“Mrs Gaskell was indeed a born story-teller, charged through and through
with the story-teller’s peculiar element, a something which may be
called suppressed gipsiness, a restless instinct which impelled her to
be constantly making trial in imagination of various modes of life. Her
imagination was perpetually busy with the vicissitudes which days and
years brought round to others; she entered into their lives, laughed
with them, wept with them, speculated on the cardinal incidents and
circumstances, the good qualities and the ‘vicious moles of nature,’
which had made them what they were, schemed how they might have been
different, and lived through the windings and turnings of their
destinies, the excitement of looking forward to the unknown.…
“‘Sir,’ she seems to say to the nature-worshipper, ‘let us take a peep
into some English household. Let us watch its inmates in comfort and in
distress, I will tell you their history. You shall see how a Lancashire
mechanic entertains his friends, how a country doctor gets on with his
neighbours, how a coquettish farmer’s daughter behaves to her lovers. I
have no strange experiences to reveal to you, only the life that lies at
your doors; but I will show you its tragedies and its comedies. I will
describe the characters of your countrymen to you, and I will tell you
things about them that will interest you, some things that will make you
weep and many that will make you smile.’” (_Fortnightly Review_, 1878.)