Showing posts with label 1801. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1801. Show all posts

Friday, March 12, 2021

25. Belinda


Belinda. Maria Edgeworth. 1801. 544 pages. [Source: Bought]

First sentence: Mrs. Stanhope, a well-bred woman, accomplished in that branch of knowledge which is called the art of rising in the world, had, with but a small fortune, contrived to live in the highest company. She prided herself upon having established half a dozen nieces most happily, that is to say, upon having married them to men of fortunes far superior to their own. One niece still remained unmarried—Belinda Portman, of whom she was determined to get rid with all convenient expedition.

Premise/plot: Will she, won't she? I wouldn't say the whole plot revolves around the question will Belinda marry or not. But if you change it to the whole plot revolves around WHO Belinda might marry if she marries, then it works. So Belinda, our heroine, has essentially been farmed out to London to live with Lord and Lady Delacour. Lady Delacour is a social butterfly with abundant wit (but does she have common sense?) who will help Belinda find "the one." But will Belinda's "one" be one of Lady Delacour's cast offs? Will she get a hand-me-down lover? 

So one of the gentleman lining up to see if they get a rose--figuratively speaking--is Clarence Hervey. He doesn't like Belinda at first--he takes her to be scheming and manipulative. But that is because either he is a) assuming that Belinda is like her aunt (Mrs. Stanhope) or like Lady Delacour (whom he claims to be absolutely crazy about) or b) he isn't working with a full deck of cards. It might be the latter. Maybe.

 Another gentleman is Mr. Vincent. He comes oh-so-close to getting the final rose.

What can I say about Belinda? Well, she's VANILLA and everything sugary sweet. She always does everything exactly right and in the right way and manner. If you find fault with Belinda, well, it is saying more about you than her. (Hint: LADY DELACOUR AND CLARENCE HERVEY, I'M LOOKING AT YOU.) 

What can I say about Lady Delacour? Well, to be honest she's super entertaining and a hoot. She spends most of the book being a terrible wife and a terrible mother...but...as a narrator I couldn't help loving her the most. (You made me love you, I didn't want to do it, I didn't want to do it).  I cared more about Lady Delacour's drama in personal life and social life than I did about Belinda.

What can I say about Clarence Hervey? WELL. He features rather largely in one of the book's sub-plots inspired by Thomas Day. Meeting Belinda, well, it confuses him thoroughly because unbeknownst to the reader he's been training up a wife-to-be for years. He's just waiting for her to come of age.

My thoughts: It was entertaining enough most of the time. It isn't flawless and amazing. But it made me laugh and smile some of the time. I can't say Clarence Hervey is my ideal husband, but, to each their own.

Quotes:

Clarence Hervey might have been more than a pleasant young man, if he had not been smitten with the desire of being thought superior in every thing, and of being the most admired person in all companies.

He had been early flattered with the idea that he was a man of genius; and he imagined that, as such, he was entitled to be imprudent, wild, and eccentric.

Miss Portman at first imagined that Lady Delacour dreaded the discovery of her cosmetic secrets, but her ladyship's rouge was so glaring, and her pearl powder was so obvious, that Belinda was convinced there must be some other cause for this toilette secrecy.

"Not at all too late, my dear," said Lady Delacour; "never too late for women to change their minds, their dress, or their lovers.

I have much to say, as people usually have when they begin to talk of themselves.

I am no hypocrite, and have nothing worse than folly to conceal: that's bad enough—for a woman who is known to play the fool is always suspected of playing the devil. But I begin where I ought to end—with my moral, which I dare say you are not impatient to anticipate.

I can tell you that nothing is more unlike a novel than real life.
 
All fashionable historians stop to make reflections, supposing that no one else can have the sense to make any. 
 
"Life is a tragicomedy! Though the critics will allow of no such thing in their books, it is a true representation of what passes in the world; and of all lives mine has been the most grotesque mixture, or alternation, I should say, of tragedy and comedy. 

 A stupid man cannot readily be persuaded out of his senses—what he sees he sees, and neither more nor less; but 'tis the easiest thing in the world to catch hold of a man of genius: you have nothing to do but to appeal from his senses to his imagination, and then he sees with the eyes of his imagination, and hears with the ears of his imagination;

"We learn the value of all things, but especially of friends, by experience," said Lady Anne; "and it is no wonder, therefore, that those who have little experience of the pleasures of friendship should not be wise enough to know their value."

"But it is so difficult to get at facts, even about the merest trifles," said Lady Delacour. "Actions we see, but their causes we seldom see—an aphorism worthy of Confucius himself: now to apply.

Prudence, whether in trifles or in matters of consequence, can be learned only by experience (which is often too dearly bought), or by listening, which costs nothing, to the suggestions of those who have a thorough knowledge of the world.

"You read, I see!—I did not know you were a reading girl. So was I once; but I never read now. Books only spoil the originality of genius: very well for those who can't think for themselves—but when one has made up one's opinion, there is no use in reading."

You know it is a ruled case, in all romances, that when a lover and his mistress go out riding together, some adventure must befal them.     The horse must run away with the lady, and the gentleman must catch her in his arms just as her neck is about to be broken. If the horse has been too well trained for the heroine's purpose, 'some footpad, bandit fierce, or mountaineer,' some jealous rival must make his appearance quite unexpectedly at the turn of a road, and the lady must be carried off—robes flying—hair streaming—like Bürger's Leonora. Then her lover must come to her rescue just in the proper moment. But if the damsel cannot conveniently be run away with, she must, as the last resource, tumble into a river to make herself interesting, and the hero must be at least half drowned in dragging her out, that she may be under eternal obligations to him, and at last be forced to marry him out of pure gratitude."

 Our reasonings as to the conduct of life, as far as moral prudence is concerned, must depend ultimately upon facts. Now, of the numbers of people in this world, how many do you think have married their first loves? Probably not one out of ten. Then, would you have nine out of ten pine all their lives in celibacy, or fret in matrimony, because they cannot have the persons who first struck their fancy?" "I scarcely know an idea more dangerous to domestic happiness than this belief in the unextinguishable nature of a first flame. There are people who would persuade us that, though it may be smothered for years, it must break out at last, and blaze with destructive fury.

The woman who marries one man, and loves another, who, in spite of all that an amiable and estimable husband can do to win her confidence and affection, nourishes in secret a fatal prepossession for her first love, may perhaps, by the eloquence of a fine writer, be made an interesting heroine;—but would any man of sense or feeling choose to be troubled with such a wife?

 "Perhaps the appearance of virtue," said Belinda, "might, on many occasions, succeed as well as the reality."

I can listen tolerably well, when I don't know what people are going to say; but when I know it all beforehand, I have an unfortunate habit of not being able to attend to one word.

Angry people, who express their passion, as it has been justly said, always speak worse than they think. This was usually the case with her ladyship.  

  

© 2021 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Pamela


Pamela. Samuel Richardson. 1740/1801. (Penguin) 540 pages.

My dear Father and Mother,
I have great trouble, and some comfort, to acquaint you with.


My introduction states, "When Pamela, Or Virtue Rewarded appeared in two volumes in November 1740 it was soon what we should call a 'best seller', the first example of that phenomenon in the history of English fiction. Everybody read it; there was a 'Pamela' rage, and Pamela motifs appeared on teacups and fans." It goes on to say, "Pamela has never ceased being a controversial work."

Who is Pamela? She's a nobody. She's young. She's beautiful. She's dutiful and virtuous. But socially speaking, she's a nobody. She was a young girl--a teen--taken into a great family out of charity. She was a waiting maid on the mistress of the house. A companion. When the lady dies, Pamela's fate becomes uncertain. For Mr. B, the lady's son, can't quite make up his mind what to do about Pamela. You see, he sees her and he wants her. He lusts after her. He feels he just has to have her. And since she is a nobody, who is really going to care if he takes her. Pamela cares. And, of course, Pamela's parents care. But because they're poor, they're nobodies too. Every attempt Mr. B makes on 'poor' Pamela's virtue fails. She protests. She faints if she must. She begs, she pleads, she falls on her knees, she falls on her face. She must be given her freedom, must be allowed to return home to her parents pure and chaste. Just when she thinks she's been granted this gift, she finds herself kidnapped. Because Mr. B must have his way.

How easy it is to go from bad to worse, when once people give way to vice! (102)

But I am now convinced that wickedness is folly with witness. (102)
Throughout all the drama, Pamela writes--both in her journal in letters home. She gives an account day by day of her ordeal. She finds herself a prisoner at one of Mr. B's estates. She finds all the men and women in the house in his pay. These servants are heartless, actively seeking Pamela harm. Though Pamela tries to find a friendly person to plead her case with, she finds almost everyone unconcerned. It seems the young girl's purity--her virtue--just isn't of much worth in the great scheme of things.

Eventually, Mr. B. himself arrives to see what he can do. Will he have his way with her? Will he be able to trick her into his bed? Or will her virtue be rewarded?

Did I like this one? I certainly found it compelling in places. I wanted to know what happened next. Not so much because I loved the characters, but because I was curious to see just how everything would unfold. Truth be told, I found Pamela difficult at times. Especially when I read that her parents would never ever want to see their daughter again if she lost her virtue.

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I couldn't resist reading the ending of this one relatively early on. And I was a bit shocked. Why? The thought of Pamela having endured all the nasty attempts on Mr. B's part--all those hateful, cruel words, all those deceitful tricks and pranks--only to have her marry him?! How could the villain turn out to be the hero? He tries to rape her. Again and again. He tries to force her into a sexual relationship against her will. Despite all her protests. Despite all her fainting attempts. Despite all the dramatics. He is holding her against her will. He is controlling every move she makes. He is reading all her letters. He is reading her journals. He is forcing her into a place where she can't have a private thought in her head even. No doubt about it--even if the sexual assaults are just attempts, even if her virtue remains hers--Mr. B is abusive. The fact that he offers her money, offers her parents money, changes nothing. So my thought throughout as I was reading is this: when does Pamela go from seeing Mr. B as a devil-in-disguise, a wicked man who can't be trusted, to him being the love of her life and the man of her dreams? When does she go from seeing his attempts as vile and repulsive to being ever-grateful for his love and affection? To having no will but his?

I found my answer on page 283:
But to be sure, I must own to you, that I shall never be able to think of any body in the world but him! Presumption! you will say; and so it is: but love, I imagine, is not a voluntary thing--Love, did I say! But come, I hope not: at least it is not, I hope, gone so far, as to make me very uneasy: for I know not how it came, nor when it began; but it has crept, crept, like a thief, upon me; and before I knew what was the matter, it looked like love.
We see her on her wedding day:
And thus, my dearest, dear parents, is your happy, happy, thrice happy Pamela, at last married! And to whom? Why to her beloved, gracious master! the lord of her wishes! And thus the dear, once naughty assailer of her innocence, by a blessed turn of Providence is become the kind, the generous protector and rewarder of it. God be ever more blessed and praised! and make me not wholly unworthy of such an honour! And bless and reward the dear, dear man, who has thus exalted his unworthy servant, and given her a place, which the greatest ladies would think themselves happy in! (375)
But not every one is happy about the marriage. Mr. B has a sister, Lady Davers. She is just as cruel, just as abusive--verbally and physically--on Pamela when she drops in unexpectedly soon after the private wedding. The confrontation lasts a good while and is probably one of the most exciting--most dramatic--scenes of the whole novel. There are a few more surprises to be revealed before the book is done.

I thought the relationship between Pamela and Mr. B to be unhealthy. Even after the wedding. When he proceeds on giving her lectures and instructions. The lecture rambles for so long that Pamela ends up making an outline of 48 points to help her remember everything. (Not that Pamela is anything but grateful for these rules.) Mr. B is NOT my ideal by any stretch of the imagination! So as a romance, I found Pamela a bit problematic.

I am looking forward to reading Henry Fielding's Shamela and Joseph Andrews.

Other reviews: Bookphilia, Bibliographing part one, two, three, four.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews