The Carlyles at Home by Thea Holme
published 1965
(also Parallel Lives by Phyllis Rose, published 1983)
[excerpt] Christmas in the 1840s was the occasion – as indeed it
still is – for a great slaughtering of beasts and birds; and butchers’ shops in
Chelsea were filled with gruesome works of art, decorated, as Jane [Carlyle]
noted in horrified fascination, with holly, and ‘very coquettish bows’ of blue
and red ribbon. ‘a number of persons,’ she said, were gazing at the arrangement
of dead animals in one shop window, ‘with a grave admiration beyond anything I
ever saw testified towards any picture in the National Gallery! The butcher
himself was standing beside it, receiving their silent enthusiasm with a look
of Artist-pride struggling to keep within the bounds of Christian humility.’
‘Last Christmas,’ she remembered, ‘another of our Chelsea
butchers…regaled the public with the spectacle of a living prize-calf,
on the breast of which (poor wretch) was branded – like writing on turf - “6d per lb”. And the public gathered about
this unfortunate with the greedy look of cannibals.’
comments: This charming book (lent to
me by Chrissie
Poulson) gives a fascinating picture of Victorian
Britain, and also very specifically of Thomas and Jane Carlyle.
The couple moved into a house in Cheyne Walk, in Chelsea in
London in 1834, and stayed there for the rest of their lives. Thomas was one of
the leading historians and thinkers of the age, famous for his books on The
French Revolution and Frederick the Great. His wife Jane was very
intelligent and well-educated (partly by her husband) and an heiress is a small
kind of way – Thomas didn’t make any money to speak of till late in his life. Phyllis
Rose, in Parallel Lives, her marvellous book about some Victorian
marriages, compares Jane with Emma, the heroine of Jane Austen’s 1815 book,
and it’s a thought-provoking idea. Only this Emma has by no means married Mr
Knightley.
The (roughly) contemporary writer Samuel Butler is the
source of a famous quote about the pair: "It was very good of God to let
Carlyle and Mrs. Carlyle marry one another and so make only two people
miserable instead of four."
And it is a fascinating relationship, raising all kinds of
questions about feminism, genius, and housework. There seems little doubt that
they loved each other very much, and made the best of things, and worked
together through various struggles. After she died, Thomas was horrified to
read in her letters and diaries about much unhappiness (Phyllis Rose, interestingly,
thinks some of this was performative by Jane, aimed at presenting herself as a
victim.) Thea Holme doesn’t really go there in this book, but she does make it
clear that life wasn’t easy for this Victorian housewife – the book is very
much seen through her eyes.
One of their best friends said of them ‘No-one who visited
the Carlyles at home could tell whether they were poor or rich’. They certainly
had friends who were a lot better-off, and there is a sad element of Jane
supporting and helping her husband in creating his great work, running the
household. Then when he is being lionized she feels inadequate, dowdy,
unsociable and ignored. In particular Thomas becomes very friendly with the wealthy
and beautiful Lady Harriet Ashburton.
However the tone of the book, and of Jane’s letters which
are a key source, is surprisingly cheerful, amusing and entertaining.
Other people’s relationships are always a mystery, and
impossible to be certain about, but what I took from these two books:
1) Thomas
Carlyle was as completely thoughtless and selfish as, apparently, all
respectable Victorian men, assuming the world would be run for their benefit.
No-one can know whether Jane Carlyle could have achieved more as, say, a writer
if she had had the opportunities…
We can only see them through 21st century eyes.
2) Bolshy
me says that they treated the servants appallingly, but again no differently
from every other Victorian household. ‘In her 32 years at Cheyne Row, 34 maids
came and went, not counting charwomen, little girls and other temporary
makeshifts.’ I think this speaks for itself. One of the most telling facts
comes early on: the maid sleeps in the kitchen, but Thomas likes sitting in the
kitchen, so she must wait, shivering and tired, elsewhere till she can go to
bed. Presumably to get up at 5am to start the housework.
The Holme book is a delight. The author lived in the
Carlyle house, which is a memorial to Thomas: her husband was the curator there
for the National Trust. There are charming illustrations by Lynton Lamb – and
the whole book would be worth it for the wonderful endpaper picture - at the top of the post:
In the spring of 1857, the painter and photographer Robert
Tait, 'a Dumfriesshire man from near Moffat, living in London, and frequenting
the Carlyles', 'took the bright idea that a Picture of our sitting room would
be amazingly interesting to posterity a hundred years hence'. After completing
the work, the artist himself opined that the picture would keep his name alive,
when better painters were forgotten.
Copyright National Trust
A few years ago I embarked on reading Sartor Restartus, one
of Thomas Carlyle’s most revered works. I had good reason to try it: it has
been described thus:
The book is increasingly recognized as "the founding
text for the emergence of the serious and organized study of clothing",
otherwise termed "dress studies" or "fashion theory". How very CiB. You might think.
Well, we didn’t get on. I wrote in my notes: ‘Weird
satirical classic: mind-numbingly dull to the point of unreadability.’
For this reason I have never embarked on his French
Revolution book, despite my feverish interest in the topic in 2024: The
French Revolution. One day.
Thomas Carlyle is much featured in the Lyttelton/Hart-Davis
Letters, subject of two
blogposts early in 2025. Unsurprisingly, the two men
were fans.
Christmas butchers – can’t find a photo of one early
enough, but did enjoy this selection of Xmas meats:
A butcher’s shop of the 1880s, actually in Shrewsbury, from
The
National Media Museum.
Christmas butcher’s interior – 1920 and Canada, from the Alberta
Archives.
Two more pictures of a shop in Canada, Community Archives.
I did feel sorry for Jane, reading this. And even by Victorian standards, surely Carlyle was exceptionally selfish and entitled. I can't imagine Trollope hogging the kitchen and making the little maid suffer. As for Jane: who knows what she might have been capable of. The best options were to remain single (the Brontes, Jane Austen) or find one of the rare men who would recognise your genius (George Eliot. Elizabeth Barrett Browning). I did have to reread Carlyle at one point. He has not worn well.
ReplyDeleteThe phrase "feminism, genius and housework" reminded me of a review of the film Julia with Jane Fonda and Vanessa Redgrave. Fonda played the noted writer Lillian Hellman and had some scenes of home life with Dashiel Hammett. The movie was about women's friendship and dedication to a cause, but this review included the incredible remark that the reviewer couldn't help but wonder who made the beds in the Hellman/Hammett household. Now maybe the film wasn't as engrossing as it wanted to be, but if it had been about men instead of women that remark would never have been made.
ReplyDeleteWhat an interesting look at the Carlyles and at the era, Moira. I must say, I'm not a vegan, but that's a stark description of the butcher shop! As I was reading your post, I was thinking about the place of women and what that meant for the Carlyles, and there you were mentioning it. And I agree with you about the treatment of servants, too. All in all, it sounds like an engaging read.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I wonder how geniuses of the male variety manage to get their enormous heads through doorways! (Probably with the help of women who enable their awful behavior.)
ReplyDelete