
“Is Fanny Burney better than Jane Austen?” I asked as I tore through Burney’s 941-page novel, Cecilia (1,004 pages with notes). I was spellbound by Burney’s first novel, Evelina, and her second novel, Cecilia, is a masterpiece. The brilliant novelist Fanny Burney (1752-1840) also influenced Austen, Charlotte Bronte, and Dickens.
I finally decided that Burney is better than Austen, though not all will agree. Both women are elegant writers, with very different styles. Austen is a minimalist, Burney a maximalist. Geography is also an issue; most of Austen’s novels are set in small villages; most of Burney’s Cecilia is set in London. Austen and Burney both write exquisitely, but Burney is wordier. Her long sentences delightfully propel the plot as she luxuriously spins out her story at great length. Austen pleases us with brevity and wit.
In Cecilia, each long, periodic sentence is exquisitely, perfectly formed, the pages are lively and strewn with pithy dialogue, and scene after scene (some not absolutely necessary) showcase expansive, fascinating descriptions of rich people and and glitzy, decadent parties. Everything is about class and money in Cecilia’s world. Think of the parties in Trollope’s The Way We Live Now, Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, and Evelyn Waugh’s Vile Bodies. Cecilia neither enjoys the parties nor wishes to know the partiers.
The critic Margaret Anne Doody makes a very odd comment about Cecilia: she writes that Cecilia is a “parodic male.” I understand her reasoning, though I adamantly disagree. Cecilia, to the people around her, is an heiress, defined by her fortune. Many men pursue her. She is not interested in wealth: she would prefer to do good works and give money to charity. Now that, to me, is a common trait of women in literature, not of a parodic male.
But it is the issue of her last name, Beverley, that intrigues Doody. Cecilia has not yet inherited her fortune: that will happen in a few months when she turns 21. In the will, her uncle stated that she would inherit the money on the condition that she keep her last name, and that, if she should marry, her husband must take her name. This issue seems trivial to Cecilia, but it is an unusual situation for a woman. And indeed, the politics of names dominate the book.
Beautiful Cecilia is that rare heroine: a woman not interested in marrying. At concerts and the opera, her superficial friends talk so much Cecilia can’t hear the music. She is much better-educated and more intellectual than most of them. But when she finally falls in love, it is the name change that stands in the way. Not to the younger generation: Cecilia and her boyfriend, Mortimer Delville, consider the the name buisness nonsensical. But Mr. and Mrs. Delville are furious. They say their aristocratic name must be preserved.
One would think that feminism would have conquered the “name change” issue, and that its significance would have radically changed over the years. Yet very few women keep their “maiden” name when they marry, i.e., their family name, which is, of course, their father’s name. According to the Pew Research Center in 2023, 79% of women in opposite-sex marriages say they took their spouse’s last name. Another 14% kept their last name, and 5% hyphenated both names. (Pew does not have stats for gay marriage.)
I find myself still explaining, “I kept my own name when I got married.” (N.B. I refuse to say, “maiden name.” ) To my astonishment, everyone knows my last name except for the phone company and distant relatves. I am listed under my husband’s name in the phone books -and his name is misspelled!
My mother did not change her name back to her “maiden name” after her divorce. She said she wanted the same name as her children. She clearly had thought it out.
Names resonate with us. We may want to keep our name as a part of our life-long identity, or to change it because it is a tradition of married life, or for the simple reason that we prefer our husand’s name.
But few had more difficulties than Cecilia Beverley. The name debate rages in this beautifully-written, thoughtful page-turner.
