Book: The Life of Charlotte Bronte

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MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER, AND CO.

"Nov. 13th, 1847.

"Gentlemen,--I have to acknowledge the receipt of yours of the
11th inst., and to thank you for the information it communicates.
The notice from the People's Journal also duly reached me, and
this morning I received the Spectator. The critique in the
Spectator gives that view of the book which will naturally be
taken by a certain class of minds; I shall expect it to be
followed by other notices of a similar nature. The way to
detraction has been pointed out, and will probably be pursued.
Most future notices will in all likelihood have a reflection of
the Spectator in them. I fear this turn of opinion will not
improve the demand for the book--but time will show. If "Jane
Eyre" has any solid worth in it, it ought to weather a gust of
unfavourable wind.--I am, Gentlemen, yours respectfully,

"C. BELL."

MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER, AND CO.

"Nov. 30th, 1847.

"Gentlemen,--I have received the Economist, but not the Examiner;
from some cause that paper has missed, as the Spectator did on a
former occasion; I am glad, however, to learn through your
letter, that its notice of "Jane Eyre" was favourable, and also
that the prospects of the work appear to improve.

"I am obliged to you for the information respecting "Wuthering
Heights".--I am, Gentlemen, yours respectfully,

"C. BELL."

To MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER, AND CO.

"Dec. 1st, 1847.

"Gentlemen,--The Examiner reached me to-day; it had been missent
on account of the direction, which was to Currer Bell, care of
Miss Bronte. Allow me to intimate that it would be better in
future not to put the name of Currer Bell on the outside of
communications; if directed simply to Miss Bronte they will be
more likely to reach their destination safely. Currer Bell is not
known in the district, and I have no wish that he should become
known. The notice in the Examiner gratified me very much; it
appears to be from the pen of an able man who has understood what
he undertakes to criticise; of course, approbation from such a
quarter is encouraging to an author, and I trust it will prove
beneficial to the work.--I am, Gentlemen, yours respectfully,

C. BELL.

"I received likewise seven other notices from provincial papers
enclosed in an envelope. I thank you very sincerely for so
punctually sending me all the various criticisms on "Jane Eyre"."

TO MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER, AND CO.

"Dec. 10th, 1847.

"Gentlemen,--I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your letter
inclosing a bank post bill, for which I thank you. Having already
expressed my sense of your kind and upright conduct, I can now
only say that I trust you will always have reason to be as well
content with me as I am with you. If the result of any future
exertions I may be able to make should prove agreeable and
advantageous to you, I shall be well satisfied; and it would be a
serious source of regret to me if I thought you ever had reason
to repent being my publishers.

"You need not apologise, Gentlemen, for having written to me so
seldom; of course I am always glad to hear from you, but I am
truly glad to hear from Mr. Williams likewise; he was my first
favourable critic; he first gave me encouragement to persevere as
an author, consequently I naturally respect him and feel grateful
to him.

"Excuse the informality of my letter, and believe me, Gentlemen,
yours respectfully,

CURRER BELL."

There is little record remaining of the manner in which the first
news of its wonderful success reached and affected the one heart
of the three sisters. I once asked Charlotte--we were talking
about the description of Lowood school, and she was saying that
she was not sure whether she should have written it, if she had
been aware how instantaneously it would have been identified with
Cowan Bridge--whether the popularity to which the novel attained
had taken her by surprise. She hesitated a little, and then said:
"I believed that what had impressed me so forcibly when I wrote
it, must make a strong impression on any one who read it. I was
not surprised at those who read "Jane Eyre" being deeply
interested in it; but I hardly expected that a book by an unknown
author could find readers."

The sisters had kept the knowledge of their literary ventures
from their father, fearing to increase their own anxieties and
disappointment by witnessing his; for he took an acute interest
in all that befell his children, and his own tendency had been
towards literature in the days when he was young and hopeful. It
was true he did not much manifest his feelings in words; he would
have thought that he was prepared for disappointment as the lot
of man, and that he could have met it with stoicism; but words
are poor and tardy interpreters of feelings to those who love one
another, and his daughters knew how he would have borne
ill-success worse for them than for himself. So they did not tell
him what they were undertaking. He says now that he suspected it
all along, but his suspicions could take no exact form, as all he
was certain of was, that his children were perpetually
writing--and not writing letters. We have seen how the
communications from their publishers were received "under cover
to Miss Bronte." Once, Charlotte told me, they overheard the
postman meeting Mr. Bronte, as the latter was leaving the house,
and inquiring from the parson where one Currer Bell could be
living, to which Mr. Bronte replied that there was no such person
in the parish. This must have been the misadventure to which Miss
Bronte alludes in the beginning of her correspondence with Mr.
Aylott.

Now, however, when the demand for the work had assured success to
"Jane Eyre," her sisters urged Charlotte to tell their father of
its publication. She accordingly went into his study one
afternoon after his early dinner, carrying with her a copy of the
book, and one or two reviews, taking care to include a notice
adverse to it.

She informed me that something like the following conversation
took place between her and him. (I wrote down her words the day
after I heard them; and I am pretty sure they are quite
accurate.)

"Papa, I've been writing a book."

"Have you, my dear?"

"Yes, and I want you to read it."

"I am afraid it will try my eyes too much."

"But it is not in manuscript: it is printed."

"My dear! you've never thought of the expense it will be! It will
be almost sure to be a loss, for how can you get a book sold? No
one knows you or your name."

"But, papa, I don't think it will be a loss; no more will you, if
you will just let me read you a review or two, and tell you more
about it."

So she sate down and read some of the reviews to her father; and
then, giving him the copy of "Jane Eyre" that she intended for
him, she left him to read it. When he came in to tea, he said,
"Girls, do you know Charlotte has been writing a book, and it is
much better than likely?"

But while the existence of Currer Bell, the author, was like a
piece of a dream to the quiet inhabitants of Haworth Parsonage,
who went on with their uniform household life,--their cares for
their brother being its only variety,--the whole reading-world of
England was in a ferment to discover the unknown author. Even the
publishers of "Jane Eyre" were ignorant whether Currer Bell was a
real or an assumed name,--whether it belonged to a man or a
woman. In every town people sought out the list of their friends
and acquaintances, and turned away in disappointment. No one they
knew had genius enough to be the author. Every little incident
mentioned in the book was turned this way and that to answer, if
possible, the much-vexed question of sex. All in vain. People
were content to relax their exertions to satisfy their curiosity,
and simply to sit down and greatly admire.

I am not going to write an analysis of a book with which every
one who reads this biography is sure to be acquainted; much less
a criticism upon a work, which the great flood of public opinion
has lifted up from the obscurity in which it first appeared, and
laid high and safe on the everlasting hills of fame.

Before me lies a packet of extracts from newspapers and
periodicals, which Mr. Bronte has sent me. It is touching to look
them over, and see how there is hardly any notice, however short
and clumsily-worded, in any obscure provincial paper, but what
has been cut out and carefully ticketed with its date by the
poor, bereaved father,--so proud when he first read them--so
desolate now. For one and all are full of praise of this great,
unknown genius, which suddenly appeared amongst us. Conjecture as
to the authorship ran about like wild-fire. People in London,
smooth and polished as the Athenians of old, and like them
"spending their time in nothing else, but either to tell or to
hear some new thing," were astonished and delighted to find that
a fresh sensation, a new pleasure, was in reserve for them in the
uprising of an author, capable of depicting with accurate and
Titanic power the strong, self-reliant, racy, and individual
characters which were not, after all, extinct species, but
lingered still in existence in the North. They thought that there
was some exaggeration mixed with the peculiar force of
delineation. Those nearer to the spot, where the scene of the
story was apparently laid, were sure, from the very truth and
accuracy of the writing, that the writer was no Southeron; for
though "dark, and cold, and rugged is the North," the old
strength of the Scandinavian races yet abides there, and glowed
out in every character depicted in "Jane Eyre." Farther than
this, curiosity, both honourable and dishonourable, was at fault.

When the second edition appeared, in the January of the following
year, with the dedication to Mr. Thackeray, people looked at each
other and wondered afresh. But Currer Bell knew no more of
William Makepeace Thackeray as an individual man--of his life,
age, fortunes, or circumstances--than she did of those of Mr.
Michael Angelo Titmarsh. The one had placed his name as author
upon the title-page of Vanity Fair, the other had not. She was
thankful for the opportunity of expressing her high admiration of
a writer, whom, as she says, she regarded "as the social
regenerator of his day--as the very master of that working corps
who would restore to rectitude the warped state of things. . . .
His wit is bright, his humour attractive, but both bear the same
relation to his serious genius, that the mere lambent
sheet-lightning, playing under the edge of the summer cloud, does
to the electric death-spark hid in its womb."

Anne Bronte had been more than usually delicate all the summer,
and her sensitive spirit had been deeply affected by the great
anxiety of her home. But now that "Jane Eyre" gave such
indications of success, Charlotte began to plan schemes of future
pleasure,--perhaps relaxation from care, would be the more
correct expression,--for their darling younger sister, the
"little one" of the household. But, although Anne was cheered for
a time by Charlotte's success, the fact was, that neither her
spirits nor her bodily strength were such as to incline her to
much active exertion, and she led far too sedentary a life,
continually stooping either over her book, or work, or at her
desk. "It is with difficulty," writes her sister, "that we can
prevail upon her to take a walk, or induce her to converse. I
look forward to next summer with the confident intention that she
shall, if possible, make at least a brief sojourn at the
sea-side." In this same letter, is a sentence, telling how dearly
home, even with its present terrible drawback, lay at the roots
of her heart; but it is too much blended with reference to the
affairs of others to bear quotation.

Any author of a successful novel is liable to an inroad of
letters from unknown readers, containing commendation--sometimes
of so fulsome and indiscriminating a character as to remind the
recipient of Dr. Johnson's famous speech to one who offered
presumptuous and injudicious praise--sometimes saying merely a
few words, which have power to stir the heart "as with the sound
of a trumpet," and in the high humility they excite, to call
forth strong resolutions to make all future efforts worthy of
such praise; and occasionally containing that true appreciation
of both merits and demerits, together with the sources of each,
which forms the very criticism and help for which an
inexperienced writer thirsts. Of each of these kinds of
communication Currer Bell received her full share; and her warm
heart, and true sense and high standard of what she aimed at,
affixed to each its true value. Among other letters of hers, some
to Mr. G. H. Lewes have been kindly placed by him at my service;
and as I know Miss Bronte highly prized his letters of
encouragement and advice, I shall give extracts from her replies,
as their dates occur, because they will indicate the kind of
criticism she valued, and also because throughout, in anger, as
in agreement and harmony, they show her character unblinded by
any self-flattery, full of clear-sighted modesty as to what she
really did well, and what she failed in, grateful for friendly
interest, and only sore and irritable when the question of sex in
authorship was, as she thought, roughly or unfairly treated. As
to the rest, the letters speak for themselves, to those who know
how to listen, far better than I can interpret their meaning into
my poorer and weaker words. Mr. Lewes has politely sent me the
following explanation of that letter of his, to which the
succeeding one of Miss Bronte is a reply.

"When 'Jane Eyre' first appeared, the publishers courteously sent
me a copy. The enthusiasm with which I read it, made me go down
to Mr. Parker, and propose to write a review of it for Frazer's
Magazine. He would not consent to an unknown novel--for the
papers had not yet declared themselves--receiving such
importance, but thought it might make one on 'Recent Novels:
English and French'--which appeared in Frazer, December, 1847.
Meanwhile I had written to Miss Bronte to tell her the delight
with which her book filled me; and seem to have sermonised her,
to judge from her reply."

To G. H. LEWES, ESQ.

"Nov. 6th, 1847.

"Dear Sir,--Your letter reached me yesterday; I beg to assure
you, that I appreciate fully the intention with which it was
written, and I thank you sincerely both for its cheering
commendation and valuable advice.

"You warn me to beware of melodrama, and you exhort me to adhere
to the real. When I first began to write, so impressed was I with
the truth of the principles you advocate, that I determined to
take Nature and Truth as my sole guides, and to follow in their
very footprints; I restrained imagination, eschewed romance,
repressed excitement; over-bright colouring, too, I avoided, and
sought to produce something which should be soft, grave, and
true.

"My work (a tale in one volume) being completed, I offered it to
a publisher. He said it was original, faithful to nature, but he
did not feel warranted in accepting it; such a work would not
sell. I tried six publishers in succession; they all told me it
was deficient in 'startling incident' and 'thrilling excitement,'
that it would never suit the circulating libraries, and, as it
was on those libraries the success of works of fiction mainly
depended, they could not undertake to publish what would be
overlooked there.

"'Jane Eyre' was rather objected to at first, on the same
grounds, but finally found acceptance.

"I mention this to you, not with a view of pleading exemption
from censure, but in order to direct your attention to the root
of certain literary evils. If, in your forthcoming article in
Frazer, you would bestow a few words of enlightenment on the
public who support the circulating libraries, you might, with
your powers, do some good.

"You advise me, too, not to stray far from the ground of
experience, as I become weak when I enter the region of fiction;
and you say, 'real experience is perennially interesting, and to
all men.'

"I feel that this also is true; but, dear Sir, is not the real
experience of each individual very limited? And, if a writer
dwells upon that solely or principally, is he not in danger of
repeating himself, and also of becoming an egotist? Then, too,
imagination is a strong, restless faculty, which claims to be
heard and exercised: are we to be quite deaf to her cry, and
insensate to her struggles? When she shows us bright pictures,
are we never to look at them, and try to reproduce them? And when
she is eloquent, and speaks rapidly and urgently in our ear, are
we not to write to her dictation?

"I shall anxiously search the next number of Fraser for your
opinions on these points.--Believe me, dear Sir, yours
gratefully,

"C. BELL."

But while gratified by appreciation as an author, she was
cautious as to the person from whom she received it; for much of
the value of the praise depended on the sincerity and capability
of the person rendering it. Accordingly, she applied to Mr.
Williams (a gentleman connected with her publishers' firm) for
information as to who and what Mr. Lewes was. Her reply, after
she had learnt something of the character of her future critic,
and while awaiting his criticism, must not be omitted. Besides
the reference to him, it contains some amusing allusions to the
perplexity which began to be excited respecting the "identity of
the brothers Bell," and some notice of the conduct of another
publisher towards her sister, which I refrain from
characterising, because I understand that truth is considered a
libel in speaking of such people.

To W. S. WILLIAMS, ESQ.

"Nov. 10th, 1847.

"Dear Sir,--I have received the Britannia and the Sun, but not
the Spectator which I rather regret, as censure, though not
pleasant, is often wholesome.

"Thank you for your information regarding Mr. Lewes. I am glad to
hear that he is a clever and sincere man: such being the case, I
can await his critical sentence with fortitude; even if it goes
against me, I shall not murmur; ability and honesty have a right
to condemn, where they think condemnation is deserved. From what
you say, however, I trust rather to obtain at least a modified
approval.

"Your account of the various surmises respecting the identity of
the brothers Bell, amused me much: were the enigma solved, it
would probably be found not worth the trouble of solution; but I
will let it alone; it suits ourselves to remain quiet, and
certainly injures no one else.

"The reviewer who noticed the little book of poems, in the Dublin
Magazine, conjectured that the soi-disant three personages were
in reality but one, who, endowed with an unduly prominent organ
of self-esteem, and consequently impressed with a somewhat
weighty notion of his own merits, thought them too vast to be
concentrated in a single individual, and accordingly divided
himself into three, out of consideration, I suppose, for the
nerves of the much-to-be-astounded public! This was an ingenious
thought in the reviewer,--very original and striking, but not
accurate. We are three.

"A prose work, by Ellis and Acton, will soon appear: it should
have been out, indeed, long since; for the first proof-sheets
were already in the press at the commencement of last August,
before Currer Bell had placed the MS. of "Jane Eyre" in your
hands. Mr.----, however, does not do business like Messrs. Smith
and Elder; a different spirit seems to preside at ---- Street, to
that which guides the helm at 65, Cornhill. . . . My relations
have suffered from exhausting delay and procrastination, while I
have to acknowledge the benefits of a management at once
business-like and gentleman-like, energetic and considerate.

"I should like to know if Mr. ---- often acts as he has done to
my relations, or whether this is an exceptional instance of his
method. Do you know, and can you tell me anything about him? You
must excuse me for going to the point at once, when I want to
learn anything: if my questions are importunate, you are, of
course, at liberty to decline answering them.--I am, yours
respectfully,

C. BELL."

To G. H. LEWES, ESQ.

"Nov. 22nd, 1847.

"Dear Sir,--I have now read 'Ranthorpe.' I could not get it till
a day or two ago; but I have got it and read it at last; and in
reading 'Ranthorpe,' I have read a new book,--not a reprint--not
a reflection of any other book, but a NEW BOOK.

"I did not know such books were written now. It is very different
to any of the popular works of fiction: it fills the mind with
fresh knowledge. Your experience and your convictions are made
the reader's; and to an author, at least, they have a value and
an interest quite unusual. I await your criticism on 'Jane Eyre'
now with other sentiments than I entertained before the perusal
of 'Ranthorpe.'

"You were a stranger to me. I did not particularly respect you. I
did not feel that your praise or blame would have any special
weight. I knew little of your right to condemn or approve. NOW I
am informed on these points.

"You will be severe; your last letter taught me as much. Well! I
shall try to extract good out of your severity: and besides,
though I am now sure you are a just, discriminating man, yet,
being mortal, you must be fallible; and if any part of your
censure galls me too keenly to the quick--gives me deadly pain--I
shall for the present disbelieve it, and put it quite aside, till
such time as I feel able to receive it without torture.--I am,
dear Sir, yours very respectfully,

C. BELL."

In December, 1847, "Wuthering Heights" and "Agnes Grey" appeared.
The first-named of these stories has revolted many readers by the
power with which wicked and exceptional characters are depicted.
Others, again, have felt the attraction of remarkable genius,
even when displayed on grim and terrible criminals. Miss Bronte
herself says, with regard to this tale, "Where delineation of
human character is concerned, the case is different. I am bound
to avow that she had scarcely more practical knowledge of the
peasantry amongst whom she lived, than a nun has of the
country-people that pass her convent gates. My sister's
disposition was not naturally gregarious: circumstances favoured
and fostered her tendency to seclusion; except to go to church,
or take a walk on the hills, she rarely crossed the threshold of
home. Though the feeling for the people around her was
benevolent, intercourse with them she never sought, nor, with
very few exceptions, ever experienced and yet she knew them, knew
their ways, their language, and their family histories; she could
hear of them with interest, and talk of them with detail minute,
graphic, and accurate; but WITH them she rarely exchanged a word.
Hence it ensued, that what her mind has gathered of the real
concerning them, was too exclusively confined to those tragic and
terrible traits, of which, in listening to the secret annals of
every rude vicinage, the memory is sometimes compelled to receive
the impress. Her imagination, which was a spirit more sombre than
sunny--more powerful than sportive--found in such traits material
whence it wrought creations like Heathcliff, like Earnshaw, like
Catherine. Having formed these beings, she did not know what she
had done. If the auditor of her work, when read in manuscript,
shuddered under the grinding influence of natures so relentless
and implacable--of spirits so lost and fallen; if it was
complained that the mere hearing of certain vivid and fearful
scenes banished sleep by night, and disturbed mental peace by
day, Ellis Bell would wonder what was meant, and suspect the
complainant of affectation. Had she but lived, her mind would of
itself have grown like a strong tree--loftier, straighter,
wider-spreading--and its matured fruits would have attained a
mellower ripeness and sunnier bloom; but on that mind time and
experience alone could work; to the influence of other intellects
she was not amenable."

Whether justly or unjustly, the productions of the two younger
Miss Brontes were not received with much favour at the time of
their publication. "Critics failed to do them justice. The
immature, but very real, powers revealed in 'Wuthering Heights,'
were scarcely recognised; its import and nature were
misunderstood; the identity of its author was misrepresented: it
was said that this was an earlier and ruder attempt of the same
pen which had produced 'Jane Eyre.'" . . . "Unjust and grievous
error! We laughed at it at first, but I deeply lament it now."

Henceforward Charlotte Bronte's existence becomes divided into
two parallel currents--her life as Currer Bell, the author; her
life as Charlotte Bronte, the woman. There were separate duties
belonging to each character--not opposing each other; not
impossible, but difficult to be reconciled. When a man becomes an
author, it is probably merely a change of employment to him. He
takes a portion of that time which has hitherto been devoted to
some other study or pursuit; he gives up something of the legal
or medical profession, in which he has hitherto endeavoured to
serve others, or relinquishes part of the trade or business by
which he has been striving to gain a livelihood; and another
merchant or lawyer, or doctor, steps into his vacant place, and
probably does as well as he. But no other can take up the quiet,
regular duties of the daughter, the wife, or the mother, as well
as she whom God has appointed to fill that particular place: a
woman's principal work in life is hardly left to her own choice;
nor can she drop the domestic charges devolving on her as an
individual, for the exercise of the most splendid talents that
were ever bestowed. And yet she must not shrink from the extra
responsibility implied by the very fact of her possessing such
talents. She must not hide her gift in a napkin; it was meant for
the use and service of others. In an humble and faithful spirit
must she labour to do what is not impossible, or God would not
have set her to do it.

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