wish you did not think me a woman. I wish all reviewers believed
'Currer Bell' to be a man; they would be more just to him. You
will, I know, keep measuring me by some standard of what you deem
becoming to my sex; where I am not what you consider graceful,
you will condemn me. All mouths will be open against that first
chapter; and that first chapter is true as the Bible, nor is it
exceptionable. Come what will, I cannot, when I write, think
always of myself and of what is elegant and charming in
femininity; it is not on those terms, or with such ideas, I ever
took pen in hand: and if it is only on such terms my writing
will be tolerated, I shall pass away from the public and trouble
it no more. Out of obscurity I came, to obscurity I can easily
return. Standing afar off, I now watch to see what will become of
'Shirley.' My expectations are very low, and my anticipations
somewhat sad and bitter; still, I earnestly conjure you to say
honestly what you think; flattery would be worse than vain; there
is no consolation in flattery. As for condemnation I cannot, on
reflection, see why I should much fear it; there is no one but
myself to suffer therefrom, and both happiness and suffering in
this life soon pass away. Wishing you all success in your
Scottish expedition,--I am, dear Sir, yours sincerely,

C. BELL."

Miss Bronte, as we have seen, had been as anxious as ever to
preserve her incognito in "Shirley." She even fancied that there
were fewer traces of a female pen in it than in "Jane Eyre"; and
thus, when the earliest reviews were published, and asserted that
the mysterious writer must be a woman, she was much disappointed.
She especially disliked the lowering of the standard by which to