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Mary Barton by Elizabeth Gaskell - Group Read (hosted by Claudia) 1st thread

I started Mary Barton by listening to the audio, but I was missing some of the little details being discussed, so I’ve switched to the ebook. I’m going to go back to the audio just to hear how the narrator reads Oldham Weaver.

I must say that this is not a slow start and Gaskell has given us a lot to chew on from the very first chapter. A mystery, death of a child, impending birth, sickly twins, as well as the most important theme of the poor contrasted to the genteel. I am already highly invested and curious to know where Mary will wind up in her life. I am wondering if her hope and dreams for a life beyond the status quo of the mill workers family will come to fruition. Can a girl make her own way to better things or is she doomed to the lifestyle she was born into.
Claudia, I actually enjoy the interjections of Gaskell using I and you as a narrator. I assumed it was Gaskell’s way of putting herself into the narrative which we know Dickens was fond of doing. Although as you say, she is much more serious than Dickens who was rather sarcastic in his social implications.
Enjoying this very much so far!

Indeed, Mrs. Gaskell gave a voice to the often unheard in her novel, during a time when the social support and benefits we are familiar with today did not exist.
Kathleen: Indeed, we may miss a bit while hearing this novel as an audiobook. Still I followed your advice and listened to this chapter read by a British English reader who did quite well with the reading of the ballad.
Lori: I remember that you were out and about! Thank you for having the patience to read my posts. I am delighted that you enjoy reading Mary Barton and I agree on the questions you raised. Enjoy the rest of your stay! I am looking forward to your further comments!

Yes Connie Esther's disappearance is certainly a shock for Mary and indeed the doctor's words may be thought-provo..."
Sorry to be absent for a couple of days.
Chapter 3 is heartbreaking in many ways. I did not see Mary's death, and the baby's, coming.
Mary Barton, the mother, kept the family grounded and stable. Upon her death, her husband becomes serious and "deeply changed" and her daughter is given liberties that changed her forever, too. Whether for good or bad, I guess we'll find out.
Gaskell has very seriously put the workers' situation in front of us. They are pawns for the business owners and not given any consideration or thought by their bosses. In good times or bad times, the workers are living in hard times. The business owners, in contrast, live well during these good or bad times. It's the workers who are vulnerable to the changes of economy, life and circumstances. The rich keep on going, not much seeing the changes around them.
Mary's situation as a dressmaker seems a bit precarious. It's too bad that John didn't take Mary with him when he visited the higher end stores. Perhaps she would have landed in a better situation. The first two years without pay are outrageous....yet Mary seems okay with it, so perhaps it was common in these times.
As Claudia said, this is a very serious piece of writing. There is no humor in it, yet it's told with caring and depth. There is feeling here for the Bartons and their situation, as well as for the workers in general.

Mary Barton is now 17. Another year has passed and the young girl and her father have come to terms with their loss, although they still mourn Mrs Barton in silence. ..."
Elizabeth Gaskell is filling these chapters with details and information. It's intense and deep, in that she is very good at describing the hardships of the working people.
Poor Alice! She worked for others, gave her life to them to make them happy, healthy and fit....then is tossed aside when the it's convenient for the mistress (she left the town). There's no gratitude or thankfulness for the time Alice gave the family, how Alice kept the family business from falling into the hands of the drinking husband or how much time Alice lost with her own family. To this family that Alice worked for, she was not even seen as a person.
I like Margaret. She's so kind and empathetic. Her sickly appearance is troubling. I hope she finds a way to better health.
Mary is at an odd age. I'd say she's become vain but at that age one would want to look good and look towards a brighter future. I'm finding her a bit full of herself but it may just be her age and lack of motherly attention. She basically raised herself after her mother's death.
Jean, thanks for the information on the Societies. I thought it must be some kind of fellowship where the neighbourhood stood together but your information makes it much clearer.

"....; and unconscious of the fact, that she was far superior in sense and spirit to the mother she mourned."
How and/or why is Mary "far superior in sense and spirit" than her mother? The sentence implies that Mary doens't know or realize this but that it is....somehow....true.

As Claudia mentioned, Mary has a strange and strong repulsion of Jem. It's interesting and curious.

Ling is another variant or name for heather. The branches or sticks that the girls collected were tied into besoms, which are brooms.
Interesting. I didn't realize that heather was used for making brooms.

"....; and unconscious of the fact, that she was far superior in sense and spirit to the mother she mourned."
How and/or ..."
Good question Petra. I took it to mean that she was smarter and had more spirit than her mother, but I would not swear to it. The whole passage seems to be saying that Mary thought that if her mother was alive, her mother would be able to help her with all the things that bothered and perplexed her, like she did when Mary was a child. But she does not realize that her more adult problems are not as simple as those she had as a child. And her mother, having less sense and sprit than her daughter, would probably not have the answers she seeks. Anyway, that was my interpretation. I'd be interested to hear anyone else's thoughts.

I found it to be a very curious, strange and unnecessary comment about a dead woman and that made it stand out for me.
Yes, that was a sad paragraph because it showed how much Mary missed her mother's guidance and would have appreciated & benefitted from it. I suspect that Mary's upcoming story might stem from the lack of motherly guidance and advice.

Thank you Petra for all your pertinent comments and thoughts.
Indeed some varieties of heather may be adequate for brooms, as is yellow "broom" itself (Cytisus Scoparius and its under-species) that was used for brooms. Hence a colloquial phrase in French "Il a quarante balais", i.e. "He has forty brooms", that means "he is 40 years old". This comes from the time a broom was worn out after one year, while plants were drying to make a new one.
Indeed the comment about Mrs Barton was, in my opinion too, unnecessary but Katy's opinion about it may be also right.
However we must bear in mind that it is Elizabeth Gaskell's first novel. I felt that it is instinctively and brilliantly written, brimming with details and thorough descriptions, be it material or psychological!
A friend of mine who read it earlier at the same pace as we do, told me that she had noticed a few tiny discrepancies we would not have seen otherwise.
Thanks a lot all for your insightful comments!

Mary visits Job Legh, Margaret's grandfather, who, like some famous Mancunians, is a handloom weaver with a passion for insects and plants. Mary sees for the first time a room full of books and frames of mounted insects and all sorts of strange and mysterious tools. Job Legh himself is atypical, moving like a puppet on a string and showing motherly love to his granddaughter.
Margaret is now friends with Mary and the two girls spend much time together. Margaret visits Mary, bringing her needlework and sitting there until Job Legh comes to fetch her to go home. The older man - he has no teeth - visits John Barton.
Mary has now found a reliable friend and a feminine mentor with whom to share her secrets, except one: she has a lover, "a gallant, handsome young man", but i><"not beloved". Many boys are attracted to pretty Mary, but she keeps them at arm's length and, in their opinion, "keeps herself too high".
Jem Wilson is a quiet and timid lover. He loves Mary but says nothing, "hopes against hope" (a Scripture reference to Romans 4:18) and "would not give up". John Barton would welcome a match between them, although Mary is still very young. Jem is "a steady workman at a good trade, a good son to his father".
The end of February 'that year' is a difficult time for everyone in Manchester, when a ”bitter black frost” and a “bleak east wind chilled and paralysed the population. There was almost no water, as every single pool or spring was chilled, and washerwomen had to break ice to get water for washing. Many Mancunians died - Margaret reports many orders for mourning dresses during a busy evening at Barton's. She is working on four such gowns in a beautiful bombazine for a Mrs Ogden, the wife of the greengrocer in Oxford Road. Her husband has drunk himself to death. The two girls talk about how Mrs Ogden organises an expensive mourning breakfast of ham and fowl, while she now must look after her three daughters and several other children. Margaret thinks she will never be paid for this work, but she says it is her way of doing her little bit to ease their grief.
Margaret tells Mary her secret: she is gradually going blind and has consulted doctors who have confirmed it. She has not told her grandfather, who she knows would be distraught. Margaret prays for God's mercy and weeps at the thought of what would happen to them, especially her grandfather, as her sewing is a valuable source of income for both. She has taken lessons from one Jacob Butterworth, a notorious handweaver turned singer, and hopes to become a singer and support her grandfather, who often takes days off for his entomological and botanical excursions into the countryside, buying specimens for a few shillings. Margaret is happy to see her grandfather happy and would never stop him from pursuing his scientific passion.
As the two girls discuss this, a crowd of people rush outside to see a huge fire burning in Carson's mill. Mary wants to see it. "A burning mill is such a grand sight. I have never seen one." Margaret has a different reaction: "It's a terrible thing", while John Barton, whom they meet on the street, observes that the Carsons are well insured and that the machinery is old.
Nevertheless, the fire burns apocalyptically, threatening the streets, shops and houses nearby, fanned by a fierce wind and impossible to stop for lack of water. Margaret and Mary are frightened but cannot go home as they are surrounded by a dense crowd. Two men are trapped in the burning mill on a higher level. George Wilson is one of them. His son Jem takes enormous risks by climbing a ladder between the burning mill and a neighbouring building to rescue his father and the other man, carrying his father on his shoulders and returning to rescue the other man. Jem is hailed as a hero.
Mary faints, but when she comes to, with Margaret taking great care of her, she meets George Wilson, who asks Mary to say a good word to Jem "for his sake" when they meet the next day. When Margaret and Mary go home, John Barton is sitting and smoking, at first not interested in what has happened. However, he becomes increasingly interested in the girls' account and decides that he would give his daughter away to Jem if the young man asked. Margaret laughs, but Mary looks angry and sulks.
The girls spend the rest of the night working on Mrs Ogden's commission.

We have met atypical characters who live near the Bartons, but who are very different from them. Yet Job Legh and his granddaughter have one thing in common with John Barton and Mary: both are incomplete families living in precarious material conditions.
Job Legh is an unexpected archetype of a weaver who spends his spare time and some of his financial resources on his passion. He is extremely curious and original, as evidenced when he buys a scorpion in a bottle from a sailor in Liverpool who has just returned from a hot country. Once at home, the scorpion turned out to be asleep in its cold surroundings and suddenly woke up in the warm room. Job seems to live in a world of his own - perhaps as an escape from a difficult life?
Yet we see that he loves Margaret very much, and it is palpable in the way he speaks to her as if he were a mother. We feel that their relationship is very strong when Margaret cries in the terrible expectation of being blind and unable to help provide for her grandfather, and stares at his face to remember his features in the next future of her blindness. Mrs Gaskell describes Margaret's fear and despair very well - she cries out "Lord help me", as would anyone who is bereaved or fearful and has a strong faith. We as readers may be able to relate to their relationship, as many of us may have had a deep relationship with grandparents.
Margaret herself is well-balanced, with "good, strong common sense" and "the power of putting a difficult question in a clear light". She is "cheerful and pleasant at home", the best textual evidence being the way she is telling the story of the scorpion. She is welcoming at home, but more reserved when she is out. We also notice that she is very careful not to judge anyone or any situation but she is sympathetic to those who are suffering and does not gossip. We see this when the girls talk about Mrs Ogden and mention Alice - who seems to be a feminine mentor for Margaret, but also a religious reference to her response to suffering: "every sorrow is sent for good".
Margaret could be outraged by Mary's reaction to the news of the fire, but she remains calm and still frightened. Her own fear and suffering at the prospect of going blind shows her human face. Any of us would be as frightened and desperate as she is in this situation. Margaret seems to illustrate Mrs Gaskell's own common sense and honesty in presenting characters with all their faces and frailties.

Mary's behaviour so far has been somewhat disturbing. She is a hard-working young girl who has been left without guidance too early. Is her father able to guide her as a mother would?
Yet she is friends with Margaret, to the point where they spend much time together, mostly working at Mary's in the evenings. "What similarity of dissimilarity attracted the girls to each other?" the narrator asks aptly.
Mary seems to keep her and her father's home a warm place, so that Margaret likes to be there, while her grandfather likes to talk to John.
Mary shows some unsympathetic sides to her personality. She comes across as haughty in general, and even contemptuous of Jem Wilson, as we were shown earlier in the novel - when 13-year-old Mary slapped Jem in the face. This can be explained by the mysterious presence of a lover, whose identity is not revealed, but who feeds her dreams.
Mary is also insensitive - or unaware - of the drama of the fire, which shows a certain lack of maturity, but she realises the seriousness of the situation when she feels trapped by the dense crowd of onlookers and when she realises that George Wilson himself is trapped in the burning building.
John seems cynical about the fire, but perhaps with good reason, when he suggests that Carson's burning mill might be a timely financial solution to a downturn in business. We know that there was a boom in Manchester trade in the early 1830s, followed by two economic crashes at the end of the decade, particularly in 1839 - alluded to in Chapter 3. We also read of Mr Barton's distress at not being able to feed his sick son Tom, and see Mrs Hunter buying luxury food for a party, when he and other workers had just been dismissed by Mr Hunter. Are the Carson mill owners that cynical?
We also see that John Barton did not stand in the street watching the fire burn, as the crowd did. He did not follow the herd instinct and went home, where he remained alone. This fire, burning on and on, with the workers trapped inside, may suggest the insensitivity of the manufacturers, who are not mentioned in the text as being present – even if they are - or involved in fighting the fire nor helping rescue the men trapped inside. Nevertheless, John considers Jem Wilson a decent man, now a hero, and would welcome him more than ever as a son-in-law.

The mention of a mysterious lover and the fact that Mary does not reveal this secret to her friend Margaret shows how Mary has become sexually vulnerable in the absence of real feminine guidance. Is she aware that there might be something wrong with this mysterious lover? Is she being deceived about this mysterious man's intentions?
The example - or counter-example - of her aunt Esther, not mentioned in this chapter, has left an aura of mystery and a kind of dream in Mary's mind, since Esther had promised to make a lady out of her and perhaps sown in her innocent mind the seeds of something to occur.
Is Esther a hidden star, or is she real? Does she represent Mary's “bad angel” while Margaret represents her “good angel”?
We have seen such characters and situations in Victorian literature, and this is indeed a huge subject that Mrs Gaskell bravely tackles, whatever some of her more prudish readers may think.
Beauty in Victorian stereotypes is a grace but may also be a danger. “Fallen women” in Victorian literature are generally doomed to a bitter end, while men go through it unharmed.
Beautiful and naive or uninformed young women, in need of love and of loving a man, are the victims of daring squires (Adam Bede by George Eliot), of usurpers of ancient nobility (Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy) or of a spoiled son as in Ruth, Elizabeth Gaskell's second novel. In these three cases among others, we see that the mothers are either deceased or, like Tess's mother, unable to guide their daughters because they themselves are immature.

I did wonder if Mary did have some feelings for Jem. She seemed very worried for him when he went to save his Dad and the other fellow. In fact, she fainted when it appeared he might not make it across. Yet, when her father mentioned him as a potential match, she became upset. She is a conflicted young lady who probably has seen a charmer and has had her head turned.

Thanks, Claudia, for the excellent review of the story and the analysis of the characters. Could you tell us something of your background? You’re obviously very knowledgeable of English and German literature, and grew up in France.

Thank you for your appreciation Kathleen!
There are a few illustrations in the appendixes of my Norton Critical Edition. I found some by the same artist on the Internet but not that one with the fire, by Ivor Symes. They are very realistic and not caricatural like some in Dickens's novels.
You have tracked the most of my background, Kathleen! I have indeed studied German literature and civilisation but not much English literature beyond Agatha Christie and PD James. However I have partly caught up in the last few years but I lack a background in Shakespeare.
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Fascinating information today, Claudia! Thank you so much for all your work on this. 😊
Sue - "I'm finding the descriptions of extreme poverty more realistic than those written by Dickens"
I think he felt that too, which is why he admired Elizabeth Gaskell so much. But Charles Dickens wanted to ensure that he reached as wide an audience as possible with his campaigning for social justice, so felt that he needed to entertain them too.
Even now some people find they cannot read this book. (My mother-in-law gave up very quickly, as the poverty of the children on the streets upset her so much.)
Petra - I wondered if the comment that "[Mary was] far superior in sense and spirit [than her mother]" might be the authorial voice (i.e. not the omniscient one) telling us the difference?
Kathleen - here's an illustration for you!
Sue - "I'm finding the descriptions of extreme poverty more realistic than those written by Dickens"
I think he felt that too, which is why he admired Elizabeth Gaskell so much. But Charles Dickens wanted to ensure that he reached as wide an audience as possible with his campaigning for social justice, so felt that he needed to entertain them too.
Even now some people find they cannot read this book. (My mother-in-law gave up very quickly, as the poverty of the children on the streets upset her so much.)
Petra - I wondered if the comment that "[Mary was] far superior in sense and spirit [than her mother]" might be the authorial voice (i.e. not the omniscient one) telling us the difference?
Kathleen - here's an illustration for you!
message 72:
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I agree in thinking that Mary's head is being turned by a charmer. She's a young, naive girl with no womanly guidance. I'm a bit worried about her future.
Thanks, Jean. The comment still stands out for me. It implies that Mary has sense, which is hopeful for her future. However, we haven't seen a lot of it yet.

Kathleen, I hadn't thought about illustrations but now that you mention it and Jean has provided us with one, I miss them, too.

Jean's comment is interesting. Thank you for the illustration!
The narrator/Mrs Gaskell intervenes a lot and this may well be an observation of the omniscient narrator - who knew Mrs Barton much better than we do because the narrator is omniscient :)

It is confirmed that Mr Carson, the owner of the mill that burnt down, was well insured and was able to afford new and better equipment thanks to the insurance payout. This has enabled him to keep his head above water during the economic downturn, but he has had to lay off his employees, including George Wilson. The lack of work leaves Mr Carson free to spend time with his family and enjoy leisure activities. George Wilson tries to find a work, but he is upset that Jem is now the sole family's breadwinner, except for Mrs Wilson’s few odd jobs.
One dark and cold evening before Christmas, Mr Wilson is called to see Ben Davenport, who worked with him at Carson's Mill. He was lying very ill in a basement flat in Berry Street, a particularly poor area. George asks John to go with him. John has no money, but takes a piece of bread and a slice of bacon - his scant dinner - and goes with George to visit the Davenports. They find them living in misery and soon realise that Ben is dying of typhus, while Mrs Davenport and her children have not eaten or drunk for a long time. Both men try to look after them. John Barton goes home and collects all his valuables, goes to a pawnbroker, and gets enough money to meet the Davenport's immediate needs: candles, food and coal. After building a fire in the cold, damp and extremely dirty cellar, Mr Wilson takes the older children, who have become unruly because they are so hungry, to his wife and returns with a pot of hot tea. John goes to the chemist’s and asks for a medicine to ease Ben's condition until dawn.
Then Mr Wilson wants to go to Mr Carson and ask him for an Infirmary order. Both men sit up all night discussing the injustice between the classes. John is indignant, especially as he has walked through well-lit streets with windows full of beautiful things or exquisite food, and seen so many apparently happy people, while the poor Davenports are suffering so terribly. George is more accommodating and more willing to accept the difference between people, because God is the Father of them all. John, very upset by the situation, does not want to have the Carsons as brothers.
At dawn, George Wilson goes to Mr Carson's house, two miles from the Davenports', almost in the country. It is a beautiful house, richly and tastefully furnished and decorated. He has had little sleep and nothing to eat since the evening before, and the rich smell of meat and ham, mixed with the smell of coffee, makes him sick. He has to wait for a servant to question Mr Carson and overhears conversations downstairs about various domestic matters. The masters' conversation upstairs sounds equally frivolous. Mr Carson's son, Harry, is a handsome young man. All the members of the family are proud of him, and he is proud of himself. As Amy Carson discusses scents and flowers, we learn that Harry is offering flowers to a young girl he hopes to meet today on her way to see Miss Simmonds, Mary Barton. Mr Wilson is asked to step in and he asks Mr Carson for an order for the infirmary. Mr Carson has no recollection of Mr Davenport having worked in his mill. George is given an out-patient order instead of an in-patient, while Harry gives him five shillings "for the poor fellow" before he goes out. When George goes out, the cook gives him some bread and meat.
When George arrives back at the Davenports', Ben is dying and before he breathes his last, he blesses his wife.
Mary, who has been informed where her father was, arrives at the basement flat and tries to comfort Mrs Davenport while her father makes arrangements for the funeral. As she tries to find words to ease the widow's pain, Mary weeps as much as Mrs Davenport. This is a direct allusion to Romans 12:15: Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.
Mary has forgotten the errands she had to run for Miss Simmonds and there has been no "intended meeting with her gay lover" either. She is scolded by Miss Simmonds and has to work late that night. But, once back home, she puts her heart and soul into her work and alters the black dress that she wore when her mother died so that she can give it to Mrs Davenport.
Ben Davenport is buried in a common, unmarked pauper's grave. We learn that Ben had been paying his regular fees to the burial fund club, but after he was laid off he was unable to pay, so the burial was not paid for by the club. Nevertheless, the funeral is dignified, if simple. Mrs Davenport is wearing the mourning dress given by Mary Barton.

This well constructed chapter emphasises the vast contrasts between two worlds. We recall that this phrase was used by Mr Barton in Chapter 1. Indeed, these two worlds, the masters and the workers, the rich and the poor, do not seem to permeate each other.
The narrative voice - itself interspersed from time to time with Mrs Gaskell's own voice - emphasises this very well in the opening paragraphs. We read a description of Mr Carson's fate after the fire that destroyed the mill. He had good insurance and was able to buy more modern machinery. His mill does not work much in these times of economic recession, so he spends more time with his family, at home, or attending leisure events and activities. He enjoys talking to his daughters in his comfortable, well-lit and well-heated living room.
In stark contrast, many workers have been laid off and are finding it difficult to find new jobs. Some families manage to survive, like the Wilsons, who are supported by Jem's wages. Others, like Mr Barton, do not work full time but manage somehow.
Others are going downhill fast and dangerously. They have no income, and there is no social help from the state, even in the form we know today. Many pawn or even sell the few valuable things they own for sums of money that will help but for a while. Mothers go to such extremities and buy laudanum (opium) to calm their crying, hungry children. People become aggressive because they are hungry. They cannot afford warm clothes, so they end up wearing their unwashed old clothes, which quickly turn to rags. Many, too many live in extreme conditions as do the Davenports, who has no piece of furniture left, nor any household equipment except for a spoon.
Mrs Gaskell describes very well, it seems that we are in a painting by Hieronymus Bosch (Hell), as commented Jenny Uglow or, of course in Dante's Inferno as Elizabeth Gaskell mentioned here, in one of her several literary or religious allusions to the Hell as we will see later.
We have similar descriptions in Friedrich Engels'The Condition of the Working Class in England of what poor people in Manchester - but also in other industrial cities - experience at this time, and how it is possible. Those Manchester areas are crowded, every house is rented in rooms. Even attics and cellars are inhabited by large families with many small children. The Davenports are an archetype of those described by Engels. There is no sewer, no plumbing, waste of all kinds is thrown into the street or in the courts. Rodents are running free, while cellars are damp, ill-aired, poorly lit by a scarce day-light, as the poor people end up not being able to afford candles. Cellar small windows are broken and stuffed with rags like at Davenport’s. Many people are living together on a small surface and, ill-fed, end up being weak and depressed. Engels stresses in his essay that the air over the industrial cities is heavily polluted, while the more modest populations do not get sufficient intake of vitamins. Fruits and vegetables are expensive, scarce, and often stale. Meat is rare and not well-preserved, therefore often spoiled, and uneatable. The inhabitants of such slums lack energy and strength to go to a distant pump and bring water back home. Once sick, they cannot afford to go to a doctor or the chemist’s and get appropriate treatment. Contagious sick patients cannot be isolated at home. They should get Infirmary in-patient or outpatient orders from the firm they were working with before being admitted.
Several serious epidemics swept through Manchester (and the rest of England, and indeed the Continent) in the 1830s: the cholera epidemic of 1832 (also mentioned by Victor Hugo in Les Misérables) was carefully documented by Dr James Kay, later politician and educationist Sir James Kay-Shuttleworth, who worked in the dispensaries at Ardwick and Ancoats and became friends with the Gaskells. He wrote The Moral and Physical Condition of the Working Class Employed in Cotton Manufacture (1832), which was undoubtedly a valuable source of information for Mrs Gaskell when she wrote Mary Barton. Dr Kay was mentioned by Friedrich Engels in his work. Elizabeth's brother-in-law, Dr Samuel Gaskell, was also involved in medical care during the cholera and subsequent recurring typhus epidemics.
In contrast, we are given a glimpse of life in the other world: the well-lit world of the trading streets and the cornucopia of luxury goods and food in the shop windows, especially in the days before Christmas. Mrs Gaskell uses an eloquent metaphorical allusion to the Tales of the Thousand and One Nights Well and warmly dressed, happy looking people walking down the street, although the narrator aptly reminds us that we cannot know if they are not worried behind a cheerful façade. Innocent small talk and 'otherworldly' concerns downstairs at Mr Carson's house: buying salmon for Mrs Carson, waiting for Mr Carson here or there, etc. Upstairs, a nice clicking of silver cutlery on fine China plates at breakfast. Amy concentrates on her desire for scents and flowers, while smells of ham and rich meat and warm coffee are wafting into the nose of a modestly dressed worker with an emaciated face. It is particularly heartbreaking to hear that Mr Carson could not remember Ben Davenport being a former employee of his, and it sounds pointless to see him delivering an outpatient order when Mr Wilson had told him how ill Ben was.
How are we to understand Harry's gesture of giving five shillings "for the poor chap" and then mounting his horse and riding away?

George Wilson tries to build bridges between these two worlds.
He is seen in a dynamic of help, walking to Berry Street and back to Ancoats with the young Davenport children, then back to Berry Street with a jug of hot tea, and now to Carson's and back to Davenports with the Infirmary order.
His commitment is not only geographical and physical, but has an added dimension of heartfelt kindness to those who are suffering. He gently persuades John to come with him to Davenport's, even without words. He is very human and has tears in his eyes when John comes back, having taken the initiative and pain to get his few valuables and pawn them to buy some essentials for the Davenports. He is modest and estimates that neither John nor anyone else should incriminate the Carsons too quickly, for their manufacturing business also has its problems, and Mr Carson must “retrench”.
Through a letter, once written by Ben Davenport, a Methodist (who were considered as Dissenters in those times), George - and Mrs Gaskell through him - convey a subtle message. God is the Father of all, of the workers, but also of the manufacturers, which may be difficult to accept when they are all in the middle of a terrible situation but is still a reality for those who choose to believe in God.

John Barton proved to be extremely generous and committed. He sacrifices first his modest meal and his night’s sleep and then his few precious possessions without knowing when and if he can redeem them, to help a family he did not know before.
Still, he clings to a class logic and cannot imagine that the "masters", the "rich", might also have problems. When plunged into the depths of despair resulting from a terrible loss of status - Engels writes, and Mrs Gaskell writes too, though she rounds off the sharp edges, that such poor people become like animals because they have lost everything, including human dignity - how else could John Barton react? He is outraged and wants to see things put right for the workers and the poor.
Mary Barton proves to be more selfless than we (I) might have expected: she "weeps with them who weep" and takes the initiative to alter her mourning dress to suit Mrs Davenport’s size, because she wants to help her appear decently dressed after all. She even forgot about the errands for Miss Simmonds and a meeting with her mysterious lover, who is now clearly identified as the handsome looking Harry Carson.

Thank you for your enlightening comments, Claudia. I'll be reading your comments on Chapter 6 later today.

First, my interpretation of Mary having more spirit than her mother equated spirit with strength and will as in both physical strength and will to endure hardship, Another word might be constitution.
I am pleased how Gaskell after that early rushed pace, slwed things down to provide wonderful details of the period, but is keeping us stimulated with a variety of additional characters, plot developments, etc. (Sorry, I posted too early by accident.)
This makes for wonderfully entertaining, reading!
I am seeing some similarities in Gaskell's writing to Dickens. One thought is that Gaskell's characters have some very Dickensian elements. I can definitely see Margaret and her grandfather as one example.

Thanks Connie for mentioning this epigraph! I do read them but do not always comment - there is so much to tell!

First, my interpretation of Mary having more spirit than her mother equated spirit with strength and will as in both physical strength and w..."
I agree on your interpretation, Sam.
Indeed, these atypical characters would very well fit into a novel by Dickens!


The community sense of helping those who need help is heartwarming in this harsh chapter. Barton and Wilson gave their all to help a family they didn't or barely knew. Mary helped to make the widow feel dignified for the funeral. The neighbourhood came together to pay for the funeral....despite not having enough for themselves. The poor help the poor.
Mr. Davenport, on the other hand, has so much and has at his disposal the means to help with infirmary cards. Yet he gives one only for the following Monday, leaving the sick man to suffer for days without help. He has no thought towards the health of this man, who gave him so much yet he can't recall him at all. The rich don't see the poor.
It's a frustrating situation. Some help is available and not given.

I was surprised when Harry gave the five shillings to Wilson. I hadn't expected that at all. He seems so "proud" of himself as to be blind to the sufferering of workers....yet he quietly gave five shillings for him.
The other thing we learn about Harry is that he is Mary's secret lover, who we (I) feel will bring her down somehow. I don't see him wanting to or being able to marry Mary. Their two worlds are too far apart and I don't believe that the upper classes took to marrying the lower classes. Mary is bound for heartache if she's truly in love with this man.
So....who is Harry? A kind, generous, caring man of means? Or something else? This one act is surprising and gives me a bit of hope that perhaps he means well but is trapped in his world as much as the poor are trapped in theirs. He may want to help but his hands are tied with Class.

If I had just waited a few days, I would have answered my own question about Barton’s earlier reference to clubs, as here Mr Davenport belonged to a “burial club” when he had an income.
Claudia, your facility with the literature of multiple languages is very admirable!

Petra: yes, Harry's five shillings give us a sense of hope although he appeared a bit haughty at first.
Indeed many "prophecies" of chapter 1 seem to come true. John Barton may be crusty and yet very generous and helpful. The poor help the poor indeed, despite their extreme common distress, and as you said Petra, this is heartwarming.
This all shows that Mrs Gaskell has a way of shedding light on the many faces of people. Her world is not black and white.
Kathleen: Thank you! The most important thing is to write as clearly and correctly as possible!
Asking about those clubs was a good idea, it was an opportunity to have more info (thanks to Jean!)

Mrs Davenport eventually recovers from the shock of losing her husband, and local solidarity helps her find rent money through a local parish and move to better accommodation.
The Wilson twins, never strong before, fall ill with typhoid. Margaret tells Mary, who has returned from work, about the twins' illness. Mary feels guilty about her flirtation with Harry Carson. She rushes to Ancoats and finds Jane Wilson with a dying twin on her knee and Alice crying over the body of the other child. George tells his wife to stop "wishing" for there is a saying that no one can die in the arms of someone who wishes them to live. Alice takes the boy away from his mother so that he can die in peace. Alice, who has been spending the most of her free time with the Wilsons to help them, comforts the family by her words and action. She had planned once again to go to Burton and possibly spend the rest of her life there, but she sees how her brother and sister-in-law need her, so that she decides to stay and help them.
When Jem returns from work and hears the news, Mary is moved by his great anguish. Mary puts her hand on his arm and says she cannot bear to see him give in. Despite his pain, Jem feels the joy of her comfort and cannot resist taking her hand and telling her of his love. Mary, repulsed by his advances, returns to help Alice. Jem is ashamed and goes to his parents, who are standing near the bodies of their sons. He is shaken by the death of his twin brothers, but the words of Mary and her touch on his arm "maintain their hold” on his memories, mingled with his grief.
Mary returns to her house. She thinks of Jem and is ashamed. She wishes he had not spoken so openly about his feelings for her, or not at all, because she does not return his affection. But she cannot help speaking lovingly to him, although she usually tries to sound angry so as not to encourage his attentions.
Mary now dreams that she is Mrs Harry Carson and will be able to help Jem. As she drifts off to sleep, she builds aerial castles about her future wealth as Harry's wife and how she will be able to help her father. Mary sees Harry as the way to become a lady as her Aunt Esther once said.

Once again we are tried and tested by the death of the Wilson twins. We notice that Mrs Gaskell instinctively mentions some small details that prove to be extremely heartwrenching. She experienced this herself when her little William died and in my opinion she wanted to express her sorrow "by proxy", yet soberly and poignantly, without voyeuristic pathos.
In this chapter, I was moved by the two oranges bought by Jem for his little brothers. Indeed, this little detail is more eloquent and touching than extensive descriptions. Oranges were particularly expensive and we know that Jem, who had been providing for his family since his father’s dismissal from the Carson’s mill, could not easily afford to buy oranges. Yet he meant to bring them as a treat and source of vitamins for the twins. Sadly, it is too late.
Infant mortality, and mortality at large is indeed very high, as the narrative voice and through it, Mrs Gaskell, repeatedly mentions.
It is estimated at 255 per thousand in 1845 (children aged 0 to 5) [source: Statista UK].
Mrs Barton's situation at the beginning of the novel is eloquent: she is undernourished, plagued by constant worries and shocks that are difficult to overcome (the death of her first son Tom from scarlet fever, the disappearance of her sister Esther), and subjected to an urban lifestyle that is completely different from her former rural life (the need to fetch water from a distant source, air pollution, water pollution in the rivers that irrigate Manchester, unsanitary conditions in the textile industry, especially cotton).
This was hard life devoid of much pleasure, since any form of entertainment was difficult, if not impossible, for those who lacked the means, the necessity of a daily struggle, the precariousness - Engels stressed that the workers were at the mercy of the employers who could dispose of their workforce at will and without justification - were all factors of deficiency and imbalance. The topography of the city also explains the harshness of life in Manchester: surrounded by hills, it suffers from a cold, damp climate in winter and persistent fog.
Against this unforgiving backdrop, it is hardly surprising that the Wilson twins, pale and sickly from the start of the novel, wither and die. Notwithstanding the care and efforts of their parents - especially George, a positive and dynamic man - such children, and twins no less, are doomed to a sad fate.
At the time, the average life expectancy in Britain was 41 years [source: ibidem]. The working-class population, exposed to long hours of physical labour and unhygienic conditions, was often far from medical care, which was too expensive or came too late.

I hated that the twins passed away. What a horrible blow to the family and to us. Jem was so sweet to bring them the oranges. This was a sacrifice and shows his concern and helplessness in the situation. All he could do was provide an orange.
Mary has feelings of true friendship and commaraderie towards Jem. It's a shame that his open feelings for her make her pull back from this friendship. They would make good friends and companions.
I fear for Mary and her dreams.




It is indeed about dreams vs reality. Moreover Mary has no mother, no real confidante, partly because she unconsciously feels that something is perhaps wrong about this flirt - otherwise she would have told something to Margaret, who would have a different perspective on that.
This is very well-described in two other novels by Elizabeth Gaskell - although contexts are different: Ruth and Sylvia's Lovers

Three weeks later, Jem calls on the Bartons, dressed in his finest suit, with a narcissus in his buttonhole to give to Mary. Mary greets him politely and then goes upstairs, ignoring the flower. She retreats to her bedroom and admires the roses Harry Carson has offered her. Jem and John have a conversation about class struggle and labour issues. John tells Jem that most accidents happen in the last two hours of work, when workers are exhausted and not paying attention. This is a sign that the working day should be shortened. Jem listens half-heartedly and leaves with a vague excuse, his mind still on Mary's reluctant behaviour.
John is left to ruminate on the sad state of trade and the indifference of the rich. He is also concerned about the ill-looking Jane Wilson and tells Mary that she was always fragile after a serious accident just before her marriage to George. Nevertheless, it is a very happy marriage and John is worried for George if Jane were to die.
Barton and his Chartist comrades believe that Parliament may be unaware of the condition of the working class in Manchester. To remedy this perceived ignorance, the men set up a petition in the spring of 1839 to gather witnesses to the deplorable conditions in the manufacturing districts. John Barton was one of the delegates and felt important and hopeful for a better future.
On the eve of the delegates' departure for London, Barton holds an impromptu meeting with his neighbours, including Job Legh and Mrs Davenport, who has now regained her strength and draws John's attention to the plight of children like her son Ben, who cannot afford to go to school, are not yet allowed to work and are exposed to idleness and bad company on the streets. While everyone was suggesting what John should say to Parliament, Mary ironed his two shirts and prepared his modest luggage. He had redeemed his best coat and would do his best to carry the voice of the workers.
The next morning Mary saw her father off. She has decided not to see Harry Carson while John is away. This decision does not sit well with either Harry or Sally Leadbitter, who works with Mary in Miss Simmonds' workshop.
Sally is a vulgar and forward girl who has acted as a mercenary for Harry, acting as an intermediary in Harry and Mary's relationship. She is cynical and greedy, counting the sovereigns she receives from Harry Carson. She needs this money to ease her bedridden mother's condition. Sally goes to Mary's house to deliver one of Harry's letters and finds Mary in tears over the sudden death of George Wilson. Sally tells the distraught girl that Harry says he loves her, but Mary surprises Sally by saying that she does not think she loves Harry at all. When Mary tells Sally about George's death, Sally makes a nasty remark about George and mocks his sister Alice. Sally finally leaves after giving Mary the letter from Harry, begging Mary to see him, but also threatening Mary that Harry might visit her at home.
Margaret Jennings arrives and comforts Mary over the death of George Wilson. Margaret is becoming increasingly blind, but she is cheered by the fact that she has earned a sovereign by singing for a man who lectures on music when his first singer falls ill. Margaret is also more reassured because she has finally told her grandfather about her increasing blindness and he has taken the news well. Mary asks Margaret to sing and they make plans for Margaret's future career.

Luddite Revolts
The Luddites, mentioned by one of John’s comrades in this chapter (“There are never been good times since spinning jennies came up”) were members of a 19th-century movement of English textile workers who opposed the use of certain types of cost-saving machinery, and often destroyed the machines in clandestine raids.
They protested against manufacturers who used machines in "a fraudulent and deceitful manner" to replace the skilled labour of workers and drive down wages by producing inferior goods. Members of the group referred to themselves as Luddites, self-described followers of "Ned Ludd", a legendary weaver whose name was used as a pseudonym in threatening letters to mill owners and government officials.
The Luddite movement began in Nottingham, England, and spread to the North West and Yorkshire between 1811 and 1816. Mill and factory owners took to shooting protesters and eventually the movement was suppressed by legal and military force, which included execution and penal transportation of accused and convicted Luddites.
[Source: Wikipedia]
Charlotte Brontë’s Shirley was set in the background of Luddite riots in Yorkshire, with a manufacturer at the centre of a social conflict.
Chartism
We already read that John Barton is active in clubs and trade-unions, as well as in the Chartist movement. He is sent with others as a delegate to present Chartist petitions before Parliament. At the beginning of chapter 8, he is reading “an old Northern Star”, a militantly Chartist radical newspaper established in 1837 by the Irish MP Fergus O’Connor.
We may infer that John Barton’s Chartist mission to London takes place in June 1839. Some small details in the text may show that we are in late spring: a narcissus in Jem’s jacket buttonhole, a bunch of roses offered by Harry Carson to Mary Barton.
As I wrote in a preceding post, Manchester was the main lab of all revolutions and a hotbed for new radical thinking. Therefore Manchester was the place to be for Engels who intermittently resided in Manchester for 30 years. Karl Marx, who lived in Paris and Brussels, moved to London where he resided until his death and visited frequently and had his desk at Chetham’s Library.
Chartism, a working-class movement for political reform, erupted from 1838 to 1857 in the UK and was strongest in 1839, 1842 and 1848. It took its name from the People's Charter of 1838 and was a national protest movement, with particular strongholds of support in Northern England, the East Midlands, the Staffordshire Potteries, the Black Country and the South Wales Valleys, where working people depended on single industries and were subject to wild swings in economic activity, as it is mentioned in the novel. Chartism was less strong in places, such as Bristol, that had more diversified economies. The movement was fiercely opposed by government authorities, who finally suppressed it.
Petitions signed by millions of working people were presented to the House of Commons. The strategy employed was to use the scale of support which these petitions and the accompanying mass meetings demonstrated to put pressure on politicians to concede male suffrage. Chartism thus relied on constitutional methods to secure its aims, though some became involved in insurrectionary activities, notably in South Wales and in Yorkshire.
The People's Charter of 1838 called for six reforms to make the political system more democratic:
• A vote for every man aged twenty-one years and above, of sound mind, and not undergoing punishment for a crime.
• The secret ballot to protect the elector in the exercise of his vote.
• No property qualification for Members of Parliament (MPs), to allow the constituencies to return the man of their choice.
• Payment of Members, enabling tradesmen, working men, or other persons of modest means to leave or interrupt their livelihood to attend to the interests of the nation.
• Equal constituencies, securing the same amount of representation for the same number of electors, instead of allowing less populous constituencies to have as much or more weight than larger ones.
• Annual parliamentary elections, thus presenting the most effectual check to bribery and intimidation, since no purse could buy a constituency under a system of universal manhood suffrage in every twelve months.
In June 1839, the petition, signed by 1.3 million working people, was presented to the House of Commons, but MPs voted, by a large majority, not to hear the petitioners. At the Convention, there was talk of a general strike or "sacred month". In the West Riding of Yorkshire and in south Wales, anger went even deeper.
Eventually, after Chartism died out, Britain adopted the first five reforms.
[Source: Wikipedia]
Books mentioned in this topic
The Grapes of Wrath (other topics)Mary Barton (other topics)
Bleak House (other topics)
Oliver Twist (other topics)
Dombey and Son (other topics)
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Authors mentioned in this topic
William Shakespeare (other topics)Charles M. Relyea (other topics)
Charles Dickens (other topics)
Elizabeth Gaskell (other topics)
George Eliot (other topics)
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Claudia has described this well, Kathleen. I think they were more prominent in the North of England, and working classes would call them "clubs". The legal name for them is "Friendly Societies": https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Friendl....
One example close to the character, is that my grandma, born a bit later in 1880, paid a penny a week into a "club" when her 5th child (my mum) was born so that if the baby died her funeral would be paid for - and it was hard for her to find. Many years later, after my grandma had died, my mum received a cash bonus ... which was quite touching to her, because she well knew how much my grandma would have struggled in the first place.
Modern insurance has largely done away with the need for that, but the article describes lots of other types of social benefits.
Friendly societies or "clubs" are still around, although were at their height before the welfare state. If your reading of Victorian novels has largely been geared to the middle classes, and set in the South of England, then no, Kathleen, you probably would not come across them.