Marcella

by Mrs. Humphry Ward

Marcella, young and with a new-womanly independence, has a yearning to help the poor. When a gamekeeper is murdered near where she lives, Marcella finds herself at odds with her wealthy fiancé over beliefs about property and justice. The discovery leads Marcella to pursue―among other things―a career in nursing. In settings ranging from village cottages, London slums and hospital wards to fashionable drawing rooms and the Ladies’ Gallery of the Houses of Parliament, the book combines a gripping story with serious issues―socialism, rural and urban poverty, poaching laws, journalistic ethics, the Woman Question―inspiring critics to liken Marcella to George Eliot’s novels. The Broadview Literary Texts edition records the substantive differences between the two major editions published during Ward’s lifetime, and included among the many appendices are news accounts of the murder trial and executions that inspired the novel, and previously unpublished letters by Ward. Mary Augusta Ward has traditionally been known as Mrs. Humphry Ward.

Genres: Classics, Fiction, 19th Century, Victorian, British Literature, Novels, Literature

612 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1894

About the author

Mary Augusta Ward CBE (nee Arnold) was an English novelist who wrote under her married name as Mrs. Humphry Ward. Mary Augusta Arnold was born in Hobart, Tasmania, Australia, into a prominent intellectual family of writers and educationalists. Mary was the daughter of Tom Arnold, a professor of literature, and Julia Sorrell. Her uncle was the poet Matthew Arnold and her grandfather Thomas Arnold, the famous headmaster of Rugby School. Her sister Julia married Leonard Huxley, the son of Thomas Huxley, and their sons were Julian and Aldous Huxley. The Arnolds and the Huxleys were an important influence on British intellectual life.Mary's father Tom Arnold was appointed inspector of schools in Van Diemen's Land (now Tasmania) and commenced his role on 15 January 1850. Tom Arnold was received into the Roman Catholic Church on 12 January 1856, which made him so unpopular in his job (and with his wife) that he resigned and left for England with his family in July 1856. Mary Arnold had her fifth birthday the month before they left, and had no further connection with Tasmania. Tom Arnold was ratified as chair of English literature at the contemplated Catholic university, Dublin, after some delay. Mary Augusta Ward died in London, England, and was interred at Aldbury in Hertfordshire, near her beloved country home Stocks.

Reviews

[Luke · Rating 5 out of 5]

The theory of the 'living wage,' of which more recent days have heard so much, was preached in other terms, but with equal vigour[.]

All care for the human being under the present state of things is economically unsound.

This is the link between E.M. Forster and Jane Austen that I didn't know I needed: more specifically, between Howard's End and Persuasion. The prose is beautiful, the narrative nicely balances between descriptive imagery and intellectual discourse, the sentences go for as short or as long as they need to, and the characters are drawn so well that, even when the author veers against their ideological build later on, she set them up too well to ruin them. All of this makes for the rare romance that is substantial enough in its conflicts, negotiations, and resolutions to rank with the best in my experience, and if you've stuck around for long enough, you know how I typically feel about what can so easily devolve into heterosexual nonsense. If that sounds like it would make for an easy sell, I have to say that, unfortunately, that is not the case. This work is far more explicit about the wider machinations of sociopolitical development in the three works' shared country of setting than the other two, and the strength lies not in the author's own overt biases, but in how her quality writing transcends it. That is what inevitably happens when an author is concerned with individual mores and ethical concerns on the larger backdrop of a true and abiding investment in the dialectic that doesn't shy away from less polite social questions. I'll admit to the plot lagging at certain points, and Mary Augusta Ward does make her job simpler through a strategic confinement of the scene to such a comfortable view of the rich, the poor, and their various ideological stratifications that it makes it easier for a reader to unabashedly love. Still, Virago Modern Classics (VMC) is a publication to which I am instinctively drawn, and this work has given me great reason to continue in that vein.

Few people had at the bottom of their souls a more scornful distrust of the 'masses' than the man whose one ambition at the present moment was to be the accepted leader of English labour.

Once let it come to any real attack on property, and you will see where all these Socialist theories will be. And of course it will not be we—not the landowners or the capitalists—who will put it down. It will be the hundreds and thousands of people with something to lose—a few pounds in a joint-stock mill, a house of their own built through a co-operative store, an acre or two of land stocked by their own savings—it is they, I am afraid, who will put Miss Boyce's friends down so far as they represent any real attack on property—ad brutally, too, I fear, if need be.

I've already mentioned two great Anglo works that this book shares in terms of theme, but it doesn't hurt to throw out Middlemarch for Dorothea Brooks and North and South for the overarching plot coupled with social concerns. The book is meatier than both of them due to the more active grip it has on politics, and much as that is a common turn off for the majority of readers, I imagine this is even more uncomfortable for the typical liberal who views voting as the one and only defense against fascism. For if Marcella is the "heroine," (one whom the author isn't afraid of critiquing at the very end), Wharton is the "hero", and the trajectory of his political aspirations is a mirror to modern society's preference for the well-spoken, rightfully classed leader over even the mere concept of a union of those who are supposedly in need of leading. It's rather obvious that this is not what Ward intended, and indeed, she'd be rather frustrated with my refusal to follow her directions of sympathy when it comes to characters and their respective methods of fighting for the future. As I mentioned, though, that's what can happen when characters attain a life of their own, whether through description of action, thought, or speech. Much has changed since Ward wrote her humane but complacent view of social action back in the decade of the fin-de-siècle, and yet I find much of what is fought for today printed here, long before the typical history textbook tends to admit to. That, and the evocative sensory descriptions, the interplay of myriad relationships with very little tokenizing (or, at any rate, unsuccessful tokenizing), the ideas that, unlike a many a far more popular and lauded classic, are firmly rooted in reality's concerns instead of some superman's ego, make this borderline a pleasure read for me, or at least one that I was able to find a certain amount of pleasure both complex and instinctive for the first time in a long time. I'm also ridiculously susceptible to P&P styled emotional constipation pairings if it's done right, so have that as a measure of far less professional appraisal.

'You think,' said Marcella slowly, 'that to live among the poor can teach anyone—anyone that's human—to be content!'

[T]he only words that even her wild spirit could find wherewith to sustain this woman through the moments of her husband's death were words of prayer—the old shuddering cries wherewith the human soul from the beginning has thrown itself on that awful encompassing Life whence it issued, and whither it returns.

My favorite book sale's been postponed for another month and, when it does come back, is going to be very much more of a "pay-per-view" situation than it's ever been, so I'm in an admittedly petty mood at the moment regarding my state's comparative slowness on the whole "opening up" matter. When I am allowed to finally return to my favored method of dedicated, in the flesh browsing, my haphazard methods of purchasing and tendency towards hoarding will be even more intensified than they already were, and after this work, anything with the distinctive VMC green is probably going to be picked up, no questions asked. I have to say, the titular character's belief systems, while fruitful through her reaching out to and support of others, barely made sense at the end, and shying away from the fact that Ward campaigned against women's suffrage isn't going to do any potential readers any favors. I suppose, to put it bluntly, this is why I couple the concept of quality writing to a lack of relying on stereotypes: when the drawing of different humans is so true to form in their individual quibbles, misconceptions, ideals, sensitivities, and compassion, the reader no longer needs to rely so much on the author's choices in rhetoric when it comes to making their own decisions. In Ward's case, this required a great deal of less than active writing, so, much as it would thrill me, I don't think a visual adaptation of this work would convey a tenth of the heartfelt loveliness I found, leastwise not with the amount of effort that is usually allotted to a typical 19th c. British period drama these days. For now, I write this review, and while this isn't a favorite (yet), I wouldn't mind investing in an especially nice edition when the time is appropriate. This is comfort read material, and I can count the number of books for which this is the case for me on two hands.

Human helplessness, human agony—set against the careless joy of nature—there is no new way of feeling these things. But not to have felt them, and with the mad, impotent passion and outcry which filled Marcella's heart at this moment, is never to have risen to the full stature of our kind.

[Bryn Hammond · Rating 5 out of 5]

Almost as if Middlemarch were late enough in the century (Marcella published 1894) to deal explicitly with Socialist and anti-capitalist currents. Dorothea and her village improvement projects become Marcella and her projects towards equity and even equality for the villages of her estate, breaking off her engagement to a Tory over a class-ridden local case of capital punishment.

Ward's politics are stacked. The Tory and his father are the noblest of men, the main Socialist--aside from Marcella herself--is a scoundrel. Still, there's a range of attractiveness of character across conservatives and radicals, and early Marcella is naive but not wrong (at least I have room to think so).

This is finely told, with the amplitude and attention to persons you want in a 19th century novel. If it were more famous I'd have read it a lot sooner. I look forward to more Mrs Humprey Ward. Such an interesting time to be writing, and still in your George Eliot etc. traditions.

[Jonathan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well this was excellent - shades of George Elliot but with added political/social engagement and analysis. Particularly good in navigating the contradictory and complex nature of character. If it did not get 5 stars that is probably more to do with my own tiredness. Read the other excellent reviews from Aubrey and others for more

[Leonie · Rating 3 out of 5]

An 1894 novel about class politics with particular reference to land, which attempts to find a via media between the nationalisation of land and the negligence of landlords. Marcella is a fiery, strong-willed young woman who begins the novel with Socialist ideals as her father inherits a country estate. She likes to be important and cannot help feeling pride in her new position and upper-class heritage, while full of plans to improve the lives of her father’s cottagers. She forms an engagement with a deeply earnest and conscientious but Conservative heir to a country estate, Aldous Raeburn, but cannot reconcile herself to his politics. The difficulty is helped along by her attraction to a Radical but flighty politician, Mr Wharton. Tension is also created by a plot in which one of Marcella’s protégés in the village turns poacher and kills the Raeburns’ keeper; the game laws of the time are one of Marcella’s chief concerns. This novel is very much like Ward’s Robert Elsmere, about a clergyman who loses faith in the truth of the bible, in that it takes a very earnest, respectable, Victorian approach to the inevitable dissolution of systems that have been depended on, reaches a kind of precarious, painstaking earnest Victorian okayness with the exact stage of transition that Ward has engineered/represented by the end and shrugs towards the future. That novel had more to offer, I think, because having a good and conscientious man permanently lose his faith feels more a lot newer for the time than having people really want to be good to the poor but not be sure how to do it or whether good always comes out of trying to be good to the poor. This novel accepts that the system of dependence on patriarchal land owners is probably dying but asks urgently “But what if there are good land owners? What if they’re really getting their act together? What if you’re being really unfair in tarring them all with the same brush?” Marcella repents of her dreadful crime of being unfair to good land owners and decides it’s best to be a little ambitious and innovative but not too much and everyone will just do the duties at hand and see what comes of it. It was quite interesting to see that Marcella is allowed to live alone and take up a nursing career during the novel. I suppose she’s a little like Dorothea from Middlemarch with her initial conflation of morality with personal ambition. Like Dorothea, she has to get squashed but ends up less squashed I think, allowed more ability to be useful in the world in the end. The book is interesting in that it’s a decent enough treatment of material I find interesting but decidedly too long. As with Robert Elsmere, this is a Victorian book club kind of book. It tackles of-the-moment issues in a way that isn’t bad but lacks the kind of universal resonance that allows old books to live.

[J · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ripping! After the first 80 pages or so I couldn't put this down. My toxic trait has slowly become...not knowing why every book I'm most excited to recommend always has to be out of print. NYRB should get this back in print for contemporary readers and ask me personally to choose the cover for it....

21 or 22 year old Marcella Boyce is beautiful, independent, and very interested in socialism. She sees marriage as something that can help her execute her agenda full of social experiments and reforms, but naturally finds moral flaws in her plan when the situation starts to become a reality. Her love interests, of which I shall say no more on, are just as interesting as she is.

There's a review of Marcella on here by Luke that links the novel with Persuasion, Middlemarch, and North and South - and I agree. The romance scheme reminds me of both Anne Elliot and Elizabeth Bennet. The social aspects of the novel also remind me of different themes in Middlemarch, and of course Marcella has much in common with Dorothea's selflessness, compassion, and what I called her "urban planning" endeavours in my review of MM. However, I think Marcella really delivers on the political theme of the novel where the others are far more restrained in that area - Marcella also thinks and speaks with the frankness of the New Woman. Marcella's mother (in her 40s) is also a very complex character who has something of a rebirth in the era of the New Woman herself- and this was actually one of my most favourite parts in the novel, as well as the whole strange dynamic of her relationship with Marcella....

Disappointingly, Mrs HW had some deeply flawed ideas around women's suffrage and socialism (I thought she was unique in this but have also just found out that E. Nesbit held similar views, and I'm sure there were others like them) which might be a large part of the reason her work fell out of fashion moving into the 20th century. In any case, for me, knowing about her views added a layer of intrigue to my reading of the novel and its themes.

[Benjamin Stahl · Rating 3 out of 5]

Having some years ago read a work of literary criticism by the presumably late Yale scholar, William Phelps, I was ironically inspired to read the novels of Mrs Humphry Ward after this critic's brutal assault upon her name. This year, I finally got around to it, and without any prior notion of her work, apart from the fact this one guy fucking hated her, I settled randomly on this one.

Turns out I cannot carry the same axe Mr Phelps wished to grind. I thought this book was actually very decent. Sometimes even brilliant. I do not sympathise with Ward's "humanistic" brand of Christianity - she seems to be one of the literary pioneers of that dreaded, practically atheist movement, and so I'm surprised she hasn't seen more of a resurgence of late. But for all intents and purposes, this book in itself does not venture too far into that domain. This is more of an intellectual Victorian romance, which pits a young and idealistic woman against two would-be lovers, a wealthy conservative landlord, and a bristling socialist politician.

I ought not to spoil the story at all. I'll just say that, on top of some marvellous writing, Mrs Ward really does do an astounding job in fleshing out her characters, making them all as human as possible. I especially liked Marcella and, even more, Aldous Raeburn, though that's probably my conservative bias showing. But anyway, Marcella is, it's true, a long, slow and fairly demanding book that does not get much attention these days. I, however, found it much more enjoyable than I expected to.

[Jim Jones · Rating 3 out of 5]

Marcella was the last (1894) of the great “triple decker” Victorian novels. My edition comes in at a hefty 950 pages. In an age before TV or radio, these humungous novels offered cheap entertainment to the middle classes, and a good living (paid for by the word by magazines) to novelists. It’s easy to see why these things fell out of favor as the 19th century came to an end. While this novel is fascinating in some areas, it drags far too often. There’s a great deal of repetition, wordiness, and unnecessary description in it. Marcella falls somewhere between the works of Trollope with its attention to English political life, and, Ward’s friend, Henry James’ work with its psychological depth. However, the faults of this novel are many. It has no sense of humor, nor the ability to create a lasting impression of the many minor characters, and ultimately, after a bracing start, resolves itself with Victorian clichés about love, faith and duty.
For the sake of brevity, (something Mrs. Ward has no conception of) I will talk about what I found most interesting in Marcella. In it, Ward creates a complex, not entirely sympathetic protagonist who refuses to confirm to Victorian notions of propriety and class. While that grabs the interest of a modern reader, she did not seem able to allow Marcella to follow her unorthodox beliefs to the end (as Gissing would have done). It is a bit disappointing to invest so much time in a novel that begins so radically by apparently advocating socialism and feminism, only to end with a happy marriage and an endorsement of traditional values. Ultimately, Ward caves to her public and holds up Marcella as an irresponsible teenager, swayed by her passions and misguided friends. She must conform through suffering, hard work, and disappointment. But along the way, the author makes some biting comments on the state of Christianity, the evils of the landed gentry, the mistreatment of the poor and disabled, and the dangers of political theatre. Overall, I feel her other great novel, Helbeck of Bannisdale, is far more successful and probably a better place to start if you are interested in exploring this writer’s work.

[Stephen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Enthralling, entrancing, a wonderful surprise for this geezer reader who had no idea that someone pen-named "Mrs Humphry Ward" could write up a storm on romance and social justice.
I worship Trollope's uncomplicated heroines. Marcella is much higher maintenance than Grace Crawley or Mary Thorne, but more vivid and vital, more real.
Highly recommended!
https://archive.org/details/reviewscr...

[Shelby · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well written, if not somewhat predictable. I was amazed how much I had in common with a 19th century young woman. It’s hard to reconcile the author as an anti-suffragette with such a compelling, authoritative, progressive, socialist, etc. protagonist. Slow start but drew pretty deep depth of feeling towards the end.