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Elizabeth GaskellA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Gaskell’s fiction repeatedly brings working-class characters to life for a predominantly middle-class readership, countering the stereotypes that she feared her readers held about their poorer neighbors. As a narrator, Hester seems to focus her story on the titled Furnivall family and the ghosts that haunt them. However, readers learn in the first few sentences that when she was younger she stood out in the village school as a “steady, honest girl, and one whose parents were very respectable, though they might be poor” (1). Beyond embodying the middle-class virtues of honesty and hard work herself, Hester comes from a family that has maintained their respectability despite poverty. For Gaskell, poverty never equates with moral failure, although fiction and social commentary at the time often made that equation. Instead, even when some of her economically disadvantaged characters reveal ethical failings, most of them also embody virtues that her readers across the social strata would admire.
Hester is somewhat unusual in Gaskell’s corpus because she inhabits a rural setting rather than an urban one; this is probably to align with the traditional folkloric pattern of the rural narrator and setting for ghost stories. Throughout novels like Mary Barton and North and South, Gaskell’s characters include factory laborers, domestic servants, seamstresses, and other working poor people whom Gaskell herself had come into close contact with in Manchester. Her attention to characters’ actions and aptitudes deepens her readers’ sense of their humanity. The group of Furnivall Manor servants, whom the story treats as real people, reflects the comfort and stability of rural domesticity, and portrays the reality of life in a large country house at the time, populated mostly by servants. Arguably this characterization is typical of Gaskell’s subtle subversion of literary and social structures: In making the servants more rounded characters than their employers, she overturns the expectation that servants are mere functionaries—in life and in narratives—and that moral superiority is allied to social superiority.
Hester exemplifies these virtues. The youthful Hester’s ability to embody a strong sense of rationality—as when she initially scolds a “naughty” Rosamond for “telling tales” of the specter child in the snow—speaks to both her intelligence and respectability; she can be trusted to come to thoughtful conclusions. Likewise, her choice to go to church as the only holiday we see her taking from her work testifies both to her sense of Christian duty and her work ethic. More than once, Hester remarks on her own courage in the face of eerie circumstances, and then she shows her readers how her bravery influenced her actions. Rather than becoming prematurely emotional, she develops the rational explanation for the night-time music that it must have been Miss Grace playing. Only when she discovers that the workings of the organ are destroyed beyond function does her “flesh [begin] to creep a little” (14). Hester’s previous ability to enjoy the organ and to find a certain companionship in the music indicates her emotional sensibility and a form of artistic taste. In short, Hester repeatedly models moral character even under constraints that would be unfamiliar to her middle-class readers, and she does so with a sense of pride in her working-class, Northumberland heritage.
With the early sketch of Rosamond’s young mother, Gaskell points to an ideal notion of Victorian femininity that she knew well. Most of her work, including “The Old Nurse’s Story,” critiques that rigid ideal of femininity to offer a more realistic and nuanced consideration of female roles and virtues.
Though Rosamond’s mother dies before the end of the first paragraph, she clearly embodies the ideal femininity that Victorian women were urged to embody by fiction, poetry, visual art, and conduct manuals. This widespread “domestic ideology” rested on the assumption that men would inhabit the public sphere, and women would manage homes and stay in private life to support them. The “pretty young lady” fittingly blushes when she is obliged to euphemistically reference her pregnancy in the schoolroom (1). Though “Miss Furnivall […] [is] a granddaughter of Lord Furnivall’s” (1), the nurse’s young mistress has married a poor clergyman. This was a very respectable marital choice for a young lady with no personal fortune and the young curate’s wife embodies the model of the virtuous, genteel, yet humble woman. As the curate’s wife, she takes her place in the village, but stays at home with her child, fulfilling the female role, while her husband travels for parish duties. She can afford to hire a young nursemaid, but her maternal love prompts her to take on most of the care for the child, only “trusting” the baby to Hester occasionally. When her husband dies of a fever, the result of his diligence, she even follows him in death, the archetype of wifely duty and love. The narrative withholds this woman’s first name before she dies and drops out of the narrative, the opening paragraph testifies to her exemplary virtues of affection, modesty, charity, responsibility, religious faith, maternal devotion, and fidelity to her husband.
As a servant, Hester at first seems to be outside this ideal of middle-class female virtue, but Gaskell demonstrates throughout the tale that working women can also share in all the generous domestic virtues of their more privileged female counterparts. Hester and her new friend Dorothy embody those female character traits as consistently as Rosamond’s dead, middle-class mother, even if they do not share her class status or enjoy her relative economic security. While they live together at the manor, they care for Rosamond with genuine affection, relate to each other with honesty, respect, and trust, and work diligently to keep the dilapidated house running with as much warmth and hospitality as their circumstances allow. They certainly reveal those virtues more consistently than do the upper-class women of Furnivall Manor, either the elderly women of the narrative present or the two jealous and conniving sisters of the ghostly narrative. The story makes this juxtaposition clear when, as the strange dangers of Furnivall Manor become more apparent to Hester, she hopes to accomplish the practical solution of traveling to her father’s house “where, if we lived humbly, we lived at peace” (35). It is the legal claim of the absent Lord Furnivall that prevents her from offering the wholesome protection of her own family to Rosamond.
Gaskell’s ghost story both participates in and subverts many of the tropes associated with gothic fiction—a mode of storytelling that frequently places vulnerable and innocent young women in unfamiliar settings in which they are endangered by some ghostly or monstrous presence that may involve elements of sexual risk as much as of mortal danger. Gaskell’s innovation is to locate her remote and alien setting within England itself and to suggest that the greatest danger comes not from female sexual license but from the brutality of patriarchal control.
Rather than create gothic strangeness by setting her tale in southern or central Europe as many writers did, Gaskell draws on the often-unfamiliar ruggedness of Northumberland to draw a sense of foreboding from the natural landscape and the built environment. While Hester seems to take pride in her Westmoreland roots, the older nurse of the frame narrative clearly understands that the region would be unfamiliar to her audience in the south. Even Hester readily admits that the remoteness of the house from any town or village unsettles her. As they arrive, she is struck by the sounds of running water through streams and the prominence of rocks in the landscape, and of course, in that remote environment, ghostly music sounds through the house, and a spectral child appears eerily in the snow, demanding to be let in. Imagery of nature and of haunting intertwine to suggest an environment far removed from the settled domesticity of London—one in which the ordinary rules of social life may be suspended, for better or worse.
Some of the characters also suggest a ruggedness that might be more threatening than southern readers would find comfortable. For instance, Miss Maud is able to run wild across the landscape on her horse. Hester, though, walks the countryside with Agnes to attend church services, pointing out that the landscape is not only one of risk and moral abandonment. In both generations of the story, shepherds must trudge through the night in freezing weather, suggesting a kinship as much with the beasts of the wild as with families who return comfortably to village or urban houses in the evening. Yet those very shepherds save Rosamond and attempt to rescue Maude Furnivall. Also, while the house is foreboding and the older inhabitants are cold, James and Dorothy provide a small but earnest community for Hester and Rosamond. Though she cannot explain all of the ghostly presences, in other words, Hester gives Gaskell a vehicle for familiarizing some of the northern landscape’s initial frightening elements. That vehicle allows the novelist to offer the gothic thrills that entertain her readers while she continues in her project to create understanding between readers of more populated and established southern England and those of the more industrialized and uncultivated northern landscapes.
By Elizabeth Gaskell