currer Bell. What author would be without the advantage of being able to walk invisible? One is thereby enabled to keep such a quiet mind. I make this small observation in confidence.

'What makes you say that the notice in the Westminster Review is not by Mr. Lewes? It expresses precisely his opinions, and he said he would perhaps insert a few lines in that periodical.

'I have sometimes thought that I ought to have written to Mr. Lewes to thank him for his review in Fraser; and, indeed, I did write a note, but then it occurred to me that he did not require the author's thanks, and I feared it would be superfluous to send it, therefore I refrained; however, though I have not expressed gratitude I have felt it.

'I wish you, too, many many happy new years, and prosperity and success to you and yours.—Believe me, etc.,

'CURRER BELL.

'I have received the Courier and the Oxford Chronicle.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'January 22nd, 1848.

'DEAR SIR,—I have received the Morning Herald, and was much pleased with the notice, chiefly on account of the reference made to that portion of the preface which concerns Messrs. Smith & Elder. If my tribute of thanks can benefit my publishers, it is desirable that it should have as much publicity as possible.

'I do not know if the part which relates to Mr. Thackeray is likely to be as well received; but whether generally approved of and understood or not, I shall not regret having written it, for I am convinced of its truth.

'I see I was mistaken in my idea that the Athenaeum and others wished to ascribe the authorship of Wuthering Heights to Currer Bell; the contrary is the case, Jane Eyre is given to Ellis Bell; and Mr. Newby, it appears, thinks it expedient so to frame his advertisements as to favour the misapprehension. If Mr. Newby had much sagacity he would see that Ellis Bell is strong enough to stand without being propped by Currer Bell, and would have disdained what Ellis himself of all things disdains—recourse to trickery. However, Ellis, Acton, and Currer care nothing for the matter personally; the public and the critics are welcome to confuse our identities as much as they choose; my only fear is lest Messrs. Smith & Elder should in some way be annoyed by it.

'I was much interested in your account of Miss Kavanagh. The character you sketch belongs to a class I peculiarly esteem: one in which endurance combines with exertion, talent with goodness; where genius is found unmarred by extravagance, self-reliance unalloyed by self-complacency. It is a character which is, I believe, rarely found except where there has been toil to undergo and adversity to struggle against: it will only grow to perfection in a poor soil and in the shade; if the soil be too indigent, the shade too dank and thick, of course it dies where it sprung. But I trust this will not be the case with Miss Kavanagh. I trust she will struggle ere long into the sunshine. In you she has a kind friend to direct her, and I hope her mother will live to see the daughter, who yields to her such childlike duty, both happy and successful.

'You asked me if I should like any copies of the second edition of Jane Eyre, and I said—no. It is true I do not want any for myself or my acquaintances, but if the request be not unusual, I should much like one to be given to Miss Kavanagh. If you would have the goodness, you might write on the fly-leaf that the book is presented with the author's best wishes for her welfare here and hereafter. My reason for wishing that she should have a copy is because she said the book had been to her a suggestive one, and I know that suggestive books are valuable to authors.

'I am truly sorry to hear that Mr. Smith has had an attack of the prevalent complaint, but I trust his recovery is by this time complete. I cannot boast entire exemption from its ravages, as I now write under its depressing influence. Hoping that you have been more fortunate,—I am, dear sir, yours faithfully,

'C. BELL.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'March 3rd, 1848.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I have received the Christian Remembrancer, and read the review. It is written with some ability; but to do justice was evidently not the critic's main object, therefore he excuses himself from performing that duty.

'I daresay the reviewer imagines that Currer Bell ought to be extremely afflicted, very much cut up, by some smart things he says—this however is not the case. C. Bell is on the whole rather encouraged than dispirited by the review: the hard-wrung praise extorted reluctantly from a foe is the most precious praise of all—you are sure that this, at least, has no admixture of flattery. I fear he has too high an opinion of my abilities and of what I can do; but that is his own fault. In other respects, he aims his shafts in the dark, and the success, or, rather, ill-success of his hits makes me laugh rather than cry. His shafts of sarcasm are nicely polished, keenly pointed; he should not have wasted them in shooting at a mark he cannot see.

'I hope such reviews will not make much difference with me, and that if the spirit moves me in future to say anything about priests, etc., I shall say it with the same freedom as heretofore. I hope also that their anger will not make me angry. As a body, I had no ill-will against them to begin with, and I feel it would be an error to let opposition engender such ill-will. A few individuals may possibly be called upon to sit for their portraits some time; if their brethren in general dislike the resemblance and abuse the artist—tant pis!—Believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely,

'C. BELL.'

It seems that Mr. Williams had hinted that Charlotte might like to emulate Thackeray by illustrating her own books.

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'March 11th, 1848.

'DEAR SIR,—I have just received the copy of the second edition, and will look over it, and send the corrections as soon as possible; I will also, since you think it advisable, avail myself of the opportunity of a third edition to correct the mistake respecting the authorship of Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey.

'As to your second suggestion, it is, one can see at a glance, a very judicious and happy one; but I cannot adopt it, because I have not the skill you attribute to me. It is not enough to have the artist's eye, one must also have the artist's hand to turn the first gift to practical account. I have, in my day, wasted a certain quantity of Bristol board and drawing-paper, crayons and cakes of colour, but when I examine the contents of my portfolio now, it seems as if during the years it has been lying closed some fairy had changed what I once thought sterling coin into dry leaves, and I feel much inclined to consign the whole collection of drawings to the fire; I see they have no value. If, then, Jane Eyre is ever to be illustrated, it must be by some other hand than that of its author. But I hope no one will be at the trouble to make portraits of my characters. Bulwer and Byron heroes and heroines are very well, they are all of them handsome; but my personages are mostly unattractive in look, and therefore ill-adapted to figure in ideal portraits. At the best, I have always thought such representations futile. You will not easily find a second Thackeray. How he can render, with a few black lines and dots, shades of expression so fine, so real; traits of character so minute, so subtle, so difficult to seize and fix, I cannot tell—I can only wonder and admire. Thackeray may not be a painter, but he is a wizard of a draughtsman; touched with his pencil, paper lives. And then his drawing is so refreshing; after the wooden limbs one is accustomed to see pourtrayed by commonplace illustrators, his shapes of bone and muscle clothed with flesh, correct in proportion and anatomy, are a real relief. All is true in Thackeray. If Truth were again a goddess, Thackeray should be her high priest.

'I read my preface over with some pain—I did not like it. I wrote it when I was a little enthusiastic, like you, about the French Revolution. I wish I had written it in a cool moment; I should have said the same things, but in a different manner. One may be as enthusiastic as one likes about an author who has been dead a century or two, but I see it is a fault to bore the public with enthusiasm about a living author. I promise myself to take better care in future. Still I will think as I please.

'Are the London republicans, and you amongst the number, cooled down yet? I suppose not, because your French brethren are acting very nobly. The abolition of slavery and of the punishment of death for political offences are two glorious deeds, but how will they get over the question of the organisation of labour! Such theories will be the sand-bank on which their vessel will run aground if they don't mind. Lamartine, there is not doubt, would make an excellent legislator for a nation of Lamartines—but where is that nation? I hope these observations are sceptical and cool enough.—Believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely,

'C. BELL.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'November 16th, 1848.

'MY DEAR SIRS,—I have already acknowledged in a note to Mr. Smith the receipt of the parcel of books, and in my thanks for this well-timed attention I am sure I ought to include you; your taste, I thought, was recognisable in the choice of some of the volumes, and a better selection it would have been difficult to make.

'To-day I have received the Spectator and the Revue des deux Mondes. The Spectator consistently maintains the tone it first assumed regarding the Bells. I have little to object to its opinion as far as Currer Bell's portion of the volume is concerned. It is true the critic sees only the faults, but for these his perception is tolerably accurate. Blind is he as any bat, insensate as any stone, to the merits of Ellis. He cannot feel or will not acknowledge that the very finish and labor limae which Currer wants, Ellis has; he is not aware that the "true essence of poetry" pervades his compositions. Because Ellis's poems are short and abstract, the critics think them comparatively insignificant and dull. They are mistaken.

'The notice in the Revue des deux Mondes is one of the most able, the most acceptable to the author, of any that has yet appeared. Eugene Forcade understood and enjoyed Jane Eyre. I cannot say that of all who have professed to criticise it. The censures are as well-founded as the commendations. The specimens of the translation given are on the whole good; now and then the meaning of the original has been misapprehended, but generally it is well rendered.

'Every cup given us to taste in this life is mixed. Once it would have seemed to me that an evidence of success like that contained in the Revue would have excited an almost exultant feeling in my mind. It comes, however, at a time when counteracting circumstances keep the balance of the emotions even—when my sister's continued illness darkens the present and dims the future. That will seem to me a happy day when I can announce to you that Emily is better. Her symptoms continue to be those of slow inflammation of the lungs, tight cough, difficulty of breathing, pain in the chest, and fever. We watch anxiously for a change for the better—may it soon come.—I am, my dear sir, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.

'As I was about to seal this I received your kind letter. Truly glad am I to hear that Fanny is taking the path which pleases her parents. I trust she may persevere in it. She may be sure that a contrary one will never lead to happiness; and I should think that the reward of seeing you and her mother pleased must be so sweet that she will be careful not to run the risk of forfeiting it.

'It is somewhat singular that I had already observed to my sisters, I did not doubt it was Mr. Lewes who had shown you the Revue.'

The many other letters referring to Emily's last illness have already been printed. When the following letters were written, Emily and Anne were both in their graves.

TO JAMES TAYLOR, CORNHILL

'March 1st, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—The parcel arrived on Saturday evening. Permit me to express my sense of the judgment and kindness which have dictated the selection of its contents. They appear to be all good books, and good books are, we know, the best substitute for good society; if circumstances debar me from the latter privilege, the kind attentions of my friends supply me with ample measure of the former.

'Thank you for your remarks on Shirley. Some of your strictures tally with some by Mr. Williams. You both complain of the want of distinctness and impressiveness in my heroes. Probably you are right. In delineating male character I labour under disadvantages: intuition and theory will not always adequately supply the place of observation and experience. When I write about women I am sure of my ground—in the other case, I am not so sure.

'Here, then, each of you has laid the critical finger on a point that by its shrinking confesses its vulnerability; whether the disapprobation you intimate respecting the Briarchapel scenes, the curates, etc., be equally merited, time will show. I am well aware what will be the author's present meed for these passages: I anticipate general blame and no praise. And were my motive-principle in writing a thirst for popularity, or were the chief check on my pen a dread of censure, I should withdraw these scenes—or rather, I should never have written them. I will not say whether the considerations that really govern me are sound, or whether my convictions are just; but such as they are, to their influence I must yield submission. They forbid me to sacrifice truth to the fear of blame. I accept their prohibition.

'With the sincere expression of my esteem for the candour by which your critique is distinguished,—I am, my dear sir, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'August 16th, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—Since I last wrote to you I have been getting on with my book as well as I can, and I think I may now venture to say that in a few weeks I hope to have the pleasure of placing the MS. in the hands of Mr. Smith.

'The North British Review duly reached me. I read attentively all it says about E. Wyndham, Jane Eyre, and F. Hervey. Much of the article is clever, and yet there are remarks which—for me—rob it of importance.

'To value praise or stand in awe of blame we must respect the source whence the praise and blame proceed, and I do not respect an inconsistent critic. He says, "if Jane Eyre be the production of a woman, she must be a woman unsexed."

'In that case the book is an unredeemed error and should be unreservedly condemned. Jane Eyre is a woman's autobiography, by a woman it is professedly written. If it is written as no woman would write, condemn it with spirit and decision—say it is bad, but do not eulogise and then detract. I am reminded of the Economist. The literary critic of that paper praised the book if written by a man, and pronounced it "odious" if the work of a woman.

'To such critics I would say, "To you I am neither man nor woman—I come before you as an author only. It is the sole standard by which you have a right to judge me—the sole ground on which I accept your judgment."

'There is a weak comment, having no pretence either to justice or discrimination, on the works of Ellis and Acton Bell. The critic did not know that those writers had passed from time and life. I have read no review since either of my sisters died which I could have wished them to read—none even which did not render the thought of their departure more tolerable to me. To hear myself praised beyond them was cruel, to hear qualities ascribed to them so strangely the reverse of their real characteristics was scarce supportable. It is sad even now; but they are so remote from earth, so safe from its turmoils, I can bear it better.

'But on one point do I now feel vulnerable: I should grieve to see my father's peace of mind perturbed on my account; for which reason I keep my author's existence as much as possible out of his way. I have always given him a carefully diluted and modified account of the success of Jane Eyre—just what would please without startling him. The book is not mentioned between us once a month. The Quarterly I kept to myself—it would have worried papa. To that same Quarterly I must speak in the introduction to my present work—just one little word. You once, I remember, said that review was written by a lady—Miss Rigby. Are you sure of this?

'Give no hint of my intention of discoursing a little with the Quarterly. It would look too important to speak of it beforehand. All plans are best conceived and executed without noise.—Believe me, yours sincerely,

'C. B.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'August 21st, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I can only write very briefly at present—first to thank you for your interesting letter and the graphic description it contained of the neighbourhood where you have been staying, and then to decide about the title of the book.

'If I remember rightly, my Cornhill critics objected to Hollow's Mill, nor do I now find it appropriate. It might rather be called Fieldhead, though I think Shirley would perhaps be the best title. Shirley, I fancy, has turned out the most prominent and peculiar character in the work.

'Cornhill may decide between Fieldhead and Shirley.—Believe me, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

The famous Quarterly Review article by Miss Rigby, afterwards Lady Eastlake, {348} appeared in December 1848, under the title of 'Vanity Fair, Jane Eyre, and Governesses.' It was a review of two novels and a treatise on schools, and but for one or two offensive passages might have been pronounced fairly complimentary. To have coupled Jane Eyre with Thackeray's great book, at a time when Thackeray had already reached to heroic proportions in the literary world, was in itself a compliment. It is small wonder that the speculation was hazarded that J. G. Lockhart, the editor of the Quarterly, had himself supplied the venom. He could display it on occasion. It is quite clear now, however, that that was not the case. Miss Rigby was the reviewer who thought it within a critic's province to suggest that the writer might be a woman 'who had forfeited the society of her sex.' Lockhart must have read the review hastily, as editors will on occasion. He writes to his contributor on November 13, 1848, before the article had appeared:—

'About three years ago I received a small volume of 'Poems by Currer, Acton, and Ellis Bell,' and a queer little note by Currer, who said the book had been published a year, and just two copies sold, so they were to burn the rest, but distributed a few copies, mine being one. I find what seems rather a fair review of that tiny tome in the Spectator of this week; pray look at it.

'I think the poems of Currer much better than those of Acton and Ellis, and believe his novel is vastly better than those which they have more recently put forth.

'I know nothing of the writers, but the common rumour is that they are brothers of the weaving order in some Lancashire town. At first it was generally said Currer was a lady, and Mayfair circumstantialised by making her the chere amie of Mr. Thackeray. But your skill in "dress" settles the question of sex. I think, however, some woman must have assisted in the school scenes of Jane Eyre, which have a striking air of truthfulness to me—an ignoramus, I allow, on such points.

'I should say you might as well glance at the novels by Acton and Ellis Bell—Wuthering Heights is one of them. If you have any friend about Manchester, it would, I suppose, be easy to learn accurately as to the position of these men.' {349}

This was written in November, and it was not till December that the article appeared. Apart from the offensive imputations upon the morals of the author of Jane Eyre, which reduces itself to smart impertinence when it is understood that Miss Rigby fully believed that the author was a man, the review is not without its compensations for a new writer. The 'equal popularity' of Jane Eyre and Vanity Fair is referred to. 'A very remarkable book,' the reviewer continues; 'we have no remembrance of another containing such undoubted power with such horrid taste.' There is droll irony, when Charlotte Bronte's strong conservative sentiments and church environment are considered, in the following:—

'We do not hesitate to say that the tone of mind and thought which has overthrown authority, and violated every code, human and divine, abroad, and fostered chartism and rebellion at home, is the same which has also written Jane Eyre.'

In another passage Miss Rigby, musing upon the masculinity of the author, finally clinches her arguments by proofs of a kind.

'No woman trusses game, and garnishes dessert dishes with the same hands, or talks of so doing in the same breath. Above all, no woman attires another in such fancy dresses as Jane's ladies assume. Miss Ingram coming down irresistible in a morning robe of sky-blue crape, a gauze azure scarf twisted in her hair!! No lady, we understand, when suddenly roused in the night, would think of hurrying on "a frock." They have garments more convenient for such occasions, and more becoming too.'

Wuthering Heights is described as 'too odiously and abominably pagan to be palatable to the most vitiated class of English readers.' This no doubt was Miss Rigby's interpolation in the proofs in reply to her editor's suggestion that she should 'glance at the novels by Acton and Ellis Bell.' It is a little difficult to understand the Quarterly editor's method, or, indeed, the letter to Miss Rigby which I have quoted, as he had formed a very different estimate of the book many months before. 'I have finished the adventures of Miss Jane Eyre,' he writes to Mrs. Hope (Dec. 29th, 1847), 'and think her far the cleverest that has written since Austen and Edgeworth were in their prime, worth fifty Trollopes and Martineaus rolled into one counterpane, with fifty Dickenses and Bulwers to keep them company—but rather a brazen Miss.' {350}

When the Quarterly Review appeared, Charlotte Bronte, as we have seen, was in dire domestic distress, and it was not till many months later, when a new edition of Jane Eyre was projected, that she discussed with her publishers the desirability of an effective reply, which was not however to disclose her sex and environment. A first preface called 'A Word to the Quarterly' was cancelled, and after some debate, the preface which we now have took its place. The 'book' is of course Shirley.

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'August 29th, 1849.

'DEAR SIR,—The book is now finished (thank God) and ready for Mr. Taylor, but I have not yet heard from him. I thought I should be able to tell whether it was equal to Jane Eyre or not, but I find I cannot—it may be better, it may be worse. I shall be curious to hear your opinion, my own is of no value. I send the Preface or "Word to the Quarterly" for your perusal.

'Whatever now becomes of the work, the occupation of writing it has been a boon to me. It took me out of dark and desolate reality into an unreal but happier region. The worst of it is, my eyes are grown somewhat weak and my head somewhat weary and prone to ache with close work. You can write nothing of value unless you give yourself wholly to the theme, and when you so give yourself, you lose appetite and sleep—it cannot be helped.

'At what time does Mr. Smith intend to bring the book out? It is his now. I hand it and all the trouble and care and anxiety over to him—a good riddance, only I wish he fairly had it.—Yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'August 31st, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I cannot change my preface. I can shed no tears before the public, nor utter any groan in the public ear. The deep, real tragedy of our domestic experience is yet terribly fresh in my mind and memory. It is not a time to be talked about to the indifferent; it is not a topic for allusion to in print.

'No righteous indignation can I lavish on the Quarterly. I can condescend but to touch it with the lightest satire. Believe me, my dear sir, "C. Bronte" must not here appear; what she feels or has felt is not the question—it is "Currer Bell" who was insulted—he must reply. Let Mr. Smith fearlessly print the preface I have sent—let him depend upon me this once; even if I prove a broken reed, his fall cannot be dangerous: a preface is a short distance, it is not three volumes.

'I have always felt certain that it is a deplorable error in an author to assume the tragic tone in addressing the public about his own wrongs or griefs. What does the public care about him as an individual? His wrongs are its sport; his griefs would be a bore. What we deeply feel is our own—we must keep it to ourselves. Ellis and Acton Bell were, for me, Emily and Anne; my sisters—to me intimately near, tenderly dear—to the public they were nothing—worse than nothing—beings speculated upon, misunderstood, misrepresented. If I live, the hour may come when the spirit will move me to speak of them, but it is not come yet.—I am, my dear sir, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'September 17, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—Your letter gave me great pleasure. An author who has showed his book to none, held no consultation about plan, subject, characters, or incidents, asked and had no opinion from one living being, but fabricated it darkly in the silent workshop of his own brain—such an author awaits with a singular feeling the report of the first impression produced by his creation in a quarter where he places confidence, and truly glad he is when that report proves favourable.

'Do you think this book will tend to strengthen the idea that Currer Bell is a woman, or will it favour a contrary opinion?

'I return the proof-sheets. Will they print all the French phrases in italics? I hope not, it makes them look somehow obtrusively conspicuous.

'I have no time to add more lest I should be too late for the post.—Yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'September 10th, 1849.

'DEAR SIR,—Your advice is very good, and yet I cannot follow it: I cannot alter now. It sounds absurd, but so it is.

'The circumstances of Shirley's being nervous on such a matter may appear incongruous because I fear it is not well managed; otherwise it is perfectly natural. In such minds, such odd points, such queer unexpected inconsistent weaknesses are found—perhaps there never was an ardent poetic temperament, however healthy, quite without them; but they never communicate them unless forced, they have a suspicion that the terror is absurd, and keep it hidden. Still the thing is badly managed, and I bend my head and expect in resignation what, here, I know I deserve—the lash of criticism. I shall wince when it falls, but not scream.

'You are right about Goth, you are very right—he is clear, deep, but very cold. I acknowledge him great, but cannot feel him genial.

'You mention the literary coteries. To speak the truth, I recoil from them, though I long to see some of the truly great literary characters. However, this is not to be yet—I cannot sacrifice my incognito. And let me be content with seclusion—it has its advantages. In general, indeed, I am tranquil, it is only now and then that a struggle disturbs me—that I wish for a wider world than Haworth. When it is past, Reason tells me how unfit I am for anything very different. Yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'September 15th, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—You observed that the French of Shirley might be cavilled at. There is a long paragraph written in the French language in that chapter entitled "Le coeval damped." I forget the number. I fear it will have a pretentious air. If you deem it advisable, and will return the chapter, I will efface, and substitute something else in English.—Yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO JAMES TAYLOR, CORNHILL

'September 20th, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—It is time I answered the note which I received from you last Thursday; I should have replied to it before had I not been kept more than usually engaged by the presence of a clergyman in the house, and the indisposition of one of our servants.

'As you may conjecture, it cheered and pleased me much to learn that the opinion of my friends in Cornhill was favourable to Shirley—that, on the whole, it was considered no falling off from Jane Eyre. I am trying, however, not to encourage too sanguine an expectation of a favourable reception by the public: the seeds of prejudice have been sown, and I suppose the produce will have to be reaped—but we shall see.

'I read with pleasure Friends in Council, and with very great pleasure The Thoughts and Opinions of a Statesman. It is the record of what may with truth be termed a beautiful mind—serene, harmonious, elevated, and pure; it bespeaks, too, a heart full of kindness and sympathy. I like it much.

'Papa has been pretty well during the past week, he begs to join me in kind remembrances to yourself.—Believe me, my dear sir, yours very sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'September 29th, 1849.

'DEAR SIR,—I have made the alteration; but I have made it to please Cornhill, not the public nor the critics.

'I am sorry to say Newby does know my real name. I wish he did not, but that cannot be helped. Meantime, though I earnestly wish to preserve my incognito, I live under no slavish fear of discovery. I am ashamed of nothing I have written—not a line.

'The envelope containing the first proof and your letter had been received open at the General Post Office and resealed there. Perhaps it was accident, but I think it better to inform you of the circumstance.—Yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'October 1st, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I am chagrined about the envelope being opened: I see it is the work of prying curiosity, and now it would be useless to make a stir—what mischief is to be apprehended is already done. It was not done at Haworth. I know the people of the post-office there, and am sure they would not venture on such a step; besides, the Haworth people have long since set me down as bookish and quiet, and trouble themselves no farther about me. But the gossiping inquisitiveness of small towns is rife at Keighley; there they are sadly puzzled to guess why I never visit, encourage no overtures to acquaintance, and always stay at home. Those packets passing backwards and forwards by the post have doubtless aggravated their curiosity. Well, I am sorry, but I shall try to wait patiently and not vex myself too much, come what will.

'I am glad you like the English substitute for the French devour.

'The parcel of books came on Saturday. I write to Mr. Taylor by this post to acknowledge its receipt. His opinion of Shirley seems in a great measure to coincide with yours, only he expresses it rather differently to you, owing to the difference in your casts of mind. Are you not different on some points?—Yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'November 1st, 1849

'MY DEAR SIR,—I reached home yesterday, and found your letter and one from Mr. Lewes, and one from the Peace Congress Committee, awaiting my arrival. The last document it is now too late to answer, for it was an invitation to Currer Bell to appear on the platform at their meeting at Exeter Hall last Tuesday! A wonderful figure Mr. Currer Bell would have cut under such circumstances! Should the "Peace Congress" chance to read Shirley they will wash their hands of its author.

'I am glad to hear that Mr. Thackeray is better, but I did not know he had been seriously ill, I thought it was only a literary indisposition. You must tell me what he thinks of Shirley if he gives you any opinion on the subject.

'I am also glad to hear that Mr. Smith is pleased with the commercial prospects of the work. I try not to be anxious about its literary fate; and if I cannot be quite stoical, I think I am still tolerably resigned.

'Mr. Lewes does not like the opening chapter, wherein he resembles you.

'I have permitted myself the treat of spending the last week with my friend Ellen. Her residence is in a far more populous and stirring neighbourhood than this. Whenever I go there I am unavoidably forced into society—clerical society chiefly.

'During my late visit I have too often had reason, sometimes in a pleasant, sometimes in a painful form, to fear that I no longer walk invisible. Jane Eyre, it appears, has been read all over the district—a fact of which I never dreamt—a circumstance of which the possibility never occurred to me. I met sometimes with new deference, with augmented kindness: old schoolfellows and old teachers, too, greeted me with generous warmth. And again, ecclesiastical brows lowered thunder at me. When I confronted one or two large-made priests, I longed for the battle to come on. I wish they would speak out plainly. You must not understand that my schoolfellows and teachers were of the Clergy Daughters School—in fact, I was never there but for one little year as a very little girl. I am certain I have long been forgotten; though for myself, I remember all and everything clearly: early impressions are ineffaceable.

'I have just received the Daily News. Let me speak the truth—when I read it my heart sickened over it. It is not a good review, it is unutterably false. If Shirley strikes all readers as it has struck that one, but—I shall not say what follows.

'On the whole I am glad a decidedly bad notice has come first—a notice whose inexpressible ignorance first stuns and then stirs me. Are there no such men as the Helstones and Yorkes?

'Yes, there are.

'Is the first chapter disgusting or vulgar?

'It is not, it is real.

'As for the praise of such a critic, I find it silly and nauseous, and I scorn it.

'Were my sisters now alive they and I would laugh over this notice; but they sleep, they will wake no more for me, and I am a fool to be so moved by what is not worth a sigh.—Believe me, yours sincerely,

'C. B.

'You must spare me if I seem hasty, I fear I really am not so firm as I used to be, nor so patient. Whenever any shock comes, I feel that almost all supports have been withdrawn.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'November 5th, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I did not receive the parcel of copies till Saturday evening. Everything sent by Bradford is long in reaching me. It is, I think, better to direct: Keighley. I was very much pleased with the appearance and getting up of the book; it looks well.

'I have got the Examiner and your letter. You are very good not to be angry with me, for I wrote in indignation and grief. The critic of the Daily News struck me as to the last degree incompetent, ignorant, and flippant. A thrill of mutiny went all through me when I read his small effusion. To be judged by such a one revolted me. I ought, however, to have controlled myself, and I did not. I am willing to be judged by the Examiner—I like the Examiner. Fonblanque has power, he has discernment—I bend to his censorship, I am grateful for his praise; his blame deserves consideration; when he approves, I permit myself a moderate emotion of pride. Am I wrong in supposing that critique to be written by Mr. Fonblanque? But whether it is by him or Forster, I am thankful.

'In reading the critiques of the other papers—when I get them—I will try to follow your advice and preserve my equanimity. But I cannot be sure of doing this, for I had good resolutions and intentions before, and, you see, I failed.

'You ask me if I am related to Nelson. No, I never heard that I was. The rumour must have originated in our name resembling his title. I wonder who that former schoolfellow of mine was that told Mr. Lewes, or how she had been enabled to identify Currer Bell with C. Bronte. She could not have been a Cowan Bridge girl, none of them can possibly remember me. They might remember my eldest sister, Maria; her prematurely-developed and remarkable intellect, as well as the mildness, wisdom, and fortitude of her character might have left an indelible impression on some observant mind amongst her companions. My second sister, Elizabeth, too, may perhaps be remembered, but I cannot conceive that I left a trace behind me. My career was a very quiet one. I was plodding and industrious, perhaps I was very grave, for I suffered to see my sisters perishing, but I think I was remarkable for nothing.—Believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'November 15th, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I have received since I wrote last the Globe, Standard of Freedom, Britannia, Economist, and Weekly Chronicle.

'How is Shirley getting on, and what is now the general feeling respecting the work?

'As far as I can judge from the tone of the newspapers, it seems that those who were most charmed with Jane Eyre are the least pleased with Shirley; they are disappointed at not finding the same excitement, interest, stimulus; while those who spoke disparagingly of Jane Eyre like Shirley a little better than her predecessor. I suppose its dryer matter suits their dryer minds. But I feel that the fiat for which I wait does not depend on newspapers, except, indeed, such newspapers as the Examiner. The monthlies and quarterlies will pronounce it, I suppose. Mere novel-readers, it is evident, think Shirley something of a failure. Still, the majority of the notices have on the whole been favourable. That in the Standard of Freedom was very kindly expressed; and coming from a dissenter, William Howitt, I wonder thereat.

'Are you satisfied at Cornhill, or the contrary? I have read part of The Caxtons, and, when I have finished, will tell you what I think of it; meantime, I should very much like to hear your opinion. Perhaps I shall keep mine till I see you, whenever that may be.

'I am trying by degrees to inure myself to the thought of some day stepping over to Keighley, taking the train to Leeds, thence to London, and once more venturing to set foot in the strange, busy whirl of the Strand and Cornhill. I want to talk to you a little and to hear by word of mouth how matters are progressing. Whenever I come, I must come quietly and but for a short time—I should be unhappy to leave papa longer than a fortnight.—Believe me, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'November 22nd, 1849.

'MY DEAR SIR,—If it is discouraging to an author to see his work mouthed over by the entirely ignorant and incompetent, it is equally reviving to hear what you have written discussed and analysed by a critic who is master of his subject—by one whose heart feels, whose powers grasp the matter he undertakes to handle. Such refreshment Eugene Forcade has given me. Were I to see that man, my impulse would be to say, "Monsieur, you know me, I shall deem it an honour to know you."

'I do not find that Forcade detects any coarseness in the work—it is for the smaller critics to find that out. The master in the art—the subtle-thoughted, keen-eyed, quick-feeling Frenchman, knows the true nature of the ingredients which went to the composition of the creation he analyses—he knows the true nature of things, and he gives them their right name.

'Yours of yesterday has just reached me. Let me, in the first place, express my sincere sympathy with your anxiety on Mrs. Williams's account. I know how sad it is when pain and suffering attack those we love, when that mournful guest sickness comes and takes a place in the household circle. That the shadow may soon leave your home is my earnest hope.

'Thank you for Sir J. Herschel's note. I am happy to hear Mr. Taylor is convalescent. It may, perhaps, be some weeks yet before his hand is well, but that his general health is in the way of re-establishment is a matter of thankfulness.

'One of the letters you sent to-day addressed "Currer Bell" has almost startled me. The writer first describes his family, and then proceeds to give a particular account of himself in colours the most candid, if not, to my ideas, the most attractive. He runs on in a strain of wild enthusiasm about Shirley, and concludes by announcing a fixed, deliberate resolution to institute a search after Currer Bell, and sooner or later to find him out. There is power in the letter—talent; it is at times eloquently expressed. The writer somewhat boastfully intimates that he is acknowledged the possessor of high intellectual attainments, but, if I mistake not, he betrays a temper to be shunned, habits to be mistrusted. While laying claim to the character of being affectionate, warm-hearted, and adhesive, there is but a single member of his own family of whom he speaks with kindness. He confesses himself indolent and wilful, but asserts that he is studious and, to some influences, docile. This letter would have struck me no more than the others rather like it have done, but for its rash power, and the disagreeable resolve it announces to seek and find Currer Bell. It almost makes me feel like a wizard who has raised a spirit he may find it difficult to lay. But I shall not think about it. This sort of fervour often foams itself away in words.

'Trusting that the serenity of your home is by this time restored with your wife's health,—I am, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'February 16th, 1850.

'DEAR NELL,—Yesterday, just after dinner, I heard a loud bustling voice in the kitchen demanding to see Mr. Bronte. Somebody was shown into the parlour. Shortly after, wine was rung for. "Who is it, Martha?" I asked. "Some mak of a tradesman," said she. "He's not a gentleman, I'm sure." The personage stayed about an hour, talking in a loud vulgar key all the time. At tea-time I asked papa who it was. "Why," said he, "no other than the vicar of B—-!" {361} Papa had invited him to take some refreshment, but the creature had ordered his dinner at the Black Bull, and was quite urgent with papa to go down there and join him, offering by way of inducement a bottle, or, if papa liked, "two or three bottles of the best wine Haworth could afford!" He said he was come from Bradford just to look at the place, and reckoned to be in raptures with the wild scenery! He warmly pressed papa to come and see him, and to bring his daughter with him!!! Does he know anything about the books, do you think; he made no allusion to them. I did not see him, not so much as the tail of his coat. Martha said he looked no more like a parson than she did. Papa described him as rather shabby-looking, but said he was wondrous cordial and friendly. Papa, in his usual fashion, put him through a regular catechism of questions: what his living was worth, etc., etc. In answer to inquiries respecting his age he affirmed himself to be thirty-seven—is not this a lie? He must be more. Papa asked him if he were married. He said no, he had no thoughts of being married, he did not like the trouble of a wife. He described himself as "living in style, and keeping a very hospitable house."

'Dear Nell, I have written you a long letter; write me a long one in answer.

'C. B.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'April 3rd, 1850.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I have received the Dublin Review, and your letter inclosing the Indian Notices. I hope these reviews will do good; they are all favourable, and one of them (the Dublin) is very able. I have read no critique so discriminating since that in the Revue des deux Mondes. It offers a curious contrast to Lewes's in the Edinburgh, where forced praise, given by jerks, and obviously without real and cordial liking, and censure, crude, conceited, and ignorant, were mixed in random lumps—forming a very loose and inconsistent whole.

'Are you aware whether there are any grounds for that conjecture in the Bengal Hurkaru, that the critique in the Times was from the pen of Mr. Thackeray? I should much like to know this. If such were the case (and I feel as if it were by no means impossible), the circumstance would open a most curious and novel glimpse of a very peculiar disposition. Do you think it likely to be true?

'The account you give of Mrs. Williams's health is not cheering, but I should think her indisposition is partly owing to the variable weather; at least, if you have had the same keen frost and cold east winds in London, from which we have lately suffered in Yorkshire. I trust the milder temperature we are now enjoying may quickly confirm her convalescence. With kind regards to Mrs. Williams,—Believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'April 25th, 1850.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I cannot let the post go without thanking Mr. Smith through you for the kind reply to Greenwood's application; and, I am sure, both you and he would feel true pleasure could you see the delight and hope with which these liberal terms have inspired a good and intelligent though poor man. He thinks he now sees a prospect of getting his livelihood by a method which will suit him better than wool-combing work has hitherto done, exercising more of his faculties and sparing his health. He will do his best, I am sure, to extend the sale of the cheap edition of Jane Eyre; and whatever twinges I may still feel at the thought of that work being in the possession of all the worthy folk of Haworth and Keighley, such scruples are more than counterbalanced by the attendant good;—I mean, by the assistance it will give a man who deserves assistance. I wish he could permanently establish a little bookselling business in Haworth: it would benefit the place as well as himself.

'Thank you for the Leader, which I read with pleasure. The notice of Newman's work in a late number was very good.—Believe me, my dear sir, in haste, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'May 6th, 1850.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I have received the copy of Jane Eyre. To me the printing and paper seem very tolerable. Will not the public in general be of the same opinion? And are you not making yourselves causelessly uneasy on the subject?

'I imagine few will discover the defects of typography unless they are pointed out. There are, no doubt, technical faults and perfections in the art of printing to which printers and publishers ascribe a greater importance than the majority of readers.

'I will mention Mr. Smith's proposal respecting the cheap publications to Greenwood. I believe him to be a man on whom encouragement is not likely to be thrown away, and who, if fortune should not prove quite adverse, will contrive to effect something by dint of intelligence and perseverance.

'I am sorry to say my father has been far from well lately—the cold weather has tried him severely; and, till I see him better, my intended journey to town must be deferred. With sincere regards to yourself and other Cornhill friends,—I am, my dear sir, yours faithfully,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'September 5th, 1850.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I trust your suggestion for Miss Kavanagh's benefit will have all success. It seems to me truly felicitous and excellent, and, I doubt not, she will think so too. The last class of female character will be difficult to manage: there will be nice points in it—yet, well-managed, both an attractive and instructive book might result therefrom. One thing may be depended upon in the execution of this plan. Miss Kavanagh will commit no error, either of taste, judgment, or principle; and even when she deals with the feelings, I would rather follow the calm course of her quiet pen than the flourishes of a more redundant one where there is not strength to restrain as well as ardour to impel.

'I fear I seemed to you to speak coolly of the beauty of the Lake scenery. The truth is, it was, as scenery, exquisite—far beyond anything I saw in Scotland; but it did not give me half so much pleasure, because I saw it under less congenial auspices. Mr. Smith and Sir J. K. Shuttleworth are two different people with whom to travel. I need say nothing of the former—you know him. The latter offers me his friendship, and I do my best to be grateful for the gift; but his is a nature with which it is difficult to assimilate—and where there is no assimilation, how can there be real regard? Nine parts out of ten in him are utilitarian—the tenth is artistic. This tithe of his nature seems to me at war with all the rest—it is just enough to incline him restlessly towards the artist class, and far too little to make him one of them. The consequent inability to do things which he admires, embitters him I think—it makes him doubt perfections and dwell on faults. Then his notice or presence scarcely tend to set one at ease or make one happy: he is worldly and formal. But I must stop—have I already said too much? I think not, for you will feel it is said in confidence and will not repeat it.

'The article in the Palladium is indeed such as to atone for a hundred unfavourable or imbecile reviews. I have expressed what I think of it to Mr. Taylor, who kindly wrote me a letter on the subject. I thank you also for the newspaper notices, and for some you sent me a few weeks ago.

'I should much like to carry out your suggestions respecting a reprint of Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey in one volume, with a prefatory and explanatory notice of the authors; but the question occurs, Would Newby claim it? I could not bear to commit it to any other hands than those of Mr. Smith. Wildfell Hall, it hardly appears to me desirable to preserve. The choice of subject in that work is a mistake: it was too little consonant with the character, tastes, and ideas of the gentle, retiring, inexperienced writer. She wrote it under a strange, conscientious, half-ascetic notion of accomplishing a painful penance and a severe duty. Blameless in deed and almost in thought, there was from her very childhood a tinge of religious melancholy in her mind. This I ever suspected, and I have found amongst her papers mournful proofs that such was the case. As to additional compositions, I think there would be none, as I would not offer a line to the publication of which my sisters themselves would have objected.

'I must conclude or I shall be too late for the post.—Believe me, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'September 13th, 1850.

'MY DEAR SIR,—Mr. Newby undertook first to print 350 copies of Wuthering Heights, but he afterwards declared he had only printed 250. I doubt whether he could be induced to return the 50 pounds without a good deal of trouble—much more than I should feel justified in delegating to Mr. Smith. For my own part, the conclusion I drew from the whole of Mr. Newby's conduct to my sisters was that he is a man with whom it is desirable to have little to do. I think he must be needy as well as tricky—and if he is, one would not distress him, even for one's rights.

'If Mr. Smith thinks right to reprint Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey, I would prepare a preface comprising a brief and simple notice of the authors, such as might set at rest all erroneous conjectures respecting their identity—and adding a few poetical remains of each.

'In case this arrangement is approved, you will kindly let me know, and I will commence the task (a sad, but, I believe, a necessary one), and send it when finished.—I am, my dear sir, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'October 16th, 1850.

'MY DEAR SIR,—On the whole it is perhaps as well that the last paragraph of the Preface should be omitted, for I believe it was not expressed with the best grace in the world. You must not, however, apologise for your suggestion—it was kindly meant and, believe me, kindly taken; it was not you I misunderstood—not for a moment, I never misunderstand you—I was thinking of the critics and the public, who are always crying for a moral like the Pharisees for a sign. Does this assurance quite satisfy you?

'I forgot to say that I had already heard, first from Miss Martineau, and subsequently through an intimate friend of Sydney Yendys (whose real name is Mr. Dobell) that it was to the author of the Roman we are indebted for that eloquent article in the Palladium. I am glad you are going to send his poem, for I much wished to see it.

'May I trouble you to look at a sentence in the Preface which I have erased, because on reading it over I was not quite sure about the scientific correctness of the expressions used. Metal, I know, will burn in vivid-coloured flame, exposed to galvanic action, but whether it is consumed, I am not sure. Perhaps you or Mr. Taylor can tell me whether there is any blunder in the term employed—if not, it might stand.—I am, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

Miss Bronte would seem to have corresponded with Mr. George Smith, and not with Mr. Williams, over her third novel, Villette, and that correspondence is to be found in Mrs. Gaskell's biography.

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'February 1st, 1851.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I cannot lose any time in telling you that your letter, after all, gave me heart-felt satisfaction, and such a feeling of relief as it would be difficult to express in words. The fact is, what goads and tortures me is not any anxiety of my own to publish another book, to have my name before the public, to get cash, etc., but a haunting fear that my dilatoriness disappoints others. Now the "others" whose wish on the subject I really care for, reduces itself to my father and Cornhill, and since Cornhill ungrudgingly counsels me to take my own time, I think I can pacify such impatience as my dear father naturally feels. Indeed, your kind and friendly letter will greatly help me.

'Since writing the above, I have read your letter to papa. Your arguments had weight with him: he approves, and I am content. I now only regret the necessity of disappointing the Palladium, but that cannot be helped.—Good-bye, my dear sir, yours very sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'Tuesday Morning.

'DEAR ELLEN,—The rather dark view you seem inclined to take of the general opinion about Villette surprises me the less, dear Nell, as only the more unfavourable reviews seem to have come in your way. Some reports reach me of a different tendency; but no matter, time will shew. As to the character of Lucy Snow, my intention from the first was that she should not occupy the pedestal to which Jane Eyre was raised by some injudicious admirers. She is where I meant her to be, and where no charge of self-laudation can touch her.

'I cannot accept your kind invitation. I must be at home at Easter, on two or three accounts connected with sermons to be preached, parsons to be entertained, Mechanics' Institute meetings and tea-drinkings to be solemnised, and ere long I have promised to go and see Mrs. Gaskell; but till this wintry weather is passed, I would rather eschew visiting anywhere. I trust that bad cold of yours is quite well, and that you will take good care of yourself in future. That night work is always perilous.—Yours faithfully,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO MISS WOOLER

'HAWORTH, April 13th, 1851.

'MY DEAR MISS WOOLER,—Your last kind letter ought to have been answered long since, and would have been, did I find it practicable to proportion the promptitude of the response to the value I place upon my correspondents and their communications. You will easily understand, however, that the contrary rule often holds good, and that the epistle which importunes often takes precedence of that which interests.

'My publishers express entire satisfaction with the reception which has been accorded to Villette, and indeed the majority of the reviews has been favourable enough; you will be aware, however, that there is a minority, small in number but influential in character, which views the work with no favourable eye. Currer Bell's remarks on Romanism have drawn down on him the condign displeasure of the High Church party, which displeasure has been unequivocally expressed through their principal organs—the Guardian, the English Churchman, and the Christian Remembrancer. I can well understand that some of the charges launched against me by those publications will tell heavily to my prejudice in the minds of most readers—but this must be borne; and for my part, I can suffer no accusation to oppress me much which is not supported by the inward evidence of conscience and reason.

'"Extremes meet," says the proverb; in proof whereof I would mention that Miss Martineau finds with Villette nearly the same fault as the Puseyites. She accuses me with attacking popery "with virulence," of going out of my way to assault it "passionately." In other respects she has shown with reference to the work a spirit so strangely and unexpectedly acrimonious, that I have gathered courage to tell her that the gulf of mutual difference between her and me is so wide and deep, the bridge of union so slight and uncertain, I have come to the conclusion that frequent intercourse would be most perilous and unadvisable, and have begged to adjourn sine die my long projected visit to her. Of course she is now very angry, and I know her bitterness will not be short-lived—but it cannot be helped.

'Two or three weeks since I received a long and kind letter from Mr. White, which I answered a short time ago. I believe Mr. White thinks me a much hotter advocate for change and what is called "political progress" than I am. However, in my reply, I did not touch on these subjects. He intimated a wish to publish some of his own MSS. I fear he would hardly like the somewhat dissuasive tendency of my answer; but really, in these days of headlong competition, it is a great risk to publish. If all be well, I purpose going to Manchester next week to spend a few days with Mrs. Gaskell. Ellen's visit to Yarmouth seems for the present given up; and really, all things considered, I think the circumstance is scarcely to be regretted.

'Do you not think, my dear Miss Wooler, that you could come to Haworth before you go to the coast? I am afraid that when you once get settled at the sea-side your stay will not be brief. I must repeat that a visit from you would be anticipated with pleasure, not only by me, but by every inmate of Haworth Parsonage. Papa has given me a general commission to send his respects to you whenever I write—accept them, therefore, and—Believe me, yours affectionately and sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'



CHAPTER XIV: WILLIAM SMITH WILLIAMS

In picturing the circle which surrounded Charlotte Bronte through her brief career, it is of the utmost importance that a word of recognition should be given, and that in no half-hearted manner, to Mr. William Smith Williams, who, in her later years, was Charlotte Bronte's most intimate correspondent. The letters to Mr. Williams are far and away the best that Charlotte wrote, at least of those which have been preserved. They are full of literary enthusiasm and of intellectual interest. They show Charlotte Bronte's sound judgment and good heart more effectually than any other material which has been placed at the disposal of biographers. They are an honour both to writer and receiver, and, in fact, reflect the mind of the one as much as the mind of the other. Charlotte has emphasised the fact that she adapted herself to her correspondents, and in her letters to Mr. Williams we have her at her very best. Mr. Williams occupied for many years the post of 'reader' in the firm of Smith & Elder. That is a position scarcely less honourable and important than authorship itself. In our own days Mr. George Meredith and Mr. John Morley have been 'readers,' and Mr. James Payn has held the same post in the firm which published the Bronte novels.

Mr. Williams, who was born in 1800, and died in 1875, had an interesting career even before he became associated with Smith & Elder. In his younger days he was apprenticed to Taylor & Hessey of Fleet Street; and he used to relate how his boyish ideals of Coleridge were shattered on beholding, for the first time, the bulky and ponderous figure of the great talker. When Keats left England, for an early grave in Rome, it was Mr. Williams who saw him off. Hazlitt, Leigh Hunt, and many other well-known men of letters were friendly with Mr. Williams from his earliest days, and he had for brother-in-law, Wells, the author of Joseph and his Brethren. In his association with Smith & Elder he secured the friendship of Thackeray, of Mrs. Gaskell, and of many other writers. He attracted the notice of Ruskin by a keen enthusiasm for the work of Turner. It was he, in fact, who compiled that most interesting volume of Selections from the writings of John Ruskin, which has long gone out of print in its first form, but is still greatly sought for by the curious. In connection with this volume I may print here a letter written by John Ruskin's father to Mr. Williams, and I do so the more readily, as Mr. Williams's name was withheld from the title-page of the Selections.

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

DENMARK HILL, 25th November, 1861.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I am requested by Mrs. Ruskin to return her very sincere and grateful thanks for your kind consideration in presenting her with so beautifully bound a copy of the Selections from her son's writings; and which she will have great pleasure in seeing by the side of the very magnificent volumes which the liberality of the gentlemen of your house has already enriched our library with.

'Mrs. Ruskin joins me in offering congratulations on the great judgment you have displayed in your Selections, and, sending my own thanks and those of my son for the handsome gift to Mrs. Ruskin,—I am, my dear sir, yours very truly,

'JOHN JAMES RUSKIN.'

What Charlotte Bronte thought of Mr. Williams is sufficiently revealed by the multitude of letters which I have the good fortune to print, and that she had a reason to be grateful to him is obvious when we recollect that to him, and to him alone, was due her first recognition. The parcel containing The Professor had wandered from publisher to publisher before it came into the hands of Mr. Williams. It was he who recognised what all of us recognise now, that in spite of faults it is really a most considerable book. I am inclined to think that it was refused by Smith & Elder rather on account of its insufficient length than for any other cause. At any rate it was the length which was assigned to her as a reason for non-acceptance. She was told that another book, which would make the accredited three volume novel, might receive more favourable consideration.

Charlotte Bronte took Mr. Williams's advice. She wrote Jane Eyre, and despatched it quickly to Smith & Elder's house in Cornhill. It was read by Mr. Williams, and read afterwards by Mr. George Smith; and it was published with the success that we know. Charlotte awoke to find herself famous. She became a regular correspondent with Mr. Williams, and not less than a hundred letters were sent to him, most of them treating of interesting literary matters.

One of Mr. Williams's daughters, I may add, married Mr. Lowes Dickenson the portrait painter; his youngest child, a baby when Miss Bronte was alive, is famous in the musical world as Miss Anna Williams. The family has an abundance of literary and artistic association, but the father we know as the friend and correspondent of Charlotte Bronte. He still lives also in the memory of a large circle as a kindly and attractive—a singularly good and upright man.

Comment upon the following letters is in well-nigh every case superfluous.

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'February 25th 1848.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I thank you for your note; its contents moved me much, though not to unmingled feelings of exultation. Louis Philippe (unhappy and sordid old man!) and M. Guizot doubtless merit the sharp lesson they are now being taught, because they have both proved themselves men of dishonest hearts. And every struggle any nation makes in the cause of Freedom and Truth has something noble in it—something that makes me wish it success; but I cannot believe that France—or at least Paris—will ever be the battle-ground of true Liberty, or the scene of its real triumphs. I fear she does not know "how genuine glory is put on." Is that strength to be found in her which will not bend "but in magnanimous meekness"? Have not her "unceasing changes" as yet always brought "perpetual emptiness"? Has Paris the materials within her for thorough reform? Mean, dishonest Guizot being discarded, will any better successor be found for him than brilliant, unprincipled Thiers?

'But I damp your enthusiasm, which I would not wish to do, for true enthusiasm is a fine feeling whose flash I admire wherever I see it.

'The little note inclosed in yours is from a French lady, who asks my consent to the translation of Jane Eyre into the French language. I thought it better to consult you before I replied. I suppose she is competent to produce a decent translation, though one or two errors of orthography in her note rather afflict the eye; but I know that it is not unusual for what are considered well-educated French women to fail in the point of writing their mother tongue correctly. But whether competent or not, I presume she has a right to translate the book with or without my consent. She gives her address: Mdlle B—- {373} W. Cumming, Esq., 23 North Bank, Regent's Park.

'Shall I reply to her note in the affirmative?

'Waiting your opinion and answer,—I remain, dear sir, yours faithfully,

'C. BELL.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'February 28th, 1848.

'DEAR SIR,—I have done as you advised me respecting Mdlle B—-, thanked her for her courtesy, and explained that I do not wish my consent to be regarded in the light of a formal sanction of the translation.

'From the papers of Saturday I had learnt the abdication of Louis Philippe, the flight of the royal family, and the proclamation of a republic in France. Rapid movements these, and some of them difficult of comprehension to a remote spectator. What sort of spell has withered Louis Philippe's strength? Why, after having so long infatuatedly clung to Guizot, did he at once ignobly relinquish him? Was it panic that made him so suddenly quit his throne and abandon his adherents without a struggle to retain one or aid the other?

'Perhaps it might have been partly fear, but I daresay it was still more long-gathering weariness of the dangers and toils of royalty. Few will pity the old monarch in his flight, yet I own he seems to me an object of pity. His sister's death shook him; years are heavy on him; the sword of Damocles has long been hanging over his head. One cannot forget that monarchs and ministers are only human, and have only human energies to sustain them; and often they are sore beset. Party spirit has no mercy; indignant Freedom seldom shows forbearance in her hour of revolt. I wish you could see the aged gentleman trudging down Cornhill with his umbrella and carpet-bag, in good earnest; he would be safe in England: John Bull might laugh at him but he would do him no harm.

'How strange it appears to see literary and scientific names figuring in the list of members of a Provisional Government! How would it sound if Carlyle and Sir John Herschel and Tennyson and Mr. Thackeray and Douglas Jerrold were selected to manufacture a new constitution for England? Whether do such men sway the public mind most effectually from their quiet studies or from a council-chamber?

'And Thiers is set aside for a time; but won't they be glad of him by-and-by? Can they set aside entirely anything so clever, so subtle, so accomplished, so aspiring—in a word, so thoroughly French, as he is? Is he not the man to bide his time—to watch while unskilful theorists try their hand at administration and fail; and then to step out and show them how it should be done?

'One would have thought political disturbance the natural element of a mind like Thiers'; but I know nothing of him except from his writings, and I always think he writes as if the shade of Bonaparte were walking to and fro in the room behind him and dictating every line he pens, sometimes approaching and bending over his shoulder, pour voir de ses yeux that such an action or event is represented or misrepresented (as the case may be) exactly as he wishes it. Thiers seems to have contemplated Napoleon's character till he has imbibed some of its nature. Surely he must be an ambitious man, and, if so, surely he will at this juncture struggle to rise.

'You should not apologise for what you call your "crudities." You know I like to hear your opinions and views on whatever subject it interests you to discuss.

'From the little inscription outside your note I conclude you sent me the Examiner. I thank you therefore for your kind intention and am sorry some unscrupulous person at the Post Office frustrated it, as no paper has reached my hands. I suppose one ought to be thankful that letters are respected, as newspapers are by no means sure of safe conveyance.—I remain, dear sir, yours sincerely,

'C. BELL.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'May 12th, 1848.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I take a large sheet of paper, because I foresee that I am about to write another long letter, and for the same reason as before, viz., that yours interested me.

'I have received the Morning Chronicle, and was both surprised and pleased to see the passage you speak of in one of its leading articles. An allusion of that sort seems to say more than a regular notice. I do trust I may have the power so to write in future as not to disappoint those who have been kind enough to think and speak well of Jane Eyre; at any rate, I will take pains. But still, whenever I hear my one book praised, the pleasure I feel is chastened by a mixture of doubt and fear; and, in truth, I hardly wish it to be otherwise: it is much too early for me to feel safe, or to take as my due the commendation bestowed.

'Some remarks in your last letter on teaching commanded my attention. I suppose you never were engaged in tuition yourself; but if you had been, you could not have more exactly hit on the great qualification—I had almost said the one great qualification—necessary to the task: the faculty, not merely of acquiring but of imparting knowledge—the power of influencing young minds—that natural fondness for, that innate sympathy with, children, which, you say, Mrs. Williams is so happy as to possess. He or she who possesses this faculty, this sympathy—though perhaps not otherwise highly accomplished—need never fear failure in the career of instruction. Children will be docile with them, will improve under them; parents will consequently repose in them confidence. Their task will be comparatively light, their path comparatively smooth. If the faculty be absent, the life of a teacher will be a struggle from beginning to end. No matter how amiable the disposition, how strong the sense of duty, how active the desire to please; no matter how brilliant and varied the accomplishments; if the governess has not the power to win her young charge, the secret to instil gently and surely her own knowledge into the growing mind intrusted to her, she will have a wearing, wasting existence of it. To educate a child, as I daresay Mrs. Williams has educated her children, probably with as much pleasure to herself as profit to them, will indeed be impossible to the teacher who lacks this qualification. But, I conceive, should circumstances—as in the case of your daughters—compel a young girl notwithstanding to adopt a governess's profession, she may contrive to instruct and even to instruct well. That is, though she cannot form the child's mind, mould its character, influence its disposition, and guide its conduct as she would wish, she may give lessons—even good, clear, clever lessons in the various branches of knowledge. She may earn and doubly earn her scanty salary as a daily governess. As a school-teacher she may succeed; but as a resident governess she will never (except under peculiar and exceptional circumstances) be happy. Her deficiency will harass her not so much in school-time as in play-hours; the moments that would be rest and recreation to the governess who understood and could adapt herself to children, will be almost torture to her who has not that power. Many a time, when her charge turns unruly on her hands, when the responsibility which she would wish to discharge faithfully and perfectly, becomes unmanageable to her, she will wish herself a housemaid or kitchen girl, rather than a baited, trampled, desolate, distracted governess.

'The Governesses' Institution may be an excellent thing in some points of view, but it is both absurd and cruel to attempt to raise still higher the standard of acquirements. Already governesses are not half nor a quarter paid for what they teach, nor in most instances is half or a quarter of their attainments required by their pupils. The young teacher's chief anxiety, when she sets out in life, always is to know a great deal; her chief fear that she should not know enough. Brief experience will, in most instances, show her that this anxiety has been misdirected. She will rarely be found too ignorant for her pupils; the demand on her knowledge will not often be larger than she can answer. But on her patience—on her self-control, the requirement will be enormous; on her animal spirits (and woe be to her if these fail!) the pressure will be immense.

'I have seen an ignorant nursery-maid who could scarcely read or write, by dint of an excellent, serviceable, sanguine, phlegmatic temperament, which made her at once cheerful and unmoveable; of a robust constitution and steady, unimpassionable nerves, which kept her firm under shocks and unharassed under annoyances—manage with comparative ease a large family of spoilt children, while their governess lived amongst them a life of inexpressible misery: tyrannised over, finding her efforts to please and teach utterly vain, chagrined, distressed, worried—so badgered, so trodden on, that she ceased almost at last to know herself, and wondered in what despicable, trembling frame her oppressed mind was prisoned, and could not realise the idea of ever more being treated with respect and regarded with affection—till she finally resigned her situation and went away quite broken in spirit and reduced to the verge of decline in health.

'Those who would urge on governesses more acquirements, do not know the origin of their chief sufferings. It is more physical and mental strength, denser moral impassibility that they require, rather than additional skill in arts or sciences. As to the forcing system, whether applied to teachers or taught, I hold it to be a cruel system.

'It is true the world demands a brilliant list of accomplishments. For 20 pounds per annum, it expects in one woman the attainments of several professors—but the demand is insensate, and I think should rather be resisted than complied with. If I might plead with you in behalf of your daughters, I should say, "Do not let them waste their young lives in trying to attain manifold accomplishments. Let them try rather to possess thoroughly, fully, one or two talents; then let them endeavour to lay in a stock of health, strength, cheerfulness. Let them labour to attain self-control, endurance, fortitude, firmness; if possible, let them learn from their mother something of the precious art she possesses—these things, together with sound principles, will be their best supports, their best aids through a governess's life.

'As for that one who, you say, has a nervous horror of exhibition, I need not beg you to be gentle with her; I am sure you will not be harsh, but she must be firm with herself, or she will repent it in after life. She should begin by degrees to endeavour to overcome her diffidence. Were she destined to enjoy an independent, easy existence, she might respect her natural disposition to seek retirement, and even cherish it as a shade-loving virtue; but since that is not her lot, since she is fated to make her way in the crowd, and to depend on herself, she should say: I will try and learn the art of self-possession, not that I may display my accomplishments, but that I may have the satisfaction of feeling that I am my own mistress, and can move and speak undaunted by the fear of man. While, however, I pen this piece of advice, I confess that it is much easier to give than to follow. What the sensations of the nervous are under the gaze of publicity none but the nervous know; and how powerless reason and resolution are to control them would sound incredible except to the actual sufferers.

'The rumours you mention respecting the authorship of Jane Eyre amused me inexpressibly. The gossips are, on this subject, just where I should wish them to be, i.e., as far from the truth as possible; and as they have not a grain of fact to found their fictions upon, they fabricate pure inventions. Judge Erle must, I think, have made up his story expressly for a hoax; the other fib is amazing—so circumstantial! called on the author, forsooth! Where did he live, I wonder? In what purlieu of Cockayne? Here I must stop, lest if I run on further I should fill another sheet.—Believe me, yours sincerely,

'CURRER BELL.

'P.S.—I must, after all, add a morsel of paper, for I find, on glancing over yours, that I have forgotten to answer a question you ask respecting my next work. I have not therein so far treated of governesses, as I do not wish it to resemble its predecessor. I often wish to say something about the "condition of women" question, but it is one respecting which so much "cant" has been talked, that one feels a sort of repugnance to approach it. It is true enough that the present market for female labour is quite overstocked, but where or how could another be opened? Many say that the professions now filled only by men should be open to women also; but are not their present occupants and candidates more than numerous enough to answer every demand? Is there any room for female lawyers, female doctors, female engravers, for more female artists, more authoresses? One can see where the evil lies, but who can point out the remedy? When a woman has a little family to rear and educate and a household to conduct, her hands are full, her vocation is evident; when her destiny isolates her, I suppose she must do what she can, live as she can, complain as little, bear as much, work as well as possible. This is not high theory, but I believe it is sound practice, good to put into execution while philosophers and legislators ponder over the better ordering of the social system. At the same time, I conceive that when patience has done its utmost and industry its best, whether in the case of women or operatives, and when both are baffled, and pain and want triumph, the sufferer is free, is entitled, at last to send up to Heaven any piercing cry for relief, if by that cry he can hope to obtain succour.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'June 2, 1848.

'MY DEAR SIR,—I snatch a moment to write a hasty line to you, for it makes me uneasy to think that your last kind letter should have remained so long unanswered. A succession of little engagements, much more importunate than important, have quite engrossed my time lately, to the exclusion of more momentous and interesting occupations. Interruption is a sad bore, and I believe there is hardly a spot on earth, certainly not in England, quite secure from its intrusion. The fact is, you cannot live in this world entirely for one aim; you must take along with some single serious purpose a hundred little minor duties, cares, distractions; in short, you must take life as it is, and make the best of it. Summer is decidedly a bad season for application, especially in the country; for the sunshine seems to set all your acquaintances astir, and, once bent on amusement, they will come to the ends of the earth in search thereof. I was obliged to you for your suggestion about writing a letter to the Morning Chronicle, but I did not follow it up. I think I would rather not venture on such a step at present. Opinions I would not hesitate to express to you—because you are indulgent—are not mature or cool enough for the public; Currer Bell is not Carlyle, and must not imitate him.

'Whenever you can write to me without encroaching too much on your valuable time, remember I shall always be glad to hear from you. Your last letter interested me fully as much as its two predecessors; what you said about your family pleased me; I think details of character always have a charm even when they relate to people we have never seen, nor expect to see. With eight children you must have a busy life; but, from the manner in which you allude to your two eldest daughters, it is evident that they at least are a source of satisfaction to their parents; I hope this will be the case with the whole number, and then you will never feel as if you had too many. A dozen children with sense and good conduct may be less burdensome than one who lacks these qualities. It seems a long time since I heard from you. I shall be glad to hear from you again.—Believe me, yours sincerely,

'C. BELL.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'HAWORTH, June 15th, 1848.

'MY DEAR SIR,—Thank you for your two last letters. In reading the first I quite realised your May holiday; I enjoyed it with you. I saw the pretty south-of-England village, so different from our northern congregations of smoke-dark houses clustered round their soot-vomiting mills. I saw in your description, fertile, flowery Essex—a contrast indeed to the rough and rude, the mute and sombre yet well-beloved moors over-spreading this corner of Yorkshire. I saw the white schoolhouse, the venerable school-master—I even thought I saw you and your daughters; and in your second letter I see you all distinctly, for, in describing your children, you unconsciously describe yourself.

'I may well say that your letters are of value to me, for I seldom receive one but I find something in it which makes me reflect, and reflect on new themes. Your town life is somewhat different from any I have known, and your allusions to its advantages, troubles, pleasures, and struggles are often full of significance to me.

'I have always been accustomed to think that the necessity of earning one's subsistence is not in itself an evil, but I feel it may become a heavy evil if health fails, if employment lacks, if the demand upon our efforts made by the weakness of others dependent upon us becomes greater than our strength suffices to answer. In such a case I can imagine that the married man may wish himself single again, and that the married woman, when she sees her husband over-exerting himself to maintain her and her children, may almost wish—out of the very force of her affection for him—that it had never been her lot to add to the weight of his responsibilities. Most desirable then is it that all, both men and women, should have the power and the will to work for themselves—most advisable that both sons and daughters should early be inured to habits of independence and industry. Birds teach their nestlings to fly as soon as their wings are strong enough, they even oblige them to quit the nest if they seem too unwilling to trust their pinions of their own accord. Do not the swallow and the starling thus give a lesson by which man might profit?

'It seems to me that your kind heart is pained by the thought of what your daughter may suffer if transplanted from a free and indulged home existence to a life of constraint and labour amongst strangers. Suffer she probably will; but take both comfort and courage, my dear sir, try to soothe your anxiety by this thought, which is not a fallacious one. Hers will not be a barren suffering; she will gain by it largely; she will "sow in tears to reap in joy." A governess's experience is frequently indeed bitter, but its results are precious: the mind, feeling, temper are there subjected to a discipline equally painful and priceless. I have known many who were unhappy as governesses, but not one who regretted having undergone the ordeal, and scarcely one whose character was not improved—at once strengthened and purified, fortified and softened, made more enduring for her own afflictions, more considerate for the afflictions of others, by passing through it.