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　╱◥██◣　╭╭　⌒　　　　　　　　　
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The　Bront？　Sisters
Works
Wuthering　Heights
Anne
The　Tenant　of　Wildfell　Hall
Charlotte
Shirley
Jane　Eyre
Biography
Charlotte　Bront？　（1816…1855）。—Novelist；　daughter　of　the　Rev。　Patrick　B。；　a　clergyman　of　Irish　descent　and　of　eccentric　habits　who　embittered　the　lives　of　his　children　by　his　peculiar　theories　of　education。　Brought　up　in　a　small　parsonage　close　to　the　graveyard　of　a　bleak；　windswept　village　on　the　Yorkshire　moors；　and　left　motherless　in　early　childhood；　she　was　“the　motherly　friend　and　guardian　of　her　younger　sisters；”　of　whom　two；　Emily　and　Anne；　shared；　but　in　a　less　degree；　her　talents。　After　various　efforts　as　schoolmistresses　and　governesses；　the　sisters　took　to　literature　and　published　a　vol。　of　poems　under　the　names　of　Currer；　Ellis；　and　Acton　Bell；　which；　however；　fell　flat。　Charlotte　then　wrote　her　first　novel；　The　Professor；　which　did　not　appear　until　after　her　death；　and　began　Jane　Eyre；　which；　appearing　in　1847；　took　the　public　by　storm。　It　was　followed　by　Shirley　in　1849；　and　Villette　in　1852。　In　1854　she　was　married　to　her　father’s　curate；　the　Rev。　A。　Nicholls；　but　after　a　short　though　happy　married　life　she　died　in　1855。　Anne　B
。　（1820…1849）　was　the　authoress　of　The　Tenant　of　Wildfell　Hall　and　Agnes　Grey　（1848）。　She　had　not　the　intellectual　force　of　her　sisters。　The　novels　of　Charlotte　especially　created　a　strong　impression　from　the　first；　and　the　published　of　Jane　Eyre　gave　rise　to　much　curiosity　and　speculation　as　to　its　authorship。　Their　strength　and　originality　have　retained　for　them　a　high　place　in　English　fiction　which　is　likely　to　prove　permanent。　There　is　a　biography　of　Charlotte　by　Mrs。　Gaskell　（q。v。）。　
Emily　Bront？　（1818…1848）。—Novelist　and　poet。　Sister　to　Charlotte
and　Anne
。　Wrote　a　story　of　extraordinary　reality　and　imagination　in　Wuthering　Heights；　in　whose　pages　the　Yorkshire　moors　are　given　a　wild　and　tragic　personal　reality。　The　same　emotional　force　marks　the　best　of　her　poems；　though　written　with　an　apparently　heedless　pen　for　her　own　relief。　
Preface
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　unremended　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　perate　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；　es　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　mentator　on　his　writings　has　yet　found　the　parison　that　suits　him；　the　terms　which　rightly　characterise　his　talent。　They　say　he　is　like　Fielding：　they　talk　of　his　wit；　humour；　ic　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。
Chapter　1
There　was　no　possibility　of　taking　a　walk　that　day。　We　had　been　wandering；　indeed；　in　the　leafless　shrubbery　an　hour　in　the　morning；　but　since　dinner　（Mrs。　Reed；　when　there　was　no　pany；　dined　early）　the　cold　winter　wind　had　brought　with　it　clouds　so　sombre；　and　a　rain　so　perating；　that　further　out…door　exercise　was　now　out　of　the　question。
I　was　glad　of　it：　I　never　liked　long　walks；　especially　on　chilly　afternoons：　dreadful　to　me　was　the　ing　home　in　the　raw　twilight；　with　nipped　fingers　and　toes；　and　a　heart　saddened　by　the　chidings　of　Bessie；　the　nurse；　and　humbled　by　the　consciousness　of　my　physical　inferiority　to　Eliza；　John；　and　Georgiana　Reed。
The　said　Eliza；　John；　and　Georgiana　were　now　clustered　round　their　mama　in　the　drawing…room：　she　lay　reclined　on　a　sofa　by　the　fireside；　and　with　her　darlings　about　her　（for　the　time　neither　quarrelling　nor　crying）　looked　perfectly　happy。　Me；　she　had　dispensed　from　joining　the　group；　saying；　“She　regretted　to　be　under　the　necessity　of　keeping　me　at　a　distance；　but　that　until　she　heard　from　Bessie；　and　could　discover　by　her　own　observation；　that　I　was　endeavouring　in　good　earnest　to　acquire　a　more　sociable　and　childlike　disposition；　a　more　attractive　and　sprightly　manner—　something　lighter；　franker；　more　natural；　as　it　were—she　really　must　exclude　me　from　privileges　intended　only　for　contented；　happy；　little　children。”
“What　does　Bessie　say　I　have　done？”　I　asked。
“Jane；　I　don’t　like　cavillers　or　questioners；　besides；　there　is　something　truly　forbidding　in　a　child　taking　up　her　elders　in　that　manner。　Be　seated　somewhere；　and　until　you　can　speak　pleasantly；　remain　silent。”
A　breakfast…room　adjoined　the　drawing…room；　I　slipped　in　there。　It　contained　a　bookcase：　I　soon　possessed　myself　of　a　volume；　taking　care　that　it　should　be　one　stored　with　pictures。　I　mounted　into　the　window…seat：　gathering　up　my　feet；　I　sat　cross…legged；　like　a　Turk；　and；　having　drawn　the　red　moreen　curtain　nearly　close；　I　was　shrined　in　double　retirement。
Folds　of　scarlet　drapery　shut　in　my　view　to　the　right　hand；　to　the　left　were　the　clear　panes　of　glass；　protecting；　but　not　separating　me　from　the　drear　November　day。　At　intervals；　while　turning　over　the　leaves　of　my　book；　I　studied　the　aspect　of　that　winter　afternoon。　Afar；　it　offered　a　pale　blank　of　mist　and　cloud；　near　a　scene　of　wet　lawn　and　storm…beat　shrub；　with　ceaseless　rain　sweeping　away　wildly　before　a　long　and　lamentable　blast。
I　returned　to　my　book—Bewick’s　History　of　British　Birds：　the　letterpress　thereof　I　cared　little　for；　generally　speaking；　and　yet　there　were　certain　introductory　pages　that；　child　as　I　was；　I　could　not　pass　quite　as　a　blank。　They　were　those　which　treat　of　the　haunts　of　sea…fowl；　of　“the　solitary　rocks　and　promontories”　by　them　only　inhabited；　of　the　coast　of　Norway；　studded　with　isles　from　its　southern　extremity；　the　Lindeness；　or　Naze；　to　the　North　Cape—
“Where　the　Northern　Ocean；　in　vast　whirls；
Boils　round　the　naked；　melancholy　isles
Of　farthest　Thule；　and　the　Atlantic　surge
Pours　in　among　the　stormy　Hebrides。”
Nor　could　I　pass　unnoticed　the　suggestion　of　the　bleak　shores　of　Lapland；　Siberia；　Spitzbergen；　Nova　Zembla；　Iceland；　Greenland；　with　“the　vast　sweep　of　the　Arctic　Zone；　and　those　forlorn　regions　of　dreary　space；—that　reservoir　of　frost　and　snow；　where　firm　fields　of　ice；　the　accumulation　of　centuries　of　winters；　glazed　in　Alpine　heights　above　heights；　surround　the　pole；　and　concentre　the　multiplied　rigours　of　extreme　cold。”　Of　these　death…white　realms　I　formed　an　idea　of　my　own：　shadowy；　like　all　the　half…prehended　notions　that　float　dim　through　children’s　brains；　but　strangely　impressive。　The　words　in　these　introductory　pages　connected　themselves　with　the　succeeding　vigtes；　and　gave　significance　to　the　rock　standing　up　alone　in　a　sea　of　billow　and　spray；　to　the　broken　boat　stranded　on　a　desolate　coast；　to　the　cold　and　ghastly　moon　glancing　through　bars　of　cloud　at　a　wreck　just　sinking。
I　cannot　tell　what　sentiment　haunted　the　quite　solitary　churchyard；　with　its　inscribed　headstone；　its　gate；　its　two　trees；　its　low　horizon；　girdled　by　a　broken　wall；　and　its　newly…risen　crescent；　attesting　the　hour　of　eventide。
The　two　ships　becalmed　on　a　torpid　sea；　I　believed　to　be　marine　phantoms。
The　fiend　pinning　down　the　thief’s　pack　behind　him；　I　passed　over　quickly：　it　was　an　object　of　terror。
So　was　the　black　horned　thing　seated　aloof　on　a　rock；　surveying　a　distant　crowd　surrounding　a　gallows。
Each　picture　told　a　story；　mysterious　often　to　my　undeveloped　understanding　and　imperfect　feelings；　yet　ever　profoundly　interesting：　as　interesting　as　the　tales　Bessie　sometimes　narrated　on　winter　evenings；　when　she　chanced　to　be　in　good　humour；　and　when；　having　brought　her　ironing…table　to　the　nursery　hearth；　she　allowed　us　to