TO JAMES TAYLOR, CORNHILL
‘March 22nd, 1851.
‘My dear Sir,—Yesterday I despatched a box of books to Cornhill, including the number of the North British Review which you kindly lent me. The article to which you particularly directed my attention was read with pleasure and interest, and if I do not now discuss it more at length, it is because I am well aware how completely your attention must be at present engrossed, since, if I rightly understood a brief paragraph in Mr. Smith’s last note, you are now on the eve of quitting England for India.
‘I will limit myself, then, to the expression of a sincere wish for your welfare and prosperity in this undertaking, and to the hope that the great change of climate will bring with it no corresponding risk to health. I should think you will be missed in Cornhill, but doubtless “business” is a Moloch which demands such sacrifices.
‘I do not know when you go, nor whether your absence is likely to be permanent or only for a time; whichever it be, accept my best wishes for your happiness, and my farewell, if I should not again have the opportunity of addressing you.—Believe me, sincerely yours,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO JAMES TAYLOR, CORNHILL
‘March 24th, 1851.
‘My dear Sir,—I had written briefly to you before I received yours, but I fear the note would not reach you in time. I will now only say that both my father and myself will have pleasure in seeing you on your return from Scotland—a pleasure tinged with sadness certainly, as all partings are, but still a pleasure.
‘I do most entirely agree with you in what you say about Miss Martineau’s and Mr. Atkinson’s book. I deeply regret its publication for the lady’s sake; it gives a death-blow to her future usefulness. Who can trust the word, or rely on the judgment, of an avowed atheist?
‘May your decision in the crisis through which you have gone result in the best effect on your happiness and welfare; and indeed, guided as you are by the wish to do right and a high sense of duty, I trust it cannot be otherwise. The change of climate is all I fear; but Providence will over-rule this too for the best—in Him you can believe and on Him rely. You will want, therefore, neither solace nor support, though your lot be cast as a stranger in a strange land.—I am, yours sincerely,
‘C. Brontë.
‘When you shall have definitely fixed the time of your return southward, write me a line to say on what day I may expect you at Haworth.
‘C. B.’
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
‘April 5th, 1851.
‘Dear Ellen,—Mr. Taylor has been and is gone; things are just as they were. I only know in addition to the slight information I possessed before, that this Indian undertaking is necessary to the continued prosperity of the firm of Smith, Elder, & Co., and that he, Taylor, alone was pronounced to possess the power and means to carry it out successfully—that mercantile honour, combined with his own sense of duty, obliged him to accept the post of honour and of danger to which he has been appointed, that he goes with great personal reluctance, and that he contemplates an absence of five years.
‘He looked much thinner and older. I saw him very near, and once through my glass; the resemblance to Branwell struck me forcibly—it is marked. He is not ugly, but very peculiar; the lines in his face show an inflexibility, and, I must add, a hardness of character which do not attract. As he stood near me, as he looked at me in his keen way, it was all I could do to stand my ground tranquilly and steadily, and not to recoil as before. It is no use saying anything if I am not candid. I avow then, that on this occasion, predisposed as I was to regard him very favourably, his manners and his personal presence scarcely pleased me more than at the first interview. He gave me a book at parting, requesting in his brief way that I would keep it for his sake, and adding hastily, “I shall hope to hear from you in India—your letters have been and will be a greater refreshment than you can think or I can tell.”
‘And so he is gone; and stern and abrupt little man as he is—too often jarring as are his manners—his absence and the exclusion of his idea from my mind leave me certainly with less support and in deeper solitude than before.
‘You see, dear Nell, though we are still precisely on the same level—you are not isolated. I feel that there is a certain mystery about this transaction yet, and whether it will ever be cleared up to me I do not know; however, my plain duty is to wean my mind from the subject, and if possible to avoid pondering over it. In his conversation he seemed studiously to avoid reference to Mr. Smith individually, speaking always of the “house”—the “firm.” He seemed throughout quite as excited and nervous as when I first saw him. I feel that in his way he has a regard for me—a regard which I cannot bring myself entirely to reciprocate in kind, and yet its withdrawal leaves a painful blank.’
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
‘April 9th, 1851.
‘Dear Nell,—Thank you for your kind note; it was just like you to write it though it was your school-day. I never knew you to let a slight impediment stand in the way of a friendly action.
‘Certainly I shall not soon forget last Friday, and never, I think, the evening and night succeeding that morning and afternoon. Evils seldom come singly. And soon after Mr. Taylor was gone, papa, who had been better, grew much worse. He went to bed early, and was very sick and ill for an hour; and when at last he began to doze, and I left him, I came down to the dining-room with a sense of weight, fear, and desolation hard to express and harder to endure. A wish that you were with me did cross my mind, but I repulsed it as a most selfish wish; indeed, it was only short-lived: my natural tendency in moments of this sort is to get through the struggle alone—to think that one is burdening and racking others makes all worse.
‘You speak to me in soft consolating accents, but I hold far sterner language to myself, dear Nell.
‘An absence of five years—a dividing expanse of three oceans—the wide difference between a man’s active career and a woman’s passive existence—these things are almost equivalent to an eternal separation. But there is another thing which forms a barrier more difficult to pass than any of these. Would Mr. Taylor and I ever suit? Could I ever feel for him enough love to accept him as a husband? Friendship—gratitude—esteem I have, but each moment he came near me, and that I could see his eyes fastened on me, my veins ran ice. Now that he is away I feel far more gently towards him; it is only close by that I grow rigid—stiffening with a strange mixture of apprehension and anger, which nothing softens but his retreat and a perfect subduing of his manner. I did not want to be proud, nor intend to be proud, but I was forced to be so.
‘Most true is it that we are over-ruled by one above us—that in his hands our very will is as clay in the hands of the potter.
‘Papa continues very far from well, though yesterday, and I hope this morning, he is a little better. How is your mother? Give my love to her and your sister. How are you? Have you suffered from tic since you returned home? Did they think you improved in looks?
‘Write again soon.—Yours faithfully,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
‘April 23rd, 1851.
‘My dear Ellen,—I have heard from Mr. Taylor to-day—a quiet little note. He returned to London a week since on Saturday; he has since kindly chosen and sent me a parcel of books. He leaves England May 20th. His note concludes with asking whether he has any chance of seeing me in London before that time. I must tell him that I have already fixed June for my visit, and therefore, in all human probability, we shall see each other no more.
‘There is still a want of plain mutual understanding in this business, and there is sadness and pain in more ways than one. My conscience, I can truly say, does not now accuse me of having treated Mr. Taylor with injustice or unkindness. What I once did wrong in this way, I have endeavoured to remedy both to himself and in speaking of him to others—Mr. Smith to wit, though I more than doubt whether that last opinion will ever reach him. I am sure he has estimable and sterling qualities; but with every disposition and with every wish, with every intention even to look on him in the most favourable point of view at his last visit, it was impossible to me in my inward heart to think of him as one that might one day be acceptable as a husband. It would sound harsh were I to tell even you of the estimate I felt compelled to form respecting him. Dear Nell, I looked for something of the gentleman—something I mean of the natural gentleman; you know I can dispense with acquired polish, and for looks, I know myself too well to think that I have any right to be exacting on that point. I could not find one gleam, I could not see one passing glimpse of true good-breeding. It is hard to say, but it is true. In mind too, though clever, he is second-rate—thoroughly second-rate. One does not like to say these things, but one had better be honest. Were I to marry him my heart would bleed in pain and humiliation; I could not, could not look up to him. No; if Mr. Taylor be the only husband fate offers to me, single I must always remain. But yet, at times I grieve for him, and perhaps it is superfluous, for I cannot think he will suffer much: a hard nature, occupation, and change of scene will befriend him.
‘With kind regards to all,—I am, dear Nell, your middle-aged friend,
‘C. Brontë.
‘Write soon.’
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
‘May 5th, 1851.
‘My dear Ellen,—I have had a long kind letter from Miss Martineau lately. She says she is well and happy. Also, I have had a very long letter from Mr. Williams. He speaks with much respect of Mr. Taylor. I discover with some surprise, papa has taken a decided liking to Mr. Taylor. The marked kindness of his manner when he bid him good-bye, exhorting him to be “true to himself, his country, and his God,” and wishing him all good wishes, struck me with some astonishment. Whenever he has alluded to him since, it has been with significant eulogy. When I alluded that he was no gentleman, he seemed out of patience with me for the objection. You say papa has penetration. On this subject I believe he has indeed. I have told him nothing, yet he seems to be au fait to the whole business. I could think at some moments his guesses go farther than mine. I believe he thinks a prospective union, deferred for five years, with such a decorous reliable personage, would be a very proper and advisable affair.
‘How has your tic been lately? I had one fiery night when this same dragon “tic” held me for some hours with pestilent violence. It still comes at intervals with abated fury. Owing to this and broken sleep, I am looking singularly charming, one of my true London looks—starved out and worn down. Write soon, dear Nell.—Yours faithfully,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
‘112 Gloucester Place,
‘Hyde Park, June 2nd, 1851.‘Dear Ellen,—Mr. Taylor has gone some weeks since. I hear more open complaints now about his temper. Of Mr. Williams’ society I have enjoyed one evening’s allowance, and liked it and him as usual. On such occasions his good qualities of ease, kindliness, and intelligence are seen, and his little faults and foibles hidden. Mr. Smith is somewhat changed in appearance. He looks a little older, darker, and more careworn; his ordinary manner is graver, but in the evening his spirits flow back to him. Things and circumstances seem here to be as usual, but I fancy there has been some crisis in which his energy and filial affection have sustained them all. This I judge from the fact that his mother and sisters are more peculiarly bound to him than ever, and that his slightest wish is an unquestioned law.—Faithfully yours,
‘C. Brontë.’
‘November 4th, 1851.
‘Dear Ellen,—Papa, Tabby, and Martha are at present all better, yet none of them well. Martha at present looks feeble. I wish she had a better constitution. As it is, one is always afraid of giving her too much to do; and yet there are many things I cannot undertake myself, and we do not like to change when we have had her so long. How are you getting on in the matter of servants? The other day I received a long letter from Mr. Taylor. I told you I did not expect to hear thence, nor did I. The letter is long, but it is worth your while to read it. In its way it has merit, that cannot be denied; abundance of information, talent of a certain kind, alloyed (I think) here and there with errors of taste. He might have spared many of the details of the bath scene, which, for the rest, tallies exactly with Mr. Thackeray’s account of the same process. This little man with all his long letters remains as much a conundrum to me as ever. Your account of the domestic joys at Hunsworth amused me much. The good folks seem very happy—long may they continue so! It somewhat cheers me to know that such happiness does exist on the earth. Return Mr. Taylor’s letter when you have read it. With love to your mother,—I am, dear Nell, sincerely yours,
‘C. B.’
TO JAMES TAYLOR, BOMBAY
‘Haworth, November 15th, 1851.
‘My dear Sir,—Both your communications reached me safely—the note of the 17th September and the letter of the 2nd October. You do yourself less than justice when you stigmatise the latter as “ill-written.” I found it quite legible, nor did I lose a word, though the lines and letters were so close. I should have been sorry if such had not been the case, as it appeared to me throughout highly interesting. It is observable that the very same information which we have previously collected, perhaps with rather languid attention, from printed books, when placed before us in familiar manuscript, and comprising the actual experience of a person with whom we are acquainted, acquires a new and vital interest: when we know the narrator we seem to realise the tale.
‘The bath scene amused me much. Your account of that operation tallies in every point with Mr. Thackeray’s description in the Journey from Cornhill to Grand Cairo. The usage seems a little rough, and I cannot help thinking that equal benefit might be obtained through less violent means; but I suppose without the previous fatigue the after-sensation would not be so enjoyable, and no doubt it is that indolent after-sensation which the self-indulgent Mahometans chiefly cultivate. I think you did right to disdain it.
‘It would seem to me a matter of great regret that the society at Bombay should be so deficient in all intellectual attraction. Perhaps, however, your occupations will so far absorb your thoughts as to prevent them from dwelling painfully on this circumstance. No doubt there will be moments when you will look back to London and Scotland, and the friends you have left there, with some yearning; but I suppose business has its own excitement. The new country, the new scenes too, must have their interest; and as you will not lack books to fill your leisure, you will probably soon become reconciled to a change which, for some minds, would too closely resemble exile.
‘I fear the climate—such as you describe it—must be very trying to an European constitution. In your first letter, you mentioned October as the month of danger; it is now over. Whether you have passed its ordeal safely, must yet for some weeks remain unknown to your friends in England—they can but wish that such may be the case. You will not expect me to write a letter that shall form a parallel with your own either in quantity or quality; what I write must be brief, and what I communicate must be commonplace and of trivial interest.
‘My father, I am thankful to say, continues in pretty good health. I read portions of your letter to him and he was interested in hearing them. He charged me when I wrote to convey his very kind remembrances.
‘I had myself ceased to expect a letter from you. On taking leave at Haworth you said something about writing from India, but I doubted at the time whether it was not one of those forms of speech which politeness dictates; and as time passed, and I did not hear from you, I became confirmed in this view of the subject. With every good wish for your welfare,—I am, yours sincerely,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
‘November 19th, 1851.
‘Dear Ellen,—All here is much as usual, and I was thinking of writing to you this morning when I received your note. I am glad to hear your mother bears this severe weather tolerably, as papa does also. I had a cold, chiefly in the throat and chest, but I applied cold water, which relieved me, I think, far better than hot applications would have done. The only events in my life consist in that little change occasional letters bring. I have had two from Miss Wooler since she left Haworth which touched me much. She seems to think so much of a little congenial company. She says she has not for many days known such enjoyment as she experienced during the ten days she stayed here. Yet you know what Haworth is—dull enough.
‘How could you imagine your last letter offended me? I only disagreed with you on one point. The little man’s disdain of the sensual pleasure of a Turkish bath had, I must own, my approval. Before answering his epistle I got up my courage to write to Mr. Williams, through whose hands or those of Mr. Smith I knew the Indian letter had come, and beg him to give me an impartial judgment of Mr. Taylor’s character and disposition, owning that I was very much in the dark. I did not like to continue correspondence without further information. I got the answer, which I inclose. You say nothing about the Hunsworth Turtle-doves—how are they? and how is the branch of promise? I hope doing well.—Yours faithfully,
‘C. Brontë.’
‘January 1st, 1852.
‘My dear Sir,—I am glad of the opportunity of writing to you, for I have long wished to send you a little note, and was only deterred from doing so by the conviction that the period preceding Christmas must be a very busy one to you.
‘I have wished to thank you for your last, which gave me very genuine pleasure. You ascribe to Mr. Taylor an excellent character; such a man’s friendship, at any rate, should not be disregarded; and if the principles and disposition be what you say, faults of manner and even of temper ought to weigh light in the balance. I always believed in his judgment and good-sense, but what I doubted was his kindness—he seemed to me a little too harsh, rigid, and unsympathising. Now, judgment, sense, principle are invaluable and quite indispensable points, but one would be thankful for a little feeling, a little indulgence in addition—without these, poor fallible human nature shrinks under the domination of the sterner qualities. I answered Mr. Taylor’s letter by the mail of the 19th November, sending it direct, for, on reflection, I did not see why I should trouble you with it.
‘Did your son Frank call on Mrs. Gaskell? and how did he like her?
‘My health has not been very satisfactory lately, but I think, though I vary almost daily, I am much better than I was a fortnight ago. All the winter the fact of my never being able to stoop over a desk without bringing on pain and oppression in the chest has been a great affliction to me, and the want of tranquil rest at night has tried me much, but I hope for the better times. The doctors say that there is no organic mischief.
‘Wishing a happy New Year to you,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY
‘March 7th, 1852.
‘Dear Ellen,—I hope both your mother’s cold and yours are quite well ere this. Papa has got something of his spring attack of bronchitis, but so far it is in a greatly ameliorated form, very different to what it has been for three years past. I do trust it may pass off thus mildly. I continue better.
‘Dear Nell, I told you from the beginning that my going to Sussex was a most improbable event; I tell you now that unless want of health should absolutely compel me to give up work and leave home (which I trust and hope will not be the case) I certainly shall not think of going. It is better to be decided, and decided I must be. You can never want me less than when in Sussex surrounded by amusement and friends. I do not know that I shall go to Scarbro’, but it might be possible to spare a fortnight to go there (for the sake of a sad duty rather than pleasure), when I could not give a month to a longer excursion. I have not a word of news to tell you. Many mails have come from India since I was at Brookroyd. Expectation would at times be on the alert, but disappointment knocked her down. I have not heard a syllable, and cannot think of making inquiries at Cornhill. Well, long suspense in any matter usually proves somewhat cankering, but God orders all things for us, and to His Will we must submit. Be sure to keep a calm mind; expect nothing.—Yours faithfully,
‘C. Brontë.’
When Mr. Taylor returned to England in 1856 Charlotte Brontë was dead. His after-life was more successful than happy. He did not, it is true, succeed in Bombay with the firm of Smith, Taylor & Co. That would seem to have collapsed. But he made friends in Bombay and returned there in 1863 as editor of the Bombay Gazette and the Bombay Quarterly Review. A little later he became editor of the Bombay Saturday Review, which had not, however, a long career. Mr. Taylor’s successes were not journalistic but mercantile. As Secretary of the Bombay Chamber of Commerce, which appointment he obtained in 1865, he obtained much real distinction. To this post he added that of Registrar of the University of Bombay and many other offices. He was elected Sheriff in 1874, in which year he died. An imposing funeral ceremony took place
in the Cathedral, and he was buried in the Bombay cemetery, where his tomb may be found to the left of the entrance gates, inscribed—
JAMES TAYLOR. DIED APRIL 29, 1874, AGED 57.
He married during his visit to England, but the marriage was not a happy one. That does not belong to the present story. Here, however, is a cutting from the Times marriage record in 1863:—
‘On the 23rd inst., at the Church of St. John the Evangelist, St. Pancras, by the Rev. James Moorhouse, M.A., James Taylor, Esq., of Furnival’s-inn, and Bombay, to Annie, widow of Adolph Ritter, of Vienna, and stepdaughter of Thos. Harrison, Esq., of Birchanger Place, Essex.’
CHAPTER XIII: LITERARY AMBITIONS
We have seen how Charlotte Brontë and her sisters wrote from their earliest years those little books which embodied their vague aspirations after literary fame. Now and again the effort is admirable, notably in The Adventures of Ernest Alembert, but on the whole it amounts to as little as did the juvenile productions of Shelley. That poet, it will be remembered, wrote Zastrozzi at nineteen, and much else that was bad, some of which he printed. Charlotte Brontë was mercifully restrained by a well-nigh empty purse from this ill-considered rashness. It was not till the death of their aunt had added to their slender resources that the Brontë girls conceived the idea of actually publishing a book at their own expense. They communicated with the now extinct firm of Aylott & Jones of Paternoster Row, and Charlotte appears to have written many letters to the firm, [325] only two or three of which are printed by Mrs. Gaskell. The correspondence is comparatively insignificant, but as the practical beginning of Charlotte’s literary career, the hitherto unpublished letters which have been preserved are perhaps worth reproducing here.
TO AYLOTT & JONES
‘January 28th, 1846.
‘Gentlemen,—May I request to be informed whether you would undertake the publication of a collection of short poems in one volume, 8vo.
‘If you object to publishing the work at your own risk, would you undertake it on the author’s account?—I am, gentlemen, your obedient humble servant,
‘C. Brontë.
‘Address—Rev. P. Brontë, Haworth, Bradford, Yorkshire.’
TO AYLOTT & JONES
‘March 3rd, 1846.
‘Gentlemen,—I send a draft for £31, 10s., being the amount of your estimate.
‘I suppose there is nothing now to prevent your immediately commencing the printing of the work.
‘When you acknowledge the receipt of the draft, will you state how soon it will be completed?—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO AYLOTT & JONES
‘March 11th, 1846.
‘Gentlemen,—I have received the proof-sheet, and return it corrected. If there is any doubt at all about the printer’s competency to correct errors, I would prefer submitting each sheet to the inspection of the authors, because such a mistake, for instance, as tumbling stars, instead of trembling, would suffice to throw an air of absurdity over a whole poem; but if you know from experience that he is to be relied on, I would trust to your assurance on the subject, and leave the task of correction to him, as I know that a considerable saving both of time and trouble would be thus effected.
‘The printing and paper appear to me satisfactory. Of course I wish to have the work out as soon as possible, but I am still more anxious that it should be got up in a manner creditable to the publishers and agreeable to the authors.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,
‘C. Brontë.’
‘March 13th, 1846.
‘Gentlemen,—I return you the second proof. The authors have finally decided that they would prefer having all the proofs sent to them in turn, but you need not inclose the Ms., as they can correct the errors from memory.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO AYLOTT & JONES
‘March 23rd, 1846.
‘Gentlemen,—As the proofs have hitherto come safe to hand under the direction of C. Brontë, Esq., I have not thought it necessary to request you to change it, but a little mistake having occurred yesterday, I think it will be better to send them to me in future under my real address, which is Miss Brontë, Rev. P. Brontë, etc.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO AYLOTT & JONES
‘April 6th, 1846.
‘Gentlemen,—C., E., and A. Bell are now preparing for the press a work of fiction, consisting of three distinct and unconnected tales, which may be published either together, as a work of three volumes, of the ordinary novel size, or separately as single volumes, as shall be deemed most advisable.
‘It is not their intention to publish these tales on their own account. They direct me to ask you whether you would be disposed to undertake the work, after having, of course, by due inspection of the Ms., ascertained that its contents are such as to warrant an expectation of success.
‘An early answer will oblige, as, in case of your negativing the proposal, inquiry must be made of other publishers.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO AYLOTT & JONES
‘April 15th, 1846.
‘Gentlemen,—I have to thank you for your obliging answer to my last. The information you give is of value to us, and when the MS. is completed your suggestions shall be acted on.
‘There will be no preface to the poems. The blank leaf may be filled up by a table of contents, which I suppose the printer will prepare. It appears the volume will be a thinner one than was calculated on.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO AYLOTT & JONES
‘May 11th, 1846.
‘Gentlemen,—The books may be done up in the style of Moxon’s duodecimo edition of Wordsworth.
‘The price may be fixed at 5s., or if you think that too much for the size of the volume, say 4s.
‘I think the periodicals I mentioned in my last will be sufficient for advertising in at present, and I should not wish you to lay out a larger sum than £2, especially as the estimate is increased by nearly £5, in consequence, it appears, of a mistake. I should think the success of a work depends more on the notice it receives from periodicals, than on the quantity of advertisements.
‘If you do not object, the additional amount of the estimate can be remitted when you send in your account at the end of the first six months.
‘I should be obliged to you if you could let me know how soon copies can be sent to the editors of the magazines and newspapers specified.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO AYLOTT & JONES
‘May 25th, 1846.
‘Gentlemen,—I received yours of the 22nd this morning. I now transmit £5, being the additional sum necessary to defray the entire expense of paper and printing. It will leave a small surplus of 11s. 9d., which you can place to my account.
‘I am glad you have sent copies to the newspapers you mention, and in case of a notice favourable or otherwise appearing in them, or in any of the other periodicals to which copies have been sent, I should be obliged to you if you would send me down the numbers; otherwise, I have not the opportunity of seeing these publications regularly. I might miss it, and should the poems be remarked upon favourably, it is my intention to appropriate a further sum to advertisements. If, on the other hand, they should pass unnoticed or be condemned, I consider it would be quite useless to advertise, as there is nothing, either in the title of the work or the names of the authors, to attract attention from a single individual.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,
‘C. Brontë.’
TO AYLOTT & JONES
‘July 10th, 1846.
‘Gentlemen,—I am directed by the Messrs. Bell to acknowledge the receipt of the Critic and the Athenæum containing notices of the poems.
‘They now think that a further sum of £10 may be devoted to advertisements, leaving it to you to select such channels as you deem most advisable.
‘They would wish the following extract from the Critic to be appended to each advertisement:—
‘“They in whose hearts are chords strung by Nature to sympathise with the beautiful and the true, will recognise in these compositions the presence of more genius than it was supposed this utilitarian age had devoted to the loftier exercises of the intellect.”
‘They likewise request you to send copies of the poems to Fraser’s Magazine, Chambers’ Edinburgh Journal, the Globe, and Examiner.—I am, gentlemen, yours truly,
‘C. Brontë.’
To an appreciative editor Currer Bell wrote as follows:—