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Review: "Maurice" by Mary Shelley, Critical Text by Claire Tomalin
Did you know that before E. M. Forster wrote Maurice, Mary Shelley wrote it? Not the same story, of course, but she did write a short story of the same name in 1820 as a gift for a friend’s daughter, Laurette.
The beginning of the story demands quoting, which I will do (with some ellipsis):
“One Sunday afternoon in the month of September, a traveller entered the town of Torquay.... The streets of the town were empty... so the traveller walked on through the meaner streets of the town... and then he paused at the door of a neat-looking inn....
“He entered the inn, and asking for dinner, unbuckled his wallet, and sat down to rest himself near the door.
“A tall man of glowering countenance approached and stood over him, addressing him in a surly manner: ‘Dinner? I’m sorry, did you say dinner?’
“ 'Yes,' replied the traveller, 'if you would be so good. I am weary from walking, and dinner just now would suit me admirably.'
"The innkeeper’s visage grew red with ire. 'It’s barely eleven o’clock!' cried he. 'Does that sound like dinner time to you? This is a hotel, not a full-service restaurant. I mean, do you have any idea how much work there is to do?' " (75-76).
Sorry, as a Fawlty Towers fan, I couldn’t resist.
Now, back to the story (spoilers follow):
So this traveller goes to an inn in Torquay, where I have no doubt he had an excellent dinner, and where he comes to hear some facts about a poor boy who has been apprenticed to a fisherman, but the fisherman has just died, and the boy is about to be put out on the streets. Drama ensues, and it comes to pass that this boy is the long-lost son of the traveller, who was stolen by a poor peasant woman who couldn’t have children. He ran away from their lodging because her husband abused him. But happily, the abusive husband has since died. Ultimately, the boy is returned to his rightful parents who decide to help support his adoptive mother (with rather enormous powers of forgiveness), and they all live happily ever after.
Claire Tomalin’s introduction to this volume emphasizes the high romantic qualities of the story: love of the rustic wilderness, lost children, little explicit moralizing, etc., but to me it felt rather Victorian, being a story in which very good people are rewarded for being very good and model being very good to each other. It’s sweet and slight and quite appropriate as a children’s story. Clearly it was held dear as a gift since the family retained it for well over a hundred years (it was published in 1997).
Tomalin’s critical text is well put together. The story itself is short, so most of the book is critical apparatus with lavish biographical detail, textual analysis, family trees, and quite a few portraits of relevant figures. As a bonus--and possibly the pièce de résistance--the text includes a poem by Lady Mountcashell, mother of Laurette, entitled, “Twelve Cogent Reasons for Supposing P. B. Sh-ll-y to Be the D-v-l Inc-rn-t-.” A sample:
Proof 6th:
“All unknown tongues he speaks at will;
And this another proof is still,
For Satan ever has been known
To strange, outlandish lingos prone:
And when exorcised by a Priest,
Has always talked Latin at least.” (157)
It continues in that vein. Lady Mountcashell sounds quite a character, and her biography, which Tomalin gives in some detail, is well worth reading in itself. It seems Mary Wollstonecraft was once her governess and she remained deeply influenced by her ideas.
I recommend this volume to devotees of Mary Shelley and her set. It’s not high literature, but it’s an interesting and intimate window into her life and work.
Reference:
Shelley, Mary. Maurice, Or the Fisher’s Cot: A Long Lost Tale. Ed. and introd. Claire Tomalin. New York: Knopf, 1998. Print.
The beginning of the story demands quoting, which I will do (with some ellipsis):
“One Sunday afternoon in the month of September, a traveller entered the town of Torquay.... The streets of the town were empty... so the traveller walked on through the meaner streets of the town... and then he paused at the door of a neat-looking inn....
“He entered the inn, and asking for dinner, unbuckled his wallet, and sat down to rest himself near the door.
“A tall man of glowering countenance approached and stood over him, addressing him in a surly manner: ‘Dinner? I’m sorry, did you say dinner?’
“ 'Yes,' replied the traveller, 'if you would be so good. I am weary from walking, and dinner just now would suit me admirably.'
"The innkeeper’s visage grew red with ire. 'It’s barely eleven o’clock!' cried he. 'Does that sound like dinner time to you? This is a hotel, not a full-service restaurant. I mean, do you have any idea how much work there is to do?' " (75-76).
Sorry, as a Fawlty Towers fan, I couldn’t resist.
Now, back to the story (spoilers follow):
So this traveller goes to an inn in Torquay, where I have no doubt he had an excellent dinner, and where he comes to hear some facts about a poor boy who has been apprenticed to a fisherman, but the fisherman has just died, and the boy is about to be put out on the streets. Drama ensues, and it comes to pass that this boy is the long-lost son of the traveller, who was stolen by a poor peasant woman who couldn’t have children. He ran away from their lodging because her husband abused him. But happily, the abusive husband has since died. Ultimately, the boy is returned to his rightful parents who decide to help support his adoptive mother (with rather enormous powers of forgiveness), and they all live happily ever after.
Claire Tomalin’s introduction to this volume emphasizes the high romantic qualities of the story: love of the rustic wilderness, lost children, little explicit moralizing, etc., but to me it felt rather Victorian, being a story in which very good people are rewarded for being very good and model being very good to each other. It’s sweet and slight and quite appropriate as a children’s story. Clearly it was held dear as a gift since the family retained it for well over a hundred years (it was published in 1997).
Tomalin’s critical text is well put together. The story itself is short, so most of the book is critical apparatus with lavish biographical detail, textual analysis, family trees, and quite a few portraits of relevant figures. As a bonus--and possibly the pièce de résistance--the text includes a poem by Lady Mountcashell, mother of Laurette, entitled, “Twelve Cogent Reasons for Supposing P. B. Sh-ll-y to Be the D-v-l Inc-rn-t-.” A sample:
Proof 6th:
“All unknown tongues he speaks at will;
And this another proof is still,
For Satan ever has been known
To strange, outlandish lingos prone:
And when exorcised by a Priest,
Has always talked Latin at least.” (157)
It continues in that vein. Lady Mountcashell sounds quite a character, and her biography, which Tomalin gives in some detail, is well worth reading in itself. It seems Mary Wollstonecraft was once her governess and she remained deeply influenced by her ideas.
I recommend this volume to devotees of Mary Shelley and her set. It’s not high literature, but it’s an interesting and intimate window into her life and work.
Reference:
Shelley, Mary. Maurice, Or the Fisher’s Cot: A Long Lost Tale. Ed. and introd. Claire Tomalin. New York: Knopf, 1998. Print.