To Austen-l
August 29, 1998
Re: Burney, Cecilia, IV:7:1-5: Not Enough Naked Truth
As I glanced at this coming week's chapters and saw that again we have Cecilia fleeing one house and finding refuge in another, it struck me this ought to be a poignant book which enrages me. Here is a wealthy young woman who cannot find a place to be secure and at peace in. We could say her upbringing, the people whom she looks to for respect and companionship, her world (shopkeepers, business men, lawyers, prospective marital partners) would shun her were she to live alone.
And there's part of the problem. Not for a moment does Burney ever think to buck the values of her world. We are given no sense she could go out on her own -- as did a number of the radical or feminist Jacobin women.
One might say, well Burney went beyond this in The Wanderer. Although the heroine there is fleeing an abusive husband, still she tries to make it on her own. She takes jobs. Curious how Burney cannot conceive of an individual apart from a social context. Many writers of the time did; not everyone lived in a continual circle of friends. Far from it.
However, the reason the book does not have the effect on us its content ought to have goes deeper. It's in Burney's pride. Since she identifies with Cecilia, she cannot for a second show Cecilia to be truly vulnerable, to be faulty, to be weak, to have self-doubt in any radical sense. A woman who runs from house to house would have that. What else but self- abnegation and self-distrust would have made Burney succumb to her father's demand she sell herself to become a 24 hour a day manikin courtier. Cecilia reminds me of Sir Charles Grandison. The guard is never down. Not for a moment. Austen's goes down -- with Marianne, with Elinor, with Fanny, with Anne Elliot, to the side of the story devastatingly with Jane Fairfax.
Nowhere is the naked truth of a woman's life that is at the heart of this book shown to us without its being gussied up and obscured by the screen of language and false pride of Burney herself.
Again what might say, Well what do you expect? Even disguised as a novelist, she could not tell what life was really for her for it would bring derision, anger, rebukes, and no sales. This too holds for Austen.
When we read these insufferably snobbish scenes of Cecilia's response to Mortimer, let us keep in mind that Burney herself married a penniless French aristocrat and proceeded to support him on the earnings of her pen in a cottage she paid to have built on rented land.
Ellen Moody
Date: Sun, 30 Aug 1998 From: "Jill L. Spriggs" With such a very long book such as this one, I get such a feeling of
achievement when we begin another volume. Doesn't take much to give me a
thrill!
Before Cecilia's chaise was well away, she found that it was being hotly
pursued by poor Fidel, who must have been feeling forlorn, both his master and
mistress having left him behind. After the wayward dog was returned home,
Cecilia left the environs of Delvile Castle for what was prove to be a long
time.
The vision of Mrs. Charlton was as welcome as a long drink of cool water on a
hot day; " The sight of that lady gave her a sensation of pleasure to which
she had long been a stranger, pleasure pure, unmixed, unaffected and
unrestrained: it revived all her early affection, and with it, something
resembling at least her early tranquility: again she was in the house where
it had once been undisturbed, again she enjoyed the society which was once all
she had wished, and again saw the same scene, the same faces, and the same
prospects she had beheld while her heart was all devoted to her friends."
(Oxford Cecilia, Ed. M. A. Doody and P. Sabor, p. 529)
Ah, but Cecilia, you can never go home again ...
While Mrs. Charlton had all the intelligence which Cecilia could desire in a
congenial companion, her judgment was not always infallible. She was an old
softie, and her sympathies were easily worked upon by any hard luck story
going. Due to this weakness, the unfortunate lady had her two granddaughters
take up residence with her, to save their inheritances from being drained by
misplaced generosity.
Once again we come upon a situation that is commonly found in contemporary
society. I know one beleaguered lady in her eighties who would be benefited
by a medical treatment which would take one hour once a week. It could even
be done in the comfort of her home, which would raise the cost from $45 to
$60. Her children prefer to cart her off to her physician's office, a 45
minute drive each way, to have the physical therapist give her twenty minutes
of the therapy twice a week. By doing this the treatment is covered by her
insurance, and the money saved will remain intact for their inheritance. I
hope when I am that age, I am mean enough to make my kids hesitate before they
think of pulling that with me.
These mean spirited granddaughters did not allow Mrs. Charlton to cultivate
friendships with anyone who might have mercenary motives. Since that
encompassed just about everyone, one can imagine the pleasure with which Mrs.
Charlton greeted the arrival of Cecilia. The orphaned child had regarded her
as a mother, and the two were ecstatic. " The revival of this early
connection delighted them both, it was balm to the wounded mind of Cecilia, it
was renovation to the existence of Mrs. Charlton." (p. 531)
Cecilia soon notified Mr. Monckton and Lady Margaret of her arrival, asking
when it would be convenient for her to call. Lady M of course gave a barely
civil answer, but Mr. Monckton came right over. Mr. Monckton was surprised
and elated at Cecilia's arrival, and almost complacent about his eventual
prospects when he saw, thanks to his judicious questioning, that Cecilia had
not left Delvile Castle with warm fuzzy feelings about the family and, by
extension, their son. Mr. M felt increasing confidence of his returning power
over Cecilia, when she resided in a place where he so evidently was the
superior of all male company.
The next day Cecilia called upon Lady Margaret, whose heart Cecilia's absence
had not made fonder. In fact, I think her suspicions must have been excited
by her husband's prolonged absences during his trips to London, even if they
had not been before Cecilia's departure. Lady Margaret's only companion,
other than Miss Bennet's, was Mr. Morrice. He alone had sufficiently thick
skin to endure her, helped by his hope of " ... a handsome legacy for his
trouble." Lady Margaret's opening remark could hardly endear herself to
Cecilia: " ' So you are not married yet, I find; if Mr. Monckton had been a
real friend, he would have taken care to have seen for some establishment for
you.' "
Of course, Mr. Monckton could hardly be considered a real friend.
Mr. Morrice recalled the night of Mr. Harrel's suicide, and apologized for his
inattentiveness after the fact. He was presumptuous enough to ask for an
introduction to Mr. Delvile, which Cecilia was aware the "Don Puffabout" (p.
95) would scarcely thank her for.
Once again Mr. Morrice proved himself an adept at verbal gymnastics. Always
trying to say what would please, and quickly backpedalling when he found
himself less than successful. He suggested that she would want to live in a
house of her own when she reached her majority, a prospect of which Lady
Margaret disapproved. Mr. Morrice agreed that of all things would be most
dangerous for a young lady, and changed the subject to that of the forlorn
aspect the isolated castle of Mr. Delvile. Cecilia stated that " ' ... I was
very well satisfied with it.' " Mr. Morrice then enlarged upon the romantic
aspects of " ' an old castle in a large park,' " which recalled Lady Margaret
to a subject painful for Cecilia. " ' Aye, ' cried Lady Margaret, ' they said
you were to become mistress of it, and marry Mr. Delvile's son: and I cannot,
for my own part, see any objection to it.' " (p. 533)
Poor Cecilia. Neither could she.
Mr. Monckton then entered with some male guests and there was "general
conversation" until Cecilia prepared to leave. He took this opportunity to
show Cecilia "some alterations in his grounds", really desiring to ascertain
if Cecilia yet suspected the motives for Lady Margaret's unfriendliness to
her. Mr. Monckton knew that if Cecilia suspected the true state of things,
she would avoid him completely, to avoid giving "encreased uneasiness" ( p.
534) to Lady Margaret. Mr. Monckton was working very hard to encourage
Cecilia to make visits to Lady M without expecting a return, when Mr. Morrice
startled them both by jumping out from behind a bush.
Mr. Morrice found he had chosen to tangle with a rattlesnake. Mr. Monckton
shortly had him so befuddled he scarcely knew where he stood. I had to smile
at one of his sallies:
' No, indeed, I did not!'
' No? -- Nor how much she admired your dexterity in escaping being horse-
whipt three times a day for your incurable impudence? ' " Cecilia adjourned to the chaise to allow Mr. Monckton time to mop up the
bloody remnants of Morrice's self esteem. Needless to say, Mr. Morrice
decided to say nothing of his encounter with Cecilia and Mr. Monckton.
Cecilia determined not to soon visit Lady Margaret again, not because she
suspected her jealousy, but because the lady's dislike for her was but too
obvious.
Talk about ungratifying visits, Cecilia's next one was to her partner in
adversity, Mrs. Harrel. The novelty of life in the country had soon worn off
and Priscilla was sadly lost without " ... a party to form, nor an
entertainment to plan, company to arrange, nor dress to consider ... " . I
found the following portrayal of her personality right on the mark:
Priscilla was glad enough to relieve the tedium of her country residence with
a visit from the friend she had formerly regarded as tiresome, especially
since Cecilia promised that she could come to her home as soon as she reached
her majority.
Mr. Arnott was even more pleased with Cecilia's visit than his sister. It was
with regret that Cecilia found herself unable to return his love. Mortimer
had " ... shut up her heart, for the present, more firmly than ever ... " .
The initial agony of their permanent (as she thought) separation was gradually
losing its sharpness. She had not confided her secret to Mrs. Charlton, and "
... allowed herself no time for dangerous recollection; strolled in her old
walks, and renewed her old acquaintance, and by a vigorous exertion of active
wisdom, doubted not compleating, before long, the subjection of her
unfortunate tenderness." (p. 537 - 538)
Cecilia was proving to be stronger than Mortimer in exercise of self will.
Jill Spriggs
Date: Sun, 30 Aug 1998 As everyone who has read Austen's novels knows, her heroines frequently
take time out to recharge their batteries. Elinor, Marianne, Elizabeth
and Jane Bennet, Fanny Price, Emma Watson, Jane Fairfax, Catherine
Morland, Anne Elliot, and even on occasion Emma Woodhouse all retreat
to their rooms upstairs to quiet their hearts, hide their agitation,
calm their anger, or otherwise compose themselves before sallying forth
to do battle with the world downstairs again. I take Burney's title
for this chapter (Renovation) to refer to a similar regathering of
one's forces or strength to come forth again. Life as battle.
Jill brought home to us a couple of things about this chapter I hadn't
noticed. For example, have a look at not at how Mrs Monckton says
something, but what she says. She is clearer sighted than our
Cissy. She's right. She says, If onckton 'had been a
real friend' to Cissy, 'he would have taken care to have seen for some
establishment for' her. We know he was much happier to make her his
debtor. She is pragmatic; what could be the objection to Cecilia
on the part of the Delviles. Of course she'd like Cissy to marry.
She is, however, against Morrice's suggestion that once Cissy inherits
her fortune, she take up housekeeping on her own. It is often
forgotten that the women of the older generation are if anything
more against liberating the women of the younger generation than
the men.
I thought the whole scene of Monckton, Cecilia, and Morrice well done.
Burney was fascinated by monkeys and the like -- she saw the close
similiarity between us and them: " ' Why you won't pretend Miss Beverley
says you were the truest Ouran Outrang, >or man-monkey, she ever knew?'"
I don't think Burney knew that orangutans are hermits. She did not
have the benefit of Gildikas's book.
I agree the portrait of Priscilla's steadiness in grief is right on
the mark. It's a hard thing to say but many people forget to miss other
people if they get someone to replace them. Many people are not concerned
with the inner nature of anyone else. Think of Sir John Middleton's
amazement at the notion there is an inner nature to be described.
"Oh, you mean his character?" (or words to this effect).
Burney is not a sentimentalist and she brings forth the average of
humanity. Yet she does believe one can to some extent go home again.
Maybe women of her generation needed to believe that. I rather think
the real Burney knew better. I see more and more why so many writers
say the Burney to study and watch is the woman; only through that
perspective do these books begin to resonate their more hidden
message.
Ellen Moody
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1998 After a week in her new residence, a mysterious "country man" brought an
unexpected visitor. Cecilia's maid entered her dressing room with Fidel, "
who jumpt upon Cecilia in a transport of delight." (Oxford Cecilia, ed. M.A.
Doody and P. Sabor, p. 538) The man had brought Fidel, gave him to Ralph (one
of the servants), and left saying only that a letter of explanation would
follow.
Mrs. Charlton was no dummy, and Cecilia saw that her interest was excited by
her own "extreme agitation". Cecilia gave her a brief history of her ill
starred involvement with Mortimer, and Fidel's relevance to their
relationship. Mrs. Charlton was incredulous that any man could resist " ...
the united allurements of so much beauty, sweetness, and fortune." (p 539)
She suspected Cecilia's reserve was at fault.
Cecilia was bewildered by the meaning of this gift. She knew that Mortimer
had asked that Fidel be sent on to him in Bristol, and that his mother would
hardly disregard his wishes. She wondered if Mortimer would take the liberty
of wishing " ... to present her with such a remembrance of himself ...". She
would have to await the letter for the solution to the mystery. Cecilia
wondered if Lady Honoria had persuaded him to sent her the dog, if she had
told him that Cecilia " ... had herself requested to have him." (p. 539)
When that thought occurred to her, she wanted to return Fidel to the castle,
but she determined to await the letter. Two weeks passed, however, and
Cecilia realized that Lady Honoria had tossed in that red herring to buy
herself time. Cecilia fretted and worried: " ... this present made her fear
she was thought meanly of by Mr. Delvile; the silence of his mother gave her
apprehensions for his health, and her own irresolution how to act, kept her in
perpetual inquietude." (p. 540) The dog wished to accompany her everywhere,
and his presence was a distraction.
The suitors Cecilia had rejected while her uncle was alive, returned to renew
their suits. Among them was Mr. Biddulph, who had originally told Mortimer of
her. He gave her the unwelcome news that, " ' I am, indeed, greatly grieved
to find, by all the accounts I receive of him, that he is now in a very bad
state of health.' " (p. 541) This, combined with the lack of mail from Mrs.
Delvile, caused Cecilia to surmise the worst. Fidel was proving to be quite a
comfort, and she consoled herself by " ... fancifully telling him her fears,
[and] she imagined she read in his countenance the faithfullest sympathy."
Cecilia, planning to move to a home that had belonged to her uncle, spent her
time giving orders necessary to ready it for her residence. At this time
Cecilia at long last received the long anticipated letter from Mrs. Delvile.
She apologized for her long silence, and said "various family occurrences" had
prevented her writing earlier. Mrs. Delvile said that they had all returned
to Delvile Castle, and Mortimer was preparing for an extended sojourn abroad.
She also added a postscript: " ' We have lost our poor Fidel.' "
While Cecilia was pondering the best course of action to take in response to
this startling bit of news, Lady Honoria was announced. Fidel was hidden, and
she went to receive her visitor.
Lady Honoria was travelling with her father to visit "a noble family in
Norfolk" and had persuaded him to take an ale break at an inn while she
stopped to visit her friend. Lady Honoria requested information about
Cecilia's activities, but what she really wanted to know, was how Cecilia
would react when she found out that Fidel had been purloined and sent by her.
Lady H also wished to scold a bit because Cecilia had fled when she fetched
Mortimer, claiming that Cecilia wanted him to "comfort and take leave of
[her]". " ' But really it made me look excessively silly, when I have forced
him to come back with me, and told him you were waiting for him, -- to see
nothing of you at all, and not be able to find or trace you. He took it all
for my own invention.' "(p. 543)
Surprise, surprise!
Lady Honoria's frank assessment of the sensibility of the two did make me
smile:
Nancy Mayer Did you not see, on page 543 of the Oxford Edition, this passage from Lady
Honoria, on her visit to Cecilia?
Priceless!
Jill Spriggs
Re: Burney & Austen: Fidel and Lady Catherine de Bourgh!
Reading over Jill's posting today I came to realise another rather
funny parallel: in Cecilia when Lady Honoria gifts Cecilia with
Fidel and thereby brings Cecilia's love affair to the attention
of Mrs Charlton who forwards it and Mortimer himself to Suffolk
who then discovers Cecilia's love for him, Lady Honoria performs
the same function as in P&P Mrs Bennet and Lady Catherine.
Mrs Bennet insists Jane go by horse and rejoices in the rain;
this brings Jane close to Bingley and begins their love affair;
Lady Catherine comes to visit Elizabeth and demand Elizabeth
give up Darcy; when Lady Catherine's indignation leads her to
then turn to Darcy and tell him, Darcy learns Elizabeth cares
for him. I, for one, find Lady Honoria, Mrs Bennet and especially
Lady Catherine distasteful types, and think we are supposed to
draw back from the inner natures of each and reprehend the
values they stand for. Yet they all lead to the heroine's final
happiness.
I don't think Austen was imitating Burney. Rather this shows
their minds worked in the same way, and that's as important
in assessing their connection as any particular concrete
imitation. The joke is Fidel plays the same role as Lady
Catherine de Bourgh.
Ellen Moody
From: "Jill L. Spriggs" Of course Mortimer came back to fetch his dog. And Mrs. Charlton came pretty
close to the mark when she guessed that Cecilia's reserve kept him from
abandoning all scruples to "throw himself at her feet". I cannot blame
Cecilia for resenting those scruples. But in this chapter, hotter heads
prevailed, and the hormones got the better of good sense. And hot was just
what these two were, for each other.
How it must have hurt, to know that even Mrs. Delvile concurred with the
necessity to separate Mortimer and Cecilia. " Her [Cecilia's] own pride,
excited by theirs, made her, indeed, with more anger than sorrow [an aside: I
was thinking that the saying was 'more sorrow than anger' so I looked it up in
Hamlet, and sure enough, it was; I like how Burney turned that phrase about
in this instance], see this general consent to abandon her... " ( Oxford
Cecilia, ed. M. A. Doody and P. Sabor, p. 546) When she thought of the ill
health that had dogged Mortimer's departure, and the possibility of his never
recovering, Cecilia sought refuge in garden gazebo, with the company of Fidel.
To the dog alone could Cecilia confide her fears, and imagine the
consternation of this very self controlled girl when, in the midst of her
lamentations, who should pop up but his truly.
When I read the following passage, I had the irresistible mental image of one
of those cartoons where the startled toon had his eyes start from and pop out
of his head, to return with a "boing" !
The corporeal reality of Delvile was proved to be all too real when he " ...
instantly flew to her, penetrated with gratitude, and filled with wonder and
delight, which, however internally combated by sensations less pleasant, were
too potent for controul, and he poured forth at her feet the most passionate
acknowledgments." (p. 547)
Cecilia's feelings were also "internally combated by sensations less
pleasant"; she hastened to assure Mortimer that she had nothing to do with
the theft of the dog, and was humiliated when Mortimer replied, " ' And did
she also tell you to caress and to cherish him? -- to talk to him of his
master --' " Well might Cecilia cry, " ' ... to what has my unguarded folly
reduced me!' " Less giddily, Delvile asked why Cecilia was obviously intent
on returning to her formerly cold reserved self, " ' ... to sour the happiness
of a moment that recompenses such exquisite misery!' "
Even in the heat of his ecstasy, Mortimer has to bring in the fact that their
love will cause "such exquisite misery". His emotions of relief and pleasure
were alloyed with "sensations less pleasant". The guy makes me so angry I
want to slap him. Cecilia would find in her lover no pillar of strength upon
which she could lean. All strength for these two would have to come from her.
After several paragraphs of self abuse on the part of Cecilia, she was finally
mollified by Mortimer's avowals: " ' I find her more excellent and perfect
than I had even dared believe her; I discover new virtues in the spring of
every action; I see what I took for indifference, was dignity; I perceive
what I imagined the most rigid insensibility, was nobleness, was propriety,
was true greatness of mind! ' "
The guy can cover his ass. He did briefly allow himself to forget all the
dreadful repercussions of the love he and Cecilia so unwisely shared. But not
for long. Mortimer asked to have an audience with Cecilia the next morning,
so he could devote that night " ' ... solely to deliberation; to-morrow shall
be given to action. Without some thinking I dare venture no plan; -- I
presume not to communicate to you the various interests that divide me, but
the result of them all I can take no denial to your hearing.' " (p. 550)
With much difficulty did Cecilia get Mortimer to leave her, and when she
finally returned to the house, the "smile of much meaning" with which Mrs.
Charlton greeted her, told volumes about Mrs. C's intent, and Cecilia scolded
her for the "dangerous imprudence she had committed in suffering her to be so
unguardedly surprised." (p. 551) With about as much effect as all Elinor's
remonstrances had upon Mrs. Dashwood. (Thanks, Ellen, for another perceptive
post!)
Mortimer had asked at the door for Miss Beverley, and Mrs. Charlton, liking
his looks, " ... had suddenly conceived the little plan which she had executed
... " . Cecilia still did not understand why Mortimer had come in the first
place.
The mystery would be solved in the next chapter. All that mattered was that
all disguise was at an end. Delvile " ... was now become acquainted with his
power, and knew himself the master of her destiny ... ".
Too bad. He would prove a weak reed upon which to lean.
Jill Spriggs
Re: Burney: Cecilia:IV:7:3: & P&P and S&S
As we move towards the letter from Delvile in which he explains
his behavior -- which seems to me _the_ source for the climax
at Rosings in P&P and makes me begin to doubt P&P was
a letter novel -- I recognise all sorts of parallels between P&P
and Cecilia. There's the scene in the garden itself, the
coming upon one another, and some of the language:
It is Cecilia who is now accused of pride, and of course Elizabeth
is as guilty of offended pride as Darcy is of snobbish prejudice.
Of course the language here is impossible; no one ever spoke
to anyone the way these two young people do. I can only hope
that having written Camilla after a real wooing, marriage, and
child, Burney will not write such extravaganzas. On the other
hand, despite the overblown language, the emotion of the
scene feels real and it's effective. He is relieved to know she
loves him; she is relieved that he knows. I think this level of
caught by the narrator, as when she says to Cecilia it all
seemed "a vision of her imagination." Emma cannot quite
believe it's Knightley when she goes walking out into her
garden.
I'll bet there is another 18th century novel or play of this period
which this scene takes off from but we just don't know it. I like
Jill's allusion find of Hamlet.
Jill and I are agreed that Mrs Charlton plays the Mrs Dashwood
role in encouraging Mortimer to catch Cecilia unawares: the
language recalls how we are supposed to regard Mrs Dashwood's
behavior first at Norland Park where she was pleased to allow
Edward and Elinor to spend much time together and later
when she let the same situation develop much more intensely
between Willoughby and Marianne (a "dangerous imprudence
[which] she had committed in suffering her to be so
unguardedly surprised." [p. 551]). I've suggested that Moreland
Perkins is not quite right to argue that Edward is the a wholly
original conception defying the macho male by suggesting
some ways in which Mortimer resembles Edward Ferrars;
Willoughby too is, as Jill remarks of Mortimer, a weak reed.
That's partly his trouble. Willoughby runs away whenever the
going gets rough.
An absolutely thorough modernisation of the language might turn
this novel into a typical masterpiece theatre 6 part movie.
Ellen Moody
From: "Jill L. Spriggs" September 2, 1998
Nowadays if someone says, "I have a proposition for you," the speaker often
will be eyed askance. Delvile's proposition deserved the same treatment.
The next morning Mrs. Charlton saw to it the lovers would be left alone. But
these were not conventional lovers, and instead of each flying to the other's
arms, awkwardness and restraint reigned. Cecilia asked after Mrs. Delvile,
then conversation sputtered while Mortimer tried to whip up the courage to
share his plan to overcome the obstacles facing their marital union. He
sputtered out some cryptic nonsense about how at first he made his plans
consulting only himself, but reconsidered because there were many who would be
affected by his decisions. Cecilia rightfully "made him no answer" since he
had given her nothing to respond to. He did not inspire confidence with his
next speech:
Have any of my readers ever suffered a medical procedure at the hands of
someone who, in a misguided effort to be gentle and spare pain, instead draws
it out at agonizing length? You want to shout, "Just get it over with! Even
if it hurts!" Cecilia should have been warned at this point of what a pillar
of jello her prospective spouse was, and thought twice about taking him on.
When Cecilia greeted his awkward efforts with silence, Delvile protested, " '
Is Miss Beverley ... determined not to speak to me? Is she bent upon silence
on to intimidate me? Indeed if she knew how greatly I respect her, she would
honour me with more confidence.' "
Cecilia should have retorted, " I will when you give me something to respond
to." But since this was the eighteenth century, instead she asked, " ' When,
Sir, ... do you mean to make your tour?' "
Mortimer again began spewing avowals of passion, but still offered nothing
concrete. He offered to make Cecilia his "counselor and guide" but when she
responded by urging him to begin his European tour immediately, he hastened to
add that, before he could accept her advice, she must do something which would
Cecilia, feigning not to understand, said, " ' I think then, ... I must be
content to forbear giving any counsel at all, if the qualifications for it are
so difficult of acquirement.' " (p. 554)
I cannot help but contrast Jane Austen's scenes of high passion with Burney's.
Can anyone imagine, even in the eighteenth century, anyone spouting a speech
like Delvile's in this instance?
Gag ... retch ...
Cecilia, "abashed and uneasy", realized that Mortimer was saying a lot without
coming to the point, and tried to leave, but was detained by that wordy lover
and (at great length I am sure) compelled to admit " a frank confirmation of
his power over her heart, and an ingenuous, though reluctant acknowledgment,
how long he had possessed it." (pp. 554 - 555)
Although at first he was ecstatic over Cecilia's reluctantly admitted
confession, Mortimer soon had second thoughts: "The joy with which he heard
it ... was not of long duration, a sudden, and most painful recollection
presently quelled it, and even in the midst of his rapturous acknowledgments,
seemed to strike him to the heart." Seeing Cecilia's reaction to his abrupt
change in mood (you know, I start to think the guy is a nut case), Mortimer
whined, " ' Ah! Miss Beverley, what words will I find to soften what I have
to reveal! to tell you that, after goodness, candour, generosity such as
yours, a request, a supplication remains yet to be uttered that banishes me,
if refused, from your presence forever!' "
Again the painfully prolonged medical procedure comes to mind. At long last
Mortimer managed to blurt out his plan. " ... all his hopes of being ever
united to her, rested upon obtaining her consent to an immediate and secret
marriage." ( p. 555)
Cecilia greeted this proposition with the scorn it deserved and tried to
depart in high dudgeon, but was detained by her would be suitor, who feebly
asserted that
Cecilia had sufficient self esteem to angrily reply, " ' Neither, then, Sir,
... will I! The disdain I may meet with I pretend not to retort, but wilfully
to encounter, were meanly to deserve it. I will enter into no family in
opposition to its wishes. I will consent to no alliance that may expose me to
indignity.' " (pp. 556 - 557)
In the course of trying to persuade Cecilia to reconsider, Mortimer let slip
the reason for his visit. His friend, and Cecilia's spurned suitor, Mr.
Biddulph, had written and congratulated Mortimer on his conquest. He
mentioned that Fidel was Cecilia's cherished companion (guessing the dog was a
gift of Mortimer's), and noted that " ' ... at the sound of your name, she
blushes; at the mention of your illness, she turns pale ...' " Cecilia
"burst into tears" when she realized that her partiality was common knowledge.
She ordered Mortimer from her presence, and when he asked when he could
return, she cried, " ' Never, never! ... I am sufficiently lowered already,
but never will I intrude myself into a family that disdains me!' " (p. 558)
Mortimer swore no one in his family disdained her, that it was only the "fatal
clause" that was the obstacle. Using a large number of high flown words, he
tried to sweet talk Cecilia into contemplating the step he proposed, and did
succeed in softening her enough to agree to receive a letter in which he would
better explain his reasons for the proposal of a secret marriage. In spite of
being gratified by all his soft soap, " ... she resolved never to comply with
so humiliating a measure, but to wait the consent of his friends, or renounce
him for ever." ( p. 560)
Ellen has proposed the possibility of a parallel to be drawn between
tomorrow's letter, and the letter from Darcy to Elizabeth after her rejection
of his marriage proposal. It will be interesting to read it with that in
mind.
Jill Spriggs
Subject: Cecilia, A Proposition Jill, I must tell you I'm enjoying your synopsis of Cecilia immensely.
I agree with your assessment of Mortimer, especially with each word he
utters. What a dope! What Cecilia sees in him is a mystery. I guess
he just must be so much better than her other suitors, he shines in
comparison.
I loved her advice to him in this chapter to head on over to the
continent with all possible speed. She really ought to stick to that
advice and not be talked into anything by this silver-tongued devil.
I too look forward to the "Letter" to come. I suspect, I'll prefer Mr.
Darcy's to Mr. Devile's since I have in everything else so far.
Sallie Knowles
Re: Burney, Cecilia:IV:7:4: The Clandestine Marriage
To understand what an insult plus danger to Cecilia
Mortimer's proposal of a secret marriage constitutes one
has to read Lawrence Stone's Uncertain Unions and
Broken Vows. Unless a marriage was performed before
properly identified witnesses, signed before some official
of the state, it was common for the man or woman or
various family members later to try to get out of all
obligations. The whole point of the Act of 1753 was to
regularise and stop secret marriage.
There is something contradictory or not probable here.
If Mortimer really were as sensitive and in love as he
claims to be, a man just quivering with sensibility and
honour, he would not make such a proposal. Lovelace
makes these proposals, not Mortimer. Of course the
18th century might have said Mortimer is kidding himself,
and has persuaded himself he really will hold fast to his
vows without the paraphernalia of the state and witnesses
to keep him to it, but it just is not quite in accord with
the uprightness of character Burney has endowed him
with.
As in all Austen's novels and
as in Evelina, there is a deliberate avoidance of the
moment in which the man and especially the woman
avow their love. Lascelles explains this away as
embarrassment before a press that will make an auto-
biographical connection. I think it goes deeper. Jill
quoted a portion of it to which I'll add some more lines
so that we may all see how reminiscent of such moments
in Austen such a scene is: ''Cecilia, "abashed and uneasy",
realized that Mortimer was saying a lot without coming to the
point, and tried to leave, but was detained by that wordy lover,
and
This confession, made, as affairs now stood, wholly
in opposition to her judgement, was torn from her by an impetuous
urgency which she had not presence of mind to resist ... The
joy with which he heard it, though but little mixed with wonder,
was as violent as the eagerness with which he had sought
it; yet it was not of long duration, a sudden, and most
painful recollection presently quelled it, and even in the midst
of his rapturous acknowledgements, seemed to strike him
to the heart" (Oxford ed, MADoody & PSabor, pp. 554 - 555). The closing lines are effective, but how much better it could
have been had Burney tried to visualise or dramatise the
moment through realistic dialogue -- which she is capable of.
The first paragraph recalls several of Austen's scene (Henry
Tilney and Catherine, Elinor Dashwood and Edward, Darcy
and Elizabeth the second time), even to the rhythm of the
lines. I am disappointed at this prudery. It is prudery.
Jill's commentary brings out the salient lines of each
chapter, and some central problems and strengths in each,
without ever either condescending or overpraising Burney.
That Burney has become neither a target
or excuse for acrimony nor a totem and excuse for
self-satisfied display is due to her tasteful and sensible
commentaries.
Ellen Moody
From: "Jill L. Spriggs" September 2, 1998
Mortimer's letter had at least one thing in common with Darcy's. They were
both long.
Mrs. Charlton was eager to receive the good news, but when she heard of the
offer Mortimer had made, she was as filled with indignation as Cecilia. Mrs.
C agreed with her determination to refuse all further contact until any
proposals should be seconded by the would be lover's parents.
Two hours after he left, his letter arrived. His ability to write so quickly
passes belief. This was one long letter to be composed in such a short time.
First Delvile bemoaned Cecilia's reluctance to receive letters from him,
assuring her of his above board intentions. He weakened his own case,
however, by promptly assuring her that " ' ... I have no resource, no
alternative, between receiving the honour of your hand in secret or foregoing
you for-ever.' "
Mortimer explained the extent and strength of his family's pride in their
lineage, and their guardianship of the honour of the name. He was one of the
tribe, and " ' ... almost the first lesson I was taught was that if
reverencing the family name to which I am born.' "
The letter was a teeming mass of contradictions, but the upshot was that, in
return for his giving up his name, he requested that their marriage be kept
secret. Not permanently, but only until the ceremony had been performed.
Mortimer was so sure of the love of his parents, and their affection for
Cecilia, that he was sure that the wayward couple would speedily be forgiven.
Cecilia showed the letter to Mrs. Charlton, who was won over by " ... the
frankness with which he had stated his difficulties... " Cecilia still
remembered Henrietta Belfield, and decided to first ask about the true nature
of their friendship, and then agree to marry him if he first asked the
permission of his parents. She suspected he would not. And Cecilia could not
so betray the love and regard Mrs. Delvile had always shown for her.
Jill Spriggs
September 3, 1998
Re: Burney: Cecilia,IV:7:5: Mortimer's Long Letter
While Mortimer's letter differs from Darcy's in its subject matter,
It was intended to play a similar pivotal role in the book.
Alas, it really doesn't. If we had had no idea that the obstacle
to a marriage between Mortimer and Cecilia was the demand that
anyone who married her and wanted to inherit her property take
her name, then the letter would have the effect of a revelation.
But Cecilia has guessed this and it's been made plain for us
from a series of hints.
Darcy's letter also reveals some truths about his inner character
and history and nature which Elizabeth is completely ignorant of.
It begins a revolution in attitudes in Elizabeth towards Darcy and
Wickham; it also make us change our minds about what has
gone on before, and return to the first part of the novel to reread
and see it from Darcy's point of view. Finally it begins a change
in Darcy himself. This last Austen is not as successful at
showing since Darcy is kept off stage for too long and we see
him Before and After (as it were) but not over the long haul
of change, which I think Austen intended to do for Wentworth.
Still even if she isn't as successful as she meant to be, she
has a certain success.
Mortimer's letter does not reveal a man we never expected was
there; it is not a startling new perspective on all that has gone
before.
That said, it does reveal how much he cares, and I think to the
18th century reader was an important sign that after all Mortimer
would marry Cecilia once the obstacle was removed. The
obstacle is Cecilia's money and we can remember that Cecilia
has been working at losing that as fast as reasonably can be
expected.
On the rhetoric I thought I would comment this: while the language
and attitudes of Mortimer are extravagant and unreal, the formality
of his language is not. I was reading selections from the letters of
Anthony Trollope's father and mother before they married, and
they do write to one another in what we would consider an oddly
stilted and self-conscious manner. They hit a note of distrust and
wariness -- which Austen also uses in her letters to her niece
about whether the niece should marry or not, and which we can
find everywhere in Richardson's fictional letter novels. This
hard-core lack of sentiment towards other people's motives lies
behind the overdone rhetoric which at the time would have been
"read" as a version of politeness and respect. It is hard to get
back to the past and read the words in the hum and buzz
of an earlier time, and perhaps we should not entirely discount
this posing language as improbable to the ears of an 18th
century young man and women. Once they got away from
the chaperones, and were left to themselves, given the
growth in prudery and the strong taboos against any
lady yielding the slightest sex to a young man before
they were engaged -- perhaps the discomfort the language
of Mortimer and Cecilia to one another bears witness to
is real or was probable.
Ellen Moody
Reply-To: Jane Austen List
Subject: Cecilia, Vol. IV, Bk. VII, Ch. I, A Renovation
" ' So ho!' cried he with a loud laugh, ' I have caught you! This will be a
fine anecdote for Lady Margaret; I vow I'll tell her. ' " (p. 534)
" ' Why you won't pretend Miss Beverley say you were the truest Ouran Outrang,
or man-monkey, she ever knew?'
" ' This helplessness of insipidity, however, though naturally the effect of a
mind devoid of all genuine resources, was dignified by herself with
appellation of sorrow: nor was this merely a screen to the world; unused to
investigate her feelings or examine her heart, the general compassion she met
for the loss of her husband, persuaded her that indeed she lamented his
destiny; though had no change in her life had been caused by his suicide, she
would scarcely, when the first shock was over, have thought of it again.' "
(p. 537)
Subject: Burney: _Cecilia_,IV:7:1 Time Out to Recharge One's Battery
To: austen-l@vm1.mcgill.ca
Reply-To: Jane Austen List
From: "Jill L. Spriggs"
Subject: Cecilia, Vol. IV, Bk. VII, Ch. II, A Visit
I am missing Lady Honoria's frank assessment of their sensibilities.
" ' Why now suppose I had brought you together, what possible harm could have
happened from it? It would merely have given each of you some notion of a
fever and ague; for first you would both have been hot, and then you would
both have been cold, and then you would both have turned red, and then you
would both have turned white, and then you would both have pretended to simper
at the trick; and there would have been an end of it.' "
Subject: Cecilia, Vol. IV, Bk. VII, Ch. III, An Incident
To: AUSTEN-L@VM1.MCGILL.CA
September 1, 1998
" Her astonishment at this sight almost bereft her of her understanding; it
appeared to her super-natural, and she rather believed it was his ghost than
himself. Fixed in mute wonder, she stood still though terrified, her eyes
almost bursting from their sockets to be satisfied if what they saw was real."
"'Come, dear Fidel!' cried he, still detaining her, 'come
and plead for your master! come and ask in his hame who now
had a proud heart, whose pride is now invincible_'' (Oxford
ed, PSabor and MADoody, Cecilia, p. 548).
Subject: Cecilia, Vol. IV, Bk. VII, Ch. IV, A Proposition
To: AUSTEN-L@VM1.MCGILL.CA
" ' Upon you, madam, ... all that is good or evil of my future
life, as far as relates to its happiness or misery, will, from this very hour,
almost solely depend: yet much as I rely upon your goodness, and superior as
I know you to trifling or affectation, what I now come to propose -- to
petition -- to entreat -- I cannot summon courage to mention, from a dread of
alarming you! ' " (Oxford Cecilia, ed. M. A. Doody and P. Sabor, p.
553)
" ' ... fit you for the charge ... you must be invested with fuller powers,
you must have a right less disputable, and a title, that not alone,
inclination, not even judgment alone must sanctify, -- but which law must
enforce, and rites the most solemn support!' "
" ' Resent not my presumption, ... my beloved Miss Beverley, but let the
severity of my recent sufferings palliate my present temerity; for where
affliction has been deep and serious, causeless and unnecessary misery will
find little encouragement; and mine has been serious indeed! Sweetly, then,
permit me, in proportion to its bitterness, to rejoice in the soft reverse
which now flatters me with its approach. ' " (p. 554)
" ' ... my scheme ... is the result of deliberation, and ...
springs not from unworthy motives.' " ( p. 556) He protested that her purity
was valued as "the chief source of my admiration", but Cecilia was not
mollified, asking him why then had he proposed "such a project". With
difficulty Mortimer admitted that " ' ... my family, I am certain, will never
consent to our union!' "
To: Jane Austen listserv
after a short conversation, on his side, the most impassioned,
and on hers the most confused, obtained from her, what indeed,
after the surprise of the preceding evening she could but ill
deny, a frank confirmation of his power over her heart, and
an ingenuous, though reluctant acknowledgment, how long he had
possessed it.
Subject: Cecilia, Vol. IV, Bk. VII, Ch. V, A Letter
To: AUSTEN-L@VM1.MCGILL.CA
Ellen Moody.
Pagemaster: Jim
Moody.
Page Last Updated 18 January 2003