University of Virginia Library

Woozles in Brontëland: A Cautionary Tale
by
Joan Stevens

______________________________________________________________________

That the text of the Bronte letters published by Clement Shorter,[1] and after him by Wise and Symington in the Shakespeare Head Brontë of 1932[2] is imperfect and incomplete has been pointed out often enough.[3] But Brontë Hunters still rely, unhappily, upon these unreliable words. Perhaps, therefore, a demonstration may be acceptable of the serious persistence of Woozles in these scholarly woods.

One of the most quoted, most pillaged letters that Charlotte ever wrote is that of 4 September 1848, which she sent to Mary Taylor in far-away New Zealand, and which Mary cherished greatly. It is the only letter of Charlotte's which she kept, of all their rich correspondence, and she lent it to Mrs Gaskell for the Life in 1856.[4]

In this letter Charlotte recreated with obvious enjoyment for her one wholly congenial friend the drama of the visit which she and Anne had paid to London two months earlier to prove to their publishers their separate authorial identities. The passage of time since July, and Mary's distance in space, provided a perspective within which Charlotte could recreate and focus the whole extraordinary affair. She writes exceptionally well, her lively colloquial prose speeding along on the wings of commas and dashes. There are memorable vignettes, glancing personal comments, and telling points of detail. The historic confrontation of Brontë-Smith at 65 Cornhill in that "little back room . . . only large enough to hold 3 chairs and a desk" is brought to life in dialogue, followed by a breathless narrative of all that thereupon was said and done, before the exhausted pair returned to the haven of their moors.

Yet in neither substance nor tone is the version published by the Shorter-Wise-Symington complex the true text of what Charlotte wrote. Comparison with the letter itself, which has been in the Library of the University of Manchester for sixty years, reveals omissions, alterations and additions, the final result being so gross a travesty that it is difficult to credit.

Shorter is the villain of the piece, though Wise and Symington are equally culpable in following blindly in his footsteps. Shorter first printed the letter in 1900 in the Haworth edition of Mrs Gaskell's Life, in his footnote to the modified extract which she had inserted in her account of the visit (pp. 361-71). Shorter's introductory remarks suggest to the unsuspecting reader that, while Mrs Gaskell's is a "skilful paraphrase," his offering is the true original. Yet it is here, at this very point, that Shorter produces a mangled text of his own, adding to it, indeed, a detail which Mrs Gaskell had supplied from another source, and which Charlotte had not herself included.[5]

Shorter "normalized" all the punctuation, thus obliterating Charlotte's spontaneity, and in one instance at least, altering her meaning.[6] Far worse than this destruction of the communicative tone are the alterations and omissions, all unacknowledged. These latter range from single words — "gentlemanly," for instance, describing Smith — to passages of considerable length. The longest omission is of one and a half particularly lively pages, some 35 lines of Charlotte's writing, covering that interview in the "little back room" and Smith's

"loquacious" reaction. Next to this in length is the omission of 13½ lines describing the bewilderment of Smith's womenfolk on penetrating to the Chapter Coffee House that Sunday afternoon to take these two "insignificant spinsters" home to Bayswater to dinner. Occasionally Shorter inserts his own drab summary covering his omission, or otherwise smooths over a too obvious excision.

Besides these sins of omission, there are those of deliberate commission, when the facts are tampered with. "At last we were shown up to Mr Smith" is how Shorter renders that moment at 65 Cornhill. The facts are quite different. As they sat waiting by the busy shop-counter, "at last somebody came up," wrote Charlotte, "and said dubiously 'Did you wish to see me, Madam?'" Then she continued "We were both hurried from the shop into a little back room — ceiled with a great skylight — and only large enough to hold 3 chairs and a desk—."

One altered detail in particular epitomises the whole sorry business, the "snowstorm," for this has misled Brontë biographers ever since — such of them, that is (they are the majority), who have not consulted either Mrs Gaskell or Charlotte Brontë herself.

On the receipt at Haworth that 7 July 1848 of Smith and Elder's letter "all in alarm, suspicion and wrath" (another phrase Shorter omitted), she and Anne, Charlotte wrote, "packed up a small box, sent it down to Keighley — set out ourselves after tea — walked through a thunderstorm to the station, got to Leeds and whirled up by the Night train to London—"

Thunderstorm: the word is perfectly clear, and Mrs Gaskell used it. But in 1900 Shorter turned it into a snowstorm, and Brontë biographers ever since have, like the page in the carol, trodden in their master's steps "where the snow hath dinted." Snow or thunder, then becomes an Instant-Test for scholarly scrupulosity. Of some fifteen books in the last thirty years, only Fannie Ratchford passes this test, while Phyllis Bentley, Margaret Lane and Margaret Crompton, who rely upon Mrs Gaskell at the point of the storm, reveal by their wording about the Brontës being "shown up to Mr Smith" that they have accepted the Shorter-Wise-Symington versions of the letter itself.[7]

Romantic Brontë Hunters, of course, cannot resist that snow, and develop it with relish. It is so superbly appropriate as the weather for their quarry to be out in, even in midsummer. More soberly, Winifred Gérin, in her Charlotte Brontë (1967), ponders on the unseasonableness

of snow in July, but concludes that "at those altitudes" such a storm would not be surprising (p. 360). Perhaps not.

Where, and when, does this sort of thing stop? Woozle after woozle appears with every scholarly turn around the spinney. Pooh-Bear, at least, came to the point of acknowledging that he had been "Foolish and Deluded."

The moral is, that we desperately need a correct edition of the Brontë letters, and then, perhaps, all copies of Shorter, Wise and Symington throughout the land should be committed to a public bonfire, preferably during a THUNDER storm (one set to be retained, as a bibliographical memento).

An annotated literal transcription of Charlotte's letter is appended, by permission of the Library of the University of Manchester. Shorter's innumerable variations in punctuation, capitalization, spelling and other such matters have not been noted, except where the meaning is affected. Charlotte's impetuous dashes have, however, been retained.[8]

I write to you a great many more letters than you write to me— though whether they all reach you or not, Heaven knows. I daresay you will not be without a certain desire to know how our affairs get on — I will give you therefore a notion as briefly as may be. 5

"Acton Bell" has published another book — it is in 3 vols but I do not like it quite as well as "Agnes Grey" the subject not being such as the author had pleasure in handling — it has been praised by some reviews and blamed by others — as yet only £25 have been realized for the copyright — and as "Acton Bell's" publisher is a shuffling scamp — I 10 expect no more.

About 2 months since, I had a letter from my publishers, Smith & Elder — saying that "Jane Eyre" had had a great run in America — and a publisher there had consequently bid high for the first sheets of the next work by "Currer Bell" which they had promised to let him have. 15

Presently after came a second missive from Smith & Elder — all in alarm, suspicion ["s" del] and wrath — their American correspondent had written to them complaining that the first sheets of a new work by "Currer Bell" had been already received and not by their house but by a rival publisher — and asking the meaning of such false play — it inclosed an 20 extract from a letter from Mr Newby (A & E. Bell's publisher) affirming

that to the best of his belief " "Jane Eyre" "Wuthering Heights" — Agnes Grey" — and the "Tenant of Wildfell Hall" (the new work) were all the production of one writer"

This was a lie, as Newby had been told repeatedly that they were 25 the productions of 3 different authors — but the fact was he wanted to make a dishonest move in the game — to make the Public & "the Trade" believe that he had got hold of "Currer Bell" & thus cheat Smith & Elder by securing the American publishers' bid.

The upshot of it was that on the very day I received Smith & Elder's 30 letter — Anne & I packed up a small box, sent it down to Keighley — set out ourselves after tea — walked through a thunderstorm to the station, got to Leeds and whirled up by the Night train to London — with the view of proving our separate identity to Smith & Elder and confronting Newby with his lie — 35

We arrived at the Chapter Coffee House — (our old place Polly — we did not well know where else to go) about eight o'clock in the morning — We washed ourselves — had some breakfast — sat a few minutes and then set of [sic] in queer, inward excitement, to 65. Cornhill. Neither Mr Smith nor Mr Williams knew we were coming they had never seen 40 us — they did not know whether we were men or women — but had always written to us as men.

We found 65 — to be a large bookseller's shop in a street almost as bustling as the Strand — we went in — walked up to the counter — there were a great many young men & lads here and there — I said to the first 45 I could accost — "May I see Mr Smith —?" he hesitated, looked a little surprised — but went to fetch him — We sat down and waited awhile — looking a [sic] some books on the counter — publications of theirs well known to us — of many of which they had sent us copies as presents. At last somebody came up and said dubiously "Did you wish to see me, 50 Madam?" "Is it Mr Smith?" I said looking up through my spectacles at a young, tall, gentlemanly man "It is." I then put his own letter into his hand directed to "Currer Bell." He looked at it — then at me — again — yet again. I laughed at his queer perplexity — A recognition took place — I gave my real name — "Miss Brontë —" We were both hurried from the 55 shop into a little back room — ceiled with a great skylight and only large enough to hold 3 chairs and a desk — and there explanations were rapidly gone into — Mr Newby being anathematized, I fear with undue vehemence. Smith hurried out and returned quickly with one whom he introduced as Mr Williams — a pale, mild, stooping man of fifty — very much like a 60 faded Tom Dixon — Another recognition — a long, nervous shaking of hands — then followed talk — talk — talk — Mr Williams being silent — Mr Smith loquacious —

"Allow me to introduce you to my mother & sisters — How long do you stay in London? You must make the most of the time — to-night you 65

must go to the Italian opera — you must see the Exhibition — Mr Thackeray would be pleased to see you — If Mr Lewes knew "Currer Bell" was in town — he would have to be shut up — I will ask them both to dinner at my house etc." I stopped his projects and discourse by a grave explanation — that though I should very much like to see both Mr Lewes and still 70 more Mr Thackeray — we were as resolved as ever to preserve our incognito — We had only confessed ourselves to our publisher — in order to do away with the inconveniences that had arisen from our too well preserved mystery — to all the rest of the world we must be "gentlemen" as heretofore. 75

Williams understood me directly — Smith comprehended by slower degrees — he did not like the quiet plan — he would have liked some excitement, eclat etc.

He then urged us to meet a literary party incognito — he would introduce us a [sic] "country cousins" The desire to see some of the person- 80 ages whose names he mentioned — kindled in me very strongly — but when I found in further examination that he could not venture to ask such men as Thackeray etc. at a short notice, without giving them a hint as to whom they were to meet, I declined even this — I felt it would have ended in our being made a show of — a thing I have ever resolved to avoid. 85

Then he said we must come and stay at his house — but we were not prepared for a long stay & declined this also — as we took leave — he told us he should bring his sisters to call on us that evening — We returned to our Inn — and I paid for the excitement of the interview by a thundering head-ache & harrassing [sic] sickness — towards evening as I got no 90 ["t" del] better & expected the Smiths to call — I took a strong dose of sal volatile — it roused me a little — still I was in grievous bodily case when they were announced — they came in two elegant, young ladies in full dress — prepared for the Opera — Smith himself in evening costume white gloves etc. a distinguished, handsome fellow enough — We had by no means 95 understood that it was settled that we were to go to the Opera — and were not ready — Moreover we had no fine, elegant dresses either with us or in the world. However on brief rumination, I though [sic] it would be wise to make no objections — I put my head-ache in my pocket — we attired ourselves in the plain — high - made, country garments we possessed 100 — and went with them to their carriage — where we found Williams likewise in full dress. They must have thought us queer, quizzical looking beings — especially me with my spectacles — I smiled inwardly at the contrast which must have been apparent between me and Mr Smith as I walked with him up the crimson carpeted staircase of the Opera 105 House and stood amongst a brilliant throng at the box-door which was not yet open. Fine ladies & gentlemen glanced at us with a slight, graceful superciliousness quite warranted by the circumstances — Still I felt pleasurably excited — in spite of head-ache sickness & conscious clownishness,

and I saw Anne was calm and gentle which she always is — 110

The Performance was Rosini's [sic] opera of the "Barber of Seville —" very brilliant though I fancy there are things I should like better — We got home after one o'clock — We had never been in bed the night before — had been in constant excitement for 24 hours — you may imagine we were tired. 115

The next day — (Sunday) Mr Williams came early to take us to church — he was so quiet but so sincere in his attentions — one could not but have a most friendly leaning towards him — he has a nervous hesitation in speech and a difficulty in finding appropriate language in which to express himself — which throws him into the background in conversation — 120 but I had been his correspondent — and therefore knew with what intelligence he could write — so that I was not in danger of underrating him. In the afternoon — Mr Smith came in his carriage with his Mother — ["and took" del] to take us to his house to dine — I should mention by the way that neither his mother nor his sisters knew who we were — and their 125 strange perplexity would have been ludicrous if one had dared to laugh — To be brought down to a part of the city into whose obscure, narrow streets they said they had never penetrated before — to an old, dark strange-looking Inn — to take up in their fine carriage a couple of odd-looking country-women — to see their elegant, handsome son & brother 130 treating with scrupulous politeness these insignificant spinsters must have puzzled them thoroughly Mr Smith's residence is at Bayswater, 6 miles from Cornhill — a very fine place — the rooms — the drawing-room especially looked splendid to us. There was no company — only his mother his two grown up sisters — and his brother a lad of 12-13 and a 135 little sister — the youngest of the family — very like himself — they are all dark-eyed — dark-haired and have clear & pale faces — the Mother is a portly, handsome woman of her age — and all the children more or less well-looking — one of the daughters decidedly pretty — except that the expression of her countenance — is not equal to the beauty of her 140 features. We had a fine dinner — which neither Anne nor I had appetite to eat — and were glad when it was over — I always feel under awkward constraint at table. Dining-out would be a hideous bore to me.

Mr Smith made himself very pleasant — he is a firm, intelligent man of business though so young — bent on getting on — and I think desirous 145 to make his way by fair, honourable means — he is enterprising — but likewise cool & cautious. Mr Smith is practical man — I wish Mr Williams were more so — but he is altogether of the contemplative, theorizing order — Mr Williams lives too much in abstractions —

On Monday we went to the Exhibition of the Royal Academy — 150 the National Gallery, dined again at Mr Smith's — then went home with Mr Williams to tea — and saw his ["comparatively" inserted above] humble but neat residence and his fine family of eight children — his wife was ill.

A daughter of Leigh Hunts' [sic] was there — she sung some little Italian airs which she had picked up amongst the peasantry in Tuscany, in a 155 manner that charmed me — For herself she was a rattling good-natured personage enough —

On Tuesday morning we left London — laden with books Mr Smith had given us — and got safely home. A more jaded wretch than I looked when I returned, it would be difficult to conceive — I was thin when I 160 went but was meagre indeed when I returned, my face looked grey & very old — with strange, deep lines plough [sic] in it — my eyes stared unnaturally — I was weak and yet restless. In a while however these bad effects of excitement went off and I regained my normal condition — We saw Newby but of him more another t<ime> Good-bye God bless you 165 write CB.

• 2 to you] you SLW
• 2 to me] me SLW
• 7 as well] so well SLW
• 11 expect] expected SL
• 14 the next] a new SLW
• 16 second] another SLW
• 16-17 —all in alarm, suspicion ["s" del] and wrath] om. SLW
• 21 A & E.] A. and C. L
• 24 writer] author LW
• 25 lie] lie SLW
• 27 game—to make] game to make SLW
• 32 thunderstorm] snowstorm SLW
• 35 lie] lie SLW
• 47 —but went to fetch him—] om. SLW
• 50-1 somebody came. . . Madam?"] we were shown up to Mr Smith. SLW
• 52 gentlemanly] om. SLW
• 53-4 —then at me—again—yet again] and then at me again. "Where did you get this?" he said SLW
• 54 queer] om. SLW
• 55-7 both hurried. . . and a desk—] in a small room ceiled with a great skylight, SLW
• 58 fear] fear, SLW
• 64-85 Allow me. . . . resolved to avoid] om. SLW
• 86 Then he] Mr Smith SLW
• 87 leave] our leave SLW
• 94 Smith] Mr Smith SLW
• 95 a distinguished, handsome fellow enough—] om. SLW
• 97 either] om. SLW
• 101 Williams] Mr Williams SLW
• 101-2 likewise in full dress] om. SLW
• 108-9 pleasurably] pleasantly SLW
• 113 before—] before, and SLW
• 116 to take] and took SLW
• 122 underrating] undervaluing SLW
• 124-132 —I should mention. . . . puzzled them thoroughly] om. SLW
• 133 —a very fine place—] om. SLW
• 137 &] om. SLW
• 139-141 —except that. . . features] om. SLW

---

107




• 142 under] under an SLW
• 143 a hideous bore] hideous SLW
• 144-147 —he is a firm. . . . cautious] om. SLW
• 147 practical] a practical SLW
• 149 lives too much in abstractions] has too many abstractions SLW
• 153 —his wife was ill.] om. SLW
• 154 sung] sang SLW
• 155 amongst] among SLW
• 156-7 —For herself. . . enough—] om. SLW
• 158 Mr Smith] which Mr Smith SLW
• 162 plough] The word ends thus at RH margin. SLW supply 'ed'.
• 163 these] the SLW
• 165 Newby] Mr Newby SLW
• 165 t<ime> time SLW

APPENDIX

Mrs Gaskell treated this letter as raw material for her dramatic reconstruction of the experience, but towards the end introduced what purported to be the actual text:

The Life of Charlotte Brontë (1857), II, pp. 69-70.

To this extract, Shorter in 1900 appended the following note:

These words imply that the text which then follows in his footnote is the full and correct text of the original letter.

Notes