George Smith, Charlotte Bronte stood in
front of it and, half playfully, half seriously, shook her fist,
apostrophising its original as 'Thou Titan!'
With all this hero-worship, it may be imagined that no favourable
criticism gave her more unqualified pleasure than that which came from
her 'master,' as she was not indisposed to consider one who was only
seven years her senior, and whose best books were practically
contemporaneous with her own.
TO W. S. WILLIAMS
'HAWORTH, _October_ 28_th_, 1847.
'DEAR SIR,--Your last letter was very pleasant to me to read, and is
very cheering to reflect on. I feel honoured in being approved by
Mr. Thackeray, because I approve Mr. Thackeray. This may sound
presumptuous perhaps, but I mean that I have long recognised in his
writings genuine talent, such as I admired, such as I wondered at and
delighted in. No author seems to distinguish so exquisitely as he
does dross from ore, the real from the counterfeit. I believed too
he had deep and true feelings under his seeming sternness. Now I am
sure he has. One good word from such a man is worth pages of praise
from ordinary judges.
'You are right in having faith in the reality of Helen Burns's
character; she was real enough.
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