Elizabeth Gaskell died in 1865 leaving behind a wide range of works – novels, novellas, short stories, poetry and non-fiction.  Her final novel, Wives and Daughters lay unfinished, just shy of the final chapter or so.  There is some common ground here between Elizabeth Gaskell and the later writer Edith Wharton, who died before the completing the final chapters of The Buccaneers (1938).  Both writers had their incomplete novels published posthumously.  Both writers decided to set their final works in an earlier time.  Edith Wharton, writing in the 1930s, decided to return to the 1870s in The Buccaneers.  Elizabeth Gaskell, writing in the 1860s, returned to the 1820s in Wives and Daughters.  It is interesting, that at this stage of their lives, both writers decided to revisit a bygone age. Elizabeth Gaskell and ‘Wives and Daughters’

In some ways it is difficult to know where to start with Wives and Daughters.  It is a large, and in some ways, a complex novel spanning some 580 plus pages.  At the heart of the novel is the story of young Molly Gibson and her journey from childhood into maturity and the relationships she forms with those around her.  However, in many ways, this is an oversimplification of a very rich text.  Gaskell explores some complex issues and the novel contains many carefully drawn characters.  It features not only birth, marriage and death, but secrets and lies, conflict and humour, and is much more than a simple tale of Molly’s maturation.  It opens in a fairy-tale like manner:

To begin with the old rigmarole of childhood. In a country there was a shire, and in that shire there was a town, and in that town there was a house, and in that house there was a room, and in that room there was a bed, and in that bed there lay a little girl; wide awake and longing to get up, but not daring to do so for fear of the unseen power in the next room…

The ‘unseen power’ is Betty the maid, and the little girl is the aforementioned Molly.  The ‘sing-song’ rhythmic nature and the use of repetition is a little like a nursery rhyme, but it also achieves an image which moves from a wide view to a specific focus. Whether you find this opening endearing or a little off-putting, please forge ahead as you will not be disappointed.

Like many Victorian novels, Wives and Daughters was initially serialized in the Cornhill Magazine, beginning in August 1864 and concluding in January 1866.  Frederick Greenwood, the editor of Cornhill provided the ending using Gaskell’s notes and information from her family.  Cornhill had previously serialized her work, Cousin Phillis.  Initially, Gaskell was reluctant to write for the magazine after her friend and publisher George Smith had approached her, fearing a higher standard would be required than Household Words and All the Year Round, published by Charles Dickens.  She was also cautious as her friendship with Dickens had become somewhat strained following a number of disagreements over such issues as the word limit of North and South and the ending of her short story ‘The Old Nurse’s Story’.  She had complied with Dickens on the former, but stood her ground regarding the latter.  Nevertheless, she outlined the plot of her new venture which she envisaged as a triple decker novel.  She need not have worried as the serialized version of Wives and Daughters was very well received by a reading public who eagerly awaited each new instalment. Elizabeth Gaskell and ‘Wives and Daughters’

Cast of Elizabeth Gaskell

The early chapters establish Molly’s happy life living with her widowed father, the local doctor.  The fairy-tale theme continues initially as Molly becomes overwhelmed at the much-anticipated Gala Day which had caused her early and excited awakening in the opening paragraph.  This is held at the resplendent Towers, one of the homes of local aristocracy Lord and Lady Cumnor. Molly seeks solace in the gardens, loses her way in the hot sunshine and falls asleep in the shade of a cedar tree.  She is embarrassed to be discovered by two ladies who turn out to be the Cumnor’s married (and titled) daughter and their former governess Clare, now widowed.  Clare creates quite an impression on Molly: ‘She was the most beautiful person she had ever seen, and she was certainly a very lovely woman. Her voice, too, was soft and plaintive…’ (Chapter 2).  Clare takes care of Molly who is now suffering from heatstroke and orders some cool water and lunch, most of which she consumes herself.  Clare’s charm starts to slip slightly as she does not correct the assumption that Molly ate all of the hearty lunch, and was probably ill through over-eating. Molly is taken to rest in one of the bedrooms but is anxious about missing her ride home and pleads with Clare:

‘Please ask somebody to waken me if I go to sleep. I am to go back with the Miss Brownings.’

‘Don’t trouble yourself about it, dear, I’ll take care’, said Clare… And then she went away and thought no more about it.

Thus, the most beautiful creature Molly had ever seen turns out to be untrue to her word.  Molly is discovered much later by the maids who come to make up the room, long after all the carriages have departed.  Poor little Molly is awestruck and fearful of the aristocratic Cumnors and when Lord Cumnor says in his best Daddy Bear voice ‘Are you the little girl who has been sleeping in my bed?’ she fears his anger is real as she has never read the ‘Three Bears’.  Her fear deepens as he continues with his jokes, making reference to Sleeping Beauty and it appears as though Molly will have to spend the night at the Towers.  Fortunately, and greatly to her relief, her father comes to the rescue on his horse, along with her pony, and she is able to return home.

The narrative skims over the ‘calm monotony of life’ (Chapter 4) and we next encounter Molly at the age of seventeen in the appropriately titled Chapter 5 ‘Calf-Love’.  The Calf-Love in question refers to the infatuation of one of Dr Gibson’s students for Molly.  The poor lovestruck student is fast dispatched from the premises before Molly becomes aware of his ardour. This leads Dr Gibson to decide he needs to take a wife to provide Molly with a feminine influence over her moral development. His thoughts are further confirmed when he receives an unexpected visit from Lord Hollingford who observes the rumpled and rather stained tablecloth.  Hollingford suggests Dr Gibson should remarry:

… if you found a sensible, agreeable women of thirty or so, I really think you couldn’t do better than to take her to manage your home, and so save you either discomfort or wrong; and, beside, she would be able to give your daughter that kind of tender supervision which, I fancy, all girls of that age require.  (Chapter 9)

Thus, the fairy-tale tone has vanished. There is no hint of romance. Marriage is merely a practicality and Molly soon gains a stepmother and a stepsister.

This is not too much of a spoiler though, as this occurs quite early on in the novel.  Molly is not encumbered with a wicked stepmother a la Cinderella, however, the new Mrs Gibson soon proves herself to be somewhat shallow and self-obsessed.  She immediately makes plans to remodel the house deeming it too rustic for her refined tastes.  On their first evening home after the honeymoon, she is disappointed her husband is urgently called out to tend to a patient and bemoans to Molly:Elizabeth Gaskell and ‘Wives and Daughters’

‘… I think your dear papa might have put off his visit to Mr Craven Smith for just this one evening.’

‘Mr Craven Smith couldn’t put off his dying.’ said Molly bluntly.

‘You droll girl!’ said Mrs Gibson, with a faint laugh. ‘But if this Mr Smith is dying, as you say, what’s the use of your father’s going off to him in such a hurry? Does he expect a legacy, or anything of that kind?’  (Chapter 15) Elizabeth Gaskell and ‘Wives and Daughters’

Many of the moments featuring Mrs Gibson have touches of wry humour about them and it is no accident she is frequently depicted producing endless decorative but useless embroidery, and is highly critical of any intelligent conversation.  Gaskell uses this self-interested character to highlight the importance of education for women lest they turn out like vain Mrs Gibson.

Elizabeth Gaskell Tower, Knutsford

Biographer Jenny Uglow[1] suggests simply drawing out the thread of Molly’s story is a huge over-simplification in such a rich tapestry of a novel, and I must agree, even though this is what I have just done. The community of characters Gaskell created in her earlier novel Cranford is achieved with even greater skill in this text.  As the title suggests, familial relationships take centre stage, but not just in the sense of wives and daughters.  There are generational conflicts such as those within the Hamley family between the Squire and his sons Osborn and Roger.  This makes way for some deeper contextual issues to be explored through the anti-Catholic and anti-French attitudes held by the Squire, and the political context of Tory versus Whig as well as the roles of science and art in late 1820s society.  The rise of science and knowledge forms an important plot point and it is no coincidence that Elizabeth Gaskell had previously begun to map out ideas for the novel whilst on holiday in Edinburgh after visiting her relative Charles Darwin.  Initially she had some difficulties deciding upon a title and it could be she was inspired by the title of Ivan Turgenev’s 1862 novel Fathers and Sons, particularly as both writers were aware of each other through mutual friends.

Wives and Daughters is often thought of as Gaskell’s masterpiece and it is all the more remarkable when considering the extreme pressure she was under both personally and professionally.  Producing an instalment each month required working to a tight schedule, although she found Cornhill less pressurized to write for as she was given more freedom than in her previous dealings with Dickens and Household Words.  However, there were many calls on her time during this period, as there were problems within her own family.  Her eldest daughter Marianne had been engaged to her second cousin Thurston for some time.  Thurson’s father was not happy about the engagement as he wanted his son to make a more financially advantageous marriage, a theme which made its way into Wives and Daughters.  In addition, her second daughter Meta was recovering from health issues.  To add to her stress levels, she was also involved in a house purchase which her beloved husband knew nothing about, a venture which would have been highly unusual in Victorian times.  Her plan was to buy The Lawn, near Alton in Hampshire, far away from industrial Manchester, as a place for her husband to retire to.  She was using money from her novel to finance the deal, but even in the nineteenth century, house purchases were far from straightforward and this no doubt added to her stress levels.

Although Elizabeth Gaskell was unable to complete what many have described as her best novel, the point at which she leaves off, and the concluding remarks offered by the editor of Cornhill provide a satisfying close to the narrative. So, allow Molly to lead you through the fortunes and trials of the Gibsons, Hamleys and many more interesting characters.

[1] Jenny Uglow, Elizabeth Gaskell: A Habit of Stories (London: Faber and Faber, 1999)

Main image: Elizabeth Gaskell House, Manchester. Credit: Allotment boy 1 / Alamy Stock Photo

Image 1 above: Cast of Elizabeth Gaskell (1810-1865) Credit: World History Archive / Alamy Stock Photo

Image 2 above: Elizabeth Gaskell Memorial Tower and King’s Coffee House, King Street, Knutsford, Cheshire. Credit: John Keates / Alamy Stock Photo

For more information on Elizabeth Gaskell’s life and works, visit: The Gaskell Society 

Details of Elizabeth Gaskell’s house can be found here: elizabethgaskellhouse.co.uk

Our full range of her titles, including our collection of her excellent ghost stories, can be found here

Elizabeth Gaskell and ‘Wives and Daughters’

Elizabeth Gaskell and ‘Wives and Daughters’

Elizabeth Gaskell and ‘Wives and Daughters’

Elizabeth Gaskell and ‘Wives and Daughters’

Elizabeth Gaskell and ‘Wives and Daughters’

The post Elizabeth Gaskell and ‘Wives and Daughters’ appeared first on Wordsworth Editions.

And what did I find? An accurate daguerreotyped portrait of a common-place face; a carefully-fenced, highly cultivated garden with neat borders and delicate flowers – but no glance of a bright vivid physiognomy – no open country – no fresh air – no blue hill – no bonny beck.  I should hardly like to live with her ladies and gentlemen in their elegant but confined houses.[1]

Ouch. In other words, Jane Austen’s style of writing is controlled, contained and ‘confined’, and one could even say, despite the sophistication of the society presented, it is a little common-place.  That is, if you agree with Miss Brontë. Book of the Week: Pride and Prejudice

The next time I encountered Pride and Prejudice I was a mature undergraduate student and I was not all that enthused as finding this novel on my reading list.  However, after reading the first chapter I experienced a shift in my earlier opinions and was impressed by how much Austen achieves in the space of just a few pages.  Plus I immediately began to appreciate Austen’s humour.

The famous first line

The opening sentence is one of the most well-known beginnings to a novel in English literary history: ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.’  The narrative voice continues to explain that regardless of how much or little is known about said man, such ideas are so powerful ‘he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.’  We are then introduced to Mr and Mrs Bennet and from their ensuing dialogue on the subject of the newly arrived Mr Bingley into the neighbourhood their characters are firmly established.  Mr Bennet appears quick witted and seems to enjoy using his words to toy with his wife. His response to her laying claim on Mr Bingley as a potential husband for one of their daughters is the question ‘Is that his design in settling here?’ Her lack of insight is immediately apparent as she takes his question at face value whilst the reader recognizes his sarcasm.  As their exchange continues Mrs Bennet declares ‘… You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my nerves.’ Her husband’s witty retort once again is not absorbed by her and is again at her expense:

‘You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least.’

Thus, the first chapter establishes the social world of the novel, with its rules and traditions, it introduces some of the significant characters in a mildly humorous way, and in case the reader is in any doubt about Mrs Bennet, concludes by informing us ‘The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and news.’ Book of the Week: Pride and Prejudice

The equally short and speedy second chapter functions to further establish familial relations within the Bennet family. The reader has already learned Elizabeth is her father’s favourite, and it becomes apparent Mrs Bennet favours Lydia as she reassures her that eligible bachelor Bingley is bound to dance with her at the forthcoming ball even though she is the youngest. She has already scolded Kitty for coughing too much as it tears her fragile nerves to pieces. Meanwhile Mary ‘wished to say something very sensible, but knew not how.’  Elizabeth soon begins to emerge as the character we are encouraged to have sympathy with.

The subsequent early chapters continue in a similarly detailed vein to introduce characters, and develop relationships and opinions which could concur with Charlotte Brontë’s rather dismissive notion Jane Austen’s style as ‘only shrewd and observant.’  Whilst her work may read like mere social observation, Austen achieves much more and offers a distinct critique of the early Nineteenth Century marriage market.  At the aforementioned ball which features the first meeting between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy, it becomes apparent that men are valued by their monetary status and income, whereas women are judged by their level of prettiness. Darcy is overheard declaring Elizabeth to be ‘tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me.’  Austen employs the technique of free indirect speech whereby narrative commentary adopts character opinion as we learn Darcy ‘was the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world, and every body hoped that he would never come there again.’ (Chapter 3).

Pride and Prejudice initially began life as a manuscript entitled ‘First Impressions’ completed in 1797 when Austen was only 21, the same age as Elizabeth Bennet.  Her father sought publication on her behalf but was unsuccessful.  It was not until 1813 after further re-workings that Austen herself managed to find a publisher following the success of her first novel Sense and Sensibility. The author was merely identified as ‘a Lady’ and subsequently Pride and Prejudice entered the market under the guise as ‘by the author of Sense and Sensibility’.  The novel received immediate positive reviews and there was much speculation regarding the identity of the author. Book of the Week: Pride and Prejudice

Early in the novel, we learn that the Bennet sisters are in a rather precarious situation. The family estate is entailed through the male line and as the family consists of five daughters, on the death of Mr Bennet the estate will pass to a distant relative, Mr Collins. Mr Bennet’s annual income is £2000, an amount which allows them to live in comfort and maintain an appearance of respectability as part of the landed gentry class.  They are, however, inferior to the Bingleys, a fact which the Bingley sisters and Mr Darcy are quick to recognize.  Having no male heir to succeed Mr Bennet in their immediate family, plus the added burden of providing a dowry for each of the five daughters, there is some urgency for the older Bennet girls to make a good marriage.  The superior Bingley sisters make mirth that the Bennets have an uncle who makes a living as a lawyer and another who lives ‘near Cheapside.’  At Mr Bingley’s protestations regarding such snobbery Darcy merely points out ‘But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world.’ So, there we have it, status and marriage is everything. Book of the Week: Pride and Prejudice

It is unsurprising, therefore, that poor Mrs Bennet’s nerves are again sorely tried when Elizabeth turns down her first proposal of marriage.  This proposal comes from none other than Mr Collins, the distant cousin and heir of the Bennet estate, thus such a union would be doubly beneficial to all concerned.  Mr Collins announces his intended visit in a letter, the tone of which leads Elizabeth to pronounce him as ‘pompous’ before even meeting him.  She is not wrong.  The man in person is a very sombre and serious clergyman and the narrator informs us he is ‘altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self importance and humility.’ (Chapter 15) A little contradictory I hear you cry.  His purpose in visiting the Bennets is to find himself a wife, an act which he feels will repair the rift caused by his future inheritance of the estate.  He takes every opportunity to namedrop his esteemed benefactor Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who happens to be the Aunt of Mr Darcy.  After applying his own form of logical deduction, Mr Collins sets his sights on Elizabeth as the deserving recipient of his proposal.  Much to her dismay he orchestrates an interview with her and begins by listing his three reasons for marriage.  These are, firstly it is the duty of clergymen to set a matrimonial example; secondly, he proclaims ‘it will add greatly to my happiness’ (Chapter 19); thirdly, Lady Catherine desires him to marry and has twice ‘condescended to give me her opinion (unasked too!) on this subject.’  The final reason appears to be the main driving force.

Initially he is not at all upset or perturbed by Elizabeth’s refusal because he simply does not believe it.  He informs her that he knows she does not mean her words as the fairer sex always refuses at least once in the interests of delicacy.  When refuses more forcefully he describes her actions as ‘merely words’ and proceeds again to list his rationale.  Once more, his pomposity is evident.  He patiently explains his offer is worthy and ‘highly desirable’ due to his ‘connections with the family of de Bourgh.’  He then kindly explains ‘it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever by made you.  Your portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness.’  The unwillingness of Mr Collins to believe Elizabeth lends the scene something of the farce, not lessened by Mrs Bennet’s abject horror at her daughter’s behaviour. She echoes the sentiments of Mr Collins regarding her daughter’s marriage prospects and advises her ‘if you take it into your head to go on refusing every offer of marriage in this way, you will never get a husband at all – and I am sure I do not know who is to maintain you when your father is dead.’ (Chapter 20) She concludes her speech by declaring ‘Nobody can tell what I suffer! – But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied.’  Once again, Austen provides us with a fine example of a self-obsessed comedic character through her skillful use of dialogue.

Underlying the humour though, lies a darker underside. Although Austen encourages us to find both Mr Collins and Mrs Bennet ridiculous, their dire warnings are grounded in truth and reality. Marriage was serious business and constituted the main driving force behind how women could improve their lives.  Mrs Bennet speaks the truth. She would not be able to support her daughters as a widow, and as Mr Collins so charmingly points out, Elizabeth is simply not a good catch. The limited options for her future make her actions all the braver, or foolhardy, depending on your perspective. Book of the Week: Pride and Prejudice

Despite Charlotte Brontë’s censure of Pride and Prejudice for its ‘neat borders’ and ‘confined houses’ it is such control of subject and style which allowed exploration of the detail of women’s lives and the limited power and choices available to them.  So, whether you are more familiar with the BBC adaptation of 1995 featuring an unforgettable Colin Firth as Mr Darcy, or whether, like me you encountered the novel through studying, it is well worth (re)turning to the novel and taking delight in Jane Austen’s richly drawn characters.  And as for Mr Collins, please do not worry.  He makes a marriage to a more suitable woman, a woman who is the perfect homemaker and who happens to ensure her private lounge is situated as far away as possible from her husband’s study.

Denise Hanrahan-Wells

[1] Quoted in Elizabeth Gaskell, The Life of Charlotte Bronte, p.258

Main image: Lyme Park House, Disley, Cheshire, the National Trust property used in the BBC adaptation of P & P. Credit: Andrew Turner / Alamy Stock Photo

Image 1 above: The famous first line of Pride and Prejudice. Credit: Sam Oaksey / Alamy Stock Photo

Image 2 above:Portrait of Mr. Collins talking to the Bennet girls. Caption reads: ”I can assure the young ladies that I am prepared to admire them”. First published on 28 January 1813. Illustration by British artist A. Wallis Mills (1878 – 1940). 1908. Credit: Lebrecht Authors / Alamy Stock Photo

For more information on the Life and Works of Jane Austen, see The Jane Austen Society UK

Our editions of Pride and Prejudice and more works by Jane Austen can be found here: Wordsworth Editions Jane Austen 

Book of the Week: Pride and Prejudice

The post Book of the Week: Pride and Prejudice appeared first on Wordsworth Editions.

Halloween season, in common with Christmas, is the time of year many an avid reader will reach for a ghostly tale. Whilst sitting comfortably by the fireside hopefully the story will provide just the right amount of gentle chill to the room and a soft breeze to the back of the neck. If this description appeals, ‘Man-Size in Marble’ maybe just the tale you are looking for.

This story fits the bill in a number of ways, it is set in the period leading up to Halloween, with the climax occurring on that fateful night. The tale is told by a male narrator who immediately alerts the reader that this will not be a happy tale. The opening line sets up an air of mystery: ‘Although every word of this tale is true, I do not expect people to believe it.’ He goes on to reveal: ‘There were three who took part in this; Laura and I and another man. The other man lives still, and can speak to the truth of the least credible part of my story.’ There are indeed some troubling implications established in the first paragraph, however, before exploring the story further, a little background is in order.

‘Man-Size in Marble’ was first published in Home Chimes magazine in December 1887 and came from the pen of Edith Nesbit. If that name seems familiar, it is not surprising, as she would later become famous for her highly popular novel The Railway Children (1905) and other children’s fiction including Five Children and It (1902) and The Enchanted Castle (1907). However, in addition to her successful children’s fiction, Nesbit wrote a number of chilling ghost stories for adults, in addition to poetry and other works in collaboration.

To say Edith Nesbit led a Bohemian life would be somewhat of an understatement. When she married her husband Hubert Bland, she was already seven months pregnant. During their marriage, Bland fathered two children by Nesbit’s friend Alice Hoatson, and Nesbit raised them as her own. Both Nesbit and Bland had affairs and their home in Eltham was lively place with frequent visitors, including such well known names as H.G. Wells.

Nesbit and her husband were politically active and were the co-founders of the Fabian Society, to which the roots of the Labour party can be attributed. Nesbit and Bland also wrote fiction together under the pseudonym Fabian Bland. If you look carefully, some of her socialist beliefs are apparent in her children’s fiction. Although a politically active woman writer, her attitudes towards the Women’s Suffrage Movement was at best ambivalent and at times directly opposed. Some of Nesbit’s attitudes and beliefs appear to have worked their way into her gothic stories too, along with her lifelong fascination for ghosts.

The protagonists of the tale are newly weds of slender means. Our narrator is an artist and his wife Laura a writer. They are unable to afford to live in London and so look for a cottage in the country which they hope will be “both sanitary and picturesque.” Despite their youthful idealism and inexperience, they find such a place in Kent (note the Nesbit/Bland household was in Eltham, Kent) and the reader is provided with an idyllic description of the house and garden. Our narrator reveals he ‘was never tired of sketching the view and the wonderful cloud effects from the open lattice, and Laura would sit at the table and write verses about them.’ They even manage to find an ‘old peasant woman’ with a penchant for local legends to take on all of the domestic duties as ‘Laura hated housekeeping.’ This all seems harmless enough, although there is just the tiniest bit of implicit criticism of their idealism embedded here which becomes more apparent as you read on. They may be ‘as happy as the summer was glorious’ but in any good gothic tale the reader knows such happiness cannot last.

Sure enough, our narrator returns home one October evening to find Laura ‘a crumpled heap of pale muslin, weeping on the window seat.’ The source of her misery is their housekeeper Mrs Dorman announcing she needs to leave them before the end of the month. Laura’s language and level of distress at such news is somewhat melodramatic, even by late Victorian standards as she tearfully bemoans the fact that they will have to take on the domestic chores themselves and she will have no time for writing. One might think, as a woman writer herself, Nesbit may have provided a more sympathetic portrayal, yet her characterization of Laura is an ambivalent one. There are some subtle barbs against Laura’s fear of physical work, coupled with the fact that the narrator finds her laughing at her own written jokes. Nesbit may be employing some subtle humour here to position and critique the protagonists as products of an over refined gentry who were afraid of hard work.  Possibly, Nesbit is also offering a satire of the emerging figure of the New Woman in late Victorian society. Writer Sarah Grand employed the term ‘new woman’ to identify women who were become more independent and sought radical change regarding their own rights, a movement of which Nesbit was highly critical.

However, ‘Man-Size in Marble’ is far more than a vehicle for Nesbit to put forward her ideals. It has, at its core, all the ingredients for a chilling gothic tale. It soon becomes clear that there is something sinister behind Mrs Dorman’s need to leave before the end of October. Despite the narrator’s best efforts to persuade her, she insistently repeats she must leave before the last day of the month. He soon realizes she is concealing something. After much encouragement she obliquely refers to the history of the house in Catholic times, and certain deeds which were done in the past. We learn the ‘nature of the ‘deeds’ might be vaguely inferred from the inflection of Mrs Dorman’s voice, which was enough to make one’s blood run cold.’

Eventually, it becomes clear Mrs Dorman is too fearful to remain in the house and with further encouragement she reveals why. The source of her fear concerns their house, a local legend, and, of course, Halloween. Yet, our narrator is a man of logic and so he pays little attention to her dire warnings, and does not relay the tale to Laura because he feels it would upset her, but also feels there is ‘some more occult reason’ which begs the reader to ask what this could be.

Thus, the story has all the classic ingredients of a ghostly tale – a local legend pertaining to their house, a fearful peasant woman issuing warnings which are ignored, and a ‘large and lonely’ deserted Norman Church nearby. All this and Halloween.

Yet, there is some curious complexity to this little tale. It is sometimes difficult to position our narrator. He clearly adores his wife although at times is a little patronizing and makes light of her fears of being left alone when he wants to step outside to smoke his pipe. He tells her ‘Pussy, you’re over tired. The housework has been too much for you.’ Is he foolish and arrogant for ignoring Mrs Dorman’s warnings, or is he an example of a rational late Victorian man who may enjoy listening to a bit of local folklore, but is far too logical to believe in the existence of the supernatural? Indeed, he sets out to disprove the legend. Such conflicting beliefs were part of the 1880s, a post Darwinian age when interest in Spiritualism and seances was on the increase. Nevertheless, the portents of doom are there and gather momentum as the reader progresses through the story. Mark Gatiss positions ‘Man-Size in Marble’ as one of the most terrifying stories he has ever read. It can be found in Classic Victorian and Edwardian Ghost Stories along with many other suitable offerings for Halloween. Read on if you dare…

Denise Hanrahan-Wells

For more information on the life and works of Edith Nesbit, visit the website of The Edith Nesbit Society

The post Man-Size in Marble: A Tale for Halloween appeared first on Wordsworth Editions.

‘Oh, will I ever learn to stop and reflect a little before doing reckless things? Mrs Lynde always told me I would do something dreadful someday, and now I’ve done it.’

Fans of the eponymous orphan Anne Shirley will have probably first encountered her in L.M. Montgomery’s novel Anne of Green Gables, published in 1908. The publishers must have had faith in its potential as Lucy Maud Montgomery was tasked with writing a sequel before the print run of her first novel was completed. Thus, Anne of Avonlea arrived on the shelves in 1909 to great success.

Anne of Green Gables follows young Anne Shirley from her first arrival at the Cuthbert’s farm brought about by a mistake made by the orphanage where she was formerly residing. Siblings Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert had requested to adopt a boy to help them with the farm work. They are soon both foiled in their intentions to return Anne in favour of the sought after boy, as they become increasingly captivated by the imaginative, talkative young redhead with a fiery temper to match her hair. The novel documents Anne’s exploits and development and at the conclusion she is sixteen years old and has already had to make some difficult decisions. Despite her keen intelligence and potential Anne decides to forego college and remain at home to support an ailing Marilla.

Avonlea School, Green Gables, Prince Edward Island.

Anne of Avonlea picks up almost where Anne of Green Gables left off and the narrator informs us ‘Anne is half-past sixteen’ and about to take up her first teaching post at the local school. The novel covers a two-year period in Anne’s life, and rather than presenting a sustained linear narrative, the reader is offered a series of incidents and vignettes. Characters from the earlier novel return, along with some well-developed new additions. This format provides Maud (as she preferred to be known) with an ideal format in which to not only follow Anne’s growing maturity, but also to address some proto-feminist concerns such as women’s education and marriage. Any evidence of feminism in the text is of the gentle variety though. Anne and her friends form the Avonlea Village Improvement Society of which Anne and her best friend Diana Barry are Secretary and Treasurer whereas the more senior roles of President and Vice President are held by Gilbert Blythe and Fred White. Thus, in this instance, traditional gender roles are maintained.

Anne’s assertiveness and independence of spirit are evident throughout though. During an angry encounter with their new neighbour Mr Harrison, he calls her a ‘red-headed snippet’. Anne’s customary temper flares and drives her cutting response ‘I’d rather have red hair than none at all except a little fringe around my ears.’ Anne’s tendency to get into scrapes is still present despite being half-past sixteen. An early example is where she accidentally sells the aforementioned Mr Harrison’s cow, believing it to be her own. Despite this incident, Anne’s courage in owning up to her guilt ensures she wins over the cranky Mr Harrison and ultimately, they become firm friends.

The novel inadvertently provides a snapshot of certain aspects of life in small town Canada during Edwardian times. The arrangements surrounding Anne’s first job as schoolmistress would have been fairly typical of the time in settlements like Avonlea. At just sixteen, Anne is responsible for educating the entire school. The school house consists of one room in which children of all ages are housed together. In Canada, school was compulsory for all children aged between eight and fourteen, and it is apparent Anne has to deal with a similar breadth of age groups single handedly. Montgomery herself was a teacher before giving up her work to write full time and appears to utilize some of Anne’s strongly held ideals and opinions to engage with educational debates. Chapter 4, aptly titled ‘Different Opinions’ features conversations between Anne and other characters on the merits (or not) of corporal punishment. Before taking up her post, Anne discusses such issues with her friends Jane Andrews and Gilbert Blythe who are also about to become teachers at other schools. Jane believes the ‘main thing will be to keep order’ a worthy consideration as some of the pupils may be around the same age as the teacher. The exchange

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between Jane and Anne clearly sets out both sides of the debate and begins with Jane’s statement:

‘… If my pupils won’t do as I tell them I shall punish them.’

‘How?’

‘Give them a good whipping, of course’

‘Oh, Jane, you wouldn’t,’ cried Anne, shocked. ‘Jane, you couldn’t!’

‘Indeed I could and would, if they deserved it,’ said Jane decidedly.

‘I could never whip a child,’ said Anne with equal decision. ‘I don’t believe in it at all… I shall try to win my pupils’ affections and then they will want to do what I tell them.’

Despite Mr Harrison’s droit maxim of ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ Anne enters the next chapter and her first day at school determined to win over her pupils through ‘patience and kindness.’ As you might imagine, Anne encounters many trials and tribulations along the way. One of these comes in the shape of young Anthony Pye who frequently and vociferously expresses his opinion that ‘girl teachers are no good.’

Montgomery skilfully embeds debates around gender, sometimes through the use of humour. In a letter to a friend outlining her early experiences of teaching, Anne relays some of the responses given by her pupils to the question as to what ‘things they most wanted.’ This occurs in Chapter 11 entitled ‘Facts and Fancies’. In Anne’s selected examples, ten-year-old Marjory White declared she wanted to be a widow because ‘… if you weren’t married people called you an old maid, and if you were your husband bossed you; but if you were a widow there’d be no danger of either.’ This is offered with no narrative interpretation but does rather contain more than a grain of truth regarding the status of women at this time. Anne of Avonlea

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The topic of marriage is one which comes up a number of times, again usually without any narrative intrusion which is a safe way of getting across ideas, or at the very least, raising questions in the minds of the young Edwardian reader. At one point a couple of townsfolk are discussing the idea of Anne heading off to college and one of them remarks there is little point in Anne furthering her education as she will probably end up marrying Gilbert Blythe. That these words are spoken by one of the less likeable village gossips must have some significance.  Attitudes towards spinsterhood are evident, but also challenged. New character Miss Lavendar Lewis is referred to somewhat dismissively by Diana Barry as ‘she’s an old maid – she’s forty-five and quite grey’ (Chapter 21). Yet on meeting Miss Lavendar Anne discovers she is far from being a conventional spinster and discovers in her another ‘kindred spirit’. At one point Anne’s friend the Minister’s wife is about to mention marriage to Anne but checks herself as she recognises ‘there was far more of the child than of the woman’ in Anne.

Maud herself somewhat defied the standards of the day when it came to marriage. At the time of writing the novel she was to all appearances a spinster. However, she was secretly engaged to Presbyterian Minister Ewan Macdonald, and it was not until 1911 at the age of thirty-six that she finally married. Their path to marriage was a lengthy one. According to the comprehensive and thoroughly researched biography by Mary Henley Rubio, legend has it that Macdonald first came to call on Maud in 1905, just as she was writing the final lines of Anne of Green Gables.[1] Despite becoming Mrs Macdonald, she maintained her gender-neutral name of L.M. Montgomery throughout her writing career, a career which was most prolific. By the end of her life in 1942 she had written twenty novels, five hundred poems, more than five hundred short stories, and extensive journals.

Eventually the Macdonalds settled in a suburb of Toronto, Ontario but Maud’s love of Cavendish, Prince Edward Island remained, and comes across in the poetic language used to describe nature as ‘September slipped by into a gold and crimson graciousness of October’ (Chapter 21). Despite the decline in popularity of her novels as the 1920s dawned and modernist writing attracted more interest, the novels featuring Anne Shirley have remained consistently in print for all to enjoy.

[1] Mary Henley Rubio, Lucy Maud Montgomery: The Gift of Wings, (Anchor: Canada, 2010)

Main image: Avonlea Village, Green Gables, Prince Edward Island, Canada. Credit: All Canada Photos / Alamy Stock Photo. Details of the Green Gables Heritage Place can be found here

Image 1 above: Facade of the Avonlea School, Green Gables, Prince Edward Island, Canada Credit: Keith Levit / Alamy Stock Photo

Image 2 & 3 above: Covers of our new classic edition of Anne of Green Gables / Anne of Avonlea and our Luxe edition of Anne of Green Gables.

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I first came across A Little Princess through the 1973 BBC adaptation and was immediately captivated by it. I am not sure exactly what drew me in but having recently returned to the original novel I realise I was a similar age to the gently heroic Sara Crewe when the narrative begins. Frances Hodgson Burnett’s tale of the experiences of young Sara, born in India and who at the tender age of seven arrives at Miss Minchin’s Select Seminary for Young Ladies in London, has remained in print since its first publication in 1905.

Just to clarify, Sara is not actually a princess, although at the start of the narrative she is extremely privileged, wealthy and much loved by her father Captain Crewe.  She arrives at school with an elaborate wardrobe with ‘sable and ermine on her coats, and real Valenciennes lace on her underclothing’ (Chapter 1).  Her favourite doll Emily also has an extensive wardrobe and Sara’s status is such that she has her own private sitting-room and a French maid. The very strict Miss Minchin finds her clothing ‘perfectly ridiculous’ for a child of her age, but is more than happy to exploit the benefits of having such a wealthy pupil at her school.

The narrative is a relatively simple one and on the surface this may seem like an ordinary school novel, in that Sara has to overcome her initial homesickness at leaving her beloved father, and cope with a headmistress who does not like her. There are the challenges of making friends as she is unable to win the approval of the clique of popular girls led by the nasty Lavinia. Despite these challenges, Sara settles in and all is well until her eleventh birthday at which point tragedy strikes when Miss Minchin receives news of Captain Crewe’s death.  This is where matters take a decided turn for the worst as Captain Crewe has lost his fortune through a disastrous investment in a diamond mine. Sara is left a penniless and homeless orphan at the mercy of Miss Minchin. Rather than turn her out onto the street, Miss Minchin is persuaded to consider her reputation and instead puts Sara to work and banishes her to a cold attic, minus her extensive wardrobe.  The rest of the narrative follows Sara’s efforts to survive her harsh living conditions and her attempts to make the best of her situation by relying on her very active imagination. However, if you peel away the top layer of an apparently simple children’s story, it becomes apparent Frances Hodgson Burnett has something to say about child poverty in Edwardian Britain.

The novel went through a number of incarnations, beginning as a serialized short story in 1887, before becoming a successful stage play during the 1890s. In 1905 it was expanded into the novel we now have.  Its original title was A Little Princess: Being the Whole Story of Sara Crewe Now Being Told for the First Time. This included an introduction written by Burnett in which she said ‘… between the lines of every story there is another story…’ Burnett’s reasons for expanding and developing the story were, in part, financially motivated. Following her divorce from Swan Burnett and then a second divorce after a disastrous short marriage to Stephen Townsend, a man somewhat her junior, Burnett found herself in need of some additional income. This was solved by transforming the stage version of A Little Princess into a novel.

Frances Hodgson Burnett 1888

This was not Burnett’s first foray into writing. Her early career saw her produce short stories for American magazines. Her first novel, That Lass O’Lowrie’s, set in Lancashire, was published in 1877. Following her marriage to Swan Burnett, she continued to write novels and plays, although her most remembered books are Little Lord Fauntleroy (1886) and The Secret Garden (1911).

In the course of her writing, Burnett may have drawn upon aspects of her own experiences. Her father died in 1852 when she was just three years old. Her father owned an ironmonger and silversmith business in the centre of Manchester. Following his death, her mother tried to keep the business afloat, but not without difficulty. Their finances diminished and the family were forced to move to a smaller home, close to an area of poverty and overcrowded housing. The descriptions of poverty which are present in A Little Princess may have been inspired by some of the images she saw during her childhood, albeit transferred from Manchester to the streets of London.  The family finances hit hard times and the decision was made to emigrate to America, and in 1865 they settled in Tennessee.

The novel’s engagement with wealth and poverty has some complexity as there is no simple critique of either.  Sara is the richest girl in the school before her father’s loss of fortune, and yet she has the greatest sense of morality of all the characters in the book. Instead of forming friendships with the most popular girls in the school, she befriends a girl by the name of Ermengarde who is somewhat of an outcast because she is ‘a fat child, who did not look as if she were in the least clever’.  However, Sara sees beneath this superficial description and notices her ‘good-naturedly pouting mouth’ (Chapter 3). She also forms an attachment to Becky the scullery maid after the exhausted girl accidentally falls asleep in Sara’s sitting-room.  When Captain Crewe’s death makes Sara penniless she drops to the same status as Becky the scullery maid. This status is made clear by Miss Minchin when she tells Sara “Becky is the scullery-maid. Scullery-maids are not little girls.” (Chapter 7) This is a very telling comment in the way it dehumanizes her position in the household. An early description of Becky makes clear the impact her life of drudgery has had upon her:

‘She was a forlorn little thing who had just taken the place of scullery-maid – though, as to being scullery-maid, she was everything else besides. She blacked boots and grates, and carried heavy coal-scuttles up and down stairs, and scrubbed floors and cleaned windows, and was ordered about by everybody. She was fourteen years old, but was so stunted in growth that she looked about twelve.’ (Chapter 5)

The scullery maid did indeed hold the lowest rank within the household staff, with the housekeeper, cook, kitchen maid and parlour maid all being her superior. Often scullery maids had the longest working day and were looked down upon by other servants and sometimes were not allowed to eat at the servants’ dining table.

Burnett also presents a kind of hierarchy regarding the subject of child poverty. Although poor Becky is treated appallingly as a scullery maid, she does receive a meagre income. She has a roof over her head, albeit in the cold and comfortless attic, and has a meagre supply of food, provided she is not being punished for something which is not her fault. When Sara loses her place as pupil, she finds herself in the stark and cold attic room next to Becky. However, she receives no income and in many ways her role is less clearly defined but certainly no easier. She too is frequently and unfairly punished by the Cook for some false misdemeanour and often denied dinner.  Sara’s way to deal with the daily miseries of her reduced position is to rely on her imagination and she tells Becky: ‘What you have to do with your mind, when your body is miserable, is to make it think of something else.’ (Chapter 13) The something else in Sara’s case is to imagine she is a fairy princess who cannot be hurt or made uncomfortable by anything, and to maintain a sense of dignity regardless of the predicament she finds herself in. She remains determined to behave like a princess on the inside, even when she cannot be one on the outside.

On one of Sara’s most challenging days she encounters a little girl even more forlorn than herself. Although this is children’s fiction, Burnett uses Sara as a kind of observer of her surroundings as the reader learns of her thoughts on the sights and sounds of London during her numerous errands. On this particular day, we learn Sara has been sent out on a number of errands in bad weather in her wet shabby clothes and her ‘down-trodden shoes were so wet that they could not hold any more water. Added to this, she had been deprived of her dinner, because Miss Minchin had chosen to punish her.’ This all occurs in Chapter 13 which bears the socially aware title ‘One of the Populace’. The girl Sara stumbles across is unnamed at this point which is befitting of her status. She is described as:

‘… a little figure which was not much more than a bundle of rags, from which small, bare, red, muddy feet peeped out, only because the rags with which their owner was trying to cover them were not long enough. Above the rags appeared a shock head of tangled hair, and a dirty face with big, hollow, hungry eyes.’

Sara had just found a fourpenny piece in the gutter and was dreaming of buying a bag of freshly baked buns which had tantalizingly appeared in the window of the Bakery. This she does, but gives the bag of buns to the little beggar girl, saving just one for herself.

The language used by Burnett throughout the book is relatively simple to suit the intended reader age, yet this makes some of the harsher images all the more poignant. Despite the novel’s age and the potentially young target audience, Burnett has managed to work in some well-placed social observations. The fact that there have been so many adaptations seems to speak to the timeless nature of the themes of the novel. The first film version appeared in 1917, starring Mary Pickford as Sara. Many of the adaptations differ from the original story, in particular the 1939 version featuring Shirley Temple in the starring role. Numerous other film and TV adaptations take some liberties with the plot, although the 1986 TV series which cast Maureen Lipman as the strict Miss Minchin, remains faithful to the original storyline and even includes some of Burnett’s original dialogue.

Regardless of the success of the various adaptations, it is still worth returning to the original novel. The ways in which the young protagonist navigates her way through life even when she has no control over her change of fortune, and the manner in which she deals with sadness, loneliness and injustice still has as much resonance today as it did in 1905.

Main image: Centre – Blue plaque marking the home of the author,  Portland place, London. Credit: Mick Sinclair / Alamy Stock Photo Outer images
Outer images and image of FHB above Credit: Chronicle / Alamy Stock Photo

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‘Mary Elizabeth Braddon was a contemporary of Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins, and yet is nowhere nearly as well known. If her name does spark any recognition, it is usually in connection with her novel Lady Audley’s Secret, published by Wordsworth Classics with an Introduction by Esther Saxey. Yet Braddon’s output during her life was prolific, often producing two novels a year, most of which were serialized in the popular magazines of the time. She also wrote plays, poetry and short stories. Curiously though, it is Lady Audley’s Secret and Aurora Floyd, both published in 1862, which have received most of the academic attention over the years, despite the fact that her publishing career began in 1860 with Three Times Dead and ended with Mary, published posthumously in 1916.

Portrait of the author by By Edward Linley Sambourne 1881

Her biography reads a little like a plot from one of her own sensational novels and Stephen Carver’s article on Lady Audley’s Secret provides comprehensive details.  However, to summarise, her parents’ marriage was not a happy one and eventually they became estranged. In 1852, at the age of seventeen, Mary became an actress in order to support herself and her mother, using the stage name Mary Seyton. This was not a respectable way for women to earn money and thus began her rather dubious reputation. She gave up acting to pursue her writing career fulltime after meeting publisher John Maxwell in 1859. Their relationship soon combined the professional with the personal and she moved into his home as his wife. The only problem was, Maxwell was still married to Mary Anne, who was either living with her family or was constrained within an asylum in Ireland, depending on which version of the story you believe. Nevertheless, Braddon and Maxwell pretended to be married and had children together. Eventually the truth behind their façade came out which caused a fair amount of scandal, although they were eventually legally married following the death of Maxwell’s wife in 1874.

In addition to Braddon’s novels, she wrote a number of short stories, many with a supernatural feel. These were published in the popular journals of the time, although were not anthologized during her lifetime. One of these stories, ‘Eveline’s Visitant’ can be found in Classic Victorian and Edwardian Ghost Stories edited by Rex Collins, in Wordsworth’s Tales of Mystery and the Supernatural.

‘Eveline’s Visitant’ was originally published in Belgravia magazine in 1867, some six years after Lady Audley’s Secret. Belgravia was Braddon’s own magazine, which she started in 1866 and edited for ten years. This story differs in some ways from the sensation novel genre which made Braddon famous.  These frequently take typical upper class or middle class settings such as the country house as their premise. Instead, Braddon creates a sense of distance as the opening line tells the reader ‘It was at the masked ball at the Palais Royal that my fatal quarrel with my first cousin André de Brissac began.’

The first-person male narration immediately draws the reader in as we realise he is about to tell us an important story:

‘I can feel the chill breath of that August morning blowing in my face, as I sit in my dismal chamber at my chateau of Puy Verdun tonight, alone in the stillness, writing the strange story of my life. I can see the white mist rising from the river, the grim outline of the Chatelet, and the square towers of Notre Dame black against the pale-grey sky.’

Memorial in St Mary Magdalene church, Richmond-upon-Thames

Braddon successfully creates a strong sense of place, alerting the reader to the narrator’s location in Paris through mention of his view of ‘Notre Dame’ with such specific details creating a feeling of authenticity about the tale.  That his view may be partially obscured by ‘the white mist rising from the river’ as he sits in his ‘dismal chamber’ suggests this will not be a happy tale. The ominous feeling is strengthened through further evocation of the senses as he feels a ‘chill breath’ of an ‘August morning’, all of which compounds the increasingly gothic tone.  Braddon achieves all of this by the third paragraph of the story.

Our narrator draws upon his memories to reveal he was ‘a rough soldier’ who quarreled with his cousin, André de Brissac, a man of superior status. It is only at this point our narrator is given a name, Hector, and we learn the dispute was over a woman and took place at a masked ball. It is intimated a duel followed as he strikes his cousin on the face, they fight, and the cousin is ‘mortally wounded’.

Hector immediately regretted his actions and begged forgiveness. However, such forgiveness was not forthcoming and André responded with the chilling words: ‘I will be with you when you least look to see me’.  André’s anger at his approaching death was clear as he issued forth a curse:

‘I will come to you when your life seems brightest. I will come between you and all that you hold fairest and dearest. My ghostly hand shall drop a poison in your cup of joy… It is my will to haunt you when I am dead.’

Braddon’s use of short, sharp sentences, evoke the feeling of André’s failing breath as he delivers this dire warning to his cousin.  Thus, Braddon has nicely set up the scenario for a ghostly tale. The language used, has a feeling of an earlier time period, as does the cause of death by duel, and these aspects, added to the European castle like setting evokes an earlier style of gothic writing. The second word of the title is worth considering too. The term ‘visitant’ is an archaic term to refer to a visitor, but it can also suggest the visitor may be some kind of supernatural being. The threat to the narrator’s future happiness is clear, despite the fact he has inherited his cousin’s chateau, land and wealth.  As might be expected, Hector reveals he was initially consumed by guilt and as he was shunned by villagers due to his deed, and for three years led a reclusive life.

Eventually Hector tires of his solitude, and travels to Paris where he meets the beautiful and angelic Eveline. They marry and return home where he joyfully informs the reader of the change in his emotional fortunes to match his material gains:

‘Ah, how sweet a change there was in my life and in my home! The village children no longer shrank appalled as the dark horseman rode by, the village crones no longer crossed themselves…’

Annesley today

This is all thanks to the presence of Eveline who wins over the hearts of the villagers. Their married life is happy and Hector has all but forgotten his guilt. Now, the seasoned reader of ghost stories will realise by now that such ‘halcyon hours’ are destined to be short lived. It is not for me to reveal the finer details, other than to say this is an intriguing tale which at times is quite psychological in nature and somewhat reminiscent of that master of gothic Edgar Allan Poe. The suspense and tight control maintained by the narrator is comparable to ‘Ligeia’ which can be found in Poe’s Tales of Mystery and Imagination.

It would appear Braddon is drawing on her imagination in creating the French setting in this story, as there is little evidence to suggest she travelled abroad. In a letter to Edward Bulwer-Lytton, her literary mentor, she bemoans the amount of time she devotes to her writing, saying ‘I am not able to stir from London, or would spend my money in travelling; but am altogether bound hand and foot by hard work.’[i]  Later though, she was able to spend time away from their home in Richmond as her continuing success allowed her to have a country residence built in the hamlet of Bank, near Lyndhurst in the New Forest. This large house, by the name of Annersley, was completed in 1884, by which time she was a respectable married woman.  Braddon became something of a celebrity in the area, and their summer visits were often announced in the local newspaper.

This all seems far away though, from the estate of Puy Verdun described in this story which ‘lay in the heart of a desolate region’. That ‘Eveline’s Visitant’ is one of Braddon’s most frequently anthologized stories indicates something of the quality and marks it out as worth investigating, along with the other offerings in Classic Victorian and Edwardian Ghost Stories.

Denise Hanrahan-Wells 

[i] Quoted in Wolff, R.L., Sensational Victorian: The Life of Mary Elizabeth Braddon, New York: Garland, 1979, p.134.

Main image: Bank at Lyndhurst. New Forest. 1910 Credit: Pictures Now / Alamy Stock Photo

Image 1 above: ‘Punch’ portrait by Edward Linley Sambourne, 1881. Credit: Photo 12 / Alamy Stock Photo

Image 2 above: Bronze relief by J E Hyett in St Mary Magdalene church, Richmond-upon-Thames Credit: Mick Sinclair / Alamy Stock Photo

Image 3 above: Annesley today, courtesy of Denise Hanrahan-Wells

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I should point out that Gaskell’s gothic stories are not merely chilling ghostly tales lacking in the kind of political and social issues addressed in her novels. If anything, the gothic form gave Gaskell greater freedom to engage with concerns which were dear to her heart, such as social and political injustice particularly as it related to women’s lives.  Many of her gothic tales take as their point of inspiration actual or legendary events, two such examples being her short story ‘The Old Nurse’s Story’ and her novella ‘Lois the Witch’. Yet these supposed similarities are a little misleading as when you delve deeper into her gothic tales it becomes apparent her ghost stories employed a variety of narrative styles and subject matter. For example, the inspiration for ‘The Old Nurse’s Story’ originates from a Haworth legend of a woman who was seduced by her brother-in-law and became pregnant.  She was locked up by her father and shunned by her sisters and the ghosts of the woman and her daughter were said to have haunted the local area.

Other stories in the collection are similarly varied in nature. For example, ‘Disappearances’ is more of a series of anecdotes rather than a story with a single narrative focus, and as the title suggests, relays accounts of various people who disappeared under mysterious circumstances. In contrast, ‘The Poor Clare’ whilst also fictionalizing local legends and actual events, adopts a stronger supernatural stance, whereas ‘The Squire’s Story’ is much more satirical in style.

‘Lois the Witch’ casts back to New England, America in the 1690s and takes as its inspiration the events of the Salem Witch Trials. The American setting may seem unusual, but Gaskell wrote the story with an American audience in mind.  However, it was initially serialized in All the Year Round in October 1859, an appropriate offering for Halloween.  The Nineteenth Century British reader would probably have had some familiarity with the Salem Witch Trials, as a number of paintings were produced during the Century detailing various scenes from the trials. Gaskell’s research on the historical context surrounding the Salem Witch Trials was largely based on the work of Unitarian Boston minister Charles Upham’s Lectures on Witchcraft, Comprising a History of the Delusions of Salem, in 1692 published in 1830.

Salem memorial and house

The basic events of the Salem Witch Trials are that in 1692, 19 people were convicted of witchcraft and taken to Gallows Hill, which was a barren slope near Salem Village, where they were hanged.  Another man who was over 80 years old was pressed to death under heavy stones for refusing to submit to a trial on witchcraft charges. Hundreds of others faced accusations of witchcraft. Many languished in jail for months on end without trials.  Then, almost as soon as it had begun, the hysteria that swept through Puritan Massachusetts ended. There was nothing particularly new or unusual about accusations of witchcraft. What was significant was the rapidity with which the charges spread and the fact that all claims and accusations of witchcraft were believed.  More people were executed in the Salem Witch Trials than had previously been executed in the history of New England.

Gaskell’s novella begins in May 1691, nine months before the witch hunting epidemic started in February 1692.  Orphaned Lois Barclay has left her home in Warwickshire to live with her Puritan Aunt and Uncle in Salem, Massachusetts. Lois has no living relatives in England, her parents have recently died and her last remaining Uncle was killed in the battle of Edgehill in the English Civil War. Thus, Gaskell starts her tale by blending fact with fiction. Some have theorized Lois was based on the real-life figure of Rebecca Nurse, however, I would dispute this as Nurse was in her 70s in 1692.

Gaskell successfully uses the first chapter to establish the context of fear and hardship experienced by the settlers in Puritan New England. She embeds into her tale some of the reasons which are thought to have combined to contribute to the rising hysteria which led to the spiraling accusations, trials and executions.  The ongoing frontier war with American Indians was a constant source of fear and anxiety as well as a drain on resources. Add to this a harsh winter, religious disputes, various personal jealousies, congregational strife and teenage boredom and this becomes the perfect storm which made way for the trials.

Lois becomes aware of some of these issues as soon as she arrives and before undertaking the last part of her journey to Salem. The kindly Captain Holdernesse who accompanies Lois describes the New Englanders as ‘a queer set… They are rare chaps for praying; down on their knees at every turn of their life.’ Her temporary stop over with Widow Smith will prove to be far more welcoming than the home reluctantly offered by her Aunt.  The unfamiliar ways of the Puritans immediately make Lois feel lonely and out of place. That Puritan women are required to keep silent is made clear through mention of the unusual status enjoyed by Widow Smith as her benevolence ‘gave her the liberty of speech which was tacitly denied to many.’

In addition to the Puritan ways, the unfamiliarity of the American landscape and the presence of American Indians contribute to the growing sense of trepidation experienced by Lois. Gaskell draws on her reading of Upham’s work as Widow Smith tells her:

‘…folk are ordered to keep four scouts, or companies of minute-men; six persons in each company; to be on the look-out for the wild Indians, who are for ever stirring about in the woods, stealthy brutes as they are! I am sure, I got such a fright the first harvest-time after I came over to New England, I go on dreaming, now near twenty years after Lothrop’s business, of painted Indians with their shaven scalps and their war-streaks, lurking behind the trees, and coming nearer and nearer with their noiseless steps.’

Thus, Widow Smith makes clear the strangeness of the land in which Lois finds herself. This short speech blends reference to actual measures and events along with existing fears and superstitions.  The mention of Minute Men refers to military force set up to respond instantly to attacks from American Indians. Similarly, Lothrop’s business refers to a real event in which Thomas Lothrop and his men were ambushed and killed by American Indians. This blending of facts with the opinions and fears of gives a certain weight to Widow Smith’s words. Thus, her description of the strange appearance of the American Indians and their ‘lurking behind the trees,’ moving with ‘noiseless steps’ immediately established them as different, threatening and possessing supernatural powers.

The Seventeenth Century Puritan feared what might be lurking in the unknown wilderness and the Captain’s warning ‘it is not safe to go far into the woods’ connects superstition with actual sources of danger. The settlers were under constant threat of attack from American Indians and from the French Catholics from Canada. Elder Hawkins declares ‘Satan hath many powers’ and their enemies were sent by the devil to distract them from their Christian purpose. This corrupting force extended by trying to recruit witches into their number, and through talk of witchcraft Lois unfortunately makes an enemy of Elder Hawkins. Lois refers to witchcraft scares in England, but speaks in sympathetic terms saying they ‘are fearful creatures, the witches! and yet I am sorry for the poor old women, whilst I dread them.’ Elder Hawkins will remember such dangerous talk when he later encounters Lois in Salem.

Salem house

Lois does not receive a warm welcome when she arrives at what is to be her new home in Salem. She has the unfortunate combination of being very pretty and free thinking. Her ability to stand up for herself immediately gets her off on the wrong foot with her Aunt Grace Hickson, and her beauty attracts the unwanted attentions of her cousin Manasseh. Her looks and warm temperament also stir up jealousy in her cousin Faith as Lois also catches the eye of Pastor Nolan, who Faith is in love with. In Lois, Gaskell has created a character who was ahead of her time, not just in Seventeenth Century Puritan New England, but arguably in Nineteenth Century England as well. Not only does Lois express her opinions, she is sympathetic to falsely accused witches, and intends to control her own destiny when it comes to matters of marriage.

Most of the characters in Gaskell’s tale are fictional although there have been suggestions some are based on real people. Lois is told of religious conflict between Mr Tappau and Mr Nolan and this is probably based on what happened between the real-life residents Reverend Samuel Parris and Reverend George Burrows, the latter being found guilty of witchcraft.  Cotton Mather is referred to by Grace Hickson and indeed makes an appearance when the accusations of witchcraft gather momentum.  Mather actually existed although did not take part in the real trials.  Instead, he was asked to write a record of the proceedings by the three judges.  This became The Wonders of the Invisible World and was published in 1693.  To add to the interest of Gaskell bringing him in as a character is the fact that she used the name Cotton Mather Mills as a pseudonym for some of her early short stories published in Howitt’s Journal.

The Hicksons have an elderly American Indian servant by the name of Nattee.  She tells the girls frightening stories by the fire during the long winter evenings and enjoys the sense of power this gives her.  Gaskell uses this moment to insert some social commentary stating the girls were ‘of the oppressing race, which had brought her down into a state little differing from slavery, and reduced her people to outcasts on the hunting-grounds which had belonged to her fathers.’ Figures such as Nattee existed and indeed she is reminiscent of the real-life Tituba, an American Indian servant in the household of Samuel Parris, who used to entertain his girls with supernatural tales, and was indeed the first to be executed for being a witch.

The harsh winter mentioned in the tale contributed to the ongoing difficulties of life in Salem.   Gaskell draws on Upham’s records and evokes the supernatural atmosphere through description of:

‘… the absolute stillness of the night – season – the white mist, coming nearer and nearer to the windows every evening in strange shapes, like phantoms… the hungry yells of the wild beasts approaching the cattle-pens, – these were the things which made that winter life in Salem, in the memorable time of 1691-2, seem strange and haunted…’

Grave of John Hathorne

Lois’s personal troubles increase alongside the difficult living conditions, where the threat of Satan is taken as a reality.  Reports surface of the strange behaviour of Mr Tappau’s daughters who begin to cry out as if they were being pinched by invisible fingers.  Gaskell seems to take her inspiration from the unexplained illness which befell the daughter and niece of Samuel Parris, Mr Tappau’s real life counterpart. The two girls complained of fever, became contorted with pain and alternately babbled nonsense or fell silent. Unable to find a suitable explanation, the local doctor began to suspect witchcraft as the cause and other girls fell ill with unexplained symptoms.

The sense of fear and panic of witchcraft spreads throughout the village and the narrator explains how:

‘Some in dread of death confessed from cowardice to the imaginary crimes of which they were accused, and of which they were promised a pardon on confession. Some, weak and terrified, came honestly to believe in their own guilt…’

Lois admits ‘I grow frightened of everyone’ as well she might, as her tenuous status as an outsider makes her ripe for blaming as the source of all the problems. Her own Aunt clutches at the idea Lois has bewitched her children as a means of explaining her son’s deteriorating mental condition and Lois is ‘led before Mr Hathorne.’  Again, Gaskell brings in a real figure. John Hathorne was one of the judges at the trials and was also the Great-Great-Grandfather of Nathanial Hawthorne, and it is thought the Hawthorn family adjusted their name in order to distance themselves from the trials.

Gaskell concludes her tale by explaining how later that year Salem ‘awakened from their frightful delusion’ and she reproduces the declaration of regret issued by the jurors and published in Upham’s work.  She uses the narrative voice to ask the reader to ‘remember that Grace, along with most people of her time, believed most firmly in the reality of the crime of witchcraft.’  This emphasizes that although accusations of witchcraft may have been a convenient way of disposing of enemies, the inhabitants of New England had a genuine belief in the presence of Satan and his witches in their land.

Main image: Witch statue in Salem, Massachusetts. Credit: Heidi Besen / Alamy Stock Photo

Images of Salem above courtesy Denise Hanrahan Wells

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