An intriguing young woman escapes from post-Revolutionary France without money or assistance. Nameless, she has to rely on herself or charity. Another lengthy novel from Burney, to try a modern reader, but illuminating with regard to the overwhelming importance of name and connections – not personal worth, similar in that regard to Cecilia.
The unnamed heroine frustrates because she does not defend herself, and is pursued from pillar to post, and because she self-sacrifices again and again. She repels Harleigh, who is surely her destined mate. Initially this is because she gave her word, in honour, to prevent the dramatic suicide of another woman, Elinor, who is in love with him, that she would not marry Harleigh. Elinor is a bizarre and fascinating character, melodramatic and constantly seeking death, inspired by what she perceives as the glorious deaths during and after the French Revolution, so Ellis (as our heroine comes to be called) seems really wet in comparison to the impassioned and fevered Elinor. Elinor later loses reader sympathy through her repeated attempted suicides and her peremptory demands upon Harleigh and Ellis. Their equal horror of her crazed behaviour makes them acquiesce to her throughout, as though she is a spoiled child, which irritates, and it is hard today, to understand the very real terror at the taking of one’s own life, seen then as serious legal offence, but also as dishonourable, and going against the law of God.
‘Ellis’ continues to repel Harleigh’s attention, despite his increasing desperation and failure to understand why she seems to love him, whilst always running away. She runs about all over the Brighton area, is mistreated, verbally abused, put upon, and even suspected of being a kind of con-artist or thief. It takes sustained willpower to continue through the many, minutely detailed, descriptions of her sufferings, and her philosophizing upon the moral state of mankind in England and Burney makes us wait until640 before revealing our heroine’s true identity, and the reason why she cannot claim her family in England.
This doesn’t seem enough for her extreme secrecy and her terror being discovered, and on p738 Juliet tells her terrible story to an aged admirer, Sir Jasper Herrington, who has rescued her from the climactic encounter with her pursuer, when she believes that he is delivering her direct to her English relatives. He is not. She therefore escapes Sir Jasper, at Stonehenge, because to travel alone with a man compromises her honour, and is reliant on herself once again. Here fall too many coincidences to be believed, Harleigh appears, knowing her story, her true identity, and her wonderful story of sacrifice, duty, honour and survival. Still, she resists him because she cannot be free until she hears that her adoptive parent, the Bishop is safe. Even Elinor looms, ranting, over the Wiltshire horizon.
I’m going for a racing finish because it looks certain that our heroine will end up united with the Ideal, Harleigh. On p778 he is able to tell her that, as her wedding was never solemnized in church (and we know it has not been consummated), it is not legal. Yet still she persists in her need to ascertain the safety of the Bishop. I’m confident this is going to all come right, and I like a fairytale ending: the beautiful, decent heroine uniting with the handsome, honourable hero, the baddie vanquished, and smiles all round. It ends on p873 so I’m nearly there.
As with Evelina, and reiterated in Cecilia, this is a tale of female Honour, seen in the masculine sense of one’s Word and Behaviour, as well as feminine, sexual honour. The Wanderer, Juliet, has resisted all assistance, save from her family or women she meets, and has been obliged to receive money from men, to her shame, and which she always refers to as a loan. Her attempts at independence, honest work for decent pay, all fail. This damning indictment of eighteenth century society earned Burney few admirers and, following this novel, her previous success and popularity declined, and her novels were neglected.
The unnamed heroine frustrates because she does not defend herself, and is pursued from pillar to post, and because she self-sacrifices again and again. She repels Harleigh, who is surely her destined mate. Initially this is because she gave her word, in honour, to prevent the dramatic suicide of another woman, Elinor, who is in love with him, that she would not marry Harleigh. Elinor is a bizarre and fascinating character, melodramatic and constantly seeking death, inspired by what she perceives as the glorious deaths during and after the French Revolution, so Ellis (as our heroine comes to be called) seems really wet in comparison to the impassioned and fevered Elinor. Elinor later loses reader sympathy through her repeated attempted suicides and her peremptory demands upon Harleigh and Ellis. Their equal horror of her crazed behaviour makes them acquiesce to her throughout, as though she is a spoiled child, which irritates, and it is hard today, to understand the very real terror at the taking of one’s own life, seen then as serious legal offence, but also as dishonourable, and going against the law of God.
‘Ellis’ continues to repel Harleigh’s attention, despite his increasing desperation and failure to understand why she seems to love him, whilst always running away. She runs about all over the Brighton area, is mistreated, verbally abused, put upon, and even suspected of being a kind of con-artist or thief. It takes sustained willpower to continue through the many, minutely detailed, descriptions of her sufferings, and her philosophizing upon the moral state of mankind in England and Burney makes us wait until640 before revealing our heroine’s true identity, and the reason why she cannot claim her family in England.
This doesn’t seem enough for her extreme secrecy and her terror being discovered, and on p738 Juliet tells her terrible story to an aged admirer, Sir Jasper Herrington, who has rescued her from the climactic encounter with her pursuer, when she believes that he is delivering her direct to her English relatives. He is not. She therefore escapes Sir Jasper, at Stonehenge, because to travel alone with a man compromises her honour, and is reliant on herself once again. Here fall too many coincidences to be believed, Harleigh appears, knowing her story, her true identity, and her wonderful story of sacrifice, duty, honour and survival. Still, she resists him because she cannot be free until she hears that her adoptive parent, the Bishop is safe. Even Elinor looms, ranting, over the Wiltshire horizon.
I’m going for a racing finish because it looks certain that our heroine will end up united with the Ideal, Harleigh. On p778 he is able to tell her that, as her wedding was never solemnized in church (and we know it has not been consummated), it is not legal. Yet still she persists in her need to ascertain the safety of the Bishop. I’m confident this is going to all come right, and I like a fairytale ending: the beautiful, decent heroine uniting with the handsome, honourable hero, the baddie vanquished, and smiles all round. It ends on p873 so I’m nearly there.
As with Evelina, and reiterated in Cecilia, this is a tale of female Honour, seen in the masculine sense of one’s Word and Behaviour, as well as feminine, sexual honour. The Wanderer, Juliet, has resisted all assistance, save from her family or women she meets, and has been obliged to receive money from men, to her shame, and which she always refers to as a loan. Her attempts at independence, honest work for decent pay, all fail. This damning indictment of eighteenth century society earned Burney few admirers and, following this novel, her previous success and popularity declined, and her novels were neglected.
Comments