Jean Ingelow 1820-1897
(Also wrote under the pseudonym Orris) English poet, novelist, and short story writer.
The following entry presents criticism on Ingelow from 1897 through 1998. For additional information on Ingelow's life and career, see NCLC, Volume 39.
Highly esteemed as a poet in both England and the United States during the late nineteenth century, Jean Ingelow celebrated nature, romantic love, and childhood in her poetry and was most often compared to contemporary Christina Rossetti. Though Ingelow's verse is not widely known to modern readers, its popular appeal during the Victorian era was second only to that of poet laureate Lord Tennyson. Ingelow's poetry was held in such high regard by some nineteenth-century American scholars that in 1892 they appealed to Queen Victoria to name Ingelow as Tennyson's successor to that post. Most modern critics, however, consider her to be a minor poet while acknowledging her achievement as a skilled and popular writer. Today she is most often remembered as the author of the children's fantasy novel Mopsa the Fairy (1869).
Ingelow was born in 1820 in the coastal town of Boston in Lincolnshire to Jean Kilgour and William Ingelow, a banker. The eldest of nine children (some sources say eleven), Ingelow was schooled by her mother with the occasional help of tutors. At home Ingelow learned several languages in addition to studying literature, history, and geography. A shy child with a fanciful imagination, Ingelow experienced an early inner conflict triggered by her strong desire to express herself creatively and the demands of conformity upon which her parents insisted. This internal quarrel would inform some of her later works. Ingelow began writing while still a child, composing songs and verses reflecting her appreciation of nature. When she was fourteen, she relocated with her family to Ipswich and eventually moved with them to London in 1850. That year her first poetry collection, A Rhyming Chronicle of Incidents and Feelings, was published anonymously. Although the volume was dismissed by many readers as overly sentimental, it drew praise from Tennyson, who, in a letter to a mutual friend, indicated that the work showed promise.
Extremely reserved, Ingelow was encouraged to continue writing by her family, who provided both financial and moral support for her career. Over the next decade she published Allerton and Dreux; or, the War of Opinion (1851), a novel about religious controversy and tolerance, as well as several children's stories under the name of Orris in The Youth's Magazine. In 1863 she published Poems, hailed as the work of a talented new poet and eliciting recognition from such literary giants as Tennyson, Oliver Wendell Holmes, and John Ruskin. The collection's popularity prompted more than twenty-five editions over the next several years, and Ingelow soon became one of the most famous poets in England and the United States. Ingelow, however, shunned publicity, preferring instead to remain quietly at home as her Victorian upbringing dictated. Moving with her mother and two of her brothers to Kensington, she rented a flat near the family's home to use as a studio and began to earn a living as a writer. She published the children's novel Mopsa the Fairy in 1869, adult novels including Off the Skelligs (1872) and Sarah de Berenger (1879), and a second and third series of poetry collections. By this time she had made the acquaintance of virtually every American and English writer of note, including English art critic and writer John Ruskin, who, scholars speculate, was attracted to Ingelow's poetic and narrative renditions of innocence. Ruskin, who began quoting Ingelow in his works as early as 1866, met frequently with Ingelow and remained her close friend throughout the rest of her life. After the death of Ingelow's most beloved brother in 1886 she stopped writing, and although she continued to publish some of her remaining manuscripts, her works gradually declined in popularity. Ingelow died in Kensington in 1897.
Ingelow's works reflect her overall acceptance of the prevailing moral and social order. She was branded a conformist by those who rejected the confinement of Victorian society. Nevertheless, Ingelow's verse has been praised for its clear and simple language and musical rhythms. Her poems most often celebrate the English landscape, particularly the pasturelands, the changing seasons, the wind, the birds, and the seashore. “The High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire,” which critics almost unanimously describe as her finest poem, evokes the seascape of her childhood in Lincolnshire. Published in the 1863 volume Poems, “High Tide” describes in ballad form the events surrounding an enormous tidal wave that swept over the peaceful pasturelands of her native village in 1571. The poem rejoices in the beauty of nature while expressing awe at its destructive potential. This narration of a story in verse typifies many of Ingelow's works. Her allegorical poem Gladys and Her Island (1867), for example, turns on the desire of the title character, a young governess, to discover her inner self. As Gladys allows her poetic imagination to roam free, she is able to embark on a fantastic journey to such exotic locales as the Garden of Eden and the ruins of ancient Egypt. Among Ingelow's most ambitious efforts (although dismissed by critics) is the epic A Story of Doom (1867), which centers on the fictional conflict between the biblical Noah and his wife, Niloiya, who strongly opposes his involvement in his religious mission.
In general, Ingelow's novels center on family life and the emotional and imaginative lives of children. Her celebrated fantasy Mopsa the Fairy involves Jack, an ordinary boy, and the title character whom Jack first encounters in a nest of fairies. Jack, a mortal, kisses Mopsa, and as a result she does not grow into maturity but remains a child along with Jack until eventually she becomes the powerful ruler of a fairy land. Sarah de Berenger depicts a young mother's struggle to provide her children with a stable and loving home despite the fact that their father is a criminal. Off the Skelligs traces the moral development of two intellectually precocious children who are cared for by tutors and a nurse while their mother pursues a literary career.
Ingelow's fame as a writer was long in coming: she was forty-three years old before she earned the respect of such esteemed critics as F. T. Palgrave. Initially her poetry was praised as charming and simple, expressing love and delight in natural landscapes and revealing beauty in an obscure and unintelligible world. Her works began to fall out of favor around the turn of the century, however. Critics have theorized that the emerging emphasis on the self toward the close of the nineteenth century caused many readers to rebel against what was viewed as submission on the part of Ingelow to the established religious and social order. Her reputation was damaged, too, as a result of Eric S. Robertson's 1883 critical biography of her included in his English Poetesses. Emphasizing Ingelow's intense interest in “homely subjects,” Robertson claimed she was inferior to her male counterparts, who in their writings ventured far beyond simple family matters. Critical discussion of Ingelow ceased until 1940 when Gladys Singers-Bigger published an essay regarding Ingelow's poetic imagery. By the mid-1950s, American scholar Edith Hamilton had considered Ingelow's role as a forerunner to the modern school of poetry, focusing in particular on how Ingelow's poetic method and technique foreshadowed that of Dylan Thomas.
A thirty-year critical silence ensued until 1987 when Brian Attebery briefly looked at the initiation rites of Ingelow's Mopsa the Fairy and compared them to similar circumstances in the works of major modern fantasy writers such as Ursula Le Guin, Patricia McKillip, and Suzette Haden Elgin. In 1992 scholars Nina Auerbach and U. C. Knoepflmacher pointed out the unconventionality of Mopsa the Fairy's ending: the male character returns to ordinary domestic life while the female character becomes the powerful leader of an entire nation. However, unlike Jack, whose memories of his escapades fade quickly, Mopsa is haunted and saddened by memories of her lost childhood. As Auerbach and Knoepflmacher have contended, Ingelow was demonstrating the danger of the female imagination, since it has the power to cause women to most acutely feel the intense separation and loss of freedom upon becoming adults. Jennifer A. Wagner further explored Ingelow's emphasis on Victorian social and economic conditions in her 1993 study of Gladys and Her Island. Finding that Gladys's imagination offers her a psychological release from her figurative imprisonment, Wagner concluded that Gladys's inner vision also provides her with a source of power against the confines of reality. In 1998 Knoepflmacher returned to the question of cultural confinement in Ingelow's writings, claiming that Ingelow revealed not only her resentment over her inferior and restricted position but also her acceptance and even encouragement of the status quo.
A Rhyming Chronicle of Incidents and Feelings [anonymous] (poetry) 1850
Allerton and Dreux; or, the War of Opinion (novel) 1851
Tales of Orris (short stories) 1860
Poems (poetry) 1863
Stories Told to a Child (sketches and prose poetry) 1865
A Story of Doom, and Other Poems (poetry) 1867; revised as Poems: Second Series 1872
Mopsa the Fairy (novel) 1869
Off the Skelligs (novel) 1872
Fated to Be Free (novel) 1875
Sarah de Berenger (novel) 1879
Don John: A Story (novel) 1881
Poems, Third Series (poetry) 1885
Poems of the Old Days and the New (poetry) 1885
John Jerome: His Thoughts and Ways (novel) 1886
A Motto Changed (novel) 1894
(The entire section is 93 words.)
SOURCE: “Jean Ingelow,” in The Citizen, Vol. 3, No. 10, December, 1897, pp. 224-25.
[In the following essay, written just after Ingelow's death, Street presents a brief overview of Ingelow's life and works, finding her writings “charming” but restricted in scope because of her limited life experiences.]
When Tennyson died, when Morris and Stevenson, Lowell and Holmes laid their pens down for the last time, there was such a sense of activity arrested, of immediate loss, that we look even yet for this to be made good to us. Far different, however, is the feeling with regard to the English poetess recently deceased. Her death seems rather the loss of an earlier generation who read her novels and memorized her verse which the younger of us, to whom much richer treasures of literature have fallen, have never cared to con or peruse. It is partly because of the years that have elapsed since Miss Ingelow's period of publication, partly because of her own extreme reticence in reference to the facts of her life, that the public came almost to forget that this winning poetess, though mute in song, was living with us still. Yet by the large circle of friends to whom she had endeared herself as much by her warm heart and quick sympathy as by her literary gifts, the death of Jean Ingelow was most keenly felt. Until recent years when failing health made seclusion necessary, her home was the resort of nearly...
(The entire section is 1659 words.)
SOURCE: “Jean Ingelow,” in The Fortnightly Review, Vol. 71, No. 287, March 1, 1899, pp. 486-99.
[In the following essay, Birchenough offers an enthusiastic review of Ingelow's major works, focusing on Ingelow's love of nature and natural landscapes, the simplicity and sensitivity of her writings, and the light-heartedness of her family stories.]
In the summer of 1897, two remarkable women writers slipped away, quietly, and with as little observation as either would have desired, barely noticed indeed during the absorbing excitements of the Jubilee. The public had delighted to honour each in her day, but it had already passed into the stage of half-forgetting, for it has much to do in following after all the new gods of the last few years.
Yet Mrs. Oliphant and Jean Ingelow have never really faded out before all the newer reputations, as is the fate of those who only satisfy a momentary need, or a passing taste of their generation. They both wrote voluminously, and much of their work has already dropped away, because only a small proportion of it reached their high-water mark of achievement. But how good that is, and what a distinction it has! How delightful it is to come back to it when one takes up the old volumes again and snatches a respite from the flood of current fiction and poetry!
They were practically the last of the Victorian old guard, and with them...
(The entire section is 5905 words.)
SOURCE: “Words, Words, Words,” in The Ever-Present Past, W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1964, pp. 151-58.
[In the following essay, originally published in the November 19, 1955, edition of the Saturday Review, Hamilton reflects upon Ingelow's influence on modern poets, particularly Dylan Thomas (1914-1953).]
Nearly one hundred years ago a novelist and a poet, quite forgotten now but highly esteemed in her own day, whose name was Jean Ingelow, wrote:
Amorphous masses cooing to a monk; Some fine old crusty problems very drunk; A pert parabola flirting with a don, And two Greek grammars with their war paint on. A lame black beetle singing to a fish; A squinting planet in a gravy-dish.
There were other lines equally striking which, unfortunately, I have forgotten (the book they appeared in is long since out of print), but the importance of even the few I can quote must be instantly apparent to all those interested in the latest fashion in poetry. The widespread belief that we are observing a new development in poets must be discarded. The essential similarity of this nineteenth-century verse to the most modern school is so striking as to be conclusive.
Many writers today could serve as illustration, but none better than Dylan Thomas, who, the critics assure us, is the greatest of them all. For instance,
A claw I question from...
(The entire section is 1881 words.)
SOURCE: “Women's Coming of Age in Fantasy,” in Extrapolation: A Journal of Science Fiction and Fantasy, Vol. 28, No. 1, Spring, 1987, pp. 10-22.
[In the following essay, Attebery discusses Ingelow's fantasy novel Mopsa the Fairy and its emphasis on the coming-of-age of its title character as a forerunner to the rite of passage novels by modern fantasy writers such as Ursula Le Guin and Patricia Wrightson.]
An orphaned young man discovers a destiny, true love, and his identity. A wizard tests his powers and learns his own limits. An amiable young hobbit grows into a heroic and somber figure. A youth wakes up in a room transformed into woodland and undergoes a series of tests and adventures that lead him to self-knowledge. One of the most prevalent patterning motifs in fantasy literature is coming of age. From the earliest traditional fairy tales to the most recent fantasy novels, protagonists have moved from the end of childhood to adulthood as the story unfolds. The magical adventures are tied together and the story given shape by the hero's gradual assumption of his proper powers and his place in society.
Each of the protagonists referred to above—Taran Wanderer, Ged, Frodo, and Anodos—is male. This is not a surprising revelation; the majority of the central figures in fiction is male, reflecting cultural biases and the prevalence of men in the ranks of writers. But the...
(The entire section is 5965 words.)
SOURCE: “Jean Ingelow: Mopsa the Fairy,” in Forbidden Journeys: Fairy Tales and Fantasies by Victorian Women Writers, edited by Nina Auerbach and U. C. Knoepflmacher, University of Chicago Press, 1992, pp. 207-13.
[In the following essay, Auerbach and Knoepflmacher examine Mopsa the Fairy against the backdrop of Victorian notions of the domestic role of women, focusing in particular on the novel's ending.]
Jean Ingelow (1820-1897) had, like Christina Rossetti, already achieved a high reputation as a poet before she began to publish children's fiction. Indeed, her 1863 volume, Poems, was so favorably reviewed that Rossetti, “aware of a new eminent name having arisen among us,” immediately, and deferentially, pronounced Ingelow to be “a formidable rival to most men, and to any woman” (The Rossetti Macmillan Letters, 19). Yet the two writers, together with Dora Greenwell, the third major aspirant to the poetic throne vacated by the death of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, became rather friendly competitors. That friendship extended to a nonpoetic contest which may have some bearing on the feverish sewing activities so prominent in the narrative frame of Rossetti's Speaking Likenesses, Greenwell once challenged Rossetti and Ingelow to produce a piece of needlework as good as her own. Rossetti declined, but Ingelow gladly complied. She not only sent Greenwell a...
(The entire section is 3096 words.)
SOURCE: “In Her ‘Proper Place’: Ingelow's Fable of the Female Poet and Her Community in Gladys and Her Island,” in Victorian Poetry, Vol. 31, No. 3, Fall, 1993, pp. 227-39.
[In the following essay, Wagner explores the theme of the female imagination in the allegorical Gladys and Her Island.]
Eric S. Robertson's notoriously condescending “critical biography” of Jean Ingelow in his 1883 English Poetesses locates the cause of her immense popularity in her “domesticity”: “these [lyrics] deal with homely subjects described in good Saxon language. … Homeliness of subject and place are natural to Jean Ingelow.”1 These remarks, designed to put Ingelow “in her place” as a female poet, are nevertheless interesting, for they do point to the heart—hidden perhaps to Robertson—of “the English poetess”'s psychic landscape. Like so many female writers of her century, Ingelow revealed that landscape in a poem that has been recognized as one of her most imaginative, Gladys and Her Island: On the Advantages of a Poetical Temperament (published 1867).2 This overlooked work is a parable of a young governess's “visionary nostalgia” for a home that has disappeared, but that is rediscovered—or perhaps discovered for the first time. The poem explores not only the subjective space of the female imagination, but also its relation to social...
(The entire section is 5756 words.)
SOURCE: “Male Patronage and Female Authorship: The Case of John Ruskin and Jean Ingelow,” in Princeton University Library Chronicle, Vol. 57, No. 1, Autumn, 1995, pp. 13-46.
[In the following essay, Knoepflmacher uses the many letters John Ruskin wrote to Ingelow between 1867 and 1882 to explore the personal and professional relationship the two shared.]
Highly popular as a poet in late nineteenth-century England and America, Jean Ingelow (1820-1897) has not regained her former reputation. Although a few of her verses are finding their way back into recent anthologies, she has hardly fared as well as Christina Rossetti, the writer to whom she was most often compared by Victorian reviewers. Rossetti herself rather nervously regarded “Jean Ingelow, the wonderful poet” as a “formidable rival to most men, and to any woman.”1 Paradoxically, however, Ingelow's best known work today is a work of prose, her fantasy novel for children, Mopsa the Fairy (1869). Itself destined to remain overshadowed by the work of Lewis Carroll and George MacDonald, that novel, which ends with the willed segregation of a powerful fairy queen fated to be forgotten by her best human friend, almost seems to inscribe a desire for oblivion as well as Ingelow's distrust of her own inventiveness. Despite her literary prominence and her association with major Victorian artists and intellectuals—notably John...
(The entire section is 11681 words.)
SOURCE: “‘Matters That a Woman Rules’: Marginalized Maternity in Jean Ingelow's A Story of Doom,” in Victorian Poetry, Vol. 33, No. 1, 1995, pp. 75-88.
[In the following essay, Johnson studies Ingelow's portrayal of feminine spirituality and the role of the woman within the patriarchal world of Christianity in her poem A Story of Doom.]
And Noah went in, and his sons, and his wife, and his sons' wives with him, into the ark, because of the waters of the flood.
He looks back to the past grieves not over what is distant. I mourn the wrack, the rock under the blue sea, our old wound, the dismantling storm and cannot thank you.
Fay Zwicky, “Mrs. Noah Speaks” in “Ark Voices”1
Narrative poetry on biblical themes frequently has attempted, in Milton's terms, to “justify the ways of God to men” while justifying little more for woman than her marginalization within patriarchal Christianity, with motherhood offering her only opportunity for power or redemption. Victorian women poets' responses to this tradition, such as Elizabeth Barrett Browning's 1844 poem A Drama of Exile, often underscore the religious importance of maternity while doing little to interrogate the problematic intersection of motherhood and spirituality. Barrett Browning may complicate...
(The entire section is 5684 words.)
SOURCE: “Sundering Women from Boys: Ingelow's Mopsa the Fairy,” in Ventures into Childland: Victorians, Fairy Tales, and Femininity, University of Chicago Press, 1998, pp. 270-311.
[In the following essay, Knoepflmacher presents an in-depth examination of the ways in which Ingelow, in the short tale “The Life of John Smith” and the fantasy novel Mopsa the Fairy, both acquiesced to and resisted the patriarchal authority advanced by such Victorian counterparts as Lewis Carroll, John Ruskin, and George MacDonald.]
Yet—to gaze on her again (As my tale has taught thee), Potent Fairy, I am fain, Therefore have I sought thee— Through the forest, through the lea, Through the tangled wildwood, For I know she dwells with thee, And her name is—childhood!
—Jean Ingelow, “Mimie's Grass Net,” 1850
It is almost strange in these days to find how quietly a popular writer could live with the world's bustle all around her, almost like one moored among the flowering rushes of a peaceful backwater, while the noisy race went by upon the river. But, indeed, if it had not been so, I think she could not have written at all; unless she had been cherished, shielded, sheltered, as she was, she could hardly have given to us the message entrusted to her in the form that it comes to us.
(The entire section is 18242 words.)
Woodworth, Eliza. “Jean Ingelow and Her Writings.” The Ladies' Repository 3, No. 4 (April 1869): 279-87.
Offers a general overview of Ingelow's early life and her body of works.
Griffith, Reverend T. M. “Jean Ingelow's Poems.” The Ladies' Repository 25, No. 12 (December 1865): 740-43.
Praises Ingelow's Poems primarily for the poet's insight into natural phenomenon.
“Jean Ingelow.” Appletons' Journal VIII, No. 195 (December 21, 1872): 681-83.
Reflects on the musical quality of Ingelow's verse, Ingelow's ear for poetic language, and her knowledge of the various subjects addressed in her poetry.
“Recent Fiction.” The Nation 98, No. 1497 (March 8, 1894): 179.
Especially negative review of Ingelow's 1894 novel A Motto Changed, which the critic calls “unmitigated trash.”
Review of Jean Ingelow's Poems. Catholic World 24, No. 141 (December 1876): 419-23.
Lukewarm review that acknowledges Ingelow's deep poetic feeling while criticizing her tendency toward artificiality.
Additional coverage of Ingelow's life and career is contained in the following sources published by the Gale Group: Dictionary of...
(The entire section is 159 words.)