Victorian Literature and Culture Series – serie

Albright contends that Tennyson's ``aesthetic goals were . . . in conflict'' and that his poetry attempts to ``unite two incompatible poetics,'' one governed by a heavenly muse, the other by an earthly muse suspicious of the idealizations and abstractions held dear by the first. The result is a poetry of ``myopia and astigmatism.'' With its neatly pursued argument and jargon-free text, this study offers many insights, though a readership fluently conversant with the Tennysonian opus (not just the major poems) is assumed. This is a good beginning for the Virginia Victorian Studies series, which will deal in literary topics from 1830 to 1914. Presumably the series, like this book, will be aimed at an audience at the advanced undergraduate level or above. The book is recommended, accordingly.

Matthew Arnold was one of the nineteenth century's greatest spokesmen for the saving power of culture, especially of poetry, to substitute for a vanishing religion. Yet he was persistently troubled throughout his career by the difficulty of finding adequate authority in language. Matthew Arnold and the Betrayal of Language explores Arnold's attempts to find an authoritative language, and argues that his occasional claims for such a language reveal more uneasiness than confidence in the value of ""letters."" It examines Arnold's poetry within this context and demonstrates that his various experiments - to speak in oracular voice, to use classic forms, to achieve a grand style - and their failures, reflect the inevitable difficulties facing any poet in an age of intellectual and cultural upheaval. Riede argues that Arnold's determined efforts to write with authority, combined with his deep-seated suspicion of his medium, result in an exciting if often agonized tension in his poetic language - a language that strains against its inevitable but generally unacknowledged limitations.

One of the characteristic features of Victorian poetry is dimness, a vanishing away-things blur with the motion of their passing, which seems inseparable from the mind's fading as it lets them go. Tennyson, Rossetti, Swinburne, and the young Yeats are elegists of the self; they render life as transparent, ghostlike, dissolving, ungraspable, nearly unrememberable. This vanishing away, this dimness, of Victorian poetry is most obvious in the twilights, mists, shadows, deep horizons, and flowing waters of its central landscape, but it is also a matter of sound and syntax, of repetition and rhythm, texture and line movement. Vanishing Lives examines these features and links them to larger issues, such as the psychology of the individual poets, and the Victorian and modern frames of mind. The tendencies under consideration are less ideas than forms or styles of feeling. They are so universal in the nineteenth century that they may not seem to call for comment, but for all their vagueness they are deep, powerful, resistant to change-an essential stratum of the experience of Victorian poetry. For poets like Yeats, who struggled to move beyond them, they were far more than the trappings of an outmoded poetry. They were a deeply ingrained aesthetic, a style, a morality, not only a way of art to be revised, but a way of living to be outgrown-a Tennysonian way.

Conrad's major novels-Lord Jim, Nostromo, The Secret Agent, and Under Western Eyes-tell of illusions and betrayals, dreams and lies. Ambiguity, contradiction, and irony so dominate the narratives that the more closely one reads, the more difficult it becomes to know what is real or what is true. While Conrad's impressionism teaches one to see, his irony casts doubt on the meaning of what one has seen. Facts have little value, yet beliefs are futile or hollow because they ignore facts. Irony turns every certainty into uncertainty. Even the cultural values upon which the irony seems to rest are often mocked. This perplexity, which is the binding force of Conrad's art, is thoroughly examined in Culture and Irony.

Linda K. Hughes and Michael Lund provide a new approach to the study of installment literature by showing how it embodied a view of life intrinsic to Victorian culture. They examine how the serial format affected the ways Victorian audiences interpreted sixteen major works of poetry and fiction. Their findings show that Victorian interpretations were different from those of twentieth century single-volume readings. Hughes and Lund conclude that in order to understand Victorian literature, we must understand serialization, since it was the vehicle for the best literature of the age. Further, they assert we must understand serialization as a literary form attuned to the fundamental spirit of the age.

From setting foot in Asia in 1849 (or was it 1845?) as Anna Crawford (or was it Anna Edwards?) to waltzing with Yul Brynner in glorious technicolor, Anna Leonowens and her romanticized experiences as the only Westerner behind the walls of Nang Harm (the walled harem of the king of Siam) have had a long, colourful, and often controversial existence. Reproduced here is the original 1873 edition of "The Romance of the Harem" by Anna Leonowens (long out of print) which was the source for a 20th century book "Anna and the King of Siam" known to us all through Rogers and Hammerstein's "The King and I". "Why", asks Susan Morgan in her provocative introduction, "should we read this obscure travel account, with its dubious and often inaccurate or uncheckable facts and its author of shady repute?" For several reasons: first, the narrative speaks in its unique way to three of the most incendiary issues in 19th century England and America - imperialism, slavery and women's rights. Further, "Romance" is the only inside story ever written by a Westerner of life behind harem walls in 19th-century Thailand.Every morning for more than 5 years, Anna Leonowens took her young son by the hand and walked into an isolated community of 9000 women and children. And finally, when accepted as fictionalized history, Anna Leonowens's dramatic stories about some of the women in that harem take a prominent place on the growing shelf of rediscovered 19th century women's travel narratives. This book is an addition to women's studies programs, Asian studies, literature and history courses. It should also fascinate general readers with a taste for exotic cultures and settings.

The professional success achieved by W. S. Gilbert was unique in nineteenth-century English theater: he was the first dramatist ever to be knighted for his stage works, which yielded him a fortune that his less prosperous playwriting predecessors could scarcely have imagined. The Savoy operas-so called after the theater at which most of them were originally produced-were comedies. But comedy, in its traditional form, was hardly congenial to the prevailing social prejudices of the Victorian age: it features the triumph of rebelliousness over laws and rules, ridicules the keepers of the established order, and celebrates the victory of the erotic instinct over repression. Spectacles of this kind were especially uncomfortable for the newly arrived middle class, intent on making itself conspicuous for its dedication to respectability and duty. In fact, before Gilbert's Savoy productions, many of the bourgeoisie refused altogether to patronize the English stage, where the dominant form was comedy in its various guises. Beginning with H. M. S. Pinafore, Fischler demonstrates how Gilbert made it his business to cater to the sensibilities of the middle class through the structure he imposed on his plots, the approach he took to characterization, and the treatment he accorded erotic love, the quintessential theme of comedy. The book's conclusions not only illuminate Gilbert's own comic practice but point the way toward a new understanding of the transactions between comedy in general and the spirit of the Victorian age.

Emily Shore's journal is the unique self-representation of a prodigious young Victorian woman. From July 5, 1831, at the age of eleven, until June 24, 1839, two weeks before her death from consumption, Margaret Emily Shore recorded her reactions to the world around her. She wrote of political issues, natural history, her progress as a scholar and scientist, and the worlds of art and literature. In her brief life, this remarkable young woman also produced, but did not publish, three novels, three books of poetry, and histories of the Jews, the Greeks, and the Romans, and she published several essays on birds. Written in an authoritative voice more often associated with men of her time, her journal reveals her to be well versed in the life of an early Victorian woman.

Despite feminist reassessments to the contrary, the conventional view that Elizabeth Gaskell personified the Victorian feminine ideal is still very much in place today. Challenging that view in an experimental biography, Felicia Bonaparte proposes that there lived in ""Mrs. Gaskell"" another, antithetical self, a daemonic double, that was not an angel in the house but instead a creature born to be a ""gypsy-bachelor."" Bonaparte does not dispute that ""Mrs. Gaskell"" did exist, but she suggests that Gaskell conceived her, as much as any fictional character, out of a desperate need produced by her childhood experience of rejection and abandonment, in order to gain the love of friends and family and the approval of the world. Gaskell herself, Bonaparte argues, told the story of her double in images encoded in her letters, fiction, and life. Using the methods of literary criticism for biographical ends, Bonaparte traces a pattern of these images, showing how a metaphor that may turn up as a figure of speech in one of Gaskell's letters may be embodied in a character in one of her short stories, dramatized in an incident or plot in one of her novels, and even actualized in an action or a relationship in her life. To reach the inner woman, Bonaparte claims, it is necessary to ""read"" Gaskell's letters, fiction, and life as a single poetic text. In addition to presenting a radically different interpretation both of Gaskell and of her literary work, Bonaparte's unique approach opens up interesting possibilities in a number of other areas: in the writing of biography, in the analysis of metaphor in the nineteenth-century novel, in the study of the relationship between literature and life, in the exploration of links between the inner and outer self, and in women's studies generally.

Author and Printer in Victorian England demonstrates that printing technology shapes texts. The technology involved was a nineteenth-century revolution in printing methods; the texts were classic literary works by Victorian authors. What was at stake was textual control: who would decide how the text would read-author, compositor, printer's reader, or publisher? In a unique fusion of literary history and printing history, Allan C. Dooley explores the interactions between individual authors and their publishers and printers. He takes the reader through each stage of a work's development, illustrating how authors attempted to perfect and protect their writings from compositional manuscript through stereotyped reprints. His analysis includes details of a wide range of technical innovations and changes in practices in the printing of books between the development of printing machines in the 1830s and 1840s and the introduction of the Linotype in the 1890s. Drawing on the experiences of leading Victorian authors, he shows how nineteenth-century printing practices both enhanced and diminished writers' abilities to control texts. He reveals that much more was under their control than has commonly been believed and that many authors took advantage of printing technologies in order to gain and maintain control over the texts of their works. But new kinds of errors and new sources of inaccuracy were introduced by the technology as well.

This book recovers and explores an important tradition of nineteenth-century women's poetry from Felicia Hemans to Charlotte Mew. Angela Leighton not only discusses the work of neglected poets such as Augusta Webster and ""Michael Field,"" but also charts the development of women's poetry from sentimentalism of Hemans and L.E.L. (Letitia Elizabeth Landon) to the various strategies of self-displacement employed by the best of the Victorians, especially Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Christina Rossetti.Combining biographical material with theoretical readings of the poems, Angela Leighton offers a reinterpretation not only of some original and intriguing literature, but also of the very canon of Victorian poetry. Impressive in scope and highly original in its aims, this study will serve as the main critical work in this area for many years to come.

Simon Gatrell offers a fresh and stimulating exploration of Hardy's account in fiction of the individual man or woman's relationship with various aspects of the encompassing world- with other men and women, with the aggregation known as society, with the natural and artificial environment, and with the supernatural. He focuses on the importance of community in Hardy's fiction, especially on the ability of rural villages and towns to withstand the stresses of industrialized agriculture and the national standardization of education and culture.

Paradise Dislocated offers a radical rereading of William Morris's neglected masterpiece, The Earthly Paradise. While most critics have seen this poem as the antithesis of the radical socialist politics that Morris embraced later in his career, or, at best, as an awkward prelude to that later development, Jeffrey Skoblow proposes that The Earthly Paradise is in fact central to Morris's political vision-indeed, it is the most radical manifestation of that vision. Paradise Dislocated explores the problematic relations between critical thought, art, utopian aspirations, and dystopian realities. It proposes a revaluation of Morris's poem and of his career as a whole, as well as a judgement upon the possibilities (and impossibilities) of imaginative and cultural criticism at Morris's moment-and at our own.

The author traces the phenomenon of ascribing sentimental meaning to floral imagery from its beginnings in Napoleonic France through its later transformations in England and America. At the heart of the book is a depiction of what the three most important flower books from each of the countries divulge about the period and the respective cultures. Seaton shows that the language of flowers was not a single and universally understood correlation of flowers to meanings that men and women used to communicate in matters of love and romance. The language differs from book to book, country to country. To place the language of flowers in social and literary perspective, the author examines the nineteenth-century uses of flowers in everyday life and in ceremonies and rituals and provides a brief history of floral symbolism. She also discusses the sentimental flower book, a genre especially intended for female readers. Two especially valuable features of the book are its table of correlations of flowers and their meanings from different sourcebooks and its complete bibliography of language of flower titles. This book will appeal not only to scholars in Victorian studies and women's studies but also to art historians, book collectors, museum curators, historians of horticulture, and anyone interested in nineteenth-century popular culture.

In the nineteenth century, a woman who could prove a man had broken his promise to marry her was legally entitled to compensation for damages. Bridging the gap between history and literature, Ginger S. Frost offers an in-depth examination of these breaches of promise and compares actual with fictional cases. Althought the most important factor in determining the outcome of such trials was gender, class was also vital in assessing the suitability of mates. Promises Broken highlights the courtship practices of lower- and middle- class Victorians, a group much neglected in previous scholarship.

In this major reinterpretation of the Victorian Aesthetic Movement, Linda Dowling argues that such classic works of Victorian art writing such as Ruskin's Stones of Venice of Morris's Lectures on Art or Wilde's Critic as Artist become wholly intelligible only within the larger ideological context of the Whig aesthetic tradition.The Vulgarization of Art explores the tragic consequences for the Aesthetic Movement when a repressed and irresolvable conflict between Shaftesbury's assumption of ""aristocratic soul"" and the Victorian ideal of ""aesthetic democracy"" repeatedly shatters the hopes of such writers as Ruskin, Morris, Pater, and Wilde for social transformation through the aesthetic sense.

This modern, critical reading of ""Fors Clavigera"" places this classic work in the context of its Victorian contemporaries, such as art journals and popular criticism. By recreating the intellectual climate, this work demonstrates the sense of cultural crisis and change evident at the time.

For much of her own century, Elizabeth Gaskell was recognized as a voice of Victorian convention - the loyal wife, good mother, and respected writer - a reputation that led to her steady decline in the view of twentieth-century literary critics. Recent scholars, however, have begun to recognize that Mrs. Gaskell's high standing in Victorian society allowed her to effect change in conventional ideology. Linda K. Hughes and Michael Lund focus this reevaluation on issues pertaining to the Victorian literary marketplace.Victorian Publishing and Mrs. Gaskell's Work portrays an elusive and self-aware writer whose refusal to grant authority to a single perspective even while she recirculated the fundamental assumptions and debates of her era enabled her simultaneously to fulfill and deflect the expectations of the literary marketplace. While she wrote for money, producing periodical fiction, major novels, and nonfiction, Mrs. Gaskell was able to maintain a tone of warmth and empathy that allowed her to imagine multiple social and epistemological alternatives. Writing from within the established rubrics of gender, narrative, and publication format, she nevertheless performed important cultural work.

The Child, the State, and the Victorian Novel traces the the story of victimized childhood to its origins in nineteenth-century Britain. Almost as soon as ""childhood"" became a distinct category, Laura C. Berry contends, stories of children in danger were circulated as part of larger debates about child welfare and the role of the family in society.Berry examines the nineteenth-century fascination with victimized children to show how novels and reform writings reorganize ideas of self and society as narratives of childhood distress. Focusing on classic childhood stories such as Oliver Twist and novels that are not conventionally associated with particular social problems, such as Dickens's Dombey and Son, the Brontë sisters' Wuthering Heights and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, and George Eliot's Adam Bede, Berry shows the ways in which fiction that purports to deal with private life, particularly the domain of the family, nevertheless intervenes in public and social debates. At the same time she examines medical, legal, charitable, and social-relief writings to show how these documents provide crucial sources in the development of social welfare and modern representations of the family.

In recent years Christina Rossetti's star has soared. Rossetti (1830-1894) has come to be considered one of the major poets - not just one of the major women poets - of the Victorian era, eclipsing her famous brother. Leading critics have demonstrated how studies of Rossetti's work, her daily life, her relationships with the Pre-Raphaelites, and her interactions with other women authors of the period can help us understand the unique cultural situation of Victorian women writers. When complete in four volumes, this project will make available all of Rossetti's extant letters, almost two-thirds of which have never been published. The third volume of the ""Letters"" covers years in which Christina Rossetti lost several important family members, including her mother, her brother Dante, and a young nephew, Michael, and many close friends. Her preoccupation with their illnesses and with memorializing her brother took its toll on her poetic output. In the face of her loss, she turned increasingly to religion and wrote works of devotional prose - ""Time Flies"", ""Letter and Spirit"" - not designed to attract much literary attention. Rossetti herself had been diagnozed with Graves' disease in 1872; by 1874 she had recovered but continued to use her earlier health problems to identify herself as a ""semi-recluse"", which allowed her a degree of freedom she might not have had otherwise. This self-imposed reclusiveness gave rise to a large correspondence, in which her interest and sensibilities were given broad exposure. She devoted more time to favoured causes, including antivivisectionism and the protection of minors, and her letters afford the reader an in-depth perspective on these and other public issues and on the personal values underlying her opinions.

Scholars have long recognized that narrative suspense dominates the formal dynamics of 19th-century British fiction, both high and low. But few have asked why suspense played such a crucial role in the Victorian novel and in Victorian culture more broadly. This study argues that a startling array of 19th-century thinkers - from John Ruskin to Michael Faraday to Charlotte Bronte and Wilkie Collins - saw suspense as the perfect vehicle for a radically new approach to knowledge that they called ""realism"". Although by convention suspense has belonged to the realm of sensational mysteries and gothic horrors, and realism to the world of sober, reformist, middle-class domesticity, the two were in fact inextricably intertwined. The real was defined precisely as that which did not belong to the mind, that which stood separate from patterns of thought and belief. In order to get at the truth of the real, readers would have to learn to suspend their judgement. Suspenseful plots were the ideal vehicles for disseminating this experience of doubt, training readers to pause before leaping to conclusions. Far from being merely low or sensational, the mysteries of many plotted texts were intended to introduce readers to a rigorous epistemological training borrowed from science. And far from being complacently conservative, suspense was deliberately employed to encourage a commitment to scepticism and uncertainty. Carole Levine argues convincingly that the 19th-century critics were not wrong about suspense: the classic readerly text was indeed far more writerly - dynamic, critical, questioning and indeterminate - than modern critics have been inclined to imagine. Offering official readings of canonical texts, including ""Jane Eyre"", ""Great Expectations"", ""The Moonstone"" and ""The Picture of Dorian Gray"", and drawing on a range of historical sources, from popular fiction and art criticism to the philosophy of science and scientific biography, Levine combines narrative theory and the history of ideas to offer a rereading of 19th-century realism.

Referred to long ago as a ""disease"" of Swiss soldiers and Highland regiments far from home, nostalgia became known in the 1920s as more of a fleeting rather than debilitating condition. Yet, what caused this shift in our collective understanding of the term? In ""Nostalgia in Transition, 1780-1917"", Linda M. Austin traces the development of nostalgia from a memory disorder in the eighteenth century to its modern formulation as a pleasant recreational distraction. Offering a paradigm for and analysis of nostalgic memory as it operates in various attempts to reenact the past, Austin explains both the early and the modern understanding of this phenomenon. Beginning with an account of nostalgia's transformation from an acute form of melancholia and homesickness into elegiac expression and idyllic representation, Austin goes on to examine an array of texts, from poetic meditations on nostalgia in the first half of the nineteenth century to the popular adult souvenirs of childhood in the second half. She shows how, in novels by Hardy; in elegies and lyrics by Arnold, Tennyson, and Emily Bronte; in illustrations by Kate Greenaway and Helen Allingham; and in late Victorian cultural histories of the cottage, nostalgia acts as a collective, rather than an individual reenactment of an invented, rather than a remembered, past or place. For students and scholars interested in the Victorian era, as well as in Romanticism and modernism, ""Nostalgia in Transition"" provides a well-rounded perspective on how and why our understanding of nostalgia has changed over time.

Antony Harrison's approach is quite special within the field of Victorian poetry. He resists treating poems as purely aesthetic objects; instead, he sees them as cultural artifacts and, as such, as participants in contemporary cultural discourses. His strength is his ability to keep an eye on the specific language of a poem and, simultaneously, on the larger cultural discourse in which it participates. - Linda Peterson, Yale University

The Child, the State, and the Victorian Novel traces the the story of victimized childhood to its origins in nineteenth-century Britain. Almost as soon as ""childhood"" became a distinct category, Laura C. Berry contends, stories of children in danger were circulated as part of larger debates about child welfare and the role of the family in society.Berry examines the nineteenth-century fascination with victimized children to show how novels and reform writings reorganize ideas of self and society as narratives of childhood distress. Focusing on classic childhood stories such as Oliver Twist and novels that are not conventionally associated with particular social problems, such as Dickens's Dombey and Son, the Brontë sisters' Wuthering Heights and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, and George Eliot's Adam Bede, Berry shows the ways in which fiction that purports to deal with private life, particularly the domain of the family, nevertheless intervenes in public and social debates. At the same time she examines medical, legal, charitable, and social-relief writings to show how these documents provide crucial sources in the development of social welfare and modern representations of the family.

Despite feminist reassessments to the contrary, the conventional view that Elizabeth Gaskell personified the Victorian feminine ideal is still very much in place today. Challenging that view in an experimental biography, Felicia Bonaparte proposes that there lived in ""Mrs. Gaskell"" another, antithetical self, a daemonic double, that was not an angel in the house but instead a creature born to be a ""gypsy-bachelor."" Bonaparte does not dispute that ""Mrs. Gaskell"" did exist, but she suggests that Gaskell conceived her, as much as any fictional character, out of a desperate need produced by her childhood experience of rejection and abandonment, in order to gain the love of friends and family and the approval of the world. Gaskell herself, Bonaparte argues, told the story of her double in images encoded in her letters, fiction, and life. Using the methods of literary criticism for biographical ends, Bonaparte traces a pattern of these images, showing how a metaphor that may turn up as a figure of speech in one of Gaskell's letters may be embodied in a character in one of her short stories, dramatized in an incident or plot in one of her novels, and even actualized in an action or a relationship in her life. To reach the inner woman, Bonaparte claims, it is necessary to ""read"" Gaskell's letters, fiction, and life as a single poetic text. In addition to presenting a radically different interpretation both of Gaskell and of her literary work, Bonaparte's unique approach opens up interesting possibilities in a number of other areas: in the writing of biography, in the analysis of metaphor in the nineteenth-century novel, in the study of the relationship between literature and life, in the exploration of links between the inner and outer self, and in women's studies generally.

Author and Printer in Victorian England demonstrates that printing technology shapes texts. The technology involved was a nineteenth-century revolution in printing methods; the texts were classic literary works by Victorian authors. What was at stake was textual control: who would decide how the text would read-author, compositor, printer's reader, or publisher? In a unique fusion of literary history and printing history, Allan C. Dooley explores the interactions between individual authors and their publishers and printers. He takes the reader through each stage of a work's development, illustrating how authors attempted to perfect and protect their writings from compositional manuscript through stereotyped reprints. His analysis includes details of a wide range of technical innovations and changes in practices in the printing of books between the development of printing machines in the 1830s and 1840s and the introduction of the Linotype in the 1890s. Drawing on the experiences of leading Victorian authors, he shows how nineteenth-century printing practices both enhanced and diminished writers' abilities to control texts. He reveals that much more was under their control than has commonly been believed and that many authors took advantage of printing technologies in order to gain and maintain control over the texts of their works. But new kinds of errors and new sources of inaccuracy were introduced by the technology as well.

In this major reinterpretation of the Victorian Aesthetic Movement, Linda Dowling argues that such classic works of Victorian art writing such as Ruskin's Stones of Venice of Morris's Lectures on Art or Wilde's Critic as Artist become wholly intelligible only within the larger ideological context of the Whig aesthetic tradition.The Vulgarization of Art explores the tragic consequences for the Aesthetic Movement when a repressed and irresolvable conflict between Shaftesbury's assumption of ""aristocratic soul"" and the Victorian ideal of ""aesthetic democracy"" repeatedly shatters the hopes of such writers as Ruskin, Morris, Pater, and Wilde for social transformation through the aesthetic sense.

The professional success achieved by W. S. Gilbert was unique in nineteenth-century English theater: he was the first dramatist ever to be knighted for his stage works, which yielded him a fortune that his less prosperous playwriting predecessors could scarcely have imagined. The Savoy operas-so called after the theater at which most of them were originally produced-were comedies. But comedy, in its traditional form, was hardly congenial to the prevailing social prejudices of the Victorian age: it features the triumph of rebelliousness over laws and rules, ridicules the keepers of the established order, and celebrates the victory of the erotic instinct over repression. Spectacles of this kind were especially uncomfortable for the newly arrived middle class, intent on making itself conspicuous for its dedication to respectability and duty. In fact, before Gilbert's Savoy productions, many of the bourgeoisie refused altogether to patronize the English stage, where the dominant form was comedy in its various guises. Beginning with H. M. S. Pinafore, Fischler demonstrates how Gilbert made it his business to cater to the sensibilities of the middle class through the structure he imposed on his plots, the approach he took to characterization, and the treatment he accorded erotic love, the quintessential theme of comedy. The book's conclusions not only illuminate Gilbert's own comic practice but point the way toward a new understanding of the transactions between comedy in general and the spirit of the Victorian age.

In the nineteenth century, a woman who could prove a man had broken his promise to marry her was legally entitled to compensation for damages. Bridging the gap between history and literature, Ginger S. Frost offers an in-depth examination of these breaches of promise and compares actual with fictional cases. Althought the most important factor in determining the outcome of such trials was gender, class was also vital in assessing the suitability of mates. Promises Broken highlights the courtship practices of lower- and middle- class Victorians, a group much neglected in previous scholarship.