Beth Bonini's Reviews > Ruth

As one of the enduring Victorian novelists, Elizabeth Gaskell is known for several things: her Northern settings (primarily in Manchester, Cheshire and Lancashire), her social activism, and her religious beliefs. All of these came together in a particularly affecting way in her masterpiece North and South. Ruth, although appealing in some ways, is a much lesser accomplishment as a novel - and I think its internal conflicts, not to mention its excessive religiousity - hinders the point that Gaskell wanted to make in terms of its protagonist. Although it tackles a controversial topic for its time period, its treatment of that topic doesn't hold up so well for a modern audience.

In her charitable work in Manchester, Gaskell came into close contact with many women whose lives had been blighted (or certainly made more difficult) by sex outside of marriage and the resulting (illegitimate) children. Gaskell recognised that women were both blamed and punished for this evidence of their sexuality; and that there was a double standard where men were concerned. In Ruth, one gets the sense that Gaskell is bending over backwards to show how blameless her own heroine is, despite her unforgivable 'sin'. The result of this is that she doesn't leave much room for compassion for the much more ordinary and likely 'sinner' - ie, a woman who is the victim of unfortunate circumstances. Gaskell goes to great lengths to present Ruth as a true innocent - an orphan of gentle birth, without friends or family, who has been apprenticed to a dressmaker. From the beginning, we are told of Ruth's great beauty and her innocence. When a young man, Mr. Bellingham, begins surreptitiously courting Ruth, he only has access to her because her employer is too cheap to feed her on Sundays. (Ruth goes to church and then spends the day wandering around the countryside.) But never mind that; when her employer sees Ruth and the son of one of her best clients walking together, she becomes incensed and dismisses Ruth from her employment. With no one else to turn to, it's no great surprise that Ruth is taken under Mr. Bellingham's protection. But at that point, it's actually quite difficult for the reader to think of Ruth as a sexual creature. Her childlike qualities are so emphasised that it is a bit of a shock when she ends up pregnant - even though that is obviously where the story is heading.

On one hand, Mrs. Gaskell knew she was taking on a controversial topic: she wants her middle-class, pious Victorian audience to sympathise with a 'fallen woman'. But here's the rub: Gaskell makes Ruth so pure, so angelic, so self-effacing and so willing to suffer for her 'crime', that it doesn't feel like there is any real woman in the character. Even given the Victorian penchant for angelic women, this is all going a bit too far. If Ruth is so innocent, why is she made to suffer so much? The ending - even if you do believe that death will earn you some 'eternal reward' in terms of heaven and being reunited with God - feels like another punishment. Far from being socially revolutionary, the message of the novel feels retrograde to me.

In one of the storylines of the novel, involving the Bradshaw family who employ Ruth as a governess, Mrs. Gaskell makes it clear that no one is without sin: "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her." It's a very predictable novel in many ways, full of obvious foreshadowing, and you don't have to be that experienced of a reader to realise that Mr. Bradshaw's pride in his (and his family's) own morality will go before a fall.

Ruth ends up being taken in by a household of Dissenters: a middle-aged brother and sister and their servant Sally, who has been with them since they were young children. Thurston Benson, a minister of a small congregation, is presented sympathetically - and as a man who strives to live in a way that reflects his beliefs, not just for outer show but from deepest conviction. When he brings Ruth into his household - rescuing her after she is abandoned by Bellingham - he decides to tell a lie, to say that Ruth is a widow, in order to save her and her unborn child from rejection and censure. One of the philosophical questions of the novel is whether the end justifies the means; or in the words of Mr. Farquhar (a secondary character): "Are there not occasions when it is absolutely necessary to wade through evil to good?" Pragmatism and piety really do struggle in this novel, but piety - not always convincingly - wins the day.

3.5 stars