(This definitely would be me if I lived in the mid 19th century and was a part of the upper class who could afford to wear this kind of clothing and be photographed dramatically. Bring back parasols!! Link 1 below.)

I write to you of my preparations for London:

And the great trip abroad approaches! As promised, I am to accompany my father and brothers on their business trip conducting trading negotiations—for me, it will of course be my first time traveling farther than 40 miles outside of Nantucket, the home I have known all my life. It certainly will be my first trip outside of America’s borders, though by sharing a common language with my own country, England will prove, I hope, far less foreign than its other European counterparts.

To prepare for my departure logistically and to best enjoy my voyage, I have been reading selections from “Bradshaw’s Illustrated Hand Book to London and its Environs.” I’ve taken note of his best advice, and though some of his guide seems based in fundamental good sense, still other aspects seem to warn against the most absurd problems and situations that I’d never have dreamed I’d need to prepare myself for. My brother laughs at my growing anxieties, as I was decidedly more optimistic about the coming journey before reading about some of the cautions that Bradshaw has included.

Bradshaw writes of the magnitude of London’s dense population with specific statistics that have overwhelmed my mind but proven ultimately unhelpful in my preparations. Indeed, Bradshaw assures his readers that though London is “all bustle and confusion,” he also presents the case of an “impartial” French resource, whose impressions of London evolved from hatred to deep respect (Bradshaw 18-19). Upon reading this, I first thought that perhaps such an account would not persuade American readers to visit the city, but the very same resource writes on lovingly about the city, which he says “contains in detail much to interest and be admired” (Bradshaw 20).

Bradshaw writes admiringly of London’s newest technologies, including the drinking fountains, street railways, and expansive telegraph communication system. However, he also cautions  against several forms of unexpected evils that may befall the unsuspecting traveler. Nefarious individuals such as pickpockets, smugglers, and beggars plague the streets of London. For defense, Bradshaw recommends caution “in bestowing his indiscriminate charity” to beggars, as many merely pose and extort the position as a profession (19). Bradshaw also warns against the trouble caused by London’s infamous fog, the incessant noise of the streets, and the London mud that dirties the streets, endangering passers-by after rainfall occurs. We expect, from the guide, that the weather will be cool at worst, and hopefully more comfortable, although almost certainly rainy.

I have also supplemented this research by reading Charles Dickens’ “The Uncommercial Traveller,” a lovely collection of essays that deal with Dickens’ personal experiences and with the city of London at night. They feel very expository in nature, or at least make me feel as though I know a little more about London from the perspective of a true city-dweller. Dickens’ experiences in the essay titled “Night Walks,” deal with the working people of London, hidden away on out-of-sight streets at night, where no one, except our unsleeping narrator, might stumble upon them. Putting himself intentionally in their way, walking along the solitary path of “Houselessness,” Dickens sees what they see. He writes of disease, murder, and street crime, and finally of the scrappy children and sleepy shopkeepers that are only stirring when he finally begins to feel tired. When I first chose to read these essays, I did not expect them to affect me in the ways that they did—my heart broke upon reading this description of children living by their own means:

But one of the worst night sights I know in London, is to be found in the children who prowl about this place; who sleep in the baskets, fight for the offal, dart at any object they think they can lay their their thieving hands on, dive under the carts and barrows, dodge the constables, and are perpetually making a blunt pattering on the pavement of the Piazza with the rain of their naked feet (Dickens 10).

He laments that their growth is only possible because of the savage ways they secure their little lives. To be sure, reading these accounts gives me a proper appreciation for my station in life. I am honored to be visiting London, but saddened by the poverty that pervades such a wonderful city. Reading this passage has given me a heightened understanding of London’s lower class—one that I had not considered while planning our foreign excursion. What will be the hosting country of my holiday also houses these unfortunate souls that Dickens writes of. I thank him for this work of contemplative and almost journalistic thinking that has given me a greater context for my journey and a deeper gratitude for the privilege of my own life.

Finally, if I happen to survive the week’s journey across the Atlantic (despite living on an island, I have never enjoyed the practice of transport by boat and do not particularly await with joy the trip, which is sure to be long and tempestuous), I shall continue to document my travels beginning around the 25th of June, when we are expected to arrive in the docks of Liverpool(2). Dramatics aside—considering I arrive safely and with good humor intact, I fully intend to explore this beautiful and historical city that I have heard and read so much about.

—

Sources:

1. Image: https://chriskresser.com/what-mid-victorians-can-teach-us-about-nutrition-and-health/ 
2. Travel records: https://history.stackexchange.com/questions/23385/how-long-would-it-take-to-travel-from-the-united-kingdom-to-america-in-1890

Note: I cited from our edition of “Night Walks,” but I didn’t refer to it as that in the letter (I referred to it as “The Uncommon Traveller”), because I’m pretty sure it is a collection of essays put together more recently.

As we briefly discussed in our library session in Winchester, both Thomas Malory’s “Fair Maid of Astolat” and Lord Alfred Tennyson’s “Lady of Shalott” are at least partly based on the figure of Elaine from Arthurian legend. Both stories depict the tragedy of Elaine’s life: she is doomed to love Lancelot, who either cannot or will not reciprocate her love in the same way.

I noticed that even though both works tell a version of the same story, their respective focuses differ greatly. Malory is concerned with telling the whole story, complete with plot details that include all of the involved parties. Tennyson’s poem, however, focuses entirely on the condition of the cursed Lady of Shalott. Though Tennyson does not tell the complete story, he brings new life to the story through the perspective of Elaine’s captivity, curse, and fate.

After reading Malory’s “Fair Maid of Astolat,” I can place Tennyson’s “Lady of Shalott” in a greater context. I now understand what is happening to Guinevere, Arthur, Lavine, and Lancelot, while Tennyson’s Elaine is trapped in her tower. The plots vary slightly here, as Malory does not afflict Elaine with a physical entrapment like Tennyson does. Instead, he places her in the middle of a mess of affairs: she is doomed to love Lancelot, whose lover is Guinevere, whose husband is Arthur. When she discovers that she cannot be with Lancelot, she sails off and pronounces that she must die, defending her love as such:

Why sholde I leve such thoughtes? Am I nat an erthely woman? And all the whyle the brethe ys in my body I may complayne me, for my belyve ys that I do none offence, though I love an erthely man, unto God; for He fourmed me thereto – and all manner of good love comyth of God, and othir than good love loved I never Sir Launcelot du Lake. And I take God to recorde, I loved never none but hym, nor never shall, of erthely creature; and a clene maydyn I am for hym and for all othir (Malory 641).

Knowing the full story of Malory’s version of the legend of Elaine, I can better understand the much more romantic, ballad-style poem by Tennyson. As we discussed, the Victorians had an obsession with all things medieval and took inspiration from medieval art and literature, admiring the beauty, simplicity, and idyllic themes of the Medieval era. (The Medieval period and Arthurian legends also became a source of political legitimacy for the monarchs, so medieval themes were important for many reasons).

In part one of “The Lady of Shalott,” Tennyson sets the scene of beautiful Camelot and the island of Shalott. It is briefly hinted at that the Lady of Shalott lives here in her tower, unseen by many that pass through. In part two, her curse is revealed, though not fully explained:

There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colours gay.

She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay

      To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be,

And so she weaveth steadily,

And little other care hath she,

      The Lady of Shalott (Tennyson 37-54).

The reader soon finds that Elaine is cursed to remain in the tower, weaving on her loom to create a picture of the world below. The only glimpses she has of this world, however, are limited to what she can see reflected in her mirror—she calls these glimpses “shadows.”

Elaine’s restricted access to the world around her acts as her main source of conflict, whereas for Malory, this conflict comes from the mess of love affairs that I described earlier. I interpreted this to be Tennyson’s way of depicting Elaine’s internal struggle with her isolation from Lancelot and a free life. Elaine’s isolation and struggle are further highlighted with lines such as “She hath no loyal knight and true” and “‘I am half sick of shadows,’ said/The Lady of Shalott” (Tennyson 62, 71-72).

In part three of the poem, Elaine breaks the curse when she sees a reflection of Lancelot in her mirror, and turns around to see him, the real him, out of the window. It is the first time she has looked out of her window, and not viewed a mere reflection of it. Elaine immediately recognizes her mistake, as her weaving falls apart and her reflecting mirror shatters. She has lost her protection at the cost of her freedom. She finally has reality, which she has always wanted (just like Malory’s Elaine, who is at last reunited with Lancelot, only to learn that she cannot be with him). Both stories are beautiful, haunting, and adhere to medieval values of chastity, purity, honor, and pride, and as a result, in both, when Elaine finally gets what she wanted, she realizes it is not what she wanted after all, and knows she must die.

Endlessly snarky, a bit insufferable, and utterly genius, Sherlock Holmes is a man known intimately by many British and American readers alike. His legacy has grown to an enormous reach—in fact, with the multitude of successful adaptations like Warner Bros.’ Sherlock Holmes, BBC’s Sherlock, and CBS’s Elementary, you would be hard pressed to find someone that’s never heard of the man at 221B Baker Street. In fact, it is (I believe) a source of pride for Londoners that this man, grown so famous that he seems more historical than fictitious, conducted his best work out of a little flat in their own city. The fact that 221B Baker Street is a real place makes the stories a little more exciting for fans…or maybe that’s just me, but I do hope we get the chance to stop by his doorstep!

Indeed, Sherlock’s residency in London is very important to the stories he exists within. Many aspects of the story rely on the rich, urban setting that London provides. Just one obvious example is that since London is a city, it is filled with many people, meaning that there are many more people physically in one square block of the place than is common in most other towns. This fact means that statistically there will be more criminals, because there are more people; therefore, the cramped spaces also lend themselves to conflict more easily.

We can clearly see how Sir Arthur Conan Doyle formed the plot of  “The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle” around the bustle of London at Christmastime. Once Holmes and Watson have discovered the incidents leading up to Peterson being left with Henry Baker’s hat and goose, and learn the circumstances under which the Countess of Morcar’s blue carbuncle was stolen from the Hotel Cosmopolitan, all that was left to do was to fill in the details in the middle. Their literal goose chase (clever, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle!) eventually brings them to Covent Garden—a marketplace where it would have been all too easy to blend in without being seen. The true events that occured could potentially have been lost forever at such a place, that is, if the detective were anyone other than Mr. Holmes.

When Holmes and Watson discover James Ryder, head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan, it doesn’t take long for them to discern that they have their man—but what could possibly have been his motive? Or his method? Sherlock sees a working class man and quickly understands his motive:

“Well, the temptation of sudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you.”

The method, as Ryder explains, seems to have derived from a great anxiety about traveling through London with the gemstone on his person. Ryder says:

“But how to get to him in safety? I thought of the agonies I had gone through in coming from the hotel. I might at any moment be seized and searched, and there would be the stone in my waistcoat pocket. I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking at the geese which were waddling about round my feet, and suddenly an idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the best detective that ever lived.”

The lengths at which Ryder went to in order to remain undetected with the stone seem absurd to me as a reader, who wonders, “why not just play it cool and blend in with the crowd?” All his plots involving the goose were, of course, all for nothing, as the gemstone never actually makes it into his hands.

Knowing this, and knowing that he will be too scared to try such a trick again, Holmes decides against turning this man in—an act that would certainly ruin his life. This choice aligns with Holmes’ statement early in the story about the crime scene, or lack thereof, in London:

“No, no. No crime. Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events may be expected to take place, and many a little problem will be presented which may be striking and bizarre without being criminal. We have already had experience of such.”

Holmes is positive that the case will not involve legal crime, which ends up being untrue. He is correct, however, to comment on the increased incidents that occur in such a place as London, as not all being criminal.

Finally, this passage reminded me of something Sherlock has said in another of his stories, “The Adventure of the Copper Beeches”:

“It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.“

“You horrify me!”

“But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard’s blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser.”

If anything, I was glad to find that Holmes consistently defends the activities of Londoners as mischievous or troublesome at worst, and according to the above quote, held in check by the ever-present townspeople. His take on the countryside, though particularly dark, is very interesting, because what he says about concealment is actually quote true. Either way, Holmes’ allegiance to London is charming and a reassuring testament that he knows very well the city that he services.

References:

Doyle, Arthur Conan. “Adventure 7: “The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle”” and “Adventure 12: “The Adventure of the Copper Beeches”.” The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Lit2Go Edition. 1892. Web. 17 May, 2018

I’d like to first give a little background on my relationship with Pride and Prejudice, because I am a huge Jane Austen fan, and although it may be the basic choice, Pride and Prejudice is unapologetically and with no hesitation my favorite Austen novel. My first experience with the novel was actually the 2005 adaptation (you know the one: Keira Knightley in earthy muslins, sweeping landscape shots, gorgeous score, and a brooding Mr. Darcy in that infamous rainstorm proposal scene. LOVE IT). Yes, it’s true, I watched the movie before reading the book. I happen to hold the unpopular opinion that it doesn’t matter whether you watch the movie before reading the book, particularly if both are good. Anyway, for those of you that have read the book for the class and have not seen the 2005 adaptation, it might be interesting to go back and take a look, as it is often criticized by Austen fans for straying from the novel at important points.

Clearly, I happen to love the movie, including the ways in which it differs from the novel, and have seen it approximately 36429384 times and counting (make that 36429385 by the time we depart, because what better way is there to prepare for a trip to England?). Though it is slightly different, the differences lend themselves well to the manifestation of an on-screen period drama. I also maintain that this version, as well as the similarly well-loved 1995 miniseries, helped form public opinion and perceptions of Pride and Prejudice, and of Austen herself (i.e. they have given way to masterpieces like Bridget Jones’ Diary, The Jane Austen Book Club, and Austenland—all comedies that are enjoyed by plenty of people who have never so much as touched an Austen novel).

I think I have digressed enough to make it very clear that Pride and Prejudice has had a great influence on the way I enjoy literature. After I read it, I couldn’t get enough, and started exploring the rest of Austen’s novels and similar novels from the Regency period and beyond. I hope that everyone loves the book as much as I do—I truly believe it has something for everyone, and each time I read it, it just keeps getting better. Again, I apologize for the rambling, but hopefully it is sufficient explanation for why this blog post will probably be very passionately written.

—

The scene that I’ve chosen to look at is part of a very interesting conversation that occurs between Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, Caroline Bingley, and Elizabeth during Elizabeth’s stay at Pemberley to visit a bedridden Jane. The group sit around and talk about the qualities of a good woman; the tone of the conversation becomes tense, as the four individuals have opposing thoughts on the topic and come from very different social stations. It is Bingley’s comment, made in response to a praise of Georgiana Darcy’s accomplishments, that sets off the discussion:

“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are” (Austen 38).

The reason that I love this scene is because I think the way that each character contributes to the ensuing debate reveals much about their character and how they act in scenes throughout the novel. As seen in the above quote, Bingley is overflowing with praise and prepared at all times to be completely astonished by the talents of any woman he should meet. He goes on to describe several forms of feminine decorative arts and hand crafting endeavours as being perpetually impressive to him. This optimistic, kind, and not wholly unrealistic view of the accomplishments of females is a classic representation of Bingley’s ever cordial and gracious demeanor.

The notion that all women are equally talented, let alone talented at all, is absurd to Darcy, and subsequently Caroline, who effectively reiterates every one of Darcy’s opinions in a desperate attempt at winning his attention and approval. The two vehemently disagree with Bingley’s statement—one that was given innocently and was almost certainly not intended to create a new strain of discourse among the group. Caroline rattles off a list of traits that must necessarily be found in a woman before she can think to be called accomplished:

“Oh! certainly,” cried his faithful assistant, “no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved” (Austen 39).

Many of these traits, you will notice, could only be attained by women of Caroline’s standing, that is, women with the monetary resources to have a well-rounded education and with adequate leisure time to pursue so many different pursuits. This statement, then, is not only intended to uplift women of her own station (although it certainly does accomplish this), but is mostly meant to suggest the promotion of herself and her own talents, and probably specifically to the bachelor Darcy. This endeavour is less than successful, however, since Darcy later makes a pointed comment condemning “the meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation” (Austen 40).

Elizabeth then criticizes Darcy and Caroline for being too severe in their criteria. Although her comments are delivered fiercely and are possibly rooted in her own bitter understanding that neither Caroline nor Darcy consider her to be a well-accomplished woman, Elizabeth’s stance on this topic is by no means unreasonable. She makes the most sensible case out of anyone in the party. She does not make the claim that all women are equally talented, like Bingley, but she comes to the defense of the only minorly accomplished women that Caroline and Darcy apparently expect to be masters of many kinds of feminine occupations. Elizabeth and Darcy’s final exchange effectively ends the conversation for good: 

“I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any.”

 

“Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all this?”

 

“I never saw such a woman. I never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe united” (Austen 39).

As I tried to outline in this post, each character’s contributions to their debate about what makes a woman accomplished in extremely telling of their role as character in the bigger picture of Pride and Prejudice. Their opinions also work to foreshadow their actions, particularly in each one’s romantic endeavours. Bingley’s praise of accomplished women eventually extends to focus on the canonically perfect Jane Bennet, Caroline’s value of a complete mastery of all activities (which she believes herself to have) does not actually end up being enough to secure the man she wants (contrary to what she argues in this scene), and of course, Elizabeth and Darcy’s disagreement foreshadows the conflicts that their relationship must endure before finally ending up together—which only happens after each person acknowledges their faults along the way.

Here is a clip from the 2005 movie adaptation of Pride and Prejudice if you’d like a visual and comprehensive refresher on the scene I’ve been writing about!

My edition of Pride and Prejudice is the 2003 Barnes & Nobles Classics publication.

There are a multitude of heart wrenching scenes and interactions throughout Oliver Twist that elicit deep sympathy for Oliver from the reader. In fact, after the first several chapters, I stopped being so surprised by the awful circumstances that Oliver continues to find himself in. Time after time, Oliver proves his mental and physical resilience as he is put to work and forced to live on almost no food and barely livable clothing and sleeping accommodations. To me, this seems to have been a device used by Dickens to emphasize Oliver’s good heartedness and strong spirit. By showing Oliver’s very human reactions to the grotesque events that occur in his life, Dickens is also putting an individual face, a face of childhood and innocence, on the concept of poverty in mid 19th century England.

There is one scene in particular that I think best represents the ideas I outlined above: an interaction between Oliver and another child named Dick. It goes as follows:

‘I heard the doctor tell them I was dying,’ replied the child with a faint smile. ‘I am very glad to see you, dear; but don’t stop, don’t stop!’

 

‘Yes, yes, I will, to say good-b’ye to you,’ replied Oliver. ‘I shall see you again, Dick. I know I shall! You will be well and happy!’

 

‘I hope so,’ replied the child. ‘After I am dead, but not before. I know the doctor must be right, Oliver, because I dream so much of Heaven, and Angels, and kind faces that I never see when I am awake. Kiss me,’ said the child, climbing up the low gate, and flinging his little arms round Oliver’s neck. ‘Good-b’ye, dear! God bless you!’

 

The blessing was from a young child’s lips, but it was the first that Oliver had ever heard invoked upon his head; and through the struggles and sufferings, and troubles and changes, of his after life, he never once forgot it. (Dickens 54).

This scene is painful for many reasons. For me, it was a reminder of the serious physical abuse and emotional neglect that the boys must have experienced at the hands of Mrs. Mann, a woman who was obviously only boarding the, to reap the benefits of their stipends, and who was responsible for the deaths, by starvation, of countless children. Despite the kind words and hopefulness of both boys, the way that Dick speaks about heaven and embraces Oliver during the interaction strongly implies that he knows it will be the last time they will see each other in this lifetime.

Most importantly, the detailed way in which this conversation was described, as well as its placement at the end of a chapter, right before Oliver makes his own way to London, forced me to pay attention to this scene. The narrator writes that Dick’s blessing resonated with Oliver so much that “through the struggles and sufferings, and troubles and changes, of his after life, he never once forgot it.” This statement is encouraging for Oliver’s story, if not Dick’s. After reading this passage, I certainly continued to notice the relentless tragedies, small and large, that afflict Oliver throughout the novel. However, with this perspective, I no longer have to wonder what keeps Oliver so strong and motivated to survive through his many conflicts—I just remember this scene and the profound impact it had on little Oliver.

Oliver and Little Dick, Sol Eytinge, Jr. (1867), Image taken from http://www.victorianweb.org/art/illustration/eytinge/180.html