Consequences - Chapter 15

CHAPTER 14 - Mary’s Journal

May 24th

Well, it is over; I am now Mrs. Charles Simpson Walker. The wedding and breakfast went by perfectly. I really don’t think there was anyone in the group who realised that I was going to be a mother in four short months’ time; but now that the need for concealment is less demanding, I must say that I greatly enjoy the freedom of leaving off my corset on occasion.

Our wedding day had perfect weather, warm but not too hot, and with a pleasant breeze. The sun was shining and the flowers were blooming. I was very nervous that something would go wrong; Aunt Thackary was late, and then she didn’t arrange my hair quite as I wanted it; when I was getting dressed several of Charles’ cousins came to see me and I was worried they would touch my dress with their sticky hands; I’m afraid I was a bit harsh when I told them to go away.

Our church is only a short distance from the Inn, so there was no need for a carriage. We lined up with Eliza, the flower girl going first, and strewing lilac petals all down the path and into the street; she looked lovely and was enjoying her important role. The bridesmaids walked down the path, each looking demure. Both Father and Mother walked beside me to the church; they looked as nervous as I felt, but once we were on our way, I relaxed somewhat. What I had been waiting for since I first chose Charles to be my groom was now coming true, and I didn’t want to waste a moment of it.

The scent of the many bunches of lilacs filled the church. The organist triumphed with the Firework Music. Everyone stood up as we came into the church and turned to watch the procession. At the front I could see Charles and CG, both looking very handsome and the Rector Charles Johnstone (whose daughter Emily I know slightly) was looking rather impatient as we were somewhat tardy. The march ended just as we reached the front of the church, and Father said it was he who gave this woman away, and put my hand into Charles’. I handed my bouquet to Sophia and faced Charles. He looked both nervous and reassuring at the same time. The Rector read the lesson and when he came to the part about having your children like olive branches around your table, Charles squeezed my hand very firmly. Then there were prayers, the lovely solo, and our chosen hymns, which went well. Finally we made our promises – mine rather soft and trembling and Charles being loud and clear. Charles put the gold band with our initials engraved on it on my left ring finger. We had to sign the various documents and my parents, Charles’ Father, and Sophia and Mary Ann also signed as witnesses. Suddenly it was all over and we were walking back down the aisle, with the loud music throbbing around us, now husband and wife. Charles stopped just outside the church to kiss me and say, “I love you, Mrs. Charles Walker,” and I felt that nothing could ever be as wonderful again as that moment.

The reception went according to plan, and we were congratulated and greeted by all our family and friends in the reception line. Then when we had been seated at the head table, my father welcomed all to the wedding, and especially welcomed Charles into the family. His father, as the oldest Walker at the gathering, welcomed me into their family and gave a toast in champagne to the bride and groom. CG as the chief attendant also gave a speech and toasted the bridesmaids and then the breakfast began. It looked attractive and was tasty so I was well pleased with our choices.

After the meal, we went to view the presents which had been opened and left on display. I gave each of my attendants one of the flowers from my bouquet, and then it was time to leave. We picked up our bags, kissed our families good bye, and were taken by Charles’ father in his cab to the railway station. Our friends threw rice and some of the younger women threw their left shoes at the carriage wishing us good luck as we drove away.

This was my first train journey and I was very excited watching the countryside skim by. Charles has done much travelling by train and was amused by my enthusiasm. We had to change to another train in Leeds, and then had two hours of crossing the Pennine Hills and going through a very long tunnel before we arrived in Manchester at Victoria Station, which is large, having 17 platforms. We took a cab to Oxford Road where we are spending the first few nights at the Charterhouse Hotel. It is very close to the centre of the City and also near to the Palace Theatre, where we have tickets booked for later in the week. We were so tired, having arrived by train at 8 p.m. that we both were pleased to have our room ready for us. We had a quick evening meal, and made for our marriage bed – but this time without any feelings of worry or guilt. How different from our first rushed effort. Charles teasingly said, “I enjoy seeing the bulge in your middle, and feeling it move.” The baby’s gentle kicks are becoming harder each day. I still have to conceal my condition when we go out during the day, but nobody here knows that it is our honeymoon, so they wouldn’t question it even if they did suspect that I am expecting.

On Saturday we explored Manchester. Charles knew of my interest in Mrs. Elizabeth Gaskell’s work, and indeed he is very intrigued by the work of her husband William, so he arranged for us to travel to Cross Street Unitarian Church and meet up with the couple. Charles has many friends in Manchester, and so was able to make all the arrangements in advance. We were invited to tea at the Gaskells’ home and what a lovely place it is. It is a Georgian property, 42 Plymouth Grove, and is set in huge woods on the very edge of the city.

The door was opened for us by a maid, and then Mrs. Gaskell coming in behind her said, “Thank you Amelia. I will show our guests in. Perhaps you could take their coats.”

She seemed very familiar with her servant, and as if she realised what I was thinking, Mrs. Gaskell said, “Amelia is more like a daughter to me than a servant. She comes from the same area of Knutsford as I do, and I know both of her parents, the Winstanleys, and all of her grandparents. She has had some unfortunately doings at her home recently, so I invited her to come to be with us. We didn’t really need another maid, as we already have four others, but being only 17, she is mainly here to help my daughters, Florence and Julia.

The front hall is small and square with the library off to one side. You pass through the dining room which is where Mrs. Gaskell does her writing. I was amazed and thrilled to know that the stories I have been reading in the Household Words magazine for the past years, such as North and South and My Lady Ludlow are ones that she wrote. As no author was listed in the magazine, I assumed they were written by Mr. Dickens himself.

She told me that motherhood and the obligations of being a minister's wife kept her busy when they were first married. However, the death of her only son intensified both her sense of identity with the poor and her desire to express their hardship so that is when she began to write.

Her first novel, Mary Barton, told the story of a working-class family in which the father, John Barton, lapses into bitter class hatred and carries out a retaliatory murder at the behest of his trade union. From this she got to know Charles Dickens and he invited her to contribute to his magazine, Household Words, where her next major work, Cranford, appeared in 1853. This, her most popular work, described her girlhood village of Knutsford and the efforts of its shabby-genteel inhabitants to keep up appearances. It occurred to me to wonder if the maid Amelia’s family featured in her book.

Her work brought her many friends, including Charlotte Brontë. She told us about when Charlotte came to visit her once, and a visitor came to the door. When Mrs. Gaskell returned to the sitting room with the guest, Charlotte has disappeared. It was only after the guest had left that she came out of her hiding place behind the velvet curtain.

When Charlotte died in 1855, her father, Patrick Brontë, asked Mrs. Gaskell to write her biography. The Life of Charlotte Brontë was only finished a year or so ago and is much acclaimed. I do so love the stories written by Charlotte Brontë and read The Professor, published after her death, fairly recently. What a sad loss her death is to all of us.

Another of her visitors was Harriet Beacher Stowe who wrote Uncle Tom’s Cabin, a revolutionary story about the Negroes in the United States and their plight. The story has been made into a play and Mrs. Gaskell told me it will be performed next season in New York City under the name The Octaroon.

She asked me if I knew of the work of George Eliot, and I have read some of his work. She said she had only just found out that George Eliot is really a woman. She had suspected it before, as apparently Charles Dickens had, but with the publication earlier this year of Adam Bede, when someone else came forward to claim authorship, she felt she had to make herself known. She is Marion Evans, or Lewes, as she now calls herself, but she in truth is not married to Mr. Lewes, whose wife will not divorce him. Mrs. Gaskell said that she had been suspected of being George Eliot herself.

Mr. Gaskell and Charles spoke at length about the needs for improving sanitation in Manchester, and how it might be done. Charles told him how the cholera epidemic in Worcester in 1832 had killed 49 people and as a result the sewers were to be built, but by 1849 they had only done one mile of them, and although they are nearly all done now, it has taken much longer than anticipated. Mr. Gaskell told about what had been done so far in Manchester and what their plans are for the near future. The Gaskells are truly great reformers and we are very blessed to now number them amongst our friends.

May 22nd

We had a lovely peaceful day today. We travelled by train to Duckinfield on the Manchester London Road to Sheffield Line arriving there by 9.30 and got on a swift packet canal boat at 10 - being early in the season; we were just eight in the boat. The man in charge of the boat very kindly provided descriptions as we went along and I took notes. We went slowly along the beautiful countryside, following the Tame River until its junction with the Mersey. At Woodley Station, we entered a tunnel about 200 yards in length. The whole line on both sides abounded with beautiful rural views which must be seen to be appreciated. A bit farther along, after we saw Oakwood, a cotton mill, we went into Hyde Bank tunnel 311 feet and as there is no towing path, the propulsion was by ‘legging’ where the man in charge lay on his back and pushed with his feet against the tunnel as if walking, and thus moved the boat along. Having passed this tunnel and looking to our right we saw Marple Hall as it looks gloomily over the woods and vale below.

We then entered the little tunnel and looking down on which we had a view of the village of Compstall Bridge. Turning then to our left we wended our way down a beautiful, winding path which led us to the River Goyt, where looking to our left, we saw the aqueduct. It was such a pleasure seeing the scenic and unspoilt beauty of the countryside and landscape, such a relief from the grime and congestion of York. After we left the canal, we walked along a fairly newly built road and were struck by the bold beauty and variety of the scene before us, and we were told it cannot be equalled in any part of the country. We were too late for the church service, but went to the Queen’s Hotel for a cup of tea.

The hotel is of a rather grand appearance, better suited to a much larger and more important town. The interior was of quality, affording ample accommodation with many facilities for enjoyment.

We then went down the main road to what is called The Roman Lakes the waters that feed the huge cotton factory of Mr. Oldnow - an attractive name (nothing to do with the Romans) given to millponds constructed to power Mellor Mill and in an extremely popular location. The mill is a brick building, of six stories high, situated on the bank of the river Goyt, dividing the counties of Cheshire and Derbyshire. We went through a turnstile and found there were boats for hire, slot machines, postcards for sale (we sent one each to our respective parents) and even a dance floor. But we settled for having lunch at The Tea Gardens and then walked around the lake whilst avoiding the geese who perhaps were hoping for bread crumbs as they hissed at us. We watched a few hardy couples, as it was quite a chilly day, out boating or picnicking within the grounds. On the return trip we stopped for another cup of tea and piece of cake at Floodgate Cottages, on the way to the much praised Roman Bridge. Then we walked up a very steep hill to the canal and caught the packet boat back to Duckinfield, and hence the train back to Manchester at 5.23.

May 25th

Tonight, we are going to hear the Hallé Orchestra at Manchester Free Trade Hall as guests of the Gaskells. We have heard such good things about this new orchestra and it is said to be as good as the London Philharmonic. The Frenchman Charles Gounod is to be a guest conductor and he will lead several selections from his new opera Faust. They are also featuring the music of Louis Spohr who died this year. They will play his 8th Violin concerto - the best known of all his works.

May 26th

Today we will visit the Mechanic’s Institute which has kept a collection going of items from the Manchester Art Treasures’ Exhibition of a year and a half ago. The Gaskells told us all about it. This was the natural follow-up to the Great Exhibition of 1851 which Charles went to, but instead of highlighting industry and technology, the Manchester event brought together the private art collections of Great Britain. Indeed the Exhibition held a third of the country's art treasures including works from Queen Victoria and Prince Albert who both visited. Out of the event which took place at Old Trafford came the Hallé Orchestra who we heard playing magnificently last night. German Charles Hallé had assembled a group of musicians for the Exhibition to entertain the guests. The response encouraged him to form his orchestra. We could only take in a small amount of the exhibition but could have spent weeks looking at the displays which are only a fraction of what was there from the original collections.

This evening we will go to the Palace Theatre just across the road to see The Poor of Liverpool. It was performed in London a few years ago and has now come to the North of England. It is an adaptation of Eugène Nus and Édouard Brisebarre's Les Pauvres de Paris written in 1856. It will transfer to Liverpool in a week’s time.

May 28th

Yesterday we took the train to Liverpool spending the last days of our honeymoon by the sea. We are staying at the Crown Inn next to the station. We walked through the windy little lanes down Chapel Street to the quay. I very much enjoyed watching the boats unloading. We found the place on the East Float from which the people who are emigrating to Australia leave. I wonder what it must be like to make such a change in one’s life. Just moving from York to Worcester leaving one’s home and family behind seems a big adjustment to me. But for those families going to Australia, it will mean they may never see their families again. We went to St. Peter’s Church which proudly boasts having 10 bells. Charles said his church St. Martin’s is quite pleased to have four. We bought a piece of pottery – a small milk jug from Shaw’s Brow and Samuel Shaw himself waited on us. We had dinner with Charles’ relatives, the Coxes.

In talking with our Inn Keeper, he said that Liverpool which means Muddy Pool was founded by King John in 1007. But both Charles and I could top that. York was founded by the Romans in 71 AD, and Worcester even earlier in 50 AD, and not to be out done by references to King John, Charles informed him that King John, who died in 1016 is actually buried in Worcester Cathedral.

We read in today’s paper that Household Words is no longer to be published, but fortuitously Charles Dickens will start a new publication called All the Year Round. I do hope he continues to have books written in episodic fashion as I so much enjoy reading them.

I am so pleased with Charles for planning this week so well and with such treats in mind for me. It truly was a wonderful honeymoon, but tomorrow we must make our way back to our new home in Worcester. Charles asked me to choose whether we had an extra day of honeymoon, which will involve a convoluting journey back to Worcester, or curtail our stay in Liverpool to make it more straightforward. I said I preferred the extra day.