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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