Weekly Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1853-1861, 1855-05-10
Currer b ell.

The Manchester Guardian has the follow
ing account of the remarkable sisters
These wonderful girls were the daughters
Of a clergyman who, now very aged and intirm,
survives his wife and all his many children.
The name of Bront Gan abreviation of Bron
terre) is Irish, and very ancient. The mother
died many years ago, and several of the chill
dren. When the reading world began TO
have an interest in their existence, there were
three sisters and brother living with their
father at HawOrth, near Keighley, in York
shire. The girls had been out as gOvernesses;
Charlotte mt Brussels, as is no secret to the
readers of "Villette." They rejoiced to meet
again at hOme-Charlottee, Emily and Ann
("Currer" ellis" and "Acton.") In her
obituary notice of her two sisters, "Currer''
reveals something of their process of author
ship, and their experience of failure and sue
cess. How terrible some of their experience
of life was. in the midst of the domestic
freedom of indulgence afforded them by their
Studious father, may be seen by the fearful
representations of masculine nature and char
acter found in the novels and tales of Emily
and Ann. They considered it their duty,
they told us, to present life as they knew 1t;
and they gave us "Wuthering flights" and
"The Tenant of Wiidfell Hail. Such an
experience as this indicates is really perplex-
ing to English people in general; and that we
have to do with it is to bear it in mind when
disposed to pass criticism on the cOarsenesS
which, to a certain degree, pervades the
works Of all the sisters, and the repulsive-
ness which makes the tales by Emily and
Ann really horrible to people who have not
iron nerves.
"Jane Eyre'' was naturally and universally
supposed to be Charlotte herself; but she
always denied it, calmly, cheelfully, and with
the obvious sincerity which characterized all
she said. She declared that there was no
more ground for the assertion than this: She
once told her sisters that they were wrong
even morally wrng-in making their hero
ines beautiful, as a matter of course. They
replied that it was impossible to make hero
inc interesting on other terms. Her answer
was, 81 will prove to you that you are wrong
| l will show You heroine as small and as
/ plain as myself, who shall be as interesting as
any of yours" "Hcnce Jane Eyre" said
she, in telling the anecdote; "but she is not
myself, any further than that" AS the work
went on, the interest deepened to the writer.
When she came to "Thonfeld" she could
not STOP Being short-sighted to excess, she
wrote in little square paper books, held close
to her eyes, and (the first copy in pencil
On she went, writing necessarily for three
weeks; by which time she had carried her
heroine away from Thornield, and was her
self in fever, which compelled her to pause.
The rest was written with less vehemence,
and with more anxious care. The world
adds, with less vigor and interest. She could
CRAFTY her singular reserve in regard to the
publication of this remarkable book. We all
remember how long it was before we could
learn who wrote it, and any particulars of the
writer, when her name was revealed. She
was living among the wild Yorkshire hills,
with a father who was too much absorbed in
I his studies TO notice her occupations; IN q
place where newspapers were never seen, (or
\ where she never saw any,) and in house
where the servants knew nothing about books,
manuscripts, proofs or the post. When she
told her secret to her father, she carried the
book in one hand, and an adverse review in
the other, to save his simple and unworldly
mind from rash expectations of fame and
fortune, which she determined should never
be the aims Of her life. That we have only
had two novels since, shows how deeply
grounded was this resolve.
"Shirley'' was conceived and wrought out
in the midst of fearful domestic griefs. Her
only brother young man OF once splendid
promise which was early blighted, and both
her remaining sisters died in one year. There
was something inexpressibly affecting in the
aspect of the frail little creature who had done
such wonderful things and who was able &c
bear up, with 50 bright an eye and so compos-
ed a countenance, under such a weight o.
sorrow and such a prospect of solitude. In
her deep mourning dress (neat as quakcr's,
with her beautiful hair, smooth and brown,
her fine eyes blazing with meaning and hel
sensible face indicating habit of self control
if not of silence she seemed perfect house
hold image -irresistibly recalling Words.
worth's description of that domestic treasure
And she was this. She was as able at the
needle as at the pen. The household knew the
excellence of her cookery before they heard Of
that of her books.
In so utter a seclusion as she lived INN
those dreary wilds, where she was not strong
enough to roam over the hills; in that retreat
where her studious father rarelysbroke the
silence-and there was no one else to do it,
in that forlon house, planted on the very
clay of the churchyard, where the graves Of
her sisters were before her window; in such g
living sepulchre, her mind could not but prey
+ upon itself; and how it did suffer we see in
the more painful portions of her last novel
"Villette" She said with change in hel
steady countenance, that she should feel very
} lonely when her aged father died. But she
formed new ties after that. She married; and
it is her old father who survives TO mourn her
He knows, to his comfort, that it is not fol
long Others now mourn her, in domestic
sense and, as for the public, there can be nc
, doubt that pang will be felt in the midst Of
the strongest interests of the day, through
the length and breadth of the land; and il
the very heart of Germany, (where her works
are singularly appreciated) France, and
America, that the Courier Bell" who so late
ly stole as sshadow into the the field of con
temporary literature has already become ;
shadow again-vanished from our view, anC
henceforth haunting only the memory of tn,
multitudes whose expectation was fixed upor
her.