Built-in Culture

If you were to walk past the building I live in you probably wouldn't notice it. Although it's old - circa 1840 - and quite handsome, it doesn't differ from the other buildings in the block and so doesn't stand out from its fellows. Presently we have contractors in - as is the way with old buildings - fixing the ceiling, which involves scaffolding, noise, dust and general disruption, so I'm spending a lot of time elsewhere.

One place where I found sanctuary recently is in a building, from the same period, about a mile away. Previously I've walked past it many times without noticing it. When originally built as a villa for well-to-do middle-class families, it was set on a spacious plot in a green-field development on the edge of town. Over time, however, its salubrious surroundings became compromised by the encroachment of high-density housing for the working class, its garden was sold in the seventies for the building of a block of flats, and any vestige of its former prestige was buried in the camouflage of its higgledy-piggledy surroundings. Now, in the interest of preserving a slice of heritage, the house has been restored to its former glory and elevated to a degree of national celebrity: the refurbished doors were opened to the public last week to celebrate its new status as a museum. For this is where Elizabeth Gaskell lived with her family from1850 until her death in 1865, during which time she wrote most of her best-known novels.

It's not unusual to come across houses which have been the homes of famous people, although sometimes there are surprises like, for example, the modest terraced house in Audenshaw which bears a blue plaque marking it as the early home of Frank Hampson, creator of the comic character Dan Dare. While he may be less of a household name than, say Banksy, his imaginative creations had a significant cultural influence on millions of us Englishmen brought up in the 1950s. Chancing upon his birthplace, I was suffused with the comfortable feeling of "belonging". Dan dare and I are both products of a linear, indigenous culture: I could sense his origins, empathise with his ethos. In the case of Elizabeth Gaskell's house, the same is true, albeit on many more levels than at first might be supposed.

Elizabeth Gaskell, acclaimed novelist, is further distinguished by the fact that, as a woman in a male-dominated profession, the odds were against her becoming successful. Reading her books is a way to understand the workings of a society which was changing fast around her: but visiting her house/museum adds other dimensions to that understanding. For one, it affords an insight into how she was able to cope with motherhood, wifely duties, charitable works and writing: she had the help of five servants. For another, it becomes apparent that the house was a cultural hub of considerable significance. The list of genuinely "household" names associated with it forms a remarkable catalogue of influential figures of the time and a reminder of the extent to which artistic creativity and political radicalism abounded in and around the first of the industrial cities. Charlotte Bronte stayed there several times; visitors included Charles Dickens, John Ruskin, Harriet Beecher Stowe and Holman Hunt. Charles Hallé taught one of her daughters piano. Family connections included the Wedgwoods, the Darwins and the Nightingales. I don't think I shall ever walk past a house again without speculating on to what extent I am culturally indebted to it.

Maybe I could order one of those blue plaques for our building. It might be simply - but intriguingly - inscribed "Wonderman was here". That would make it stand out. The contractors could fix it while they're here with their ladders.

(The Gaskells' House)