Abstract
As a man and as a male author Thackeray faced different problems from those faced by Eliot, Brontë and Austen. We have shown how the standards of sexual behaviour expected of women during the nineteenth-century differed from those expected of men. Henry Crawford can sin and get away with it, Mr Rochester can have a string of mistresses, attempt bigamy and still be forgiven. In contrast, Maria Rushworth after an unfortunate marriage pays a horrible price for her attempt to escape from this marriage, although not as horrible as that paid by Hetty Sorrel in her attempt to make a fortunate marriage. Eyebrows are raised at the conduct of Maggie Tulliver and even of Jane Eyre, although they are guilty of nothing more than indiscretion. Brontë and Eliot were reluctant to admit their female identity as authors. Men could visit the Lewes ménage, but women could not. Men could and did profit from the infamous double standard, not suffering the risk or the disgrace of pregnancy and thus being less likely to suffer the shame or the scandal of sexual exposure. Male authors are perhaps less inclined than female to challenge the standard, although they had less to lose if they made such a challenge.
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Notes
M. Stealts, ed., The Journals of Ralph Waldo Emerson (Cambridge, Mass., 1973), X, pp. 530–1.
The Austen Leighs were fairly scholarly defenders of Austen’s reputation, but cannot compete with Anne Thackeray and the wife of Leslie Stephen. Ray’s edition of Thackeray’s letters and his two volumes of biography, Thackeray: The Uses of Adversity (Oxford, 1955) and Thackeray: The Age of Wisdom (Oxford, 1958) give an admirable and candid account of the control exercised by Thackeray’s family.
G. Ray, ed., The Letters and Private Papers of William Makepeace Thackeray (Oxford, 1945), I, pp. 230, 235.
J. Carey, Thackeray: Prodigal Genius (London, 1977) and C. Peters, Thackeray’s Universe: Shifting Views of Imagination and Reality (London, 1987).
The ‘Silver Fork’ genre, most notoriously the province of E. B. Lytton, is said to have dealt rather luridly with aristocratic society, as of course do some of the early sections of Disraeli’s Sybil. See Roger Henkle, Comedy and Culture: England, 1820–1900 (Princeton, 1980).
Thackeray’s preface can be found in G. Tillotson and D. Hawes, eds, Thackeray: The Critical Heritage (London, 1968), pp. 88–9. The same volume has some mildly critical reviews of Vanity Fair on pp. 53–8, and of Pendennis on pp. 93–8. There is a very long and favourable review of The Newcomes on pp. 230–49.
Ray, Thackeray: The Uses of Adversity, p. 283. For governesses see M. Poovey, Uneven Developments, pp. 126–63.
J. Sutherland, Thackeray at Work(London, 1974) and EH.arden, TheE mergence of Thackeray’s Serial Fiction (Georgia, 1979) disagree about the extent to which Thackeray’s serial fiction is carefully thought out, or brilliantly improvised. Both critics, however, supply valuable evidence about how Thackeray changed his mind about Becky Sharp and Lord Kew and Barnes Newcombe in The Newcomes. Thackeray’s instinctive liking for Becky Sharp, like his dislike of Laura Pendennis, should not be ignored.
‘The purity of our English women’, as the phrase went, was integral to British racism in the period. This characterisation didn’t mean that Englishwomen were praised for being prudish, hyper-refined or infantile. On the contrary, it was thought that Englishwomen were models of feminine perfection because they combined intelligence with diligence, independence with the desire to be valued by husbands and good humour with moral perceptiveness. The Englishwoman conducted herself in an attractive way, not because she was manipulative, made up or mincing but because her competence and vivacity made her naturally desirable. She was neither slavish nor threatening; and was sexually attractive without being sexually in charge. Within this paradigm, sexiness which didn’t spill into sinfulness, selfishness or moral subservience was the aim. It was a contradictory one of course, since it still applied the model of a male fantasy to real women. The relation of this paradigm of English womanhood and girlhood to the notion of the fallen woman is an obvious one. (See ‘Sentimental Physiology’, Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, 86 [July 1859], 87–98.)
See Harden, pp. 207–8, and Sutherland, pp. 107–8, for the irony involved in this censorship.
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© 1994 Tom Winnifrith
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Winnifrith, T. (1994). Thackeray. In: Fallen Women in the Nineteenth-Century Novel. Palgrave Macmillan, London. https://doi.org/10.1057/9780230377721_5
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