Charlotte Bronte and the Woman Question

Syrie James's Secret Diaries is generally quite accurate historically, and even the presentation of the early jostling between Charlotte and her father's new cleric, Arthur Bell Nicholls, may be on target. Still the emphasis on women's rights -- a major if still emerging issue already by the middle of the 19th century -- may give us a false sense of Charlotte's more complex and generally more conservative (Tory?) feelings. Charlotte's most famous utterance is a key passage in Jane Eyre, which we will get to later this term; her most complete statement may be a letter she wrote to her friend and future biographer, the novelist Elizabeth Gaskell, after reading a widely circulated, controversial article, "The Enfranchisement of Women," published in the liberal Westminster Review under the name of John Start Mill, a leading proponent of increased rights for women, but actually written by his wife, Harriet Taylor. (See more on the article here.)

Here is Charlotte's largely critical take on the Mill/Taylor piece, largely arguing for removing emotions (love) as the central concern of a woman's life:

Of all the articles respecting which you question me, I have seen none, except that notable one in the 'Westminster' on the Emancipation of Women. But why are you and I to think (perhaps I should rather say to FEEL) so exactly alike on some points that there can be no discussion between us? Your words on this paper express my thoughts. Well-argued it is,—clear, logical,—but vast is the hiatus of omission; harsh the consequent jar on every finer chord of the soul. What is this hiatus? I think I know; and, knowing, I will venture to say. I think the writer forgets there is such a thing as self-sacrificing love and disinterested devotion. When I first read the paper, I thought it was the work of a powerful-minded, clear-headed woman, who had a hard, jealous heart, muscles of iron, and nerves of bend[*] leather; of a woman who longed for power, and had never felt affection. To many women affection is sweet, and power conquered indifferent—though we all like influence won. I believe J. S. Mill would make a hard, dry, dismal world of it; and yet he speaks admirable sense through a great portion of his article—especially when he says, that if there be a natural unfitness in women for men's employment, there is no need to make laws on the subject; leave all careers open; let them try; those who ought to succeed will succeed, or, at least, will have a fair chance—the incapable will fall back into their right place. He likewise disposes of the 'maternity' question very neatly. In short, J. S. Mill's head is, I dare say, very good, but I feel disposed to scorn his heart. You are right when you say that there is a large margin in human nature over which the logicians have no dominion; glad am I that it is so.

Bartleby and the Psychopathology of Slacking

This prompt on the "male-centric" nature of Melville's novella elicited some powerful responses.

Here, for instance, is AML: "If I were forced to say whether this was a “male” or “female” narrator, I would have guessed a female authored this story based on the kindness and consideration shown to Bartleby at all times.   It is hard to imagine that most men would not react the way Mr. Nippers did, by threatening to blacken Bartleby’s eyes more than once when he refused to do what was asked of him."

But that's just the point of the strangeness of the story, especially it's fear of progress at its core. Compare Jane Eyre's frustration with feeling boxed in, with Bartleby's: Jane is bursting at the seams, to escape her restraints, rushing up to the rooftop to view just how far she can travel; Bartleby, meanwhile, is completely agoraphobic, would just as soon spend the rest of his life in a windowless closet.

What kind of man is that? we ask. But that's just the point, as I noted in the original prompt: Two bestsellers, a new wife, two new sons -- a whole life before him and yet Melville writes the extraordinary eerie tale of a much younger man who literally cannot go forward with his life (and with a female here we would always point to social factors limiting her mobility -- "If society were not so male dominated . . . ") and a much older and successful man (maybe the character Melville sees himself as possibly becoming) who for all his success is utterly unable to offer Bartleby (maybe a part of Melville's own fear of a success in the world he loathes) any solace whatsoever.

"Bartleby" is for me a tale about the psychopathology of slacking -- what can happen to someone who really has no place in either the world of work or family. This is clearly not the problem that 21-century women face in blending work and family; this is more of a problem of a gay male artist in a harshly homophobic 19th century, a place where someone like Melville may well have envisioned absolutely no place either for his art (and Melville's masterpiece Moby Dick was largely ignored on plbilcation, and he died in near total obscurity) or for his desire. Unlike Whitman who lived semi-openly with a Washington, D.C. streetcar conductor, Peter Doyle, from 1865 to his death in 1892, with Melville there is only the homosexual anguish of writings, like his late masterpiece, Billy Budd. (The photo here is a still from the 1962 film, starring a beautiful young Terrence Stamp as Billy and Robert Ryan as John Claggart, the fiercely repressed Master of Arms; Peter Ustinov, the film's director, plays the role of the Captain, a well-meaning but finally ineffectual man charged with resolving such issues, similar to Bartleby's lawyer.)

It seems to me that in his early thirties, Melville saw Bartleby and the lawyer as two equally unsatisfactory dead-ends. For all that, it is a tale whose full resolution escapes me and, for all its dark humor, that continues to haunt me even or because of its resistance to any neat, simplistic explanation.

A couple of notes

1. The Dead Letter Office is a real place, not just a symbol, and, alas, exists today, yes even in 2013, as the final repository for mail, lacking a return address, that cannot be delivered.
2. For this response we only had a single and abbreviated response from a male student.
   
   Clearly, the question is not whether or not women readers could appreciate, even empathize with the story -- one would expect the "typical" male to agree with Nippers and toss Bartleby out on his ear: For better or worse (in my view, almost always worse) men do seem to be more fully socialized into Weber's "iron cage" of capitalism, and hence have far less sympathy with those failing or otherwise chewed up by the system. Here, for instance, is what Wikipedia has to say about Tea Party membership in the U.S.: "Several polls have been conducted on the demographics of the movement. Though the various polls sometimes turn up slightly different results, they tend to show that Tea Party supporters tend more likely than Americans overall to be white, male, married, older than 45, regularly attending religious services, conservative, and to be more wealthy and have more education."
   
   Meanwhile I still do not see how the lawyer's puzzlement at his own unexpected sympathy for Bartleby (a would-be son) could be portrayed by a woman, from whom we would such symapthy for her misunderstood, cast-off son.
3. Meanwhile, there are plenty of female stories ahead for students who are interested, including a 400-level course on the Brontes this summer (2nd session) and a 400-level course ("The Age of Desire") in the fall, focusing on Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth and Henry James's masterpiece, Portrait of a Lady.
   

Shakers

The once prosperous (and now nearly extinct) religious community known as the Shakers played an important role in pre-industrial American life. You can read about their Culture and Artifacts here @ Wikipedia, and a fascinating video @ YouTube. Today Shakers may be best known for their classically simple furniture and for a single (simple) song: Here's a slightly jazzed-up version of the classic Shaker hymn, Simple Gifts.

The tune was also the basis of the John Williams piece performed at President Obama's first inauguration. The song may be better known for its melody than its lyrics--the melody being incorporated into one of the most beloved of American symphonic composition's: Aaron Copeland's Appalachian Spring. Here's a brief analysis of the piece @ NPR emphasizing the work's simplicity (There's also a link to a full perfomance, under "hear the Music'), and below are the original lyrics, written in 1848. Your job here: In your own words, describe the lasting appeal of the Shaker world--its artifacts, the song "Simple Gifts," or just general sense of the Shaker world.

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,

To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.