My object in writing the following pages was not simply to amusethe Reader; neither was it to gratify my own taste, nor yet toingratiate myself with the Press and the Public: I wished to tellthe truth, for truth always conveys its own moral to those who areable to receive it. But as the priceless treasure too frequentlyhides at the bottom of a well, it needs some courage to dive forit, especially as he that does so will be likely to incur morescorn and obloquy for the mud and water into which he has venturedto plunge, than thanks for the jewel he procures; as, in likemanner, she who undertakes the cleansing of a careless bachelor'sapartment will be liable to more abuse for the dust she raises thancommendation for the clearance she effects. Let it not beimagined, however, that I consider myself competent to reform theerrors and abuses of society, but only that I would fain contributemy humble quota towards so good an aim; and if I can gain thepublic ear at all, I would rather whisper a few wholesome truthstherein than much soft nonsense.

As the story of 'Agnes Grey' was accused of extravagant over-colouring in those very parts that were carefully copied from thelife, with a most scrupulous avoidance of all exaggeration, so, inthe present work, I find myself censured for depicting CON AMORE,with 'a morbid love of the coarse, if not of the brutal,' thosescenes which, I will venture to say, have not been more painful forthe most fastidious of my critics to read than they were for me todescribe. I may have gone too far; in which case I shall becareful not to trouble myself or my readers in the same way again;but when we have to do with vice and vicious characters, I maintainit is better to depict them as they really are than as they wouldwish to appear. To represent a bad thing in its least offensivelight is, doubtless, the most agreeable course for a writer offiction to pursue; but is it the most honest, or the safest? Is itbetter to reveal the snares and pitfalls of life to the young andthoughtless traveller, or to cover them with branches and flowers?Oh, reader! if there were less of this delicate concealment offacts - this whispering, 'Peace, peace,' when there is no peace,there would be less of sin and misery to the young of both sexeswho are left to wring their bitter knowledge from experience.

I would not be understood to suppose that the proceedings of theunhappy scapegrace, with his few profligate companions I have hereintroduced, are a specimen of the common practices of society - thecase is an extreme one, as I trusted none would fail to perceive;but I know that such characters do exist, and if I have warned onerash youth from following in their steps, or prevented onethoughtless girl from falling into the very natural error of myheroine, the book has not been written in vain. But, at the sametime, if any honest reader shall have derived more pain thanpleasure from its perusal, and have closed the last volume with adisagreeable impression on his mind, I humbly crave his pardon, forsuch was far from my intention; and I will endeavour to do betteranother time, for I love to give innocent pleasure. Yet, be itunderstood, I shall not limit my ambition to this - or even toproducing 'a perfect work of art': time and talents so spent, Ishould consider wasted and misapplied. Such humble talents as Godhas given me I will endeavour to put to their greatest use; if I amable to amuse, I will try to benefit too; and when I feel it myduty to speak an unpalatable truth, with the help of God, I WILLspeak it, though it be to the prejudice of my name and to thedetriment of my reader's immediate pleasure as well as my own.

One word more, and I have done. Respecting the author's identity,I would have it to he distinctly understood that Acton Bell isneither Currer nor Ellis Bell, and therefore let not his faults beattributed to them. As to whether the name be real or fictitious,it cannot greatly signify to those who know him only by his works.As little, I should think, can it matter whether the writer sodesignated is a man, or a woman, as one or two of my criticsprofess to have discovered. I take the imputation in good part, asa compliment to the just delineation of my female characters; andthough I am bound to attribute much of the severity of my censorsto this suspicion, I make no effort to refute it, because, in myown mind, I am satisfied that if a book is a good one, it is sowhatever the sex of the author may be. All novels are, or shouldbe, written for both men and women to read, and I am at a loss toconceive how a man should permit himself to write anything thatwould be really disgraceful to a woman, or why a woman should becensured for writing anything that would be proper and becoming fora man.

JULY 22nd, 1848.