The Professor (1857) is English writer Charlotte Brontë's first novel. Rejected by several publishing houses, Brontë shelved the novel in order to write her masterpiece Jane Eyre (1847). After her death, The Professor was edited by Brontë's widower, Arthur Bell Nichols, who saw that the novel was published posthumously. Based on Brontë's experience as a student and teacher in Brussels--which similarly inspired her novel Villette--The Professor is an underappreciated early work from one of English literature's most important writers.
MY THOUGHTS:
This was the first book Charlotte Bronte ever wrote, although it was published posthumously, when her other masterpieces were already well known. Some critics think it might never have been regarded as fit to publish at all, except that she had made such a name for herself. I see their point, because although her writing is beautiful as ever, the plot and characterisation lack the great heart of Jane Eyre and Villette. The main character, William Crimsworth is a supercilious upstart if ever there was one, and my biggest problem with this book is that Charlotte intended him to be a conscientious, exemplary young hero who deserves our total love and support.
An orphan from babyhood, William shrugs off help from his snooty uncles on his mother's side of the family, instead seeking employment with his brother Edward, who is ten years his senior. At the age of 30, Edward is a wealthy manufacturer who identifies totally with their father's self-made, working class background and ethic. He grudgingly offers William a job as his clerk, all the while despising him because their aristocratic relatives had financed William's education through Eton, and also just because William gets on his nerves. Edward treats William with such atrocious unfairness that William eventually has a gutful and decides that heading across the channel to try his luck in Brussels would surely be no worse than working for his brother. So far, there's nothing not to love, right?
Charlotte Bronte has set our boy up in the perfect lone-underdog position to retain our sympathy all through, but then she unravels her good work with his attitude. Perhaps her big mistake is to write from William's first person perspective, because whenever he reveals his candid impressions, I groan out loud. He gains a teaching position in a boys' school (where they were all called 'professors') and also acquires a few teaching slots at the girls' school next door. From then on we get William's critique of staff and students alike, and nobody stands up to his scrutiny, sometimes for the nitpickiest of reasons.
He's racist, xenophobic, chauvinistic and ageist, dishing out harsh judgment on people's intelligence and physical features. And his outrageous reflections just keep coming. He assesses the figures of his female pupils as if they're cows at a market. Then this 21-year-old newcomer labels others as 'vulgar', 'inferior-looking', 'commonplace' and 'insignificant.' He makes snap negative judgments based on the shape of a girl's head or the cleanliness of her neck. And he is derogatory about their national Catholic faith, often with an eye-rolling, 'well, what would you expect?' sort of attitude. Or else, he struts about giving himself mental pats on the back because Mademoiselle Zoraide Reuter, the director of the girls' school, has found the weak spot of every other member of staff, but can get nothing on him!
I could never excuse his brother for his horrible treatment of William, but it gets to the point where I almost understand why Edward was so irritated with William's mannerisms, accent and way of carrying himself. For if William comes across as a smug little prat to me, it stands to reason that his gruff, no-frills brother probably got the same vibe. And I'm sure that's a conclusion Charlotte Bronte never intended readers to make.
There are a couple of aspects of the book I didn't mind. My favourite character is Yorke Hunsden, the sarcastic Yorkshire neighbour who is always paying William out, but proves himself to be a genuine friend. Hunsden criticises William to his face, yet looks out for his best interests in many very effective ways behind his back. That's refreshing, when so many so-called friends get it the other way around.
The romance element is sort of sweet. William falls for a young lady named Frances Henri who joins his English class, hoping to get a bit more experience with the language, although she's actually a fellow teacher, who instructs the girls in lace mending. I do like the way Frances comes to appreciate the subtle compliment behind William's demanding standards for her bookwork to the extent that he becomes the subject of some of her best pieces.
But plotwise - meh. William finds Mademoiselle Reuter attractive, then overhears her flirting with Monsieur Pelet, with whom she appears to have some understanding. It's hardly even two-timing, since Mademoiselle Reuter had never committed herself to William in any way. But he turns on his chilliest, most disdainful behaviour until she gets the message, then he falls for somebody else who agrees with him that he's absolutely perfect in every way. If William wasn't obnoxious he'd be boring, for who cares to read about a guy in his early twenties whose innate frugality, sound judgment and work ethic never once let him down? I'd be interested to know if any modern readers do, in fact, love this guy. Are there truly any William Crimsworth fans out there? Speak up, because I'd be interested to know.
Overall, these Crimsworth boys are not all that dissimilar really. One is meant to be always on his high horse but the other always looks down his nose too. The two stars are for Charlotte Bronte's beautiful writing style. It's refreshing in a way, to see that even undoubted geniuses have the occasional misses.
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