Delphi Complete Works of Elizabeth Gaskell

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Delphi Complete Works of Elizabeth Gaskell Page 584

by Elizabeth Gaskell


  Miss Alice Brown “ By Oak and Thorn “ must here be allowed to add her description: —

  “Such far reaches of field and valley are here as to make a not unpleasant loneliness in the land, even under full sunlight; and when, approaching the farm, you come to a smithy and mill1 dedicated to the uses of life, still the illusion is not dispelled. For in the smithy two or three leisurely men lean and look in the intervals of smiling talk, and the mill, sweet and dusty from the breath of grain, goes on working quite by itself. Great wooden beams, heavy wheels, and dusty hoppers seemed that day to be living a life of uncompanioned yet happy activity, and from without came the plash, plash, of willing water and the trickle of the feeding stream.”

  It is a place which is assuredly well worth visiting. There is no doubt in our mind that it was the Woodley referred to in “ Cranford” where the old bachelor Mr. Holbrook lived. He it was who supplied the ladies at dinner with two-pronged, black-handled forks, and made it difficult for them to know how they were to manage with their peas, while he shovelled them up into his capa-

  1 Colter’s Mill bears the following inscription and date: M S.C.: 1659.

  cious mouth with his large round-ended knife. We have been there on several occasions, sometimes with American visitors who are always immensely interested. On one occasion we were able to point out a cuckoo flying near. As our friends had never heard a skylark’s song we pulled up occasionally to give them an oppor- tuuity of hearing one.

  An aged couple who live a few miles from Boston (the Boston we mean, need we say, Mass., U.S.A.?) called to see us and to inquire the way thither. They leisurely strolled out, taking a few sandwiches with them, and had returned to within a mile of Knutsford, when they were met by a cyclist who informed them that he had come all the way from Manchester to see Knutsford, and that it was his intention, if they could direct him, to go over to Sandlebridge. His daughter had been so charmed with “ Cranford “ that he must needs turn out on his bicycle so long a distance, poor martyr! He was somewhat surprised when our friends told him they had travelled across the Atlantic to see this same charming “ Cranford.”

  Within a month after her birth the child lost her mother, and after being entrusted for a week to the care of a shopkeeper’s wife, was by a family friend (a Mrs. Whittington) brought over to her own mother’s sister, Mrs. Lumb, of the Heathside, Knutsford.1 Her aunt, but recently married, was obliged for painful reasons to live alone with her daughter, and Elizabeth was to be a companion to this child, who had become a cripple. She found a second mother in her aunt, more especially after the death of her cousin. When about fifteen years of age she was sent to a school kept by Miss Byerley at Stratford-on-Avon, where she was taught Latin as well as French and Italian. Her knowledge of the Midlands may be found in “ Ruth.” Here she remained two years. The disappearance of her only brother, John Stevenson, on his third or fourth voyage as a lieutenant in the merchant navy about 1827, suggested the “Poor Peter” episode in “ Cranford “ and probably the character 1 We have a lantern slide of Hannah, relict of Samuel Lumb, of Wakefield, and daughter of Samuel and Anne Holland, who died May ist, 1837, aged 69, taken from a picture in the possession of the Rev. S. A. Steinthal.

  of “ Poor Frederick” in “ North and South.” She occasionally visited London, and spent two winters at Newcastle- on-Tyne in the family of Mr. Turner, a public-spirited Unitarian minister (probably the Mr. Benson of “Ruth”) and another at Edinburgh, the society of which afterwards suggested “ Round the Sofa,” the introduction to “My Lady Ludlow.”

  The Mr. Turner here spoken of was the Rev. William Turner, who ministered in Newcastle-on-Tyne at the Church of the Divine Unity, then in Hanover Square, from 1782 to 1841, and who in January 1793, at the age of thirty-one, founded the Literary and Philosophical Society in that town, which is, after Manchester, the oldest society of the kind in England. His portrait may be found in Mr. Welford’s “Men of Mark,” as well as in Dr. Spence Watson’s interesting history of that society. For many years he gave lectures and contributed papers on the most abstruse scientific subjects. George Stephenson freely acknowledged that a great deal of his scientific knowledge was obtained from William Turner, who died in Manchester in 1859, at the age of ninety-seven.

  “Mr, Turner,” he said, “was always ready to assist me with books, with instruments, and with counsel, gratuitously and cheerfully. He gave me the most valuable assistance and instruction; and to my dying day I can never forget the obligations which I owe to my venerable friend.” We make this extract from a funeral sermon on the Rev. William Turner by the Rev. William Gaskell, M.A., preached at Upper Brook Street Chapel, Manchester, on May i, 1859.

  Mr. Turner’s successors in Newcastle have been the Revs. Joseph M’Allister, George Harris, William Newton, James Christopher Street, Alfred Payne, and Frank Walters. It is curious that the Rev. John Turner, the grandfather of William Turner, should have been the minister at Knutsford from 1735 to 1737, and that he lies buried only a few yards from the grave of Mrs. Gaskell in the ancient Brook Street Chapel at Knutsford. Also William Turner’s father, William Turner, ministered at Allostock, only five miles from Knutsfoid, from 1737 to 1746.

  In 1832 Elizabeth Cleghorn Stevenson was married in the Knutsford parish church to the Rev. William Gaskell, the minister of Cross Street Chapel, Manchester. It was a happy marriage, and each was able to help the other very considerably. She was ready at all times to engage in works of charity and mercy, and, during the cotton famine in Manchester — for here they lived together, first in Dover Street, then in Rumford Street, and afterwards at Plymouth Grove — she showed a practical sympathy among the deserving poor, which won for her a place in their hearts. Her first known publication appeared in William Howitt’s “ Visits to Remarkable Places,” in 1840, and was a description of Clopton Hall, near Strat- ford-on-Avon.1 In 1844, while on a 1 A correspondent in the Manchester Guardian of Nov. 20, 1897, gives the following: “ What was probably Mrs. Gaskell’s first appearance in print was a poem .in Blackwood’s Magazine of January 1837. The.re is some reason to think that this was written .•in collaboration by the Rev. William Gaskell and his accomplished wife. It is in what would now be regarded as old-fashioned verse,but contains a vivid and sympathetic sketch of a poor woman living in a great town,who is always hoping for a return to the home of her childhood in the pleasant country, and always putting off the realisation of that dream in order to help the poor and the sick. When she is too old to go back, she lives in memory.”

  visit to Festiniog, Mrs. Gaskell lost her only boy Willie, who died of scarlet fever. In order to turn her thoughts from this deep grief she, at her husband’s advice, attempted to write, and her practical experience among the poor in one of the worst districts of Manchester (Ancoats) proved to be of great service in depicting in “ Mary Barton “ the hard conditions of life under which the poor lived. The work was written at this sad time and sent to a publisher in London, who returned it unread. Messrs. Chapman and Hall, after keeping it so long a time that Mrs. Gaskell says she had forgotten all about it, offered her ^ioo for the copyright, and it was published anonymously in 1848. It was exceedingly well received, and everybody asked who the writer could be, and some, we are told, discussed the question with Mrs. Gaskell ‘‘ No sense had she of change, or loss of thought, With those around her no communion sought; Scarce knew she of their being. Fancy wild Had placed her in her father’s house a child; It was her mother sang her to her rest; The lark awoke her springing from his nest; The bees sang cheerily the livelong day, Lurking ‘mid flowers wherever they did play; The Sabbath bells rang as in years gone by, Swelling and falling on the soft winds’ sigh.

  herself. It has been translated into French, German, and several other languages.

  A writer in Macmillan’s Magazine for December 1865 says: —

  “Seldom has any author attained celebrity so rapidly as Mrs. Gaskell. Like Byron,she might almost say that she awoke one morning and found herself famo
us. Of all recent literary successes ‘ Mary Barton,’ with the exception perhaps of ‘ Jane Eyre,’ was the most signal. During the period that its authorship remained a secret, there were few people, even among her own friends and neighbours, who suspected the quiet lady, whose home lay in Manchester, of having written a book of which the world was talking.’’

  When it became known that the writer was Mrs. Gaskell she received many Yes! angel voices called her childhood back, Blotting out life with its dim sorrowy track; Her secret wish was ever known in heaven, nd so in mystery was the answer given. In sadness many mourned her later years, But blessing shone behind that mist of tears; And as the child she deemed herself, she lies In gentle slumber till the dead shall rise. “

  letters of congratulation, including one from Thomas Carlyle. She believed in a higher classification of men than into rich and poor.

  “You cannot read the lot of those who daily pass you by in the street. How do you know the wild romances of their lives, the trials, the temptations they are even now enduring, resisting, sinking under? You may be elbowed one instant by a girl desperate in her abandonment, laughing in mad merriment with her outward gesture, while her soul is longing for the rest of the dead, and bringing itself to think of the cold flowing river as the only mercy of God remaining to her here. You may pass the criminal meditating crimes at which you will to-morrow shudder with horror as you read them. You may push against one, humble and unnoticed, the last upon earth who in heaven will for ever be in the immediate light of God’s countenance. Errands of mercy — errands of sin — did you ever think where all the thousands of people you daily meet are bound? “

  It was the striking contrast between the lives ot ease and luxury of the manufacturers, and the extreme poverty of the men, which compelled her to write so strongly what she felt.

  “Large houses are still occupied, while spinners’ and weavers’ cottages stand empty because the families that once filled them are obliged to live in rooms or cellars. Carriages still roll along the streets, concerts are still crowded by subscribers, the shops for expensive luxuries still find daily customers, while the workman loiters away his unemployed time in watching these things and thinking of the pale, uncomplaining wife at home, and the wailing children asking in vain for enough of food — of the sinking health, of the dying life of those near and dear to him. The contrast is too great. Why should he alone suffer from bad times?”

  Hers was not a one-sided view, as some have maintained. She drew faithful characters, the types of both good and bad workmen — and manufacturers. The contrast between the proud, domineering, insolent young Mr. Carson, of “ Mary Barton,” and the thoughtful, consistent, and honest Mr. Thornton of “ North and South” will be apparent to the reader. Great power is shown in this first novel, “ Mary Barton.” What a realistic picture we have of the mill on fire! We can see the ghastly faces of the two men as the fire begins to surround them; we can hear the crackle, and almost unconsciously sit back in our chair as we read for very fear of being scorched. And again, towards the end of the book, we can almost hear the splash of the oars which carries the frail boat all too slowly out to sea; we can almost see the “ gloomy, leaden sky, the cold, flat, yellow shore in the distance; “ we can almost feel “ the nipping, cutting wind; “ but the lights of the John Cropper flash, the news of the trial is shouted out to the only witness, and Mary’s lover is saved.

  The Prospective Review of 1849 says of “Mary Barton”: —

  “It is a charming book; after every deduction, rich in wisdom and truth. It shows us what a deep poetry may be lying hid under the outward meanness and triviality of humble life; what strong and pure affections, what heroism and disinterestedness, what high faith in God and immortality under all the sorrow and trial of a hard world may be nursed in the homes of poor and unpolished men. We rise from its pages with a deeper interest in all our fellow-beings; with a firmer trust in their great and glorious destiny; and with a strengthened desire to co-operate with its gifted authoress, and with all of kindred spirit, in every effort to ennoble and bless them.”

  From the “ Reminiscences of Henry Crabb Robinson” we quote the following: —

  “Sunday night, Oct. 14, 1849.

  “Froude has been here this summer (at the Lakes). He was lodged, as I was informed — for I did not see him — at a farmhouse at or near Skelwith Bridge.”

  “Mrs. Gaskell, the author of ‘ Mary Barton,’ was also for some weeks in that neighbourhood, and I got Mr. Wordsworth to meet her and her husband (a Unitarian minister at Manchester). She is a very pleasing, interesting person.”

  After the publication of “ Mary Barton “ she made many friends on her visits to London, amongst whom were Charles Dickens, Lord Houghton, Mrs. Beecher Stowe, Ruskin, and Florence Nightingale; and at Oxford she became known to Professor Jowett and Mr. (afterwards Dean) Stanley. In 1850 she wrote “ Lizzie Leigh” and “ The Moorland Cottage,”

  and in 1853 these were followed by “Ruth” and’ “Cranford.” “Ruth” is an extremely well-written story. In this and in “ Lizzie Leigh “ we have everyday characters. Here we see two otherwise beautiful characters marred by ‘an early blemish, which hung as a pall over their lives, truly more sinned against than sinning, yet always afterwards, as if in some measure to atone for a former sin, giving up their lives to works of love and service.

  When “ Mary Barton “ came out it was remarked by some that the writer had no humour, but this idea was soon dispelled upon the publication of “ Cranford.” It abounds from beginning to end in droll, dry humour, and sparkles with wit. It has been described as “the purest piece of humoristic description which has been added to British literature since Charles Lamb.” We will, just in passing, point to one or two of its quaintnesses.

  “When Mrs. Forrester, for instance, gave a party in her baby-house of a dwelling, and the little maiden disturbed the ladies on the sofa by a request that she might get the tea-tray out from, underneath, every one took this novel proceed

  ing as the most natural thing in the world, and talked on about household forms and ceremonies as if we all believed that our hostess had a regular servants’ hall, second table, with housekeeper and steward, instead of the one little charity-school maiden, whose short ruddy arms could never have been strong enough to carry the tray upstairs if she had not been assisted in private by her mistress, who now sat in state, pretending not to know what cakes were sent up, though she knew, and we knew, and she knew that we knew, and we knew that she knew that we knew, she had been busy all morning making tea-bread and sponge-cakes.” And again, “ Miss Jessie sang ‘ Jock o’ Hazledean’ a little out of tune; but we were none of us musical, though Miss Jenkins beat time, out of time, by way of appearing to be so.”

  The petty deceptions, so well hit off, are extremely amusing. One more quotation must suffice, and this as showing how elegant economy was practised. “The greatest event was that the Miss Jenkinses had purchased a new carpet for the drawing-room. Oh, the busy work Miss Matty and I had in chasing the sunbeams as they fell in an afternoqn right down on this carpet through the blindless window! We spread newspapers over the places, and sat down to our book or our work; and lo! in a quarter of an hour the sun had moved and was blazing away on a fresh spot, and down again we went on our knees to alter the position of the newspapers.”

  Mr. Axon remarks: “ There is a curious typographical error in various editions of “ Cranford.” That delightful story appeared piecemeal in Household Words, and in the number for May 7, 1853, occurs the description of a pudding originally “ made in most wonderful representation of a lion couchant that ever was moulded,” and served up a second day — ” a little of the cold lion sliced and fried.” But in the reprinted form lion has been turned into loin. Through how many editions this error has run is not known, but the circumstance was pointed out in the Nation (February 1892).

  “North and South “ was published in 1855, and all through 1856 Mrs. Gaskell was employed i
n collecting and working up the scattered fragments of the “Life of Charlotte Bronte.” When the first edition of the “ Life of Charlotte Bronte “ appeared in 1857, certain assertions which had been made on the faith of statements made by Branwell to his sister were challenged, and the result was a retraction and the withdrawal of the unsold copies from circulation. This has made the first edition a rare book. In this unpleasant experience Mrs. Gaskell’s attitude was absolutely blameless.

  In “ North and South” her truth ol portraiture as shown in the characters of Margaret, Nicholas Higgins, and Mr. Thornton is especially worthy of note. This story, almost as much as “ Mary Barton,” shows Mrs. Gaskell’s knowledge of the conditions of the poor, and the way in which her ready sympathy was shown. Observe how well the contrast is pointed and maintained between the characters of Edith Shaw, afterwards Mrs. Lennox, and Margaret. Again, the pith of the whole question of the relations which should exist between employers and employed was spoken by Mr. Thornton in a few brief sentences. “ I have arrived at the conviction that no mere institutions, however wise, and however much thought may have been required to organise and arrange them, can attach class to class as they should be attached, unless the working out of such institutions bring the individuals of the different classes into actual personal contact. Such intercourse is the very breath of life. We should understand each other better, and I’ll venture to say we should like each other more.” Mrs. Gaskell had made the acquaintance of Charlotte Bronte at the Lakes in 1850, and a great attachment had sprung up between the two writers. She spent a fortnight in Brussels in careful investigations into the early school-life of Miss Bronte in that city. In 1863 she wrote “ A Dark Night’s Work” and also “Sylvia’s Lovers.”

 

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