To Austen-l
From: "Jill L. Spriggs" From an earlier thread:
I did not mean to suggest that Priscilla was not physically fearful of her
husband. And Cecilia did accept later that Priscilla believed her husband
when he told her Cecilia was playing a coquette's game. I found Mrs. Harrel's
excesses hard to swallow, especially when she was guilt tripping Cecilia for
all she was worth. That comment especially, " ' ... rich, -- rolling in
wealth which you do not want, -- of which had we but one year's income only,
all this misery would be over, and we might stay in our dear, dear country!' "
I find this diatribe outrageous, and hardly fair when Cecilia had already
almost drained her personal fortune dry to give her husband a few more runs
at the gaming table. I don't like Priscilla; she bears an uncomfortable
resemblance to some twenty something women I know. Her sense of entitlement
to the money of someone she did not even like anymore I find inexplicable.
And remember that when her husband did succeed in obtaining for that 3,000
pounds which was to make " all their misery be over", he was only pounding a
final nail in his own coffin.
As the book progresses, we will find more of what Monckton is capable of. I
agree with Ellen that physical violence could not be ruled out.
Jill Spriggs
Re: Burney: Cecilia: Priscilla very irritating
To Jill and Burney friends,
Yes I agree Priscilla is irritating, and if she is afraid -- which is
what I was basically arguing for -- she also uses that fear as a weapon
with which to manipulate Cecilia. Shortly before Harrel blows his
brains out, he says she never felt anything for him. Now we are given
no sense he ever felt anything for her, but somehow in the closing
scenes he seems capable of understanding he ought to have done
better and how mean and stupid his life has been. On the other
hand, it reminds me of one of those comments from Gone With the
Wind by Rhett Butler that have stayed with me over the years. He
says to Scarlet, she's not unhappy that she committed the crime,
but she's terribly terribly sorry she's going to jail. That's
Harrel. In his last moments he's swilling champagne for all he's
worth, and his papers show what the man was. It's in the comparison
with Priscilla he comes off well. He goes down with all flags
flying; she goes down whining and trying to pull Cecilia into
the waters with her to get a few more moments of what we would
call the unexamined existence.
I'd like to bring Austen in here. Often on this list we get into
arguments or debates because some people seem to dislike the female
Austen chooses as her heroine, and like the female Austen makes
anti-heroine. Candid people can disagree because no heroine is
perfect, and no anti-heroine is without her merits. (I'll except
Isabella Thorpe from that, though even she can be sympathised with
when one remembers Captain Tilney and her sisters.) Burney creates
in Priscilla someone very few of us could easily endure. Is there
anyone who would defend her? It's hard, for even on the basis
that she was not educated to support herself, she need not have
spent like a queen what she never earned.
Ellen Moody
From: "Jill L. Spriggs" Since Mrs. Delvile was not expected until later that day, Cecilia decided to
visit her friend Henrietta Belfield. Cecilia wanted to see her before she
left town with the Delviles, and " ... whatever her doubts about Mortimer, of
her [Henrietta] she had none". As Cecilia passed the windows in the front of
Henrietta's home, she glimpsed her friend holding a letter and kissing it.
Cecilia uneasily suspected the letter was from Mortimer, a suspicion which
seemed to be confirmed by Henrietta's hastily hiding it in her pocket upon the
entrance of her friend.
Henrietta seemed to be under the mistaken impression that Cecilia was
homeless, due to the events of two evenings previous. Cecilia hastened to
reassure her, and the two busily exchanged mutual pledges of regard. Cecilia
was strongly tempted to try to abstract the secret of Henrietta's love, but
was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Belfield. Of course the good dame
could let no opportunity lapse of trying to further the match of her son to
the heiress, but before Cecilia could slip out, in came the two creditors of
the evening of Harrel's suicide. She was taking Henrietta's hand in farewell,
when she was arrested by Mr. Hobson's relating his visit to Portman-square.
Both Hobson and Simkens had to moan a little about their lost money. Cecilia
asked if anything would be left for Mrs. Harrel, but since she (Priscilla)
evidently had treated them with scorn, she did not receive much of their
sympathy. " ' ... what have we creditors to have with a man's family?
Suppose I am a cabinet maker? When I send in my chairs, do I ask who is to
sit upon them? No; it's all one to me whether it's the gentleman's progeny
or his friends, I must be paid for the chairs the same, use them who may.
That's the law, ma'am, and no man need be ashamed to abide by it.' "
Realizing that she would not be able to mollify their indignation, she ordered
her chair.
Mrs. Belfield was dismayed that Cecilia was preparing to escape without
getting an earful from her, and urged her to stay, or return, "to drink a dish
of tea". Cecilia told her that she was leaving town the next day. Henrietta
followed her to her chair, but no confidences were to exchanged by the friends
that day. Cecilia was also pursued by Mrs. Belfield loudly deploring the
absence of her son, and by Simkens and Hobson, each trying to get his own
voice heard.
As Cecilia reached St. James-square, she mulled over the significance of the
letter she had seen Henrietta caressing " 'And if such,' cried she, ' is the
depravity of this accomplished hypocrite, if such is the littleness of soul
that a manner so noble disguises, shall he next, urged, perhaps, rather by
prudence than preference, make me the object of his pursuit, and the food of
his vain-glory? And shall I, warned and instructed as I am, be as easy a
prey, and as wretched a dupe? No, I will be better satisfied with his
conduct, before I venture to trust him, and since I am richer than Henrietta
and less likely to be deserted, when won, I will be more on my guard to know
why I am addressed, and vindicate the rights of innocence, if I find she has
been thus deluded, by forgetting his talents in his treachery, and renouncing
him for ever!"
Cecilia's moments of righteous indignation flame out all too soon. A few
words, a passionate glance from Mortimer, and she forgets all her virtuous
intentions.
That morning's events had considerably dampened her ardor to reside in the
home of Mortimer. At least she saw none of him that day.
After dinner, Mr. Delvile told Cecilia that two suitors had called during the
day, each claiming to have the endorsement of her late guardian. Cecilia told
Mr. Delvile that both the unfortunate men had been ill treated by Mr. Harrel,
and that she had never given either the slightest encouragement. She
requested that Mr. Delvile make her disinclination for a match with either of
them, clear.
Mr. Delvile then asked if she had chosen another person to take the place of
Mr. Harrel as her guardian. Cecilia responded that she planned not to, unless
absolutely necessary. Mrs. Delvile made an uncomfortable observation; " ' I
believe your affairs will not much miss him! Since I have heard of the excess
of his extravagance, I have extremely rejoiced in the uncommon prudence and
sagacity of his fair ward, who, in such dangerous hands, with less penetration
and sound sense, might have been defrauded of half her fortune.' "
Cecilia reconsidered the confession she had planned to make. She was afraid
sympathy would not be found there.
Jill Spriggs
August 17, 1998
Re: Burney: Cecilia:III:VI:1, More than One Debate
Reading over Jill's posting I realised we have several debates in this
chapter.
First, there is the funny Dickensian one of three clowns whom Burney
uses to send up the middling sort of people who have probably not
changed all that much. Another element in the Dickensian speeches
Austen and Burney pour out is the transparency of the speaker's
motives. The speaker professes to care about one thing more than
any other (Mr Parker the health of all the world and the salubrity of his spa;
Mrs Belfield her anxiety for her son's happiness and that of the
young Miss; Hobson and Simkins fairness). What they care about
is money and position. The joke is the concern such people have
with details. The world is filled with people who really care about
which TV they own, what kind of couch. Yet who can gainsay their
form of wisdom:
The second debate is a silent one over Cecilia. Who shall get
the control of her person and money? What Cecilia seems
to forget is she has given away a large portion of her money.
We are told she did this before she was twenty-one so it
won't stand up in court, but I wonder if this is wholly true. Cecilia seems not to
understand that all the fawning before her is the result of everyone
feeling confident she is a fantastically rich heiress. But we know she
has signed an IOU to Monckton for nearly the amount of her inheritance
from one of her sources.
At the conclusion of the chapter, we are told she couldn't get herself
to tell the Delviles about how she had been fleeced of over £9000
because she was morally wrong to do it (p. 451); I think we the readers are
supposed to know that were she to tell the mother and father
would cease being so polite and Hobson, Simkins, and Mrs
Belfield would turn away from her.
This is a lesson I think Cecilia will learn the hard way.
A final debate is that within Cecilia over whether to try to find out
what is in the letter Henrietta hides. Burney uses letters in the
way Austen does: they forward the plot, reveal characters, are
ironic. But since the text is not an imitation of the psychology
of the writer in natural easy English which had become the mode
since Clarissa but harks back to the kind of extravagant
rhetoric one finds in letter-fictions of the latter 17th and
early 18th century, Burney's use of letters does not come off
with the intense interest Austen's -- or other letter-writers of
the later 18th century do. It's curious that in this Burney is
such a throw-back. Why does she not write letters to
reveal the workings of a man through natural English? She
read the novels of her period. There was Rousseau,
Madame Riccoboni, so many in English too.
She wrote and read letters
herself. Curious. Any suggestions anyone?
Ellen Moody
Subject: Cecilia, Vol. III, Bk. VI, Ch. II, A Railing Mortimer was up and gone by the time Cecilia arose the next day, a fact which
she did not regret.
As Cecilia and the Delviles were preparing to depart, who should arrive, but
the other remaining guardian, and he was angry. As Ellen had already noted,
the remaining guardians would each like to enjoy a portion of Cecilia's
allowance, even though Mr. Delvile would never admit it. Mr. Briggs had
relished the idea of the share of Cecilia's allowance that would be his if she
lived with him, and he was furious that the bird was preparing to fly the
coop. Cecilia had not notified him that she had decided against residing with
him, and he had laid in sumptuous (for him) provisions, which all were spoiled
from the warm weather. The Delviles were watching the unexpected guest with
astonishment, contempt (Mr. Delvile) and humor (Mrs. Delvile). Cecilia tried
to tell him that they were at that moment preparing to leave, but Mr. Briggs
was determined to put up a fight for his guest. " ' ... come for you myself;
take you to my own house. Got every thing ready, been to the broker's, bought
a nice blanket, hardly a brack in it. Pick up a table soon; one in my eye.'
" When Cecilia tried to correct his mistaken impression, he insulted the
second to the last of the Delviles: " ' Won't consent, won't consent! what
will you go there for? hear of nothing but dead dukes; as well visit an old
tomb.' "
Mr. Briggs teased and tormented Mr. Delvile for some minutes, but at last they
escaped, pursued by noisy lamentations; " He followed them to the coach, with
bitter revilings that every body was to make more of his ward than himself,
and with the most virulent complaints of his losses from the blanket, the
breast of mutton, the crabs and the lobster!"
The atmosphere in the coach enroute to the castle was less than cordial.
Jill Spriggs
To Austen-l
From: "Jill L. Spriggs" Far in the misty past I seem to remember, in Great Expectations, a clerk
young Pip had befriended named Wemick (was that it?) who had altered his home
so it resembled a miniature castle, complete with moat, drawbridge, and
cannon. Wemick was so very proud of his little domain, and his pride reminds
me of the pride Mr. Delvile so obviously felt in his.
Remember how disappointed Cecilia was when her intention of haughtily refusing
a proposed alliance between her and Mortimer, was foiled when it became
obvious that Mr. Delvile had no such intention? Once again she was cheated of
the opportunity to show her disapprobation of the young Delvile, by his
consistently absenting himself from her presence, and, when with her, " ...
his conversation was always general, and his attention not more engaged by
Cecilia than by his mother." Damn! Balked again!
Mortimer, " ... far from manifesting any design of conquest, shunned all
occasions of gallantry, and sedulously avoided even common conversation with
her." At first Cecilia was surprised, then her pride rescued her, and she
returned cold shoulder for cold shoulder. For all her anger, however, " ...
she found some consolation in seeing that those mercenary views of which she
had once been led to accuse him, were farthest from his thoughts."
In an effort to push her stillborn romance from her mind, Cecilia busied
herself with " ... walking and reading, she commissioned Mr. Monckton to send
her a Piano Forte of Merlin's, she was fond of fine work, and she found in the
conversation of Mrs. Delvile a never-failing resource against langour and
sadness." The Delviles had alienated all the neighboring gentry, so
nonfamilial society was not to be had. Mrs. Delvile, whose unhappiness was
endemic, dating from her early marriage to a man she knew not, and after she
knew him, could not esteem. "Ardent in her disposition, and naturally violent
in her passions, her feelings were extremely acute, and to curb them by reason
and principle had been the chief and hard study of her life. The effort had
calmed, but had not made her happy." Into this desolate life came the son any
mother could have dreamed of, and she loved him with all the pent up emotion
she possessed. Mr. Delvile, senior, was filled with pride at this heir he had
begotten, and " ... consulted him in all his affairs, never mentioned him but
with distinction, and expected the whole world to bow down before him."
Mortimer, whose disposition more closely resembled his mother's than his
father's , " ... opposed him in nothing when his pleasure was known, but ...
forbore to enquire into his opinion except in cases of necessity." I think it
amazing that this man was as universally esteemed as he was; with his
upbringing, one would expect him to be spoiled rotten.
Cecilia had been at the ancestral seat of the Delviles for three weeks, not
seeing anyone outside of the family except at church. The monotony was
briefly lifted by a letter from Priscilla Harrel, which was, as might be
expected, filled with self pitying whining. A more selfless letter came from
Mr. Arnott, who related events leading up to the funeral, including an
abduction of the body by the creditors. Mr. Arnott wrote sadly that all peace
was behind him, since he had been deprived of the happiness of being able to
see Cecilia. Cecilia wrote to Priscilla, promising to bring her to her own
home in Suffolk when she could (why she would want such an ungratifying guest
is beyond me), and to Mr. Arnott, in kindness trying to discourage any hopes
he might have of her.
Things would shortly be livened up by a feminine visitor, who at least would
not be boring.
Jill Spriggs
Re: Burney, Cecilia, III:3:5: A Gothic Place and Lonely Woman
There are a number of striking elements in this chapter: the gothic like mansion,
the loneliness and isolation of the family, and Mrs Delvile's desolate marriage
For the first what's remarkable is how nearly realistic Burney is; the house
is only shaped with various kinds of things which make it visibly a gothic
castle. In fact many Elizabethan/Jacobean piles of stone would have given
this impression in the 18th century. There were no macadamised roads;
no communication beyond letters and the use of coaches and horses.
Reading through one feels Eva Figes's main thesis is demonstrated:
the ruined gothic castles of the overtly gothic are simply dream or nightmare
variations on how many an upper class woman might have felt at times.
Of course this leaves out the life of the house, the servants, the children.
We are talking of the world of their imagination and not moment-by-moment
real life.
This of course is created by the isolation of the family. But while Austen
presents us with three or four families who are in constant communication
whether they detest one another or not, Burney doesn't. Probably the
truth is somewhere inbetween.
I was most struck by Mrs Delvile who married for money. Marriage as
a sheer business arrangement in which the inner lives of the people
involved doesn't count -- supposedly. Of course it does and each
of Austen's novels is written against this notion and for companionate
affectionate marriage; at the same time each of them shows us women
who have anything but, as do so many Victorian novels. I suggested
that in an earlier scene Mr Delvile recalled Sir Walter Elliot; well,
Mrs Delvile is Anne's mother, Elizabeth, Lady Elliot (nee Stevenson)
and perhaps, given the picture of Northanger Abbey and the
General's stern hard presence, Mrs Tilney, mother to Henry and
Eleanor. I don't mind quoting the passage again:
Is not this a Johnsonian style summary of what we learn to have been
the truth of Lady Elliot and Mrs Tilney's lives? Mrs Delvile also takes
her chief solace in her love of the child who is congenial to her. The
description of Mrs Delvile's reliance on Mortimer Delvile reminded
me of how Eleanor Tilney has come to value her brother, Henry,
and how Henry knows Eleanor needs him and how Eleanor's high
opinion of him is something he values and lives up to:
This could also describe how Catherine comes to love Henry Tilney.
She has by the end of the novel the strongest assurances of his
worth too.
I thought Burney also pulled off the presentation of Delvile and Cecilia
as themselves keeping away from one another, wary, unsure, Delvile
with some secret, and Cecilia, with her suspicions, very well.
It seems to me there is no novel in the period I have read thus far
which has given me more sense of the context within which Austen
wrote her novels than this one of Cecilia.
Ellen Moody
Date: Wed, 19 Aug 1998 One friend of mine calls me and asks me to visit whenever her mother (or
mother-in-law, or father-in-law, or sister; she has a very difficult family)
is in town. My presence insures good behavior on the part of the rels, and
deflects too close scrutiny of the beleaguered hosts. Mrs. Delvile must have
felt some relief from the presence of her rattle relative Lady Honoria when
she came for a four week visit, thanks to Cecilia. And, for all her rather
self righteous attitude about the flibbertigibbet, I think Cecilia was
entertained (if also exhausted) in spite of herself.
I enjoyed Burney's rather tart comment about the status of ladies' education
in the late 18th century; "Lady Honoria had received a fashionable education,
in which her proficiency had been equal to what fashion made requisite; she
sung a little, played the harpsichord a little, painted a little, worked a
little, and danced a great deal." The study of her life was to create
astonishment with her prattle, rather like some middle to late adolescents of
our time. If the hearer is an avid gardener, the youth will recommend the
cementing over of all public gardens as the measure best suited to the general
good. If the listener is a dedicated skier, the young person pronounces that
only pot bellied geezers ski; snowboarding is where it's at. Lady Honoria
had fertile ground for her recreation; her greatest pleasure lay in shocking
and appalling the very staid Lady Delvile and Cecilia. I suspect she would
find a kindred spirit in our own Scottie. Especially since Lady Honoria was
described by Burney as " ... a character of so much levity with so little
heart..." Some of her complaints about the Delvile household sound as if they
could have been penned by SB about our own Austen-L: " ' ... I vow I have
sometimes such difficulty to keep awake, that I am frightened to death lest I
should be taken with a sudden nap, and affront them all.' "
When Lady Honoria was about to expire of boredom, in spite of the fun of
baiting Cecilia and Lady Delvile (as challenging as taking candy from a baby),
she gleefully brought Cecilia the news that their party was about to be
increased through the addition of Lord Ernolf and his son Lord Derford. The
increased potential for fun Lady Honoria found very stimulating; " ' We can
ask him [Lord Derford] ... for a little news, and that will put Mrs. Delvile
in a passion, which will give us a little spirit. ... he knows nothing in the
world of what's going forward. And, indeed, that's no great matter, for if he
did, he would not know how to tell it, he's so excessively silly. However, I
shall ask him all sorts of things, for the less he can answer, the more it
will plague him, and I like to plague a fool amazingly, because he can never
plague one again.' "
Sounds like lots of fun.
Lady Honoria, in looking for a spouse, thought a fool to be preferred for a
husband; " ' ... you might have done exactly what you pleased with him,
which, all together, would have been no inconvenient circumstance.' " Cecilia
preferred someone she could learn from, to someone she would need to teach.
Lady Honoria thought that a bunch of bull; " ' ... one has enough to do with
tutors before hand, and the best thing I know of marrying is to get rid of
them. I fancy you think so, too, only it's a pretty speech to make.' " Lady
Honoria also deplored Lady Delvile's distaste for gossip; " ' Mrs. Delvile
will hardly let it be repeated, for fear it should happen to be untrue, as if
that could possibly signify!' "
The dispirited mood of Mortimer was commented upon by the irrepressible
Honoria, contrasting his manner to the one he displayed the summer before,
' Would I?' said Cecilia, with a conscious smile." Lady Honoria may have been flighty, but she was no fool. She noticed
Cecilia's expression when she mentioned that her sister, Euphrasia, might
marry Mortimer.
' Me? no, indeed!'
' You look very guilty, though,' cried she, laughing, ' and indeed when you
came hither, every body said that the whole affair was arranged.'
' For shame, Lady Honoria,' said Cecilia, again changing colour, 'I am sure
this must be your own fancy, -- invention -- '
'No, I assure you; I heard it at several places; and every body said how
charmingly you fortune would build up all these old fortifications: but some
people said they knew Mr. Harrel had sold you to Mr. Marriot, and that if you
married Mortimer, there would be a law-suit that would take away half your
estate; and others said you had promised your hand to Sir Robert Floyer, and
repented when you heard of his mortgages, and he gave it out every where that
he would fight any man that pretended to you; and then again some said that
you were all the time privately married to Mr. Arnott, but did not dare own
it, because he was so afraid of fighting with Sir Robert.' " Cecilia was predictably appalled that she had been the focus of so much
gossip, but being a resident of a small town, I find the general knowledge of
her business not at all surprising.
Cecilia found out more of Lady Honoria's younger sister, Euphrasia, who was
being considered as a prospective wife for Mortimer. She was two years
younger than Lady Honoria and apparently the favorite of their grandmother,
who planned to leave Euphrasia her estate. She had met Mortimer once, and did
not like him: " ' ... she thought him too gay.' "
Cecilia had some food for thought as she dressed for dinner. She was unsure
how much of what Lady Honoria told her was baseless, but she was more
concerned about her own self betrayal. And what would this blabbermouth do
with the knowledge?
Lady Delvile asked Cecilia if she had learned of the coming visitors from Lady
Honoria. Cecilia agreed, then expressed a hope that they were not coming with
hopes of her reconsidering Lord Derford's proposal of marriage. Lady Delvile
told her that it was common knowledge that Mr. Harrel had prevented Cecilia
from receiving prospective bridegrooms. She asked Cecilia if she had yet met
" ' .. of the many admirers who have graced your train, which there is you
have distinguished with any intention of future preference?' " Cecilia told
her there was only one which, if her fortune had been smaller, would have
solicited her hand, and that the only one who would still gladly have her,
should her fortune be lost. She was speaking of Mr. Arnott, and deplored the
fact that she could not love him as a wife should her husband. Cecilia did
tell Lady Delvile that she was not telling her everything about the state of
her heart, but promised to never deceive her. Lady Delvile exclaimed, " ' ...
among the whole race of men, I scarce know one to whom I should think you
worthily cosigned!'
Cecilia wondered just who the "scarce" might encompass. Only with difficulty
did she restrain herself from telling her friend all; she feared appearing to
solicit Lady Delvile for her help.
A storm would reveal much to our heroine.
Jill Spriggs
Re: Burney: Cecilia:III:6:4: A Rattle
As I was reading I wondered if Lady Honoria was supposed to
be a female John Thorpe: she doesn't care if what she says
is the truth; she doesn't care if what she says contradicts
what was said before; she doesn't care if what she says hurts anyone;
she will say what comes into her mind in order to get attention;
she can do everything a little well (passably enough to fool
those who know nothing about the particular art), but she
can not do anything very well. A mess of medocrity,
Lady Honoria.
Ellen Moody
From: "Jill L. Spriggs" We are now half way through our book. Hard to believe?
One evening Cecilia and Lady Honoria took a stroll in the Park and were
enjoying themselves so much that they did not notice how far they had come
until they met Mortimer, who informed them that they were two miles distant
from home and then continued his walk. Lady Honoria was annoyed by his
unfriendliness, and after surmising that he must be in love, made a comment
that hit its mark; " 'I am sure that if he is, his Mistress has not much
occasion to be jealous of you or me, for never, I think, were two Damsels so
neglected!' "
Ouch!
Their musings upon the possibilities for Mortimer's matrimonial future were
interrupted by a sudden rain storm. Seeking shelter under a tree, they " ...
were joined by Delvile, who came to offer his assistance in hurrying them
home; and finding the thunder and lightening continue, begged them to move
on, in defiance of the rain, as their present situation exposed them to more
danger than a wet hat and cloak, which might be changed in a moment."
Apparently scientific studies were not part of Lady Honoria's fashionable
education, for she steadfastly refused to stir from the spot; "... she clung
to the tree, screamed at every flash of lightening ..." in spite of all
Cecilia's and Mortimer's pleas. Persuaded of her determination to remain
where she was, Mortimer then begged Cecilia to go home with his assistance.
He would then return for the silly one. At first Cecilia refused, feeling
that she should remain with her friend, but " ... the storm encreasing with
great violence, the thunder growing louder, and the lightning becoming
stronger, Delvile grew impatient even to anger at Lady Honoria's resistance,
and warmly expostulated upon its folly and danger." Her unreasoning fear made
her deaf to his arguments, and finally Mortimer successfully persuaded Cecilia
at least to seek shelter. A memorable exchange ensued;
' By no means,' cried she, ' my life is not more precious than either of
yours, and therefore it may run the same risk.'
' It is more precious, ' cried he with vehemence, ' than the air I breathe!'
and seizing her hand, he drew it under his arm, and, without waiting her
consent, almost forced her away with him, saying as they ran, ' How could a
thousand Lady Honorias recompence the world for the loss of one Miss Beverley?
we may, indeed, find many thousand such as Lady Honoria, but such as Miss
Beverley -- where shall we find another?'
Cecilia, surprised, yet gratified, could not speak, for the speed with which
they ran almost took away her breath; and before they were near home,
slackening her pace, and panting, she confessed her strength was exhausted,
and that she could go so fast no longer.
' Let us then stop and rest,' cried he, but why will you not lean upon me?
surely this is no time for scruples, and for idle and unnecessary scruples,
Miss Beverley can never find a time.'
Cecilia then, urged equally by shame at his speech and by weakness from
fatigue, leant upon his arm; but she soon repented her condescension; for
Delvile, with an emotion he seemed to find wholly irrepressible, passionately
exclaimed ' sweet lovely burthen! O why not thus forever!' " Pretty hot stuff.
Cecilia, of course was all offended dignity, and her " ... strength ... now
instantly restored," she walked on without assistance, Mortimer following with
broken apologies; ' " ... pardon me, Cecilia! -- Madam! -- Miss Beverley, I
mean --' "
Her aloofness was to be brief; they were then caught in " a violent shower of
hail". Mortimer caught up and urged her to stand under a tree where he could
shelter her by standing before her, taking the brunt of the wind. He, not
wanting to again offend her, took off his hat and held it before her without
touching her. Cecilia was touched, emotionally this time.
' What would I not do,' answered he, ' to obtain forgiveness from Miss
Beverley?'
' Well, well, -- pray put on your hat.'
' Do you command it?'
' No! certainly! -- but I wish it.'
' Ah!' cried he, instantly putting it on, ' whose are the commands that
would have half the weight with your wishes?'
And then, after another pause, he added, ' do you forgive me?'
Cecilia, ashamed of the cause of their dissension, and softened by the
seriousness of his manner, answered very readily, ' yes, yes, -- why will you
make me remember such nonsense?'
' All sweetness,' cried he warmly, and snatching her hand, ' is Miss
Beverley! -- O that I had the power -- that it were not utterly impossible --
that the cruelty of my situation --'
' I find,' cried she, greatly agitated, and forcibly drawing away her hand,
'you will teach me the folly of fearing bad weather!' " Apparently the only thing keeping Mortimer from proposing marriage to Cecilia
was something about his situation. Not a pre-engagement, I suspect, but the
pride of the family that never would contemplate giving up the all sacred name
for something as profane as money.
A servant approached bearing an umbrella, which Mortimer took to shelter
Cecilia, instructing the menial to go in search of Lady Honoria. Cecilia took
the umbrella from him and made her way without his assistance, in spite of the
fact that " ... the walk was so bad from the height of the grass, and the
unevenness of the ground, that Cecilia had the utmost difficulty to make her
way; yet she resolutely refused any assistance from Delvile, who walked
anxiously by her side, and seemed equally fearful upon his own account and
upon hers, to trust himself with being importunate."
Cecilia was pretty tired of a Delvile who was one moment, all ardent love, the
other, "most scrupulous reserve". She finally entered the castle through a
gate which Mortimer held open, and " .. in a tone of voice the most dejected,
he said, ' I am grieved to find you thus offended, but were it possible you
could know half the wretchedness of my heart, the generosity of your own would
make you regret this severity! ' "
The always compassionate Cecilia instantly relented, but since they were
surrounded by servants inquiring for the absent Lady Honoria, there was no
opportunity for peace making.
The stunned Cecilia was passively led to bed to drink "white wine whey". She
pondered the facts that, while it was now obvious that Mortimer " ... loved
her with tenderness, with fondness loved her ...", it was also apparent that
he had a " ... desire to conceal and to conquer it ... ". She wondered if the
clause in her uncle's will requiring the prospective husband to take her name
was the snag, or if there was some entanglement with Henrietta Belfield. She
felt that the most probable alternative was a marriage pending with Lady
Honoria's sister Euphrasia. Cecilia felt that Mrs. Delvile was her friend, and
would not act to prevent an alliance between Cecilia and her son, but the most
formidable obstacle would be the proud arrogant Mr. Delvile. No money would
sufficiently wash Cecilia from the stain of insufficiently noble birth, and
the loss of the 10,000 pounds would only confirm her unsuitability in his
mind.
Cecilia mused,
Well, it appears Cecilia had figured it all out. Her course? " ... to guard
her own secret with more assiduous care than ever, and since she found that
their union was by himself thought impossible, to keep from his knowledge that
the regret was not all his own."
Easier said than done. And there would be consequences for the evening just
spent. What usually happens in novels to someone suffering from amorous
frustration, who allows his/her feet to get wet?
Jill Spriggs
Re: Burney, Cecilia:III:6:5: The Storm
Again we have a scene which could have occurred in a Gothic
novel -- and probably does occur in one. The difference lies
in the realistic visibilia, a use of dialogue which is realistic
rather than inflated, and a perpetual attention to probability
with some comic moments thrown in now and again (especially
against Lady Honoria who it amuses me to think of standing
in the pouring rain hugging her tree).
Jill is right to point out the scene includes some "pretty hot
stuff". She leans on him; he grasps his sweet burthen.
It also includes a bit of of what the eagle-eyed Clarissa
Harlowe would recognize as typical male manipulation:
in grasping her, Delvile offended Cecilia; he backs away
but not before he removes his hat and refuses to put
it back on his head unless she first forgives him. Lovelace
is a past master at this game, except of course when
Lovelace offends he does things like remove Clarissa's
neckerchief (meaning he bares her breasts), and then
(if I remember correctly) he has way of continuing his
offenses until she forgives him. I suspect Burney
expected us to get this kind of manipulation. There
is only one hero in Austen who we are invited to
think plays this sort of game: Frank Churchill.
Again and again I think to myself how strong is the
content, the central visuals, the dialogues, and
the story line. I also think how much better the
book would have been could Burney have used
natural easy modern English. Her language
continually puts us at one remove when we begin
to get close to a character's mind or into a
scene; it is also often in the narrator's
portions stilted and indirect when
it should be sharp, simply, and direct.
Still I can understand how her contemporary audience
was strongly impressed by this book. It can not
be called a silly book even if the heroine is a
paragon and I at least as yet have not been
seriously worried about her. This scene is a good
example of how Burney misses an opportunity to
make us genuinely anxious for Cecilia. She's
just too self-aware, too much in control. Now
maybe what Burney had was too much pride
to reveal her own vulnerability through Cecilia
while of course Austen's own inner life was
poured into all her heroines.
Ellen Moody
Date: Fri, 21 Aug 1998 Cecilia had two days to think about how she would react to the events of the
day of the storm. She and Lady Honoria had caught colds; it seemed that hers
was less severe, thanks to the protective actions of her reluctant lover. The
entire group met at dinner, Mr. Delvile senior offering "stately
congratulations" on their recoveries, Mrs. Delvile quietly welcoming them.
Mortimer postponed his appearance as long as he could without exciting
comment, then immediately set to work carving the meat. He was ill at ease,
and "Cecilia was struck by the melancholy tone of his voice, and the moment
she raised her eyes, she observed that his countenance was equally sad."
(Oxford ed, MADoody and PSabor, Cecilia, p 478) Mr. Delvile noticed
Mortimer's lack of spirits, and urged him to seek medical advice. Mortimer
made a response that essentially meant that physicians had no cure for what
ailed him. Lady Honoria humorously thanked Mortimer for the assistance he
gave her when they were caught in the storm, and he tried to respond in kind,
by praising her courage in braving the storm under a tree. Mr. and Mrs.
Delvile were shocked when they realized that Mortimer had deserted Lady
Honoria, but Mrs. Delvile was reassured when Lady Honoria told her of her
refusal to leave; " ' ... he wanted to persuade me that in the open air I
should be less exposed to danger than under the shelter of a thick tree!' "
(p. 479) Mrs. Delvile mockingly offered the use of a collection of childish
science books for her education, but of course that went right over Lady
Honoria's head. To deflect Mrs. Delvile's sarcasm, Lady Honoria commented
that she thought Delvile was trying to find a reason to be alone with Cecilia.
Mrs. Delvile quickly replied that, " ' ... she was alone, -- I saw her myself
the moment she came in. ' " (p. 479) Cecilia and Mortimer were still
disturbed, remembering that day, and too hastily assured Mrs. Delvile, that "
' ...he was gone... ' "[Cecilia] and " ' I had the honour to wait upon Miss
Beverley to the little gate; and I was just then returning to Lady Honoria
when I met her ladyship coming in. ' "[Mortimer] (p. 480) The ever conscious
Mr. Delvile was annoyed that Mortimer would escort Cecilia back home before
Lady Honoria (birth should always take precedence).
After feverishly conversing on any subject that presented, to prevent untimely
conjectures about the reason for their depressed moods, Cecilia and Mortimer
lapsed into morose silences. Cecilia saw that Mortimer was seeking an
opportunity to speak with her, but, dreading hearing of some insuperable
obstacle to a marriage between them, Cecilia evaded all opportunities for a
tete a tete.
The combination of mental stress and neglected health began to tell, and
Mortimer fell ill. Cecilia felt responsible, suspecting that a large part of
his ill health was due to her refusing him any opportunity to have it out with
her. What a time for the two expected guests to come!
Lords Ernolf and Derford arrived and were thankfully received by Cecilia, who
at last had fellow victims to share the attention of Lady Honoria. Unease
about Mortimer's health were augmented by the visitors immediately commenting
on the unhealthy appearance of the young Delvile. Apprehensions of mother and
lover were revived, and, " Cecilia reproached herself with having deferred the
conference he was evidently seeking, not doubting but that she had contributed
to his indisposition by denying him the relief he might expect by concluding
the affair." (p. 482) She decided to buck up and bear any bad news Mortimer
might have to impart, the next opportunity they might have.
Unfortunately, that was the very morning that Delvile finally acknowledged that he did not
feel well, and immediate chaos ensued. Possible illness in the treasured heir
was to be dreaded as one of the greatest of evils. Mortimer tried to laugh
off his indisposition, but the family doctor stated that he was, in fact, ill.
Mr. Delvile was ready to call in the entire Royal Academy of Physicians and
Surgeons, but Mr. Lyster felt that the cavalry would not be necessary for a
cold. After a brief chat, the doctor accompanied Mortimer to his room to
examine the unwilling patient. Cecilia impatiently waited for the verdict in
her room, but when none came, she returned downstairs, where she was joined by
Lord Ernolf and Lady Honoria. She teasingly accused Cecilia of causing
Mortimer's illness; " ' Why this tender chicken caught cold in the storm last
week, and not being put to bed by its mama, and nursed with white wine whey,
the poor thing has got a fever!' " (p. 484) The pampering of the last of the
Delviles was animatedly discussed by all but Cecilia, who was for some reason
distracted with thoughts of her own. Mr. Lyster again entered the room, and
gave as his verdict the reason Mortimer had taken ill was staying in his
storm-soaked clothes all that fateful evening.
Worse and worse! "[Cecilia] was conscious that whatever was the indisposition
of Delvile, and whether it was mental or bodily, she was herself its occasion:
through her he had been negligent, she had rendered him forgetful, and in
consulting her own fears in preference to his peace, she had avoided an
explanation, though he had vigilantly sought one. She knew not, he told her,
half the wretchedness of his heart. --- Alas! thought she, he little
conjectures the state of mine!' " (p. 485)
Diversion from this gloomy line of thinking was soon to come. Lady Honoria
gleefully shared with Cecilia her plan for excitement.
' Good heaven, Lady Honoria!'
' O, you shall hear the reason; because, as I assured him, it was proper he
should immediately call him to account.'
' Are you mad, Lady Honoria?'
' For you know ... Miss Beverley has had one duel fought for her already,
and a lady who has once had that compliment paid her, always expects it from
every new admirer; and I really believe your not observing that form is the
true cause of her coldness to you.'
' Is it possible you can have talked so wildly?'
'Yes, and what is much better, he believed every word I said! ' " Does anyone remember P.G. Wodehouse's Bad Girl Bobbie Wickham who instigated
mentally negligible (as Jeeves described him) Bertie Wooster to puncture Sir
Roderick Glossop's hot water bottle with a needle on the end of a stick? Do
you suppose Plum might have read Burney?
Cecilia vainly tried to persuade Lady Honoria (hmm, Sir Roderick had a
daughter named Honoria) to " ... go back and contradict it all ... " (p. 486).
Lady Honoria felt it was totally unnecessary. I did like her description of
Bertie, err, Lord Ernolf: " ' ... his poor head is so vacant, that I am sure
if one might but play upon it with sticks, it would sound just like a drum. '"
It was a gloomy household, with the master and mistress so visibly concerned
for their son. Cecilia found pleasure only in befriending Mortimer's dog,
Fidel, and spent most of her time out of doors, rambling with her canine
companion.
The next morning when Mr. Lyster came, he recommended that Mortimer have a
change of air, making a trip to Bristol. When his fever and cough left him,
he would be encouraged to go. Would Cecilia lose her chance to clear up the
mystery?
Jill Spriggs
Re: Burney, Cecilia:III:VI:6: What Mood Is This Book In? (A Mystery)
I think this is a good chapter to use to ask, What mood is this book in?
There are several places where the mood of the fiction does indeed recall
P. G. Wodehouse. Sometimes characters make comments on one
another which are so mocking and deflating, one has to say Burney herself
did not take her fiction seriously. In this chapter Jill quotes the
following description of the (rich, idle, ever-so-sensitive and
sensible in the S&S sense Mortimer):
But consider Biggs's continual mockery of the fiction and the characterization
of him too.
One problem we have in reading this book is it was written before there was
a changeover from regarding novels and poetry in general as primarily
entertainment or autobiographical. The most general praise for them
would be they were moral enough to reflect values one could find in
sermons (much better of course for the purpose) or satirised something
or somebody specific. It was the 19th century which elevated novelist
and poet into vatic status; it was Matthew Arnold who said religion
was turning out to be a myth and not a helpful one in modern society
and it was the business of the poet to be our new priests.
Another is after the 1790s people read to involve themselves deeply
in an imagined psychological consciousness seriously, deeply
dwelt in. Burney clearly comes before this too. Modern interpretations
of novels by and before Austen suffer by their emphasis on what
to the readers of the time was in the margins not the center of
novels. We might say Burney is in a number of fundamental
attitudes closer to Smollett and farce than Austen ever could be;
between Burney and Austen came all those romances Austen
mocked, but they changed the novel and taste permanently.
More is owed to Mrs Radcliffe than is often realised. Consider
the scene wherein Cecilia goes out with the dog to spend time
in the landscape. Both Austen and Radcliffe would have taken
us there to muse with Cecilia and that is what we would
come away remembering because we find it pleasurable and
meaningful in a way Burney's generation didn't.
Ellen Moody
Subject: Cecilia, Vol. III, Bk. V, Ch. XI, Priscilla
Subject: Cecilia, Vol. III, Bk. VI, Ch. I, A Debate
August 16, 1998
" ' ... what have we creditors to have with a man's family?
Suppose I am a cabinet maker? When I send in my chairs, do I ask who is to
sit upon them? No; it's all one to me whether it's the gentleman's progeny
or his friends, I must be paid for the chairs the same, use them who may.
That's the law, ma'am, and no man need be ashamed to abide by it' "
(Oxford Cecilia, edd. MADoody and PSabor, p. 448)
To: AUSTEN-L@VM1.MCGILL.CA
Subject: Cecilia, Vol. III, Bk. VI, Ch. III, An Antique Mansion
August 19, 1998
"Even the imperious Mr. Delvile was more supportable here than in London:
secure in his own castle, he looked around him with a pride of power and of
possession which softened while it swelled him. [Remember Wemick's totally
different demeanor at work?] His superiority was undisputed, his will was
without controul. He was not, as in the great capital of the kingdom,
surrounded by competitors; no rivalry disturbed his peace, no equality
mortified his greatness; all he saw were either vassals of his power, or
guests bending to his pleasure; he abated, therefore, considerably, the stern
gloom of his haughtiness, and soothed his proud mind by the courtesy of
condescension."
"Her strong mind disdained useless complaints, yet her
discontent, however private, was deep. Ardent in her disposition, and
naturally violent in her passions, her feelings were extremely acute,
and to curb them by reason and principle had been the chief and
hard study of her life. The effort had calmed, but had not made her happy"
(Oxford ed, MADoody and PSabor, Cecilia, p 461)
"he knew, too, that while without him, her [Mrs Delvile's]
existence would be a burthen, her tenderness was no effusion of
weak partiality, but founded on the strongest assurances of his
worth" (p. 462)
Reply-To: Jane Austen List
From: "Jill L. Spriggs"
Subject: Cecilia, Vol. III, Bk. VI, Ch. IV, A Rattle
"'I wish you might have been here last summer; I assure you, you would
quite have fallen in love with him.'
" ' I believe, my dear,' ... looking very archly, ' you
intend to be married to him yourself?'
Subject: Cecilia, Vol. III, Bk. VI, Ch. V, A Storm
To: AUSTEN-L@VM1.MCGILL.CA
August 20, 1998
"Delvile eagerly said to Cecilia, ' Come then, Miss Beverley, let us wait
no longer; I will see you home, and then return to Lady Honoria.'
" Cecilia now could no longer be either silent or unmoved, but turning to
him with much emotion, said, ' Why will you do this, Mr. Delvile?'
" ' If this, however, ... is at last his situation, how much
have I been to blame in censuring his conduct! for while to me he has
appeared capricious, he has, in fact, acted wholly from necessity: if his
father insists upon his forming another connection, has he not been honorable,
prudent and just, in flying an object that made him think of disobedience, and
endeavoring to keep her ignorant of a partiality it is his duty to curb?' "
Sender: Jane Austen List
From: "Jill L. Spriggs"
Subject: Cecilia, Vol. III, Bk. VI, Ch. VI, A Mystery
" ' ... as a friend, in confidence I must acquaint him, I believed you
intended to marry Mortimer --'
" ' Why this tender chicken caught cold in the storm last
week, and not being put to bed by its mama, and nursed
with white wine whey, the poor thing has got a fever!' " (p. 484).
Ellen Moody.
Pagemaster: Jim
Moody.
Page Last Updated 18 January 2003