Cape May MAC Book Club: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall
by Evelyn Maguire
We’ve kicked off the Cape May MAC Book Club with the 1848 novel The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë! If you missed our live discussion, check out the recording here. And to stay up to date with book club news, follow our Facebook Event Page and subscribe to the Cape May MAC blog! For those who prefer their content written, read on for a recap and literary analysis of our first book club selection…
Okay, before we delve into the novel itself, let’s give some historical context by looking at the life and work of the lesser-known, third Brontë sister, Anne. For a long time, I didn’t even realize there was a third novelist in the Brontë clan. Much like the oft forgotten fourth Jonas brother — did you all know about Frankie Jonas?! — Anne Brontë was the youngest of the Brontë siblings. And if you thought that Anne was the only unknown Brontë sibling, there were, in fact, six siblings all together. Six! The most well-known are, of course, Charlotte (Jane Eyre) and Emily (Wuthering Heights). All six siblings died before reaching the age of forty.
Like her elder sisters, Anne pursued both poetry and prose. Together in 1846, the three sisters collectively published a book of poetry which was met with favorable reviews yet was a commercial failure; apparently the poetry collection sold only two copies in its first run. The collection was published under pseudonyms intended to make the genders of the authors vague — thus Anne’s pen name, Acton Bell, was born. In that same year, each of the sisters’ first novels — Charlotte’s The Professor, Emily’s Wuthering Heights and Anne’s Agnes Grey, were being considered and edited by London publishers. And while Wuthering Heights and Anges Grey were accepted, Charlotte’s novel was rejected, making the way for Jane Eyre.
In 1848, Anne published her second novel and our book club selection, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Unlike her sister’s pivotal works, The Tenant eschews gothic touchstones — the ghost of Catherine or the madwoman in the attic, for example — and presents a rather striking work of realist fiction, a social commentary with a particular focus on the treatment of women who have strayed from society’s perceived notion of propriety. And far from demonizing such a female character, The Tenant situates the enigmatic and clever Helen Graham, the supposed widow of Wildfell Hall, we come to know through suitor Gilbert Markham’s eyes as well as through her own diary entries, as the novel’s heroine. For this reason, many critics in recent years have come to recognize this once rather scorned novel as one of the first major works in feminist literature.
Linda and I debated this question — whether this novel is, in fact, a feminist work — during our live discussion. We reached a tentative consensus: When considering its Victorian-era context, yes, The Tenant breaks ground in terms of bringing the “unspoken” of a Victorian household to the foreground — highlighting a woman’s very limited legal options when dealing with an emotionally or even physically abusive husband. It was not until 1870 with the passage of Married Women’s Property Act, that a married woman had legal recourse to sue for divorce or the custody of her own children. In the time The Tenant is set, protagonist Helen Graham would be considered a felon for fleeing the abuse of her husband.
But, we discussed, from a modern eye, the novel does not reach its feminist potential. Instead, the final 250-some pages focus quite clearly on moral instruction — much in the way of Pilgrim’s Promise — as Anne herself notes was her intention in the Preface to the First Edition: “I wished to tell the truth, for truth always conveys its own moral to those who are able to receive it… if I have warned one rash youth from following in their steps, or prevented one thoughtless girl from falling into the very natural error of my heroine, the book has not been written in vain.”
In 2018, literary critic Marianne Thormählen remarked that The Tenant suffered, in comparison to Emily and Charlotte’s novels, for not being the right book at the right time — it’s scandalous nature shocked 19th-century readers, and Anne’s preface turned away more modern critics as the book became perceived as morally didactic.
Though The Tenant was a commercial success, following Anne’s death, it was not renewed for continuing publication as Charlotte, now in charge of the family’s estate, viewed the novel with embarrassment. In 1850, Charlotte wrote: “Wildfell Hall, it hardly appears to me desirable to preserve. The choice of subject in that work is a mistake, it was too little consonant with the character, tastes and ideas of the gentle, retiring inexperienced writer.” Ouch! Because of her sister’s snub, Anne’s work fell by the wayside for many decades, only recently — as of about 30 years — reintroduced into literary scholarship.
Political contexts and literary trends aside, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is well worth the read. It’s a surprising tale that feels at times remarkably modern while representing the truth of its time. The characters, though often terrible, are terribly real, feel full of life and nuance and personality. There’s so much more that could be said about this fascinating novel. We had a great time discussing it!
Up next for the Cape May MAC book club, to be discussed on July 2nd, is The Wonderful Adventures of Mary Seacole in Many Lands, an 1857 memoir by possibly one of history’s most interesting figures, the Afro-Caribbean nurse, war hero, and writer Mary Seacole. Learn more here and join us throughout the summer for lesser-known Victorian reads!
