Date: Thu, 18 Jun 1998 Dear Ellen,
You wondered if rich people still went to opera rehearsals. I did an
internship at the Bavarian State Opera and can at least tell you what
went on there.
Usually only the artists were present in regular rehearsals. The final
rehearsal before the performance (Generalprobe) can turn into a social
event. Several prominent German actors and members of Munich's high
society were at the "Fledermaus" Generalprobe. They received tickets
and the general public was not admitted.
The big event here (as I think was also the case then) is the premiere,
especially, in Germany, of Wagner operas. Then all the people who can
afford exorbitantly priced tickets or have obtained them through their
connections to the arts world step out in their best.
Autumn
Date: Sun, 21 Jun 1998 Cecilia, disgusted by the selfish materialism of the Harrel household, carried
out her resolution of visiting her guardians, hoping to find a more congenial
residence. First to receive this honor was Mr. Briggs.
Too bad Cecilia allowed herself to be blinded by Mr. Briggs' undesirable
traits, not seeing that this man really would be the most suitable in spite of
his grossness. At least this man had a sense of humor, unlike either Mr.
Harrel or Mr. Delvile. Even if he were careful about any personal
expenditures, he could hardly keep Cecilia from purchasing what she saw fit
for her own use. Mr. Briggs also had no inflated sense of self importance,
and I loved his terms for his fellow guardians: "Don Puffabout ... Don Vampus
[for Mr. Delvile] ... poor raw ninny [for Mr. Harrel] ..." His cautions about
potential lovers were good, if Cecilia were not a characteristic twenty year
old, sure that she was a much better judge of suitability of a potential
husband than the greedy geezer.
Hopefully musing that " ... her third guardian, unless exactly resembling one
of the others, must inevitably be preferable to both," Cecilia wasted no time
in calling upon her third guardian, Mr. Delvile.
It was immediately apparent upon entering the home of Mr. Delvile that
parsimony was not one of his faults; his home was " ... grand and spacious,
fitted up not with modern taste, but with the magnificence of former times ...
". Don Puffabout was just the name for Mr. Delvile; apparently he was bent
in awing his charge with his generous condescension (remember our debate about
just this term a few months ago?) in so promptly having her shown into his
presence. He puffed a little by describing the great crush of petitioners
usually occupying his time, and puffed a little more by alluding to his " ...
affairs ... dispersed throughout the kingdom." Cecilia, far from being
encouraged by his kindness, felt effectively quelled, and was ready to leave
almost upon arrival (easily discouraged girl!). Mr. Delvile was thrilled by
the impression he had apparently made upon the shy young miss, and redoubled
his efforts, being so " ... infinitely condescending, with intention to give
her courage, that he totally depressed her with mortification and chagrin."
It appears that Mr. Delvile was no more impressed with Mr. Briggs than Mr.
Briggs was with him; he kindly pointed out to Cecilia that, when he found Mr.
Briggs was to be his coguardian, he refused the office and only agreed to take
it on after graciously receiving the apology of the Dean. Interesting that it
was Mr. Briggs that found the Harrels objectionable; to Mr. Delvile, they
were, " ' decent sort of people,' " even if they did " ' ... live at great
expense.' "
Cecilia gave up too easily. Like most teenagers, she hesitated to give up a
comfortable existence for one which could be less comfortable; remember Jane
Eyre's disdain for the possibility of going to live with her father's family,
because she believed the Reeds when they told her that they were " ... a
beggarly set ..."? Cecilia, for all her distaste for the Harrel's expensive
live style, did not wish to replace it with one of extreme frugality, as Mr.
Briggs, even if he would never take advantage of her monetarily as Mr. Harrel
would do. And Cecilia ruled out a residence with "Don Vampus" not realizing
that his wife could be a truly congenial friend, and she could have been happy
there, again without being drained dry of her parents' fortune. After all,
she would really only spend meals with the arrogant aristocrat. And the
unfortunate attachment she would form would not have occurred, IMHO.
Discouraged, Cecilia returned to the Harrels' to find preparations for the
masquerade which take place in a week, in full swing. As usual, massive
unnecessary expense would be incurred, but she was now in a state of
resignation. Too bad she had not fled while there was still time!
Chapter 3, the Masquerade, deserves a post of its own.
Jill Spriggs
From: "Jill L. Spriggs" Reading this chapter once again I feel like someone at a three ring circus;
so much going on one hardly knows where to look first.
To supply a little background for this evening of decadence, we are shown just
what a house of cards Mr. Harrel was living in. He was importuned, not by the
starving wife of a carpenter who knew he might not be paid when he took the
job, but a larger fish, the owner of an awning business who insisted that, as
he had to pay his own expenses, so he must be paid. A dangerous precedent had
been set. Mr. Arnott, to please Cecilia, had paid the poor Hills, but now
when pressed by Mr. Rawlins, Mr. Arnott was immediately turned to for
assistance. If not checked, Mr. Harrel would unhesitatingly drain Mr. Arnott
dry, a fact Cecilia would have done well to notice.
Why Priscilla's insensitivity to the dunning Rawlins should startle Cecilia, I
do not know. She had already abundant evidence of Mrs. Harrel's willful
disregard for the Impending destruction of their very frail lifestyle. The
Harrels remind me of another family adept at " ... living upon nothing a year
... ", the Rawdons in Vanity Fair. I wonder if Thackeray had read Burney,
and thought of the Harrels when he wrote about Becky Sharp and her husband.
Another similarity is how the Rawdons led their hapless landlord into
destruction; he was thrown into the Fleet Street Prison for not paying for
the food and others necessaries that the Rawdons consumed. Mr. Harrel would
have no problem with impoverishing either Mr. Arnott or Cecilia.
Priscilla's assuring Cecilia that she needed no costume was no favor. It left
her in a position of vulnerability, unable to discern the identities of her
fellow partiers, while they were immediately able to tell hers. The
identities of all but Priscilla, her husband, and Mr. Arnott, were mysteries
to her.
After her initial awkwardness at discovering she was almost alone in not being
costumed, she enjoyed " ... the novelty of the scene ...".
I must ruefully admit to not recognizing the identity of Cecilia's first and
most annoying meeting, that with the devil, until I was told by Burney
herself. In her life with the Harrel's Cecilia was fighting off more demons
than even she was aware, and this mask is an effective symbol of Cecilia's
many adversaries. She was fighting the temptation for a life of ease and
complacency, pursuing the life of self sacrifce and benefits for the poor with
the help of the angel she perceived in Albany, the mysterious haranger. As
might be surmised, the devil was one of Cecilia's hopeful husbands, but not
the one she thought, Sir Robert Floyer, who was understandably insulted by her
error. Mr. Monckton who in real life would have liked to keep all the bees
away from this honey, was as successful at the masque as he was at the
Harrels'; first the Don Quixote (Mr. Belfield) broke his wand (unmanning,
emasculating him?) then the white domino completed his confusion by chasing
him from room until Mr. Monckton tired of his game.
This white domino's identity would still be unknown to Cecilia at the end of
the party. She would get to see him out of costume in the next chapter, but
would not learn who he was until the following. Too bad she did not listen
more closely to the warning in one of her early conversations with him:
' My uncle?' cried Cecilia, starting, ' were you acquainted with my uncle?'
'No, for my happiness I knew him not.'
' You would have owed no loss of happiness to an acquaintance with him, '
said Cecilia, very seriously, ' for he was one who dispensed to his friends
nothing but good.'
' Perhaps so, " said the domino; 'but I fear I should have found the good he
dispensed through his niece not quite unmixed with evil!' " What Cecilia did not quite catch, is the fact that the evil alluded to by the
white domino, was the condition attached to her marriage, that the husband
take on her name. It would prove to be a severe stumbling block to her future
happiness.
Back to the masquerade;
Mr. Briggs' costume was, IMHO, quite appropriate. Soiled in his costume as he
was with his pursuit of money, he was avoided by one and all. But his basic
good nature was still apparent, in his affectionate treatment of his ward
(more so than the more palatable Mr. Harrel). His pride made me smile, with
his reaction to Sir Robert's threat to pull his "beastly snub nose"; " '
Beastly snub nose!' spluttered out the chimney sweeper, in much wrath, ' good
nose enough; don't want a better; good as another man's. Where's the harm
on't?' " I loved his treatment of her pernicious demon, when Monckton would
not allow him to free Cecilia from her persistent admirers.
'Shew you the way, ' cried he, ' shovel him off.' And taking his shovel, he
very roughly set about removing him.
' The fiend then began a yell so horrid, that it disturbed the whole company;
but the chimney sweeper, only saying 'Aye, blacky, growl away blacky, - makes
no odds, - ' sturdily continued his work, and as the fiend had no chance of
resisting so coarse an antagonist without a serious struggle, he was presently
compelled to change his ground." I quite enjoyed all the rough treatment Mr. Monckton received from all his
antagonists. I know many had trouble with the violence received by Mr. Lovel
and Madame Duval in Evelina, but how can anyone dispute the appropriateness
of Mr. Monckton's comeuppance here?
Burney's musicality slipped in again when the white domino and Cecilia met an
Apollo with a harp. The domino requested some music from the divinity, but
was rebuffed with,
'O for a Midas,' cried the white domino, ' to return to this leather eared god
the disgrace he received from him!' " What a philistine, to mistake the tones of an oboe for a flute! Doubtless,
the white domino would prove to share yet another affinity with Cecilia; that
for divine music.
There is so much food for conversation in this chapter, but I have run on
enough already. Would anyone care to share their opinions on the School
Master, the Don Quixote, the Turk, or the Harlequin?
Jill Spriggs
From: "Jill L. Spriggs" In this fascinating chapter on the masquerade, I found myself wondering if
some of the men in Burney's life could be behind those masques. Could that be
her father or Samuel Crisp in the devil's suit, warding off all who might
cause a diminution of their power? How about Samuel Johnson as the school
master; clever, erudite, witty conversationalist? Or the desired but unknown
lover of her future, the amorphous, blank domino (also a fellow lover of
music!).
This chapter could be read on so many levels. Much time could be spent here.
Jill Spriggs
Date: Tue, 30 Jun 1998 Sir Robert Floyer is like Austen's Charles Adams in Jack and Alice. Too sure
of himself, not finding anybody equal to his own worth. Also he is kind of
like Mr. Darcy. The words "haughty" are used for him on more than one
occasion. But maybe because of the way he stares at Cecilia he reminds me
Lord Osborne's behavior towards Emma Watson.
Mr Briggs: Although his rambling style annoyed me a little his romantic
advice was one of a kind and very fitting to his philosophy of life (Money
is everything):
"Never set your heart on a fine outside, nothing within." (V.1, Book II,
Chapter 3) Good advice indeed, but he doesn't mean it the way we understand.
He means looking rich doesn't mean being rich.
Jill wrote:
I found Cecilia to be of a very different character than Evelina and I have
to confess I like her much better. For one, she is more used to society so
(I hope) she won't keep embarrassing herself like Evelina did. And she also
has some wit that Evelina lacked. I see glimpses of Elizabeth Bennet in her
quick mind:
Miss Larolles:" Well, but now comes the vilest part of the business, do you
know, when everything else was ready, I could not get my hair-dersser! ...
And so, after all this monstrous fatigue, I was forced to have my hair
dressed by my own maid, quite in a common way; was not it cruelly mortifying?"
"Why yes," answered Cecilia, "I should think it was almost sufficient to
make you regret the illness of the young lady who sent you the ticket."
(V.1 Book 1, Chapter 3) The Masquerade (V.1, Book II, Chapter 3):
I like this Chapter. The public scenes in Cecilia are not disturbing and
distasteful as in Evelina. There is much difference between Evelina being
held captive by two whores and Cecilia by the devil (which is a very clever
idea). I tried to keep guessing which one of her suitors he might be, and
first one that came to my mind was Mr Monckton. I found him to be a Montoni
in disguise from the first moment. I have a feeling he is going to be a
black cloud shadowing her throughout the novel. Cecilia suspects the devil
to be Sir Robert Floyer because she "could neither speak nor be spoken to
... she imagined the only person who could have the assurance to practices
is was Sir Robert Floyer". And she hopes that's him because "[she] should be
sorry to find there was another [man] equally disaggreeable" Well, the fact
that the devil doesn't speak make it possible that he might indeed be Sir
Robert.
Don Quixote wasn't that easy. I though about Mr Morrice, but I don't think
he would have "gravely retired" after his triumph. Who could it be?
Also Miss Larolles as the Goddess of Wisdom and Courage is a nice touch.
Talk about irony. (And I am not talking about the courage part which is made
clear in the book when she is among the first to ran away from the growling
devil.)
I thought the white domino to be Mr Gosport as soon as he said:
"O, depend upon it... there are many who would be happy to confine you in
the same manner; neither have you much cause for complaint; you have,
doubtless, been the aggressor, and played this game yourself without mercy,
for i read in your face the captivity of thousands: have you, then, any
right to be offended at the spirit of retaliation which one, out of such
numbers has courage to exert in return?"
And the fact that he went to enquire after a discussion they overheard
confirmed my suspicion (as he went to ask Miss Larolles what the problem was
at the Opera Rehearsal)
I began writing this without finishing the chapter. Alas, now that the
schoolmaster is revealed to be Mr Gosport I have to think about the white
domino again. Can it be Albany, the man-hater? But this doesn't seem to be
his talking style. The Turk(!) is revealed to be Sir Robert Floyer. Morrice
is the Harlequin. And the devil was really Mr. Monckton (that has to make up
for my wrong guess at Gosport). Cecilia thinks the white domino is Mr
Belfield but he turns out to be Don Quixote.
-
I don't agree with Ellen Moody totally when she says in her post of 21 Jun
1998 "Creating Real Voices in Fictions: Austen and Burney"
The problem I have is that too many characters are thrown at our face all at
once and it is hard to distinguish who is who. Burney often does this. New
people are introduced in crowded social functions and it is hard to keep
track off. As I read further into the book I think the different voices
start to appear. I had the same problem when I encountered the Branghtons
and Mr Brown and Mr Smith all at once. And as somebody [OLS: for Original
Lost Sorry] then aptly said [FM] 'Smith or Brown, it doesn't matter, one may
pass for the other!'
[Hey, these acronyms are very useful!]
Somebody said when we started reading Cecilia [OLS - again] that they
wouldn't try to keep track of all, only the ones that would come up again.
The problem with that is usually almost all of them come up again and if
this happens far away in the story (a la Radcliffe) you start thinking 'who
was that? I know I read about him/her before'.
I was doing OK so far reading in English but the following sentence of the
white domino puzzled me:
What does he mean? He is talking about Don Quixote, schoolmaster and the
devil.Does he mean Dress change wasn't enough for them to be disguised? That
he knows who they are and their real characters fit with their constume? (I
have a feeling they do, but I don't think this is what he means) From their
vioces Cecilia recognizes Miss Larolles and Mr Morrice, so these three
people cannot be the only badly disguised. Are they the only three disguised
good? Or they are disguised because they changed more than their dress?
(contrary to my fisrt observation they adopted behaviour that is opposite of
their own?)
I also don't understand why Cecilia says in answer to the white domino's
question of "You told me you knew him, - has he any right to follow you?"
"If he thinks he has, this is no time to dispute it."
Wouldn't this be taken as encouragement? (kind of like Elizabeth trying to
warn off Darcy by saying she usually walks in that area and he takes this as
invitation and encouragement). First I thought I read it wrong and it says
"This is time to dispute it."
Are we talking about Domino the game here? Whatever it was it must have been
popular disguise in those times because in the masquared of Austen's Jack
and Alice there are also Dominos.
On an unrelated note regarding acronyms: Shirley Gershen suggested that
"they be given at the bottom of the table of contents of each day's
postings". How about putting them on an Austen-L related webpage (with the
etiquette etc) with the handy list of movie adaptation acronyms?
PS to Ellen: I don't know how to take this:
"Handsome young men must have something to live on, as well as the plain."
Aysin Dedekorkut
Robert Ward:
He is arguing that because the party is a masquerade, people are
meant to disguise themselves in dress *and* behaviour ,The people who
have come in fancy dress should behave (or at least attempt to behave)
in a manner appropriate to the costume they have adopted, e.g., the
"schoolmaster" behaved like a schoolmaster, the "devil" like a devil and
so on, whereas the others just put on different costumes and behaved as
they did normally, making it easy to identify them and thus spoiling the
point of the fun. Presumably Cecilia has more difficulty because she is
less familiar with the guests (and therefore "White Domino" is showing
off a bit).
She doesn't want to start an argument in the middle of a party, which
would expose her to some embarrassment and ridicule.
No - a domino in this context is a long cloak with a hood.
RW
To Austen-l
June 27, 1998
Re: Burney and Austen's Juvenilia: "Jack and Alice" & Cecilia: Masquerades
Dear Maria and those interested in Burney and Austen's Juvenilia:
I find Jack and Alice interesting because the surface of the text
works by pretending to elegance and then dropping suddenly into
brutal reality. Thus there is all the pretense of beauty, pride,
and vanity in the masquerade, and then we hear how the whole party
of Johnsons ended up "Dead Drunk." We get a panegyric on the
virtuous governess, Miss Dickins, who on the night she weeps
eternal devotion to her pupil elopes with the butler. In another
scene typical of romance as we listen to the story of a trip
into a romantic wood we suddenly confront the detail of a trap
which breaks the leg of the teller. A broken leg was no joke
in Austen's period; upper class people did set traps for those
who trespassed on their property. We could see the inheritress
of the great fortune--super beautiful and virtuous (Chapter
the Seventh, in the Oxford Classics ed by MADoody, pp 22-4)
as a parody and distillation of the presentation of _Cecilia_.
But in Chapter Eight we get a little story of Bath in epistolary
form which may equally be read as a parody of Austen's own
NA.
I like Jack and Alice because like Love and Friendship it
has some length and development and more depth and we can get
some fuller sense of what tone and goals for the "scrap" Austen
had in mind--as we cannot easily with the shorter pieces.
The disjunctive nature of the shorter pieces make it hard to
know how to respond. Divagations galore may be what the young girl Jane Austen is enjoying.
On Cecilia and "Jack and Alice": it does seem from some of
the details Austen was remembering the masquerade in Burney's
novel. But there are also details which specifically recall
Sir Charles Grandison which opens with a masquerade. Actually
I think Burney's masquerade is itself much more interesting.
Richardson is only interested in dressing Harriet Byron as a
very sexy doll, getting her there, registering her "shock"
at all this amorality, and then having Sir Pollexfen abduct her.
Austen remembered one detail of Harriet's costume for a long
time afterwards, but the applicability and incongruity of
the costumes recalls Cecilia much more closely.
I don't think the devil overdone in Burney. If you read the
diary, it seems upper class young men were often what we
might call very rude. Aristocrats were especially arrogant.
Also remember the purpose of the masquerade was to hide
one's identity, and the reason they were looked so askance
at was people could get away with breaking all sorts of
tabooes and the general "code of good manners." Monckton
is just doing in costume what he longs to do when he's Monckton.
I did guess it was Monckton before Burney told us.
Why is Burney not more respected? I think she is weighed against
what came after her and found wanting. She was read: in Vanity
Fair Becky Sharp writes a letter to Amelia Sedley showing Thackeray
expected his readers in the mid-century to recognize allusions to
Cecilia, Evelina, and Udolpho. Becky and Amelia used to
read Cecilia together. But her technique does not aim at
deeply complex characters in a primarily realistic situation.
That's there, but it's mixed with a strongly satiric aim,
use of caricature and essay-like techniques.
em>Cecilia is a book written from a distinctly woman's point
of view--as is Evelina. Perhaps this is
the reason Burney has been ignored. I remember when I was an
undergraduate in a course on 18th century novels, the boys in
the class were embarrassed by Evelina. It was a "girls' book."
When I taught NA twice, I found a number of the males had
the same response. They were embarrassed to talk about Catherine's
anguish when she found herself regarded as a wallflower. Burney is also overtly not about sex.
Her heroines are maidens; the married ones have problems with money, not sex. So it seems
more childlike than the books by men which came later -- where they could indirectly present
sexual experience.
Ellen Moody
To Austen-l
June 20, 1998
Re: Burney: Cecilia spends money on books and Mrs Hill
This is to agree wth Maria Ehrenberg that the strongest
character in the book is Cecilia. We feel her as a real
presence. Burney's closeness to her reminds me of Austen's
closeness to Elinor Dashwood. I think they are similar
types. Reading further I think Cecilia's plans for her
day are not satirized, but that we are supposed simply
to sympathize and identify:
We are told how entertained she was, how now that she
had one year left to herself, she spends her money
"gratifying taste" and "inclinations" in building this
little library.
I was also touched by the tone of this close to Book II,
Chapter I:
Some may laugh, and Tony Tanner might feel a need to
defend the content of this, but I don't. I don't know
that one can pass time much better. The problem with
those who sincerely complain about "a lack of large
general commitments" is they are not sufficiently
disillusioned, are altogether too proud and convinced
of the need for their doings to be significant.
Vanitas vanitatem.
Ellen Moody
To Austen-l
June 22, 1998
Re: Cecilia, I:II:1-3: A Man of Wealth, of Family, & A Man to Exploit
I'd like to add a couple of comments to what Jill said about the
above paired chapters. I too agree Mr Briggs has a "sense
of humor," and add I thought his way of dubbing the other
characters in the novels allegorically highlight the comic
effect Burney wanted, and perhaps reveals to us how she
thought about them herself. His ""Don Puffabout ... Don Vampus
[for Mr. Delvile] ... poor raw ninny [for Mr. Harrel] " are apt
and mean. Satire is often cruel. One problem though is
if Burney doesn't quite believe in her figures, if at some level
of her mind they remain caricatures for her, it's no wonder
they don't always seem three-dimensional to us.
There was also good humor in Mr Briggs. Thus far our Cissy
and her narrator are actually a sardonic and disillusioned
pair--at least the effect of their text is. Off list Jill commented
on some scenes from real life as described by others
today that: "And many must be hypocrites or
go mad, agonizing over the empty charade their lives
really are." This seems to me the basic insight behind
Cecilia. So when Mr Briggs starts to be gentle and
good-humored after he "empties his mind of ill-will,"
and suddenly appears affectionate and thus more human,
it is very pleasant, e.g.,
It's fun when she says no, and he declares she's fibbing,
and then thinks he will find her a sweetheart himself.
There was a devastating line in the Delville scene: he
doesn't want to visit her while she's with the Harrels
because he is "fearful of being embarrassed by the
people with whom you live" (p. 99). This is devastating
because he "tells us what we [and others] have only
thought" (the line is Johnson's).
I will move just into the opening of the brilliant chapter
"A Masquerade" to mention again how Burney
presents fully, emphatically and with sympathy lower
class working and middling people and types like
contractors that we simply never find in Austen in their
own right or who at best appear marginally, unnamed,
and only as they affect some tiny phase of the major
gentry characters' existence. As the masquerade
is about to begin, in comes Mr Rawlins with his bill.
It is he who has built the awning, he who with his
workers has provided the setting in which the Harrels
mean to kill yet more of their ostentatious and frivolous
time. Like the Hills, he has not been paid; he tells
us he has to pay others. Others are dependent
upon him. Of course Mrs Harrel says, 'Did you
ever hear anything so impertinent?' (p. 104). Alas
not in an Austen or Radcliffe novel, but perhaps
had I been alive in the 18th century and in these
great houses I would have heard such complaints
regularly, if spoken more fearfully or softly (in the
hope of getting paid). The whole scene where
Harrel puts the man off and we know has no
intention of paying him is an appropriate
prelude to the masquerade to come.
If we read the sentiments and take in the
satirical aims of the portraits of this man of wealth,
this one of family, and the indignant and
pathetic one there to be exploited, we see in Burney
a savage criticism of the actual lives of many
upper class aristocrats and gentry of her time.
I have to say there is really no comparison
between the subject matter and what is
aimed at in Evelina and Cecilia. The first
is a young girl's fairy tale and gothic romance
with some lively scenes of contemporary life
thrown in; its most serious scenes are those
in which a young women is sexually harassed
by a young man. This second is a book by a woman
who wants to satirize middling to upper class society as
mercenary, false prestige-ridden, and
self-satisfied.
Ellen Moody
To Austen-l
June 25, 1998
Re: Burney: Cecilia, I:II:3: The Rawlins
I am really fascinated by these sections in this book
where people from the lower orders suddenly appear
in vivid life and we hear their view of reality. Jill brings
up Vanity Fair where we see a similar situation,
and Thackeray does introduce and explain how Becky
Sharp and her husband, Rawdon Crawley, fleece and
ruin the man, but even here the landlord-servant
is kept at a distance.
I wonder if any other novelist of the later 18th century
showed us these people. I know some of the radicals
did in their novels (Godwin in Caleb Williams -- which
maybe our subgroup ought someday to try together--it's
great), but then it is always couched in a radical
rhetoric and presented so as to urge the reader to
"change" society and is often written in grand and
generalized terms. To see this man who needs and
wants his money in a context where the money is
not despised or disdained nor the values of the
society is real.
Jill writes:
Cecilia doesn't notice it, and one wonders if what is going
to happen is the Harrels begin to try to drain her dry. There
was some hint on the part of Mrs Harrel--who is not as
innocent as her words might lead one to think.
Then Jill writes:
I saw this as partly a plot-device. It played up Mrs
Harrel's behavior. It is also an aspect of Cecilia's innocence.
Like Evelina, she is "entering the world," but her education
is considerably more sophisticated because she sees
so much more of what is happening around her. Finally,
it is true that sometimes we are startled by the behavior
of those we thought our friends and therefore like us.
Any comments anyone else on these characters from
below the level of the upper gentry in Burney? Their
presence in Burney makes me aware of how much
of her world Austen omits. Austen must have seen
dunning scenes; she probably saw the working
people of her world intimidated, bullied, fleeced,
manipulated, used. She lived in lodgings run
by non-gentry. But never once does any of
this appear. I'd like to comment I have never seen
it in the 18th century French novels of the 18th
century; one must wait until after the revolution
to read of this. Good for Burney.
Ellen Moody
Subject: Burney: Cecilia, I:II:3: The Rawlins In a message dated 6/25/98 07:15:41 AM, Ellen Moody wrote:
Something else that strikes me about Burney's handling of this subject, is how
she never was condescending, always sympathetic (unless the person was not
deserving of sympathy; more of which we will see later). No happy contented
serfs here, no Mammy singing spirituals, no 'umble servants.
Jill Spriggs
Re: Cecilia, I:II:3 & S&S & Emma: Masquerades
In reading the masquerade I found myself thinking
about Tanner's comments on S&S that most people
don't know those they are sitting next to, and how
in life we mask ourselves from one another. Most of
us do this unconsciously, or as part of a general
scheme of tact, kindliness, decorum, and simply
getting along; it is the rare person who deliberately
puts on a mask to hide malice or other vicious
behaviors. Burney's masquerade is meant to
heighten the realities of the people in the book;
instead of being hidden, they come out more strongly;
since Cecilia sees through the masks of everyone,
she also suggests that we can see through masks.
Here I think Austen would differ. I always think of
how Knightley asks Emma if she really wants to
know what is in other people's minds, and Emma
quickly says, oh no. Austen probably is closer
to the truth: many people don't see through.
She would say they are fooled, though it is enigmatic
as to how far. I always think of how Miss Bates
says she does see what is in front of her.
Of course neither goes into the problem of what happens
when you see through the mask to the viciousness
behind it, and discover others don't care--or enjoy it so
unmasking it does no good, just brings forth
yet more lies and masks. This is part of the theme
of Les Liaisons Dangereuses taken over
from Clarissa. So LaClos is much
more radical in his view of human nature than Austen
or Burney.
One of the things most enjoyable about the chapter
is simply the costumes and heightened dialogue.
There's a strong theatrical element to it all.
I can't help think of Austen. Do people suppose she
never went to a masquerade? Was a clergyman's
daughter unlikely to do this? Was she too poor?
too genteel? herself too shy? Opinions anyone?
I think it a good plot device to keep from us who
the white domino is. He seems to be intelligent
and decent. Maybe we have our hero here?
I also thought Burney should have kept Monckton
masked as the devil yet more--or at least some
of the interest or tension decreased when once
I knew this harassing possessive devil was Monckton.
This was a surreal piece on sexual harassment
and a man's desire to possess a woman.
It is a brilliant stroke upon Burney's part to make
Morrice Harlequin. He is the entertainer who can
be got to do anything, the man who insists how
happy and gay he is, how he loves to serve
everyone, but has sorrows underneath if only
he would admit it. It was also brilliant of her
to make Floyer into a Turk who bullies Morrice
as Harlequin into amusing the company by
trying to jump across a table, and of course
knocking the table and all that's on it down,
and then the awning, so that all Rawlins's
work is destroyed.
Burney is continually exposing the absurdities of the life
of such a man as Morrice. She keeps coming
back to this. In the fiction, we don't
see what Morrice gets out of it; in real life
Burney père got his customers. I can only
think she comes back to it because it affected
her life: she was mortified, irritated, herself
drawn into such scenes; Mrs Thrale would
mock her father in a not so veiled way at all.
Burney did not as yet foresee what Harlequin
would eventually demand of her (take a place
at court). What we have not had in Cecilia
as yet is some counterforce. I keep waiting
for some kindly father figure in the mode of
Villars, but thus far we have none. Gosport
is an impersonal satirist, and Briggs himself
is savagely satirized for his miserliness.
The Belfield pieces seemed to me a bit overdone.
The description of his outfit as Don Quixote was
very good, very sharp, but the exchange of
letters while probably funny to readers of overblown
romances in the period failed to amuse me at least.
Miss Larolles as Minerva was also very amusing,
and of course once she opens her mouth and
begins to talk we know it's her. I liked all the
times she appeared; I suppose Austen must
have too (e.g, "I was monstrous sorry...", 1988 Oxford
Cecilia, edd MADoody and PSabor, pp. 110ff).
I liked the dialogues, which, as in Evelina, were
true to life. Burney is not a hypocrite; she tells
us how at first Cecilia is fascinated and intensely
entertained by
Having the cheerful Mr Briggs with his wry good humor
next to her as a chimney sweep gave the scene a
cheerful kind of flavor. Mr Gosport's saturnine disposition
gave us the Johnsonian morals. Of course Monckton's
curiously threatening presence and the growing relationship
with the mysterious white domino gave the scene its
plot line. The climax with Morrice-Harlequin again
making an idiot of himself, a spectacle, ironically
destroying Mr Rawlins's work was also strong.
Finally when we got a real chimney sweep come into the
room and everyone in the room was appalled, horrified,
to see this poverty-striken, sick, and miserable human
being it brought us back to the opener where we saw
Rawlins demand his money. I thought the long description
of a real chimney sweep very effective. Again, nothing
like this in Austen at all.
When I came to the end of these three chapters I understood
why Burney was so respected and thought a genius, and
why this book was read across England and France. There
is a review by La Clos written just before he publshed Les
Liaisons Dangereuses in which he can't praise Cecilia
enough, and there have been critical pieces showing how
Burney influenced La Clos's masterpiece.
Ellen Moody
Re: Which Men in Burney's Life are Behind the Masks in Cecilia?
At 09:53 PM 6/24/98 EDT, Jill L. Spriggs wrote:
This chapter could be read on so many levels. Much time could be spent here.
Jill Spriggs In Morrice we have
a face of Charles Burney; in Mr Gosport we have the face Johnson presented
to the public in his journalism. But these faces beneath the masks
could be seen before. Probably--as with Austen--the more we know about
Burney's private life the more we could make connections. One problem
is Burney knew so many people and came into contact with many more.
She might write of someone she met just once, but someone who made a
strong impression on her. Mr Briggs strikes me as allegorical, but
Delville could easily be real; certainly the Harrels are believable.
Like Austen Burney had many brothers and sisters and they all married,
and had children too.
It is curious how she concentrates on men. Here we have Cecilia in
her ordinary dress, and while Miss Larolles makes her appearances,
it is men who surround Cecilia, men who seek to control her and who
fascinate her. She gives herself no less than 4 fathers: the original
Dean or guardian who has died, Briggs, Delville, and Harrel (not much
of a father figure). Then we are going to have her fall in love with
a male and husbands were encouraged to be masters in their homes.
Wives were to obey. Husbands had the purse strings. When I think
of Austen, it seems to me she concentrates much more on women; they
seem to dominate scenes and control or make the lives of
the heroines miserable--or try to. Also Radcliffe's men are enigmatic
and at a distance; alluring sexy and fearful types or kindly fathers
and impeccably loving men. The stronger presences are women.
Ellen Moody
To Austen-l
July 1, 1998
Re: Burney: Cecilia: The Masquerade: The White Domino and Darcy;
Monckton and Montoni; More Parallels between Burney's and other novelist's heroes
This is written in response to Aysin's posting on the above chapters.
Your comparison of the white domino to Darcy is inspired, because
by now you must know the white domino is the young Delville. In my
posting on this week's chapters I said some of his conversation
reminded me of Henry Tilney, but as I remember (vaguely) what's
to come and that pride, a saturnine point of view, an austere virtue,
and awkwardnesses and misunderstandings of all sorts come
between Cecilia and Delville, we could see Delville as a real
precursor to Darcy. Lord Orville looks back to Sir Charles Grandison,
Delville forward to Darcy. I don't know how it works in but have
read again and again how some paragraph late in the book tells
us Cecilia's miseries were all the result of PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
so maybe we should watch for analogies between the couples.
I also like the analogy of Monckton with Montoni--and Radcliffe's
other villains. In fact Radcliffe's is the simplistic or young girl's
dream-figure. Austen tells us the reality is General Tilney, but
in doing so she robs the figure of his sexual aspects, the
threat, the desire of the dark villain to possess the maiden
in his moated castle. By having a Monckton who is presented
as a real type of the time--and allowing him sensible language
and behavior--Burney gives the figure an adult reality and
keeps the sex.
Many of the characters' lines (like Briggs's or Miss Larolles's)
resonate into gnomic statements and epigrams. It's part of
the poetry of the book. She probably hoped we would dwell
on lines--that's the way Johnson's prose works. I do agree
one problem is too many characters are thrown at us at
once. The masquerade becomes a game, a kind of puzzle.
Don Quixote was Belfield, and I suppose in that the
disguise looks forward to the duel which Belfield loses.
The "real" Don in Cervantes's book is always getting
wounded--and sometimes badly.
Aysin asks how others read the following line:
I take it to mean only those three people seems to realize that more
is needed to hide or change oneself than mere outward costume.
We can see through the costumes to recognize who is underneath.
Of course Burney has chosen costumes which actually highlight
aspects of her character's personalities. But this is another
level of the text. As you say Aysin, dress is not enough.
Aysin asks me what I meant when I wrote:
I was referring to the use of the Turk costume to signify
the macho male bully. In the next chapter we find Floyer
starts a quarrel and duels with Belfield, and is willing
to murder him. Turks were used as highly romantic
figures of macho males in Byron's poems; they were
seen as strong sexy males who enslaved Christians
and the typical Byronic female virgin. Since Morrice is
such a sycophant, it is appropriate that he allow this
macho bully male to push him into jumping across
the table. By jumping across the table and ruining
the awning, Morrice loses all the "chits" he was
trying to build up with the Harrels.
Finally in response to Nancy earlier this week: the domino
costume in the late 18th century masquerades functioned
like the witch's costume in Halloween parties today. They
were regarded as safe: not too sexy, easy to wear, no
special connotation. Most oftent they were black. I have
seen a number of productions of Don Giovanni where
Anna, her swain, and Elvira follow the Don about in
black domino costumes.
Ellen Moody
From: werner liebl
To: emoody@osf1.gmu.edu
Subject: Opera rehearsals of the rich and famous
Reply-To: Jane Austen List
From: "Jill L. Spriggs"
Subject: Cecilia, V. I, B. II, Chapters I & 2
Subject: _Cecilia_, V. I, B. II, Ch. III: A Masquerade
To: AUSTEN-L@VM1.MCGILL.CA
" ' Did your late uncle, ' said the white domino, in a low voice to Cecilia, '
chuse for two of your guardians, Mr. Harrel and Mr. Briggs, to give you an
early lesson upon the opposite errors of profusion and meanness?'
" He then again held out his hand, but Cecilia, pointing to the fiend,
answered, 'How can I come, sir?'
' No, ' answered he, pointing to the room in which was erected the new
gallery, and whence, as he spoke, issued the sound of a hautboy, ' there is a
flute playing there already.'
Subject: Who is really being masked?
To: AUSTEN-L@VM1.MCGILL.CA
Reply-To: Jane Austen List
From: Aysin Dedekorkut
Subject: Cecilia: A Masquerade
"Take care of sharpers; don't trust shoe-buckles, nothing but Bristol
stones! tricks in all things. A fine gentleman sharp as another man. Never
give your heart to a gold-topped cane, nothing but brass gilt over. Cheats
everywhere: fleece you in a year; won't leave you a groat." (V.1, Book II,
Chapter 1)
In Cecilia's initial meeting with Miss Larolles, we first see the acidic humor
of which Cecilia is capable, and makes her a more palatable heroine to me than
the self effacing Evelina
Miss Larolles:"A young lady of my particular acquaintance, by the geratest
luck in the world happened to be taken suddenly ill; so she sent me her
ticket,- was not that delightful?"
"For her, exteremely" said Cecilia, laughing.
...
One problem with Cecilia is the voices are not differentiated;
I find this curious because Burney did this, perhaps instinctively
in the epistolary Evelina. She did not carry this personating
over--as perhaps Austen did. One might say the six novels
come out of the juvenilia through a process of subtilizing what
is there writ large and through caricature.
"I have seen only three who have seemed conscious that any change but that
of dress was necessary to disguise them."
It was also brilliant of her
to make Floyer into a Turk who bullies Morrice
as Harlequin into amusing the company by
trying to jump across a table,
I also don't understand why Cecilia says in answer to the white domino's
question of "You told me you knew him, - has he any right to follow you?"
"If he thinks he has, this is no time to dispute it."
Are we talking about Domino the game here?
"Her next solicitude was to furnish herself with
a well-chosen collection of books; and this employment,
which to a lover of literature, young and ardent in its
pursuit, is perhaps the mind's first luxury....
"And thus, in the exercise of charity, the search
of knowledge, and the enjoyment of quiet, serenely in
innocent philosophy passed the hours of Cecilia" (1988
Oxford Cecilia, ed. MADoody, PSabor, p. 103).
he drew a chair near her,and twinkling his little
black eyes in her face, his rage subsided into the most
perfect good humour; and, after peering at her some time
with a look of much approbation, he said, with an arch
nod, 'Well, my duck, got ever a sweet-heart yet?'"
(1988 Oxford Cecilia, edd MADoody & PSabor, p. 95)
"[Mr Harrel] was importuned, not by the starving wife of a
carpenter who knew he might not be paid when he took the
job, but a larger fish, the owner of an awning business who
insisted that, as he had to pay his own expenses, so he
must be paid. A dangerous precedent had been set. Mr.
Arnott, to please Cecilia, had paid the poor Hills, but now
when pressed by Mr. Rawlins, Mr. Arnott was immediately
turned to for assistance. If not checked, Mr. Harrel would
unhesitatingly drain Mr. Arnott dry, a fact Cecilia would have
done well to notice."
"Why Priscilla's insensitivity to the dunning Rawlins should
startle Cecilia, I do not know. She had already abundant
evidence of Mrs. Harrel's willful disregard for the Impending
destruction of their very frail lifestyle."
To: AUSTEN-L@VM1.MCGILL.CA
I am really fascinated by these sections in this book
where people from the lower orders suddenly appear
in vivid life and we hear their view of reality.
"the variety of dresses, the medley
of characters, the quick succession of figures, and
the ludicrous mixture of groups... the conceited
efforts at wit, the total thoughtlessness of consistency,
and the ridiculous incongruity of the language with
the appearance, were incitements to surprise
and diversion without end. Even the local cant of
Do you know me? Who are you? and I want
to know you; with the sly pointing of the finger,
the arch nod of the head, and the pert squeak
of hte voice, though wearisome to those who
frequent much assemblies, were to her unhabkceyed
observation, additional subjects of amusement"
(p. 106).
In this fascinating chapter (I:II:3) on the masquerade, I found myself wondering if
some of the men in Burney's life could be behind those masques. Could that be >her father or
Samuel Crisp in the devil's suit, warding off all who might >cause a diminution of their power?
How about Samuel Johnson as the school master; clever, erudite, witty conversationalist? Or
the desired but unknown lover of her future, the amorphous, blank domino (also a fellow lover of
music!).
"I have seen only three who have seemed conscious that any change but that
of dress was necessary to disguise them."
"It was also brilliant of her to make Floyer into a Turk who
bullies Morrice as Harlequin into amusing the company by
trying to jump across a table..."
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