In Fanny Burney’s Cecilia, a delightful 18th-century novel, an heiress struggles for independence and control of her money. Cecilia hopes to devote her fortune to charity and good works, but she spends much time deflecting fortune hunters and unwanted suitors. And later, when she  falls in love with Mr. Delvile, the marriage is opposed by his parents over a trivial issue: will Mr. Delvile take her last name? Her inheritance depends on this detail.

Take your pick:  can you think of a 19th-century writer who wasn’t influenced by Cecilia?  The heroines of Charlotte Bronte, Anne Bronte, George Eliot, and Henry James all have Cecilian roots, though some are deeper than others.

The wedding scene in Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre is one of the most striking in English literature, and is closely based on a wedding scene in  Cecilia. Because of family objections to the wedding, Cecilia and Delvile decide to marry secretly. But when a sinister stranger objects to the marriage, the minister refuses to continue the ceremony. 

Of course Bronte’s scene is more Gothically dramatic:  Mr. Rochester and Jane are at the altar when a man at the back objects: Mr. Mason says that Rochester is already married to his sister, Bertha, a mad woman in the attic.

In Anne Bronte’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, independent Helen Graham flees her decadent, drunken husband, Arthur, to save herself from violence and her son from his influence.  Helen moves to the country and supports herself by painting, but, like Cecilia, she is soon the subject of slander.  Rumors fly about her amorous history, which is completely invented by the villagers.  In Cecilia, gossipy upper-class partiers spread a rumor that Cecilia is engaged to a man she loathes and tries to avoid.  Other rumors later must be debunked.

In George Eliot’s Middlemarch, marriage prevents wealthy Dorothea Brooke from devoting herself to charity. Before her marriage to a middle-aged scholar, Mr. Casaugon, she designs habitable cottages for her rich uncle’s tenants, who live in squalor.  Bu: there is nothing to do on Casaubon’s estate, and he refuses to allow her to act as his secretary.  There are no options for a woman in her position. But Eliot does not exile her forever.

In Henry James’s The Portrait of a Lady, Isabel Archer, an American  heiress, is determined to control her own life and fortune.  And then she  marries the wrong man, the fascinating, charming Gilbert Osmond, who, it turns out, is a sadist determined to control her.  But unlike Cecilia and Helen, Isabel sacrifices herself to o save his daughter from his dominance and cruelty.  Does James have a different perspective on a bad marriage because he is male?  I love James’s novel, but one cannot help but notice the metaphorical noose hung around Isabel’s neck.

Burney’s thoughtful portrait of an heiress captures the zeitgeist, and is still relatable for those with a new, different zeitgeist.

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