February '10 Reading: Villette by Charlotte Bronte

It's a little uncanny, but from my first reading of this book's beginning chapters, I have had a sense that the heroine is presented similiarly to the heroine in the book by Charlotte's sister, Anne Bronte - "Agnes Gray". It might be that I see the similarity in the quiet, solitary demeaner of Lucy and she is much like Agnes in her independent way of going out in the world on her own. I have not gotten very far but I read somewhere - perhaps on the back of my book jacket - that this book was written after the death of Charlotte's two sisters, at a time she was trying to come to terms with her own family loss and grief. In some sense the tone of the book would make more sense to me now considering the mood that Charlotte may have been in while writing the book.

I just thought I would throw that out there for now. As I said, I really haven't gotten any further with my reading. I was feeling well last night and could not progress. Maybe tonight I can get in a few more chapters.

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Originally Posted by Dark Muse

I think that can be seen here with Lucy and the way she tell the story as well as the way she reflects upon herself and her situation. She doesn't bring a lot of emotion into the things that happen to her, or the choices she makes.

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You're right that she doesn't bring a lot emotion to her life, but, at the same time, she doesn't bring a lot of volition or self-reflection to it either. The narrator to these opening chapters is certainly not feminine, but nor is it masculine. It's rather blank. Lucy places her attention on others rather than herself, which is rather odd for the start of a bildungsroman. Even self-effacing narrators like Ester Summerson in Bleak House start their novels by centering on themselves. Villette, though, starts with Polly and London. Lucy defines herself in opposition to these more solid entities.

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Originally Posted by Dark Muse

She refers to this inner voice both when she acquired her situation with Miss Marchmont and than Madame Beck. In way it is as if she doesn't give herself credit for her own actions and choices.

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I think that scene has a lot to do with the Romantic notion of personality, which claims that our identity is buried deep within ourselves and can only be gradually unfolded. Lucy goes out alone and sees a reflection of that personality in nature. This idea of self is a little different from our contemporary understanding of what it means to be a person. Today, we tend to view ourselves in terms of behavior and decisions, but nineteenth-century Romanticism took our day-to-day choices and actions as perversions of our inner personality. To discover that personality, one had to go out alone into nature like Lucy does in this scene. I wouldn't say, then, that she doesn't give herself any credit for her actions here. In fact, I might say that this is closest she gets to actually defining herself as a character. Here, we learn how she views herself--in a rather Romantic way, as it turns out. Yet this is a brief scene. Most of these first chapters--as I have been saying--is about other characters. What's happening to these other characters will eventually have something to do with her life. In many ways, these first scene are ominous foreboding of what's to come. But, nonetheless, they don't really say anything directly about Lucy.

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Originally Posted by Janine

I have had a sense that the heroine is presented similiarly to the heroine in the book by Charlotte's sister, Anne Bronte - "Agnes Gray".

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Oh, it's been so long since I've looked at that one.

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Originally Posted by Janine

In some sense the tone of the book would make more sense to me now considering the mood that Charlotte may have been in while writing the book.

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That's interesting. I hadn't really thought of the biographical angle, but there probably are some echoes of what's going on in Charlotte's life in the novel.


Oh, and everyone should go vote for Under the Greenwood Tree in the Valentine's Day Poll: http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=50489 Just a couple more votes and we should win!

I just managed to start reading this online. Funny though, Janine, I'd been curious just yesterday and today about audio books online, and it so happens you mention a site...I'll try it out!

How do I join this forum? I'm plowing through the book as fast as I can.

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Originally Posted by Quark

You're right that she doesn't bring a lot emotion to her life, but, at the same time, she doesn't bring a lot of volition or self-reflection to it either. The narrator to these opening chapters is certainly not feminine, but nor is it masculine. It's rather blank. Lucy places her attention on others rather than herself, which is rather odd for the start of a bildungsroman. Even self-effacing narrators like Ester Summerson in Bleak House start their novels by centering on themselves. Villette, though, starts with Polly and London. Lucy defines herself in opposition to these more solid entities.

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I have to say, I think that Lucy not showing much emotion becomes more understandable after reading the chapter about Madame Beck, who does act as a sort of role model to Lucy, and I found particuarly interesting these passage in which Lucy is decribing her:

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I have seen her _feelings_
appealed to, and I have smiled in half-pity, half-scorn at the
appellants. None ever gained her ear through that channel, or swayed
her purpose by that means. On the contrary, to attempt to touch her
heart was the surest way to rouse her antipathy, and to make of her a
secret foe. It proved to her that she had no heart to be touched: it
reminded her where she was impotent and dead. Never was the
distinction between charity and mercy better exemplified than in her.
While devoid of sympathy, she had a sufficiency of rational
benevolence: she would give in the readiest manner to people she had
never seen--rather, however, to classes than to individuals. "Pour les
pauvres," she opened her purse freely--against _the poor man_, as
a rule, she kept it closed. In philanthropic schemes for the benefit
of society at large she took a cheerful part; no private sorrow
touched her: no force or mass of suffering concentrated in one heart
had power to pierce hers. Not the agony in Gethsemane, not the death
on Calvary, could have wrung from her eyes one tear.

I say again, Madame was a very great and a very capable woman. That
school offered her for her powers too limited a sphere; she ought to
have swayed a nation: she should have been the leader of a turbulent
legislative assembly. Nobody could have browbeaten her, none irritated
her nerves, exhausted her patience, or over-reached her astuteness. In
her own single person, she could have comprised the duties of a first
minister and a superintendent of police. Wise, firm, faithless;
secret, crafty, passionless; watchful and inscrutable; acute and
insensate--withal perfectly decorous--what more could be desired?

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Lucy has a great admiration for Madame Beck whom is portrayed as a woman who does not let her own emotions get in the way of her judgement. She is seen as a woman who can be generous and good, and yet in a way that is completely rationalized.

Lucy believes her strong for the very reason that she won't allow her emotions to be appealed to, or to rule her decision for her. And when Madame Beck requests Lucy to take over the teaching of the class, the very thing that gives Lucy the courage to do it is the fact that Madame Beck does not offer her sympathy or emphasize with her, but instead demands of her resolute strength. She expects Lucy to take command of herself, and not have to be led by the hand.

And regarding the fact that Lucy seems to define herself only in her opposition to others around her, we have to remember she is still quite young, not even 20 yet, and never really had the luxury of being able to try and define who she is as an individual, she is at an age, being still a teenager when most people are still in the process of trying to figure out who they are, and she is thrust in the position of having to go out and find the means to support herself without the benefit of often having the company of others her own age. So I think considering her age and her circumstances it is natural that she is seeing herself through others, and does not yet have a solid idea of who she truly is as an individual.

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Originally Posted by Mayfly

How do I join this forum? I'm plowing through the book as fast as I can.

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You can join in the discussion anytime you like, Mayfly. :)

Dark Muse> She is actually older; in the chapter "Fete" it is revealed that she is 23 now.

*** SPOILER ***

Stop reading if you have not read at least 1/3 of the book.

So, thought my theory that Isidore=Guide was out of the window but then again now Isidore = Doctor = Guide.

"All too many coincidences," I was thinking but now she opened her eyes in her Godmother's house???

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Originally Posted by Scheherazade

B]Dark Muse>[/B] She is actually older; in the chapter "Fete" it is revealed that she is 23 now.

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Perhaps she gets older as the book progresses but I did not think she was that old to start out with, and I haven't advanced that far yet.

But I thought someone here mentioned that she was like 14 years old, though they could have been mistaken.

She was 14 when she stayed at her Godmother's but not when she gets employed at the school... During her first year there, she is 22-23.

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Originally Posted by Scheherazade

She was 14 when she stayed at her Godmother's but not when she gets employed at the school... During her first year there, she is 22-23.

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Ahh ok, even so that is farily young, and particuarly considering the circumstances of the life she had, I do not find it that unusual that she dosen't have a clear idea of her own idenity, and has difficulty defining herself on her own terms.

A trivial question I guess, but what do you all think about the French that's in the book? If I was learning French, it'd be great and I realise it needs some to set the scene and atmosphere, as, obviously, it's set in France; but I keep having to flick to the back for the translations.

I'm enjoying it so far though, I don't really have anything else to add to the conversation at the mo.:redface:

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Originally Posted by Veho

A trivial question I guess, but what do you all think about the French that's in the book? If I was learning French, it'd be great and I realise it needs some to set the scene and atmosphere, as, obviously, it's set in France; but I keep having to flick to the back for the translations.

I'm enjoying it so far though, I don't really have anything else to add to the conversation at the mo.:redface:

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I think that at the time it was written it was probably more common that Bronte's audieance would have understood the French and it would not really have been thought much of.

I just wish my edition of the book had foot notes or end notes to translate for me. For me it gets annoying becasue I have no idea what is being said.

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Originally Posted by Scheherazade

Agreed.

What do you think of Isidore? Just started that chapter... Is he the guy who guided Lucy on her first night there?.

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I have to admit that at first I thought Isidore was made up by Ginevera and she just wanted something to brag about or a story to tell, because of the fact that she gave him a false name, and was so vague about talking about him.

I have to say I have mixed feeling in regards to Ginevra on the one hand in person I do not think she is the sort of person I would like but as a character I cannot help but find her amusing and charming in her own way, even if I generally disagree with her actions and decision, and her materialism.

It is kind of funny, though I cannot explain it, but though if I were in Lucy's positions I would have no doubt agreed with everything she said about Ginevra and Isidore, I couldn't help but be annoyed with Lucy for being so harsh toward Ginevra perhaps because I don't like people who impose their own morality on others, and because I felt that Isidore was allowing himself to be mislead by his own foolishness and someone more clever would have seen through Ginevra.

Though she was flirtatious and misleading Isidore I do not think she truly gave him any outright false promises, she just allows him to admire her. I do not agree with what she is doing but on the other hand I think Isidore is allowing himself to be deluded by her.

On the other hand, I can also understand where Lucy is coming from considering her own life experience. She has had to work to earn everything she has, and had to rely upon herself and make her own living, so she never had the luxury of someone else flipping the bill for her. I can see where thus seeing such waste and excessiveness would anger her, as well as the idea of someone else being finically taken advantage of. She understands the necessity for reasonability and the true value of money.

I just read about Dr. John and I cannot help but wonder if he keeps coming back to the house even though he knows Desire's illness is a farse because he admires Lucy, or because he admires Madame Beck. I cannot recall if it said how old Madame Beck was, but her children seem to be fairly young, and women tended to have children at a rather early age back then, so I would not think she would be that old.

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Originally Posted by Dark Muse

I think that at the time it was written it was probably more common that Bronte's audieance would have understood the French and it would not really have been thought much of.

I just wish my edition of the book had foot notes or end notes to translate for me. For me it gets annoying becasue I have no idea what is being said.

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If there's anything in particular that you really want to know what was said, I can post it on here from my edition.

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Originally Posted by Veho

If there's anything in particular that you really want to know what was said, I can post it on here from my edition.

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I will keep that in mind if I come acorss something that I feel I really want to know.

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Originally Posted by Dark Muse

I just read about Dr. John and I cannot help but wonder if he keeps coming back to the house even though he knows Desire's illness is a farse because he admires Lucy, or because he admires Madame Beck. I cannot recall if it said how old Madame Beck was, but her children seem to be fairly young, and women tended to have children at a rather early age back then, so I would not think she would be that old.

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I never thought that... Expected him to be involved in one of the girls and some drama over this.

I agree with the French sections spoiling the reading flow.

I don't want to spoil it for anyone but I just want to say:

Ha! I knew we could not trust Lucy as a narrator! :p

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Originally Posted by Dark Muse

I have to say, I think that Lucy not showing much emotion becomes more understandable after reading the chapter about Madame Beck, who does act as a sort of role model to Lucy, and I found particuarly interesting these passage in which Lucy is decribing her:

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From what I remember of the book, I think you're right. In my earlier post, I was just commenting on how Bronte establishes Lucy's character in the first six or seven chapters. That's as far as I've gotten in my rereading.

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Ha! I knew we could not trust Lucy as a narrator!

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Scher, which chapter were you on when you posted that? :)

I've read this book several times. One of my favourites!

I just have to say I thought the chapter called The Casket was beautiful. It had some of the most poetic and appealing prose work. Perhaps I enjoyed it so much because of the touch of gloominess and darkness and the descriptions of the night, and the forbidden pathway. But I could quote just about that entire chapter.

And in reading those moments with her nightly seclusion in the gardens I really felt connected to Lucy.

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Originally Posted by mona amon

Scher, which chapter were you on when you posted that? :)

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It was right after she falls ill after visiting the Church and later on confesses certain things about the people she knew.

What do you make of the fact that she gets locked up in the attic?

And I was wondering when we would get to meet Polly again... Too many coincidences for my liking. :rolleyes:

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Too many coincidences for my liking.

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Ha, Scher, I'm guessing you haven't yet read Jane Eyre! :D Outrageously unlikely coincidences are a part of most of Charlotte's plots.

The thing I find interesting about the book is the way in which Lucy finds herself thrust into these positions which takes her completely out of her comfort zone and forces her into a role which is opposing to her usual nature. I think in this way there is some interesting ways of exploring identity, and perhaps identity confusion, and the process of shaping ones identify.

For starts there is the moment in which Lucy is placed for the first time as a teacher within the classroom of unruly students. While she is seen during the book as being passive as least in her dealings with other people, always withdrawn to herself watching everyone else without becoming actively involved. She finds herself placed in a position in which she must be actively aggressive, she is the center of attention, and must take command and dominate over others, and can no longer take a back seat but as to assert herself with her students.

Then there is the interesting parallel with the Fete in which she spends the day trying to seek some quite place and solitude and stay away form all the hustle and bustle, and makes a point of acquiring a dress that is rather low key and somewhat drab in comparison to the others around her, and yet she is quite literally pushed into the position of center stage as she finds herself taking on the role of the play. And is put before the eyes of everyone else in a display.

And of course, more than that, it cannot be ignored the gender role reversal she also must take on in playing the part of a man. I found that whole scene rather suggestive in which Lucy must act the role of a man whom is trying to woo Ginevra, particularly the scene in which Lucy actively starts to try and rival with Dr. John for Ginvera's attention when she notices that Ginevera is acting to Dr. John, Lucy thus begins to vie for Ginerva's affections and out do Dr. John.

I have to admit that there were moments within the book in which I had expected Lucy to have at least some leanings towards women, so it was quite interesting seeing Bronte at least comically play that role out. And it is curious to explore the possibility that Lucy is so harsh with Ginevera because Lucy is in fact jealous of Ginevra's admirers.

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Originally Posted by mona amon

Ha, Scher, I'm guessing you haven't yet read Jane Eyre! :D Outrageously unlikely coincidences are a part of most of Charlotte's plots.

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Read it so many years ago that I am hoping to reread it again some time soon (I nominated it for the Valentine's Day reading but no chance).

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Originally Posted by Dark Muse

The thing I find interesting about the book is the way in which Lucy finds herself thrust into these positions which takes her completely out of her comfort zone and forces her into a role which is opposing to her usual nature.

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In some of these scenes when things were "forced" on her, I could not help wondering how sincere she was being with us.

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I have to admit that there were moments within the book in which I had expected Lucy to have at least some leanings towards women, so it was quite interesting seeing Bronte at least comically play that role out. And it is curious to explore the possibility that Lucy is so harsh with Ginevera because Lucy is in fact jealous of Ginevra's admirers.

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Again, we have to rely on Lucy's own account and openness throughout the book and I think we should not expect her to be objective all together and, interestingly, she seems to be growing more and more honest towards the end of the book (Still haven't finished; 1/5 left to be read still).

Graham, Graham, Graham... M. Paul, M.Paul, M.Paul... :rolleyes:

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Originally Posted by Scheherazade

It was right after she falls ill after visiting the Church and later on confesses certain things about the people she knew.

What do you make of the fact that she gets locked up in the attic?

And I was wondering when we would get to meet Polly again... Too many coincidences for my liking. :rolleyes:

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I was quite shocked at first when she was locked in the attic. To say the least that seemed like a rather extreme method of getting her to learn her lines. It was perhaps a moment of transition for her, a way perhaps to let go of her identity, so she could take on the role.

It is interesting in considering the previous discussions about how she seems to define herself through opposition of the other people she is around and meets, she sees herself based upon her juxtapositions to other people. So in the moment when she is in the attic, she is secluded from that, she is with only herself and she must adapt this new role of which she is uncomfortable with.

There is a lot of identity structuring, and seeking which takes place within the book, as well as questions and challenges of identity particularly considering the character of Graham who becomes Dr. John, and is initially reintroduced to Lucy as simply a helpful stranger when she arrives within the new city. And is dubbed as "Isidore" by Ginevra.

I was a bit bothered by the illness scene. It just seems to me to be so out of place. Lucy seems the least likely person whom would suddenly succumb to "weak nerves" and it is a bit of a contradiction in her character that she spends so much time seeking her own seclusion, that when she is left alone she suddenly has this strange sort of nervous breakdown. Yet she was able to cross the ocean into a completely unknown country with no future prospects and knowing no one or even the language.

Perhaps it is a breaking point in Lucy's struggles with her identity, or perhaps it is a mark of all that she had kept to herself, and the emotion of which she had previously kept concealed within her.

Haha my theory is Polly is Ginevera :lol:

Finished this yesterday and what a let down at the end... It just does not seem fair too me.

Ho-hum.

I cannot figure out how to quote, but I refer to a discussion by Dark Muse about Lucy's crisis.
I believe that that crisis could have been shared by Charlotte Bronte.
I think that both Lucy and
charlotte might have been up a tree.
There is Lucy, utterly alone, with no friend that can match her intelligence and discernment, and there is no way out in sight. The seems that it is necessary to place Lucy within the sphere of Dr. John , who is her social superior. Bronte also has to get from the bleak dormitory to reintroducing Polly, who a complicated person. And of course, this is within the length of a book.
And so there is a crisis where everything is out of Lucy's control, and anything can happen. The plot can advance.
I realize that I sound cynical, bout I am truly enjoying the book an I am not cynical about it at all. I don't begrudge a plot device, but if it is so, I find it interesting.

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Originally Posted by Mayfly

I cannot figure out how to quote, but I refer to a discussion by Dark Muse about Lucy's crisis.
I believe that that crisis could have been shared by Charlotte Bronte.
I think that both Lucy and
charlotte might have been up a tree.
There is Lucy, utterly alone, with no friend that can match her intelligence and discernment, and there is no way out in sight. The seems that it is necessary to place Lucy within the sphere of Dr. John , who is her social superior. Bronte also has to get from the bleak dormitory to reintroducing Polly, who a complicated person. And of course, this is within the length of a book.
And so there is a crisis where everything is out of Lucy's control, and anything can happen. The plot can advance.
I realize that I sound cynical, bout I am truly enjoying the book an I am not cynical about it at all. I don't begrudge a plot device, but if it is so, I find it interesting.

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To quote another person, all you have to do is click on the icon that says "quote" at the end of each person's post.

And back to the story. I understand where you are coming from, and in thinking of it that way, it does make sense that Lucy's crisis was needed as a way to advance the story further. While I am enjoying the book, and think some of the prose is beautiful, perhaps Bronte did back herself up into a corner and needed a way in which to break free and advance the story forward.

It does feel out of character to suddenly give Lucy a breakdown in nerves, but as you have indicated it was the only way to lift her out of that solitude of the dormitory, allow her feelings to come out more, and allow for her revelation of Graham = Dr. John, and put the two of them in each other's way, as it were.

I was intrigued by the Cleopatra painting which was described in the chapter "Cleopatra" because of my interest in art, I have a habit of always wanting to look up allusions to art and artists and see the work myself. At first I thought the painting sounded Pre-Raphealite, and so I scoured my sources for anything that I thought might provide a possible resemblance to the painting indicated in the book, but I came up with nothing that bore close enough of a resemblance.

Well I could not at this point let the subject go and was quite determined to try and track the painting down, and did some research on the Internet, and found an article which suggested that the painting within Villette may have been molded after an image of an Egyptian dancing girl called "Une Alme" by Edouard De Biefve

So I then of coruse looked up the image, so here is the possibly inspiration for Bronte's Cleoptra painting

http://www.belly-dance.org/prenten/almeh_1842.jpg

Ha, my guess even though it was done as a jest, was not that far off. Polly is the cousin of Ginevra, for some reason there was something about Ginevera that made me think of Polly and I sensed some connection between the two of them.

Dark Muse, although Charlotte did see that picture you posted at an exhibition in Brussels, it does not seem to fit the "Cleopatra" described by her, and it's been suggested that the large scale, the nudity, the daylight, and jumble of objets d'art in the painting more closely resemble the works of seventeenth century painters like Rubens. Charlotte had considered a career as an artist at one time, and had spent a lot of time studying paintings.

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And back to the story. I understand where you are coming from, and in thinking of it that way, it does make sense that Lucy's crisis was needed as a way to advance the story further. While I am enjoying the book, and think some of the prose is beautiful, perhaps Bronte did back herself up into a corner and needed a way in which to break free and advance the story forward.

It does feel out of character to suddenly give Lucy a breakdown in nerves, but as you have indicated it was the only way to lift her out of that solitude of the dormitory, allow her feelings to come out more, and allow for her revelation of Graham = Dr. John, and put the two of them in each other's way, as it were. ~ Dark Muse

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Lucy having a breakdown and doing nutty things doesn't seem out of character to me, but I've read the book several times, so mine are not first impressions. She seeks seclusion because she isn't able to connect with anyone there, except Ginevra to a certain extent, but at the same time she's desperately lonely. I'll wait till everyone finishes before discussing further.

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Originally Posted by mona amon

Dark Muse, although Charlotte did see that picture you posted at an exhibition in Brussels, it does not seem to fit the "Cleopatra" described by her, and it's been suggested that the large scale, the nudity, the daylight, and jumble of objets d'art in the painting more closely resemble the works of seventeenth century painters like Rubens. Charlotte had considered a career as an artist at one time, and had spent a lot of time studying paintings.

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I do not think that the painting Lucy sees within the book is in fact an acutal painting but rather Bronte made up the image based upon the Egyptian dancer image. She took the idea of the Egyptian Dancer and transformed it into the Cleopatra rather than alluding to an acutal painting within the story.

From what I have read the Egyptian Dancer painting did cause quite the fuss and scandal in its time when it was first shown.

It could have been a combination of things. The image of the Egyptian Dancer might first of given her the Cleopatra inspiration, and she set that basic image into the more Rubenesque backgrop and style to create the vision which Lucy encounters.

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Originally Posted by mona amon

Lucy having a breakdown and doing nutty things doesn't seem out of character to me, but I've read the book several times, so mine are not first impressions. She seeks seclusion because she isn't able to connect with anyone there, except Ginevra to a certain extent, but at the same time she's desperately lonely. I'll wait till everyone finishes before discussing further.

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It seems to me that Lucy's loneliness does not display itself until after she has her nervous break down. Prior to the breakdown there is nothing within Lucy's character which would suggest she would be prone to be of such erratic emotion and weak mind. She appears to be a reasonable and sensible person.

But once she has her first breakdown, it seems the dam breaks so to speak and she starts to become much more hypersensitive and begins acting irrationally.

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Originally Posted by Scheherazade

Finished this yesterday and what a let down at the end... It just does not seem fair too me.

Ho-hum.

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In what way do you mean?

I felt let down too. I'd gone through 500 pages and then that happened, right at the end!

Hey there everyone. I received an email with some juicy comments about Villette and Bronte in the book of the month blog, but I can't seem to find them here to respond. I am not a regular, and find myself truly disappointed that I neglected my membership for so long that I missed this discussion. Villette will be my March book of the month and I will have my comments to keep to myself.

In the meantime, can anyone tell me where I might find those other comments from the email newsletter? I particularly enjoyed the one by the sisters who wondered why Bronte's heroines are homely. I hadn't noticed, but will enjoy this observation as I read Villette.

Thank you for all for your inspiration. I get a bit stuck in a rut with my reading. This might pull me out and was the reason I joined to begin with.

Dish

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Originally Posted by Veho

In what way do you mean?

I felt let down too. I'd gone through 500 pages and then that happened, right at the end!

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I have to say personally I quite liked the ending. Particularly for a book of that time period, it was a refreshing change from the usual, expected, and predictable ending in which everyone ends up happily married off and the heroine gets her prince charming and those that tried to impeded them all get their just deserts and Happily Every After.

Most Victorian era books have very idyllic, sentimental and fairy tale like endings, so I quite enjoyed Charlotte Bronte's boldness in the rather daring end which she offered to the story, that did not necessarily wrap everything up all nice and neat.

All in all I quite thoroughly enjoyed this book.