MRS. CROWE. MRS. ARCHER CLIVE. MRS. HENRY WOOD
Mrs. Catherine Crowe, whose maiden name was Stevens, was born at BoroughGreen, in Kent, about 1800, and died in 1876. She married Colonel Crowein 1822, and took up her residence with him in Edinburgh. Her books werewritten chiefly between the years 1838 and 1859, and she is best knownby her novel, "Susan Hopley," and her collection of ghost stories, "TheNight Side of Nature." She was a woman of considerable ability, whichappears, however, to have run into rather obscure and sombre channels,such as showed a somewhat morbid bent of mind, with a tendency towardsdepression, which culminated at last in a short but violent attack ofinsanity. But love of the unseen and supernatural does not seem to haveblunted her keenness of observation in ordinary life, for her novels,the scenes of which are laid chiefly among homely and domesticsurroundings, display alike soundness of judgment and considerabledramatic power. As a writer, indeed, Mrs. Crowe was extremely versatile;she wrote plays, children's stories, short historical tales, romanticnovels, as well as the ghost stories with which her name seems chieflyto be associated in the minds of this generation. It is evident too,that she believed herself--rightly or wrongly--to be possessed of greatphilosophical discrimination; but it must be acknowledged that herphilosophical and metaphysical studies often led her into curious bywaysof speculation, into which the reader does not willingly wander.
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It is worth noting that Mrs. Crowe's ideas respecting the status andeducation of women were, for the days in which she lived, exceedingly"advanced." In "Lilly Dawson," for instance, a story published in 1847,she makes an elaborate protest against the kind of education which womenwere then receiving. "It is true," she says, "that there is little realculture amongst men; there are few strong minds and fewer honest ones,but they have still more advantages. If their education has been bad, ithas at least been a trifle better than ours. Six hours a day at Latinand Greek are better than six hours a day at worsted work andembroidery; and time is better spent in acquiring a smattering ofmathematics than in strumming Hook's lessons on a bad pianoforte."
Her views of women in general are well expressed in the following wordsfrom the same work of fiction. "If, as we believe, under no system oftraining, the intellect of woman would be found as strong as that of aman, she is compensated by her intuitions being stronger. If her reasonbe less majestic, her insight is clearer; where man reasons she sees.Nature, in short, gave her all that was needful to enable her to play anoble part in the world's history, if man would but let her play it out,and not treat her like a full-grown baby, to be flattered and spoilt onthe one hand, and coerced and restricted on the other, vibrating betweenroyal rule and slavish serfdom." Surely we hear the voice of Nora Helmerherself, the very quintessence of Ibsenism! It must have requiredconsiderable courage to write in this way in the year 1847, and Mrs.Crowe should certainly be numbered among the lovers of educationalreform. In many ways she seems to have been a woman of strongindividuality and decided opinions.
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Her first work was a drama, "Aristodemus," published anonymously in1838; it showed considerable ability and was well regarded by thecritics. She then wrote a novel, "Men and Women, or Manorial Rights," in1839; and in 1841 published her most successful work of fiction: "SusanHopley, or the Adventures of a Maid-servant." This story was moregenerally popular than any other from her pen, but it is to be doubtedwhether it possesses more literary ability or points of greater interestthan the rest.
Mrs. Crowe then embarked upon a translation of "The Seeress ofProvorst," by Justinus Kerner, a book of revelations concerning theinner life of man; and in 1848 she published a book called "The NightSide of Nature," a collection of supernatural tales gathered from manysources, probably the best storehouse of ghost stories in the Englishlanguage. Its interest is a little marred by the credulity of theauthor. She seems never to disbelieve any ghost story of any kind thatcomes in her way. From the humble apologies, however, with which sheopens her dissertation on the subject, it is easy to see how great achange has passed over people's minds in the course of the last fiftyyears, with respect to the supernatural. If Mrs. Crowe had lived inthese days, she would have found herself in intimate relations with theSociety for Psychical Research, and would have had no reason to excuseherself for the choice of her subject. She divides her book intosections, which treat of dreams (where we get Sir Noel Paton's accountof his mother's curious vision); warnings; double-dreaming and trance,with the stories of Colonel Townshend's voluntary trance and thewell-known legend of Lord Balcarres and the ghost of Claverhouse;doppel-gaengers and apparitions (including the stories of LadyBeresford's branded wrist and Lord Lyttleton's warning); and otherchapters descriptive of haunted houses, with details concerningclairvoyance and the use of the crystal. It is interesting to find amongthese the original account of "Pearlin Jean," of which Miss Sarah Tytlerhas made such excellent use in one of her recent books. An account ofthe phenomena of _stigmata_ and the case of Catherine Emmerich, are alsodescribed in detail. Lovers of the supernatural will find much togratify their taste in a perusal of "The Night Side of Nature."
Mrs. Crowe did not exhaust the subject in this volume, for she issued abook on ghosts and family legends, a volume for Christmas, in the year1859; a work full of the kind of stories which became so popular in thenow almost obsolete Christmas Annual of succeeding years. It is alsocurious to note, that in 1848, Mrs. Crowe produced a work of an entirelydifferent nature, namely, an excellent story for children, entitled"Pippie's Warning, or Mind Your Temper"--another instance of herversatility of mind.
"The Adventures of a Beauty" and "Light and Darkness" appeared in 1852.The latter is a collection of short tales from different sources, partlyhistorical and partly imaginative, and certainly more in accordance withthe taste of modern days than her elaborate domestic stories. Mrs.Crowe's taste for the horrible is distinctly perceptible in thiscollection. There is an account of the celebrated poisoners, FrauGottfried, Madame Ursinus, and Margaret Zwanziger, whose crimes were sonumerous that they themselves forgot the number of their victims; and ofMr. Tinius, who went about making morning calls and murdering thepersons whom he honoured with a visit. The histories of Lesurques, thehero of the "Lyons Mail," and of Madame Louise, Princess of France, whobecame a nun, are well narrated; but nearly all the stories areconcerned with horrors such as suggest the productions of Mr. WilkieCollins. "The Priest of St. Quentin" and "The Lycanthropist" are two ofthe most powerful.
Her next novel, a more purely domestic one, was "Linny Lockwood," issuedin 1854. A sentence from the preface to this book anticipates--ratherearly, as we may think--the approaching death of the three-volumenovel: "Messrs. Routledge and Co. have been for some time soliciting meto write them an original novel for their cheap series; and beingconvinced that the period for publishing at L1 11s. 6d., books of a kindthat people generally read but once, is gone by, I have resolved to makethe experiment."
She wrote another tragedy, "The Cruel Kindness," in 1853, and abridged"Uncle Tom's Cabin" for children. In 1859 a pamphlet on "Spiritualismand the Age we Live in," constituted the last of her more importantworks, although she continued, for some time after recovery from theattack of insanity which we have mentioned, to write papers and storiesfor periodicals.
In spite of Mrs. Crowe's love for the supernatural and the horrible, sheis one of the pioneers of the purely domestic story--that story of theaffections and the emotions peculiar to the Victorian Age. She is alliedto the schools of Richardson and Fanny Burney rather than to those ofSir Walter Scott or Miss Austen; for although her incidents are oftenromantic and even far-fetched, her characters are curiously homely andgenerally of humble environment. Thus, for instance, "Susan Hopley" is amaid-servant (though not of the Pamela kind nor with the faintestresemblance to Esther Waters); Lilly Dawson, although proved ultimatelyto be the daughter of a colonel, passes the greater part of her earlierlife as a drudge and a dependent; and L
inny Lockwood, while refined andeducated, is reduced to the situation of a lady's maid. Thecircumstances of her heroines are, as a rule, extremely prosaic, andwould possibly have been condemned by writers of Miss Austen's school ashopelessly vulgar; but Mrs. Crowe's way of treating these characters andtheir surroundings bears upon it no stamp of vulgarity at all. Its greatdefect is its want of humour to light up the sordid side of the lifewhich she describes. She is almost always serious, full of exalted andoccasionally overstrained sentiment. And even when treating ofchildhood, it is rarely that she relaxes so far as (in "Lilly Dawson")to describe the naughtiness of the little girl who insisted upon prayingfor the cat. This is almost the sole glimpse of a sense of fun to whichMrs. Crowe treats us in her numerous volumes.
To the present age "Susan Hopley," although so popular at the time ofits publication, is less attractive than the stories of "Linny Lockwood"and "Lilly Dawson." The form adopted for the recital of Susan'snarrative is extremely inartistic, for it comprises Susan'sreminiscences, interspersed at intervals with narrative, and supposed tobe told by her in mature age, when she is housekeeper to the hero ofthe story. Nevertheless, the plot is ingenious, turning on the murder ofSusan's brother by a handsome and gentlemanly villain, and thesubsequent exposure of his guilt by means of Susan's energy and therepentance of one of his victims. It has all the elements of asensational story, with the exception of a "sympathetic" heroine or anyother really interesting character; for Susan Hopley, the embodiment ofall homely virtues, is distinctly dull, and it is difficult to feel theattractiveness of the "beautiful and haughty" dairymaid, MabelLightfoot, whose frailty forms an important element in the discovery ofGaveston's guilt.
"Lilly Dawson" may be said to possess something of a psychologicalinterest, which redeems it from the charge of dulness brought against"Susan Hopley." The heroine is thrown as a child into the hands of awild and lawless family, smugglers and desperadoes, who make of her ahousehold slave; and the child appears at first to be utterly stupid andapathetic. A touch of affection and sympathy is needed before herintellect awakes. In fear of being forced to marry one of the sons ofthe house in which she has been brought up, when she is only fifteen,she escapes from her enemies, becomes the guide and adopted child of anold blind man, takes service as a nursemaid, is employed in a milliner'sworkroom, narrowly escapes being murdered by the man whom she refusedto marry, and finally acts as maid in the house of her own relations,where she is discovered and received with the greatest affection.Nevertheless, she cannot endure the life of "a fine lady," and goes backultimately to marry the humble lover whose kindness had cheered her inthe days of her childhood and poverty.
In "Linny Lockwood" there is a touch of emotion, even of passion, whichis wanting in the previous stories. It embraces scenes and situationswhich are quite as moving as any which thrilled the English public inthe pages of "Jane Eyre" or "East Lynne," but, owing possibly to Mrs.Crowe's obstinate realism and somewhat didactic homeliness of dictionand sentiment, it seems somewhat to have missed its mark. Linny Lockwoodmarries a man entirely unworthy of her, whose love strays speedily fromher to another woman--a married woman with whom he elopes and whom heafterwards abandons. Linny, being poor and destitute, looks about forwork, and takes the post of maid to her husband's deserted mistress,without, of course, knowing what had been the connection between them.But before the birth of Kate's child, Linny learns the truth andnevertheless remains with her to soothe her weakness, and lessen thepangs of remorse of which the poor woman ultimately dies. A fullexplanation between the two women takes place before Kate's death; andthe child that is left behind is adopted by Linny Lockwood, who refusesto pardon the husband, who sues to her for forgiveness, or to live withhim again.
The character of Linny Lockwood is a very beautiful one, and the storyappeals to the reader's sensibilities more strongly than the recital ofSusan Hopley's adventures or the girlish sorrows of Lilly Dawson.
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Mrs. Crowe's writings certainly heralded the advent of a new kind offiction: a kind which has been, perhaps more than any other,characteristic of the early years of the Victorian Age. It is theliterature of domestic realism, of homely unromantic characters, whichno accessories of exciting adventure can render interesting orremarkable in themselves--characters distinguished by every sort ofvirtue, yet not possessed of any ideal attractiveness. She isold-fashioned enough to insist upon a happy ending, to punish the wickedand to reward the good. But amid all the conventionality of her style,one is conscious of a note of hard common sense and a power of seeingthings as they really are, which in these days would probably haveforced her (perhaps against her will) into the realistic school. Sheseems, in fact, to hover between two ages of literature, and to bepossessed at times of two different spirits--one the romantic and thesupernatural, the other distinctly commonplace and workaday. Perhaps itis by the former that she will be chiefly remembered, but it is throughthe latter that she takes a place in English literature. She left a markupon the age in which she lived, and she helped, in a quiet,undemonstrative fashion, to mould the women of England after higherideals than had been possible in the early days of the century. Thosewho consider the development of women to be one of the distinguishingfeatures of Queen Victoria's reign should not forget that they owe deepgratitude to writers like Mrs. Crowe, who upheld the standard of awoman's right to education and economic independence long before thesesubjects were discussed in newspapers and upon public platforms. For, asGeorge Eliot has said, with her usual wisdom, it is owing to the laboursof those who have lived in comparative obscurity and lie in forgottengraves, that things are well with us here and now.
Caroline Clive was the second daughter and co-heiress of EdmundMeysey-Wigley, of Shakenhurst, Worcestershire. She was born in 1801, atBrompton Green, London, and was married in 1840 to the Rev. ArcherClive, Rector of Solihull, Warwickshire. In the latest edition of herpoems, her daughter states that "Mrs. Archer Clive, from a severeillness when she was three years old, was lame; and though her strongmind and high spirit carried her happily through childhood and earlylife, as she grew up she felt sharply the loss of all the activepleasures enjoyed by others."
Her novel, "Paul Ferroll," contains a touching poem which shows howdeeply she felt the privations consequent on her infirmity.
"Gaeta's orange groves were there Half circling round the sun-kissed sea; And all were gone and left the fair Rich garden solitude but me.
"My feeble feet refused to tread The rugged pathway to the bay; Down the steep rocky way they tread And gain the boat and glide away.
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"Above me hung the golden glow Of fruit which is at one with flowers; Below me gleamed the ocean's flow, Like sapphires in the midday hours.
"A passing by there was of wings, Of silent, flower-like butterflies; The sudden beetle as it springs Full of the life of southern skies.
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"It was an hour of bliss to die, But not to sleep, for ever came The warm thin air, and, passing by, Fanned sense and soul and heart to flame."
A great love of nature and a yearning to tread its scenes breathe inevery word of these lines, which possess an essentially pathetic charmof their own.
Mrs. Clive died in July 1873, from the result of an accident, by whichher dress was set on fire when she was writing in her boudoir atWhitfield, with her books and papers around her. Her health wasextremely delicate, and she had been for many years a confirmed invalid.
Her first work consisted of the well-known "IX Poems by V." published in1840. These poems were very favourably received, and were much praisedby Dugald Stewart, by Lockhart, and by Mr. Gladstone, who says of them,"They form a small book, which is the life and soul of a great book."They were also very favourably reviewed in the _Quarterly_ (LXVI.408-11). Her other poems, "I Watch the Heavens," "The Queen's Ball,""The Vale of the Rea," etc., have been re-published
with the original"IX" in a separate volume. "Year After Year," published in 1858, passedinto two editions; but Mrs. Clive's reputation chiefly rests upon herstory of "Paul Ferroll," published in 1855, and its sequel, "Why PaulFerroll Killed his Wife." The second story was, however, in no way equalto the first; and a subsequent novel, "John Greswold," which appeared in1864, was decidedly inferior to its predecessors, although containingpassages of considerable literary merit.
"Paul Ferroll" has passed through several editions, and has beentranslated into French. It was not until the fourth edition that theconcluding chapter, which brings the story down to the death of PaulFerroll, was added.
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There is little difference in date between the writings of Mrs. Croweand those of Mrs. Archer Clive, but there is a tremendous gap betweentheir methods and the tone of their novels. As a matter of fact theybelong to different generations, in spite of their similarity of age.Mrs. Crowe belongs to the older school of fictionists, while Mrs.Archer Clive is curiously modern. The tone and style are like the toneand style of the present day, not so much in the dialogue, which isgenerally stilted, after the fashion of the age in which she lived, asin the mental attitude of the characters, in the atmosphere of thebooks, and the elaborate, sometimes even artistic, collocation of scenesand incidents.
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"Paul Ferroll" is often looked upon merely as a novel of plot, almostthe first "sensational" novel, as we call it, of the century. But it ismore than that. There is a distinct working out of character and asubordination of mere incident to its development; and the originalending was of so striking and pathetic a nature that we can only regretthe subsequent addition, which probably the influence of others madenecessary, just as in "Villette" Charlotte Bronte was obliged to softendown her own conception, in order to satisfy the conventionalrequirements of her friends.
The story of "Paul Ferroll" displays a good deal of constructive skill,although the mystery enfolded in its pages is more easily penetratedthan would be the case in a modern sensational novel. The fact is, wehave increased our knowledge of the intricacies both of human nature andof criminal law in these latter days, and our novelists are cleverer inconcealing or half revealing their mysteries than they were in "theforties." For a few pages, at least, the reader may be deluded into thebelief that Paul Ferroll is a worthy and innocent man, and that his wifehas been murdered by some revengeful servant or ruffianly vagabond. Butthe secret of his guilt is too speedily fathomed; and from that point tothe end of the book, the question turns on the possibilities of itsdiscovery or the likelihood and effects of his own confession.
Mrs. Clive's picture of the "bold bad man" is not so successful as thatof Charlotte Bronte's Rochester. Rochester, with all his faults,commands sympathy, but our sympathies are alienated from Paul Ferrollwhen we find (in the first chapter) that he could ride out tranquilly ona summer's morning, scold his gardener, joke with the farmer's wife, andstraighten out the farmer's accounts, when he had just previouslymurdered his wife in her sleep by thrusting a sharp pointed knifethrough her head "below the ear." Even although he afterwards exhibitsagitation on being brought face to face with the corpse of his wife, wecannot rid ourselves of our remembrance of the insensibility which hehad shown. The motive for the crime is not far to seek. He had fixed hisaffections on a young girl, his marriage with whom had been prevented bythe woman who became his wife. Dissension and increasing bitternessgrew up between the pair; and her death was held as a release by PaulFerroll, who hastened to bring home, as his second wife, the girl whomhe had formerly loved.
No suspicion attached to him, and he is careful to provide means ofdefence for the labourer Franks and his wife, who have been accused ofthe murder. On returning home with his second wife, to whom he ispassionately attached, he devotes himself entirely to literary pursuits,refusing to mix with any of the society of the place. From time to timehis motive is allowed to appear; he has determined never to accept afavour from, nor become a friend of, the country gentlemen, with whom heis thrown into contact, so that they shall never have to say, supposingthe truth should ever be acknowledged, that he has made his way intotheir houses on false pretences. But in spite of his seclusion, he livesa life of ideal happiness with his wife, Ellinor, and their beautifullittle child, Janet, who, however, occupies quite a secondary place inthe hearts of her father and mother, who are wrapt up in one another.
The events of the next few years are not treated in detail, althoughthere is at one point a most interesting description of the state of atown in which cholera rages, when Paul Ferroll flings himself withheroic ardour into every effort to stem the tide of the disease. Owingto a riot at the time of the Assizes, Ferroll fires on one of the crowdand kills him, so that by a curious coincidence, he is tried for murder,and has full experience of the horrors accompanying the situation of acriminal. He is sentenced to death but pardoned, and returns to his oldlife at home. The widow of the labourer who had formerly been accused ofthe murder of his first wife then returns to England, and Ferroll knowsthat her return increases the danger of discovery. He tries to escape itby going abroad, but finds on his return that Martha Franks, the widow,is in possession of some trinkets which belonged to the late Mrs.Ferroll, that she has been accused of theft and finally of the murder ofher mistress. This is the very conjuncture which had always appearedpossible to Paul Ferroll; the moment has come when he feels himselfobliged to confess the truth, in order to save a fellow creature fromunjust condemnation. He thereupon acknowledges his guilt, is at onceconveyed to prison, and after a merely formal trial is condemned todeath--the execution to take place, apparently, in three days, accordingto the inhuman custom of the time.
Ellinor dies on the day when she hears of his confession; and Janet, hisdaughter, now eighteen years old, and Janet's young lover, HughBartlett, are the only persons who remain faithful to him or makeefforts for his safety. Through Hugh's efforts and the treachery of thegaoler, Paul Ferroll manages, in a somewhat improbable manner, to escapefrom prison; and he and Janet make their way to Spain, whence they willbe able to take ship for America.
The conclusion of the story, as at first written, is particularlystriking. Janet, after an illness, has come to herself: "She did notknow the place where she was. The air was warm and perfumed, the windowsshaded, the room quite a stranger to her. An elderly woman, with a blacksilk mantle on her head and over her shoulders, spoke to her. She didnot understand the meaning, but she knew the words were Spanish. Thenthe tide of recollection rushed back, and the black cold night camefully before her, which was the last thing she recollected. 'My father,'she said, rising as well as she could. The woman had gone to the windowand beckoned, and in another minute Mr. Ferroll stood by her bedside.'Can you still love me, Janet?' said he. 'Love you! oh yes, my father.'"
It seems a pity that a concluding chapter was afterwards added,containing a description of Janet's life with her father in Boston, andof his dying moments and last words, which might well have been left tothe imagination. The original conclusion was more impressive withoutthese details.
It is rather curious, too, that Mrs. Clive should have written anothervolume to explain _why_ Paul Ferroll killed his wife; but possibly shethought further explanation was necessary, since she prefixed to thelatter volume a quotation from Froude's "Henry the Eighth": "A man doesnot murder his wife gratuitously." In this book she changes the names ofall the characters except that of Ellinor. Paul Ferroll is Leslie, andhis wife, Anne, is Laura. Ellinor, the young and beautiful girl out of aconvent, completely enchants Leslie, whom Laura had intended to marry;and Laura contrives, by deliberate malice, so completely to sever themthat he makes Laura his wife, while Ellinor returns to the convent."Violent were the passions of the strong but bitter man; fierce thehatred of the powerful but baffled intellect. Wild was the fury of theman who believed in but one world of good, and saw the mortal momentspass away unenjoyed and irretrievable. Out of these hours aros
e apurpose. The reader sees the man and knows the deed. From the premiseslaid before him, he need not indeed conclude that even that man would dothe deed, but since it was told in 1855 that the husband killed hiswife, so now in 1860 it is explained _why_ he killed her."
This second volume is decidedly inferior to the first, but it shared inthe popularity which "Paul Ferroll" had already achieved, and theauthor's vigorous portraiture of characters and events was well markedin both volumes.
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With her third volume, "John Greswold," came a sudden falling off, atany rate as regards dramatic force. "John Greswold" is the autobiographyof a young man who has very little story to tell and does not know howto tell it. No grip is laid on the reader's attention; no characterclaims especial interest, but the thing that is remarkable in the bookis the literary touch, which is far more perceptible than in the moreinteresting story of "Paul Ferroll." The book is somewhat inchoate, butcontains short passages of real beauty, keen shafts of observation, andan occasional flight of emotional expression, which raise the writer toa greater literary elevation than the merely sensational incidents ofher earlier novels. She has gained in reflective power, but lost herdramatic instinct. Consequently "John Greswold" was less successful than"Paul Ferroll."
The conclusion of the book, vague and indecisive, shows the author to bemarked out by nature as one of the Impressionist School. It is powerfuland yet indefinite; in fact it could only have been written by one witha true poetic gift. "The seven stars that never set are going westward.The funeral car of Lazarus moves on and the three mourners followbehind. They are above the fir wood and that's the sign of midnight.Twenty-three years ago I was born into this world and now thetwenty-third has run out. The time is gone. The known things are allover and buried in the darkness behind. Before me lies the great blankpage of the future and no writing traced upon it. But it is nothing tome. I won't ask nor think, nor hope, nor fear about it. The leaf of thebook is turned and there's an end--the tale is told."
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"Paul Ferroll" may be considered as the precursor of the purelysensational novel, or of what may be called the novel of mystery. MissBronte in "Jane Eyre" uses to some extent the same kind of material, buther work is far more a study of character than the story of "PaulFerroll" can claim to be. In "Paul Ferroll," indeed, the analysis ofmotive is entirely absent. The motives that actuated Paul Ferroll are tobe gathered simply from chance expressions or his actions. Nodescription of the human heart has been attempted. The picture of theviolent, revengeful, strongly passionate nature of the man is forcibleenough, but it is displayed by action and not by introspection. It isfor this reason that Mrs. Clive may be placed in the forefront of thesensational novelists of the century. She anticipated the work of WilkieCollins, of Charles Reade, of Miss Braddon, and many others of theirschool, in showing human nature as expressed by its energies, neitherdiagnosing it like a physician, nor analysing it like a priest. Avigorous representation of the outside semblance of things is thepeculiar characteristic of the so-called sensational novelist; and it isin this respect that "Paul Ferroll" excels many of the novels ofincident written during the first half of this century. It heralded anew departure in the ways of fiction. It set forth the delights of amystery, the pleasures of suspense, together with a thrilling picture of"the strong man in adversity," which has been beloved of fiction-mongersfrom the first days of fable in the land.
But perhaps it was successful, most of all, because it introduced itsreaders to a new sensation. Hitherto they had been taught to look on thehero of a novel as necessarily a noble and virtuous being, endowed withheroic, not to say angelic qualities; but this conviction was now to bereversed. The change was undoubtedly startling. Even Scott had not gotbeyond the tradition of a good young man as hero, a tradition which theBrontes and Mrs. Archer Clive were destined to break down. For Scott'smost fascinating character, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, was confessedly thevillain of the piece; and the splendidly picturesque figure of Dundeewas supposed to be less attractive than the tame and scrupulouspersonality of Henry Morton. It was a convention amongst writers thatvice and crime must be repulsive, and that there was somethinginherently attractive in virtue--a wholesome doctrine, insufficientlypreached in these days, but not strictly consistent with facts. To find,therefore, a villain--and a thorough-paced villain, the murderer of hiswife--installed in the place of hero and represented as noble, handsome,and gifted, naturally thrilled the readers' minds with a mixture ofhorror and delight. The substitution of villain for hero is now toocommon to excite remark, but it was a striking event in the days when"Paul Ferroll" was published, although there had been instances of asimilar kind in the novels of the eighteenth century. The new fashiongained ground and speedily exceeded the limits which Mrs. Archer Clivewould no doubt have set to it; but it is nevertheless in part to herthat we owe this curious transposition of _roles_, which hasrevolutionised the aims and objects of fiction in the latter half of thenineteenth century.
MRS. HENRY WOOD
The art of the _raconteur_, pure and simple, is apt to be undervalued inour days. A rage for character-painting, for analysis, for subtlediscrimination, down to the minutest detail, has taken hold upon us; andalthough we have lately returned to a taste for adventure of the morestirring kind, there is still an underlying conviction that the highestforms of literary art deal with mental states and degrees of emotions,instead of with the ordinary complications of every-day life. Hence theperson who is gifted simply with a desire (and the power) of telling astory _as_ a story, with no ulterior motive, with no ambition ofintellectual achievement, the Scheherazade of our quiet evenings andholiday afternoons, is apt to take a much lower place in our estimationthan she deserves.
This is especially the case with Mrs. Henry Wood. It is impossible toclaim for her any lofty literary position; she is emphaticallyun-literary and middle-class. But she never has cause to say, "Story?God bless you, I have none to tell, Sir," for she always has a verydistinct and convincing story, which she handles with a skill which canperhaps be valued only by the professional novelist, who knows thetechnical difficulty of handling the numerous _groups_ of characterswhich Mrs. Wood especially affects. There is no book of hers whichdeals--as so many novels deal--with merely one or two characters. Shetakes the whole town into her story, wherever it may be. We not onlyknow the Lord-Lieutenant and the High Sheriff and the Squire, but we areintimate (particularly intimate) with the families of the local lawyerand doctor. We are almost equally well acquainted with their bootmakerand green-grocer, while their maids and their grooms are as much livingentities to us as if they had served us in our own houses. To take agreat group of _dramatis personae_, widely differing in circumstances, incharacter, in individuality; to keep them all perfectly clear withoutconfusion and without wavering; to evolve from them some central figureson which the attention of the subsidiary characters shall be unavoidablyfixed, and to weave a plot of mystery, intrigue, treachery or passionwhich must be resolved to its ultimate elements before the last page ofthe book--to do all this is really an achievement of which many awriter, who values himself on his intellectual superiority to Mrs. HenryWood, might well be proud. It is no more easy to marshal a multitude ofcharacters in the pages of your book than to dispose bodies of soldiersin advantageous positions over an unknown country. The eye of a generalis in some respects needed for both operations, and the true balanceand proportion of a plot are not matters which come by accident or canbe accomplished without skill. It may not be literary skill, but it isskill of a kind which deserves recognition, under what name soever itmay be classed.
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Mrs. Henry Wood was born in Worcestershire in 1814, and died in Londonin 1887. She suffered from delicate health and passed the greater partof her life as an invalid. She was the daughter of Mr. Thomas Price, oneof the largest glove manufacturers in the city of Worcester. She marriedMr. Henry Wood, the hea
d of a large banking and shipping firm, whoretired early from work and died comparatively young. It was not untilmiddle life that Mrs. Wood began to write; and her first work,--perhaps,of all her works, the most popular--was "East Lynne," which firstappeared in _Colburn's New Monthly Magazine_. Its success was prodigiousand it is still one of the most popular novels upon the shelves of everycirculating library. It has been translated into many languages anddramatised in different forms. It was published in 1861, and reached afifth edition within the year.
Amongst her most popular works also are "The Channings" and "Mrs.Halliburton's Troubles," 1862; "The Shadow of Ashlydyat," 1863; "St.Martin's Eve," 1866; "A Life's Secret," 1867; "Roland Yorke," a sequelto "The Channings," 1869; "Johnny Ludlow," stories re-printed from the_Argosy_, 1874 to 1885; "Edina," 1876; "Pomeroy Abbey," 1878; "CourtNetherleigh," 1881; and many other stories and novels. Mrs. Wood was formany years the editor of the _Argosy_.
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The reason of the popularity of "East Lynne" is not far to seek. It is,to begin with, a very touching story; and its central situation, whichin some respects recalls the relation of the two women in Mrs. Crowe's"Linny Lockwood," is genuinely striking. It is perhaps not worth whileto argue as to its probability. It is, of course, barely possible that awoman should come disguised into the house where she formerly reigned asmistress, and act as governess to her own children, without beingrecognised. As a matter of fact, she is recognised by one of theservants only on account of a momentary forgetfulness of her disguise.Her own husband, her own children, do not know her in the least; andalthough he and his kinswoman are vaguely troubled by what they considera chance resemblance, they dismiss it from their minds as utterlyimpossible, until the day when Lady Isabel, dying in her husband'shouse, begs to see him for the last time. The changes in her personalappearance, her lameness, for instance, and the greyness of her hair,are very ingeniously contrived; but it certainly seems almost impossiblethat two or three years should have so completely changed her thatnobody should even guess at her identity.
The present generation complains that the pathos of the story isoverdone; but even if detail after detail is multiplied, so as to harrowthe reader's feelings almost unnecessarily, the fact still remains thatMrs. Wood has imagined as pitiful and tragic a situation as couldpossibly exist in the domestic relations of man and woman. The erringwife returning to find her husband married to another woman, to nurseone of her own children through his last illness without beingrecognised by him or by her husband, and to die at last in her husband'shouse with the merest shadow of consolation in the shape of his somewhatgrudging forgiveness, presents us with a figure which cannot fail to beextremely pathetic.
The faults of Mrs. Henry Wood's style, its occasional prolixity andcommonplaceness, the iteration of the moral reflections, as well as thetriteness and feebleness sometimes of the dialogue, very nearlydisappear from view when we resign ourselves to a consideration of thistragic situation. It cannot be denied that there is just a touch ofmawkishness now and then, just a slight ring of false sentiment in thepity accorded to Lady Isabel, who was certainly one of the silliestyoung women that ever existed in the realms of fiction. Nevertheless thespectacle of the mother nursing the dying boy, who does not know her, isone that will always appeal to the heart of the ordinary reader, andwill go far to account for the extraordinary popularity of "East Lynne."
A novelist of more aspiring genius would perhaps have concentrated ourattention exclusively upon Lady Isabel's feelings and tragic fate. HereMrs. Wood's failings, as well as her capacities, reveal themselves. Shesees the tragic side of things, but she sees also (and perhaps too much)the pathos of small incidents, the importance of trifles. She spares usno jot of the sordid side of life. And in a novel of the undoubted powerof "East Lynne" there are some details which might have been spared us.The rapacity of the creditors who seize the body of Lady Isabel'sfather, the gossip of the servants, the suspicions of Afy Hallijohn,and, in short, almost all the underplot respecting Richard Hare--thesematters are superfluous. The reader's eye ought to be kept moreattentively upon the heroine and her relations with Mr. Carlisle and SirFrancis. The one inexplicable point in the story is Lady Isabel'sdesertion of her husband for a man whom she must despise. It is neverhinted that she had for one moment lost her heart to Francis Levison.She left her husband out of sheer pique and jealousy, loving himardently all the while, although, in her ignorance and folly, shescarcely knew that she loved him. Here the story is weak. We feel thatMrs. Wood sacrifices probability in her effort to obtain a strikingsituation. For the strongest part of "East Lynne" is the description ofwhat occurs when Lady Isabel returns as a governess to her old home,when her husband, supposing her to be dead, has married his old loveBarbara Hare. To this situation, everything is subordinate; and it is initself so strong that we cannot wonder if the author strains a point ortwo in order to achieve it.
But the curious, the characteristic, thing is that even in this supremecrisis of the story, Mrs. Wood's essential love of detail, and ofsomewhat commonplace detail, asserts itself over and over again. Theincidents she takes pains to narrate are rational enough. There is noreason why pathos should be marred because a dying child asks for cheesewith his tea, or because the sensible stepmother condemns Lucy to a dietof bread and water for some trifling offence, or because Miss CorneliaCarlisle displays her laughable eccentricities at Lady Isabel's bedside.The pathos is marred now and then, not because of these trifling yetirritating incidents, but because we get an impression that the authorhas forced a number of utterly prosaic people into a tragic situationfor which they are eminently unfitted. The ducking of Sir FrancisLevison in the horsepond is an example of this. The man was a heartlessvillain and murderer, yet he is presented to us in a scene of almostvulgar farce as part of his retribution. If the author had herselfrealised the insufficiency of her characters to rise to the tragicheight demanded of them, she might have achieved either satire orintense realism; but there is a certain smugness in Mrs. Henry Wood'sacceptance of the commonplaces of life which makes us feel her aninadequate painter of tragedy. We close the book with a suspicion thatshe preferred the intolerable Barbara to the winsome and erring LadyIsabel.
"East Lynne" owes half its popularity, however, to that reaction againstinane and impossible goodness which has taken place since the middle ofthe century. Just as Rochester and Paul Ferroll are protests against theconventional hero, so Lady Isabel is a protest against the conventionalheroine--and a portent of her time! We were all familiar with beauty andvirtue in distress, from Clarissa Harlowe downwards. It is during lateryears that we have become conversant with beauty and guilt as objects ofour sympathy and commiseration.
The moralists of the time--Saturday Reviewers, and others--perceived thechange from one point of view, and were not slow to comment on it. Theiropposition to the modern novel was chiefly based upon what they called aglorification of vice and crime. Now that the mists of prejudice havecleared away, we can see very well that no more praise of wrong-doing wasimplied by Mrs. Wood's portrait of Lady Isabel than by Thackeray'skeen-edged delineation of Becky Sharp or George Eliot's sorrowfulsympathy with Maggie Tulliver. What was at first set down as a new andrevolutionary kind of admiration for weakness and criminality soonresolved itself into a manifestation of that remarkable _Zeit-Geist_which has made itself felt in every department of human life. It is thatside of the modern spirit which leads to the comprehension of thesufferings of others, to a new pity for their faults and weaknesses, anew breadth of tolerance, and a generous reluctance to judge harshly ofone's fellow man. It has crept into the domain of law, of religiousthought, of philanthropic effort, and it cannot be excluded from therealms of literature and art. It is, in fact, the scientific spirit,which says "there's nothing good or ill but thinking makes it so;" whichrefuses to dogmatise or hastily to condemn; which looks for the motivesand reasons and causes of men's actions, and knows the infinitegradations between folly and wisdom, between black
and white, betweenright and wrong. If science had done nothing else, it would be anenormous gain that she should teach us to suspend our judgment, to weighevidence, and thus to pave the way for that diviner spirit by which werefuse to consider any sinner irreclaimable or any criminal beyond thereach of human sympathy.
"East Lynne" was received with general acclamation, and has beentranslated, it is said, into every known tongue, including Parsee andHindustanee. "Some years ago," her son states, "one of the chieflibrarians in Madrid informed Mrs. Henry Wood that the most popular bookon his shelves, original or translated, was 'East Lynne.' Not very longago it was translated into Welsh and brought out in a Welsh newspaper.It has been dramatised and played so often that had the author receiveda small royalty from every representation it was long since estimatedthat it would have returned to her no less than a quarter of a millionsterling, but she never received anything.... In the English Coloniesthe sale of the various works increased steadily year by year. In Francethe story has been dramatised and is frequently played in Paris and theProvinces." On its first appearance, an enthusiastic review in the_Times_ produced a tremendous effect upon the public; the librarieswere besieged for copies, and the printers had to work night and dayupon new editions. In fact the success of "East Lynne" was one of themost remarkable literary incidents of the century.
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The most popular of Mrs. Henry Wood's books, next to "East Lynne," seemto be "Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles" and "The Channings." These arestories of more entirely quiet domestic interest than "East Lynne." Thesituations are less tragical and the plots less complicated. Mrs.Halliburton's quiet endurance of the privations and difficulties of herlife, the pathetic life and death of her little Janey, and the ultimatesuccess and achievements of her sons, linger in the memory of the readeras a pleasant and homely picture of the vicissitudes of English life.
There is a more humorous element in "The Channings," from theintroduction of so many youthful characters--the boys of the Cathedralschool, notably Bywater, who is the incarnation of good-humouredimpudence, giving brightness to the tone of the story. The schoolboysare in this, as in many other of Mrs. Wood's novels, particularly welldrawn. They are not prigs; they are anything but angels, in spite oftheir white surplices and their beautiful voices; and their escapadesand adventures in the old cloisters were wild enough to make the oldmonks turn in their graves. No doubt many incidents of this kind weredrawn from life and owe their origin to Mrs. Wood's acquaintance withthe Choir School belonging to Worcester Cathedral.
It was not the only occasion on which the manufacturer's daughter turnedher knowledge of Worcester to good account. It may be said that themajority of her novels are coloured, more or less, by the author'slengthy residence in a cathedral town. It was in 1874 that the firstseries of short stories, supposed to be narrated by Johnny Ludlow, beganin the _Argosy_. Johnny Ludlow is a young lad belonging to aWorcestershire family, who is supposed to narrate incidents which havecome under his observation at school or at home. Some of the storiesthus produced are striking and vigorous; others are of less merit, butall are distinguished by the strong individuality of the characters, andby the fidelity with which Worcester and Worcestershire life aredescribed. It now seems extraordinary that there should have been theslightest doubt as to the authorship of these stories, for Mrs. Wood'speculiarities of style are observable on every page. Mr. Charles W.Wood, her son, remarks that "no one knew, or even guessed at, theauthorship;" but this is a rather exaggerated statement, as we havereason to be aware that the author was recognised at once by critics ofdiscrimination. Still the general public were for some time deceived,imagining Johnny Ludlow to be a new author, whose stories theyoccasionally contrasted with those of Mrs. Henry Wood, and were said toprefer, probably much to the novelist's own amusement.
The great variety of plot and incident found in the "Johnny Ludlow"stories is their most remarkable feature. The same characters are, ofcourse, introduced again and again, as Johnny Ludlow moves in a circleof country squires, clergy, and townspeople. But it is astonishing withhow much effect the stories of different lives can be placed in the samesetting, and with what infinite changes the life of a country districtcan be reproduced. The characters are clearly drawn and often very wellcontrasted, and no doubt Mrs. Henry Wood's memories of her earlier lifein the district contributed largely to the success of this series. Thefirst series ran in the _Argosy_ and were re-printed, 1874-1880, while asecond and third series maintained their popularity in 1881 and in 1885.
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It has been computed that Mrs. Wood wrote not fewer than from three tofour hundred short stories, every one of them with a distinct andcarefully worked-out plot, in addition to nearly forty long novels: aproof, if any were wanted, of the extreme fertility of her imaginationand the facility of her pen.
It has, however, sometimes been wondered why Mrs. Henry Wood's worksshould have attained so great a circulation when they are conspicuouslywanting in the higher graces of literary style or intellectualattainment. The reason appears to lie chiefly in certain qualities ofher writings which appeal in an entirely creditable way to the heart andmind of the British public. Mrs. Wood's stories, although sensational inplot, are purely domestic. They are concerned chiefly with the greatmiddle-class of England, and she describes lower middle-class life witha zest and a conviction and a sincerity which we do not find in manymodern writers, who are apt to sneer at the _bourgeois_ habits and modesof thought found in so many English households. Now the _bourgeoisie_does not like to be sneered at. If it eats tripe and onions, and wearsbright blue silk dresses, and rejoices in dinner-tea, it neverthelessconsiders its fashions to be as well worth serious attention as those ofthe Upper Ten. Mrs. Henry Wood never satirises, she only records. It isher fidelity to truth, to the smallest domestic detail, which hascharmed and will continue to charm, a large circle of readers, who areinclined perhaps to glory in the name of "Philistine."
Then there is the loftier quality of a high, if somewhat conventional,moral tone. Mrs. Wood's novels are emphatically on the side of purity,honesty, domestic life and happiness. There is no book of hers whichdoes not breathe this spirit, or can be said to be anything butharmless. Her character-drawing has merit; but it is not to be wonderedat, considering the number of works she produced, that she should repeatthe same type over and over again with a certain monotonous effect. Thesweet and gentle wife and mother, not too strong in character, butperfectly refined and conscientious, such as Maria in the "Shadow ofAshlydyat"; the "perfect gentleman," noble, upright, proud, generallywith blue eyes and straight features, like Oswald Cray and Mr. Carlisleand Mr. North--these are characters with which we continually meet andof which, admirable in themselves as they are, we sometimes weary. Butalthough the portraiture is not very subtle, it is on the whole faithfulto life.
Then there is that especial group of Mrs. Wood's stories alreadymentioned, into which an element of freshness, then somewhat unusual infiction, is largely introduced. These are the stories which have much todo with boys and boy-life--notably "The Channings," "Roland Yorke,""Orville College," "Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles," "Lady Grace," and the"Johnny Ludlow" series. These books, less sensational in plot than manyof Mrs. Wood's novels, have been peculiarly successful, perhaps becausethe scenes and characters are largely drawn from real life. Mrs. Wood'slong residence at Worcester made her familiar with the life of thecollege boys, who haunt the precincts of the stately old cathedral, andshe has introduced her knowledge of their pranks with very great effect.Her descriptions of the old city itself, of the streets, of thecloisters, of the outlying villages and byways, are remarkably accurate,and remind one of the use which Charles Dickens made, in the same way,of Rochester and its cathedral.
It is really extraordinary to see how large a part of Mrs. Wood's workis concerned with Worcester, and how well she could render, when shechose, the dialogue of the country and the customs of its people. Thereason is, o
f course, that these things are true; that she gives us inthese books a part of her own experience, of her own life. Another groupof her books is interesting for a similar reason--the novels in whichshe deals with business life, and the relations of employers to theirmen. Such are "A Life's Secret," which is the very interesting historyof a strike; "The Foggy Night at Offord," "Mrs. Halliburton'sTroubles," and several of the "Johnny Ludlow" stories, where incidentsof the manufacturing districts of England have been introduced with verygood effect, Mrs. Wood's own connection with glove manufacturers inWorcester having supplied her with ample materials for this kind offiction. In "A Life's Secret" there is an extremely clever picture ofthe lower type of workman, and some excellent sketches of poor peopleand of the misery they suffer during the strike and subsequent lockout.
The third class of Mrs. Wood's books consists of what may be calledworks of pure imagination, with sometimes a slight touch of the romanticand supernatural--such as "The Shadow of Ashlydyat," "St. Martin's Eve,""Lady Adelaide's Oath," "Lord Oakburn's Daughters," "George Canterbury'sWill," etc. From the literary point of view these books are less worthythan the others, but they are particularly well constructed andingenious. There are no loose ends, and Mrs. Wood's skill in weaving aplot seems never to have diminished to the last day of her life. But herearlier and perhaps simpler work had more real value than even the bookswhich display such great constructive skill. Mrs. Wood would possiblyhave taken a higher place amongst English novelists if she had avoidedmere sensation, and confined herself to what she could do well--namely,the faithful and realistic rendering of English middle class life. Shehas had, perhaps, more popularity than any novelist of the Victorianage; and her popularity is justified by the wholesomeness and purity ofher moral tone, the ingenuity and sustained interest of her plots, andthe quiet truthfulness, in many cases, of her delineation of character.
Her faults are those of the class for which she wrote, her merits aretheirs also. It is no small praise to say that she never revelled indangerous situations, nor justified the wrong-doing of any of hercharacters. When one considers the amount of work that she produced, andthe nature of that work, it is amazing to reflect on the variety ofincident and character which she managed to secure. Her plots oftenturned upon sad or even tragic events, but the sadness and the tragedywere natural and simple. There was nothing unwholesome about her books.She will probably be read and remembered longer than many writers of afar higher literary standing; and although fashions, even in fiction,have greatly changed since the days when "East Lynne" and "TheChannings" made their mark, there is no doubt that they hold their placein the affections of many an English novel-reader. They neither aim highnor fall low: their gentle mediocrity is soothing; and they are notwithout those gleams of insight and intensity which reveal the gift ofthe born story-teller--a title to which Mrs. Henry Wood may well layclaim.
[Signature: Adeline Sergeant.]
LADY GEORGIANA FULLERTON MRS. STRETTON. ANNE MANNING
_By_ CHARLOTTE M. YONGE
Women Novelists of Queen Victoria's Reign: A Book of Appreciations Page 5