Dear Amber,
You'll have to forgive me, but I already feel that this letter is going to get long-winded. I made myself a cup of hot chocolate to drink while I wrote, and as I waited for the milk to heat, I just kept coming up with more and more things I wanted to write to you about.
First of all, I thought about how as much as things have changed since the mid-19th century, some things really haven't changed at all. I'm sitting at my desk, with a cup of hot chocolate, writing to a friend who lives too far away for me to see all that often. It's not hard to imagine Charlotte Bronte doing the same thing, writing to Anne and Emily while she was away teaching in Belgium, or writing to her friend Ellen Nussey from Haworth Parsonage ... the medium may have changed, but the basics are still there.
Now, I have something to confess. "Shirley" is my favorite Charlotte Bronte book. I know the expected answer is "Jane Eyre," or for those who are more scholarly, perhaps "Villette," but as you know, I've read "Shirley" before, and I fell in love with it. It seems to me that there's just more Charlotte in "Shirley." "Jane" and "Villette" and "The Professor" (which I've also been reading) have these sort of emotionally distant, first person narrators. They talk about all these terrible and wonderful things that happen to them, but yet they seem so removed from their own stories.
As I learned from reading the endnotes to my copy of "Shirley," and "The Life of Charlotte Bronte," (from now on to be abbreviated as "LOCB") the character of Shirley is essentially an idealized verson of Emily Bronte - she's Emily with health and without poverty. And Caroline Helstone is supposed to be an amalgam of Charlotte herself and her friend Ellen Nussey. Plus, "LOCB" contains such a heartbreaking account of how "Shirley" was written, and as I'm reading, I always have this picture in my head of Charlotte and the things that were going on in her life and her sitting at her desk writing. She just seems so much more real to me as I read "Shirley." (This is a topic that I will definitely be revisiting in later letters.)
(By the way, what is your opinion of endnotes and how do you use them? I love endnotes, but I can't flip back and forth to them while I'm in the middle of a chapter. What I usually do is read the chapter, then read all the endnotes for that chapter, then go back to the next chapter. When I read "LOCB," I actually had two bookmarks in use. One marked my place in the book, the other marked my place in the endnotes.)
(See, I told you I was going to be long-winded! I haven't even gotten to the book yet!)
OK. So on to the first few chapters.
Isn't it strange how in Victorian literature there are so many non-religious clergymen? (Of course, as soon as I started thinking about it, I could only think of the ones who really were religious and sincere about their calling: St. John Rivers, Edmund Bertram, Edward Ferrars ...) Now, I know it was a fact of life for men in Victorian England - the eldest son inherits, the second son belongs to the Church, and the third son goes to the Army. (In melodramatic fashion, I once imagined my life had I been living in a Jane Austen novel. Poor Mrs. W. would likely have been an invalid, and if she hadn't died of infectious fever when she was young, and she would have five children: James would inherit the estate, John would take orders and become a clergyman, and Albert would have to join the army. Or the navy, if he preferred. As for Mary and Elizabeth, she'd have to find them good husbands, perhaps a young man with 5,000 a year or so.)
Anyway, the three curates we meet in chapter I are not the sort of men I think I'd want tending to the hearts and minds of the poor country folk. I can't imagine them comforting a poor widow who'd just lost her husband, though I bet they'd know exactly which chapter and verse in the Bible instructs them to do so. I've known people like them - people who can debate a single arbitrary point for hours but miss the big picture. According to my endnotes, Charlotte Bronte modeled them after some of the curates who worked with her father, and again, my mind goes back those mid-19th century days. I can just imagine some of the people who knew Charlotte reading "Shirley" and being either amused or scandalized by her portrayal of these men, who were apparently easily identifiable.
I like Mr. Helstone, though, for all he's gruff and in the wrong profession and completely clueless when it comes to caring for Caroline. My endnotes say that he's partially based on Charlotte's father, Patrick.
The next few chapters reminded me how very relevant literature remains, no matter how much time has passed. In the early part of the 19th century, Luddites feared losing their jobs and being improved out of existence, so they broke Moore's new equipment. Nowadays, Moore would just move his factory to Mexico or India, where he'd be able to hire cheaper labor.
Which brings me to something that struck me in this reading of "Shirley" - it's unusual that Charlotte has chosen to tell her story from the point of view of those who are well off. In "Jane Eyre," "The Professor" and "Villette," the protagonist is impoverished - even penniless - and has to figure out how to make their way. Though it's stated that Robert Moore is not wealthy, he's clearly on his way to becoming wealthy. And his reaction to the destruction of his frames is ... underwhelming. He's annoyed, yes, and vows to bring the perpetrators to justice, but he takes it all in so calmly. He's even able to be amused at the animosity between Mr. Yorke (was there ever a character so thoroughly described?) and Mr. Helstone. Robert Moore is definitely a very focused businessman. He's faced with a setback, yes, but he takes it in stride and continues with his plan to move forward and to grow his business, whether the Luddites like it or not.
In this day and age, would Robert Moore be an admirable character? Because I like him. But wouldn't he be considered one of those "Big Business" guys today? Like I said before, in modern times, he'd probably have no qualms about picking up his operation and moving it to Mexico if it meant cheaper labor and more profits. Though maybe he'd be someone like Steve Jobs, always looking for the next innovation and forcing his employees to think not necessarily bigger, but better and smarter. I don't think Robert Moore would be an easy man to work for, but I respect him.
I feel like I've been writing and writing and writing and barely saying anything about these first few chapters. But what sticks out for me in reading "Shirley" are the characters and the people behind the characters - Charlotte and her family. These characters just seem so much like real people to me - much more so than the characters in Charlotte's other books.
So what did you think? Would you want to work for Robert Moore? Do you feel like you'd want to punch the good Mr. Malone, or is he just not worth the effort? And I can't remember, are there any Belgians in "Jane Eyre"? It's interesting how deeply that period in Brussels influenced Charlotte.
Yours sincerely (that sounds so Victorian, doesn't it?),
Mary Beth
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