Ghent University
Faculty of Arts and Philosophy
“How different men were to women!”:
Elizabeth Gaskell and Victorian Authorship
Dissertation submitted in partial
fulfilment of the requirements for
the degree of “Master in de TaalSupervisor:
en Letterkunde: Engels” by Rynn
Prof. Dr. Marysa Demoor
Van Bockstaele
May 2015
Van Bockstaele 2
Acknowledgements
In retrospect, a bachelor paper does seem child’s play compared to a master dissertation.
Fortunately, in my case my bachelor paper was only the stepping stone, the first stage of a more
in-depth analysis of a nineteenth-century author whom I have grown to appreciate and admire,
namely Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell. In my bachelor paper, which was entitled “A Woman
Writing About Women: The Representation of Women in Elizabeth Gaskell’s Novels”, I
examined how the female protagonists in Gaskell’s novels were portrayed. That is, Gaskell
provided the nineteenth-century reader with women who were independent, strong-minded and
determined to be heard, much to the astonishment of the men involved, both fictional and in
reality. In my master dissertation, however, I wanted to explore the non-fictional side of
Gaskell’s life.
For this dissertation, I have had the utmost pleasure to work with Prof. Demoor once
again. I am still grateful for her advice, and her knowledge simply astonishes me. A word of
appreciation is reserved for my parents, my sister, and my friends as well. Writing a master
dissertation is anything but a straightforward task, but accommodating someone who is in the
process of writing one seemed to be much more laborious at times. You have all been of
monumental importance for the completion of this dissertation.
It seems quite lofty to end my acknowledgements with a quote by a Nobel Peace Prize
winner. However, the late Dag Hammarskjöld’s words convey both my appreciation of what
has been and my hopes of what is still to come in a simplistic, yet compelling manner;
“For all that has been — Thanks. For all that shall be — Yes.”1
1
This quote was retrieved from a novel by Sheila Walsh, of which the details can be found in the bibliography.
Van Bockstaele 3
Table of Contents
Introduction _______________________________________________________________ 4
Nineteenth-Century Authorship ______________________________________________ 9
The Dichotomy Between Male and Female Authorship __________________________ 18
Elizabeth Gaskell and Authorship ____________________________________________ 34
Elizabeth Gaskell and Charles Dickens _______________________________________ 43
The Start of Their Contact __________________________________________________ 43
Disagreement about Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South _________________________ 50
The End of Their Liaison __________________________________________________ 56
Elizabeth Gaskell and Charlotte Brontë _______________________________________ 59
The Start of Their Mutual Appreciation _______________________________________ 59
The Writing of The Life of Charlotte Brontë ___________________________________ 66
Criticism on The Life of Charlotte Brontë _____________________________________ 70
Conclusion _______________________________________________________________ 82
Bibliography _____________________________________________________________ 85
Appendix ________________________________________________________________ 90
1. Letter to Catherine Winkworth, 25 August 1850 _____________________________ 90
2. Letter to Charlotte Froude, 25 August 1850 _________________________________ 94
3. Letter to George Smith, 4 June 1855 ______________________________________ 95
4. Letter to Ellen Nussey, 16 June 1857 ______________________________________ 98
(26.240 words)
Van Bockstaele 4
Introduction
In her analytical work Daily Life of Victorian Women (2014) Lydia Murdoch comments that;
What all Victorian woman shared [...] was not any natural or biological or even
historical commonality, but rather the condition of their legal, social, and economic
subjugation. Within this framework, women’s experiences differed immensely as they
constantly negotiated between society’s expectations of a woman’s nature and the
circumstances of their own lives (xvii-xviii).
Victorian women were not at all free; they were excluded from many aspects of daily life in
such a way that they would nowadays be seen as an oppressed minority group. As Bedrani
summarises; “[t]he status of women during the Victorian Era was viewed as an illustration of
the striking inconsistency between England’s national power and wealth and its atrocious social
conditions” (39). Bedrani continues, explaining that there was a juxtaposition between Queen
Victoria, who was considered an iconic image of family values and virtue and who had
considerable power, and the persisting image of women as angels in the house without any
privileges or rights. This saint-like notion of women was a widespread idea which was
incredibly difficult to abandon and which lessened women’s influence notably. As Bedrani
observes; “[t]hey were treated to be saints, but saints that had no legal rights” (39). Victorian
women were not allowed to vote, nor were they entitled to any property as their assets were
transferred from their father’s possession to that of their husband’s. Marriage was above all
things something to strive for and maintaining the household was considered to be one of the
only jobs a woman could execute properly. It was by all means a paradoxical period, where a
woman was the icon of a vast country which included many colonies, yet at the same time all
other women of Victorian society did not possess any resources to enhance or escape their
subordinate positions.
Van Bockstaele 5
This master dissertation will focus on one particular aspect of the status of women,
namely how they were perceived in the literary field. More specifically, this thesis will examine
how Elizabeth Gaskell, a Victorian novelist, was affected by literary society in the nineteenth
century and how Gaskell tried to overcome the imposed restrictions. The question of this
dissertation is the following; “How is Gaskell’s relationship with Charles Dickens and Charlotte
Brontë respectively a reflection of the double standards that existed in connection to Victorian
authorship?”. Elizabeth Gaskell was not the kind of person whose independence was easily
thwarted, something which will be researched in this master dissertation as well. Nevertheless,
she was still a product of her time; a loving wife and mother of four beautiful daughters who
above all had the duty to manage her household. This aspect of her life was observed by
Hopkins;
As the wife of a prominent city minister, she had church and charity obligations. She
had four young daughters to bring up, and she did a great deal of entertaining. The
Gaskell home at Plymouth Grove was the social and literary center of Manchester. She
had enough to fill her life quite apart from her writing (374-375).
Thus, some influence was in all likelihood exerted as she had an image to uphold as the
companion of a respected Unitarian cleric and as a mother of four children. However, this
dissertation will reveal that this influence was not overpowering, and that Gaskell certainly left
her mark on the literary field in the nineteenth century. It might as well be a case of Elizabeth
Gaskell being both influencer and subject of influence when it comes to Victorian authorship
and the literary field in the nineteenth century.
This dissertation will begin by exploring Victorian authorship and publishing in general.
That is, what were common practices and what the concept of authorship in nineteenth-century
Britain entailed will be analysed. In addition, whether there were any differences between male
and female authorship will be examined as well. The Victorian period was not a time in which
Van Bockstaele 6
female emancipation was greatly encouraged, which was also perceived by the women writers
themselves, and which has already been articulated by numerous scholars, for example Nicola
Diane Thompson;
The lives and the fictions of Victorian women writers reveal endlessly contradictory
perspectives on the woman question. All Victorian women novelists, whether we now
label them radical or conservative, were fundamentally conflicted in their own beliefs
about women’s proper role [...] (3).
More specifically, Elizabeth Gaskell’s position in this debate will be analysed, as she was a
renowned author who, like many of the female protagonists portrayed in her novels, was
unwilling to accommodate to every man’s desires and demands. How she herself perceived the
dichotomy between men and women is an aspect which could not be overlooked in this analysis.
In the following chapters, Elizabeth Gaskell’s relationship with other authors will be explored,
as her affiliation with men and women differed considerably. These different relationships
might also unravel Gaskell’s ideas concerning the place of women in literary circles. More
specifically, how she was connected to Charles Dickens, who at one point was her editor, and
Charlotte Brontë, of whom she wrote a well-known biography, will the main focus of these
chapters. Integrating these particular authors in this master dissertation was not a difficult
decision, as Gaskell’s relationship with both of them was not without the occasional struggle.
In addition, all three authors were interested in the emancipation of women and the betterment
of working conditions, which they addressed in their fictional work. This was also articulated
by, for example, Annette B. Hopkins in her essay “Dickens and Mrs. Gaskell” (1946), and by
Linda H. Peterson in her article “Triangulation, Desire, and Discontent in ‘The Life of Charlotte
Brontë’” (2007);
Van Bockstaele 7
Dickens was first attracted to the work of Mrs. Gaskell through their common interest
in the problems of young girls as the victims of sex immorality and the problems of
industry as they affected the living and working conditions of the laborer (Hopkins 357).
More skeptical or hostile analyses [still] acknowledge the connection between the two
writers [Elizabeth Gaskell and Charlotte Brontë;] their mutual interest in women,
factory workers, and social reform; their identification with northern concerns such as
manufacturing and industry and their embrace of a “parallel currents” model of
authorship, with the “woman” and the “author” as fulfilling two different, if important,
roles (Peterson 901).
This complete analysis will be supported by numerous sources of various scholars, as well as
Gaskell’s own personal correspondence. Gaskell’s own thoughts and opinions are an insightful
source of information regarding her own perspective on authorship. After all, it is not
preposterous to assume that in her personal writing she would and could be honest and
straightforward, without any scruples or without feeling the need to withhold anything from the
recipient. Her letters are a valuable source as they demonstrate how “new social values were
gradually evolving” (Chapple and Sharps xvi);
The correspondence reveals [...] ‘the emergent consciousness of the age’, often
implicitly and accidentally. She was more responsive to various forces for change and
more in tune with the actual movement of history than she can always have realised as
she penned these lively pages to friends and relations. No reader of her fiction will be
at all surprised to find how sensitive she was to the complex movement of the human
spirit in time and place: it is one of her major themes. But to this movement her letters
are more informal and, on occasions, far more subtle witnesses (Chapple and Sharps
xvi-xvii).
Van Bockstaele 8
After the final recapitulation and conclusion, I hope to have provided an analysis of the ‘author’
Elizabeth Gaskell and her position in Victorian literary circles and, on a more general note, of
the place of all female authors in the nineteenth century, and the correlation with their male
counterparts.
Van Bockstaele 9
Nineteenth-Century Authorship
When an author was finally regarded as someone with an esteemed professional occupation in
the nineteenth century, several people from different stations and professions had discussed the
validity and worth of such a vocation. In this chapter, how authorship was considered in
nineteenth-century Britain will be analysed. More specifically, which factors contributed to the
emergence of a legitimate interest in the profession of an author and, subsequently, to the
authorisation and acceptation of the literary profession will be the focus of this chapter.
Furthermore, a brief glimpse will already be shed upon the difference between men and women
by means of looking at the emergence of a “man of letters”; this concept was another step
towards the legitimatisation of the professional author.
The Victorian era was a period of transition, a period in which economic and social
development and innovation was omnipresent. However, there were clear distinctions between
the early years of the Victorian period and the later period of Queen Victoria’s reign. This
dichotomy highlights Queen Victoria’s success concerning the enhancement of economic,
political and social conditions. The early Victorian period (1830-1848) was considered a ‘Time
of Troubles’ in which the living and work conditions of many people were below par. This in
contrast to the mid-Victorian period (1848-1870) which introduced many improvements. The
eagerness for advancement and betterment of living circumstances in the mid-Victorian period
culminated in the Great Exhibition of 1851, which was held in the Crystal Palace at Hyde Park,
London. Even though it is often thought that the Great Exhibition was centred around British
successes, it actually displayed accomplishments from different nations. However, the common
misunderstanding to attribute the whole exhibition to Britain is not peculiar by any means, as
its main goal was to accentuate the importance and virility of the British Nation as a whole,
with Queen Victoria at the centre. Therefore, in such a time of diversity and developments, a
transformation in the literary field was to be expected as well.
Van Bockstaele 10
In nineteenth-century Britain, the profession of an author became prominent at the same
time when the middle class was established. The emergence of such a middle class was only
one aspect of ever-changing and ever-developing Britain in the nineteenth century. Whereas in
the eighteenth century poetry was most appreciated, in the nineteenth century the importance
and the popularity of the novel rose. This was, for example, made possible by an expansion of
readership, which can be attributed to educational improvements and other inventions, such as
the gas light. Moreover, the purpose of literature developed in the Victorian period; literature
became a lucrative industry aimed at the acquisition of profit. Novels had usurped poetry as the
main literary occupation, which steered the attention away from the contemplations of a solitary
genius in a poetic form. In addition, authorship and the writing process was, in contrast to other
fields such as religion and mathematics, a subject in which quantity overruled quality. This
demand for literature stimulated many renowned authors to increase their productivity (Miles
14), which subsequently enabled the increase of literary production. Consequently, readership
increased since there was so much material available.2 Another major factor which made a
metamorphosis in literature possible was the production process. That is, innovations of the
printing press made the printing and production of literature much easier, which also meant it
could be distributed faster. What is more, as Nayder also notes, writers could now live solely
off their pen without having to be dependent on another source of income. Furthermore, the
system of patronage – in which a wealthy aristocrat acted as a sponsor and which was especially
popular in the eighteenth century – could be abandoned as well (16). Nayder provides some
2
Anthony Trollope is a prime example of a Victorian author who favoured quantity over quality. He wrote
approximately ten thousand words a week, which he also combined with his Post Office career. Trollope can be
seen as an illustration of the importance of industry in the Victorian era. In his lifetime, he wrote forty-seven
novels, eighteen non-fiction books, ten short story collections and two plays (Claes).
Van Bockstaele 11
supplementary reasons as to why the emergence of authorship in the nineteenth century was
successful;
Whatever the particular arrangements the writers made, their profession was made
possible by technical innovation that dramatically lowered publication costs, by the
serialization of fiction in cheap monthly numbers and in weekly and monthly
periodicals, and by the development of a mass reading public willing to purchase or
borrow newly affordable literary commodities (16).
Nayder’s observations are echoed by an essay written by George Henry Lewes; “The
Conditions of Authors in England, Germany, and France”, published in Fraser’s Magazine in
1847. In his article, Lewes attributed the success of the professional author’s legitimisation to
the rising importance of the periodical press, as it enabled authors to publish their work, to earn
a decent living, and to make themselves known;
The real cause we take to be the excellence and abundance of periodical literature. It is
by our reviews, magazines, and journals, that the vast majority of professional authors
earn their bread; and the astonishing mass of talent and energy which is thus thrown into
periodical literature is [...] owing to the certainty of moderate yet, on the whole,
sufficient remuneration (288-289).
Nayder cites different scholars who aligned the work of a Victorian author with that of factory
workers; the same workers Elizabeth Gaskell pleaded for in her fictional work. For example,
Norman N. Feltes saw the nineteenth-century writer as an integral part of capitalism; “The
writer’s work was produced in a journal within relations of production analogous to those
prevailing in a textile mill. […] “fiction writers entered their pages as hand-loom weavers
entered a factory” (qtd. in Nayder 17). Mary Poovey’s point of view is similar to that of Feltes,
as she stated that the writing process in the Victorian period resembled “factorylike conditions”
Van Bockstaele 12
(qtd. in Nayder 17). To align the work of an author with that of a factory worker is peculiar, in
the sense that in the nineteenth century the profession of an author was not fully established
yet. Nevertheless, the work of an author was compared to a vocation that was commonplace.
However, this association between factory workers and aspiring authors was not completely
fallacious, as both groups had to work arduously. This was especially accurate for women
writers, who often had to combine their literary aspirations with their daily domestic
responsibilities and the management of their households (cf. infra). Success was not always
guaranteed, and Palmer attributes other factors to the possible triumph or failure in the literary
field, such as “age, experience, class, family connections, and the genre a writer used” (5).
However, the main component that would open the debate of the professionalisation of
authorship in the nineteenth century was the remuneration an author could potentially receive.
More specifically, if an author’s fee was high enough for authorship to be considered a
professional occupation was a critical contemplation. As Peterson in Becoming a Woman of
Letters (2009) summarises;
Yet whether authorship was or, indeed, should be considered a profession – equal to
that of law, or medicine, the military or the clergy – was a hotly debated question in the
nineteenth century. In the early decades, the profession of authorship, for both men and
women writers, was neither assumed nor assured (1).
As Peterson already observes, authorship was not comparable to other professional fields such
as law or medicine. Those vocations were common and socially accepted activities in the
nineteenth century. What furthered this dichotomy was the observation that authors’ payment
was at first not substantial enough for them to survive. This meant that it could not be seen as
a proper profession for Victorian standards. The main objective for the Victorian population
was to earn a living, to provide for themselves and for their families. The reluctance to view an
author as a professional body can be understood, as at first authors did not meet the requirements
Van Bockstaele 13
which would enable them to maintain a household. However, it seems that even the ability to
earn a living and thus provide for a certain standard of living did not suffice either to award
them the accompanied status. The distinction between accepted professions and that of an
author was not bridged simply by reaching the financial threshold. As Peterson notes, it was
not until the 1820s and 1830s – when periodicals came to prominence – that authors received
some compensation for their writing; “20, 30, and even 40 guineas per sheet [...], with payments
of £100 or more per article to famous authors and annual salaries of £500, £600, or more for
editors” (Becoming a Woman of Letters 1). With these fees, writers who aspired to earn their
living by their writing could maintain their lifestyle as gentlemen; “and this financial basis
propelled the development of authorship as profession” (Becoming a Woman of Letters 2).
However, the ability to finance a certain lifestyle did not automatically signify that authors
obtained “the status of a middle-class professional” (Becoming a Woman of Letters 2); there
were still other discrepancies which restricted authors’ possibility to obtain the same
professional level as, for example, doctors and lawyers. That is, in addition to the economic
component and the sheer money-making-business, “linguistic, social, and intellectual
distinctions” (Becoming a Woman of Letters 2) were also considered.
This attempt at professionalisation was further complicated by the difference between a
profession and a trade. That is, a profession was regarded as an occupation of someone who
had profound knowledge of a certain subject which was then employed to benefit others. In
contrast, the definition of a trade was considerably less refined, as it was simply “a business
that manufactures or sells some object or commodity” (Becoming a Woman of Letters 3).
Writers dreaded the possibility of being associated with the concept of trade, even though they
dealt with the exchange of commodities – articles, novels, essays – and had to maintain a
relationship with their publishers. Their solution to this possible comparison was simple, as
they “[referred] to authorship as a “profession” and to publishing or bookselling as “the
Van Bockstaele 14
trade””(Becoming a Woman of Letters 2), in effect creating a distance between the two
vocations. However, this attempted division was not as uncomplicated as authors had hoped
for. This dichotomy between a trade and a profession had nothing to do with the idea of wealth
that was inherently linked to other vocations. Ironically, publishers were often more prosperous
than writers, who simply had middle-class incomes. Rather, as Peterson asserts, it had to do
with “a conception of the author as, in Wordsworth’s phrase, ‘a man speaking to men’”
(Becoming a Woman of Letters 2). Finally, in his essay of 1847, Lewes stated that “[l]iterature
should be a profession, not a trade” (285). Furthermore, writers made even more subdivisions;
authors were regarded as literary talents, whereas “hacks” were simply men who produced
copies for the printing press. The mere existence of such distinctions highlights the “uncertainty
about whether authors might legitimately claim membership in a ‘profession of letters’”
(Becoming a Woman of Letters 2).
Essentially, whether authorship should be regarded as a leisurely activity or as an official
vocation was thus the main concern. This is where the phrase “man of letters” comes in, a
concept which had already been introduced in the eighteenth century and the beginning of the
nineteenth century. However, the underlying connotation of “a man of letters” was less
professional then as it would become in the nineteenth century. Before the nineteenth century,
a “man of letters” was regarded as “a gentleman [who] could pursue his study, reading, and
writing in leisure hours […] simply a scholar, a man of learning […]” (Becoming a Woman of
Letters 3). It was not until the latter part of the nineteenth century that “a man of letters” would
be interchangeable with the notion of a “professional author”, a title which was awarded to
those who had “achieved [both] literary distinction [and] financial success” (Becoming a
Woman of Letters 3). An example of how a “man of letters” was initially perceived in the
nineteenth century can be illustrated by means of an essay by Thomas Carlyle. In “On Heroes,
Van Bockstaele 15
Hero-Worship, and the Heroic in History” and, more specifically, in his essay “The Hero as a
Man of Letters” (1841), Carlyle noted that:
Hero-Gods, Prophets, Poets, Priests are forms of Heroism that belong to the old ages,
make their appearance in the remotest times; some of them have ceased to be possible
long since, and cannot any more show themselves in this world. The Hero as Man of
Letters, again, of which class we are to speak to-day, is altogether a product of these
new ages; and so long as the wondrous art of Writing, or of Ready-writing which we
call Printing, subsists, he may be expected to continue, as one of the main forms of
Heroism for all future ages. He is, in various respects, a very singular phenomenon.
Carlyle elaborated on this statement, as he articulated that this particular idea of a “man of
letters” was to be aligned with, or was at least comparable to, a Romantic writer. This “man of
letters” supposedly was a solitary genius who was not to be affiliated with non-literary aspects,
such as the idea of remuneration;
[…] royal or parliamentary grants of money are by no means the chief thing wanted! To
give our Men of Letters stipends, endowments and all furtherance of cash, will do little
towards the business. On the whole, one is weary of hearing about the omnipotence of
money. I will say rather that, for a genuine man, it is no evil to be poor; that there ought
to be Literary Men poor,—to show whether they are genuine or not!
However, as observed by Joanne Shattock in Elizabeth Gaskell: Victorian Culture, and the Art
of Fiction (2010), the concept of “man of letters” developed throughout the nineteenth century,
and Victorian writers were not to be conflated with their Romantic predecessors. Victorian
writers generally adopted a more professional stance towards the writing process. Moreover,
whereas Carlyle still claimed that the acceptance of fees was not at all fundamental for a “man
of letters”, it seems that in reality authors became more attentive and were more and more
Van Bockstaele 16
earning a living solely by means of their writings, and in doing so, trying to claim a professional
status (30). In the middle of the nineteenth century, Lewes asserted that the professional
authorship had been institutionalised; “Bad or good, there is no evading the ‘great fact,’ now
that [the professionalisation of literature] is so firmly established. We may deplore, but we
cannot alter it. Declamation in such a cause is, therefore, worse than idle” (285). However, that
this institutionalisation did not spare authors from other hardships is apparent; “Literature is a
profession in which the author has not only to struggle against his brother authors, but also a
against a host of interlopers” (294). Interestingly enough, Lewes only described the “man of
letters” in his first essay, effectively leaving out women writers. For women writers, Lewis
wrote a separate essay entitled “The Lady Novelists” (1852). The title immediately accentuated
Lewes’s own perspective regarding the value of women’s writing, which he opposed to the
effort of their male counterparts simply by not including them in his initial essay in the first
place. Lewes’s views will be incorporated in the following chapter as well, as his second essay
is a clear indication of how the segregation of women was an integral component of Victorian
society. Furthermore, the division between the “man of letters” and “the woman of letters” will
be analysed in the following chapter. While men did not have to re-invent themselves multiple
times, women were not so fortunate. It seems as if every generation and every century had its
problems with the appropriate position for women. As Miles summarises; “Criticism seems to
have had to come to terms with women writers in every new age, treating each fresh generation
of women writers as if they were the first of their sex to pick up the pen” (14).
The development and recognition of professional authorship in the nineteenth century
was fraught with problems, limitations, and disputes. Questions regarding the validity of
professional authors’ work and the compensation they would receive were considered
throughout the nineteenth century. Although eventually authorship generated an acceptable
financial guarantee, that did not diminish the obstacles for women writers who tried to obtain a
Van Bockstaele 17
similar status as their male counterparts. Women writers were disadvantaged as many restraints
were imposed on them, which left them unable to write freely. In the following chapter, the
division between male writers and their female counterparts will be considered.
Van Bockstaele 18
The Dichotomy Between Male and Female Authorship
It was Virginia Woolf who in her essay of 1929 entitled “A Room of One’s Own” observed
that “[...] —a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction; and
that, as you will see, leaves the great problem of the true nature of woman and the true nature
of fiction unsolved”. In the twentieth century, the appropriation of what was considered a male
profession by women was still not fully accepted, and Woolf subsequently pleaded for women
to have a space of their own to satisfy their literary aspirations and ambitions. Woolf felt that
women were confined in their possibilities to achieve literary fame, a problem which was left
unresolved in the previous century as well, and which continued to exist throughout the
twentieth century. In this particular chapter, the division between men and women in the
nineteenth century will be analysed by, for example, referring to the existence of separate
spheres for each sex. How male and female writers were perceived, received, and evaluated
differently due to their different places in society will also be explored. Furthermore, the
domestic Victorian ideal of the “angel in the house” and its consequences for women writers is
another aspect that will be analysed. In addition, the circumstances that enabled women writers
to write is another component of this chapter, which will be followed by difficulties that
diminished women’s prospect of success by means of different essays which reflect the biased
standards of evaluation.
In nineteenth-century Britain, the division between male and female traits was so
normalised that there was a distinction between the public, male-dominated sphere and the
domestic, private sphere which women were supposed to inhabit. The Victorian perspective
was clearly not as advanced and progressive as that of Judith Butler, who in her book Gender
Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (1990) coined the term ‘gender
performativity’; a concept which refers to the performative quality of gender, rather than gender
being an innate and static notion. In the Victorian era, however, the concept of gender fluidity
Van Bockstaele 19
and performativity was not even up for debate, and there were clear distinctions between men
and women. The dichotomy between men and women fuelled the oppression of women and
added to the pressure women must have felt to uphold the iconic image of the “angel in the
house”.3 This ideal of the “angel in the house” is one of the persisting images of the nineteenth
century, as it is a clear statement and, moreover, a confirmation of the influence and control of
the Victorian men on women. This ideal which is correlated to the subjugation of Victorian
women entails a paradoxical belief;
As an “angel in the house,” woman has been credited with natural goodness, an innate
allegiance to “a law of kindness.” But this same description extols her infantile, weak,
and mindless – a creature in constant need of male supervision and protection. […] The
alleged angel was an image that all Victorian women were supposed to internalize
(Noddings 59).
On the one hand, women were supposed to embrace all pure characteristics of altruism and
graciousness. These requirements, however, rendered them as figures who were seemingly
unable to handle any responsibility, which subsequently consolidated men’s beliefs that women
should not have any responsibilities outside the domestic domain.
However, even though the “angel of the house” was a domestic ideal which gained
recognition during the nineteenth century, that did not preclude criticism on and controversy of
this much-applied quintessential image of women. The image of a dutiful woman was puzzling
at times, since its origins were diametrically opposed to what it became in the nineteenth
century. This confusing image was addressed by Mary Poovey in her novel Uneven
3
It is important to implement some nuance to this image, as naturally not all women were restricted to the domestic
sphere. That is, nurses, women of the working class, and prostitutes had no other choice but to play an active role
in the male-dominated public sphere if they were to have any chance of surviving.
Van Bockstaele 20
Developments: The Ideological Work of Gender in Mid-Victorian England (1988), in which she
observes that besides the preferred pure and virginal representation of women, a more sexual
impression had existed. The Victorian notion of the “angel in the house” had been preceded by
a more sexual interpretation;
As late as the 1740s, woman was consistently represented as the site of wilful sexuality
and bodily appetite: […] women were associated with flesh, desire, and unsocialized,
hence susceptible, impulses and passions. [...] the eighteenth century witnessed the
gradual transformation of this sexualized image of woman as wilful flesh into the
domestic ideal [...]. In the process, woman became not some errant part of man, but his
opposite, his moral hope and spiritual guide (9-10).
In the course of one century, the image of women developed from that of sexual figures to that
of wilful, tolerant and yielding characters whose opinions were not acknowledged nor
welcomed. Women’s positions in nineteenth-century society was anything but effortless, as
they had to conform to many regulations and guidelines which significantly reduced their
autonomy and which annihilated their authority. The concept of independence was
consequentially fundamentally devoid of meaning for women in the nineteenth century. The
result of this continuous oppression was that women had to tiptoe around their male
counterparts, as they feared retaliation or even exclusion from social circles.
The difference in assessment between men and women also had its consequences for
women in the literary circles. Miles summarises this juxtaposition as followed; “[t]he sex of a
novelist is always in question somewhere, sometime, in the course of the critical response – the
sex of a woman novelist, that is. Whatever a woman produces as a writer, she is still judged as
a woman” (5). Not surprisingly, perhaps, women novelists often chose male pseudonyms for
the publication of their writings. As Judd initially notes; “[…] male pseudonyms offered a way
for women to overcome the prejudices of the marketplace” (250). Furthermore, the mere
Van Bockstaele 21
appropriation of male pseudonyms supports the idea that women writers were repressed in their
literary freedom. However, Judd is sceptical of the apparent adoption of male pseudonyms, as
many women did not actually employ pseudonyms for their work. Even more so, as she further
asserts that men more often than women opted for pseudonyms. Additionally, when women
used an alternative name, they embraced “a pseudonym from their own gender [rather] than to
cross over” (250). However, this observation is not echoed by Carol Poster, who in her article
“Oxidization Is a Feminist Issue: Acidity, Canonicity, and Popular Victorian Female Authors”
(1996) asserts that women such as the Brontë sisters only continued to be analysed after their
death due to the fact that their male pseudonyms separated them from other women novelists;
“The Brontës and Eliot, whose fiction has been accepted as ‘literary,’ wrote under male
pseudonyms, thus distinguishing their work from that of popular women novelists. Nineteenthcentury cross-dressing has resulted in twentieth-century canonicity” (288). Paradoxically,
women are often excluded in scholarly fields, as scholars seem to have a preference to analyse
men, even though the amount of fiction written by women compares to that of their male
counterparts4. The difference in perception and evaluation was not solely employed in the
nineteenth century, as it extended to the next centuries as well, even though female-oriented
literary research has increased in recent years. Although it is true that many women did not use
male pseudonyms, well-known authors who are still researched today often did, the Brontës
and George Eliot being prime examples. Moreover, fictional work written by women writers
were valued differently as they were placed in entirely different categories than the work of
male authors. That is, as Patsy Stoneman in Elizabeth Gaskell (1987) mentions, the gender of
a particular author was a key component for the assessment of his or her writings. Whereas
“sentiment, refinement, [and] tact” were seen as female traits, the work of male authors was
4
Carol Poster proves this by referring to John Sutherland's 1989 guide to Victorian fiction, in which 878 of the
novelists who are included in his work, 312 are women writers (287).
Van Bockstaele 22
supposed to be concerned with “power, learning and experience” (3). This is also observed by
Ferris, as men’s interests were “intellect, imagination, and breadth”, in contrast to women who
were supposed to occupy themselves with notions of “emotion, fancy, and close observation”
(qtd. in Jakubowski 35). Reviews and criticism were clearly stained with prejudices of gender.
As summarised by Cheryl A. Wilson, the notion of gender adds to the complexity of evaluation
and “the acts of literary reviewing and canon formation” (59). Wilson recalls Nicola Diane
Thompson’s study5, in which Thompson comments that “[g]ender was not only an analytical
category used by Victorian reviewers to conceptualize, interpret, and evaluate novels, but in
some cases the primary category” (59). The biased reception of women writers is also reflected
in the observation that even though the work of women writers was diverse, critical reception
assumed there were multiple similarities. Critics seemed to conclude that women’s fictional
work was identical irrespective of their clearly differing plots and developments, simply
because the narratives were written by women writers. Additionally, the work of women was
critiqued in terms of what it should not be, rather than asserting what it should comprise, again
limiting the possibilities of women writers;
Although varied in nature and content, critical reviews of nineteenth-century women’s
writing do share some commonalities, including an articulation of “ideal” women’s
writing, comparisons to male writers, and attention to subject matter and the condition
of women. Ideas of what women’s writing should be are often expressed through a
criticism of what it should not be […] (Wilson 62).
5
This refers to Thompson’s novel Reviewing Sex: Gender and the Reception of Victorian Novels (1996). The page
number attached to the quote refers to Cheryl A. Wilson’s article “Placing the Margins: Literary Review,
Pedagogical Practices, and the Canon of Victorian Women’s Writing” (2009).
Van Bockstaele 23
The dichotomy between male and female authorship prevailed in the nineteenth-century
societal point of view and attempts to dismantle the segregation of women and the annihilation
of the separate spheres were thwarted. This system of isolation was so ingrained in the minds
of both men and women, consequently making it extremely difficult to surmount. A concept
like the “woman of letters” surfaced analogue with its male counterpart, “the man of letters”
(cf. supra), but a “women of letters” had significantly more frustrations and hardships. Whereas
the “man of letters” often only needed his gender to ensure some noteworthy success, women
were not bestowed with such an advantage. It was a paradoxical situation, especially in the field
of literature as it is “the only intellectual field to which women, over a long stretch of time,
have made an indispensable contribution” (Moers, qtd. in Miles 2). Miles further notices how
“the novel has been the only literary form in which women have participated in numbers large
enough to make their presence felt, or to which they have contributed on anything like equal
terms with men” (2), even though their contribution was not fully appreciated as such in the
nineteenth century.
However, the prospects for women writers and their chance of success was not
completely impossible as there were many factors that enabled women to write. For example,
aspects which were not centred around their sexuality, such as the “vastly [expanding]
commercial press” enabled the emergence of a “(wo-)man of letters” and, furthermore, “trace
the ongoing, if not always smooth, development of women’s professional authorship during the
nineteenth century” (Peterson, Becoming a Woman of Letters 3). Another component that
facilitated the flourishing of literary legitimisation for women was the expansion of new genres6
that women writers could engage with. Those new genres made it easier for women writers to
escape the confines of fiction and drama. As Peterson notes; “with these new periodical genres
6
Among those new genres were the essay, the literary review, the periodical column, the biographical portrait and
historical sketch, the travelogue, and the serialised tale (Peterson, Becoming a Woman of Letters 4).
Van Bockstaele 24
emerged the modern woman of letters and her new self-constructions” (Becoming a Woman of
Letters 4). Palmer remarks that particularly the expanding use of the serialised tale enabled the
presence of women writers in the Victorian (periodical) press, as it gave them a consistent and
systematic fee rather than one large reimbursement. Another major advantage of serialised
fiction was the time in between the required writings, which enabled women writers to
harmonise their literary aspirations with their domestic duties (4). Elizabeth Gaskell is a prime
example of someone who succeeded in harmonising her daily occupations and her literary
writing. However, the delicate tension between these two opposite aspects of the life of women
writers encumbered their life significantly as “[t]he all-pervasive demands of running a
household and the family’s social life constantly intruded” (Onslow 19). In addition, there was
a fine line between appreciation for a woman’s work or criticism if a woman failed to maintain
the all-pervasive domestic ideal. Women who had literary aspirations had to perform a
balancing act between their writings and their domestic duties; they had to be extremely
cautious so that they would not be excluded from society;
For women writers, obscurity was required to maintain social respectability, yet women
found it necessary to balance privacy with visibility to enhance public interest in their
lives and work. Too little exposure would mean invisibility in a fiercely competitive
literary marketplace, yet too much exposure could mean being cast aside as the latest
vulgar literary fad (Easley 12).
However, a woman in the Victorian period was not alone in her quest to conquer the literary
world. Women’s religious beliefs allowed them to engage with “natural, social and intellectual
networks linking private and public spheres” (Onslow 28). Furthermore, the early feminist
organisations developed structures of mutual support. These systems of encouragement and
protection between women often first saw light in the privacy of the family circles. For example,
Elizabeth Gaskell’s house was remembered as “a centre for meeting female activists” (Onslow
Van Bockstaele 25
28). Another assertion that authorised the advancement of female authorship was the idea “that
women should develop and make use of their God-given intellectual abilities” (Jordan 97)7.
Women writers also entered the literary marketplace out of economic necessity, which provided
them with some advantages. That is, the earning of a living not only enabled women to pursue
their independence and escape the authorial control of and oppression by men, it also allowed
them to provide for their families (Onslow 17). With women writers’ increasing independence
came the confidence that empowered them and allowed them to withstand criticism of their
male colleagues. Financial autonomy resulted in a new-found determination which ensured that
women writes were able to create “professional identities” (Malfait 116) for themselves,
without the need for confirmation of their male counterparts and the anxiety that accompanied
those reactions. Hence, despite all the limitations that were imposed on women and the
difficulties and criticism they had to overcome, they eventually succeeded in their attempt to
“engage in authorship without compromising their femininity or the gentility of their families”
(Jordan 91). The risk of jeopardising their image deeply worried all women writers, as they did
not want to risk losing their feminine image which was valued greatly, nor did they want to
endanger the social positions of their family members. This necessity to conform to the rules
and the unbalanced position of both sexes was already a topic worthy of debate in the nineteenth
century as well, and both men and women voiced their opinions about the issue of women
writers.
In his essay “The Lady Novelists”, which was published in The Westminster Review in
1852, George Henry Lewes discussed the position of women writers and what genre they should
adhere to. Although Lewes made a distinction between men and women’s writing, he was not
opposed to the value that a woman’s perspective might bring. However, in his 1852 essay,
7
This idea of women making use of their God-given abilities is also echoed by Gaskell (cf. Elizabeth Gaskell and
Victorian Authorship).
Van Bockstaele 26
Lewes’s stance towards women writers was ambiguous. Lewes was “one of the few prominent
nineteenth-century critics who did address himself seriously to discussing the place of women
in literature” (Caine 85). While at first he acknowledged that women deserved a place in the
literary field, he was quick to diminish their importance and role. Lewes asserted that
“[l]iterature is the expression of society” (131), subsequently it should be regarded as “the
expression of emotions, the whims, the caprices, the enthusiasms, the fluctuating idealisms
which move each epoch [...]” (131). This emphasis on literature as a vehicle for expression led
him to observe that “[...] as women necessarily take part in these things, they ought to give them
their expression” (131). He believed the portrayal of the female perspective was vital as the
literature of women had one essential advantage;
the advent of female literature promises woman’s view of life, woman’s experience: in
other words, a new element. [...] Make what distinctions you please in the social world,
it still remains true that men and women have different organizations, consequently
different experiences. To know life you must have both sides depicted (131).
Lewes’s assertion that women’s writing should not be ignored was emphasised further on in his
essay as well, as he observed that “we are in no need of more male writers; we are in need of
genuine female experience” (132). Although Lewes seemed to find it necessary to incorporate
women writers’ point of view into literature, that did not prevent him from asserting that men
and women’s writing differed; “[m]asculine mind is characterized by the predominance of the
intellect, and the Feminine by the predominance of the emotions” (131-132). Lewes here
employed a well-known and much-applied concept which separated women’s accomplishments
from that of their male counterparts (cf. supra). Even though at first Lewes claimed that a
division between men and women’s writing – where men’s writing should be situated in the
philosophical area, that of women in literature – is merely a “sign-post” (132), he goes on by
declaring that “[...] in most men the intellect does not move in such inseparable alliance with
Van Bockstaele 27
the emotions as in most women [...]” (132). In addition, due to this emphasis on the presumed
preoccupation of women with emotions, Lewes concluded that women should occupy a position
in literature related to their place in society. Thus, fiction was the most appropriate subdivision
of literature for women;
The domestic experience which form the bulk of woman’s knowledge finds an
appropriate form in novels; while the very nature of fiction calls for that predominance
of Sentiment which we have already attributed to the feminine mind [...] Hence we may
be prepared to find women better succeeding in finesse of detail, in pathos and
sentiment, while men generally succeed better in the construction of plots and the
delineation of character (133).
Lewes clearly isolated the abilities of women writers, asserting that they were only capable of
writing about one literary issue, namely that of sentiment. It is unmistakable that Lewes
believed poetry and poetic drama to be more elevated literary forms than the novel, which is
why he deemed the novel as the only suitable genre for women (Caine 86). Even though Lewes
believed that there might have been women whose work was not monopolised by sentiment and
women who might have had a genuine interest in and feel for intellectual pursuits, that did not
mean that they should actually attempt to write about it. The intellectual area of expertise was
already allocated by men and thus it would be futile for women to pursue the same ambitions.
As Caine summarises; “Thus the notion of female literature as expressing the experiences of
women comes very soon to be a dogmatic statement, and one which confines women writers
entirely to the treatment of the domestic sphere” (86). In addition, Lewes posed that women
writers only resorted to literature to escape a solitary life or if “her thwarted affection shut her
somewhat from that sweet domestic and maternal sphere to which her whole being
spontaneously moves” (133-134). He believed that women writers turned to literature to create
another sphere when the domestic sphere was not rewarding enough. The idea that women
Van Bockstaele 28
could inhabit the public, male sphere was inconceivable; Lewes thought it was more probable
that women would create an entirely new sphere rather than rivalling with their male
counterparts. He believed that women were unsuitable to compete with men; “[...] the mental
and bodily construction of women is such as to prevent their rivalling men in most intellectual
and public spheres” (Caine 91). Furthermore, Lewes, who was by all means a nineteenthcentury man – and appropriated the beliefs that he grew up with – did not address the possibility
of a woman entering the public sphere, as that domain was clearly preserved for men. By
depicting women writers as such, he “manages to describe [...] women, along with the others
who write, appear both marginal and abnormal” (Caine 87). Finally, before Lewes started with
his analysis of some women writers, among them Jane Austen, George Sand, and Elizabeth
Gaskell, he noted that “[t]he happy wife and busy mother are only forced into literature by some
hereditary organic tendency, stronger even than the domestic; and hence it is that the cleverest
women are not always those who have written books” (134). Lewes reinforced the maledominated view regarding literature that has been connected inextricably with the nineteenth
century. This statement appears to be a final insult as he questioned the intellectual capacities
of Victorian women writers. As Caine also notices, even though Lewes appreciated the lady
novelists he incorporated in his essay, “[...] he never for a moment lost sight of their sex, and
hence of what he considered to be their limitations” (85).
Another Victorian perspective is that of M.A. Stodart. In her conduct book Female
writers: thoughts on their proper sphere, and on their powers of usefulness (1842), Stodart
disapproved of women writers attention for novel writing, as she asserted that; “[i]t has been
already said that many of the female writers of the day, are to be found among the novelists.
This is exceedingly to be regretted. If the evils to women from novel-reading are not small,
those which arise from novel-writing are alarming great” (134). Her manual for Victorian
women was peculiar in the sense that it “both celebrates the achievements of women writers
Van Bockstaele 29
and replicates traditional patriarchal discourse about the negative effects of novel reading on
women” (Wilson 70), in effect displaying the difficulty of women writers’ positions for both
the authors themselves and those who review them. Whilst trying to find a place for women’s
fiction, Stodart was still a product of her time who could not subdue the standards of the maledominated society. Stodart seemed to have most difficulties with fiction, rather than poetry or
biographical publications. However, she did not reject the advantages of women’s writing
completely. Stodart comprehended the benefits of women’s writing; “[…] she argued for the
inclusion of women’s writing in the compass of national literature […]” (Wilson 70), while at
the same time expressing concern that it should not obstruct their domestic duties;
The literature of a country may be considered as the expression of the national mind,
breathing out from the union of many voices into one full symphony. ‘The man is not
without the woman, nor the woman without the man in the Lord.’ A full-voiced choir
would not be considered complete without some female voices, and there must always
be chasms in a literature where women are sedulously excluded from the expression of
thought and sentiment. We say nothing […] against attention to domestic duties. Home
is and ever must be the true sphere for woman, and her domestic duties her first duties
(9).
Stodart also provided an explanation as to why women increasingly became professional
writers; they were simply replacing their male counterparts. This statement again displayed the
distinction in evaluation of both sexes, and how the perception of fiction was biased and
dependent on notions of gender;
[…] [M]en of powerful minds, who might have embraced literature as a profession and
risen to the highest ranks in it, enter into some other career; they are to be found in the
senate, amid the turmoil of political life; at the bar; and, in fact, in all the learned
Van Bockstaele 30
professions. Nature abhors a vacuum, and women, with dwarfish men, step forward to
supply the gap. The present state of literature in England evidences the truth of these
observations (13).
In this excerpt, Stodart depicted the profession of an author as less noteworthy than that of a
politician or a solicitor, which she referred to as learned occupations (cf. supra). In doing so,
Stodart contrasted the supposed intentions of men and women, as men rose above the profession
of an author, whereas women were eager to fill in their places at the bottom of the professional
ranks. Stodart’s essay emphasised the discrepancies between men and women in literature; “she
articulates the contradictions and conflicts facing women writers that will reappear throughout
the century […]” (Wilson 70).
George Eliot, pseudonym of Mary Ann Evans and author of the appraised novel
Middlemarch (1871-72), also provided the nineteenth-century reader with her ideas regarding
the place of women writers. In her essay “Silly Novels by Lady Novelists”, published in
October 1856 in the Westminster Review, Eliot expressed her opinion on novels written by the
hand of lady novelists, as they were often foolish and disregarded reality. Eliot was
“embarrassed by the fact that popular ‘lady novelists’ appear to confirm the male idea that
women lack intelligence and should not be educated” (Erkkila 80). Eliot was the life companion
of the earlier mentioned George Henry Lewes, which is also reflected in the title of her essay.
Her article resonated with that of Lewes, as it also questioned the importance and significance
of women writers. Eliot provided a separate category when talking about the writings of certain
women as well, as she referred to them as ‘lady novelists’. However, Eliot’s intention by
creating a separate category for some female authors can be understood. Eliot was critical of
the novels that lady novelists produced – as opposed to women writers – because they could
endanger educational possibilities for women;
Van Bockstaele 31
If, as the world has long agreed, a very great amount of instruction will not make a wise
man, still less will a very mediocre amount of instruction make a wise woman. And the
most mischievous form of feminine silliness is the literary form, because it tends to
confirm the popular prejudice against the more solid education of women (454).
Eliot made a distinction between lady novelists and women writers, as the former were women
who discredited the efforts of the latter. Whilst Eliot did not refrain from critiquing the fiction
that some women wrote, she complimented some of her contemporaries whom she considered
professional and worthy of the name and the status of women writers. Among those women
novelists were Elizabeth Gaskell, Charlotte Brontë, and Harriet Martineau. Additionally, Eliot
addressed the scrutiny under which women’s writing was assessed, and how quickly their work
was condemned if there was a glimpse of success. In her satirical essay, Eliot appeared to be an
advocate for a more lenient approach when it came to the assessment of women’s writing.
Especially when women’s fictional work was compared to that of male writers, who did not
have to carry the same burden;
No sooner does a woman show that she has genius or effective talent, than she receives
the tribute of being moderately praised and severely criticised. By a peculiar
thermometric adjustment, when a woman’s talent is at zero, journalistic approbation is
at a boiling pitch; when she attains mediocrity, it is already at no more than summer
heat; and if ever she reaches excellence, critical enthusiasm drops to the freezing point
(460).
The juxtaposition of these essays highlight how in the nineteenth-century literary field the
position of women was much debated and assessed. The respective places of men and women
was a concern of both parties. This resulted in essays and articles discussing the advantages and
the problems that could be encountered when women’s writing would be fully accepted, and
Van Bockstaele 32
moreover, appreciated for its worth and its valuable contribution to the field of literature. While
both Eliot and Stodart attempted to justify women’s writing, they could not break away from
the patriarchal supervision and domination that was a fundamental component of their lives.
Both women were born into this culture in which women were systematically undervalued and
subsequently they had difficulties finding their rightful position in it. This is for example,
perfectly clear in Eliot’s “Silly Novels by Lady Novelists” (1856) ;
[George Eliot] strives for, and perfectly accomplishes, [...] the ‘masculine’ mode, that
of the detached, educated, omniscient outsider. She writes as a honorary male, largely
assuming the values and processes of the male-created and –dominated society of her
time. Her sympathy for women and keen sense of their wrongs is an important element
in her writing; but it is hardly more than might have been expressed by any thoughtful
man of her age (Miles 38).
This failed attempt in breaking away from the patriarchal authority is another confirmation of
how embedded the dichotomy between male writers and women novelists was in the nineteenth
century. Moreover, this division between men and women is still prevalent today, as Miles also
argues;
The part-playful, part-hostile nineteenth-century distinctions of women writers as ‘lady
novelists’ has stayed very much alive. [...] The distinction [...] has become hallowed as
‘writers’ and ‘women writers’, the phrase still operating to confine creative women to a
pejorative subsection [...] (7).
In the following chapter, Gaskell’s perspective on this matter will be analysed, as her literary
work implicitly conveyed progressive ideas by means of women who transgressed social
boundaries. At the same time, however, Gaskell was a mother and a wife who had to adhere to
Van Bockstaele 33
social conventions. How this struggle was perceived by Gaskell will be supported by means of
her personal recollections in her correspondence, and her fictional work.
Van Bockstaele 34
Elizabeth Gaskell and Authorship
How Elizabeth Gaskell envisioned Victorian authorship herself will be analysed in this chapter.
Firstly, a concise biography will be provided, as Gaskell’s childhood and her adult life certainly
had an influence on how she visualised herself as an author. As Chapple and Sharps so keenly
state; “[t]o speak justly of her art, we need to examine her life; [...]” (ix). That is, how she was
brought up and, subsequently, how she brought up her children will reveal how she saw the
position of women in society. Moreover, Gaskell’s point of view regarding authorship will be
analysed by means of an excerpt from The Life of Charlotte Brontë (1857). Lastly, how she
subtly incorporated her views in her fictional work is also part of this chapter, as Gaskell’s
fictional work displays her intentions by means of the female protagonists who continuously
seek autonomy and authority.
Elizabeth Gaskell was born as Elizabeth Cleghorn Stevenson in 1810, the youngest of
eight children. She spent her childhood with her aunt Hannah Lumb, since her mother had died
when she was still a baby and her father was unable to care for her. This change of scenery
certainly left its mark on Gaskell and her subsequent writings, as she was continuously
surrounded by women. In this environment, she was encouraged to develop her own opinions
and thoughts, which would be reflected in the female characters of her later fictional works as
well. This notion was also articulated by Edna Lyall, a fellow novelist, in 1897;
For two years in her girlhood she was educated at Stratford-on-Avon, walking in the
flowery meadows where Shakspere once walked, [...] nor is it possible to help imagining
that the associations of that ideal place had an influence on the mind of the future writer,
[…]
In 1832, she married a Unitarian minister, William Gaskell, with whom she had seven children,
although only four daughters survived. It was as if history had repeated itself, as she was again
Van Bockstaele 35
surrounded by women with whom she could share ideas and whose independence she in turn
could stimulate. When her first daughter, Marianne, was born, Gaskell wrote a diary in which
she recorded the girl’s progress. It was a method which differed from the “normal Victorian
dogma of ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’” (Stoneman 20), and subsequently it details
Gaskell’s attitude concerning the role of women. Rather than disciplining Marianne whenever
she misbehaved, Gaskell tried to discover the cause of such behaviour. As Stoneman states;
“[h]er aim [was] to produce rationality, not obedience” (20). Gaskell expected all her daughters
to “make reliable judgments in their dealings with other people” (Stoneman 20), effectively
encouraging them to flourish on their own. Their behaviour even amazed Charlotte Brontë, who
as an experienced governess was “astonished at their spontaneous kindness” (Stoneman 20).
Gaskell nurtured her children in such a way that they were able to experience for themselves
how the world around them was constructed. Gaskell’s relationship with her children are a
reflection of her thoughts on women, as she did not believe that they needed to be confined and
restricted continuously. In 1865, Elizabeth Gaskell suddenly died whilst on a visit to her new
house, which she had bought with her own money and without the knowledge of her husband.
Fortunately, Gaskell’s marriage to the cleric William Gaskell was not as strict and authoritarian
as the bulk of marriages in the Victorian era. Whereas Miles asserted that “[m]arriage has in
general posed a major threat to the flowering of female talent. In the nature of the institution
women are required to surrender that autonomy essential to the practice of any art” (22), that
did not seem to be the case for their matrimony. William Gaskell left his wife relatively free
when it came to her writings. Furthermore, even though he was entitled to her earnings, she was
still able to purchase a house of her own with the remuneration she had received from her
fictional work. However, Gaskell was not completely independent, as she was still a woman
living in the nineteenth century. As such, she observed how women were silenced and she was
exposed to the same limitations as other women. One of those restrictions was the idea that
Van Bockstaele 36
women should not have secrets of their own; their husbands were allowed to read their
correspondence. This arrangement also befell Elizabeth Gaskell, which McBee notes in her
master dissertation “Revoking Victorian silences: Redemption of fallen women through speech
in Elizabeth Gaskell’s fiction” (2012). McBee highlights how Gaskell found pleasure in writing
letters, yet at the same time Gaskell felt restricted by her husband who read all of them (9). She
wrote to Elizabeth Gaskell, her sister-in-law, how she felt restrained when William read her
letters. In the following excerpt, it is clear that her husband read both her letters and the answers
she received, which urged Gaskell to ask her sister-in-law not to make clear in her response that
she had written a complaint. Furthermore, it seems that initially Gaskell did not have any
reservations when her husband first started reading her letters, as she had not anticipated any
problems. However, the inconvenience of such an arrangement soon became apparent, as
Gaskell stipulated that writing “naturally & heartily” was out of the question; her husband
would in all likelihood disapprove of any evidence of her brutal honesty which could have
potentially put him in a less favourable light;
When I finished my last letter Willm looked at it, and said it was ‘slip-shod’ – and
seemed to wish me not to send it, [...]. But I was feeling languid and anxious and tired,
& have not been over-well this last week, and moreover the sort of consciousness that
Wm may any time and does generally see my letters makes me not write so naturally &
heartily as I think I should do. Don’t begin that bad custom, my dear! and don’t notice
it in your answer. Still I chuckled when I got your letter today for I thought I can answer
it with so much more comfort to myself when Wm is away which you know he is at
Buxton (Letter to Elizabeth Gaskell, 19 August 1838).
However, Gaskell’s attitude gradually changed and she became more confident, which is clear
from her later correspondence (cf. infra). As her professional career progressed, she clearly felt
no longer restricted by her husband’s potential disapproval. Another instance in which Gaskell
Van Bockstaele 37
clearly displayed the nineteenth-century societal influence is in a letter to Eliza Fox, a young
artist. In this correspondence, Gaskell compared women writers to their male counterparts; she
observed the importance of attending to domestic duties rather than only pursuing literary
dreams. At the same time, however, Gaskell acknowledged the values of writing. Whereas in
this letter she still argued for a blend between literary aspirations and domestic responsibilities,
that idea changed in her 1857 biography of Charlotte Brontë, written seven years after this letter.
In Brontë’s commemorative biography, Gaskell saw literary work and domestic duties as the
two parallel currents which were not to be conflated. Gaskell was conflicted about the
possibilities of women’s writing, and whether they should be aligned with or distanced from
domestic obligations. In her lifetime, Gaskell tried to reconcile both aspects, which is probably
why her initial standpoint in her letter to Fox differs from her statements in her biographical
work of Charlotte Brontë. Moreover, by the time she had written the memoir, her experience
with authorship had developed, which certainly had its influence on her stance towards it;
One thing is pretty clear, Women, must give up living an artist’s life, if home duties are
to be paramount. It is different with men, whose home duties are so small a part of their
life. [...] I am sure it is healthy for [women] to have the refuge of the hidden world of
Art to shelter themselves in when too much pressed upon by daily small Lilliputian
arrows of peddling cares; [...]. I have felt this in writing, I see others feel it in music,
you in painting, so assuredly a blending of the two is desirable. (Home duties and the
development of the Individual I mean), which you will say it takes no Solomon to tell
you but the difficulty is where and when to make on set of duties subserve and give
place to the other (Letter to Eliza Fox, February 1850).
In her biographical work of Charlotte Brontë, Gaskell emphasised the importance of female
contributions to the literary field. In addition, the dichotomy that she created between the
women writer and her work was employed “for overcoming literary rivalry and emphasizing
Van Bockstaele 38
cooperation among women writers” (Peterson, “Triangulation, Desire, and Discontent” 904).
Gaskell defined authorship in such a way that both “literary genius and domestic exemplarity”
(Peterson, “Triangulation, Desire, and Discontent” 910) were assimilated in her definition. This
idea is reflected in one of the most famous passages in The Life of Charlotte Brontë, in chapter
two of the second volume. It is a lengthy excerpt in which Gaskell’s standpoint is delineated
meticulously. The excerpt shows how Gaskell was clearly a product of nineteenth-century
society, as she asserted that men are able to occupy any other profession if they wish to do so.
At the same time, however, she highlighted the importance and value of women’s domestic
duties, which could not be as easily disregarded as the professional occupations of their male
counterparts. She aligned women’s domestic responsibilities with their literary aspirations,
asserting that women should not conceal their God-given talents and “hide [their] gift in a
napkin”, but employ them “in an humble and faithful spirit” (cf. supra). The excerpt, according
to O’Gorman, “displays a radical schism between these competing spheres […] in which
Gaskell contrasts Brontë’s supposed self-division with the unified subjectivity of male authors”
(146);
Henceforward Charlotte Brontë's existence becomes divided into two parallel
currents—her life as Currer Bell, the author; her life as Charlotte Brontë, the woman.
There were separate duties belonging to each character—not opposing each other; not
impossible, but difficult to be reconciled. When a man becomes an author, it is probably
merely a change of employment to him. He takes a portion of that time which has
hitherto been devoted to some other study or pursuit; he gives up something of the legal
or medical profession, in which he has hitherto endeavoured to serve others, or
relinquishes part of the trade or business by which he has been striving to gain a
livelihood; and another merchant or lawyer, or doctor, steps into his vacant place, and
probably does as well as he. But no other can take up the quiet, regular duties of the
Van Bockstaele 39
daughter, the wife, or the mother, as well as she whom God has appointed to fill that
particular place: a woman's principal work in life is hardly left to her own choice; nor
can she drop the domestic charges devolving on her as an individual, for the exercise of
the most splendid talents that were ever bestowed. And yet she must not shrink from the
extra responsibility implied by the very fact of her possessing such talents. She must not
hide her gift in a napkin; it was meant for the use and service of others. In an humble
and faithful spirit must she labour to do what is not impossible, or God would not have
set her to do it.
As Peterson comments, “‘[d]uty’ and ‘service,’ then, are crucial to Gaskell’s understanding of
authorship in terms of the domestic and literary aspects of the women writer’s experience”
(“Triangulation, Desire, and Discontent” 910). At first sight it appears that, much like George
Eliot and M.A. Stodart, Elizabeth Gaskell was ambiguous when she referred to the position of
women in society, and especially in the literary field. Gaskell’s frame of reference echoes that
of Eliot and Stodart in the sense that, whereas male authors were stimulated to consider
authorship as “potentially interchangeable with other bourgeois professions” (O’Gorman 147),
women were not so advantageous. As summarised by O’Gorman; “the female author cannot
exchange public and private sites of professional employment given that the private space of
literary labor is already inhabited by the ‘domestic charges’ for which she is held uniquely
responsible” (147). Women’s opportunities for literary engagement were severely limited, as
they could not simply alternate between diverse employments. Professional authorship was
something all these women strived for, yet at the same time they felt restrained due to their
confinement in the private, feminine sphere, as opposed to the public, male-dominated sphere.
However, Gaskell declared how women should not be frightened to accept their literary talents,
something she herself certainly took to heart.
Van Bockstaele 40
Additionally, Gaskell was by all means subtle when it came to conveying her opinion
regarding women’s ambitions and their (professional) status. In her fictional work, she
articulated how she really felt about this dichotomy between men and women by means of her
female characters. Gaskell was able to convey her predicaments and her expectations of what
could and should change; “Elizabeth Gaskell’s books especially appropriated Victorian literary
form and narrative rhythms to represent, explicitly or implicitly, things previously unsaid about
women’s lives, such as unwed motherhood, menses, pregnancy, and sexual desire” (Hughes
and Lund 3). For example, Margaret Hale, the protagonist of Gaskell’s second industrial novel
North and South (1855), defies the boundaries of the separate spheres. Moreover, Margaret is
completely unaware or unaffected of the commotion that her actions stirred. As observed by
d’Albertis in her novel Dissembling Fictions: Elizabeth Gaskell and the Victorian Social Text
(1997);
[...] Gaskell shaped and questioned the doctrine of male and female spheres through her
undermining of the distinction in the formal construction of her novels. [...] Gaskell
consistently attacked Victorian separate spheres of ideology for fostering a reductive
polarity between the “female” domestic and “male” industrial novel, frequently
combining, and thus indelibly altering, the two in her work (6).
Gaskell was careful not to let her female characters be equated with herself, yet at the same
time their thoughts and actions resonated with hers. Gaskell certainly knew how the literary
marketplace worked as she was a novelist “[...] who understood the mechanics of book
production, the business of publication, and the nature of reception. Thus she realized where
the unclaimed spaces in the literary industry lay and knew how to use her own distinctive voice
to reach certain audiences” (Hughes and Lund 3). Instead of unambiguously exclaiming how
she was opposed to the treatment of women writers and the restraints that were put on women
in general, Gaskell was a skilful author who knew how to adapt her fiction in such a way that
Van Bockstaele 41
it would accommodate her criticism. In addition to the transgression of the spheres in North
and South, this is exemplified in her choice of themes which often caused public outcry and
criticism. Most notably in her novel Ruth (1853), in which the female protagonist is seduced by
a wealthy young man leading to her ruin. In the end, Gaskell offers the protagonist a chance for
redemption, and ultimately Ruth is able to restore her place in society. Again, as Gaskell did
not want to come across as too radical or uncompromising for nineteenth-century society’s
standards, Ruth dies after she nurses the man who initiated her downfall in the first place.
However, the fundamental idea of atonement and restitution for someone who would have been
obliterated in reality shows how Gaskell was aware of the misconceptions surrounding women
and their pejorative status. Gaskell’s incorporation of unconventional ideas in her novel even
caused her to prohibit her daughters from reading it. Nevertheless, Gaskell believed
improvement was in order, which she subsequently addressed in her fictional work. Regardless
of her own status in society, that is, as a respectable wife and mother, she did not avoid sensitive
topics. In doing so, “Gaskell repeatedly confronted challenges embedded in Victorian ideas of
gender and authorship” (Hughes and Lund 3-4).
There certainly was a need for someone to defy the male domination and usurp the
conventions that limited women writers and confined them to one sphere. Gaskell both altered
conventional forms and invented new ones to suit her needs. She appropriated male-dominated
structures such as the serial novel and the biographical portrait, and reshaped them so that they
would enable her to give her own perspective on social, economic and political matters. Gaskell
managed to produce literary work that “has survived deliberate efforts to confine it within limits
comfortable to specific audiences” (Hughes and Lund 4). In the following chapters, Gaskell’s
affiliation with Charles Dickens and Charlotte Brontë will be analysed. Her relationship with
both authors is a reflection of the Victorian literary marketplace, as it chronicles the ingrained
differences between men and women writers. That is, whereas Dickens was perceived as a
Van Bockstaele 42
professional literary body, Gaskell and Brontë were initially not so fortunate. Women had to
cooperate and support each other, even posthumously, if they wanted to be immortalised. In the
following chapter, Gaskell’s professional relationship with Dickens will be interpreted. Their
affiliation clearly details how Gaskell’s professional stance progressed; she became more
autonomous and authoritative, which ultimately led to her departure from Dickens’s control.
Van Bockstaele 43
Elizabeth Gaskell and Charles Dickens
The at times strenuous relationship between Elizabeth Gaskell and colleague author Charles
Dickens has been much analysed and with good reason. That is, Dickens had been Gaskell’s
editor and their professional partnership and collaboration did comprise a significant amount of
work which was written and published over an extensive period of time, something which was
summarised concisely by Annette B. Hopkins;
Mrs Gaskell wrote for Dickens for thirteen years, from the inception of Household
Words on March 30, 1850, to the Christmas Number of All The Year Round for 1863,
submitting verse, essays and reviews, tales, novelettes, and novels, to a total of more
than thirty titles (357).
Therefore, analysing their (professional) relationship and how they envisioned their cooperation
is one aspect of Elizabeth Gaskell’s ideas concerning authorship that will be explored as their
affiliation was a constant struggle for the upper hand. In addition, the mere observation that we
are dealing with a man and a woman who both occupied a significant position in the literary
circles of the nineteenth century is an aspect that simply cannot be overlooked. Furthermore,
the knowledge that Gaskell and Dickens are of the opposite sex might unravel some particular
differences in evaluation, perception, and reception of men and women. The inequality between
men and women was an integral component of Victorian culture (cf. supra), and in the literary
field as well.
The Start of Their Contact
Already in his own time and by his contemporaries, Charles Dickens was regarded as the
epitome of literary success and accomplishments; “[…] Charles Dickens was the dominant
model for combining authorial and editorial success. [He] was the patriarch of ‘popular
literature’” (Palmer 20). Dickens’s adherence to his professional status was echoed in his
Van Bockstaele 44
ambition to create his own periodical which would focus on unity and which exposed his
controlling side. The periodical Household Words was “an instance of centralized authorial
control” (Jackson 59), where the main ambition was to unite those who were willing to raise
awareness for social issues. Moreover, this cooperation enabled those writers to work towards
a common objective, namely that of a universal moral consciousness which would hopefully
lessen many of the social, political and economic wrongdoings. Household Words was not
Dickens’s first taste of the editorial world, as he had previously worked for the Bentley’s
Miscellany. The literary magazine, under the control of publisher Richard Bentley, was the
periodical in which Dickens published his second novel, the acclaimed Oliver Twist. The
periodical ran from 1836 to 1868, but arguments about editorship caused a rift between Bentley
and Dickens. Dickens was the first editor Bentley had appointed, yet their professional
relationship ended prematurely in 1839. Not long after his departure from editorial work for
Bentley’s Miscellany, Dickens was affiliated with Master Humphrey’s Clock, a weekly
periodical in which he tried to accomplish a renewal of the eighteenth-century sense of
formatting, reminiscent of periodicals such as The Tatler and The Spectator (Jackson 60). In
contrast to Bentley’s Miscellany, the second periodical Dickens was involved with – and which
was published from April 1840 to December 1841 – had sprung from Dickens’s mind and was
subsequently written and edited by the master himself. However, Master Humphrey’s Clock
did not attract the readership that was hoped for as “[Dickens] struggled to find enough diversity
in the contributions” (Schelstraete 21), and sales soon dropped. Dickens returned to publishing
his fiction in instalments, and, as a result, Master Humphrey’s Clock became nothing more than
an empty vessel to introduce his own serial novels. Most notably, two novels were published in
the serial: The Old Curiosity Shop and Barnaby Rudge, in addition to some short stories.
Whereas with Bentley’s Miscellany Dickens was simply one component of a well-structured
organisation, merely a puppet who was not entirely in control of the strings that he was attached
Van Bockstaele 45
to, he had complete control over Master Humphrey’s Clock. Soon afterwards, with the
periodical Household Words, his dominant authorial voice would be affirmed once more. In
addition, Dickens abandoned his idea for the revival of eighteenth century formats, – the initial
focus of Master Humphrey’s Clock – which subsequently enabled him to direct his gaze at a
new project which incorporated new objectives. His new serial publication form was aimed at
displaying, as Harry Stone observed;
[...] [a] cohesiveness not through an external framework, but through assimilation to a
Dickensian vision [...]. [To] create a coherent identity. While employing a diversity of
writers, while ranging over a multitude of subjects, Household Words would seem to
speak with a single voice (qtd. in Jackson 60).
The prospect of success for his new periodical Household Words8 and the accompanying
ambition that fuelled Dickens’s actions prompted him to write a letter to Elizabeth Gaskell on
January 31, 1850. Dickens flattered Gaskell in his letter, as he commented that “I do honestly
know that there is no living English writer whose aid I would desire to enlist in preference of
the authoress of Mary Barton” (qtd. in Vann 64). Even though Dickens was initially confident
that Elizabeth Gaskell would be a beneficial addition to the periodical, this observation did not
stop him from reiterating the intended framework of values that he sought to implement; “every
paper [...] will express the general mind and purpose of the journal, which is the raising up of
those that are down, and the general improvement of our social condition” (qtd. in Jackson 60).
It seems that Dickens had no problem to align his beliefs and intentions with those of Gaskell,
as she had proven her worth by means of her first industrial novel Mary Barton, which was
8
In 1859, following arguments between Charles Dickens and the publishers, Bradbury and Evans, Dickens
renounced his editorship of Household Words, after which he established a new weekly periodical entitled All the
Year Round (Vann 68).
Van Bockstaele 46
published in 1848. Already in her first long narrative, Gaskell did not hesitate to incorporate
and address social issues which she had witnessed first-hand, as she had lived in Manchester
during the first years of her marriage to William Gaskell. The dichotomy between the wealthy
and the poor left a profound impression on her, and these social differences would become one
of the focal themes of her fictional work, which subsequently convinced Dickens to appeal to
her as one of his contributors in the first place. Not surprisingly, when Dickens asked Gaskell
to contribute to Household Words, he addressed her as “the authoress of Mary Barton”. In doing
so, Dickens clearly signified that he had read the novel and that he appreciated its content. He
discovered their common moral foundations, which were represented in both authors’ fictional
work, after which he must have concluded that Gaskell would be a valuable asset to Household
Worlds. For Dickens, Household Words was an enormous project which enabled him to pursue
a concept which he explained in his Preliminary Word, published in March 1850;
[…] We seek to bring into innumerable homes, from the stirring world around us, the
knowledge of many social wonders, good and evil, that are not calculated to render any
of us less ardently persevering in ourselves, less tolerant of one another, less faithful in
the progress of mankind, less thankful for the privilege of living in this summer-dawn
of time […]
Opting for Elizabeth Gaskell and subsequently allowing her writings to be published in
Household Words was an educated and reasonable decision, as her work resonated with the
periodical’s ambitions. In addition to his personal appreciation of Gaskell’s work, there was a
more economical reason for including her into the periodical. That is, after the publication of
Mary Barton, her literary reputation was soaring (Hopkins 358), which implied that a larger
readership could be attracted.
Elizabeth Gaskell accepted his proposal, yet it would not take long before Dickens
conveyed some criticism, as he felt that her first manuscript, which he received in February
Van Bockstaele 47
1850, was too long for the narrative framework he had in mind. It was the first conflict of many,
and it revealed Gaskell’s insecurity regarding the compatibility of her work with the periodical
format. Already before her involvement with Household Words, Gaskell had posed two
problems which could have resulted in her refusal to write for the periodical. The first problem
was the inevitable restrictions of publishing in a periodical. Publishing in serial meant that
Gaskell had no control on how her novel would be divided. In addition, as a Victorian woman
writer, she feared the writing process would disrupt her domestic responsibilities. Dickens
acknowledged her predicaments, yet posed that; “she will find the writing of a short story less
disrupting to her domestic obligations than a long one would be, adding tactfully that if she
should find her hand ‘painfully cramped,’ he thought it might be ‘spread into four portions –
though more would be objectionable... to the fair reading of the story’” (Hopkins 359). Thus,
an extension was reluctantly given, and it was immediately clear that Dickens was unwilling to
adapt his guidelines in favour of Gaskell’s narrative. This emphasis on the importance of the
journal’s strict guidelines was an aspect which he had clearly communicated from the very
beginning. It comes as no surprise that he was unwilling to make any concessions with regards
to the general purpose of Household Words as he had defined it only one month earlier.
In March 1850, Dickens voiced further objections, now with regards to the actual
content of Gaskell’s short story “Lizzie Leigh” (Vann 64). Nonetheless, the short story was
placed directly after Dickens’s “Preliminary Word” in the first number of Household Words. It
immediately set the tone for what the readership could expect from this new periodical, as
Gaskell’s short story contemplated the predicament of the unmarried mother. Furthermore, the
narrative offered an outcome which was ahead of its time with regards to the ethical questions
it posed, as the narrative’s protagonist Lizzie is allowed to live a seemingly normal albeit
secluded life after the death of her child, and she is ultimately granted a chance for redemption
for her past actions (Hopkins 358). However, the placement of Gaskell’s first contribution to
Van Bockstaele 48
the periodical confused the readers, as it was assumed that “Lizzie Leigh” was written by
Dickens himself, which led to the story’s publication under his name in the American periodical
Harper’s in June 1850 (Malfait 121). This inaccurate attribution was a by-product of Dickens’s
idea that all contributions should be published anonymously, and it led Gaskell to believe that
“Household Words was less a place of freedom... than one where she lost the control of her
writing” (qtd. in Nayder 20).
Evidently, from the beginning of their cooperation, Dickens was keen on exerting his
authorial dominance. Furthermore, Dickens was not as pleased with Gaskell’s writings as he
had anticipated, which resulted in some irritation between both parties. Whereas Gaskell was
at first always willing to comply with Dickens’s wishes as the editor of Household Worlds,
cracks in that seemingly infallible image of professional coherence were soon starting to show.
When Gaskell was in the process of writing “Our Society at Cranford”, which was first
published serially in 1851, and which would later become a full-fledged novel, another incident
demonstrated how quickly Gaskell’s demeanour against Dickens developed and changed. In
one of the sketches, one of Gaskell’s characters – Captain Brown – dies while reading Pickwick,
written by Dickens. Dickens, out of modesty or out of the realisation that his name could not
appear in the story as it was already present on every page in the periodical, asked for Gaskell’s
permission to change the reference to Hood’s Poems. According to Hopkins, Gaskell “in a fright
over the proposed change” (363) requested for the chapter to be removed completely. Vann,
however, states that Gaskell “must have objected” (65) to the alteration, quoting the editor’s
letter that it was too late to withdraw the narrative as it had already been printed. Even though
both interpretations are plausible, from Dickens’s letter to Gaskell it seems that reassurance was
the main reason for the letter, which would imply that Gaskell was horrified rather than angry
at his suggestion. At the same time, however, the letter has a slightly condescending tone which
Van Bockstaele 49
again puts Dickens in a less favourable light and which shows how Gaskell was unwilling to
comply with his demands immediately;
I write in great haste to tell you that Mr. Wills, in the utmost consternation, has brought
me your letter, just received (four o'clock), and that it is too late to recall your tale. I
was so delighted with it that I put it first in the number (not hearing of any objection to
my proposed alteration by return of post), and the number is now made up and in the
printer's hands. I cannot possibly take the tale out—it has departed from me. I am truly
concerned for this, but I hope you will not blame me for what I have done in perfect
good faith. Any recollection of me from your pen cannot (as I think you know) be
otherwise than truly gratifying to me; but with my name on every page of "Household
Words," there would be—or at least I should feel—an impropriety in so mentioning
myself. I was particular, in changing the author, to make it "Hood's Poems" in the most
important place—I mean where the captain is killed—and I hope and trust that the
substitution will not be any serious drawback to the paper in any eyes but yours. I would
do anything rather than cause you a minute's vexation arising out of what has given me
so much pleasure, and I sincerely beseech you to think better of it, and not to fancy that
any shade has been thrown on your charming writing, by the unfortunate but innocent
(Letter to Elizabeth Gaskell, 5 December 1851).
It seems that from the inauguration of Household Words some disagreement was hiding beneath
the surface, especially with regards to the restrictions that accompanied a weekly periodical
publication. Nonetheless, Dickens did not articulate his irritation explicitly at the beginning of
their professional relationship; “until this point Dickens had apparently found Mrs. Gaskell an
easy contributor to work with; she was agreeable and, for the most part, pliable” (Vann 66). In
fact, when he informed Gaskell of the editorial progress of the serial prose “Friends in Need, at
Cranford” – which was published in 1853, he asserted that “As to future work, I do assure you
Van Bockstaele 50
that you cannot write too much for Household Words, and have never yet written half enough”
(qtd. in Vann 66). It was a declaration he would soon come to regret.
Disagreement about Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South
After the initial short stories were published in Household Words, Elizabeth Gaskell started to
write her second industrial novel, North and South, of which the first instalment was published
in August 1854 in Dickens’s periodical. The narrative would be divided serially in twenty
chapters and would ultimately reach its conclusion on January 27th, 1855. Hopkins’s
observation that “the ultimate source of the trouble was that the novel, [North and South], by
its very nature, was unsuitable for the serialization on the Dickens pattern” (375) essentially
summarises the main issue which led to the multiple disputes and irritations between the
renowned editor and the well-known authoress, who simply disapproved of Dickens’s insistent
devotion to his editorial vision. Gaskell started writing in February 1854 and initially, Dickens
was waiting with much anticipation for Gaskell’s new narrative, something which he also
expressed in a letter after he had received the first excerpts;
It opens an admirable story, is full of character and power, has a strong suspended
interest (the end of which I don’t in the least foresee), and has the very best marks of
your hand upon it. If I had had more to read, I certainly could not have stopped, but
must have read on (Letter to Elizabeth Gaskell, 16 June 1854).
However, immediately after his appraisal of Gaskell’s first draft, Dickens articulated his
concerns about the manuscript. More specifically, he seemed worried that the build-up of the
story would not fit the periodical format which he so closely adhered to. Dickens argued that
Gaskell’s current appropriation of the periodical form could potentially mean a drop in
readership as the readers would soon lose interest;
Van Bockstaele 51
Now, addressing myself to the consideration of its being published in weekly portions,
let me endeavour to shew you as distinctly as I can, the divisions into which it must fall.
According to the best of my judgment and experience, if it were divided in any other
way – reference being always had to the weekly space available for the purpose in
Household Words – it would be mortally injured (Letter to Elizabeth Gaskell, 16 June
1854).
He then continued, explaining how he envisioned the manner in which each instalment should
end. That is, Dickens wanted to maximise the surprising element, the so-called cliff-hanger,
which would leave readers unsatisfied and thus urge them to read the next instalment as well.
However, Gaskell did not agree with all of Dickens’s suggestions; “Mrs. Gaskell heeded
Dickens’s advice on termination points for the first three of the parts but not on the other three”
(Vann 66), which clearly resulted in a tense atmosphere between the editor and the author.
Hughes and Lund also state that “[w]hereas Dickens wanted each part to be self-contained –
with a clear climax and resolution – Gaskell wanted a more leisurely pace for the development
of plot and the entanglement of her audience” (97). Apparently, Dickens was so keen on
maintaining his periodical’s ideology that he offered to make the changes himself in the same
letter; “If you could be content to leave this to me, I could make those arrangements of the text
without much difficulty”. However, Gaskell did not authorise such involvement in her work at
first and she only complied with a few suggestions. Nevertheless, in a letter of December 1854,
Gaskell anticipated Dickens’s malcontent with her lengthy writings, allowing him to alter
excerpts if need be. At the same time, she clearly insisted that both she and her husband
proofread the excerpts extensively and they had concluded that any kind of alteration was not
the most opportune outcome. Gaskell endeavoured to convey some implicit criticism
concerning Dickens’s policy which limited her creative ability and capacity;
Van Bockstaele 52
[...] I send what I am afraid you will think too large a batch {o} of it by the post. What
Mr Wills has got already fills up the No for January 13, leaving me only two \more/
numbers, Janry 20, & Janry 27th so what I send today is meant to be crammed and stuffed
into Janry 20th; & I’m afraid I’ve nearly as much more for Janry 27. It is 33 pages of my
writing that I send today. I have tried to shorten & compress it [...] but there were [sic]
a whole catalogue of events to be got over: and what I want to tell you now is this, – Mr
Gaskell has looked this piece well over, so I don’t think there will be any carelessnesses
left in it, & so there ought not be any misprints; therefore I never wish to see it’s face
again; but, if you will keep the MS for me, & shorten it as you think best for HW. I shall
be very glad. Shortened I see it must be (Letter to Charles Dickens, 17 December 1854).
Nevertheless, one significant alteration was executed, as the title of the narrative was entirely a
Dickensian invention. Gaskell had intended to entitle her novel Margaret Hale, in concordance
with many of her other stories which also focused on the female protagonists, and which was
echoed in the titles of those works9. However, having the readership of Household Words to
identify with a female character was perhaps too progressive, after which Dickens encouraged
– or urged – Gaskell to alter the title to North and South. The juxtaposition in this title placed
the emphasis on the betterment of social conditions. Moreover, this idea of enhancement would
be highlighted even more by contrasting two opposite sides of the country. The alteration of the
title suited the overall aim of the periodical; to convey unity among the different contributors
and to criticise Victorian economic, political and social standards. However, in December 1854,
Gaskell proposed yet another title, which she deemed more appropriate than North and South,
namely Death & Variations; “I think a better title than N. & S. would have been ‘Death &
Variations’. There are 5 deaths, each beautifully suited to the character of the individual” (Letter
9
For example, her novels Mary Barton (1848) and Ruth (1853), and her short story “Lizzie Leigh” (1850).
Van Bockstaele 53
to Charles Dickens, 17 December 1854). Despite Gaskell’s appeal for yet another title, North
and South would eventually become the official title of Gaskell second industrial novel and
fourth novel overall.
In addition, as Dickens was the editor of Household Words, he had complete authorial
control of the placement of the periodical’s instalments. Thus, the inaugural instalment of North
and South was not coincidentally published only a few weeks after Dickens’s Hard Times serial
publication had finished. Similar to Gaskell’s North and South, Hard Times also “[...] invents
a fictional industrial town and explores labour unrest in cloth mills; [thus] the relationships
between the characters occur in parallel formations” (Schaub 182). By the mere placement of
the two novels, similarities and differences were sought by the readership10 and critics, both in
the nineteenth century and in the centuries afterwards. In her article “The Serial Reader and the
Corporate Text: Hard Times and North and South” (2013), Schaub argues that Gaskell was “the
decisive victor” (183) concerning their industrial novels and their publication in Household
Words. She substantiates this statement by arguing that both narratives were read in sequence
by the readership as they were published after one another, thus allowing Gaskell to literally
have the last word. In addition, the periodical’s format of publishing in instalments “deemphasized individual authorship” (183), which was appropriate for Dickens’s philosophy
regarding his periodical as he envisioned it to display one single voice with different authors
addressing the same issues in unity. This naturally implied that Dickens’s authoritative voice
was also subdued, placing him neatly alongside Gaskell. Schaub concludes by observing that
due to the thematic resemblance and the time of publication of the narratives, “a regular reader
of the magazine who encountered these novels for the first time in weekly form would have
experienced them as a unified text with a corporate author” (184), a concept which Dickens had
strived for all along. Moreover, Gaskell’s North and South would seem like an answer to the
10
This was naturally encouraged by Dickens who wanted to advertise unity in Household Words.
Van Bockstaele 54
questions posed in Hard Times; “a solution that the polemical urgency of Hard Times gives a
reader to enact” (185). However, this did not imply that Gaskell was as convinced about this
conflation. It seems that Schaub is perhaps too optimistic about the fusion, as there were many
difficulties that preceded the publication of North and South, which contributed to the end of
their collaboration.
Even Elizabeth Gaskell knew that, due to the similarity in subject, some seeming overlap
was a potential consequence. This subsequently caused her to write a letter to Dickens in which
she inquired whether his Hard Times would feature a strike as well11. The strike of the mill
factor labourers in North and South is a pivotal moment in the narrative, after which Mr.
Thornton, the mill owner and love interest of Margaret Hale, starts to make amends and tries to
find a middle ground where both employees and employers can be comfortable and content. As
Collin notes, Gaskell’s awareness of Dickens’s insistence on “the balanced composition of a
number” (qtd. in Jackson 61) is illustrated in this anecdote as she realised how he perhaps would
have liked to incorporate a strike in his narrative as well, merely for the purpose of harmony
across the narratives. In essence, “the dictates of Dickens’s vision” (Jackson 62) appeared to be
the main reason for their editorial disputes. Whereas Gaskell’s knowledge about the publishing
world was seen as limited, a more nuanced attitude should be formed. That is, Gaskell did
comprehend the mechanics of a periodical that was aimed at publishing instalments weekly.
Her refusal to employ cliff-hangers to properly develop the plot in a suitable manner for serial
publication was not a direct result from her supposed incapability to do so. Rather, it
11
In a letter to John Forster, Gaskell wrote that “Oh! I wrote to Mr Dickens, & he says he is not going to have a
strike, – altogether his answer sets me at ease.” This letter was written on the 23th of April 1854, roughly four
months before the last instalment of Hard Times would be published. As Gaskell started writing on North and
South in advance, she could not have known whether Dickens was planning on including a strike as well, hence
her concern.
Van Bockstaele 55
emphasised Gaskell’s unwillingness to simply rely on Dickens and, as observed by Hughes and
Lund, her disagreement with Dickens “about what constituted proper and effective structure for
individual installments” (96);
[...] her conception of the nature of a single part and the relationship of successive parts
departed from the standard that Dickens had established. The ensuing battle between
author and editor about magazine policy involved different narrative aims and rival
assumptions about readers’ pleasure (Hughes and Lund 97)
This was further elaborated upon by Gaskell in a letter to fellow author and friend, Anna
Jameson, which she wrote only a few days after the last instalment of North and South, in
January 1855. In this letter, Gaskell again expressed her discontent with the serial publishing
of the periodical and how it impeded with her other responsibilities and activities. In addition,
she acknowledged that even though she had accepted Dickens’s offer to participate, perhaps
she was persuaded to cooperate with and facilitate the Dickensian vision of which he was so
proud;
I made a half-promise [...] to Mr Dickens, which he understood as a whole one; and
though I had the plot and characters in my head long ago, I have often been in despair
about the working of them out; because of course, in this way of publishing it, I had to
write pretty hard without waiting for the happy leisure hours (Letter to Anna Jameson,
January 1855).
In addition, she noted that she had initially expected to fill twenty-two numbers, which would
amount to five months of writing. Gaskell anticipated that twenty-two numbers would be too
few to convey the entire narrative properly, yet ultimately she would only be given twenty
numbers, which naturally left her unsatisfied. Gaskell felt that North and South had to be rushed
Van Bockstaele 56
in favour of the format of Dickens’s periodical, which caused further disgruntlement between
Dickens and herself, and which urged her to vent about these imposed restrictions afterwards;
[...] And then 20 numbers was, I found my allowance; instead of the too scant 22, which
I had fancied were included in ‘five months’; and at last the story is huddled & hurried
up; especially in the rapidity with which the sudden death of Mr Bell, succeeds to the
sudden death of Mr Hale. But what could I do? Every page was grudged to me, just at
last, when I did certainly infringe all the bounds & limits they set me as to quantity. Just
at the very last i was compelled to desperate compression (Letter to Anna Jameson,
January 1855)
Malfait rightfully questions why Gaskell, and many of the other contributors, did not simply
end the cooperation. She poses that one of the explanations might be as simple as the
remuneration, which was more than sufficient for the time; “a guinea for a two-column page of
prose, double or more for poetry, and by arrangement for serial fiction” (89). As Malfait also
observes, Gaskell was dumbfounded when she earned £20 for the publication of her short story
“Lizzie Leigh” (1850), debating in a letter to Eliza Fox whether she were “swindling them”
(89).
The End of Their Liaison
After the serial publication of North and South, the relationship between Dickens and
Gaskell had taken a turn for the worse. It would not take long before Gaskell would abandon
Dickens’s authorial and editorial control. Gaskell submitted only one other larger work of
fiction to Household Words, the novella entitled My Lady Ludlow, published in 1858. Two
years later, in 1860, the Cornhill Magazine was founded. For this she ultimately left Dickens’s
Van Bockstaele 57
periodical. However, some of Gaskell’s short stories12 continued to be published in Household
Words until 1863, which according to Hopkins “in the light of later developments, [ceased to
make her happy] as a contributor to his magazine” (376). Already in 1862, Gaskell was asked
to contribute to a new periodical, yet she declined as she asserted that “she was not in the habit
of writing for periodicals and had previously done so only ‘as a personal mark of respect &
regard to Mr Dickens’ and concluded, ‘I dislike & disapprove of such writing for myself as a
general thing’” (qtd. in Vann 68). It was a final remark directed towards Dickens and underneath
there were clear echoes which displayed how the agitation between the author and the editor
still had not been completely resolved. Even though she disliked the periodical format, those
short stories would not be her last periodical contribution. That is, Cousin Phillis was published
in the Cornhill Magazine in 1863, which must have left Dickens annoyed once again, as Gaskell
“shifted her patronage” (Hopkins 382) precisely when he was in need of another lengthy serial.
It is clear that by 1863 Dickens had lost his patriarchal authority over Gaskell who was
reassured by the knowledge that “on the score of her literary reputation she could afford to sever
her connection with Dickens' magazine” (Hopkins 383). Moreover, Gaskell’s last and most
lengthy novel was published in the Cornhill Magazine as well. Wives and Daughters was
serialised for eighteenth months, from the initial publication in Augustus 1864 to the final
instalment in January 1866. Gaskell never finished the narrative herself, as she died in 1865.
However, the disharmony in Gaskell and Dickens’s relationship was not the only reason
why Gaskell decided to cease contributing to Household Words. As always, money played a
part too. Hopkins observes that, George Smith, founder of the Cornhill Magazine and member
of the publishing firm Smith, Elder and Co., had proceeded to install a procedure in which he
doubled the usual rates for magazine contributors, in order to “increase the prestige of his
12
For example, “An Italian Institution”, “The Cage at Cranford” – which was a supplement of her Cranford series
–, and “How the First Floor Went to Crowley Castle” (Hopkins 381).
Van Bockstaele 58
journal” (382). In addition, Smith knew Gaskell’s work, as his publishing company had printed
Sylvia’s Lovers (1863)13. Subsequently, he offered her “£2000 for a seven-years’ copyright of
a work of fiction” (382)14, which she accepted as it enabled her to buy a house in the countryside
in southern England, something which she had always wanted to do. A more significant reason
for her choice was the prospect of working for a monthly periodical rather than the weekly
periodical Household Words. A monthly periodical such as the Cornhill would allow her to
publish “in large sections that would invite the reader into the atmosphere of a story with a
leisurely opening [...] and hold his interest until the time was ripe for something to ‘happen’”
(382-383). Finally, Hopkins asserts that a last reason why Gaskell decided to contribute to the
Cornhill Magazine is that its literary level was of a higher standard. Contributing to Smith’s
periodical would place her among names such as Matthew Arnold, Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
George Eliot, George Henry Lewes, Alfred Tennyson, and William Makepeace Thackeray,
which would consequently heighten her literary status as well (383).
Gaskell saw an opportunity to escape the yoke of Dickens and she did not hesitate to grab
the offer with both hands. Furthermore, the appealing and considerable fee and the prospect of
working amongst other literary celebrities made the decision much easier. The timing of the
launch of the Cornhill Magazine simply could not have begun at a better time for Elizabeth
Gaskell.
13
Their acquaintance would become even more valuable when Gaskell started researching for her biography of
Charlotte Brontë, as Eliot provided her with much information.
14
Even though this amount seems excessive compared to the £20 Gaskell received for her short story “Lizzie
Leigh” when it was published in Household Words, this fee is another example of the difference between male
and female authorship and how it was evaluated. Female writers earned much less than their male counterparts,
which is also exemplified in Gaskell’s case as she was paid £2000 whereas Collins earned £5000 for his Armadale,
even though both narratives were published in the Cornhill Magazine by Smith, Elder and Company (Malfait 123).
Van Bockstaele 59
Elizabeth Gaskell and Charlotte Brontë
The Start of Their Mutual Appreciation
Whereas the relation between Elizabeth Gaskell and Charles Dickens was one which entailed a
lot of disagreements and disputes, the bond between Gaskell and fellow woman writer Charlotte
Brontë was much more refined and friendly. It developed and continued to evolve in an
affiliation which would eventually lead to Gaskell’s famous biography of Brontë, first
published in 1857. In addition to her fictional work Cranford, this biography would add to
Gaskell’s immortality and popularity as a nineteenth-century woman writer. Gaskell and Brontë
first became acquainted in 1850, when Gaskell was still affiliated with Dickens (cf. supra). Both
women were invited by Sir James and Lady Kay-Shuttleworth to an assemblage at Briery Close,
Windermere, on the 19th of August 1850 (Pollard 453). The Kay-Shuttleworths were a powerful
socialite couple from Lancashire, who happily wanted to provide patronage for respected
authors like Brontë and Gaskell. The gathering, which was the first meeting between Gaskell
and Brontë, was fruitful and amicable, and it led to one of the most well-known biographies
only five years later. Before their meeting, Gaskell had already written a letter to Lady KayShuttleworth, inquiring about Charlotte Brontë and breaking the possibility of meeting her.
Gaskell had not met Brontë before, even though Brontë had sent her a copy of her novel Shirley
in November 1849. In the letter, Gaskell expressed her desire to meet Brontë, after which she
talked a great deal about Shirley, which she did not seem to appreciate entirely. The author of
Shirley, however, could count on a great deal of admiration by Gaskell. Even before Gaskell
and Brontë would meet in person, Gaskell was already curious about Brontë, and more
specifically, “the mind and emotions of the individual behind the novelist” (Pollard 454);
[…] No! I never heard of Miss Brontë’s visit [to Lady Kay-Shuttleworth]; and I should
like to hear a great deal more about her, as I have been so much interested in the story
Van Bockstaele 60
and mode of narration, wonderful as that I, but in the glimpses one gets of her, and her
modes of thought, and, all unconsciously to herself, of the way in [which] she has
suffered. […] I should like very much indeed to know her: I was going to write to ‘see’
her, but that is not it. I think I told you that I disliked a good deal in the plot of Shirley,
but the expression of her own thoughts in it so true and brave, that I greatly admire her.
[…] (Letter to Lady Kay-Shuttleworth, 14 May 1850).
After their first meeting, Gaskell’s impression of Brontë did not diminish. Indeed, she voiced
her feelings in a number of letters to various correspondents (cf. infra). It became immediately
clear that their friendship, albeit only a short one, would leave a profound impression on Gaskell
who would subsequently devote a lot of her time to the portrayal of Brontë. This portrayal
would focus on Brontë both as a woman novelist and as a woman in nineteenth-century society.
Even after only one meeting, Gaskell had already accumulated a lot of information on Brontë
and had formed an overall positive opinion of the fellow novelist. The only negative aspect
which Gaskell was quick to address were Brontë’s living circumstances15. Gaskell felt that
Brontë’s family home had influenced her greatly, which led Gaskell to incorporate this issue in
the biography as well. Nevertheless, in a letter to Charlotte Froude16, Gaskell described in
unmistakable terms how she had admired Brontë from the very beginning of their relation;
[…] Our only interruption has been my going from home for three days to stay at Lady
Kay Shuttleworth’s to meet Miss Brontë. […] Miss Bronte I like. Her faults are the
15
For example, Gaskell’s letter to Catherine Winkworth of 25 August 1850 comprises Gaskell’s meeting with
Charlotte Brontë at Briery Close. In the letter Gaskell detailed everything she had learned about Brontë’s family
history. Due to the restrictions of a word limit, this letter can be found in the appendix.
16
The complete letter to Charlotte Froude can be found in the appendix, as Gaskell again addressed the harsh
living circumstances that Brontë had to grow up in, which subsequently influenced Brontë in her later life.
Van Bockstaele 61
faults of the very peculiar circumstances in which she was placed; and she possesses a
charming union of simplicity and power; and a strong feeling of responsibility for the
Gift, which she has given her. […] She and I quarrelled & differed about almost every
thing, […] but we like each other heartily \I think/ & I hope we shall ripen into friends.
[…] (Letter to Charlotte Froude, 25 August 1850).
This initial impression of Charlotte Brontë, which Gaskell inherently linked with Brontë’s
childhood, would never fully change after their first acquaintance. Gaskell experienced the
“peculiar circumstances” which she presumed had influenced Brontë’s later life and writings
first-hand when she visited Brontë in Haworth in September 1853, as all Gaskell encountered
was “gloom, harshness and severity” (Pollard 455). Her focus on one aspect of Brontë’s life
shows how she was determined to portray Brontë in a particular way. This distinct take on her
subject’s life was also articulated by Bloom, and her approach accumulated quite a lot of
criticism (cf. infra);
One of her primary motives in writing Brontë’s autobiography was to counter the many
critics who accused the novelist [...] of being “coarse.” By emphasising the personal
tragedy in Brontë’s life, Gaskell offset this charge by instead trying to show how
suffering, not immortality, shaped her subject’s vision (9).
Unfortunately, the relationship between Gaskell and Brontë was short-lived. Brontë died on the
31st of March 1855, almost five years after the initial gathering in Windermere. Gaskell first
learned of Charlotte Brontë’s death by means of a letter written by John Greenwood. On the 4th
of April in 1855, she replied to Greenwood, expressing grief and sadness for the loss of her dear
friend. This letter revealed Gaskell and Brontë’s close attachment and the bond they had formed
even after a short period of time;
Van Bockstaele 62
I can not tell you how VERY sad your note has made me. My dear dear friend that I
shall never see again on earth! I did not even know she was ill. [...] You may well say
you have lost your best friend; strangers might know her by her fame, but we loved her
dearly for her goodness, truth, and kindness, & those lovely qualities she carried with
her where she is gone. [...] I loved her dearly, more than I think she knew. I shall never
cease to be thankful that I know her: or to mourn her loss (Letter to John Greenwood, 4
April 1855)
In this letter in which Gaskell articulated her heartache, she was already inquisitive as she
questioned John Greenwood about the particularities of Brontë’s death; “I want to know
EVERY particular. Has she been long ill? What was her illness? You would oblige me
extremely if you would, at your earliest leisure, send me every detail”. This quest for
information continued, as she asked Greenwood in a later letter for even more information;
[...] But I bear your suggestion in mind, & let us have patience, & not forget our dear
friend, & the time may come when we may do her some little tribute of honour & love.
Every [thing] you can tell me about her & her sisters – of her especially is most valuable
(Letter to John Greenwood, 5 May 1855).
Even before Gaskell was officially asked to commemorate Charlotte Brontë by means of a
biography, she was already in the process of obtaining information concerning the peculiarities
of Brontë’s death and the details of her life. Already at the end of May in 1855, she enunciated
her desire to honour Brontë in a letter to George Smith. She asserted how a memorial of Brontë
would be desirable and something which she would like to be affiliated with. Yet again,
Gaskell’s preoccupation with Brontë’s harsh living conditions was apparent in this letter.
Gaskell had highlighted this aspect of Brontë’s life in various correspondences, which shows
how Gaskell disapproved of and was dismayed by this particular segment of Brontë’s life. This
Van Bockstaele 63
disapproval explains Gaskell’s approach in The Life of Charlotte Brontë. Gaskell ultimately
wanted to create a biography in which Brontë’s literary ambitions and accomplishments would
be accentuated, as Brontë managed to achieve literary fame despite the difficulties she had to
endure during her upbringing. Moreover, Gaskell wanted to provide a viewpoint which
addressed Brontë as a woman, in addition to the novelist everyone knew and appreciated;
I can not tell you how I honoured & loved her. I did not know of her illness, or I would
have gone straight to her. It seems to me that her death was as sad as her life. Sometime,
it may be years hence – but if I live long enough, and no one is living whom such a
publication would hurt, I will publish what I know of her, and make the world (if I am
but strong enough in expression,) honour the woman as much as they have admired the
writer (Letter to George Smith, 31 May 1855).
However, Gaskell’s initial focus was on documenting her recollections of Brontë in a private
manner; she had no ambition to publish at that point, which is also apparent from a lengthy
letter17 Gaskell wrote to George Smith on the 18th of June 1855. Gaskell ended her letter with
the idea of writing down “her own personal recollections” of Charlotte Brontë, as she was
frightened that a too detailed account might cause pain as the grief and feelings of loss were
still too fresh;
I thought that I would simply write down my own personal recollections of her, from
the time we first met at Sir J.K. Shuttleworth’s, telling {all}\what was right & fitting of
what/she told me of her past life, and here & there copying out characteristic extracts
from her letters. {describing} \I could describe/the wild bleakness of Haworth &
speaking of the love & honour in which she was held there. But (from the tenor of
17
The complete letter can be found in the appendix.
Van Bockstaele 64
Greenwood’s first letter.) you will see that this sort of record of her could not be made
public at present without giving pain (Letter to George Smith, 4 June 1855).
By all means, the various letters that Gaskell sent and the numerous requests for information
detail how eager she was to document the life of Charlotte Brontë, even before anyone had
asked her to do so. However, such a request would come soon enough, as Patrick Brontë,
Charlotte’s father, wrote to Gaskell on the 16th of June 1855, in which he appealed to Gaskell
to engage in the commemorative task of writing Charlotte Brontë’s biographical account.
Patrick Brontë and Charlotte Brontë’s widower, Arthur Bell Nicholls, with whom she was
married for only nine months at the time of her death, required an accurate depiction of
Charlotte Brontë’s life. Both men were saddened by the works that had already been published
after Charlotte’s death; “the old blind father and the bereaved husband read the confused eulogy
and criticism [which appeared quickly after Brontë’s rather unexpected death], sometimes with
a sad pleasure at the praise, oftener with a sadder pain at the grotesque inaccuracy” (Shorter 4).
By means of a biography which was written by an acquaintance of the family, both her father
and her husband hoped that misconceptions would cease to exist. Gaskell was at first surprised
by such a request and even anxious to undertake such a task. Her reservations were expressed
in a letter of the 18th of June 1855 to George Smith, her publisher, written only two days after
Rev. Patrick Brontë’s initial letter;
I have received (most unexpectedly) the enclosed letter from Mr. Brontë, I have taken
some time to consider the request made in it, but I have consented to write it, as well as
I can. Of course it becomes a more serious task than the one which, as you know, I was
proposing to myself, to put down my personal recollections &c, with no intention of
immediate publication, –if indeed of publication at all. I shall have now to omit a good
deal of detail as to her home, and the circumstances, which must have had so much to
Van Bockstaele 65
do in forming her character. [...] I am very anxious to perform this grave duty laid upon
me well and fully (Letter to George Smith, 18 June 1855).
Gaskell realised that, by writing for Patrick Brontë and Arthur Bell Nicholls, her artistic
freedom would be restricted. Gaskell could not be as straightforward as she would have liked
since the possibility of patriarchal censorship was apparent. Gaskell had only intended to
document her private memories, but the task ahead needed a more professional approach which
initially intimidated her. This apprehension was further complicated by the realisation that she
had to write about people who were still alive at that time. Incorporating those people in her
commemorative work would not be easily accomplished, as Gaskell had to make sure that she
did not depict them too negatively. As Pollard poses, writing a biographical account means that
not only the subject is of importance, but also the others who are an integral part of the subject’s
life and thus affected by the writing (547). Therefore, Gaskell had to find a method of writing
about Charlotte Brontë which would not disrespect the other parties involved, something in
which she was not always successful (cf. infra).
However, Gaskell’s eagerness prevailed and her admirable work ethic soon was on full
display. Gaskell embarked on a quest to fulfil her assigned task, which for a competent and
skilled author such as herself, who by that time had already written four novels, was probably
a very rewarding assignment. Whereas Foley believes that with The Life of Charlotte Brontë,
Gaskell “was aggressively furthering her own career, without admitting it” (40), this statement
seems a bit severe as Gaskell already was a respectable author by then. Especially with her
novel Cranford, Gaskell had gained a faithful readership and a considerable professional status
which was admired by contemporaries, such as the literary authority Charles Dickens.
Therefore, it is unlikely that the prospect of literary fame was the predominant ambition of
Gaskell when she started the reconstruction of the life of her beloved colleague and friend. It
seems more likely that Gaskell’s main motivation to commemorate Charlotte Brontë simply
Van Bockstaele 66
was their friendship, which was deeply rooted as a result of mutual visits and a constant
correspondence between the two. The letters she wrote to various people after Brontë’s death
support this assumption. Furthermore, the way in which Gaskell approached her assignment
also demonstrates the effort with which she tried to immortalise Brontë, which will be discussed
in the following subchapter.
The Writing of The Life of Charlotte Brontë
Gaskell’s biography of Charlotte Brontë was one of many biographies in the nineteenth century.
Especially in the first quarter of the nineteenth century, the biographical genre was quite
popular; “[n]ineteenth-century interest in the personal lives of authors, whether details of their
‘actual’ biography or a biography carefully constructed for public consumption [...] was [...] in
part a legacy of the Romantic emphasis on an intimate connection between expressive
authenticity and felt experience” (Guy 19). Gaskell’s feelings towards the biographical genre,
however, were not unambiguous. Gaskell was troubled by the task of conveying true feelings
whilst at the same time being authentic, as she argued that a person’s psychological dimension
could never be analysed in-depth. Her solution was to focus on indisputable facts and letters,
which provided a valuable insight in the workings of an author’s mind, and of the person behind
the literary persona that he or she had created. Moreover, Gaskell knew the value of letters, as
a nineteenth-century critic had already observed that “letters […] offer, certainly, the most
important materials to biographical composition … letters lay open the communication of [the
writer’s] very thoughts and purposes” (qtd. in Pollard 459). Thus, Gaskell used Brontë’s letters
as a framework of reference to detail Brontë’s life. Not surprisingly, when Gaskell started the
process of writing Charlotte Brontë’s biography, the employed framework did not emphasise
“intricate psychological exploration and analysis” (Pollard 458). Rather, its outline focused
upon the facts; the places where she was brought up, the historical remnants and, perhaps most
importantly, “letting [Charlotte Brontë] speak for herself” (Pollard 458). Gaskell’s extensive
Van Bockstaele 67
research was aimed at ensuring that the reader would be given a complete representation of
Charlotte Brontë. As summarised by Shorter in 1896;
Mrs. Gaskell possessed a higher ideal of a biographer's duties. She spared no pains to
find out the facts; she visited every spot associated with the name of Charlotte Bronte
—Thornton, Haworth, Cowan Bridge, Birstall, Brussels— and she wrote countless
letters to the friends of Charlotte Bronte's earlier days (4).
Gaskell did not see the merits of trying to interpret Brontë’s character, which she articulated
explicitly in The Life of Charlotte Brontë. In the fourteenth chapter of the second volume
Gaskell asserted that “I have little more to say. If my readers find that I have not said enough,
I have said too much. I cannot measure or judge of such a character as hers. I cannot map out
vices, and virtues, and debatable land”. Gaskell’s emphasis on Brontë having the last word was
an aspect which she had already touched upon in a letter to Ellen Nussey, one of Charlotte
Brontë’s closest friends, whom Brontë had known since she was fifteen; “I am sure the more
fully she – Charlotte Brontë – the friend, the daughter, the sister, the wife, is known, and known
where need be in her own words, the more highly she will be appreciated” (Letter to Ellen
Nussey, 6 September 1855). Moreover, in the first paragraph of the twelfth chapter of the
second volume of The Life, Gaskell again stressed how she wanted to honour Charlotte Brontë
whilst at the same time maintaining the integrity of those involved. Her initial resolution was
to employ a method in which honesty was preferable. However, at the end of the paragraph
doubt about this approach was inserted, as Gaskell realised that utter candidness would not be
appreciated by everyone, which subsequently left her no other choice but to edit Brontë’s
biographical account and omit certain aspects and interventions which could be regarded as
disrespectful;
Van Bockstaele 68
The difficulty that presented itself most strongly to me, when I first had the honour of
being requested to write this biography, was how I could show what a noble, true, and
tender woman Charlotte Brontë really was, without mingling up with her life too much
of the personal history of her nearest and most intimate friends. After much
consideration of this point, I came to the resolution of writing truly, if I wrote at all; of
withholding nothing, though some things, from their very nature, could not be spoken
of so fully as others.
Perhaps this is why Gaskell opposed the possibility of her own biography, and even requested
for her letters to be burned. She felt that even though you could display the setting, the historical
facts, and the circumstantial observations, those aspects did not constitute a person as a whole;
intricate and complex psychological factors lay beneath the surface and these were not easy to
reveal. As a result of Gaskell’s understanding of the negative aspects of writing a
commemorative work, only limited information about Gaskell’s life is available. Additionally,
after the publication of The Life, the criticism she received certainly had its impact as well, as
it “[persuaded] her that all biographical literature was intolerable and undesirable” (Shorter 4).
This unrest about the writing of a memoir was also articulated in a letter to George Smith, in
which she asked for some further information about Brontë’s life and in which she again
expressed her worries concerning her subject’s portrayal;
I will take care, as she would have wished me to be, and be [sic] very moderate &
discreet in the use of any materials I may obtain. But until I can form some idea of the
amount of information &c to be obtained I can not make any plan about her Life. I am
very much afraid of not doing it as it ought to be done; distinct and delicate and
thoroughly well. But I will do my very best (Letter to George Smith, July 1855).
Van Bockstaele 69
Gaskell was meticulous when she first started her research, since her desire to present the
readers with a truthful portrait of her friend caused her to research her subject “thoroughly
well”. Thus, in July 1855 she wrote to Ellen Nussey to “make [...] personal acquaintance” and
arrange a visit rather than simply reading Nussey’s letters, which Mr Nicholls18 had promised
Gaskell as Nussey was so informed about Brontë’s life.
Gaskell’s sense of responsibility and duty concerning the accurate portrayal of Brontë
demonstrated how Gaskell, who was by then a middle-aged woman, was much more assertive
than when she first became one of the contributors in Dickens’s Household Words. As Foley
observes; “[w]hat was astonishing was the energy and efficiency with which Gaskell researched
and wrote The Life. Now in her mid-forties, Gaskell seemed at the peak of her power” (43).
This sense of her developing prowess was reflected in, for example, numerous letters to George
Smith in which she complained about his tardiness. These letters show a determined author who
was not willing to be pigeonholed, and who wanted to create a non-fictional product worth
publishing. It is a clear contrast to the younger Gaskell who worked with Charles Dickens,
whose popularity and authority subdued her innate confident nature, at least in the beginning
of their professional relationship. In a letter of 10 October 1855, Gaskell urgently requested
some information from George Smith;
I am becoming very anxious to receive any materials you find you can furnish me with
for my memoir of Miss Brontë. I want to know what I have to build up my life upon,
before I begin upon the Sketch which I have prepared (Letter to George Smith, 10
October 1855).
18
Brontë’s husband, Arthur Bell Nicholls, was urged by Patrick Brontë to give Gaskell detailed information that
would have been difficult to obtain otherwise, including insight in Brontë’s friendship with Nussey.
Van Bockstaele 70
However, when George Smith still had not replied ten days after her initial request, Gaskell
showed her discontentment with his tardiness. His lack of attention to send her the materials
she needed to further her research caused her concern. The following excerpt shows how
Gaskell, in her attempt to deliver a truthful memoir of Charlotte Brontë, did not hesitate to urge
men to emulate the pace at which she worked;
Relying on your promise of putting at my disposal any papers or letters in your
possession which might assist me in writing my Memoir of Miss Brontë, I wrote to you
ten days ago to claim its fulfillment; and I have been both surprised & disappointed that
so long a time has elapsed without your forwarding me the promised materials (Letter
to George Smith, 20 October 1855).
These letters serve as evidence to prove how devoted Gaskell was to her assigned task. They
show her frustration when others did not comply with her expectations and standards. Even
though Gaskell’s devotion to Brontë’s biography was remarkable, it did not preclude the
criticism that followed. In the following subchapter, the critique that followed after the
publication of The Life will be examined. Especially Gaskell’s description of people who were
still alive was cause for much consternation. Additionally, how she incorporated certain events
and provided a particular perspective on them evoked consternation as well, for example
Charlotte Brontë’s affections for her employer and Patrick Branwell’s supposed affiliation with
a married woman.
Criticism on The Life of Charlotte Brontë
Gaskell could not escape the criticism that she received shortly after the publication of The Life
of Charlotte Brontë. Gaskell travelled to Rome soon after the publication of the first edition in
1857, and she was quite shocked by the negative criticism with which the biography had been
received on her return to England. As Foley notes, Gaskell had always intended to “[portray]
Van Bockstaele 71
Brontë as an admirable woman, which cannot have been interpreted as a rebel or genius whose
life transcended the constraints of gender, but as a woman who, despite the genius and rebellion
of her writing, was a conventional, dutiful, selfless, angel in the house” (41-42). Interestingly
enough, this observation by Foley could have been easily applied to Gaskell herself. In their
writings, both women sought to explore aspects of everyday life which highlighted how
Victorian women were left unsatisfied as they were restricted to the domestic, feminine sphere.
Charlotte Brontë addressed the position of the governess in the much discussed and debated
Jane Eyre (1847). Gaskell concentrated on aspects of female sexuality, by means of, for
example, the fallen woman in Ruth (1853) or by means of women who transgressed social
boundaries in her industrial novels Mary Barton (1848) and North and South (1854), while
simultaneously addressing the economic, political, and social wrongdoings that existed.
However, at the same time, Gaskell was keen on preserving her image as a dutiful wife of a
Unitarian minister, as a mother of four daughters, and as a woman who was concerned with
those who were less fortunate than she was. Similarities between the two women were
prevalent, which strengthened their initial bond even more. However, Gaskell’s approach of
omitting certain aspects of Brontë’s life was criticised extensively. In numerous letters to
various correspondents, Gaskell voiced her sadness regarding the amount of criticism that she
had received. Interestingly enough, other people had foreseen the difficulties that would ensue
with the publication of such a memoir, as Gaskell noted in a letter to Smith that; “[Miss Mary
Taylor]19 says in a letter to Miss Nussey. Does Mrs Gaskell know ‘what a nest of hornets she
is pulling about her ears?’” (Letter to George Smith, 11 February 1857). Gaskell referred to
Taylor’s statement in a letter to Rev. R.S. Oldham as well, in which she also reaffirmed the
necessity of her work and her dutiful attitude towards it;
19
Mary Taylor was, much like Ellen Nussey, a close acquaintance of Charlotte Brontë.
Van Bockstaele 72
I was under a solemn promise to write the Life, - although I shrank from the task; against
which I was warned by one who knew all the circumstances well, as ‘certain to pull a
hornet’s nest about my ears.’ But it did not seem to me right to shrink from {a duty}
\the work/ as soon as it appeared to me in the light of a duty. To do it at all was necessary
to tell painful truths. Like all pieces of human life, faithfully told there must be some
great lesson to be learnt (Letter to Rev. R.S. Oldham, 1 June 1857).
When Gaskell heard of the criticism regarding The Life of Charlotte Brontë after its publication,
she recalled Taylor’s words once more in a letter to Ellen Nussey; “I am in the Hornet’s nest
with a vengeance” (Letter to Ellen Nussey, 16 June 1857). In the same letter, Gaskell continued,
expressing her distress and heartache regarding the critical reception of the biography;
I am writing as if I were in famous spirits, and I think I am so angry that I am almost
merry in my bitterness, if you know that state of feeling; but I have cried more since I
came home that [sic] I ever did in the same space of time before; and never needed kind
words so much, –& no one gives them. I did so try to tell the truth & I believe now I
hit as near the truth as any one could do. And I weighed every line with all my whole
power & heart, so that every line should go to it’s great purpose of making her known
& valued, as one who had gone through such a terrible life with a brave & faithful heart
(Letter to Ellen Nussey, 16 June 1857).
Gaskell resorted to writing to one of Brontë’s best friends to ease her mind after the initial
reviews of The Life. Someone who was so closely acquainted with Brontë surely would realise
how Gaskell tried to create an image of Charlotte Brontë which could and would be appreciated
by all readers and by the people who were involved in Brontë’s life. Gaskell was reassured by
Mary Taylor, as she postulated that Gaskell’s portrayal of Brontë’s living circumstances was
accurate. The decision to emphasise Brontë’s poor living conditions was critiqued on multiple
Van Bockstaele 73
occasions. Gaskell was accused of omitting many of the pleasant moments which Brontë had
experienced and which were conveyed in letters as well. For example, Charlotte Brontë was
close to her sisters, with whom she shared many joyful memories. However, Shorter asserts that
“taken as a whole, the life of Charlotte Brontë was among the saddest in literature” (14). On 30
July 1857, Mary Taylor wrote to Gaskell that;
The book is a perfect success, in giving a true picture of melancholy life, and you have
practically answered my puzzle as to how you would give an account of her, not being
at liberty to give a true description of those around. Though not so gloomy as the truth,
it is perhaps as much so as people will accept without calling it exaggerated, and feeling
the desire to doubt and contradict it (Letter to Elizabeth Gaskell, 30 July 1857).
Mary Taylor, who had been a close friend of Charlotte Brontë throughout her entire life, would
have known how valid and truthful Gaskell’s text was. Her reassurance must have eased
Gaskell’s mind. Taylor even asserted that Gaskell was not too harsh in The Life of Charlotte
Brontë, as reality had been worse; “though not so gloomy as the truth”. Critical reactions with
regards to the bleakness of the biography, which were linked to Gaskell’s supposed insincerity
thus seem unfounded, as even Brontë’s closest friends complimented Gaskell on her
earnestness. However, the mere observation that Gaskell wanted to produce a particular image
of Brontë stirred some controversy, as some critics felt that she consciously downplayed the
professional attitude of Charlotte Brontë and Brontë’s desires and affections which were not
always considered respectable and modest enough to nineteenth-century societal standards.
In her article “Triangulation, Desire, and Discontent in ‘The Life of Charlotte Brontë’”
(2007), Linda H. Peterson is critical of Gaskell’s portrait of her deceased friend, as she asserts
that “[…] at various points in the Life, Gaskell excludes portions of Brontë’s letters that deal
with publishers’ terms, contracts for manuscripts, and other practical aspects of midcentury
authorship” (914), which would imply that Gaskell consciously portrayed Brontë as less
Van Bockstaele 74
professional than she was. Peterson further elaborates on this issue, as she also notes that
“Gaskell minimizes the professional aspects of Brontë’s career, excludes financial details when
she extracts from Brontë’s letters, and shows her subject as much more interested in ideas than
in profits” (915). However, it would seem that some noble cause was hidden underneath
Gaskell’s actions. After all, Gaskell knew and had experienced herself how fragile the status of
women writers was, which is why she did not want to focus solely on Brontë’s professionalism.
Gaskell’s editorial choices characterised Brontë as less of a professional author as she probably
was, which consequentially explains why Gaskell received so much criticism for it. Peterson
states that Gaskell’s editorial decisions were questionable;
it is unclear whether Gaskell avoids the mid-nineteenth-century discourse of
professionalism because she felt it inappropriate for the “proper lady” [...], because she
felt Brontë’s character might be injured by it, or because she felt it might lower the
status of the Victorian woman writer (“Triangulation, Desire, and Discontent” 915).
However, the reason for the exclusion of such information on Gaskell’s part was perhaps due
to an adoption of all three reasons that Peterson has provided. Gaskell was familiar with what
was considered female occupations and thus she aimed to portray Brontë in such a way that her
status, both as a woman and as a writer, would not be diminished after her death. It seems
unlikely that Gaskell would deliberately depict Brontë as less professional or less
knowledgeable about publishing matters. Various letters indicate that Gaskell was herself a
hands on business woman and, even more so, that she was adamant that her propositions were
heard. However, her public image was much more refined; in the public eye she was the epitome
of the angel in the house, the domestic goddess who was mainly concerned with household
responsibilities. Yet, this did not mean that Gaskell, or Brontë for that matter, did not know
their way in the public, male-dominated sphere, as also d’Albertis notes;
Van Bockstaele 75
both Brontë and Gaskell responded to economic and social pressures within the world
of Victorian publishing, becoming fluent in the male regulation of that world even as
they marketed themselves as specifically female, and hence external contributors to it
(“Bookmaking Out of the Remains of the Dead” 20).
Nevertheless, d’Albertis is critical of Gaskell’s intentions as well, as she states that “Gaskell’s
biography displays a disguised form of literary competition with Brontë, a desire to memorialize
her rival’s life, and in doing so, to subordinate the other woman as the subject of her text”
(“Bookmaking Out of the Remains of the Dead” 2). d’Albertis’s analysis appears harsh in the
light of Gaskell and Brontë’s correspondence, in which it becomes clear that they mutually
appreciated each other greatly. It is improbable that Gaskell identified Brontë as a literary rival.
Rather, she considered Brontë a respectable companion and dear friend with whom she had
developed a profound relationship. Arguably, their friendship developed quite late in Charlotte
Brontë’s life, which implies that it “never reached the stage of downright intimacy” (Shorter 8).
Therefore, Gaskell had to rely extensively on letters Brontë had written to various other
correspondents. However, Gaskell’s intention with The Life was anything but attempting to
dominate and ultimately overshadow Brontë in her writing, which finds its proof in the letters
Gaskell wrote after Brontë’s death and in the biography itself.
Another criticised aspect of The Life was Gaskell’s decision to exclude Charlotte
Brontë’s affections for her Belgian lecturer, Constantin Heger. In 1842, Charlotte and her
younger sister Emily travelled to Brussels where they first enrolled at the Pensionnat Heger, a
boarding school owned by Constantin Heger and his spouse Claire Zoé Parent Heger. Shortly
after their enrolment, they were asked to stay and teach for which they would receive
remuneration and board. The roles were divided as such that Emily occupied herself with
teaching music, whereas Charlotte taught English. However, the arrangement was short-lived
as Charlotte and Emily had to return to Haworth shortly after their arrival due to the sudden
Van Bockstaele 76
death of their aunt and surrogate mother, Elizabeth Branwell, in October 1842. Charlotte Brontë
returned to the boarding school in Brussels a few months later, in January 1843, where she
again took up a teaching position. Her return to Brussels was anything but satisfying, as she felt
homesick and isolated without the company of her sister. Additionally, her ever-growing
affection for Constantin Heger also caused her deep distress. Only a year after she had left her
home for the second time, in January 1844, Charlotte Brontë returned to Haworth. Gaskell’s
choice to eliminate this aspect of Brontë’s life is questionable, as it is an event which shaped
Brontë’s life, career, and the themes in all of her novels. This is echoed by Alexander, who
believes that “[…] her Brussels experience had been one of personal and professional growth,
and it furnished her with significant material for her later novels, especially The Professor and
Villette”. Even her best-known novel entitled Jane Eyre, which was originally titled Jane Eyre:
An Autobiography (1847), was based on Brontë’s life; the original title clearly supports this
comparison. More specifically, the novel described her affection for Constantin Heger by means
of her portrayal of the governess Jane who develops feelings for her employer, Mr. Rochester.
In contrast to Charlotte Brontë, the protagonist ultimately finds true love with Mr. Rochester.
Gaskell’s exclusion of this particular segment of Brontë’s life, her unrequited love for Heger,
was again reason for critics to disapprove of and condemn Gaskell’s approach. They believed
that it was one of many aspects Gaskell chose to ignore. Once more, Gaskell’s decision to omit
this particular event in Brontë’s life can be explained considering Gaskell’s resolution to depict
Brontë as an admirable woman and author. Brontë’s inappropriate affections for a married man
would by all means have influenced that image.
In addition to this episode of Brontë’s life, there were other facets which caused
annoyance. Some of them were articulated by Clement K. Shorter in 1896, when he wrote a
biography entitled “The Brontes and Their Circle” which was “an addition of entirely new
material to the romantic story of the Brontes” (3). He noted, for instance, how Yorkshire
Van Bockstaele 77
inhabitants were disgruntled with how Gaskell had described their county. However, this
discontentment was nothing compared to the resistance that would ensue due to the so-called
“Cowan Bridge controversy” (Shorter 13). This dispute refers to Brontë’s “first [traumatic]
experience of institutional schooling” (Alexander). In September 1824, Charlotte, her younger
sister Emily, and her two older sisters Elizabeth and Maria were enrolled at the Clergy
Daughters’ School at Cowan Bridge in Lancashire. The school had been founded by Rev.
William Carus Wilson in 1823; he would later be used as the example upon which Charlotte
Brontë based the character of Mr. Brocklehurst in Jane Eyre. The school’s conditions where
harsh, and in 1825 the combination of the strict regime, the insufficient nutrition, and typhoid
fever caused numerous deaths. Both Maria and Elizabeth died, and Patrick Brontë removed his
other two daughters from the institution. In her later life, Charlotte Brontë incorporated this
traumatic event in Jane Eyre; “her distress and her bitterness towards the school are
immortalized in the portrayal of Lowood School [which was based on the Clergy Daughters’
School]” (Alexander). In The Life of Charlotte Brontë, Gaskell “defended the description in
Jane Eyre with particular vigour” (Shorter 13);
I believe she herself would have been glad of an opportunity to correct the over-strong
impression which was made upon the public mind by her vivid picture, though even she,
suffering her whole life long, both in heart and body, from the consequences of what
happened there, might have been apt, to the last, to take her deep belief in facts for the
facts themselves—her conception of truth for the absolute truth (The Life of Charlotte
Brontë, volume 1, chapter iv).
Gaskell’s agreement with Brontë’s description of Lowood School enraged Mr. Carus Wilson
and his acquaintances. Wilson reacted in such a way due to Gaskell’s comparison between him
and Mr. Brocklehurst, just like Brontë had done in her fictional work. Wilson and his group of
friends sent letters to the Times and the Daily News to express their disapproval. Mr. Nicholls,
Van Bockstaele 78
however, aligned himself with Gaskell’s viewpoint, which is why he wrote “admirable letters”
to the Halifax Guardian as a countermove (Shorter 13). This incident demonstrates the
difficulties Gaskell experienced, as many people whom she addressed in the memoir were still
alive when the work was published. This predicament was also addressed in one of her letters
to Ellen Nussey. Gaskell summed up some of the complaints she had received20, and the letter
also chronicled Wilson’s actions;
I have much much [sic] to tell you on this subject; but I am warned not to write; and
must keep it till we meet. Mr Carus Wilson threatens action about the Cowan’s Bridge
School. […] I want to show you many letters, – most praising the character of our dear
friend as she deserves, – and from people whose opinion she would have cared for […].
Many abusing me; I think I should think seven or eight of this kind from the Carus
Wilson clique. [...] (Letter to Ellen Nussey, 16 June 1857).
Perhaps more serious, however, was the manner in which Gaskell portrayed Patrick Branwell,
Charlotte Brontë’s brother. Shorter asserts that in this matter, Gaskell “had, indeed, shown a
singular recklessness” (13). In The Life of Charlotte Brontë, she had incorporated the accusation
that a woman had been the downfall of Branwell, even though there was insufficient
documentation to support such a claim. In 1843, Branwell became the tutor of Reverend
Edmund Robinson’s son in Thorp Green, where his sister Anne was already working as a
governess. During his employment there, Branwell developed affectionate feelings for
Robinson’s wife Lydia. In The Life, Gaskell mentions the whole affair in an implicit manner,
stating that she could not elaborate on what had happened;
20
The complete letter can be found in the appendix.
Van Bockstaele 79
Branwell, I have mentioned, had obtained the situation of a private tutor. Anne was also
engaged as governess in the same family, and was thus a miserable witness to her
brother’s deterioration of character at this period. Of the causes of this deterioration I
cannot speak; but the consequences were these. (The Life of Charlotte Brontë, volume
1, chapter xiii).
Gaskell was elusive when discussing the Branwell affair, in the same way she had refused to
elaborate on Charlotte Brontë’s affections for Heger. Branwell was ultimately removed from
his tutoring position and he was forced to “break off immediately, and for ever, all
communication with every member of the family” (The Life, volume 1, chapter xiii). Gaskell’s
interpretation of the event was to focus on the impact the incident had had on Branwell’s
relatives, rather than underlining Branwell’s responsibility and culpability in the affair;
“[w]hatever may have been the nature and depth of Branwell’s sins,—whatever may have been
his temptation, whatever his guilt,—there is no doubt of the suffering which his conduct entailed
upon his poor father and his innocent sisters” (The Life, volume 1, chapter xiii). In any case,
Gaskell’s account of this event was anything but objective as she had relied on the testimony
that had been provided by the biased Brontë sisters. Shorter notes that Gaskell perhaps looked
at the whole incident from a wrong perspective, as she had applied a literary point of view; “a
novelist's satisfaction in the romance which the 'bad woman' theory supplied” (13)21. In spite of
Gaskell’s misjudgement, this incident demonstrates how devoted Gaskell was to her depiction
of Charlotte Brontë. Gaskell created an image in which Patrick Branwell appeared as someone
who was not to blame. Shorter asserts that in this case, it is apparent that Gaskell was perhaps
21
Shorter summarised the incident as followed: “Branwell, under the influence of opium, made certain statements
about his relations with Mrs. Robinson which have been effectually disproved, although they were implicitly
believed by the Brontë girls, who, womanlike, were naturally ready to regard a woman as the ruin of a beloved
brother” (13).
Van Bockstaele 80
less cautious than many critics assumed as “Mrs. Gaskell did not show the caution which a
masculine biographer, less prone to take literally a man's accounts of his amours, would
undoubtedly have displayed” (13). In this excerpt, Shorter too is critical of particular decisions
that Gaskell made. In doing so, Shorter, a nineteenth-century journalist and literary critic,
ultimately condemned Gaskell to the private sphere, or to the strictly female literary field, as he
implied that she was not able to remain objective, something which a man would have been
able to do22. However, Gaskell did criticise Branwell, and by the same token his sisters, at some
points in The Life. In chapter twelve of the first volume, she talks about Branwell’s sisters’
tendency to overlook his apparent flaws. Gaskell certainly was not afraid to convey her
disapproval concerning some aspects of Brontë’s life;
Branwell was with them; that was always a pleasure at this time; whatever might be his
faults, or even his vices, his sisters yet held him up as their family hope, as they trusted
that he would some day be their family pride. They blinded themselves to the magnitude
of the failings of which they were now and then told, by persuading themselves that
such failings were common to all men of any strength of character; for, till sad
experience taught them better, they fell into the usual error of confounding strong
passions with strong character.
Overall, Gaskell’s project was much more complicated than first assumed, which resulted in
both criticism and praise by numerous scholars and critics, both in her own time and afterwards.
However, critics cannot deny or overlook certain undeniable truths. First of all, Gaskell was
greatly interested in Brontë’s life, which she researched extensively, even before they first met.
Moreover, their relationship was not superficial by any means, thus the reasoning that Gaskell’s
22
His attitude towards this particular instance again reveals how ingrained the dichotomy between men and women
was in the literary field, as themes for women writers were associated with feelings and emotions (cf. supra).
Van Bockstaele 81
biography of Brontë was merely for personal gain is unfounded. Various letters introduced
Gaskell’s fears and doubts regarding the biography, which highlights her noble intentions and
the professionalism which she maintained throughout the writing process. The criticism that the
biographical account elicited was mostly related to people who were still alive at the time of
publication. This had been anticipated by Gaskell to some extent, as is also shown in her
correspondence. More recent criticism, for example by Peterson and d’Albertis, opted to
emphasise how Gaskell disregarded certain aspects of Brontë’s life, for example her
professionalism in connection to authorship. Nevertheless, Gaskell’s so-called attempt at
bettering or euphemising Brontë’s life post-mortem is understandable. Gaskell wanted to avoid
tarnishing Brontë’s image as a professional and respected author, while at the same time
reasserting Brontë as an ideal Victorian woman who understood domestic values. In the end,
however, the biography testifies to the profound relationship between both women, which
resonates throughout the centuries as Gaskell’s biographical work is still researched today. The
biography remains a valuable source, as it is not only written by a contemporary of Charlotte
Brontë, but by someone with whom Brontë had a close connection. Gaskell managed to
incorporate personal experiences which someone who was not familiar with Brontë would not
have been able to do, thus making it an affectionate portrait and a symbol of the women’s high
regard for one another. In contrast to Gaskell’s relationship with Dickens, her friendship with
Brontë is an example of how Victorian women had to defend one another if they wanted to
break away from their constrained positions.
Van Bockstaele 82
Conclusion
The aim of this master dissertation was to provide an insight in the workings of the literary field
in the nineteenth century. More specifically, the focal point of this research was examining how
the Victorian women writer Elizabeth Gaskell was shaped by the imposed standards and
expectations of nineteenth-century society. For this master dissertation, personal
correspondence of and to Gaskell was used, as Gaskell’s own beliefs regarding authorship were,
consciously or not, reflected in her letters. Gaskell herself acknowledged the importance of
personal letters, of which The Life of Charlotte Brontë is the ultimate proof. The exchange of
letters over the course of multiple years detail the growth of Gaskell as a person and as an
author. It is for this particular reason that her personal letters were used to support the statements
made in this research, in addition to other contemporary sources, such as essays by G.H. Lewes,
George Eliot, among others. This thesis firstly focused on the established principles of Victorian
society. Additionally, how there was a difference in reception, perception, and evaluation of
women writers and their male counterparts was also investigated. This discrepancy between
men and women naturally was not only present in the field of literature as it was ingrained in
all aspects of everyday life. The option to examine Elizabeth Gaskell in this respect was a
natural extension of my bachelor paper, in which the focus was predominantly on Gaskell’s
fictional work. In this master dissertation, the emphasis on Gaskell’s professional attitude was
established by means of contrasting Gaskell with two contemporaries with whom she was
affiliated professionally and privately. Her association with both Charles Dickens and Charlotte
Brontë details how there was a clear difference in appraisal between men and women writers,
which subsequently translated in a different approach and relationship between the
professionals themselves. The research question of this dissertation was the following: “how is
Gaskell’s relationship with Charles Dickens and Charlotte Brontë respectively a reflection of
the double standards that existed in connection to Victorian authorship?”. The answer to such
Van Bockstaele 83
a question can not coincidentally be found in Gaskell’s North and South (1855). After Margaret
refuses a marriage proposal, she ponders on the differences between men and women and their
reaction to certain events. She exclaims; “How different men were to women!” (33), an
observation which is applicable to Victorian culture as a whole. The difference between men
and women was not only visible in the social circles, but in the literary field as well. That is,
whereas Gaskell’s relationship with Brontë was much more amicable and displayed a bond
between two women who saw themselves as equals, Gaskell’s affiliation with Dickens quickly
turned sour as he insisted on displaying and asserting his patriarchal authority. It eventually
resulted in a break between the two contemporaries, as Gaskell left Dickens’s Household Words
and became affiliated with The Cornhill Magazine as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
Ultimately, Gaskell’s relationship with Charles Dickens and Charlotte Brontë highlights the
paradoxical situation of men and women in Victorian society. Whereas men were seen as the
epitome of authority and competence, women were continuously placed in an inferior position;
they were assigned a subordinate role in all circles of society. However, Elizabeth Gaskell
defied those standards, both in her real life and in her fictional work. Gaskell’s professional
relationship with Dickens evolved in such a way that Gaskell eventually felt confident enough
to leave; she grew more and more discontent with the restrictions that he imposed. In doing so,
Gaskell defied nineteenth-century regulations and baffled many of her contemporaries. From
Gaskell’s initial affiliation with Dickens to her subsequent departure from Household Words, a
clear development can be seen; Gaskell grew more confident with her own abilities, which
allowed her to spread her wings and look for other opportunities. Gaskell’s own ideas of
authorship differed with Dickens’s views, with ultimately led to a rupture between the two
authors. Contrastingly, the bond between Gaskell and Charlotte Brontë developed into an
immensely popular biography. The biographical account was at first perceived as demeaning
towards Brontë’s character as many believed that Gaskell had written the memoir to ensure her
Van Bockstaele 84
own popularity. This criticism, however, disregards the mutual appreciation that both women
had for each other. Moreover, recognition of Gaskell’s work had already increased after the
publication of her fictional work Cranford. The Life of Charlotte Brontë eventually came to be
known as one of the acclaimed biographies of the nineteenth century, both by critics of the
Victorian period and those of the following centuries. The biography not only details the
harmonious affiliation between Gaskell and Brontë; it is also an example of Gaskell’s vigorous
work ethic. Gaskell’s relationship with Brontë and Gaskell’s subsequent commemorative
memoir of Brontë accentuates how Victorian women had to form an united front. Gaskell
created a biography in which their close relationship was detailed. Additionally, Gaskell
emphasised Brontë’s accomplishments rather than her faults. By all means, the comparison of
Gaskell’s relationship with two other renowned nineteenth-century literary bodies revealed an
interesting dichotomy. The depiction, appraisement, and liberties of women writers and their
male counterparts in the Victorian literary field differed considerably. However, in her fictional
work and in her professional relationships, Gaskell attempted to dismantle this inequality. As
Hughes and Lund note, “[…] Gaskell’s art has survived to our day, where it is increasingly seen
to point out fault lines in Victorian complacency” (7).
Van Bockstaele 85
Bibliography
Alexander, Christine. “Brontë, Charlotte (1816–1855).” Oxford Dictionary of National
Biography. Online ed. Ed. Lawrence Goldman. Oxford: OUP. Web. 3 November 2014.
Bedrani, Ghalia. “The Representation of the ‘Other’ (the Poor and Women) in Elizabeth
Gaskell’s North and South.” Diss. University of Tizi-Ouzou, 2010-2011. Print.
Bloom, Harold, ed. The Brontës. New York: Infobase Publishing, 2008. Print.
Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York:
Routledge, 1990. Print.
Caine, Barbara. “G.H. Lewes and ‘The Lady Novelists’.” Sydney Studies 7 (1981): 85-101.
Print.
Carlyle, Thomas. Lecture V. The Hero as a Man of Letters. Johnson, Rousseau, Burns. On
Heroes, Hero-Worship, and the Heroic in History. London: Fraser, 1841. Project
Gutenberg. Web. 31 October 2014.
Chapple, J.A.V., and, John Geoffrey Sharps. Introduction. A Portrait in Letters. Elizabeth
Gaskell. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1980. Print.
Claes, Koenraad. “The Victorian Period”. Historical Survey. Ghent University. Blandijnberg,
Ghent. 2014. Lecture.
d’Albertis, Deirdre. “‘Bookmaking out of the Remains of the Dead’: Elizabeth Gaskell’s ‘The
Life of Charlotte Brontë’” Victorian Studies 39.1 (1995): 1-31. JSTOR. Web. 10
October 2014.
—. Dissembling Fictions: Elizabeth Gaskell and the Victorian Social Text. New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, 1997. Print.
Dickens, Charles. “Preliminary Word.” Household Words. 30 March 1850. Print.
—.The Letters of Charles Dickens. Ed. Jenny Hartley. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012.
Print.
Van Bockstaele 86
—. The Letters of Charles Dickens. Eds. Mamie Dickens and Georgina Hogarth. 1833-1856.
Project Gutenberg. Web. 4 September 2014.
Easley, Alexis. Literary Celebrity, Gender, and Victorian Authorship, 1850-1914. Plymouth:
University of Delaware Press, 2011. Print.
Eliot, George. “Silly Novels by Lady Novelists.” Westminster Review 130.2 (1856): 442-461.
Print.
Erkkila, Betsy. The Wicked Sisters: Women Poets, Literary History, and Discord. Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1992. Print.
Foley, June. ““The Life of Charlotte Brontë” and Some Letters of Elizabeth Gaskell.” Modern
Language Studies 27.3/4 (1997): 37-46. JSTOR. Web. 5 October 2014.
Gaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn. A Portrait in Letters. Eds. J.A.V. Chapple and John Geoffrey
Sharps. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1980. Print.
—. North and South. London: Penguin Books Ltd, 1854-5. Print.
—. The Letters of Mrs. Gaskell. Eds. J.A.V. Chapple and Arthur Pollard. Manchester:
Manchester University, 1966. Print.
—. The Life of Charlotte Bronte, volume 1 and 2. London: Smith, Elder, and Co., 1857. Project
Gutenberg. Web. 20 October 2014.
Guy, Josephine. Authors and authorship. The Cambridge Companion to English Literature
1830-1914. Ed. Joanne Shattock. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. 9-29.
Print.
Hopkins, Annette B. “Dickens and Mrs. Gaskell”. Huntington Library Quarterly 9.4 (1946):
357-385. JSTOR. Web. 4 September 2014.
Hughes, Linda K., and, Michael Lund. Victorian Publishing and Mrs. Gaskell’s Work. Virginia:
The University Press of Virginia, 1999. Print.
Jackson, Jeffrey E. “Elizabeth Gaskell and the Dangerous Edge of Things: Epigraphs in North
Van Bockstaele 87
and South and Victorian Publishing Practices.” Pacific Coast Philology 40.2 (2005):
56-72. JSTOR. Web. 4 September 2014.
Jakubowski, Zuzanna. “Moors, Mansions, and Museums: Transgressing Gendered Spaces in
Novels of the Brontë Sisters.” European University Studies 493.14 (2010). Print.
Jordan, Ellen. The Women’s Movement and Women’s Employment in Nineteenth Century
Britain. London: Routledge, 1999. Print.
Judd, Catherine A. Male Pseudonyms and Female Authority in Victorian England. Literature
in the Marketplace: Nineteenth-Century British Publishing and Reading Practices. Eds.
John O. Jordan and Robert L. Patten. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995.
250-268. Print.
Lewes, George Henry. “The Condition of Authors in England, Germany, and France.” Fraser’s
Magazine 15.207 (1847): 285-295. Print.
—. “The Lady Novelists.” Westminster Review 2 (1852): 129-141. Print.
Lyall, Edna. Mrs. Gaskell. Women Novelists of Queen Victoria's Reign: A Book of Appreciation.
By Margaret Oliphant, et al. London: Ballantyne Press, 1897. Project Gutenberg. Web.
20 October 2014.
Malfait, Olivia. “No Author Is an Island: Multiple Authorship in Nineteenth-Century Britain.”
PhD thesis, Ghent University, 2013. Print.
McBee, Comanchette Rene. “Revoking Victorian silences: Redemption of fallen women
through speech in Elizabeth Gaskell’s fiction.” Diss. Iowa State University, 2012. Print.
Miles, Rosalind. The female form: women writers and the conquest of the novel. London:
Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1987. Print.
Murdoch, Lydia. Daily Life of Victorian Women. Santa Barbara: Greenwood Press, 2014. Print.
Nayder, Lillian. Unequal Partners: Charles Dickens, Wilkie Collins, and Victorian Authorship.
Cornell: Cornell University Press, 2002. Print.
Van Bockstaele 88
Noddings, Nel. Women and Evil. California: University of California Press, 1989. Print.
O’Gorman, Francis, ed. A Concise Companion to the Victorian Novel. Oxford: Blackwell
Publishing, 2005. Print.
Onslow, Barbara. Women of the Press in Nineteenth-Century Britain. Basingstoke: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2000. Print.
Palmer, Beth. Women’s authorship and editorship in Victorian culture: sensational strategies.
New York: Oxford University Press, 2011. Print.
Peterson, Linda H. Becoming a Woman of Letters. Myths of Authorship and Facts of the
Victorian Market. Princeton & Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2009. Print.
—. “Triangulation, Desire, and Discontent in “The Life of Charlotte Brontë”.” Studies in
English Literature, 1500-1900 47.4 (2007): 901-920. JSTOR. Web. 4 September 2014.
Pollard, Arthur. “Mrs Gaskell’s Life of Charlotte Brontë” Bulletin of the John Rylands Library
47.2 (1965): 453-488. Print.
Poovey, Mary. Uneven Developments: The Ideological Work of Gender in Mid-Victorian
England. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988. Print.
Poster, Carol. “Oxidization Is a Feminist Issue: Acidity, Canonicity, and Popular Victorian
Female Authors.” College English 58.3 (1996): 287-306. JSTOR. Web. 3 November
2014.
Schaub, Melissa. “The Serial Reader and the Corporate Text: Hard Times and North and
South.” Victorian Review 39.1 (2013): 182-199. Project Muse. Web. 10 October 2014.
Schelstraete, Jasper. “A Victorian Kodak Moment: The Dynamic between Charles Dickens and
Marcus Stone.” Diss. Ghent University, 2008-2009. Print.
Shattock, Joanne. Gaskell the Journalist: Letters, Diaries, Stories. Elizabeth Gaskell: Victorian
Culture, and the Art of Fiction – Original Essays for the Bicentenary. Ed. Sandro Jung.
Ghent: Academia Press, 2010. 29-38. Print.
Van Bockstaele 89
—. The Cambridge Companion to English literature, 1830-1914. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2009. Print.
Shorter, Clement K. Charlotte Brontë and Her Circle. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1896.
Print. (Transcribed from the 1896 Hodder and Stoughton edition by Les Bowler)
Stodart, M.A. Female writers: thoughts on their proper sphere, and on their powers of
usefulness. London: R.B. Seeley and W. Burnside, 1842. Print.
Stoneman, Patsy. Elizabeth Gaskell. Brighton: Harvester Press, 1987. Print.
The Life and Times of Elizabeth Gaskell. Golgotha Press, 2011. Print.
Thompson, Nicola Diane, ed. Victorian Women Writers and the Woman Question. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1999. Print.
Vann, Don J. “Charles Lever and Mrs. Gaskell.” Victorian Periodicals Review 22.2 (1989): 6471. JSTOR. Web. 4 September 2014.
Walsh, Sheila. Living Fearlessly: Telling the Truth, Facing Your Fears, Finding His Peace.
Michigan: Zondervan, 2001. Print.
Wilson, Cheryl A. “Placing the Margins: Literary Review, Pedagogical Practices, and the
Canon of Victorian Women’s Writing.” Tulsa Studies in Women’s Literature 28.1
(2009): 57-74. JSTOR. Web. 4 September 2014.
Woolf, Virginia. A Room of One’s Own. London: Hogarth Press, 1929. Project Gutenberg. Web.
27 November 2014.
Van Bockstaele 90
Appendix
1. Letter to Catherine Winkworth, 25 August 1850
My dearest Katie,
If I don’t write now I shall never. A fortnight ago I was in despair, because I had so much to
say to you I thought I shd never get through it, and now, as you may suppose, I shall find I have
more to do. Only I’ll let you know I’m alive. And that on Thursday last I was as near as possible
drinking tea with the Tennysons, –and that I have been spending the week in the same house
with Miss Brontë, –now is not this enough material for one letter, let alone my home events, –
& fortnight-ago, richness of material. Oh how I wish you were here. I have so much to say I
don’t know where to begin. Wm is in Birmingham preaching today. He stays over tomorrow.
The two Greens are here; and Fanny Holland expected any day. That’s all here I think. {[3½
lines deleted]} Last Monday came a note from Lady Kay Shuttleworth, asking Wm & me to go
to see them at a house called Briery Close, they have taken just above Low-wood; and meet
Miss Brontë who was going to stay with them for 3 or 4 days. Wm hesitated, but his
Birmingham sermons kept him at home; & I went on Tuesday afternoon. Dark when I got to
Windermere station; a drive along the level road to Low-wood, then a regular clamber up a
steep lane; then a stoppage at a pretty house, and then a pretty drawing room much like the
South End one, in which were Sir James and Lady K S, and a little lady in black silk gown,
whom I could not see at first for the dazzle in the room; she came up & shook hands with me
at once–I went up to unbonnet &c, came down to tea, the little lady worked away and hardly
spoke; but I had time for a good look at her. She is (as she calls herself) undeveloped; thin and
more than ½ a head shorter than I, soft brown hair not so dark as mine; eyes (very good and
expressive looking straight & open at you) of the same colour, a reddish face; large mouth &
many teeth gone; altogether plain; the forehead square, broad, and rather overhanging. She had
Van Bockstaele 91
a very sweet voice, rather hesitates in choosing her expressions, but when chosen they seem
without an effort, admirable and just befitting the occasion. There is nothing overstrained but
perfectly simple. Well of course we went to bed; & of course we got up again. (I had the most
lovely view from my bedroom over Windermere on to Esthwaite Langdale &c.) Lady K S. was
ill, so I made breakfast all the time I staid; and an old jolly Mr Moseley Inspector of Schools
came to breakfast, who abused our Mr Newman soundly for having tried \to acquire/ various
branches of knowledge, which ‘savoured of vanity, & was a temptation of the D ‘literal.’ After
breakfast we \4/ went on the Lake; and Miss B and I agreed in thinking Mr Moseley a good
goose; in liking Mr Newman’s soul, –in liking Modern Painters, and the idea of the Seven
Lamps, and she told me about Father Newman’s lectures in a very quiet concise graphic way.
After dinner we went a drive to Coniston to call on the Tennysons who are staying at Mr
Marshall’s [?Fleet] Lodge–Sir James on the box, Miss B & I inside very cozy; but alas it began
to rain so we had to turn back without our call being paid, which grieved me sorely & made me
cross. I’m not going to worry you with as particular an account of every day; simply to tell you
bits about Miss Brontë. She is more like Miss Fox in character & ways than anyone, if you can
fancy Miss Fox to have gone through suffering enough to have taken out every spark of
merriment, and shy & silent from the habit of extreme intense solitude. Such a life as Miss B’s
I never heard of before Lady K S described her home to me as in a village of a few grey stone
houses perched up on the north side of a bleak moor–looking over sweeps of bleak moors. There
is a court of turf & a stone wall, –(no flowers or shrubs will grow there) a straight walk, & you
come to the parsonage door with a window on each side of it. The parsonage has never had a
touch of paint, or an article of new furniture for 30 years; never since Miss B’s mother died.
She was a ‘pretty young creature’ brought from Penzance in Cornwall by the Irish Curate, who
got this moorland living. Her friends disowned her at her marriage. She had 6 children as fast
as could be; & what with that, & the climate, & the strange half mad husband she had chosen
Van Bockstaele 92
she died at the end of 9 years. An old woman at Burnley who nursed her at last, says she used
to lie crying in her bed, and saying ‘Oh God my poor children–oh God my poor children!’
continually. Mr Brontë vented his angers against things not persons; for instance once in one of
his wife’s confinements something went wrong, so he got a saw, and went and sawed up all the
chairs in her bedroom, never answering her remonstrances or minding her tears. Another time
he was vexed and took the hearth-rug & tied it in a tight bundle & set it on fire in the grate; &
sat before it with a leg on each hob, heaping on more colds [sic] till it was burnt, no one else
being able to endure in the room because of the stifling smoke. All this Lady K S told me. The
sitting room at the Parsonage looks into the Church-yard filled with graves. Mr B has never
taken a meal with his children since his wife’s death, unless he invites them to tea, –never to
dinner. And he has only once left the home since to come to Manchester to be operated upon
by Mr Wilson for Cataract; at which time they lodged in Boundary St. Well! these 5 daughters
and one son grew older, their father never taught the girls anything–only the servant taught
them to read & write. But I suppose they laid their heads together, for at 12 Charlotte (this one)
presented a request to the father that they might go to school; so they were sent to CowanBridge (the place where the daughters of the Clergy where before they were removed to
Casterton. There the 2 elder died in that fever. Miss B says the pain she suffered from hunger
was not to be told & her two younger sisters laid the foundation of the consumption of which
they are now dead. They all came home ill. But the poverty of the home was very great (‘At 19
I asked my father, but he said What did women want with money’). So at 19 she advertised &
got a teacher’s place in a school, –(where she did not say, only said it was preferable to the
governess’s place she got afterwards but she saved up enough to pay for her journey to a school
in Brussels. She had never been out of Yorkshire before; & was so frightened when she got to
London–she took a cab, it was night and drove down to the Tower Stairs, & got a boat & went
to the Ostend packet, and they refused to take her in; but at last they did. She was in this school
Van Bockstaele 93
at Brussels two years without a holiday except one week with one of her Belgian schoolfellows.
Then she came home & her sisters were ill, & her father going blind–so she thought she ought
to stay at home. She tried to teach herself drawing & to be an artist but she cd not–and yet her
own health independently of the home calls upon her wd not allow of her going out again as a
governess. She had always wished to write & believed that he could; at 16 she had sent some
of her poems to Southey, & had ‘kind, stringent’ answers from him. So she & her sisters tried.
They kept their initials and took names that would do either for a man or a woman. They used
to read to each other when they had written so much. Their father never knew a word about it.
He had never heard of Jane Eyre when 3 months after its publication she promised her sisters
one day at dinner she would tell him before tea. So she marched into his study with a copy
wrapped up & the reviews. She said (I think I can remember the exact words[)]–‘Papa I’ve been
writing a book.’ ‘Have you my dear?’ and he went on reading. ‘But Papa, I want you to look at
it.’ ‘I can’t be troubled to read MS.’ ‘But it is printed.’ ‘I hope you have not been involving
yourself in any such silly expense.’ ‘I think I shall gain some money by it. May I read you some
reviews.’ So she read them; and then she asked him if he would read the book. He said she
might leave it, and he would see. But he sent them an invitation to tea that night, and towards
the end of tea he said, ‘Children, Charlotte has been writing a book–and I think it is a better one
than I expected.’ He never spoke about it again till about a month ago, & they never dared to
tell him of the books her sisters wrote. Just in the success of Jane Eyre, her sisters died of \rapid/
consumption–unattended by any doctor, why I don’t know. But she says she will have non and
that her death will be quite lonely; having no friend or relation in the world to nurse her, & her
father dreading a sick room above all places. There seems little doubt she herself is already
tainted with consumption; now I shan’t write any more till you write me again, & tell me how
to get a letter to Annie\Shaen/kind of paper to be used &c–& how you & Emma are, & a quantity
Van Bockstaele 94
more I want to know. Love to dr Emma. Emily is at Crix? Kind love to Selina[.] I went to
Arnolds\met some Bunsens, & were to have met Tennyson/–Davy’s Mr Prestons
Yours ever affect[ionately],
E C Gaskell
2. Letter to Charlotte Froude, 25 August 1850
<…> And now I have given you a bulletin of all our mutual acquaintances I shall tell you about
ourselves. In the first place I must make an apology for Marianne, who has found out that she
has got your Agnus Dei in her portfolio. Unless I hear to the contrary I shall send it by the first
oppy to my cousins near TreMadoc, who can easily forward it to Plâs Gwynant. We went at the
end of June to our farm-house in Silverdale; where we stayed about five weeks. Since we came
home, we have all{ways} been ‘picking up our dropped stiches’ of work in various ways. Our
only interruption has been my going from home for three days to stay at Lady Kay
Shuttleworth’s to meet Miss Brontë. It was at a very pretty place near Low Wood on
Windermere; and I went to see all our old friends at Skelwith and elsewhere. Miss Brontë I like.
Her faults are the faults of the very peculiar circumstances in which she has been placed; and
she possesses a charming union of simplicity and power; and a strong feeling of responsibility
for the Gift, which she has given her. She is very little & very plain. Her stunted person she
ascribes to the scanty supply of food she had as a growing girl, when at that school of the
Daughters of the Clergy. Two of her sisters died there, of the low fever she speaks about in Jane
Eyre. She is the last of six; lives in a wild out of the way village\in the Yorkshire Moors/with a
wayward eccentric wild father, –their parsonage facing the North–no flowers or shrub or tree
can grow in the plot of ground, on acct of the biting winds. The sitting room looks into the
church-yard. Her father & she each dine and sit alone. She scrambled into what education she
has had. Indeed I never heard of so hard, and dreary a life, – extreme poverty is added to their
Van Bockstaele 95
trials, –it (poverty) was no trial till her sisters had long lingering illnesses. She is truth itself–
and of a very noble sterling nature, –which has never been called out by anything kind or genial.
She was a teacher in a school, & a governess for 4 or 5 years; till her health gave way; but with
her savings she put herself (between the two situations) to school at Brussels, where she was 2
years. Then, when she was too ill to leave home, she tried to train herself for an artist; –but
though she found she could express her own thoughts by drawing, she could make noting grand
or beautiful to other eyes. She is very silent and shy; and when she speaks chiefly remarkable
for the admirable use she makes of simple words, & the way in which she makes language
express her ideas. She and I quarrelled & differed about almost every thing, –she calls me a
democrat, & can not bear Tennyson–but we like each other heartily\I think/& I hope we shall
ripen into friends. Good keep you my dear Mrs Froude! Mr Gaskell desires his kind
remembrances to you and Mr Froude. Marianne and Meta tell me to send their ‘loves’[?]. Mr
Gaskell regretted afterwards that he had not called to say goodbye that last Tuesday. But he was
very busy, & thought you would be even more so. In great haste (be sure you thank Mr & Mrs
Kingsley heartily for me.) I am Yours very truly
E.C. Gaskell
3. Letter to George Smith, 4 June 1855
Dear Sir,
I believe you will be much interested by the accompanying letter; but I must beg you to consider
it as sent to you for your own private perusal, as you see what the poor man says at the end; and
if I had not known of Miss Brontë’s regard for you, & yours for her, I should not have though
myself justified in letting it pass out of my hands. But is it not sad? and does it not altogether
seem inexplicable and strange? The writer, poor fellow, is a kind of genius in his way; & I know
that Miss Brontë was a little afraid of his being too much of a Jack-of-all-trades to succeed in
Van Bockstaele 96
any way. He is part mason, part gardener, plaisterer painter and what not, besides having a little
stationer’s shop, the only place where paper can be bought nearer than Keighley. In one of his
letters (for he seems to have adopted me as his correspondent since Miss Brontë’s death,) he
says ‘I had not much acquaintance with the family till 1843, when I began to do a little in the
stationery line [.] Nothing of that kind could be nearer than Keighley when I began. They used
to buy a great deal of writing paper, and I used to wonder whatever they did with so much.
When I was out of stock I was always afraid of them coming they seemed always so distressed
if I had none. I have walked to Halifax (a distance of 10 miles) many a time for half a ream of
paper, for fear of being without them when they came. I could not buy more at once for want
of capital; I was always short of that. I did so like them to come when I had anything for them;
they were so much different to any one else, so gentle, & kind and so very quiet. They never
talked much; but Charlotte would sometimes sit, and enquire about my family so feelingly.’
Miss Brontë took me several times to see this poor man when I stayed with her at
Haworth, & the last time she was there (the last time I saw her,) she turned back out of the
carriage when she was going away to say ‘Do send a message to John Greenwood; he will so
like it.’ I think they are very unusual letters for a man in his station. He is a little deformed man,
upwards of 50 years of age. I had never heard of her being ill; or I would have gone to her at
once; she would have disliked my doing so, as I am fully aware, but I think I could have
overcome that, and perhaps saved her life. I wrote to her last in October; and she had never
replied to that letter, but as she knew I was very busy in completing a task which I extremely
disliked, I fancied her silence arose partly from the sensitive delicacy which always made her
hold aloof from even the semblance of interruption or intrusion. Moreover in my last letter I
had spoken a good deal of my views of the Church of England, which she knew well enough
before, & sympathized in, but which I thought might probably annoy her husband, [...] but I
had promised her I would be very patient, and trustfully await her bringing him round to tolerate
Van Bockstaele 97
dissenters. And so, – half busy, – half trying to be patient , I never wrote to her again after that
October letter; and I do so regret it now! I think it is from finding that you are suffering from a
somewhat similar regret (that of not having cultivated her intimacy more assiduously,) that
makes me write so openly & so much at length to you. I wish you would ask for permission to
have a copy of the portrait, & that without much delay. I know so little of Mr Nicholls that I
may have received a wrong impression of him; but my idea is that he will be less likely to
consent to a copy being taken than Mr Brontë, in whose possession it is at present; but he is 80
years of age! He wrote to me once, and named your letter to him with a kind of touching
satisfaction in what you had said.
She often asked me (after her marriage last year) to go over & see her; I never went,
partly because it required a little courage to face Mr Nicholls, as she had told me he did not like
her intimacy with us dissenters, but that she knew he would like us when he had seen us. Now
I intend to go over for one day to see Mr Brontë, and also to see her husband, & where she is
laid. I am sure she would have liked to think of my doing so. I have tried\but I have failed,/to
get a copy of the Belfast Mercury [April 1855] quoted in the Athenaeum about three weeks,
since, with reference to her family in Ireland; Mr Brontë says he was more pleased by a ‘notice
of her in an Irish paper than by any other that he has seen’: and I fancy it must be this Belfast
Mercury. It gave a similar account of her relations on her father’s side, as she had given to me,
in the long talks we had during my happy visit to Haworth.
It was from finding how much names and dates which she then gave me in speaking of
her past life had passed out of my memory, that I determined that in our country-leisure this
summer I would put down every thing I remembered about this dear friend and noble woman,
before its vividness had faded from my mind: but I know that Mr Brontë, and I fear that Mr
Nicholls, would not like this made public, even though the more she was known the more people
would honour her as a woman, separate from her character of authoress. Still my children, who
Van Bockstaele 98
all loved her would like to have what I could write about her; and the time may come when her
wild sad life, and the beautiful character that grew out of it may be made public. I thought that
I would simply write down my own personal recollections of her, from the time we first met at
Sir J.K. Shuttleworth’s, telling {all}\what was right & fitting of what/she told me of her past
life, and here & there copying out characteristic extracts from her letters. {describing} \I could
describe/the wild bleakness of Haworth & speaking of the love & honour in which she was held
there. But (from the tenor of Greenwood’s first letter.) you will see that this sort of record of
her could not be made public at present without giving pain. I shall be glad if you will return to
me Mr Greenwood’s letters, and with many apologies for the length of this, –<...>
4. Letter to Ellen Nussey, 16 June 1857
My dearest Miss Nussey
I am in the Hornet’s nest with a vengeance. I only hope you dear good little late that {y} nobody
is worrying you in any way. We came home on May 28th and I never heard of the Letters in the
Times till my return. I have much much [sic] to tell you on this subject, but I am warned not to
write; and must keep it till we meet.
Mr Carus Wilson threatens an action about the Cowan’s Bridge School
Mr Redhead’s son-in-law writes to deny {that}\my/account of the Haworth
commotions, & gives another as true, in which I don’t see any great difference.
Miss Martineau has written sheet upon sheet regarding the quarrel? misunderstanding?
between her & Miss Brontë[.]
Two separate householders in London each declare that the first interview between Miss
Brontë and Miss Martineau took place at her house.
I am preparing a third edition, & must, I think, go over to Gawthorp for a night next
week, (if they can have me,) to see some people there. But Marianne & Mr Gaskell would be
Van Bockstaele 99
at home. Can you, dear Miss Nussey come to us any day this week the sooner the better for us,
and stay till the end of next week. We do not go to the Queen’s reception\on the 29/, but I
believe we shall have our house full that week of friends, who do.
I want to show you many letters, – most praising the character of our dear friend as she
deserves, – and from people whose opinion she would have cared for, such as the Duke of
Argyll, Kingsley, Gleig &c &c. Many abusing me; I should think seven or eight of this kind
from the Carus Wilson clique.
I am writing as if I were in famous spirits, and I think I am so angry that I am almost
merry in my bitterness, if you know that state of feeling; but I have cried more since I came
home that [sic] I ever did in the same space of time before; and never needed kind words so
much, –& no one gives me them. I did so try to tell the truth, & I believe now I hit as near the
truth as any one could do. And I weighed every line with all my whole power & heart, so that
every line should go to it’s great purpose of making her known & valued, as one who had gone
through such a terrible life with a brave & faithful heart. But I think you know & knew all this.
One comfort too is that God knows the truth. Do come if you can. Mere seeing you would do
me good. My kindest regards to your sister
Yours ever affectionately,
E.C. Gaskell
You shall go to the Exhibition every day. It is lovely; only I have hardly had time to look at it[.]