Shirley, Chapters XVIII-XXIV

Dear Amber,

At long last, I’m revisiting Shirley again!

You’ve summed up those less exciting middle chapters (XV-XXI) nicely, so I won’t go into those too much. I have two points: first, “Which the Genteel Reader is Recommended to Skip, Low Persons Being Here Introduced” is a such a great name for a chapter. I don’t really associate Charlotte Bronte with humor, but there’s a sly wit about chapter titles like that one, and as we will later encounter, “Wherein Matters make some Progress, but not much.”

Second, Charlotte’s description of Caroline’s despair in chapter XX is almost painful in its accuracy. It immediately brings to mind those dark times in my own life when I felt exactly that way. And as much of Shirley does, it reminded me of Charlotte’s own life, and what she must have been going through when she was writing this part of the book. According to the timeline in my book, Charlotte finished the first volume of Shirley – chapters I-XI – in September 1848. Branwell Bronte died Sept. 24, 1848, and of course, Emily followed just a few months later. Charlotte went back to her writing after Emily’s death, but of course, Anne became ill and died in May of 1849. According to “The Life of Charlotte Bronte,” Charlotte picked up with chapter XXV after Anne’s death.

I can’t read the middle section of this book, especially the chapters dealing with Caroline’s long illness, without thinking of Charlotte and her siblings. How many nights did Charlotte sit up with a sick sister, like Mrs. Pryor did with Caroline? I’m reminded, too, of how Charlotte became the “woman of the family” after losing two older sisters, her mother, and her Aunt Branwell. Like Caroline, she must have longed for a mother – someone to comfort her through all the tragedies and heartbreaks she endured. Caroline’s prayer is granted, and she pulls through because she has her mother at her side at long last. Charlotte, however, must soldier on alone, having given her literary doppelganger the happiness she could never have.

But I’m getting ahead of myself a bit. There’s an interesting part in chapter XXII I’d like to touch on.

As I mentioned before, I’ve read that Shirley Keeldar is an idealized version of Emily Bronte. And in chapter XXII, Charlotte describes Shirley in more detail than we’ve had before. We learn that Shirley is restless. Sitting and sewing quietly are practically impossible for her; she greatly prefers visiting the animals on her estate and talking to her foreman, John. Shirley enjoys reading, but again, sitting still is not her forte. Instead, she lies on the rug, like a child, with her dog beside her. She is imaginative and keenly appreciative of beauty, but Charlotte makes a point of noting that Shirley does nothing with this gift of seeing all that is good and wonderful in the world. She writes:

“If Shirley were not an indolent, a reckless, an ignorant being, she would take a pen at such moments; or at least while the recollection of such moments was yet fresh on her spirit: she would seize, she would fix the apparition, tell the vision revealed. Had she a little more of the organ of Acquisitiveness in her head – a little more of the love of property in her nature, she would take a good-sized sheet of paper and write plainly out, in her own queer but clear and legible hand, the story that has been narrated, the song that has been sung to her, and thus possess what she was enabled to create. But indolent she is, reckless she is, and most ignorant, for she does not know her dreams are rare – her feelings peculiar: she does not know, has never known, and will die without knowing, the full value of that spring whose bright fresh bubbling in her heart keeps it green.”

So if the Bronte sisters had been better off in health and wealth, would we not have Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, Agnes Grey, and our Shirley? Charlotte seems to be saying that Shirley’s leisure makes it unnecessary for her to pursue her inborn gift of creativity, while the Bronte sisters turn to writing for a living only when the other avenues open to them fail to be fruitful. If Shirley, the idealized Emily, is not inspired to write, does this mean Charlotte believes that in better circumstances, Emily’s genius would have gone untapped as well?

And yet, writing was in the Brontes’ blood, as evidenced by the thick volume of juvenilia currently residing on my bookshelf. Before it became a means of making a living, writing was an engaging pastime for the young Brontes. Was it because they grew up poor in Haworth Parsonage? Does Charlotte believe that poverty nourishes genius and talent better than wealth?

 I’m getting long-winded again, so I’ll leave off here for now.

Yours sincerely,

Mary Beth

Shirley, Chapters X-XIV

Dear Mary Beth,

I, too, love to hear other people's interpretations of and ideas about a story, and that's why I love this project and why I've always loved literature classes. Books are always better when read and discussed with others. There are so many facets of meaning that one reading--or even one person doing multiple readings--will never reveal them all. Like you, I often read through a feminist lens, though I often have an eye for gender issues in general and class struggles as well. I enjoy discussing literature with you because of our similar reading perspectives, but our differences make it interesting as well.

This section of "Shirley" is, I believe, the critical part of the novel, the events that shape the rest of it. The novel prior to this part is all set-up and after is all Caroline's reaction and development as a result (although I obviously haven't finished yet--so this is part theory). It all starts with Mr. Helstone and Mr. Moore having  a political disagreement, prompting Helstone to forbid Caroline from visiting, seeing, writing to, or interacting with her cousins. Caroline is devastated, although she doesn't show it. She's in love with Mr. Moore and enjoyed learning under Hortense's instruction. Now, Caroline begins to question her very existence: "What was I created for, I wonder? Where is my place in the world?" Shortly thereafter, Caroline meets several women, who I like to refer to as "potential future Carolines."

(Before I get into these women, I'd like to point out that Mr. Helstone is completely oblivious to Caroline's unhappiness and doesn't want to be bothered by it. Caroline asks him if she can look for a position as a governess, explaining that she needs some purpose to her life, but he quickly dismisses her wish, telling her to "run away and amuse [herself]." Poor Caroline. I can see how this character could have been modeled after one of the Bronte sisters.)

The first woman is Miss Ainley, an old maid that Caroline is acquainted with but never really paid much attention to (much like everyone else). Caroline pays Miss Ainley a charity visit but realizes that the old maid is a good, kind woman who has devoted her life to the service of others. Caroline then visits another old maid, Miss Mann, who isn't as pleasant as Miss Ainley but also isn't as bad as the men make her out to be. The narrator sums up Caroline's lesson well: "Reader! when you behold an aspect for whose constant gloom and frown you cannot account, whose unvarying cloud exasperates you by its apparent causelessness, be sure that there is a canker somewhere, and a canker not the less deeply corroding because concealed." The old maids are possible future versions of Caroline because she has decided that she will never marry if she can't marry Mr. Moore.

The next woman that Caroline meets is Shirley, along with her governess, Mrs. Pryor. Shirley has recently come of age (she's 21) and moves into the property she inherited. Mr. Helstone wants Caroline to meet Shirley, thinking it will lift her spirits. Shirley is independently wealthy and thus has no need to marry to survive. Mr. Helstone intends to provide for Caroline, even after his death, but she would never be rich like Shirley. Shirley regularly talks business with the men of the town and conducts business herself. One of the men Shirley does business regularly is her tenant, Mr. Moore, and the two take an instant liking to each other, something Caroline immediately notices. Despite a possible love triangle, Caroline and Shirley quickly become close friends. At this point, Shirley has and is everything Caroline wants.

Mrs. Pryor seems to be a significant figure, even though she's "just" a governess. She instantly likes Caroline, despite her (Mrs. Pryor's) picky nature. As a governess, Mrs. Pryor tries to talk Caroline out of the trade, citing hardships. It is known that Mrs. Pryor was married, but that she doesn't talk about her marriage and that she shares Mr. Helstone's views of the institution: foolish. Again, another "potential future Caroline." After meeting all of these women and learning about the very different lives they lead, Caroline has a lot to think about.

I don't mean to change subjects so abruptly, but this letter is getting long, and I have one more thing to discuss with you. I have noticed that Charlotte Bronte likes to do a little gender-bending in her novels. We saw it in "Jane Eyre" when Rochester dressed up as a gypsy woman and tricked his guests, including (the least-duped, however) Jane. We saw it in "Villette" when Lucy was dressed as a man for the play and flirted pretty aggressively with Ginerva. We see it now in "Shirley" as well. When Helstone and Caroline meet Shirley, she explains her name (a man's name at the time): "They gave me a man's name; I hold a man's position. It is enough to inspire me with a touch of manhood; and when I see people...before me, gravely talking to me of business, really I feel quite gentlemanlike." Helstone plays along, referring to Shirley as "he" and "him" to Mrs. Pryor and addressing Shirley as "Mr. Keeldar" and "Captain Keeldar." (In other respects, however, Shirley is pretty feminine. She's attractive and wears fancy dresses.) To the modern reader, these things would probably go unnoticed, but to the very strict and uptight Victorians, it would have been unsettling at the very least.

I'm anxious to see what effects the different women of the novel have on Caroline, although it appears that Shirley will have the greatest effect. I just hope that Caroline's lot improves soon; her low spirits are described in such detail and with such emotion that it actually taints my mood for a short time after I put the book down. I am, however, always eager to pick it back up again.

Your Friend,
Amber

Shirley, Chapters V-IX

Dear Amber,

What I love about literature and this project of ours is how two people can read the same text and end up reading two different things. I was so absorbed in the labor aspects - looking at "Shirley" through the lens of Marxist criticism, I suppose - that I completely missed the strongly feminist thread that you picked up on. (Incidentally, if I have one regret about my graduate school education, it's that I didn't take any classes in literary criticism. I did know enough to know that I usually approach things from a deeply feminist angle, which makes my sudden oblivion all the more unusual.)

I'm reminded of what must have been going on in Charlotte's life to bring out that bitterness - if I'm remembering correctly, she was writing "Shirley" at the time when the reading public was in a furor to know who Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell were, whether they were different people, or one author writing under three different names, and whether or not the authors might actually be women. Not to mention the fact that Charlotte had been told by Robert Southey, the poet whom she admired, that "Literature cannot be the business of a woman's life." Then you have three young women who are trying to bring in some kind of income when that sort of business was the responsibility of men, and the only respectable career for a young woman was to be a governess or to teach, options that didn't work out well for the Bronte sisters. It was bound to bring about frustration, and I think that's what we see in these early chapters of "Shirley."

You are absolutely right about the rich characterization we see in "Shirley," and these four chapters bring us some of the best examples. First we have Robert Moore, his sister Hortense and Caroline Helstone. I really find myself identifying with Caroline - when she's with people she's comfortable around, she opens up and isn't afraid to take Robert to task over what she perceives are his main character flaws. But when she's faced with guests for tea in "The Curates at Tea," she inwardly wishes for an evening alone (or with Robert) while putting on the best face possible. Her discomfort during the tea is obvious, but she tries to soldier on - I've been there!

As for Robert Moore, these chapters give us two sides of him - first we have the gentleman at home, entertaining his young cousin. He is revealed through Caroline's observations and his own actions to be gentle and kind, though he's firm in his opinions. But when confronting Moses Barraclough, he's stubborn to a fault. Yes, Barraclough was in the wrong and deserved to be punished, but Robert's reaction to William Farren is overly harsh. He is speaking in the heat of the moment, and as we see in the next chapter, once he's calmed down, Robert wants to do what he can for Farren, but that quick flash of temper seals Farren's negative opinion of him.

This again made me think of how relevant this story is today - that clash between laborers who need to make a living for their families and the business owners who are trying to run a successful business. The needs of the workers and the needs of the business owners are unfortunately mutually exclusive in the case of Robert Moore and William Farren and in too many circumstances today.

And I agree with you that the characterization of William Farren is exceptional - and he's not even a main character! That's the mark of a truly great author, I think - when even the most minor characters seem to live and breathe. I'm reminded again and again why I love this book!

I'm a bit behind on my reading, so I will leave it up to you to move us along to the next chapters. I'm looking forward to seeing what you think of Shirley Keeldar. (Another thing that just struck me - I remember reading somewhere that a good author introduces the main characters within the first few chapters of the book. And here we are, 10 chapters in without meeting the book's namesake! Yet I wouldn't say that anything is lacking in these chapters. Literary genius is the exception that proves the rule, I suppose!)

Yours sincerely,

Mary Beth

Shirley, Chapters I-IV

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