The Old Curiosity Club discussion

Chapters 13-16

Julie has other commitments this week, so I'll be filling in for her. 

Things have taken a decidedly dark turn this week that took me by surprise, despite the foreshadowing that, obviously, I didn't pick up on.  At least not to this extent. If Peter was finding our story a bit too slow and gentle for his liking, perhaps this week's chapters will have shaken him out of his torpidity.

Just as it didn't have a prologue, neither does my copy have chapter titles, but the Internet tells me that chapter 13 is called A Return to Duty, and we find that a sulky Gilbert has decided to avoid the society of his family and friends and throw himself back into work.

Though I found no pleasure in it, it would be less irksome than idleness - at all events it would be more profitable. If life promised no enjoyment within my vocation, at least it offered no allurements out of it; and henceforth I would put my shoulder to the wheel and toil away, like any poor drudge of a cart-horse that was fairly broken in to its labour, and plod through life, not wholly useless if not agreeable, and uncomplaining if not contented with my lot.

How despondent he sounds!

Mrs. Markham is overly solicitous, and Fergus is, as usual, artlessly direct, stirring Gilbert's temper. Gil departs to do some business with Robert Wilson and, despite his best intentions, he finds himself at the mercy of Eliza and Jane. I spoke too soon last week when I gave Eliza credit for handling her rejection with dignity!  Here, she can't help but take digs at Gilbert and delight in his misery.  Her jibes push him further over the edge.  Could his day get any worse?  Yep. He heads off to check his corn fields, only to spot Helen and Arthur.  Arthur runs to greet him, but Gilbert turns and walks away.  Poor Arthur.  Is Gilbert being immature to behave this way, or is this, perhaps, good judgment on his part, as he's already riled up?

Chapter 14 is ominously entitled An Assault.  A day has passed, but Gil is still feeling quite bitter, and heads to town to conduct some business, despite it being a "dull, drizzly day" which, he says, "was all the more suitable" to his frame of mind. Along the road, he meets Mr. Lawrence, who, I believe, has not yet been given a first name. Lawrence needs to learn how to read the room!  Everything he says just inflames Gilbert more until...

impelled by some fiend at my elbow, I had seized my whip by the small end, and - swift and sudden as a flash of lightning - brought the other down upon his head. It was not without a feeling of savage satisfaction that I beheld the instant, deadly pallor that overspread his face, and the few red drops that trickled down his forehead, while he reeled a moment in his saddle, and then fell backward to the ground.

Holy mackerel!  Did you see this coming? I was completely taken aback by Gilbert's brutality.  He just left Lawrence there, bleeding and semi-conscious. Okay, okay... he did return to check on him, but there was no remorse, and Lawrence was, justifiably, wary of Gilbert's aggressive attempts to help, which seemed to inflame Gilbert even more. This guy needs some anger management therapy.  What do you think about his comment that he had a fiend at his elbow?  I'm picturing Flip Wilson's character, Geraldine, who had the catchphrase, "The devil made me do it!"  Laws were different then, of course, but had this happened today, it would seem as if he was setting up a temporary insanity plea.

By the time he comes back from town, Lawrence and his pony are gone.  When he returns home, he finds that the neighbors are abuzz with tales of Lawrence being thrown from his horse and badly injured. Gilbert's only concern seems to be if Lawrence will accuse him, but ...

It was evident, then, that, for Mrs. Graham's sake it was not his intention to criminate me.

Again, he has no remorse for his actions, but seems satisfied, if not relieved, that Lawrence is keeping silent about the assault.  Is Gil worried about being charged, or is he more concerned with Helen's reputation?  Was she correct to keep him at arm's length? Why didn't he meet her as planned to hear what she had to tell him about her history instead of assuming the worst? 

Chapter 15 is going to tell us about An Encounter and its Consequences.  The chapter starts out with some hopeful imagery.  The rain has stopped and Bronte peppers her description of the day with the words fair, promising, rejoicing, sweetly, glittering, etc. Oh, thank God!  Things are surely looking up!  Or not.  Gilbert tells us,

no ray of sunshine could reach my heart, no breeze could freshen it; nothing could fill the void my faith, and hope, and joy in Helen Graham had left, or drive away the keen regrets and bitter dregs of lingering love that still oppressed it.

Does anyone else want to channel Cher's character in Moonstruck, by slapping Gilbert across the face and yelling, "Snap out of it!"  I'll bet Helen does.  She sends Arthur to fetch Gilbert for a little chat.  Is she aware of what's transpired? She tells him,

you never understood me, or you would not soon have listened to my traducers - my confidence would be misplaced in you - you are not the man I thought you. Go! I won't care what you think of me.

But these two can't just call it quits and leave bad enough alone. Gilbert goes to Wildfell Hall the next day and they spar some more.  Gilbert shows his cruel streak again when he thinks,

I can crush that bold spirit,' thought I. But while I secretly exulted in my power, I felt disposed to dally with my victim like a cat.

Cat and mouse games. There's an unhealthy attraction here that calls for immediate transparency. In that vein, after lots of cryptic comments pass between them, Gilbert finally 'fesses up to eavesdropping on her conversation with Lawrence. 

She did not speak, but flew to her desk, and snatching thence what seemed a thick album or manuscript volume, hastily tore away a few leaves from the end, and thrust the rest into my hand, saying, 'You needn't read it all; but take it home with you,'...'Bring it back when you have read it; and don't breathe a word of what it tells you to any living being - I trust to your honour.'

Well, maybe now we're getting somewhere.  What will we learn from this journal?  More intriguing to me, what is on the pages she ripped out?  Can we trust Gilbert's honour after his abominable behaviour? Obviously we can't, as Gilbert immediately transcribes the journal's contents to his friend, Halford.  Sheesh.

Chapter 16 seems to lack a title, unless we label it by the date of Helen's first journal entry, June 1st, 1821, which predates Gilbert's first letter to Halford by 6 years.  We now shift from Gilbert's narration to Helen's. 

Helen has returned with her aunt and uncle to the country from London, and she's finding the lack of society and slower pace tedious. Where are Helen's parents? She has filled her time sketching and seems to focusing on the face of one subject.  She keeps her sketches private.  Hmm...  She then recalls their London visit.

Helen is 18 and Aunt Peggy has begun talking to her about marriage and choosing a husband.  Her advice is sound but, like 18 year olds everywhere, Helen believes she knows all she needs to. We learn that Helen is attractive, has a comfortable income, and comes from a good family.  Her assets may attract disreputable suitors, but she can afford to wait it out and be sure of a man's character. Her aunt reproves Helen for being cavalier, and tells her to, "Remember Peter, Helen!"  Who is Peter, and what befell him?

Helen goes on to say all the right things, in part because I think she believes them, but also to shut Aunt Peggy up. Aunt Peggy is wary, saying, "You have not been tried yet, Helen: we can but hope."  Peggy's admonitions cause Helen to wonder if her aunt has ever truly been in love.

The London season begins and Helen is courted by a Mr. Boarham, whom Helen calls Bore'em with good reason. At a ball, a younger gentlemen sees how Boarham monopolizes Helen, and finagles an introduction, after which he remains close by to intercede on her behalf.  She is grateful, and somewhat taken by the handsome Mr. Huntingdon.

Mr. Boarham asks for Helen's hand, which she rejects, much to his astonishment and her aunt's dismay.  Aunt Peggy has heard of Mr. Huntingdon's attentions and warns of his reputation for being "a bit wildish."  Helen responds,

I cannot believe there is any harm in those laughing blue eyes."

This reminded me of the passage Julie quoted last week:

There is such a thing as looking through a person's eyes into the heart and learning more of the height, and breadth, and depth of another's soul in one hour than it might take you a lifetime to discover if he or she were not disposed to reveal it - or if you had not the sense to understand it.

It seems as if Gilbert and Helen both put a lot of stock into the idea of the eyes being the windows to the soul.  How will this work out for them?

This book is said to be the first "feminist" novel, and I can see from this chapter why some might label it so.  Mr. Boarham's condescension and presumption is hard to take, but many girls in those times would have considered him a good prospect, if not a love match, because he could provide security and that highly coveted place in society.  Helen wants more.  She is fortunate that she doesn't have to settle - at least not yet.

Mary Lou wrote: "Julie has other commitments this week, so I'll be filling in for her. 

Things have taken a decidedly dark turn this week that took me by surprise, despite the foreshadowing that, obviously, I did..."

Chapters 13 & 14

Ah, Mary Lou I love the phrase “shaken … out of his torpidity.” Yes indeed these chapters offer the reader new dimensions and depth to Gilbert. To date, he has been, to me at least, too passive, too mopey, too controlled. All that ended when the whip descended on Lawrence. Perhaps I should have seen that Bronte was working her way to an explosive action/reaction of Gilbert. I like the unexpected. Is the ‘new’ Gilbert more interesting? Absolutely, his passion is no longer simmering. It has boiled over. He semi-somnolent body language has erupted. He is unrepentant in his actions.

Such a shift in mood and character augurs well for the future development of the narrative and the central characters. What is it that Helen hides from the village and from Gilbert and his family? Where does Lawrence fit into this narrative? Surely he holds at least part of the answer but I feel we must wait much longer now that Gilbert has harmed Lawrence.

You are right Mary Lou. Gilbert has no remorse. And yet Lawrence does not point his finger at Gilbert. Another ‘why’ added to our rapidly expanding puzzle. It seems each and every action of Gilbert serves only to isolate him further from his family, from Helen, and, even farther from the person Gilbert wishes he could be.

I’m also shocked by Gilbert’s behavior, and maybe less so by the initial assault than by, as Mary Lou pointed out, his lack of remorse when he has seriously injured the man. I guess we’re supposed to take the strength of his anger as a sign of his emotional attraction to Helen and sense of betrayal? I tend to agree instead that it’s the sign of someone with a serious anger problem.

Gilbert is a deeply dissatisfied person, isn’t he? That divided self that felt he was designed for a future superior to farming (eyeroll) seems to be erupting all over the place now. Neither Helen nor Gilbert really wanted to follow the sage advice of their elders who advised them to opt for a steady life. Doesn’t look like it’s working out all that well for either of them. Though I too would rather live alone with my child and my maid and my painting and my scandalous reputation than marry Mr. Bore’em.

Chapters 15 and 16 continue to shake me out of my lethargic reaction to the first chapters of the novel. Gilbert and Helen seem prepared to wound and hurt each other. They almost seem to enjoy their verbal fencing. Thank goodness Gilbert does not have a riding crop in his hand. Perhaps this unleashing of negative passion is a harbinger of coming an emotional passion between them.

Now, chapter 16 gave me a bit of a whiplash. Helen is connected to a rather well-to -do family. She is 18. How do we account for her child who seems to be at least five? It is apparent that Helen has common sense when it comes to selecting a possible husband. The questions I have … has Helen been married before? Is that her son? Lots of questions but very few answers.

Helen's 18 when she's writing her journal entry, which is six years before she meets Gilbert with her 5 year old son. That indicates that things, presumably with Huntingdon, will be happening pretty quickly now that she's refused Boarham's proposal.

Mary Lou wrote: "Helen's 18 when she's writing her journal entry, which is six years before she meets Gilbert with her 5 year old son. That indicates that things, presumably with Huntingdon, will be happening prett..."

Ah. More proof that babysitting our two grandchildren disrupts or scrambles my brain’s concentration.

We keep being reminded of Helen and her portrait painting. Also, I lIke the comment on keeping an eye out for the multiple references to eyes in the novel. I’m happy the action is picking up.

Peter wrote: "I’m happy the action is picking up."

I admit I like a book where we've just seen a major physical assault but "the action" is "why is this woman living on her own with a 5 year old"? ;)