Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Week 11, Elizabeth Gaskell

Notes on Elizabeth Gaskell's Cranford

1. Our Society

The narrator (later named as Mary Smith) says that Cranford is in possession of the Amazons. It might appear, then, that men are generally insignificant and inconvenient in Cranford society, to some extent times that seems to be the case. But it would also perhaps be an overstatement since the novel's male characters at times play meaningful roles, though they never overshadow the "spinsters" and widows who are the mainstays of the genteel town. Captain Brown appears on the scene in this first chapter, for instance, and seems to have a positive effect on Cranford, advising Miss Betty Barker to clothe her injured cow in a flannel waistcoat, which she promptly does. He seems to be a very decent fellow, even if (much to Miss Deborah Jenkyns' consternation) he prefers Dickens' novels to the neoclassical, moralistic poetry of Dr. Johnson.

From the outset, the narrator describes Cranford as a town whose residents are concerned to keep up aristocratic appearances even as they mostly keep money worries off limits for discussion. This is not so much a matter of dishonesty as of polite discretion amongst a group of fairly closely knit women of property and good birth, but few of whom have much by way of "liquid assets." One gets that sense of a genuine community that is structured along intra-class lines and that doesn't turn entirely, or even mainly, around financial matters. This is Cranford, not the big industrial town of Drumble, to which the narrator moves with her father not long after the events she describes in the first chapter—specifically after the literary disagreement between Captain Brown and Miss (Deborah) Jenkyns.

2. The Captain

Captain Brown's eldest daughter is quite ill, which means that he and the youngest daughter Jessie must play the role of caretaker. Miss Deborah Jenkyns, Captain Brown's literary opponent, is quite the eighteenth-century-style upholder of propriety and social decorum, but this doesn't seem to trouble the Captain in the least.

The narrator returns to Cranford for a summer visit, and finds that nothing has changed. That is apt because, in a sense, Cranford is a novella about nothing—even when things happen, it almost seems as if nothing much has happened after all. The narrator tells us that she has noticed how "fragments and small opportunities" have long been attended to in Cranford: things that others would pay no mind elsewhere are attended to here, and everything turns upon the twin concerns of understated economy and genteel manners and connections.

Well, in this chapter, a few dramatic things do in fact occur: Captain Brown's eldest daughter grows ever more ill of some wasting illness, and we are treated to an idyllic portrait of patient care-giving on the part of the Captain and Jessie Brown. (He is evidently of the heroic stamp, having saved the life of one Captain Mauleverer years ago.) But apparently Gaskell has made enough use of Captain Brown, and he is suddenly killed off in a properly Dickensian fashion: while reading a serial edition of The Pickwick Papers, the good Captain is killed by a train when he rushes in to save an unwary child from the same fate. The ladies have to lie to the dying Miss Brown, and she goes to her maker not knowing of her father's tragic fate. It would appear that the women of Cranford were right to resist the coming of the railroads to their town. But we notice that while they have resisted change from a modernizing outside world, they respond well to the burdens placed upon them by the tribulations of the Captain and his family. Miss Jessie Brown receives a a gentleman caller named Captain Gordon, who has come into an estate in Scotland. Deborah is enough of a practical woman to see that this is a fine development, and it culminates in Jessie's marriage to the man. The years pass, and Miss Deborah Jenkyns passes away in old age, leaving behind her beloved sister Matilda or "Matty."

3. A Love Affair of Long Ago

The narrator didn't think she would keep up such close contact with Cranford now that she is a denizen of Drumble; she had thought Cranford would become a faded memory (like dried flowers compared to the real thing). But things don't turn out that way, and she stays in touch with the yarn-spinner Miss Pole and the rather "inert" social gatekeeper Mrs. Jamieson. On page 24, we hear that there's always been a problem with the maids (such as Jenny) mixing too easily with Cranford's numerous handsome young fellows below the ranks of the gentility. Miss Deborah Jenkyns had been the enforcer of Cranford's social rules, while Matty is much more confused about such things and doesn't seem to know quite what to do now that her sister is gone. She is flustered when Capain Gordon sends word that he would like to visit from the East. How should Matty prepare the home for the coming of this member of the male persuasion?

At last the chapter brings us to the matter of its title: the love affair proper: Thomas Holbrook (a cousin of Miss Pole, apparently) wasn't a very ambitious man and cared little for the title of Esquire. The narrator says that he didn't care for refinements not rooted "deep down in humanity" (29). When this odd individual proposed to Matty long ago, sister Deborah and their father the Rector thought him an insufficient match for Matty. Now, decades later, they meet by accident in a shop, but only in the next chapter will anything come of it.

4. A Visit to an Old Bachelor

This chapter continues the story of Matty and Mr. Holbrook. But before it gets to that, there's much commentary about Miss Matty's being "at sea" about the subject of men generally—an expansive patch characteristic of Gaskell's style in the novel. Mr. Holbrook is rather uncouth in his manners—he eats with a knife and reads poets such as Byron and Goethe, whose names he mispronounces. Perhaps he is a bit off-putting and eccentric, and he startles the narrator with his romantic-poet-style imperious demand if she knows the color of ash-buds in March. But on the whole, he is a good sort of person. Matty was frustrated at not being able to marry him long ago. Now he decides to go to Paris, which proves too much for his frail health, and he dies. Matty seems almost like a mourning widow for a time, and afterwards, says the narrator, she always betrayed a "tremulous motion of head and hands" (39). At the chapter's end, Matty softens regarding Martha's interest in suitors, and says the maid might as well invite a gentlemen—which she promptly does, in the person of Jem Hearn, a joiner.

5. Old Letters

This chapter begins with a recounting of people's foolish obsessions about little things. Never mind "don't sweat the small stuff"—people in Cranford always sweat the small stuff, such as leaves of paper one mustn't waste, or candlelight one mustn't overuse, which is Matty's obsession. (The narrator's is collecting string.) Matty decides to look over her family letters, including love letters between her parents from before their wedding in July 1774, when the Rector was 27 and her mother a young woman of eighteen with a fancy for fine clothing. Why does Matty want to go through these old letters? On page 44, she suggests that nobody will care for the old letters properly, or really appreciate them, when Matty is gone. It is time to look them over one last time and then commit them to the flames, thereby sparing them the fate of becoming merely "dead letters." The letters themselves are varied—the mother's upbeat aspirations for her children, the Rector's stern sermon, and Deborah's edifying formal productions (of which last-mentioned the narrator soon tires). Some of the letters take us back to 1805's fears about the Bonapartist French, and we hear that Peter Jenkyns, the girls' brother, was a joker and a ne'er-do-well.

6. Poor Peter

One of the tales we hear in the letters is the story of Matty and Deborah's brother, Peter. It seems that the young man (who was more sympatico with Matty than with the erudite, proper Deborah) enjoyed playing jokes on the women of Cranford. Once he dressed up as Deborah and pretended a pillow was a baby. Flogged by the Rector, he ran away after saying goodbye to his mother. Both parents showed a great deal of regret afterwards, even dragging the local pond out of fear that he might have committed suicide or drowned. Peter went off to Liverpool, and the Captain of a ship wrote to the parents. But before they made it to Liverpool, the ship had sailed off to the Mediterranean and thence to India. Mother never really recovered from the shock of this episode, and died some months later. Deborah consequently vowed never to marry, determined to tend to her father, while Matty decided to do everything she could to facilitate this bond between them. That was to be her role in life. Peter came home once for a visit, now a military man who apparently served in the First Burmese War of 1824-26, but after that nothing was heard from him and the family supposed he was dead. The Rector is an interesting male authority figure—he is at first rather a stern figure, but the loss of Peter saddens and softens him. The chapter has taught us much about Matty, Deborah, and their family history.

7. Visiting

Miss Betty Barker invites everyone to her home, and things go well. The Barker family owned a profitable shop, and now she is retired, one of the finer dressers in this provincial town. Mrs. Jamieson will attend, as will Mrs. Forrester and others, but not Mrs. Mary Fitz-Adam, the widowed sister of Cranford's surgeon, Mr. Hoggins. Mrs. Fitz-Adam has bought a house thought to confer a patent of gentility (63), but Mrs. Jamieson studiously ignores her as beneath her station. When Miss Deborah Jenkyns passed away, the strict code of gentility was no longer understood or maintained so clearly as it had been when Deborah was "in charge" of such matters. Miss Barker serves dinner, which is rather unusual (and a bit of an affront) in this town where so much understated economy is practiced. Mrs. Jamieson says that her sister-in-law Lady Glenmire is coming to visit, which is an exciting development for the women.

8. "Your Ladyship "

At first Mrs. Jamieson snubs the other ladies, but in due time she changes her mind and decides that they may indeed visit Lady Glenmire. Like Chapter 7, this chapter is mostly about about manners, gentility, rank. The women concern themselves with protocol in preparing to visit Lady Glenmire, who manages to ingratiate herself with them by requesting additional servings of the originally sparse tea and sugar. The Lady isn't wealthy, and her husband never sat in the Scottish parliament, but her title is strikingly important here in Cranford. Mrs. Forrester tells a comical anecdote about how she recovered some fine lacework from her cat, who had swallowed it and only coughed it up after receiving a dose of currant jelly. Lace was expensive stuff, and not something to be given up for lost easily. We may wonder about the propriety of telling Lady Glenmire such a story, but that's no deterrence with Mrs. Forrester, and the story seems to go over well.

Mrs. Jamieson's pretentious, indolent butler is another noteworthy character in this chapter—ensconced in his considerable comfort and self-regard, he rather intimidates the ladies, who are by no means as warlike as the narrator's initial description of them as Amazons suggested.

9. Signor Brunoni

The narrator returns to Drumble to tend to her sick father. Matty writes her late in the year, apparently excited about the coming of one Signor Brunoni, a conjurer. This expectation gives the narrator a chance to talk about the ladies' general credulity. Miss Pole, however, is quite sure she knows all about conjuration, and reads an encyclopedia explanation of it. The Rector Hayter is among those present at the visitor's performance—the Rector is a shy man who seems almost afraid of the women. The narrator suspects that Miss Pole pursued him upon his arrival in Cranford, but evidently nothing came of it.

10. The Panic

This chapter mostly concerns wild stories about robbers and ghosts—a panic that has ensued from the appearance in town of the strange Signor Brunoni. At the chapter's end, the women must make their way through a dark patch of land around Cranford, which is daunting for them given the state they are in. But nothing much has really happened, either to Mr. Hoggins (whom everyone thinks was robbed) or to anyone else. They aren't in danger, and some men conveniently show up to help carry Matty along the road.

11. Samuel Brown

"Signor Brunoni's" real name is Samuel Brown, as it turns out, and the women have gotten over their superstitions from the previous chapter. Mr. Brown had been a soldier in India, and we hear from his wife the story of how she marched to Calcutta seeking safety, having lost six young children to illness in India. For once, we come across suffering that is scarcely softened by the narrative style: Mrs. Brown's story is full of danger and sadness. The other event is that Matty Jenkyns refuses to denounce marriage, as Miss Pole does. Part of this chapter is about the relative merits of childbirth and marriage.

12. Engaged to be Married

Lady Glenmire is going to marry Mr. Hoggins, which is somewhat scandalous because of her rank. She has been the best liked amongst the ladies. Will she now drop her title? The narrator wants to know if the "Aga Jenkyns" Mrs. Brown told her about is in fact Peter, her long-lost brother.

13. Stopped Payment

Matty's Town and County bank (a joint stock outfit that depends on the combined assets of the shareholders) is going broke, and she will have only about five shillings a week to live on. A shilling or "bob" is 1/20 th of a pound—not much when we consider that she has lost about 150 pounds in annual income from the bank. But Matty doesn't show her anxiety until the chapter's end. She exchanges five pounds for farmer Dobson's bad note in a shop, and shows remarkable generosity and selflessness. The narrator plans to get the other ladies to contribute to Matty's upkeep on the sly. Money worries often bring out the worst in people, but Matty reveals her genuinely stoical English quality here, which may be somewhat surprising given her superstitious and occasionally odd behavior earlier in the novel.

14. Friends in Need

Martha refuses to abandon Miss Matty, and the narrators reflect on what Matty can do to earn a living. Teaching is out since there isn't much by way of practical skills she has to teach the new generation; all she has is patience, humility, sweetness, and a firm understanding of her limitations (132). But selling tea sounds promising. Soon, Martha announces her impending marriage to Jem Hearn, who comically complains about the suddeness of it all, but goes along. The narrator gets others together to see what they can contribute to Matty's upkeep. Mrs. Forrester can only afford a little, but Mrs. Fitz-Adam privately tells the narrator that she can contribute quite a lot. The narrator's father helps out in his rather imposing way, settling Matty's affairs as well as they can be settled at this point. Meanwhile, Mrs. Jamieson is upset that Lady Glenmire is marrying such a commoner as Hoggins.

15. A Happy Return

Lady Glenmire returns to Cranford as Mrs. Hoggins, and seems inexcusably happy at the change. Matty is doing very well selling tea, and the arrangement with Martha and Jem is working out fine. Martha has a daughter whom she names "Matilda." So by proxy this birth gives Matty the daughter she herself never had. But the big "return" here is that of Peter from India. He has enough to live on comfortably, and is able to resolve Matty's financial troubles. The implied contrast throughout the novel has been between the ways of Drumble and the modern world as opposed to the gentility and generosity of Cranford, where money, when it's to be had at all, mainly serves to unite people rather than isolate them. This chapter certainly ratifies that contrast, though we shouldn't overstate it—the narrator's father is, after all, a sharp man of business, but he is isn't a capitalist villain or misguided utilitarian ideologue straight out of Dickens. The Gordons will be returning to Cranford as well, so it looks as if all will turn out well, with everyone comfortable and happy again.

16. Peace to Cranford

The Gordons return, and Peter deftly re-establishes friendly relations between Mrs. Jamieson and Lady Glenmire. There is some minor anxiety that perhaps he is striking up a romance with the widow Mrs. Jamieson, but that turns out to be nonsense. The novel ends with the notion that Matty has always been the genius loci of Cranford, someone everyone wants to be around. The characters' concerns about their genteel lineage seldom, if ever, get the better of the generous, genial spirit that reigns in this novel. Rank makes a difference, but community more so, and the final chapter promises continuity in this restored state of normalcy for Cranford.