Last post headlined by the cover of Shirley – I promise! 😉

Shirley is less well-known than Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, and I’m wondering why that is. It’s a doorstopper, to be sure – about the same length as Villette, and longer than Jane Eyre – so that might have something to do with it. But in Shirley, Bronte delivers something that she does not deliver in her other novels (spoiler alert!): an unreservedly happy ending. But we’ll get to that in a minute.

Bronte called Shirley her novel of “Monday morning” and she planned for it to feel ordinary and workaday – and it does, but then again it doesn’t. Throughout the novel, you can read other influences. For example, she begins with a description of a northern textile mill and its attractive owner, the English-Belgian Robert Gerard Moore. Moore has ordered some textile frames to be delivered, but there’s labor unrest about; a group of disaffected mill workers lie in wait, ready to intercept and smash the frames on their way to their destination. Shades of Bronte’s friend Elizabeth Gaskell all over the place.

Jane Austen seems to be an influence, too. Bronte famously had little use for Austen, but some readers, meeting Shirley, hazard a guess that Austen influenced Bronte more than Bronte may have thought (or admitted). For instance, one character is described as “proud and prejudiced.” I mean. And then there are the witty asides.

“Rose, don’t be too forward to talk,” here interrupted Mrs. Yorke, in her usual kill-joy fashion, “nor Jessy either: it becomes all children, especially girls, to be silent in the presence of their elders.”

“Why have we tongues, then,” asked Jessy pertly; while Rose only looked at her mother with an expression that seemed to say, she should take that maxim in, and think it over at her leisure. After two minutes’ grave deliberation, she asked– “And why especially girls, mother?”

Yes, why especially girls, Mrs. Yorke?

One girl who would definitely take issue with Mrs. Yorke’s stern admonitions to her young daughter is the novel’s titular character, Shirley Keeldar. Shirley is a fabulous, fascinating character. Having inherited a fortune and a great estate, of her own right, from her late parents – Shirley is completely liberated from convention and social expectations. She goes where she pleases, talks to whom she chooses, and answers to no one but herself. In a time when women were little better than property, Shirley is a breath of the very freshest air. And in her character – said to be a portrayal of Emily Bronte, if she was rich and healthy – Shirley is wildly ahead of Victorian times. She sharply defends her single status and her choice of man to marry… maybe, eventually, when she is ready. She enjoys her position as “lord of the manor,” holds her own in business talk with the young mill owner Robert Moore, calls herself “Captain” and even uses masculine pronouns from time to time. (Can you believe it?! In a Victorian novel. My jaw was on the floor, in the very best way.) What is possibly even more incredible: other characters in the novel just accept her as she is – even the conservative clergyman, Mr. Helstone – referring to her as “Captain” and using masculine pronouns to refer to her as well. I found that astonishing.

I have loved Charlotte Bronte since high school, and one of the reasons is that once you get through the Victorian language (and occasional melodrama) she’s so very modern. Her thoughts and critiques ring very true for 2022. For example, she has some very unfavorable opinions of the “British mercantile classes” – male, of course. I can think of quite a few Americans in present day who fit this description, too. Some of them aren’t in Congress, but most are.

All men, taken singly, are more or less selfish; and taken in bodies they are intensely so. The British merchant is no exception to this rule: the mercantile classes illustrate it strikingly. These classes certainly think too exclusively of making money: they are oblivious of every national consideration but that of extending England’s (i.e. their own) commerce. Chivalrous feeling, disinterestedness, pride in honor, is too dead in their hearts. A land ruled by them alone would too often make ignominious submission – not at all from the motives Christ teaches, but rather from those Mammon instills.

Another way that Shirley is modern and unusual for a Victorian novel is that – while several characters are in romantic plotlines – the central relationship of the book is a friendship between two women. There’s Shirley, of course, but her co-heroine actually appears onstage first. Caroline Helstone is the vicar’s shy niece – abandoned to her woman-hating uncle as a young girl, she grew up sheltered and largely solitary. Her one social indulgence has been her friendship with her Belgian cousins, Hortense and Robert Moore. Hortense teaches Caroline French and domestic arts, and Robert – well, Caroline falls in love with Robert. Hard. The problem is that Robert is too focused on the success of his mill to even think about marriage, and Caroline is convinced she will never love anyone else, leading to some more of Bronte’s very pointed words.

Reflecting on her anticipated destiny as an unmarried woman, Caroline wonders where she will find meaning in her life if not as a wife and mother:

“Ah! I see,” she pursued presently; “that is the question which most old maids are puzzled to solve; other people solve it for them by saying, ‘Your place is to do good to others, to be helpful whenever help is wanted.’ That is right in some measure, and a very convenient doctrine for the people who hold it; but I perceive that certain sets of human beings are very apt to maintain that other sets should give up their lives to them and their service, and then they requite them by praise: they call them devoted and virtuous. Is this enough? Is it to live? Is there not a terrible hollowness, mockery, want, craving, in that existence which is given away to others, for want of something of your own to bestow it on? I suspect their is. Does virtue lie in abnegation of self? I do not believe it…”

“A very convenient doctrine for the people who hold it” – WOW. I mean, think about that for a second. That is next level cynical.

Caroline decides to do some life research by getting to know the local old maids, and goes on something of an old maid tour of the region. Her uncle, perhaps alarmed by this, decides it would be good for Caroline to make the acquaintance of the local heiress, just returned to her landed property. Introducing Caroline to Shirley Keeldar is possibly the only truly kind thing Mr. Helstone ever does for his niece (and he’s almost certainly got his own ends in mind) but what a result – Caroline and Shirley immediately hit it off, and their friendship is the anchor of the book. Even when it appears that they may both be in love with Robert Moore, the friendship thrives in Bronte’s capable hands. Books making female friendship the central relationship are rare in present day – in Victorian times, this was almost unheard-of. I was staggered, and delighted.

I won’t go into more detail, because this post is already too long as it is. But I wanted to note that there are a few other Easter eggs for careful readers to find – nods to both Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights and Anne Bronte’s Agnes Grey (both of which pre-dated Shirley by two years; I checked, because I wanted to make sure the references weren’t an accident). I won’t spoil them, so please let me know if you read Shirley and find the Easter eggs.

All in all, while it took me quite some time to get into Shirley, once I did settle into the narrative I absolutely loved it. Bronte’s modern story of female friendship and empowerment was Jane Eyre, but more cheerful. I just adored it, and it won’t be long before I have to revisit Miss Keeldar and Miss Helstone (and their men, but let’s be honest – the guys are supporting players, and I’m here for it).

What is your favorite Bronte novel?