“Each of Charlotte’s major works, therefore, is reducible to a pattern that is regular and simple, and to a single dominant idea: the journey of the soul; the balance of male and female; and the failure of some gallant but ill-starred spirits to make the journey, or to achieve the balance which they desire.” (180)
- Elizabeth Imlay Charlotte Brontë and the Mysteries of Love: Myth and Allegory in Jane Eyre (1989)
“The split between male and female exists both in society and within individuals. Certain human qualities—strength, activity, life in the outer world—have been allocated to males, and certain others—compassion, emotion, and life within the self—to females. … But it is important to realize that this polarization is hurting the men as much as the women.” (53-4)
“Almost all characters who have any spiritual power, for good or ill, in these novels are androgynous at some point, and all the protagonists must become androgynous to some degree.” (3)
- Judith Williams Perception and Expression in the Novels of Charlotte Brontë (1988)
This month I have been reading Charlotte Brontë’s third novel, Shirley, exploring the narrative with an ear to what Imlay and Williamson assert in the books cited above, regarding psychic and existential balance of the self and the journey of the soul. While Imlay and Williamson are primarily addressing the 19th century culture in which Charlotte Brontë lived and wrote, the issue of balance – between the outward and inward worlds in which we live, dwell and act – which can be characterized loosely as between what has been called the ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ aspects of our being – is still a relevant subject of study, as it furthers the exploration of our ever-evolving self-expression today. While culturally defined, the concepts of ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ are full of import for the journey we are on, as the human animals we are—struggling toward an authentic being-in-becoming.
I have long understood the journey of the soul to be one of pilgriming toward ‘wholeness,’ reaching for integration of the various aspects of our persona and incorporating our interests and the things that inspire us, into a functioning, unified and dynamic mature self. Along the way, different spiritualities, as well as various philosophies and literatures, have aided me in this quest for wholeness. The journey will never be completed in this life, I have long known, yet the journey is best experienced with the dream of some kind of final – if never ultimate – integration being arrived at; one which is still changing in response to changes in our lives—yet bringing us to a point where we might be able to say, as I sometimes do, “I am everything and everyone I’ve ever been,” and I am _however imperfectly!
What literatures like the novels of the Brontë’s do for me is illustrate possible road-maps; some successful, many not – leading to the realization of some degree of wholeness for the characters who are hopefully pathing their own flourishment as the narrative unfolds. The novels of other writers – including Dickens, George Eliot, Thomas Hardy and – in the 20th century – J.R.R. Tolkien and Stephen King – have also shown me road-maps tending toward an integration of the self; a wholeness of soul that I have longed to achieve over the course of the last six decades. I have been inspired to read Shirley and, next, Villette – because of the way in which Imlay has deepened my understanding of Jane Eyre and the way in which Williamson has shown me some of the psychological and spiritual themes common to Charlotte’s four novels.
While quite different from Jane Eyre in tone and structure, the narrative unfolded in Shirley incorporates key themes characteristic of that previous novel. Just as in Jane Eyre, the Moon comes into play in the experience of characters in numerous chapters; it seems to function as a signifier of mystical consciousness as well as functioning as a ‘character’ at certain points in the story. The lunar influence in the narrative illumines the action of various characters at especially significant moments, as well as being a naturalistic presence within the scene. Nature is also a significant referent, referred to as a ‘goddess;’ as in Jane Eyre—being revered as such, herein, especially by Shirley Keeldar and her friend Caroline Helstone. There are also numerous references to fairies, which I will explore in a later blog.
I realized as I started into the novel what was so different about Shirley, after several months of immersion in Jane Eyre. I immediately felt that I was reading a ‘social novel,’ not a Gothic or Romanticist story; those genres being more appropriately applied to Jane Eyre. This experience continued up to the point where the titular character – Shirley Keeldar – enters the tale. At that point, the structure of the story began to be modulated at particular points; the tone also becoming more animated. While many chapters through the rest of the novel continue to be ‘social’ and ‘historical’ in tone, there is a certain felt sense of uplift in scenes where the Moon, Nature and the creative imagination of the characters comes into play! There are what I would call ‘poetic experiences’ and even a couple experiences that I would definitely characterize as ‘mystical,’ having an element of self-transcendence and an encounter with Mystery to them.
Beginning in Chapter XI, “Fieldhead” – where Shirley Keeldar is first introduced in the narrative – the sociohistorical tone of the earlier chapters begins to be ‘interrupted’ at various points by a different kind of consciousness. Shirley functions as a kind of catalyst. The ongoing social narrative, in chapter after chapter, is ‘transcended’ at moments by experiences having a more poetic, imaginative and even mystical ambience. It is as if a mystical awareness suddenly breaks into the narrative of daily life, human struggle and pathos—but then ‘passes away,’ returning the reader to that more ordinary realm with which we are all too familiar. While other characters have such experiences in one degree or another, Caroline Helstone and Shirley Keeldar seem to be at the crux of these narrative interstices.
For me these strange experiences evoke a more Gothic and Romanticist mood; and – I would say – a fairy mood as well (an idea I will also address in that ‘later’ blog). Charlotte has strewn this narrative with chapters wherein the Moon, fairies, and the seasons come into play and lift the consciousness of the characters – not to mention the reader! – to some new level of spiritual, psychological and even mystical apprehension. One of the questions this raises is why this is the case. Why did Charlotte Brontë choose this narrative approach and structure for Shirley? At the very least, what can we surmise from our experience of the text and the story as it stands?
Because of the reverence in the story toward Nature, it is significant that, as in Jane Eyre, the narrative of Shirley consciously moves the characters through the seasons. There are significant symbolic resonances between the action of the story and the season in which it is presented. Robert Moore’s arc begins in Winter, passes through Spring, Summer, Autumn, into another Winter and ends in the Spring; very similar to that of Rochester in Jane Eyre. Other characters seem to enter the seasonal cycle at different points, each having their particular resolution and/or dénouement at an appropriate point along the way, though I have not carefully tracked this yet. It seems to me, however, that Robert’s seasonal journey is ‘basic’ to the novel; that is, it backgrounds, in a way, the journey of the other characters. If you have read the novel, what do you think of this?
Shirley also has in common with Jane Eyre the theme of characters seeking balance; of being on a journey of the soul—some possibly realizing a better balance, others not so much, by the time the story ends. This journey is usually being played out unintentionally; no one ever says, “I’m on a journey of the soul.” It manifests out of their life-praxis via engaged experience. The two vectors along which this theme of balance flows is (1) that between their ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ sides; their ‘anima’ and ‘animus’ if you want to use the classic Jungian terms,[1] and (2) that between their outward and inward orientations in their life experience, situation and action. While, as Williamson notes, men were at that time supposed to be identified with the outward world (‘masculine’), whereas women were to be identified with the inward world (‘feminine’), there is a tendency in this text toward balancing the poles of these oppositions in the life-experience of several of the characters, as well as there being characters who are more identified, without condemnation, with characteristics usually associated with the opposite sex.
There are women, for instance, who are more identified with the ‘masculine archetype’ and with the outward world – Shirley herself being one – and men who are identified with the ‘feminine archetype.’ One such male character is Rev Cyril Hall, who serves food at the outdoor Whitsuntide Tuesday event and picnic; perhaps the only man doing so amongst all of the women and young girls there would have been serving that function at such an event. Another would be Robert’s brother Louis Moore; a tutor and someone deeply connected with Nature and who is satisfied, at least until his transformed situation at the end of the novel, with living within what others might consider ‘narrow’ horizons. The narrator says of him at the beginning of Chapter XXIX:
“Louis Moore was used to a quiet life: being a quiet man, he endured it better than most men would: having a large world of his own in his own head and heart, he tolerated confinement to a small, still corner of the real world very patiently.” (522)[2]
The quiet life, being a quiet person, and living in a still, small corner of the world are all characteristics that would have been more associated with the ‘feminine,’ inward life at that time, at least in the dominant culture, and therefore with women. That he already has a semblance of balance within his being, however, is shown in his having a world in both his head and his heart; not simply in one or the other. The ‘head’ – mind, intellect, rationality – would have been thought of as ‘masculine,’ whereas the ‘heart’ – the seat of emotion, compassion, care for others and even spirituality – would have been associated with the ‘feminine’ and thus with women. Louis is attributed with both of these attributes.
Then there are the curates, introduced in the first chapter – Mr Malone, Mr Donne and Mr Sweeting – the first two of whom are acting out an immature version of an outgoing, ‘masculine’ character in un-self-conscious, ‘post-adolescent’ ways, while Mr Sweeting – though, I assume, the same age – is perhaps more expressive of the inward, ‘feminine’ element in his character than are his two fellow curates; being considerate, compassionate, and humble in a not-self-deprecating way, while not being ‘unmanly.’ Caroline Helstone is more clearly acting out of the ‘feminine’ side of her being, while her uncle – Rev Helstone – is more balanced on the outward-going ‘masculine’ side. Robert Moore is also more characteristically ‘masculine,’ living the outward life of a mill-owner; active in the community and believing himself to be self-sufficient. This latter aspect of his character is manifest in his discussion with Malone at the mill very early in the novel, when he says he likes to eat and sleep at the mill, and to have food he himself prepares, so as “not to be dependent on the femininity in the cottage yonder [i.e., where he lives with his sister, Hortense] for every mouthful I eat or every drop I drink.” (25) Yet he also participates in at least one of the characteristics of those who have incorporated ‘feminine’ attributes into their evolving self: he is friends with animals and kind to them. In one passage, his relationship with the black cat and the dog at the Rectory – where Caroline lives with her uncle – is described. She says:
“He quietly strokes the cat, and lets her sit while he confidently can, and when he must disturb her by rising, he puts her softly down, and never flings her from him roughly; he always whistles to the dog and gives him a caress.” (219)
This is put forth as a positive character trait, and one of which Shirley approves, especially after Caroline’s revelation that she is describing Robert; a man Shirley is growing to admire. More on this later in this blog.
What I am thinking – now that Imlay and Williamson have reminded me of this way of looking at characters in a story; in terms of gender and their mixture of the ‘masculine’ (outward-directed) and ‘feminine’ (inward directed) ‘archetypes’ – is that Charlotte Brontë, via her narrator, never criticizes a man for expressing aspects of the ‘feminine archetype,’ nor a woman for expressing aspects of the ‘masculine archetype.’ Characters in the story may do so, but in these cases the narrative is implicitly critical of them and their aspersions! As such balancing contributes to their lived-in pathing of self-realization and wholeness, for the rest of this blog I want to look at all the instances in the novel I can find where a movement toward this balancing of the self is apparently suggested.
Shirley herself is quite interesting in this regard. She doesn’t come fully into the story until chapter 12; which surprised me! (Often a character after which a novel is named will be mentioned at least in the first few pages?). When she does enter the narrative, she is described as “the heiress of Fieldhead” and “Shirley Keeldar, Esq., the Lord of the Manor of Briarfield.” (210, emphasis mine). She says she even thinks of herself as being like a man, in being the only heir to the estate; there having been no male heirs—and being engaged in so many things – business, politics, economics – that were traditionally men’s roles. Her name reflects this orientation toward the masculine, as ‘Shirley’ was at that time a man’s name. In Chapter XI the narrator points this out in a character sketch of Ms. Keeldar:
“Shirley Keeldar (she had no Christian name but Shirley: her parents, who had wished to have a son, finding that, after eight years of marriage, Providence had granted them only a daughter, bestowed on her the same masculine family cognomen they would have bestowed on a boy, if with a boy they had been blessed).” (204)
Though she is once reprimanded by her former governess; her current companion—for being willing to think of herself in ‘masculine’ terms, the narrative itself does not undermine Shirley’s self-identification. That character, Mrs Pryor, says at one point:
“My dear, do not allow that habit of alluding to yourself as a gentleman to be confirmed; it is a strange one. Those who do not know you, hearing you speak thus, would think you affected masculine manners.” (210)
Shirley’s response is to stand quietly by the window, not wanting to laugh at – much less outright criticize – her former governess; listening to the birds chirruping—which she then began to emulate as if joining in their song. This also brought a response from Mrs Pryor, who clearly thinks a woman whistling is doing something more appropriate to men. Shirley responds:
“Was I whistling? … I forgot. I beg your pardon ma’am. I had resolved to take care not to whistle before you.” (211)
Note that she doesn’t say ‘oh that’s very unfeminine of me, I shan’t do it again.’ She just won’t whistle in front of Mrs Pryor! Furthermore, Shirley’s listening to the birds and imitating their song can be understood as her also being in-touch with the ‘feminine’ side of her persona. Love of animals; love of Nature—in the social world of the novel, would have been understood as within the ‘feminine’ realm. As such, Shirley is already balancing aspects of the ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ in her journey of the soul.
In Chapter 14, when Shirley is attempting to arrange some benevolence for the unemployed workers and other hungry and suffering people of the area, she gets the rectors of local churches together to help her. Once a plan is settled on – how the money will be put into a fund, how the rectors will attempt to enlarge the fund through donations, and how they will distribute funds to those most in need in their parishes – they respond with respect and praise toward Shirley, who directed the whole effort, saying, as the narrator reports:
“Captain Keeldar was complimented on his taste; the compliment charmed him; it had been his aim to gratify and satisfy his priestly guests: he had succeeded, and was radiant with glee.” (277)
This refers to Shirley, who is called ‘Captain’ and referred to throughout the sentence by male pronouns! When I first read this, I admit, I thought for a second ‘who in the world is ‘Captain Keeldar!’ I laughed at my own reaction, once I realized what Charlotte was doing; affirming Shirley’s understanding of herself in ‘masculine’ terms—which is here accepted and reflected back by the rectors, who willingly and uncritically call her “Captain.” No one in the story is said to criticize them for this, much less her for accepting the praise. Perhaps you could say that Shirley is here being recognized as ‘affecting masculine manners,’ at least by the rectors of the manor – and it is, apparently, not a problem.
In Chapter XV the curates are back in the story, and we have them compared based on their reaction to the canine companion of Shirley – the mastiff Tartar – who is described as basically harmless, but whom Shirley attributes with having the virtue of being a good judge of character. Mr Malone and Mr Donne both irritate the dog by their behavior immediately upon their arrival, because of the way they carry themselves and how they react to the dog! They are thus barked and growled at by the canine, though they are not actually in any danger, as it turns out. Nevertheless, they aggravate the mastiff further by their behavior, fearing to be hurt by the ‘angered’ animal! Malone actually strikes it with a cane! Donne runs upstairs for safety! After calming Tartar down, Shirely assures her young guests that he wouldn’t even hurt a cat (280). Mr Donne – after he is brought down from the upstairs room and is joining the picnic, suggests to her that the brute should be hung and that Shirley should purchase for herself “some sweetly pooty pug or poodle; something appropriate to the fair sex; ladies generally like lap dogs.” (283) To this Shirley indicates she is ‘perhaps’ an exception to the rule, to which Donne says, expressing the social conventions of his time, and making his own unquestioned socialization baldly manifest:
“Oh! You can’t be, you know. All ladies are alike in those matters: that is universally allowed.” (283)
But Shirley is an exception to many conventions regarding her gender; being somewhat balanced on the ‘masculine’ side without being out-of-touch with her ‘feminine’ side. Again, it is one of the characters who states the conventional view, not Charlotte Brontë in the voice of her narrator.
Later, when Mr Sweeting comes in with his rector, the Rev Cyril Hall, the young man graciously greets the ‘brute’ – as Donne would later call him – who “snuffed both the gentlemen round, and then, as if concluding that they were harmless, and might be allowed to pass, he retreated to the front of the hall, leaving the archway free” (284-5). This contrast between Malone and Donne’s reaction to Tartar, and Tartar’s to them, and later Sweeting’s – points to a degree of immaturity on the part of the first two curates – and their inbred ‘masculine’ reaction to the dog (Fight it! Attack it! Conflict!) – while showing Sweeting to have a somewhat better grounded and potentially more balanced persona where the expression of the masculine and feminine ‘archetypes’ were concerned. He is portrayed as more like a boy than either Malone or Donne, which also adds to understanding Sweeting as more balanced toward the feminine end of the spectrum; as children in general were often seen to be so balanced at that time.
This relationship between a person and animals is portrayed earlier in the novel, when Shirley and Caroline are out walking in Nunnwood; “the sole remnant of an antique British forest” (213) which conceals a ruined nunnery. They are discussing what kind of man they would consider worth marrying, if they ever married. [There is a lot of hesitancy about marriage and getting married in this story! Something I might also try and analyze in a blog.] They like walking alone together, as two women, with no man present, and they make the observation that “the presence of gentlemen dispels the last charm,” (215) which refers to the charm of Nature that they are experiencing in the depths of that ancient wood! It would cause them distraction, they suggest, leading to their forgetfulness of Nature; which is the all-embracing Mother with whom they are communing. When pressed for what ‘rules’ Shirley would abide in selecting a husband, she winsomely tells Caroline of the ‘soothsayers’ to whom she would listen to in this regard. They are:
“the little Irish beggar that comes barefoot to my door; the mouse that steals out of the cranny in the wainscot; the bird that in frost and snow pecks at my window for a crumb; the dog that licks my hand and sits beside my knee.” (219)
This reference to animals makes me almost think of Shirley as having ‘familiars,’ as witches and other Pagans sometimes do; animals who help their human friends to divine wise choices and wisening pathways through life. The Irish beggar might well refer to Saint Patrick as representing an earthen humility. Notice that Shirley does not disparage the beggar or send him away from her door. She expects wisdom from her encounter with him! Is she referring to a specific person, do you think? Or is it a type she is referencing? That the beggar is barefoot suggests someone in touch with the Earth; a common signifier with regard to saints. The reference to her listening to the ‘advice’ of a mouse, a bird and a dog has resonances also with Saint Francis; another barefoot beggar—as well as with some of the old Celtic saints. What Shirely implies by proposing these ‘soothsayers’ is that she needs the humility to discern whether a man is fit for her to marry. She also needs to be in communion with Nature. Notice also that she and Caroline are the ones seeking the right kind of man to marry; they are not – as in some novels of the time – pining over which male admirer is going to propose to them! Caroline proposes that she knows someone who fits that ideal, and this is the context in which the reference to the black cat and the dog, cited earlier, stand. Here is the full exchange:
"We have a black cat and an old dog at the Rectory. I know somebody whose knee that black cat loves to climb; against whose shoulder and cheek it likes to purr. The old dog always comes out of his kennel and wags his tail, and whines affectionately when somebody passes.”
“And what does that somebody do?"
While this passage speaks to the theme of compassion in Shirley, which surfaces in numerous places, Robert’s familiarity with the cat – an animal closely associated with women and the feminine – shows that Robert is not lost in his ‘animus.’ It also points to the understanding of these ‘archetypes’ as neither being mutually exclusive nor totally independent of one another. Every person, according to sources I’ve read over the years on the ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ as ‘archetypes,’ is composed of some mixture of the two. They exist on a spectrum. Most people, it would seem, tend toward one end of the spectrum or the other in their personal self-expression. A fully balanced person – whom Williamson would call the “androgyne” – integrates both, to some degree or other, becoming a fuller expression of their human nature than when only manifesting from one end of the spectrum or the other.
What do you think of this as an aspect of one’s journey toward wholeness?
Back again to the tea party following the incident with Tartar, Caroline – who has known Rev Hall for years – asks him to come and sit beside her, which he gladly does. He then relates to Shirley a story of how, when Caroline was first asked to serve tea at a social event, she was nervous and shaking, and so, he says:
“I came to her aid, took a seat near her, managed the urn and the slop-basin, and in fact made tea for her like any old woman.” (287)
Once again, the narrative does not criticize him for either characterizing himself in this way or playing this role; one usually attributed to women—nor is he presented as uneasy with the analogy himself. This past-moment was the beginning of his and Caroline’s long friendship, which continues strong at the time of the story.
A little later in the story, we get another instance of Shirley being given ‘a man’s job.’ On the eve of the attack on Hollow Mill – owned and run by Robert Moore – Shirley is asked by Rev Helstone – Caroline’s uncle – to stay with Caroline at their house, as he would not be sleeping there and thus there would be no one else at home but the maids. He wants to make sure Caroline and the others at the house are going to be safe. Shirley complies, confirming her understanding of the request, saying:
“Now, you want me as a gentleman – the first gentleman in Briarfield, in short, to supply your place, be master of the Rectory, and guardian of your niece and maids while you are away.” (339)
Rev Helstone’s reply is striking for the time, I think. Far from thinking her presumptuous, he says: “Exactly captain: I thought the post would suit you.” That she is addressed here as ‘Captain’ shows that Helstone acknowledges her masculine capabilities, and that the address from the earlier reference – where they were preparing charitable acts – was not just the narrator’s perspective. Then, when warning of possible trouble in the night, confident she would know what to do, he says of her:
“I need not fear to tell you, who bear a well-tempered heart under your girl’s ribbon-sash, that such little incidents are very possible in the present time.” (339)
There may be serious trouble in the night to come, and he tells her so, as he does not think of her as someone who would retreat from danger or harm. This is another trait usually attributed to men in the time and culture of this story. The ‘feminine’ side of Shirley is then alluded to in dual and complementary terms; “well-tempered heart” and “your girl’s ribbon sash.” She is only 21 years old, and may actually be wearing a ribbon sash (a colorful band of material, usually draped from one shoulder to the opposite hip, or tied around the waist), as they had just been at a festive event, though this referent also functions as a metaphor for her feminine self-expression. A “well-tempered heart” would refer to an inward life that has been fruitful of aiding in her maturation along the feminine ‘archetypal’ path as Shirley grew up and entered the world; taking on the responsibilities at Fieldhead as its “Lord.”
Shirley agrees to guard and protect the house and its occupants – but demands that she must be armed. Mr Helstone, not put-off by this request either, first suggests a certain knife kept in the kitchen, “a lady’s knife, light to handle” (340) for her, but Shirley demands “a brace of pistols.” Mr Helstone does not baulk at this young woman asking for guns, nor does the narrative criticize her for such a request, which would be understood ‘normally’ as a man’s prerogative! He immediately tells her where to find a pair at the house, assuming Shirley will know how to use them, which it turns out she does!
The idea that a man would arm a woman with his pistols and leave her in charge of his house certainly goes against Victorian conventions of the time. Pistols were considered a ‘man’s weapon;’ a knife being more ‘fit’ for a woman. We can infer that Charlotte had no problem with this, however, given the narrative as presented. Shirley arms herself at the house and is ready even to defend its residents against trooping rioters heading for the mill, though realizing – and expressing – that if the rioters had entered the house, she and Caroline would certainly have been outnumbered and in grave or even mortal danger! Nevertheless, she keeps her head through the entire scene. During their vigil, Caroline, who is balanced more on the feminine side of her psyche, arms herself with the “lady’s knife” from the kitchen.
The day after the attack on the mill, Shirley is attempting to help-out by sending provisions for the soldiers who stood with Robert and Mr Helstone, as well as for the injured rioters, whom Robert has taken into the mill and for whom he has summoned a doctor! While describing the aftermath to Shirley, Robert says:
“Mr Hall – your favorite parson – has been with them ever since six o’clock, exhorting them, praying with them, and even waiting on them like any nurse.” (368)
As when he was preparing tea for Caroline, like “any old woman,” here Mr. Hall is once again presented in a role usually filled by women. It also impressed me, here, how Robert acts out of a real compassion for the injured men, who had just been in a gun-fight with him and his associates, which included not only men from Briarfield but also a half-dozen red-coats sent from a local barracks by a Colonel Ryde to help the mill-owner in his defense of the mill. Robert takes the men who had just been trying to kill him and burn down his mill into the mill and with his own men takes care of them. Here is another point at which Robert acts out of what would have been considered a more ‘feminine’ aspect of his persona; a compassionate, caring and forgiving act. This shows that, as everyone is composed of some degree of the masculine and the feminine ‘archetypes,’ Robert – who is generally aligned with the masculine aspects – is able to act out of his ‘feminine side.’
Later, when Caroline is ‘ill’ and confined to her bed, with Mrs Pryor in attendance, her uncle Mr Helstone brings her a cup of tea, at which Mrs Pryor says: “… your uncle made it himself. You know he says he can make a better cup of tea than any housewife can.” (43) Now, here it is a matter of Mrs Pryor repeating what Mr Helstone says that he can do, though whether it is true or not we do not know; the characters do not confirm or disconfirm it. If it is true, then he himself is expressing an aspect of the feminine ‘archetype,’ though he – like Robert – usually expresses himself more on the masculine side. Where Rev Helstone is concerned, the narrative – which alludes to his deceased wife and his relationship with her – allows that this background may in some way give him reason to be enacting ‘feminine’ aspects, doing things his wife would have done for him? He is a widower, and the woman who might usually make their tea – Caroline – is now the recipient. Yet he must have had practice making tea, to have made the claim to his expertise. This is one of the many interesting character complexities that leave this reader reflecting on the meaning of the story.
Later, as Robert is recovering from a gunshot wound, being nursed at the Yorke house, Caroline has some interesting intrigues with Martin Yorke; a boy of 15 – who helps her get into his house to see Robert; as the nurse and Mrs Yorke keep visitors away from ‘their patient.’ Martin – who appears earlier in the book as an adolescent who despises women, is in these chapters beginning to find some affection in his heart for Caroline. When she admits to him who her mother really is – recently revealed in the novel – Martin exclaims: “Not possible – or so inefficient, so careless a mamma – I should make a five times better one.” (595)
Martin a ‘mamma?’ Perhaps this can be seen simply as an adolescent outburst in frustration; forcing him to re-align his understanding of two of the women in his lived-in-world – or is this perhaps a signifier of the feminine anima breaking-forth from his as-yet immature soul? In close analysis, there is nothing to say it need be anything other than just an expostulation aimed at getting Caroline to like him, by dis-affirming her actual, good mother. Martin, however, is reading fairy stories shortly before this encounter, and at one point – before their first meeting in the woods – mistakes Caroline in her approach toward him as a Fairy Lady. As such, he participates in fairy fantasies, which may be working on him to bring out a more accepting love for womankind? _More on this in a later blog!
Late in the book, Louis – Robert’s brother; the tutor of young Henry Sympson and earlier of Shirley – says of the boy’s mother:
“I have long since earned her undying mother’s gratitude by my devotion to her boy; in some of Henry’s ailments I have nursed him – better, she said, than any woman could nurse: she will never forget that.” (634)
Louis, like Shirley, is a person who has a somewhat more balanced ‘anima’ and ‘animus;’ their ‘feminine’ aspects each blended in with their ‘masculine’ ones. Louis, as a private tutor, hiring himself out to families and living in ‘small corners’ of the world, plays a role more often filled by women in his society. A male tutor was not an anomaly (Charlotte’s brother had been a private tutor for a short time), but they were less often known than women in the role as governesses. Here Louis is expressing a more ‘feminine’ trait; that of being a nurse to a child—again an expression of compassion, care and the giving of oneself for another’s good; something more associated with the feminine ‘archetype’ and with women in the society of that time.
These are all of the references I have found as yet in Shirley to masculine aspects in female characters and feminine aspects in male characters. This speaks to me of characters on their way to wholeness; beginning to balance the inner (feminine) and outer (masculine) aspects of their human nature. However, I do not think any of the characters in the story achieve a genuinely balanced psyche; there are no androgynes in this story—to use Imlay’s term for the fully balanced persona. Robert and Caroline complement one another, and in the end are married. While they might constitute the semblance of an androgyne in their becoming ‘one’ in marriage, given what happens at the end of the novel’s final chapter, it would seem that Caroline and Robert do not mutually mature into balanced personae; at least, not by that time. While Robert says in the last chapter that he intends to talk with Caroline about his plans for Briarfield, her protests against his intentions in that scene do not appear to have stopped Robert from doing just what he intended. (More on this in the next blog.)
As to Louis and Shirley, they seem to complement one another more than do Robert and Caroline. All through the story, it is apparent that while Shirley is balanced more on the masculine side, she is not unfeminine. Likewise, while Louis is balanced more on the feminine side, he is not unmasculine. Louis gives up being a tutor in anticipation of their being married, and after the wedding takes on some of the responsibilities of being “Lord of the Manor of Briarfield” from Shirley, which connects him more with the masculine ‘archetype,’ whereas of Shirley we hear very little. It would seem from the verbal sparring match they had in Chapter XXXVI – “Written in the Schoolroom” pp. 617 – 623 – through which they worked themselves up, as two very independent people, to an agreement to marry – that Shirley was still resolved to only marry a man who could be a guide to wisdom for her; not someone – as a couple of her suitors would have been – she would have had to master and lead through life. She is willing to be Louis’ “pupil” again, but far from simply ‘conforming to the norms of her society’ as a married woman, I think it is implied that she would continue to be an independent person, in a more or less balanced relationship with Louis. She is in the process of becoming an androgyne, as is Louis. The end of the novel, however, might indicate that they both still have a long way to go.
Next, I want to turn to the last chapter of Shirley and explore therein some of these themes further.
[1] I am here using Williamson’s distinction between the outward and inward life – identified with men and women respectively – as a cypher for the use of the terms ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine,’ which I have not here explicitly defined. Therefore, I have tried to put ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ – as well as ‘archetype’ – in ‘scare quotes’ throughout the text. My understanding of these terms as well as the Jungian terms ‘anima’ and ‘animus,’ and ‘archetypes,’ stems from readings in the 1980’s and early 1990’s on Goddess spirituality as well as feminist archetypal criticism, which was apparently popular at that time as part of what has been termed “The Second Wave of Feminism.” I acknowledge that the use of ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ may not map succinctly onto the ideas of the “outward” and “inward” life as Williamson describes. This distinction, however, seems to work well for this analysis.
[2] All quotes taken from Charlotte Brontë Shirley and The Professor (New York and London: Alfred A. Knopf, 2008; “Everyman’s Library” Edition)
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