The Plot:
Lucy Snowe, financially and emotionally bereft, bravely journeys to the town of Villette to offer her services as an English teacher at a girls' boarding school. Here, she coincidentally meets up with old friends; the wealthy Brettons- Godmother, Louisa Bretton, her son, Graham Bretton- now a doctor; and the beautiful and accomplished Paulina, who Lucy had known as a precocious child. Finding partial solace in renewed friendships, Lucy is nonetheless deeply lonely and is acutely distressed by appearences of the ghost of a nun said to be buried beneath the school. The Brettons are caring but rather self-absorbed and often forget her. By the end of Villette, the ghost will be revealed as a childish prank, Graham and Paulina will marry, and Lucy will finally let love into her life in the form of tempestuous colleague, M. Paul, who enables Lucy's financial Independence in the form of her own school. M. Paul's work takes him overseas, but he promises they shall marry when he returns. Tragically; indeed, horribly; he is killed in a shipwreck on this return journey.
The painfully unhappy and socially maligned Lucy Snowe makes something of an anti-heroine for this tale. Her isolation and sense of homelessness throughout Villette is almost palpable, contrasting the smoother, more self-assured narratives of the other characters; namely, the wealthy, accomplished, Paulina, and the close family unit of the Brettons.
Lucy Snowe is a woman trying to make it entirely on her own, and Bronte's tale effectively illustrates the difficulties 19th Century women experienced supporting themselves and finding a place in society.
My favourite part of this novel is a bizarre, dreamlike, scene where Lucy, under the influence of narcotics, leaves the convent at night and wanders the streets of Villette; chancing upon a garishly lit fete.
If you have read Villette you will know how much intense looking, observing, spying, knowing, and 'being known' occurs. These are major themes of this novel, and here, they come to the foreground.
Below, Bronte's sudden change from past tense to present tense takes Lucy's night-time walk into the realm of the fantastical:
I took a route well known, and went up towards the palatial and royal Haute-Ville; thence the music I had heard certainly floated; it was hushed now, but it might re-waken. I went on: neither band nor bell music came to meet me; another sound replaced it, a sound like a strong tide, a great flow, deepening as I proceeded. Light broke, movement gathered, chimes pealed—to what was I coming? Entering on the level of a Grande Place, I found myself, with the suddenness of magic, plunged amidst a gay, living, joyous crowd.
Villette is one blaze, one broad illumination; the whole world seems abroad; moonlight and heaven are banished: the town, by her own flambeaux, beholds her own splendour—gay dresses, grand equipages, fine horses and gallant riders throng the bright streets. I see even scores of masks. It is a strange scene, stranger than dreams.
When Lucy reaches her destination, it seems all notable town characters are decked out for her perusal. Lucy observes them with her usual, hungry, possessive, gaze, from under the cover of a large straw hat. Then, she chances on Graham Bretton, who recognises her but apparently decides she is better left alone. Bronte writes:
Why, if [Graham] would look, did not one glance satisfy him? why did he turn on his chair, rest his elbow on its back, and study me leisurely? He could not see my face, I held it down; surely, he could not recognise me: I stooped, I turned, I would not be known. He rose, by some means he contrived to approach, in two minutes he would have had my secret: my identity would have been grasped between his, never tyrannous, but always powerful hands. There was but one way to evade or to check him. I implied, by a sort of supplicatory gesture, that it was my prayer to be let alone; after that, had he persisted, he would perhaps have seen the spectacle of Lucy incensed: not all that was grand, or good, or kind in him (and Lucy felt the full amount) should have kept her quite tame, or absolutely inoffensive and shadowlike. He looked, but he desisted. He shook his handsome head, but he was mute.
Throughout this novel, Lucy's invisibility to others is a key part of her loneliness and isolation. Dismissed by pupils and colleagues alike as an eccentric foreigner, there are few characters in this novel who really 'see' Lucy for who she is. Graham is not one of them. However, the above excerpt also makes clear Lucy's comfort in invisibility, and indicates that perhaps she is a co-conspirator in her social isolation.
An important character who does 'see' Lucy, is M. Miret, a local bookseller and friend of M. Paul, who, as a resepected member of the community, is key to the eventual success of Lucy's school.
Strange to say, this man knew me under my straw-hat and closely-folded shawl; and, though I deprecated the effort, he insisted on making a way for me through the crowd, and finding me a better situation. He carried his disinterested civility further; and, from some quarter, procured me a chair. Once and again, I have found that the most cross-grained are by no means the worst of mankind; nor the humblest in station, the least polished in feeling. This man, in his courtesy, seemed to find nothing strange in my being here alone; only a reason for extending to me, as far as he could, a retiring, yet efficient attention. Having secured me a place and a seat, he withdrew without asking a question, without obtruding a remark, without adding a superfluous word.
Miret not only easily recognises Lucy, but is also unconcerned at her strange clothes and lack of escort. His actions of fetching her a chair and making room for her amongst the townspeople are cited by critics as symbolic of Lucy's acceptance by the community of Villette.
The ending of Villette is perhaps the most disturbing aspect of Lucy's long, difficult, journey. Bronte renders this part of the novel oddly ambiguous. Possibly aiming to soften the tragedy of her conclusion, she urges readers to:
"trouble no quiet, kind heart; leave sunny imaginations hope... Let them picture a union and a happy succeeding life."
While holding no illusions regarding M. Paul's survival, I refuse to think of Villette's ending as all doom and gloom. Lucy's school is successful, and she is accepted into the community. And perhaps a future suitor looms on the horizon in the form of M. Miret, who Lucy describes as very similar to M. Paul, and who evidently respects and likes her.
In any case, a 'happy ending' already exists in the triumph of Lucy's achievements; she has found a means of supporting herself, and secured a position in society.
2 comments:
I thought to quote my favorite parts of Villette:
"If life be a war, it seemed my destiny to conduct it single-handed. I pondered now how to break up my winter-quarters--to leave an encampment where food and forage failed. Perhaps, to effect this change, another pitched battle must be fought with fortune; if so, I had a mind to the encounter: too poor to lose, God might destine me to gain. But what road was open?--what plan available?"
And:
"That goodly river on whose banks I had sojourned, of whose waves a few reviving drops had trickled to my lips, was bending to another course: it was leaving my little hut and field forlorn and sand-dry, pouring its wealth of
waters far away. The change was right, just, natural; not a word could be said: but I loved my Rhine, my Nile; I had almost worshipped my Ganges, and I grieved that the grand tide should roll estranged, should vanish like a false mirage. Though stoical, I was not quite a stoic; drops streamed fast on my hands, on my desk: I wept one sultry shower, heavy and brief."
I think I am going to have to read that book.
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