I have here commented on what I believe to be a couple of the failings in this particular area of literary scholarship, namely, of believability and honesty.
If one believes the statement that Dickens and Ellen Ternan had “a son (who died in infancy)”, then the testimony of Thomas Wright of Olney is redundant, as a sexual relationship was, in the 19th century, a necessary prerequisite for childbirth. Accordingly, it is not necessary to mention Thomas Wright again in this context.
But I will mention another statement:-
“…I should have been able to say solemnly that her dear mother never was the mistress of Charles Dickens”.
Here, then, we have two statements describing mutually exclusive circumstances, and if one is true, the other is necessarily false. But since in neither case is there any supporting evidence or proof, which one should be believed, if either should be?
The first statement was published by one Gladys Storey in 1939; the second was contained in a personal letter written by one Jane Wheeler. Gladys Storey was a daughter of a wealthy family, and could count famous artists, authors, and Lords and Ladies of the realm amongst her friends. Jane Wheeler was a lowly maid-servant. Neither of these qualifications is proof of either truthfulness or mendacity, and yet the statement by Storey is believed, whereas that by Wheeler is discounted.
In terms of benefits to be gained by either writer, Jane Wheeler had nothing to gain what-so-ever. Her statement was in a personal letter to her own daughter, and in no way could it have been used for personal gain. On the other hand, Storey included her statement in what would ordinarily have been a work of very limited public appeal. How many members of the general public in 1939 would rush to buy a rather uninteresting book about Katey Dickens? But include a juicy piece of gossip about the morals of one of England’s most famous men, and sales would undoubtedly increase many fold.
Jane Wheeler had been Ellen Ternan’s long-term maid, living and working in the very houses occupied by Ellen at the time she was frequently visited by Dickens. As a first-hand witness, she would have known what was going on. However secretive and discrete Dickens and Ellen may have been, I find it very difficult to imagine that a sexual liaison, pregnancy and childbirth would have gone unnoticed by a live-in personal maid.
Gladys Storey, on the other hand, was not even born at the time. She was merely reporting third-hand some 60 years after the time, what she claimed to have been told some 16 years before she wrote her book. As Gladys Storey made a conscious decision not to publish her book until after the death of the last surviving child of Charles and Catherine Dickens, the members of the chain of informants, being by this time dead, were unable to substantiate or refute the claim. Even during their life, it seems they were unable to provide any specific details.
Thus far, I think the scales of believability weigh in favour of Jane Wheeler, but the reality does not indicate that to be the case. So why should that be? Is it because people generally like, or even need, a little frisson and are simply more willing to believe a story that involves an illicit sexual encounter, especially of a very well-known personality? Or is it perhaps the status of the writer within the literati, that gains them the advantage in the credibility stakes? There is no doubt that Gladys Storey had any number of supporters from among the literary scholars of her day. And once that support had been loudly proclaimed by such eminent people as Dame Una Pope-Hennessy and W. Somerset Maugham, the game is all but finished. Thereafter, anyone daring to voice a contrary opinion risked incurring the wrath of one of the doyens of Literary Scholarship, Ada Nesbit—-as Edward Wagenknecht certainly found out. I quote, from Ada Nesbitt:-
“….the violence of certain recent attacks upon the reliability and integrity of those critics and scholars who have accepted the story of Dickens’s liaison with Ellen Ternan as fact. …… I respect the critics and writers under fire who include such people as Dame Una Pope-Hennessy, Hesketh Pearson, Edmund Wilson, Lionel Stevenson, Clifton Fadiman and W. Somerset Maugham among others, and I resent the nature and tone of the attacks.”
And all Wagenknecht did was to question current thinking! And in support of the High Priestess, Edmund Wilson refers to the conclusions that “….the unprejudiced reader of Miss Nisbet’s book will certainly come to…”. I can not help but feel that Miss Nesbit herself was certainly not an “unprejudiced reader” of Edward Wagenknechts paper!
The reality is, of course, that truth does not, and should not, depend on the strength of the support for the claimant; but who would dare go against such strength. Very few, it seems.
And so time rolls on. More recent scholars have given in completely, and unquestioningly treat it all as an accepted truth. Interpretations, even of David Copperfield which was written at least 9 or 10 years before the time in question, are now made taking into account that “Dickens took the young Ellen Ternan as his mistress”. And an analysis of Dickens’s view of, and attitude toward, children has been made on the ‘fact’ that “Catherine gave Dickens 10 children, and Ellen gave him one”. Neither of these scholars admit of any possibility of doubt about their underlying assumptions. And I am sure they are not alone in this, which leads me to think that honesty in this particular field of literary scholarship is becoming a little thin on the ground.
Whilst I, like every other commentator on this affair, have no new information, over the next few months I shall put forward my reasons for believing that there is, and probably always will be, sufficient doubt to expect scholars to be honest enough to refer to that doubt in their criticisms and analyses of Dickens’s life and works.
Slingsby's Miscellany 