Book 14 - Villette

Well I just finished Charlotte Bronte's Villette and I was horribly dismayed by the ambiguous ending. You don't need to read Charlotte Bronte's biography to know that she had a difficult life - it comes through in the stoic manner of her characters. Lucy, like Jane, suffers from difficult circumstances and certainly does not lead a smooth life.

Lucy Snowe is an essentially penniless and friendless young woman (sound familiar?) who takes it into her head to travel to France with no secure situation. With determination and a dash of luck she secures a place teaching English in a French boarding school. As her name symbolically uggests, Lucy is a fairly detached and observant woman who depicts the character of those around her with honesty, wit and accuracy. She observes the flirtations and romances of her friends and acquaintances but does not actively seek to participate, nor would she announce her feelings to those she is drawn to.

Despite her self-effacing ways, Lucy catches the attention of the fiery and volatile Monseur Emmanuel, Professor of Literature. He claims to see beyond her modest facade and accuses her of being a passionate and wiley woman. The strange relationship that grows between the two is highly compelling - M. Emmanuel's voluble lectures and flamboyant actions are met by Lucy's innate stubbornness and pointed barbs. It is not a conventional relationship - at first it appears the two truly irritate each other, and even so they appear to be more friends than lovers for most of the book.

I mentioned that Lucy is a stoic and Villette reflects the author's sufferings. Certainly Lucy is more pragmatic than optimistic. When commenting on the courtship of two friends, Dr John and Paulina, she observes that some such as these are born to live fortunate and blessed lives, where she is not. I felt a sort of pity for this character who did not expect much for her life beyond being a single teacher and paying her way. This refrain reoccurs throughout the book and heightened the suspense considerably for the last series of events - there could be no guarentee of the conventional "happy ending".

A bit of a spoiler alert here for those who may want to read the book. I really want to discuss the ending because it affected me signficantly. Eventually the relationship between Lucy and M. Emmanuel deepends into love, but many obstacles are placed in their way - from financial circumstances to family objections and even religious issues (Protestant vs Catholic). Lucy is even led to temporarily believe that he is betrothed to another. Just as it all comes through Emmanuel's friends and family find a way to separate them by sending him off to manage an estate in the West Indies for three years. With all this tension, it seems impossible that it won't resolve in a happy marriage between the two. But alas! in the Epilogue Lucy tells of her three years of waiting which end in a series of wild storms that occur just as M. Emmanuel's ship should be returning. But instead of telling us his fate, she writes:

"Here pause: pause at once. There is enough said. Trouble no quiet, kind heart; leave sunny imagines hope....Let them picutre union and a happy succeeding life."

Aaagghhh! I would rather be told and have Lucy's gloomy predictions on her life confirmed than be left hanging like that. To invest so much in characters and then be deprived of a resolution is incredibly frustrating. How terribly postmodern - 100 years before that particular "ism" existed. But as I said, I really feel that the disappointment that Lucy - and the reader - suffers speaks a great deal of the kind of life that Bronte led. No doubt I will have more on that later if I manage to get through her biography!

Book 13: Wives and Daughters

There was a natural progression in moving from Jane Eyre to Wives and Daughters. Its author, Elizabeth Gaskell, was a contemporary and close friend of Charlotte Bronte. In fact she wrote Bronte's biography, which I may attempt to read at some point in the future (I borrowed it from the library but you should see how tiny the print is!).

Molly is the half-orphaned daughter of Dr Gibson, raised to be quite a sensible and engaging (if shy) young woman. When invited to be a temporary companion to Mrs Hambly, the ailing wife of the local squire, her gentle and empathetic nature impresses itself on the entire household, including the rough-natured squire and his sons Osborne and Roger. Osborne is considered to be the genius of the family, whereas they view hardworking and good-natured Roger as a bit of a "plodder". However it soon becomes clear that Roger's strength is not the Classic fields of learning but progressive science and maths, and he soon makes a name for himself amongst the scientific community. His kind nature endears him to Molly and she quietly falls in love with him.

Circumstances at home seem to require Molly have a chaperone and the doctor somewhat unwisely plunges into marriage with Hyacinth Kirkpatrick, a widowed schoolmistress with a daughter of her own. Her somewhat vapid and selfish ways soon become a trial to Molly and her father. For Molly the greatest advantage in the marriage is that she gains a new sister, Cynthia, a beautiful, outspoken and strong-willed young lady with the ability to make all men drop at her feet. Molly's love for her new sister is strained when it becomes evident that Roger has fallen for Cynthia. But Cynthia also has a secret engagement with the unscrupulous Mr Preston, one that threatens to ruin not only her reputation but Molly's as well.

I suspect my going from Jane Eyre to Wives and Daughters was a bit of a disservice to Gaskell - she does not exude the same unorthodox passion and willpower that Bronte does. Essentially this book is just as much about family relationships as romance and society and in fact feels a bit like a wordier, Victorian version of Austen's Mansfield Park. Some of the characterisation is thoroughly enjoyable - Hyacinth is perfectly awful and the Squire Hambly is a wonderfully rough character. All in all it's not a bad read, although somewhat wordy.