This blog explores social attitudes in Jane Austen's time, discusses her novels, reviews forgotten 18th century novels, and throws some occasional shade at the modern academy. The introductory post is here. My "six simple questions for academics" post is here. |
If you're familiar with the modern academy, you won't be surprised to know that scholars are mostly interested in the question of whether Rosella's author Mary Charlton has feminist leanings or not. Natalie Neill devotes much of her introductory essay on Rosella to examining the apparently conflicting messages: “Although Rosella can be read as a conservative satire, there are tensions in the text that complicate such a reading…. Further complicating our understanding of Rosella is the way that it opens itself to feminist counter readings…”
I think Charlton, like other authors of the period, mocks and criticizes human foibles on both sides of any question. As did Austen. Consider that Austen satirizes the vain Sir Walter Elliott but also skewers his toad-eating attorney Mr. Shepherd and Mr. Shepherd’s ambitious-social-climbing daughter, Mrs. Clay. So, which side is she on--is she with Jacobins who want to overthrow the aristocracy or is she an Anti-Jacobin who believes people should stay in the social class they were born into? I think she’s laughing at both sides. Likewise, Lydia Bennet is ignorant and has no education, Mary Bennet is a pedant and uses her education to be tiresome, while Elizabeth is the happy medium between the two.
As for the ladies, Selina Ellinger was a negligent, spendthrift housewife, and it's bad to neglect your household, husband, and children. Her mother-in-law, on the other hand, is a vigilant housekeeper and a comic scolding termagant who says of her daughter-in-law: “the good-for-nothing, extravagant, fine lady trollop went out of these doors, bag and baggage, on that blessed day! And whilst I can keep out of my grave, she shall never set foot here again… and see what she has left behind her! –Come when you would, you never saw a needle and thread in her hand!” Her approach is lampooned too.
We have ignorant, vain Livia Ellinger, Selina’s daughter, who is in the novel just to be laughed at, who boasts of accomplishments she does not have, and we have the female pedant Mrs. Methwald (not a bluestocking but a pedant, there is a difference) and her cold-hearted fashionable daughter Mrs. Cressy. These women set off the perfections of Rosella, who represents the sensible middle ground, neither ignorant nor a pedant, neither stingy nor careless with money, affectionate and loyal, compassionate and forgiving, capable of making good moral judgements. There are kind and wise female characters, like Lady Lucy, and there are selfish, manipulative and weak women, like Mrs. Craufurd and Mrs. Macdoual who are both victims and abettors of their husband’s misdeeds. As with Austen, the issue is not advocating for social change, the issue is, who fulfills the station in which Providence has placed them, who plays their role in life with integrity, and who is a fool or a fop or a flirt or a fraud or a floozy?
Mary Charlton’s heroine moves within, and does not resist, the strictures placed upon her as a single young woman. She is distressed when she realizes she has offended propriety, as a result of Miss Beauclerc forcing her into situations like walking home in the dark unescorted. When Rosella realizes that the “men of fortune” are making insinuations about her, she is deeply distressed. She conforms to societal expectations by trying her best to comply with the wishes of whichever adult she is living with; whether it is the Ellingers, Miss Beauclerc, or Mr. Mordaunt and his censorious sister Mrs. Methwald. As an unmarried young woman, she cannot live alone. When she thinks she’s facing an indefinite future bouncing between their homes, and that it's over between her and Arthur Oberne, she soberly accepts her destiny:
“What now were her views? To endeavour, by retiring within the limits of the sphere to which her orphan state had reduced her, to lose the unfortunate celebrity the eccentric conduct of Miss Beauclerc had procured her; to try, by the aid of reason and prudence, to banish the remembrance of those gay hopes she had once cherished; with a perception naturally distinguishing, and an acute idea of propriety, to live in the centre of affectation, morose tyranny, absurd pretensions, and squabbling ill-humour; and with a mind energetic and reflective, to endure perpetually the prattle of folly, and the scorn of the contemptible.
“To this had the romantic fervour of Miss Beauclerc reduced her…”
And as I mentioned, Rosella will not write to Oberne to clear up the misunderstanding about her marrying Mr. Lesley, no matter the consequences, because of the rules of propriety. The rule is so well known that Charlton doesn't have to explain it.
We could compare Rosella to Frances Burney’s heroine Evelina, a well-intentioned but naïve girl who makes social blunders when she is introduced to the world. Her hero, Lord Orville, is a mentor. to her; she looks up to him. Rosella’s hero has his own faults and while he protects Rosella, he’s not a mentor. Mr. Mordaunt tries to be a mentor to the deluded Sophia Beauclerc, but he remonstrates with her in vain. So we could say that Mary Charlton creates females who have to ponder and learn and find their own way through life, without the help of a mansplainer. You could make that argument, if you liked.
The single most feminist action in the book comes when Mrs. Delaval ensures that the monies she’s owed by Mr. Macdoual are bequeathed to Mrs. Macduoual for her control. She cannot prevent Mr. Macdoual from being an intimidating bully, but financial settlements were an important way of ensuring women could keep their money out of the hands of controlling men, and Mrs. Delaval and her lawyers try to ensure it. Money is at the root of female empowerment.
Despite this lengthy discussion of feminist interpretations, I don't Mary Charlton needs the recommendation of being a feminist for her work to deserve rediscovery. I am much more interested in Charlton’s use of humour, irony, and free indirect discourse in a novel published 12 years before Austen published her first novel. Also, Charlton wrote and translated a dozen novels in various genres; doesn’t being a professional writer in a man’s world make you ipso facto a feminist?
In a few of the novels I've read, there has been a character who comments ironically on the action, as a sort of counterweight to the romantic conventions of hero and heroine. Charlotte Lucas, for example, is a cynic about marriage, in a book about a fairy-tale marriage. In Elfrida, the servant Hannah is always rolling her eyes at Elfrida's exquisite sensitivities.
In this novel, Mr. Mordaunt is a figure of sanity and pragmatism. As Miss Beauclerc's financial advisor, he tried his best to keep her out of trouble. After Mr. Mordaunt fields several proposals of marriage on Rosella's behalf, but has received no offer from Mr. Oberne, Rosella protests that her other suitors only offered marriage after she became an heiress. “[C]an I experience any gratitude for an attachment so mercenary?”
“There, there!” returned Mr. Mordant, “now you must sport your romance and heroics! –I thought, child, you had been surfeited of such folly. –In the name of God, do you suppose a man is to cull a wife out of a dairy or hay-field, to prove that he is disinterested?—Or that he is to provide a race of beggars to his family name, to shew the world that he despises the dross that is to buy them bread? –If you don’t mean to accept the proposals of any man till you are assured that he is wholly indifferent to your fortune, by all means divest yourself of every farthing, and wait till you are sought after portionless and destitute.”
Luckily, Oberne fell in love with Rosella before she became an heiress, and in true novel fashion, they will have disinterested love, a title, and lots of money, and they will responsibly fulfill their new stations in life.
There is a final bit of parody when Selina Ellinger, still not cured of her romantic delusions, appears and dramatically tells Rosella that her mother is..... Miss Beauclerc!!! Rosella politely informs her that she already knew it.
For a story that depends upon a repeated cycle of delusion and disappointment, Rosella is longer than it needs to be. I think the entire Mompesson episode in the first half of Volume II, (in which Rosella and Sophia encounter a distraught young man who has bankrupted his family) could be deleted without affecting the plot and it would tighten up the story. (In fact, I didn't mention it in the synopsis). The only thing that comes out of this section of the book is that we meet Mr. Delamere, the man who will marry the kindly Lady Lucy, and that could have been achieved some other way.
Another problem: Charlton repeatedly tells us that Oberne is witty and high-spirited and makes Rosella laugh. But we never (I think) see examples of his wit in dialogue. Compare that to Austen’s delightful portrayal of Henry Tilney! Other secondary male characters are underdeveloped, such as Mr. Lesley.
Some of the humor is dated or crude by our standards. For example, the servants, particularly the two female servants Nancy and Menie are not the sharpest knives in the drawer. The arrival of the harp on the back of an overladen pony is comic but you’re also sorry for the poor pony. The domestic abuse in the Macdoual household is supposedly comically leavened by the hoydenish behaviour of their five daughters.
The confrontation between Lord Morteyne and Sophia Beauclerc in Volume III, chapter 5, is hilarious and would make a great movie scene. There are some lovely bits of dry humour: “The motion of Mrs. Methwald’s head now discovered that she eagerly desired to plant a wise sentence after this observation; but her brother averted it by proceeding rather more rapidly.”
The hero Oberne has faults which we might judge more harshly than our narrator or Rosella does. Like Augustus Raymond and Mr. Mompesson, he has spent his way through several inheritances in “dissipation.” It’s only the death of his older brother, Lord Clanallan, and his assumption of the title and estates that enables him to propose marriage to Rosella, and we only have his assurances that she has reformed him. On the plus side, he always steps up to defend Rosella’s honour, even by challenging the “men of fashion” to a duel. He is self-deprecating and very far from being a snob.
We view a much broader range of society in this novel than we do in any of Austen’s novels. We see extreme poverty, particularly in Scotland, and the vast gulf between the lowest classes and the decadent aristocrats is the subject of an explicit harangue by Mr. Delamere. He speaks with Swiftian harshness of the consequences of teaching the laboring classes how to read. They will then be able to read in the newspapers about the lavish entertainments enjoyed by the rich, while they are starving. But it’s not a speech calling for overthrow; rather, for it’s a call for reform, from a man of the titled class. Mr. Delamere recollects himself, stops editorializing, and the story resumes. But his speech is a notable outburst from an accomplished professional writer and this one speech is far more directly political than anything Austen wrote. And--did anyone object to it? I gotta say it again, the notion that Austen had to cloak or hide her political opinions is poppycock, plenty of women aired their political views.
Rosella got a very positive review in The Anti-Jacobin Review, a conservative journal.
I plan to read more novels by Mary Charlton and I hope she allowed her dry wit to escape, even when she was not writing parodies.
Previous post: Rosella, part three
What's wrong with Mrs. Clay trying to do the best for herself that she can? In my short story, "The Art of Pleasing," we hear Persuasion from Mrs. Clay's point of view. It appears in the Quill Ink anthology, Rational Creatures. More about the Quill Ink anthologies here. Scholar Anna Uddén has pointed out that “Studies of the context of the early women’s novel tend to focus on the political implications of literature, a focus that makes us approach the literary work as a suspect, in [Laura] Runge’s words, demanding that it reveal its political bias. There is a risk, she says, that ‘we focus so intently on politics, we leave ourselves no authority to make aesthetic judgments.’” Uddén, Anna. Veils of irony: the development of narrative technique in women's novels of the 1790s 2000, S. Academiae Ubsaliensis, Distributor, Uppsala University Library |