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 Taal- Supervisor: 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. Nineteenth- century 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 nineteenth- century 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 male- dominated 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 male- dominated 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 “de- emphasized 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 Kay-

Shuttleworth, 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

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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 Cowan-

Bridge (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[.]