What to Read When You're Not Reading Jane Austen

In Wilkie Collins's No Name, Norah and Magdalen Vanstone find their happy lives shattered when both their parents die unexpectedly. Compounding their grief in this double loss, they soon discover that their mother and father had not been married at the time of their birth, making them, in the eyes of the world and in the eyes of the law, illegitimate. A problem with their father's will leaves them penniless as well, and dependent on the charity of an uncle they have never known, who inherits both their father's property and his fortune. When the uncle proves cruelly indifferent to their plight, the elder sister, Norah, resigns herself to her altered station, and finds employment as a governess. But Magdalen, the younger sister, vows to take revenge on her heartless relation, and to regain her lost fortune by fair means or foul.

When her uncle dies, Magdalen assumes a false identity and sets about to ensnare his feeble son and heir, Noel Vanstone, into marriage. With the aid of a comically shrewd swindler, Captain Wragge, and his whimsically befuddled wife, she succeeds only too well: at the cost of her self-respect, she finally marries a man she passionately hates. By a cruel twist of fate, however, her husband learns her true identity and manages to cut her from his will just before he dies himself. Increasingly desperate, Magdalen seeks another way to retrieve her fortune; but friendless and penniless in London, she falls dangerously ill in consequence of the many months of emotional strain she has suffered. In this state she is discovered and rescued by Captain Kirke — no relation to the commander of the Enterprise ;-) — who had seen her just once before and fallen in love with her on first sight. In another twist, it turns out that Magdalen's sister Norah, while endeavouring only to earn an honest living, has won both the respect and the love of the new heir, and by a marriage of affection recovers the lost fortune her sister had so demeaned herself to secure.

A number of parallels may be drawn between Wilkie Collins's No Name and Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility. Both novels feature a pair of sisters, the younger impulsive and emotional, the elder reserved and practical. In both novels, the sisters are forced to leave a loving and affluent home when the family estate passes to an unfeeling male relative upon the death of their father. As in Sense and Sensibility, the younger daughter is in love with a handsome but selfish and unworthy young man (in an echo of Mansfield Park, she falls in love with him while involved in private theatricals), who eventually abandons her to marry a wealthy woman; and, again as in Sense and Sensibility, she later becomes dangerously ill, and in her illness receives the assistance of an older man who loves her, and whom she eventually marries. There is even some similarity in the names of the sisters in both books: Elinor=Norah, and Marianne=Magdalen.

In other ways, however, No Name is light years apart from Sense and Sensibilty. In No Name the elder sister, Norah, is a secondary character, and the younger, Magdalen, is the heroine — a heroine who behaves as no Jane Austen heroine ever did or ever could behave. But in spite of all the wicked things she does, Magdalen is redeemable, and, in the end redeemed; and the lesson learned as a result is not so unlike Austen's after all.

Eden, Emily

The Semi-attached Couple (1860)

In The Semi-attached Couple, a very young Lady Helen marries handsome, rich Lord Teviot. She loves, but does not comprehend him; he loves, but does not comprehend her. A series of misunderstandings and jealousies threaten their happiness, but impending tragedies — the possible loss of their fortune, and Teviot's almost fatal illness — open their hearts to each other, and all misunderstandings and jealousies are finally laid to rest.

The Semi-Detached House (1859)

The Semi-Detached House follows the lives and loves of two families living side by side in (you guessed it) a semi-detached house. Young, lively Lady Blanche moves into the house to await her confinement, while her beloved husband is abroad on a diplomatic mission. She dreads meeting the family next door, whom she imagines will be low and vulgar; but she is soon enchanted by the Hopkinsons, a family which includes two pleasing daughters near her own age, and strikes up a warm friendship with them. Love (and of course, marriage) comes to all the unmarried characters by the finale, but the relationships are developed in a rather sketchy way, and hence are not terribly exciting.

These two short novels display a charming and witty style which certainly has something of the flavor of Jane Austen, though falling far short of Austen's works in plotting and characterization.

Gaskell, Elizabeth

North and South (1855)

Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South is a stirring, sensual love story set amid the bitterness and violence of class antagonism in England during the Industrial Revolution. Gaskell was a contemporary, not of Jane Austen, but of Eliot, Dickens and Charlotte Bronte; however, pride as well as prejudice figure prominently in North and South.

Margaret Hale is the daughter of a dissenting clergyman, uprooted from her beloved rural home in the south of England, and transplanted to the smoky manufacturing town of Milton-Northern. Intelligent and self-possessed but deeply passionate, Margaret is unfortunately burdened with the prejudice of her class against 'the vulgarity of tradespeople'. John Thornton is a mill-owner: forceful, resolute, honest, and defiant; afraid to show weakness, whether towards his workers, or towards Margaret. Nonetheless, his passion for Margaret proves stronger than his pride, and his love endures even in the face of her rejection.

Gaskell's hero and heroine are fully fleshed out; both their attraction to each other, and the misunderstandings that keep them apart through most of the book, are compelling and thoroughly believable. In addition, Gaskell's portrayal of working class struggles shows an intimate knowledge of her subjects; she never falls back on stereotypes of good and evil to describe masters or men.

North and South is a bit slow getting started, but those who persist will be amply rewarded. Devotees of Austen, Eliot, and Bronte should find North and South eminently satisfying.

Wives and Daughters (1866)

Molly Gibson is happily growing to young womanhood when her much-beloved widowed father, the village doctor, marries a shallow and pretentious widow, with a daughter about Molly's age. Though she dislikes and resents her stepmother, Molly is altogether captivated by her new stepsister, Cynthia.

Unfortunately, Roger Hamley, the young man Molly has grown to love, is also captivated by the charming and beautiful Cynthia. Before leaving for two years on a scientific expedition, Roger confesses his love to her, and she agrees to marry him when he returns. Unselfish Molly does everything possible to promote the happiness of Roger and Cynthia; but she soon discovers Cynthia is embroiled in a mysterious relationship with Mr. Preston, a man from her past. Attempting to extricate Cynthia from this entanglement, Molly herself becomes the subject of local gossip.

Wives and Daughters is an absorbing tale — probably more like a George Eliot novel than one of Jane Austen's, though some of its characters are distinctly 'Austenish' (Mr. Gibson, for example, is reminiscent of P&P's Mr. Bennett; and Mrs. Gibson seems a direct descendant of Emma's Mrs. Elton, with overtones of MP's Mrs Norris). There are various other characters and subplots which add complexity to the story. Unfortunately, Gaskell died just before finishing the book, so the final union of Molly and Roger must be left to our imagination; but we know without a doubt (and are assured by Gaskell's editor) that it will take place.

Hardy, Thomas

Far from the Madding Crowd (1874)

When Gabriel Oak falls in love with Bathsheba Everdene, she is a beautiful, penniless young woman, he a farmer with every expectation of future prosperity. If we marry, he tells her, '...at home by the fire, whenever you look up, there I shall be — and whenever I look up, there you shall be.' Bathsheba likes Gabriel but doesn't love him, and this picture of wedded bliss does not delight her; so she rejects his offer. Soon after, she inherits a large, thriving farm, while Gabriel tragically loses his small, striving one; by a twist of fate, he ends up working for her. Gabriel sticks by Bathsheba through all manner of troubles, proving himself a faithful servant, a trustworthy advisor, and a true friend — though never at the cost of his own honesty or dignity. After many turns of fortune's wheel, Bathsheba finally comes to realise that 'whenever she looks up,' it is always Gabriel she is looking for; and his devotion is at last rewarded with her love.

Far from the Madding Crowd is the first nineteenth century British novel I ever read, and is still one of my most favourite. The characters are winning, the story memorable, and its many sparks of humour delightful. Moreover, Hardy has so wonderfully conveyed the peace and loveliness of the quiet rural world his characters inhabit that, on re-reading this book, a beautiful, indescribable aura of tranquillity sometimes stays with me for days afterward.

A Pair of Blue Eyes (1873)

Aspiring architect Stephen Smith comes to the seaside village of Endelstow to work on a church restoration project. While there, he falls in love with Elfride Swancourt, the parson's daughter, and they become engaged. When her father learns Smith is not well-born, however, he forbids the match. The lovers make an aborted attempt to elope; Elfride returns home the following day unmarried, but still chaste. Smith goes to India, planning to return and marry Elfride after making his fortune; but while he is gone, Elfride falls in love with his best friend and mentor, Mr. Knight. They too become engaged, but when he discovers she has concealed from him her previous engagement, and reads into the failed elopement a more serious moral transgression, the fastidious Knight breaks off their betrothal. Some time afterward, Smith and Knight meet by chance, and 'compare notes.' Both, it seems, still love Elfride, and each determines to try to win her back. They travel to Endelstow only to learn that Elfride has just died, and is mourned by her husband of five months, Lord Luxellian.

The first part of A Pair of Blue Eyes, covering the courtship of Smith and Elfride is very enjoyable, and contains a good deal of humour. The second part, dealing with relationship of Elfride and Knight, is less compelling. Elfride supposedly prefers Knight to Smith because he is the better man, but he really seems a less likable character — even Elfride's father, though not opposing their engagement, warns her that 'men of his turn of mind are nothing so wonderful in the way of husbands' — and I would have to agree. The ending, too, is cynical, and somewhat ambiguous: did Elfride in fact die pining for Knight, or had she perhaps grown to love Lord Luxellian?

Inchbald, Elizabeth

A Simple Story (1791)

A Simple Story could almost be read as two separate novels. The first tells the story of the beautiful young heiress, Miss Milner, who falls in love with her inflexibly principled guardian, Mr. Dorriforth (later Lord Elmwood). There are numerous bars to their union — the foremost being that he is a Catholic priest, who has taken a vow of celibacy, and that she is a coquette whose behaviour repeatedly offends his strict moral code. By the end of Volume II, all obstacles preventing their marriage have been removed, and we are led to assume they will live happily ever after. However, as Volume III opens — seventeen years later — we learn they have not lived happily ever after. Lady Elmwood (nee Milner) is now dying, a fallen woman, and Lord Elmwood has long since cast off both her and their daughter Matilda. Volumes III and IV tell the story of the blameless Matilda's endeavours to win back her implacable father's affection (an uphill struggle to say the least!) But her story does end more happily than her mother's: after many trials, she is finally reconciled with Lord Elmwood, and also gains the heart of his nephew and heir, the lovable Mr. Rushbrook.

Though the characters in A Simple Story sometimes behave in ways that, to my mind, strain credulity, it is well-written, and a more enjoyable read than many other novels written before Jane Austen came along.

Marryat, Frederick

Newton Forster (1832)

A baby is rescued from a shipwreck off the coast of Cumberland, identified only by the initials on her linen. A trick played on a shrewish wife lands her in a lunatic asylum. A young man with a promising career as a merchant sea captain is impressed into the British Navy. A misogynistic lawyer is left the guardian of a young girl. All these threads are woven together, and their interconnections eventually revealed, in this somewhat Dickensian novel. An entertaining story, full of incident and adventure.

Meredith, George

The Ordeal of Richard Feverel (1859)

Betrayed by his wife and best friend, Sir Austin Feverel turns hardened philosopher, and resolves to raise his young son by means of 'scientific' principles of his own formation. According to Sir Austin's 'System', young Richard, if protected from corrupting influences — particularly from the undeserving of the other sex (a group which, by Sir Austin's reckoning, includes most females) — will become 'something approaching to a perfect man'.

As Richard grows, qualities such as pride, selfishness, deviousness, and spite spontaneously arise in his character, calling into question the wisdom of the 'System'. Through the influence of a wise and caring uncle, however, the boy begins to develop into an honest and honourable young man; and all proceeds fairly smoothly until, on the brink of manhood, he suddenly becomes awake to the existence of women.

Sir Austin, hoping to avert what he believes to be a catastrophe waiting to happen, flies off to London to find an ideal mate for his ideal boy. In his absence, unfortunately, Richard meets lovely and worthy but low-born Lucy Desborough, and the two young people promptly fall in love. Sir Austin reflexively opposes the match, and arranges to have Lucy sent away. Richard soon appears to have forgotten her; but meeting her by chance on a visit to London, his passion is instantly rekindled, and he weds her on the sly.

When Sir Austin learns of his son's marriage, he believes Richard has been deceiving him all along. Richard, anxious to win back his father's affection, interrupts his honeymoon on the Isle of Wight and leaves his bride alone while he returns to London to await Sir Austin's promised arrival. Sir Austin, however, stays away. Though really acting out of bitterness, he persuades himself he will teach Richard a necessary lesson by keeping him from his wife and contriving his exposure to all the unsavoury temptations of London. Meanwhile, the bridegroom's seeming friend, Lord Mountfalcon, has conceived a passion for Lucy, and to forward his designs arranges for Richard to be seduced by a beautiful but 'fallen' woman. By the time Sir Austin is finally ready to forgive his errant son and accept his daughter-in-law, Richard's own downfall is complete, and tragedy ensues.

The highly entertaining first two-thirds of this book, by their tone, seem to promise the reader a comedy — and I think Meredith would have judged better had he delivered one. The book's tragic finish ranks among the very worst in Victorian melodrama; it is not only incongruent, but far-fetched. That a young man, married just a few weeks, passionately in love with his bride, and supplied with ample funds to live on (as is the case here), would willingly remain apart from her for months in the hope of reconciling with his father, seems to me utterly implausible.

The great merit of this book lies in its witty ironic tone, which is maintained almost to the end, and in its interesting and amusing characters, particularly the flawed but likable hero, his loving but misguided father, and an assortment of well-drawn supporting players such as Richard's loyal sidekick Ripton, sardonic cousin Adrian, materialistic aunt Doria, sympathetic Lady Blandish, quaint Mrs Berry, and alluring Mrs Mount.

Oliphant, Margaret

The Chronicles of Carlingford series:

'Three or four families in a country village is the very thing to work on,' Jane Austen advised her niece, Anna Austen, in 1814. I don't suppose Margaret Oliphant could have read Austen's letters, or I might think she had this suggestion in mind when she wrote her Chronicles of Carlingford series of novels. In fact, she created the series hoping to match the success of Anthony Trollope's Barshetshire novels. As The Chronicles of Carlingford center so much on the lives of the provincial clergy (and the disputes between 'high church' and 'low church' adherents), it would not be far off to call Oliphant a female Anthony Trollope. In The Chronicles of Carlingford, Oliphant created a collection of interesting characters and stories (some admittedly rather similar to each other), as well as a very appealing setting — where today's reader can find a few hours' pleasant refuge from the noise and bustle of modern life: '...the air was very still in Carlingford, where you could hear the bees in the lime-blossoms as you went to church in the the sunshine. All that world of soft air in which the embowered houses of Grange Lane lay beatified, was breathing sweet of the limes...' (from The Perpetual Curate)

The Doctor's Family (1863)

Young Dr. Rider, trying to establish his medical practice in the newer section of Carlingford, is burdened and harassed by a shiftless and troublesome elder brother Fred, who has taken up residence in his home. Then Fred's equally troublesome wife and three small children — whose existence comes as an unpleasant surprise to the doctor — also arrive in Carlingford, under the supervision of his wife's younger sister Nettie. Though they continually exasperate and anger Dr. Rider, Nettie considers Fred and his family her responsibility, and readily takes charge of their affairs. The doctor finds himself strongly drawn to the indomitable Nettie, but her commitment to her sister's family seems an insuperable obstacle to any possible future happiness between them.

This novella (usually published together with the long short story 'The Rector') is a good introduction to the Carlingford series. It has plot and character elements which are echoed in the longer novel The Perpetual Curate, but there is sufficient variation to give pleasure even to readers already familiar with the latter.

The Perpetual Curate (1864)

Curate Frank Wentworth is impoverished, though a gentleman. He is well-liked in the provincial village of Carlingford, is doing important work with the poor in the 'Wharfside' district of the parish, and is in love with Miss Lucy Wodehouse. However, when Mr. Morgan arrives as the newly-appointed Rector of Carlingford, he resents the extra duties the curate is performing, as he sees it, without proper authority.

To complicate matters, Frank's three aunts, who have the disposal of a family living in their control, install themselves in Carlingford to determine whether they will confer it on their nephew — a matter of some importance to him, because as long as he remains a curate, he cannot afford to marry Lucy. Unfortunately, his Aunt Leonora disapproves of his 'High Church' views, and vows to bestow the living elsewhere unless he changes them. Then a mysterious and disreputable stranger arrives in town, as does Frank's own disreputable brother Jack; the pretty niece of a local shopkeeper disappears; and the virtuous curate suddenly finds himself the target of allegation and scandal — and even Lucy begins to doubt his character.

It was a happy day for me when I first discovered this wonderful novel. Its hero, though likeable and good (as all heroes ought to be), is also wonderfully human, with an inclination to be impatient and irritable when provoked, and an excess of pride which contributes something to the scrape he finds himself in. There's quite a bit of wisdom offered up in The Perpetual Curate, along with plenty of humour, and a dollop of suspense. Memorable supporting characters add to the entertainment, including the three Wentworth aunts, Frank's brother Jack, and the rector's wife, Mrs. Morgan — whose Christian principles of forbearance and self-denial are threatened by the presence of a hideously ugly carpet at the Rectory — and whose mid-life marriage to the Rector, after a ten years' engagement, forms a nice counterpoint to the relationship of Frank and Lucy.

Until it was reissued by Penguin in 1987 as a 'Virago Classic, The Perpetual Curate had been out of print for many years. It ranks with some of the best literature of the nineteenth century, and deserves to be much more widely known than it has been.

Miss Marjoribanks (1866)

In Miss Marjoribanks (pronounced Marchbanks), the eponymous heroine returns from school to live with her widowed father in Carlingford. Her oft-avowed purpose is 'to be a comfort to dear papa.' Her true 'mission' is to reform the pitiable mess that passes for society in Grange Lane (wherein dwells the upper echelon of Carlingford) through her own wise and benevolent leadership. Extremely heavy in irony, the book continually refers to Lucilla Marjoribanks' gift for social politics as 'genius,' and repeatedly describes her efforts in military or imperial terms. In the course of the story, which spans more than a decade, Lucilla gives brilliantly successful dinners, uncovers a mystery, and loses or rejects various eligible suitors (none of whom she loves), before finally realising there is one man she has loved all along.

The back cover of the Penguin Classics edition of Miss Marjoribanks quotes Q.D. Leavis' statement that Lucilla Marjoribanks is "the missing link... between Jane Austen's Emma and George Eliot's Dorothea Brooke, and ‘more entertaining, more impressive and more likeable than either.'" Well, this is quite an overstatement, to be sure (see my review of Charlotte Yonge's The Clever Woman of the Family, below, for my own choice for 'missing link'). Miss Marjoribanks is slightly and superficially akin to Miss Brooke and Miss Woodhouse; but as a work of literature Miss Marjoribanks can hardly be classed with Emma or Middlemarch — nor are Emma or Dorothea likely to be supplanted by Lucilla in the hearts and minds of most readers. Indeed, Lucilla seems two-dimensional by comparison with Austen's and Eliot's heroines — hardly more than a caricature of a woman. Perhaps it was Oliphant's intention to show that when women with brains and abilities are prevented from exercising their talents in any but the narrowest domestic and social spheres, they are reduced to mere caricatures of human beings. In any case, taken on its own terms, Miss Marjoribanks is certainly interesting and entertaining enough to warrant a look.

Trollope, Anthony

Ayala's Angel (1881)

Egbert Dormer is a successful artist with a taste for beautiful things, who treats himself and his family to every indulgence. But when he dies, 'and his pretty things are sold,' they do not bring enough to cover his debts. His two orphaned daughters are therefore left penniless. Lucy, 21, goes to live in the respectable but rather grim and penurious home of her aunt and uncle, the Dossetts. Ayala, 19, is sent to live with a different aunt and uncle, the wealthy Sir Thomas and Lady Tringle.

Lucy is not happy living with the Dossetts, though she believes she can bear with the austere Dossett household better than Ayala could. Lucy is in love with sculptor Isidore Hamel, a friend of her late father - but Hamel is dependent on his own dictatorial father, who lives in Rome and wishes his son to live there with him. There seems little hope that it will ever be in his power to marry Lucy, or that she will ever escape the uncongenial companionship of her stern Aunt Dossett.

Beautiful, headstrong Ayala, like Austen's Marianne Dashwood, has only a romantic ideal of the sort of man she could fall in love with - her 'angel of light,' as she thinks of him. In the course of the story, Ayala attracts three eligible suitors, but it appears none can compare with the hero of her dreams.

Ayala's rich cousin, Tom Tringle, is the first to fall desperately in love with her. Tom is 'stout and awkward-looking, but good-natured and true'. He also has an unfortunate tendency to bedeck himself in an excess of gaudy jewelry. Ayala at first views Tom as something like a large friendly Newfoundland dog; but when his repeated proposals become irksome, she complains to Lady Tringle. Provoked by her aunt's suggestion that she has encouraged Tom, Ayala loses her temper and tells Lady Tringle that her son Tom is a 'stupid lout'. Lady Tringle resolves that Ayala and her sister should switch places; so Lucy comes to live with the Tringles, and Ayala goes to live with the Dossetts.

Visiting some wealthy friends, Ayala next meets Colonel Jonathan Stubbs, whom she finds delightful company, though 'nothing could be more unlike the Angel of Light than Colonel Stubbs,' she declares. Stubbs is a military hero, witty and charming; but he is 'very, very ugly,' with short red hair, a bristly red beard, and an enormous mouth — and his name is so unpoetic! He too falls in love with Ayala, but she rejects his proposal as she had earlier rejected Tom's.

Her third suitor is Captain Batsby. 'I spoke to him once or twice,' she tells her Aunt Dossett when she learns he is coming to call, 'and I did not like him at all.' His proposal is rejected as well.

Meanwhile, Lucy is not much happier with the Tringles than she had been with the Dossetts. By the end of the novel, however, Isidore Hamel has found a way to marry Lucy; and Ayala has found her 'Angel of Light': a man perfect 'in truth and gallantry, in honour, honesty, courage, and real tenderness'.

The inimitable Mr Collins of Pride & Prejudice believed that 'it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time.' I suspect Trollope of harbouring the same idea, as this is not the only Trollope novel in which the heroine rejects the proposal of the man she really loves, and will eventually marry. Ayala's persistence in refusing the 'Angel', once she recognises him as such, seems a little incredible to me - but I'm sure Mr Collins would find her conduct entirely plausible. There were also some subplot elements that added little to the story, and would probably have been better left out. These criticisms aside, I thought Ayala's Angel quite an enjoyable diversion.

Lady Anna (1874)

When the beautiful and well-born but poor and ambitious Josephine Murray marries the irredeemably wicked Earl Lovel, she believes she has at last acquired the wealth and rank she covets. After six months of marriage, however, the villainous Earl informs her their marriage was a sham, and the child she is expecting will be illegitimate: he already has a wife alive and well in Italy. When he returns to that country, Josephine, the would-be Countess, is banished from his estate, and becomes obsessed with proving the validity of her marriage and the legitimacy of her daughter Anna. Though shunned by the Earl's family and by 'society', she is befriended by a tailor named Thomas Thwaite. Over the ensuing years, Thwaite exhausts his own small means to help her and her daughter, and Anna's only playmate and friend, as she grows from childhood to womanhood in poverty, is the tailor's son Daniel.

The Earl eventually dies intestate, and while a distant cousin, the nearest male heir, inherits the late Earl's title and property, the disposal of his enormous fortune is still to be determined. Luckily, the new Earl proves to be a decent young man who wishes to act rightly in the matter. As evidence in favor of the hopeful Countess and her daughter begins to multiply, the lawyers suggest a compromise: the young Earl should marry the young Lady Anna and unite their interests. After meeting lovely Anna, the Earl is delighted to agree to their plan. The Countess, whose one abiding desire has been to establish her daughter in the elevated sphere to which she was born, is also eager to accomplish the match; but unbeknownst to her, Anna has already promised herself to Daniel Thwaite, the tailor's son.

In spite of her attraction to the Earl, and in spite of the inordinate pressures exerted on all sides to induce her to marry him, Anna remains true to her vow. The Countess, driven nearly to madness by the thwarting of all her ambitions, resolves to murder Daniel Thwaite, but fails in the attempt. Anxious to do justice to everyone, Anna makes over half her fortune to the Earl when she comes of age, but, to her mother's abhorrence, she marries Daniel.

Lady Anna is a somewhat unsettling novel, because Trollope chose to make the young Earl handsome and agreeable, and to make Daniel Thwaite, though exceedingly deserving, not always entirely likable. Anna repeatedly affirms her genuine love for Daniel, and Daniel, if not quite even-tempered, does not appear in any way a violent man; but Trollope gives us a sense that her love is founded not only on gratitude but also in some measure on fear: it is stated more than once that she is a little frightened of Daniel. For this reason, as I read the book my opinion as to which man Anna should marry shifted several times. In the end, nonetheless, I was satisfied with her choice.

Charlotte Yonge

The Clever Woman of the Family (1865)

Like Dorothea Brooke of Middlemarch, Rachel Curtis (the 'Clever Woman' of the title) longs to live a more useful and more meaningful life than that generally accorded to young ladies of her station. Like Jane Austen's Emma Woodhouse, Rachel also has an arrogant habit of believing she knows better than anyone else how the world ought to be arranged. She governs her own life foolishly, and with great presumption manipulates the lives of others; and like both Dorothea and Emma, she makes colossal blunders in the process. Her actions, however, unlike Dorothea's, hurt other people more than herself; and unlike Emma's, they result in tragedy as well as comedy. In the course of the story, Rachel is humbled by witnessing the terrible consequences of her terrible errors. With the help of a rather unusual and utterly lovable hero, she becomes a better and a more truly useful person — and learns that she is not nearly so clever as she has always believed herself to be.

A significant subplot involves a satisfying Persuasion-like story of two lovers kept apart by family disapproval and personal misfortune. Now reunited after many years' separation, they endeavour to remove the last remaining obstacles to their happy union.

Like Yonge's other works, this novel has an instructional purpose and a high religious & moral tone. However, in this case I did not find these so oppressive as to interfere at all with my considerable enjoyment of the book. Needless to say, The Clever Woman of the Family is hardly a feminist manifesto — but then, it was the written and set in the Victorian era, when the mere idea that it was not only acceptable, but necessary, for a young woman like Rachel to read and study deeply (as the author quite clearly implies) was pretty radical stuff.

Heartsease (1854)

Pretty, humble, ignorant Violet Moss, barely 16 years old, marries the charming, handsome, but selfish and improvident Arthur Martindale. His upper-crust family at first deplore the match; but Violet is quickly befriended by Arthur's kindhearted brother John; and, over the course of the story, she wins every heart with her sweetness, meekness, and religious faith. For me the real heroine of the book, however, is Arthur's sister, Theodora, whose willfulness, passion, and benevolence make her a much more interesting character than the cloyingly sweet, submissive, and tediously pious Violet. Percy Fotheringham loves Theodora for her 'noble nature,' despite its flaws, and determines to 'tame the shrew'; but he finds, after they become engaged, that her 'besetting sins' are more difficult to correct than he had imagined. They quarrel, and part; and both must come to recognise and conquer their own failings, before they can be happily reunited at the conclusion.

The plot of Heartsease is at times dramatic, encompassing not only family and romantic difficulties, but illness, fire, and money troubles. Many readers will find the heavy-handed religious tone of the book irritating; and I wished all the loose ends could have been tied up, all the deserving singles paired off at the conclusion. A match between the very kind John Martindale (whose first love died years earlier, and who merits consolation for the loss) and Lady Lucy St. Erme; and another between worthy Lord St. Erme and Emma Brandon, would have made the ending more satisfying to me.

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