A preface to
the first edition of "Jane Eyre" being
unnecessary, I gave none: this
second edition
demands a few words both of acknowledgment
and miscellaneous remark.
My thanks are due in three
quarters.
To the Public, for the indulgent
ear it has inclined to a plain
tale with few pretensions.
To the Press, for the fair
field its honest suffrage has
opened to an obscure aspirant.
To my Publishers, for the aid
their tact, their energy, their
practical sense and frank liberality
have afforded an unknown and
unrecommended Author.
The Press and the Public are
but vague personifications for
me, and I must thank them in
vague terms; but my Publishers
are definite: so are certain
generous critics who have encouraged
me as only large-hearted and
high-minded men know how to encourage
a struggling stranger; to them,
i.e., to my Publishers and the
select Reviewers, I say cordially,
Gentlemen, I thank you from my
heart.
Having thus
acknowledged what I owe those
who have aided and
approved me, I turn to another
class; a small one, so far as
I know, but not, therefore, to
be overlooked. I mean the timorous
or carping few who doubt the
tendency of such books as "Jane
Eyre:" in whose eyes whatever
is unusual is wrong; whose ears
detect in each protest against
bigotry--that parent of crime--an
insult to piety, that regent
of God on earth. I would suggest
to such doubters certain obvious
distinctions; I would remind
them of certain simple truths.
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.
The world may not like to see
these ideas dissevered, for it
has been accustomed to blend
them; finding it convenient to
make external show pass for sterling
worth--to let white-washed walls
vouch for clean shrines. It may
hate him who dares to scrutinise
and expose--to rase the gilding,
and show base metal under it--to
penetrate the sepulchre, and
reveal charnel relics: but hate
as it will, it is indebted to
him.
Ahab did not like Micaiah,
because he never prophesied good
concerning him, but evil; probably
he liked the sycophant son of
Chenaannah better; yet might
Ahab have escaped a bloody death,
had he but stopped his ears to
flattery, and opened them to
faithful counsel.
There is a
man in our own days whose words
are not framed to
tickle delicate ears: who, to
my thinking, comes before the
great ones of society, much as
the son of Imlah came before
the throned Kings of Judah and
Israel; and who speaks truth
as deep, with a power as prophet-like
and as vital--a mien as dauntless
and as daring. Is the satirist
of "Vanity Fair" admired in high
places? I cannot tell; but I
think if some of those amongst
whom he hurls the Greek fire
of his sarcasm, and over whom
he flashes the levin-brand of
his denunciation, were to take
his warnings in time--they or
their seed might yet escape a
fatal Rimoth-Gilead.
Why have I
alluded to this man? I have
alluded to him, Reader,
because I think I see in him
an intellect profounder and more
unique than his contemporaries
have yet recognised; because
I regard him as the first social
regenerator of the day--as the
very master of that working corps
who would restore to rectitude
the warped system of things;
because I think no commentator
on his writings has yet found
the comparison that suits him,
the terms which rightly characterise
his talent. They say he is like
Fielding: they talk of his wit,
humour, comic powers. He resembles
Fielding as an eagle does a vulture:
Fielding could stoop on carrion,
but Thackeray never does. 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.
Finally, I have alluded to Mr.
Thackeray, because to him--if
he will accept the tribute of
a total stranger--I have dedicated
this second edition of "JANE
EYRE."
CURRER BELL.
December 21st, 1847.
NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION
I avail myself
of the opportunity which a
third edition of "Jane
Eyre" affords me, of again addressing
a word to the Public, to explain
that my claim to the title of
novelist rests on this one work
alone. If, therefore, the authorship
of other works of fiction has
been attributed to me, an honour
is awarded where it is not merited;
and consequently, denied where
it is justly due.
This explanation will serve
to rectify mistakes which may
already have been made, and to
prevent future errors.
CURRER BELL.
April 13th, 1848.
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