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truepenny[Spoilers for Heyer's Venetia very likely in the comments. Also Lady of Quality. Read at your own risk.]
There is a trade paperback edition of John Aubrey's Brief Lives, for those of you who might be interested.
Aubrey, John. Aubrey's Brief Lives. Ed. Oliver Lawson Dick. 1949. Foreword Edmund Wilson. 1957. Boston: Nonpareil-David R. Godine, Publisher, 1999. ISBN 1-56792-063-2
If you have suddenly been seized with covetousness or curiosity, you can order it online here.
And one of the entries in it is Venetia Digby, the same "admir'd Venetia" for whom the heroine of Georgette Heyer's Venetia is apparently named. She was, Aubrey tells us, "a most beautifull desireable Creature" (Aubrey 100)--and I had forgotten that Damerel properly attributes that quote when he uses it:
But there's quite a lot Damerel doesn't tell Venetia about her namesake. For the passage that describes her as "a most beautifull desireable Creature" goes on to recount: "being maturo vivo was left by her father to live with a tenant and servant at Enston Abbey in Oxfordshire: but as private as that palce was, it seemes her Beautie coulde not lye hid. The young Eagles had espied her, and she was sanguine and tractable, and of much Suavity (which to abuse was great pittie)" (Aubrey 100). And lest you be imagining the Disneyfied version, Aubrey further tells us: "The Earle of Dorset aforesayd was her greatest Gallant, who was extremely enamoured of her, and had one, if not more children by her. He setled on her an Annuity of 500 pounds per annum" (Aubrey 100). She ended respectably, though, marrying Sir Kenelm Digby and apparently being faithful to him: "Once a yeare the Earle of Dorset invited her and Sir Kenelme to dinner, where the Earle would behold her with much passion, and only kisse her hand" (Aubrey 101). She died suddenly at the age of 33.
So what is this lady doing as the patron saint of one of Heyer's virtuous heroines? That we are meant to have Venetia Digby in mind I think is clear, both from Damerel's quotations and from the fact that Venetia's younger and much adored brother is named Aubrey. Moreover, Venetia's scandalous mother makes the presence of the Scarlet Woman quite felt. You could argue, in fact, if you were in a litcritty sort of mood, that Venetia's discovery of the truth about Aurelia stands in for the discovery she does not make of the truth about her namesake. Damerel knows about both Aurelia and Venetia Digby, and tells Venetia Lanyon about neither, and certainly the question of appropriate knowledge is thematic throughout (there's a running joke about how utterly unrespectable the heroes and heroines of classical Greek literature are)--both Conway and Aubrey knew about Aurelia long before Venetia did, Conway because his father thought it fit that he know, and Aubrey because Conway thought it fit that he know. One of my favorite bits of characterization is that Conway doesn't tell Venetia because he agrees she oughtn't to know; Aubrey doesn't tell her because he doesn't care. In fact, everyone in the book knows--except Venetia, from whom it is carefully and obsessively kept, until the unpredictable Aurelia walks blithely through all these elaborate precautions.
Venetia, considering that nothing scandalous actually happens and our heroine's virtue remains immaculate, is a remarkably straightforward comment about the hypocrisy of the respectable. Edward (her respectable suitor--and he gets tagged that way repeatedly) is a ghastly person; the efforts of all and sundry to "protect" Venetia do more harm than good. Venetia heartily disliked her quite respectable father, and tells the utterly disreputable Sir Lambert, "And I wish very much that you had been my father, sir.... I should have loved you much more than ever I loved my own, for you are a great deal kinder!" (Heyer 283). And of course the centerpiece of this quiet subversion is Damerel. Damerel the rake who turns out to be a Classics geek (he specifically compares his younger self to Aubrey), Damerel who is wicked because it's better than being bored. Damerel whose relationship with Venetia is founded on a shared sense of the ridiculous. Heyer flirts throughout with the love-of-a-good-woman trope, but never quite commits to it, instead changing the terms to suit herself:
It's also quite clear that Damerel is well along the road to saving himself. He doesn't need Venetia to show him the way to righteousness; he needs her to keep him company. I think Venetia Digby's presence in Venetia is a intertextual marker of the same thing the book itself is arguing for: tolerance, perspective, the ability to take the long view. Venetia Digby was scandalous in her day, just as Aurelia is--just as Oedipus and Medea are. But scandals die; what matters is what's left: Sir Lambert bending over backwards to keep Aurelia happy, Damerel laughing with Venetia. Heyer arrays a sense of the ridiculous against respectability and propriety, and we are left with no doubts about where her sympathies lie.
---
WORKS CITED
Aubrey, John. Aubrey's Brief Lives. Ed. Oliver Lawson Dick. 1949. Foreword Edmund Wilson. 1957. Boston: Nonpareil-David R. Godine, Publisher, 1999.
Heyer, Georgette. Venetia. 1958. New York: Jove Publications, 1981.
There is a trade paperback edition of John Aubrey's Brief Lives, for those of you who might be interested.
Aubrey, John. Aubrey's Brief Lives. Ed. Oliver Lawson Dick. 1949. Foreword Edmund Wilson. 1957. Boston: Nonpareil-David R. Godine, Publisher, 1999. ISBN 1-56792-063-2
If you have suddenly been seized with covetousness or curiosity, you can order it online here.
And one of the entries in it is Venetia Digby, the same "admir'd Venetia" for whom the heroine of Georgette Heyer's Venetia is apparently named. She was, Aubrey tells us, "a most beautifull desireable Creature" (Aubrey 100)--and I had forgotten that Damerel properly attributes that quote when he uses it:
"I beg your pardon!"
He raised his head, still choking with laughter, and said, "Oh, no, no! Sweet Mind, then speak yourself ...!"
She wrinkled her brow, and then directed a look of enquiry at him.
"What, lurched, O well-read Miss Lanyon?" he said provocatively. "It was written by Ben Jonson, of another Venetia. I turned it up last night, after you had left me."
"No, is it indeed so?" she exclaimed, surprised and pleased. "I had never heard it before! In fact, I didn't know there had been any poems written to a Venetia. What was she like?"
"Like yourself, if John Aubrey is to be believed: a beautiful desirable creature!"
(Heyer 87-88)
But there's quite a lot Damerel doesn't tell Venetia about her namesake. For the passage that describes her as "a most beautifull desireable Creature" goes on to recount: "being maturo vivo was left by her father to live with a tenant and servant at Enston Abbey in Oxfordshire: but as private as that palce was, it seemes her Beautie coulde not lye hid. The young Eagles had espied her, and she was sanguine and tractable, and of much Suavity (which to abuse was great pittie)" (Aubrey 100). And lest you be imagining the Disneyfied version, Aubrey further tells us: "The Earle of Dorset aforesayd was her greatest Gallant, who was extremely enamoured of her, and had one, if not more children by her. He setled on her an Annuity of 500 pounds per annum" (Aubrey 100). She ended respectably, though, marrying Sir Kenelm Digby and apparently being faithful to him: "Once a yeare the Earle of Dorset invited her and Sir Kenelme to dinner, where the Earle would behold her with much passion, and only kisse her hand" (Aubrey 101). She died suddenly at the age of 33.
So what is this lady doing as the patron saint of one of Heyer's virtuous heroines? That we are meant to have Venetia Digby in mind I think is clear, both from Damerel's quotations and from the fact that Venetia's younger and much adored brother is named Aubrey. Moreover, Venetia's scandalous mother makes the presence of the Scarlet Woman quite felt. You could argue, in fact, if you were in a litcritty sort of mood, that Venetia's discovery of the truth about Aurelia stands in for the discovery she does not make of the truth about her namesake. Damerel knows about both Aurelia and Venetia Digby, and tells Venetia Lanyon about neither, and certainly the question of appropriate knowledge is thematic throughout (there's a running joke about how utterly unrespectable the heroes and heroines of classical Greek literature are)--both Conway and Aubrey knew about Aurelia long before Venetia did, Conway because his father thought it fit that he know, and Aubrey because Conway thought it fit that he know. One of my favorite bits of characterization is that Conway doesn't tell Venetia because he agrees she oughtn't to know; Aubrey doesn't tell her because he doesn't care. In fact, everyone in the book knows--except Venetia, from whom it is carefully and obsessively kept, until the unpredictable Aurelia walks blithely through all these elaborate precautions.
Venetia, considering that nothing scandalous actually happens and our heroine's virtue remains immaculate, is a remarkably straightforward comment about the hypocrisy of the respectable. Edward (her respectable suitor--and he gets tagged that way repeatedly) is a ghastly person; the efforts of all and sundry to "protect" Venetia do more harm than good. Venetia heartily disliked her quite respectable father, and tells the utterly disreputable Sir Lambert, "And I wish very much that you had been my father, sir.... I should have loved you much more than ever I loved my own, for you are a great deal kinder!" (Heyer 283). And of course the centerpiece of this quiet subversion is Damerel. Damerel the rake who turns out to be a Classics geek (he specifically compares his younger self to Aubrey), Damerel who is wicked because it's better than being bored. Damerel whose relationship with Venetia is founded on a shared sense of the ridiculous. Heyer flirts throughout with the love-of-a-good-woman trope, but never quite commits to it, instead changing the terms to suit herself:
"You and Damerel!" she [Aurelia] said after a long silence. "Do you imagine he would be faithful to you?"
"I don't know," said Venetia. "I think he will always love me. You see, we are such dear friends."
(Heyer 277)
It's also quite clear that Damerel is well along the road to saving himself. He doesn't need Venetia to show him the way to righteousness; he needs her to keep him company. I think Venetia Digby's presence in Venetia is a intertextual marker of the same thing the book itself is arguing for: tolerance, perspective, the ability to take the long view. Venetia Digby was scandalous in her day, just as Aurelia is--just as Oedipus and Medea are. But scandals die; what matters is what's left: Sir Lambert bending over backwards to keep Aurelia happy, Damerel laughing with Venetia. Heyer arrays a sense of the ridiculous against respectability and propriety, and we are left with no doubts about where her sympathies lie.
---
WORKS CITED
Aubrey, John. Aubrey's Brief Lives. Ed. Oliver Lawson Dick. 1949. Foreword Edmund Wilson. 1957. Boston: Nonpareil-David R. Godine, Publisher, 1999.
Heyer, Georgette. Venetia. 1958. New York: Jove Publications, 1981.
