Brontës (111 page)

In sharp contrast to the newly dynamic Smith, Elder & Co., Thomas Cautley Newby was a sole operator who had set himself up as a publisher in Mortimer Street off Cavendish Square in 1820. Though he ran a varied list, ranging from novels to travel books and manuals, he had published nothing of any note over the years;
Wuthering Heights, Agnes Grey, The Tenant ofWildfell Hall
and Anthony Trollope's first novel,
The Macdermots of Ballycloran
, were his only claims to fame in later years.
⁹⁹
In view of his poor treatment of Emily and Anne, it is worth comparing their experience with that, in exactly the same year, of Anthony Trollope, whose mother, one of the most popular novelists of the day, secured the best deal she could on his behalf: Newby was to print the book at his own expense and give its author half its profits. ‘Many a young author expects much from such an undertaking', Trollope later wrote in his autobiography,

I can with truth declare that I expected nothing. And I got nothing … I was sure that the book would fail, and it did fail most absolutely … I have Mr Newby's agreement with me, in duplicate, and one or two preliminary notes; but beyond
that I did not have a word from Mr Newby. I am sure that he did not wrong me in that he paid me nothing. It is probable that he did not sell fifty copies of the work; – but of what he did sell he gave me no account.
¹⁰⁰

Despite his low expectations, Trollope nevertheless felt that he had been ill served by Newby and, the following year, he took his next book elsewhere.
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Charlotte's complaints about Newby's dilatory behaviour led William Smith Williams to offer to take over the publication of
Wuthering Heights
and
Agnes Grey
, but Emily and Anne were obstinate in their determination to go their own way. By the middle of November they had received the final proof-sheets, so publication at last seemed imminent.
¹⁰²
Though Emily and Anne's desire to achieve success independently of their sister was laudable, it was somewhat misguided. Newby had only begun to give serious attention to the publication of their novels when he realized that there was reflected glory – not to mention money – to be made from the magical name of Bell. The mystery surrounding the sex and identity of Currer Bell would fuel interest in his own publication of works by Ellis and Acton Bell and, as circumstances would swiftly prove, he was not averse to manipulating the truth in order to gain maximum publicity and sales.

At the beginning of December 1847,
Wuthering Heights
and
Agnes Grey
were finally published – or so their authors were obliged to deduce from the fact that they received their six publication copies. Despite the length of time the books had been in the press, Emily and Anne were mortified to discover that almost all the errors that they had so painstakingly corrected in the proof-sheets appeared unchanged in the final copies.
¹⁰³

If, in sticking with Newby, Emily and Anne had hoped to assert their mental and literary independence from Charlotte, they were soon to be disillusioned. The reviewers, aided by Newby's judicious advertising, were not slow to realize the connection between the three Bells and to draw comparisons between their works. The appearance of
Wuthering Heights
and
Agnes Grey
only reinforced what was gradually becoming a consensus of critical opinion on the ‘low tone of behaviour' in the Bells' books. Unfortunately, one of the earliest reviews was in the
Spectator
, which had first raised the question in reviewing
Jane Eyre
and now returned to the attack. The reviewer disapprovingly drew particular attention to the affinity between the writers: ‘In each, there is the autobiographical form of
writing; a choice of subjects that are peculiar without being either probable or pleasing; and considerable executive ability, but insufficient to overcome the injudicious selection of the theme and matter.' The
Athenaeum
soon followed with its own sour comment: ‘The Bells seem to affect painful and exceptional subjects: – the misdeeds and oppressions of tyranny – the eccentricities of “woman's fantasy”.'
¹⁰⁴

Wuthering Heights
, as the more dramatic of the two new works, attracted by far the greater proportion of comment and the same criticisms recur again and again. Some of these were justified. The
Atlas
, for instance, was not alone in declaring that the book ‘sadly wants relief,' but then went on to overstate its case: ‘There is not in the entire
dramatis personae
a single character which is not utterly hateful or thoroughly contemptible.'
¹⁰⁵
There was a constant litany of complaint about the brutality and violence of some of the scenes and about the use of expletives, which, contrary to custom, Emily had written out in full rather than indicated by a dash.
¹⁰⁶
The reviewers searched in vain for a moral to the story, the most charitable judgement being that in the
Britannia:
‘We do not know whether the author writes with any purpose; but we can speak of one effect of his production. It strongly shows the brutalizing influence of unchecked passion.'
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Despite the baffled reaction of some of the critics, there was still much to encourage Emily in their reviews. The
Britannia
offered the perceptive comment that Ellis Bell's creations ‘strike us as proceeding from a mind of limited experience, but of original energy, and of a singular and distinctive cast'. At least two critics were enthralled almost against their will. An American reviewer wrote in the
Literary World:

Fascinated by strange magic we read what we dislike, we become interested in characters which are most revolting to our feelings, and are made subject to the immense power, of the book … we are spell-bound, we cannot choose but read.
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The critic in Douglas Jerrold's Weekly Newspaper concurred.

Wuthering Heights
is a strange sort of book, – baffling all regular criticism; yet, it is impossible to begin and not finish it; and quite as impossible to lay it aside afterwards and say nothing about it… We strongly recommend all our readers who love novelty to get this story, for we can promise them that they never have read anything like it before.

Though, ‘very puzzled and very interested' by a book which he finally left to his readers to decide upon, this critic nevertheless foresaw a great future for the author. ‘We are quite confident that the writer of
Wuthering Heights
wants but the practised skill to make a great artist; perhaps, a great dramatic artist.' Even the fault-finding G.W. Peck, who characterized it as ‘a coarse, original, powerful book', was obliged to concede that ‘if the rank of a work of fiaion is to depend solely on its naked imaginative power, then this is one of the greatest novels in the language'.
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Though most reviewers seem to have been intrigued by
Wuthering Heights
and, even when overtly hostile, dedicated many column inches to its discussion, they tended completely to overlook
Agnes Grey
. The few who referred to it did so only to remark on the fact that it lacked the power of
Wuthering Heights
and was ‘more agreeable' in subject matter and treatment. Generally, however, the notices were dismissive. ‘Some characters and scenes are nicely sketched in it', observed the
Britannia
, ‘but it has nothing to call for special notice.' The
Atlas was
even worse, describing
Agnes Grey
as ‘a somewhat coarse imitation of one of Miss Austin's [sic] charming stories … It leaves no painful impression on the mind – some may think it leaves no impression at all.'
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With such reviews the Brontë sisters had to be content. On the whole, despite the adverse comments, their first forays into novel writing had attracted more attention and been better received than they might have expected.

As for
Jane Eyre
, its runaway success must have seemed barely credible. Early in December Charlotte was ‘glad and proud' to receive a bank bill for one hundred pounds from Smith, Elder & Co.
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with the prospect of more to come as she was already having to prepare a second edition of the novel for the press, a mere two months after publication of the first. Apart from some minor emendations, Charlotte wanted to take the opportunity of a new edition to add a preface acknowledging her thanks to the public, ‘the select Reviewers … who have encouraged me as only large-hearted and high-minded men know how to encourage a struggling stranger' and her publishers. Nevertheless, and this was undoubtedly the real reason for writing a preface, she could not resist answering those ‘timorous or carping' critics who had designated
Jane Eyre
an ‘improper' book. ‘I would remind them of certain simple truths', she began.

Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last. To pluck the mask from the face of the Pharisee, is not to lift an impious hand to the Crown of Thorns.

These things and deeds are diametrically opposed: they are as distinct as is vice from virtue. Men too often confound them; they should not be confounded: appearance should not be mistaken for truth; narrow human doctrines, that only tend to elate and magnify a few, should not be substituted for the world-redeeming creed of Christ. There is – I repeat it – a difference; and it is a good, and not a bad action to mark broadly and clearly the line of separation between them.
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Though the writing of the preface might have eased Charlotte's ‘heart-ache' at hearing the novel called ‘godless' and ‘pernicious', it would perhaps have been wiser to have simply ignored the critics; certainly Charlotte later regretted its enthusiastic tone and wished she had written it in a cooler mood.
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Indeed, it is surprising that Smith, Elder & Co. allowed Charlotte to betray her naivety in this way. One can only assume that in the rush to bring out a second edition before the first was sold out, her publishers did not pay much attention to the preface. In so doing they allowed her to commit a cardinal error – one which was to expose her to even more malicious gossip and critical unpleasantness. They allowed her to dedicate the second edition of
Jane Eyre
to her literary hero, William Makepeace Thackeray.
¹¹⁴
What those in London knew, but Charlotte could not know, was the tragedy of Thackeray's life: in 1840, after only four years of marriage, his wife had gone insane and had to be incarcerated for her own safety. The parallels with Mr Rochester were obvious and made all the more pronounced because in
Vanity Fair
, which was then making its first appearance in serial form, Thackeray had created the scheming, ambitious and heartless Becky Sharp who, like Jane Eyre, had begun life as a humble governess and raised herself by marriage with her employer. The dedication in
Jane Eyre
therefore lent credence to speculation already rife in London that ‘Currer Bell' had been a governess in Thackeray's family and that the novel was based upon the truth. Charlotte was mortified when she discovered her mistake, particularly when Thackeray himself wrote to inform her and yet thanked her for ‘the greatest compliment I have ever received in my life':

Well may it be said that Fact is often stranger than Fiction! … Of course I knew nothing whatever of Mr Thackeray's domestic concerns: he existed for me only as an author: … I am
very, very
sorry that my inadvertent blunder should have made his name and affairs a subject for common gossip.

The very fact of his not complaining at all – and addressing me with such
kindness – notwithstanding the pain and annoyance I must have caused him – increases my chagrin. I could not half express my regret to him in my answer, for I was restrained by the consciousness that that regret was just worth nothing at all – quite valueless for healing the mischief I had done.
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Despite the acute misery caused by the fact that her intended compliment had gone so badly awry, there was much to look forward to in the coming year.
Jane Eyre
was going into its second edition and her publishers were anxiously waiting for her to decide on her next book. Emily and Anne had got their first books in print and were both working on a second novel. With every prospect that they would in future be able to earn their livings in the only way that had ever been congenial, the Brontë sisters could face the new year with equanimity.

Chapter Nineteen

THE SHADOW IN THE HOUSE

The year 1848 dawned inauspiciously with a prevailing easterly wind, which always brought illness to the Brontë household. ‘We are all cut up by this cruel east wind', Anne wrote to Ellen Nussey, ‘most of us, e.i. Charlotte, Emily, and I, have had the inf[l]uenza, or a bad cold instead, twice over within the space of a few weeks; Papa has had it once. Tabby has hitherto escaped it altogether.' Excusing her ‘shabby little note', Anne explained, ‘I have no news to tell you, for we have been nowhere, seen no one, and done nothing (to
speak
of) since you were here – and yet we contrive to be busy from morning to night.'
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