SBORNlK PRACI FILOZOFICKE FAKULTY BRNENSKE UNIVERZITY [617159]

SBORNlK PRACI FILOZOFICKE FAKULTY BRNENSKE UNIVERZITY
STUDIA MINORA FACULTATIS PHILOSOPHICAE UNIVERSITATIS BRUNENSIS
K 5(1983J — BRNO STUDIES IN ENGLISH 15
THE EMANCIPATION OF THE VICTORIAN
HEROINE
CONTRASTING APROACHES IN MEREDITH. HARDY AND FOWLES
(WITH PARTICULAR REFERENCE TO FOWLES)
Eva Vonkovd
Progressive views on the emancipation 1 of woman appear in English
literature earlier than in George Meredith (Charlotte Bronte, George Eliot),
but he was the first to take the emancipated woman as a central character
of the novel (Diana of the Crossways, 1885). In spite of this, his conception
of the "emancipated" woman remains subject to idealistic prejudices.
Thomas Hardy had a deeper insight into the situation of women (Sue in
Jude the Obscure, 1896). It is more the insufficient maturity of his philos­
ophy of life than the absence of creative profundity that fills the gloomy
and hopeless conclusion of the novel.
Almost a century later the contemporary writer John Fowles selects
a very similar subject (The French Lieutenant's Woman, 1969). Thus he
has the advantage of the distance of time, while the two preceding authors
have that of the immediate response to controversies of their days. The
novelists' approaches to the Victorian heroine and her emancipation mirror
the moment in which the respective work of fiction appears, 2 although the
period factor is not of course the only influence working.
1.
From the standpoint of half-a-century later Meredith places his heroine
Diana Warwick in the Early Victorian era when the rising bourgeoisie
brings the "puritan" morality. He accordingly still conceals sexual rela­
tionships under his artistic devices. He departs from traditional norms in
his heroine: she prefigures the battle between intellect and the senses,
leaving her husband and marrying a second time after his death.
1 I conceive emancipation as a setting free from "social, political or moral re­
straint" arising naturally from the economic basis, The Concise Oxford Dictionary of
Current English (London: Oxford Univ. Press. 1979). o. 336.
a At this point I am induced to refer to Bernard Bergonzi, The Situation of the
Novel (London and Basingstoke: Macmillan and Co., 1970), Preface, who is discon­
tented with the notion of the novel as "a complex but essentially self-contained form,
cut off from the untidiness and discontinuities of the world outside".

150
Having found a second husband who would not seek to enslave her,
Diana fulfils her existence. One might agree with J. B. Priestley that "the
only hope for her is to ally herself with a stout, sensible man, and him she
finds in Redworth, who will give her stability and direction". 3 However,
her misfortunes are not "the natural results of her frailties", 4 which omits
the conformist way her emancipation is solved (she cannot reform society
and escapes into personal happiness).
Holding the similar opinion that Diana herself is responsible for her
difficulties, some of the critics see "a major technical mistake in totally
avoiding a sensible explanation of the motive for Diana's action in
betraying her friend Dacier, although this betrayal is the turning point
of the plot". 5 But this deed is' explained psychologically: she is afraid of
losing independence (both that of an objective character — financial —
and that of a subjective charac+er — independence of Dacier) and she uses
all possible means to retain it. 6 The novelist finds the real reason for her
fear in the existing circumstances, to which Stevenson testifies: "Mere­
dith's thesis was that even so brilliant a woman as Diana was incapable of
acting discreetly because the false position of women in societv rendered
her unstable." 7 It. is the necessity of realizing this that causes the heroine
to be remote to the oresent-day reader.
It is as if Diana reallv could n<">t act independently in nolitics because of
the betrayal: her emancipation is again linked to idealistic reliance on the
generous guidance of a man. For that reason she should "become a suitable
wife and a comrade for man" 8 and to realize her womanhood to the high­
est deprpp — she should have thp frepdoms of intellect, the emotions, and
social life, which the writer Drefers to her economic liberation. The fact
that the heroine is nre-eminent preciselv in cultured society fits in with
his purpose of observing the personal development of a woman, but limits
a broader vision of woman's changing role. Thus the new ideal of a woman
who completes her emotions bv intellectual power is his main contribution
to the emancipation of the Victorian heroine.
The conception of the heroine is reflected in Meredith's creative process:
(a) Being a sensitive observer of the practically contemporaneous scene,
the novelist in fact portrays womanhood determined by the age. As he is
more concerned with the true definition of woman than with her emanci­
pation as such, the novel may also be considered a psychological one.
However, the psychological aspect is not very highly elaborated, 9 even if
3 J. B. Priestley, George Meredith (London: Macmillan, 1926), p. 140.
4 Ibid., p. 139.
5 Margaret Conrow. "Coming to Terms with George Meredith's Fiction", in George
Goodin, ed., The English Novel in the Nineteenth Century (Urbana, Chicago, London:
Universitv of Illinois Press. 1972), p. 191.
6 See George Meredith, Diana of the Crossways (London: Constable, 1915), pp. 371,
425.
7 Lionel Stevenson, The English Novel. A Panorama (Cambridge, Mass.: The
Riverside Press. 1960). p. 406.
8 According to Marie Moll, this is the essence of Meredith's feminism, quoted from
C. L. Cline, "George Meredith", in Lionel Stevenson, ed.. Victorian Fiction. A Guide
to Research (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press. 1966), p. 343.
9 This is conspicuous in Diana's success in captivating men. I think the possible
argument that Meredith means it as a hyperbole will not stand.

151
it enables the heroine to act out herself (only Redworth can be taken for
the mouthpiece 10); she is not manipulated in order to be "emancipated".
(b) Meredith's experimental method approximately corresponds to his
imaginative projection of the ideal woman. It includes both the intellectual
approach, founded on practical realism and opposed to selfish sentiment-
alism, and the emotive approach originating from the romantic angle.
Hence the novel contains a generally recognizable miscellany of elements,
each presented with poetic capacity — philosophical, psychological, con­
versational elements, which I associate with his realism, and tragic, comic,
tragicomic, lyric elements, which I associate with his romantism.
All the innovations, whether in matter (the new apprehension of the
heroine) or in manner (the preliminary step to Joyce's disintegration of
prose 11), are based on the reserved approach of the writer who distances
himself from his time. They imply moreover that he does not insinuate
himself into the readers' favour, which also helps to emancipate the
heroine because it breaks through the accepted conventional values of
those days.
2.
Thomas Hardy presents a current contemporaneity, the Late Victorian
era when the aristocracy no longer stands for an ideal. He directs his
attention to the working man whose intelectual companion the heroine
becomes.
But in contrast to Meredith, Hardy desires to change all spheres of her
existence, not exclusively the moral code. Inevitably Sue Bridehead sur­
passes Diana — capable of social analysis, she rejects the Victorian values:
the law supported by religion, the useless learning (of Christminster), forced
intercourse carried out in marriage (obtaining a divorce, she re-marries the
same husband only after she yields to conventions and financial difficul­
ties).
It is the sexual freedom to follow or refuse sexual relations that the
heroine regards highly in her emancipation. She is sometimes considered
to be of a cold nature on account of this, 12 which would obviously reduce
her personality. It is worth realizing what the novelist's purpose 'was. It
seems to me that- he intended to create a female character acceptable for
the day, that is a self-controlled Puritan, but also to show that the double
moral code produces the gap between her own wishes and her sexual be­
haviour to Jude. The result should have been "the least sensual woman
10 See J. B. Priestley, op. cit, p. 174.
11 C. L. Cline sums up the argument of Donald S. Fanger in "Joyce and Meredith:
A Question of Influence and Tradition" (Modern Fiction Studies, 1960): "The in­
fluence is observable in the lyricism of the two, in the use of the interior monologue,
and in a dislike for well-ordered plots. But what was undisciplined in Meredith was
disciplined by Joyce." (Victorian Fiction, p. 342).
12 For Instance Irving Howe mentions D. H. Lawrence, who "quick to see in Sue
Bridehead the antithesis of his Idea of the woman, writes of her with a fascinated
loathing", "On Jude the Obscure", in Ian Watt, ed., The Victorian Novel (Oxford
Univ. Press, 1971), p 442.

152
without inhuman sexlessness" (VI, iii), as Hardy characterizes Sue through
Jude.
The heroine demands besides the right to love, the freedom to be loved
without any restricting obligations. This is another reason for her dislike
for traditional marriage, and she lives outside of it. She takes responsible
care of her family and children, even of a step-child, in this arrangement.
Thus the character of Sue approaches that of a completely emancipated
figure among the Victorian heroines. When she collapses, it is not because
of her psychological nature, 13 but merely so the writer could stress that
women emancipated before their time seldom escaped. She is destroyed
by the society in which she cannot cope with life (the death of her child­
ren) and her tragedy is one "of unfulfilled aims" — her emancipation is
thwarted, like Jude's desire for education.
Hardy comes to the conclusion that both men and women can be ensla­
ved by the standards of society: "That's what some women fail to see, and
instead of protesting against the conditions they protest against the man,
the other victim." (V, iv). It is as if he rejected emancipation because it
diverts attention from social problems.
Owing to this fact the conception of the emancipated heroine is not so
evident in Hardy's creative approach as it is in Meredith's. The social
aspect prevails and finds expression on realistic grounds, adequately secur­
ed by the epic construction.
The other tendencies are subordinate to the realistic method. I mean by
other trends the romantic components (such as poetic imagination or
religious and cultural symbolism 14) and the inclination to naturalism (mani­
fested in the variety of details or in the inconsolable mond of the book).
In contradistinction to naturalistic doctrines, the action is not directed by
the Irony of Fate but by the social cruelty that determines the position of
woman definitively. Hence the realistic conception of the heroine is again
decisive, approached as she is both in a naturalistic manner (as the result
of heredity — unsuited for marriage — and of environment — degraded
by lower social origin) and realistically (she suffers due to society), she
signifies "a generalised human situation in historv and neither (what it i.s
generally assumed to be) a purely personal tragedy nor (what Hardv
appearsito have intended) a philosophic comment on Life in general and
the fate of Woman in particular" in the final outcome. 15
Viewing his material realistically from the social standpoint, the writer
in the spirit of the 19th centurv novel rather turns to life than to technical
innovations (except the plot which is composed of "a series of seemines").
Unlike Meredith, he does not experiment: he ingeniously elaborates his
13 Mr. Howe suggests: "She is promethean in mind but masochist in character
and the division destroys her, making a shambles of her mind and mere sterile
discipline of her character. She is all intellectual seriousness, but without the secu­
rity of will which enables one to live out of the consequences of an idea to their
limit", ibid., p. 441.
14 For an analysis of the symbolic reality in Jude the Obscure, see Lance St. John
Butler. Thomas Hardy (Cambridge, London, New York, Melbourne: Cambridge Univ.
Press. 1978), pp. 136-148.
15 The way Arnold Kettle perceives another Hardy heroine, Tess, An Introduction
to the English Novel (London: Hutchinson and Co., 1974), vol. 2, p. 48.

153
material. 16 This is evident in a highly developed system of contrasts stem­
ming from the contradiction in the main idea (the high ideals of man,
including the emancipation of woman, that are "killed" by the existing
conditions formulated in "the letter").
At least two more concerns, besides the social, are characteristic of
Hardy's approach — the psychological and human. The tragedy of the
emancipated heroine is very impressive by means of the former. The latter
enables the novelist to strive for a human, "emancipated" world. His noble
humanism is not marred by his "obscure" pessimism. He is prevented from
finding the solution for lack of distance of time, therefore he cannot con­
quer "the coming universal wish not to live".
3.
John Fowles lives in the 20th century, when the problem of indissoluble
marriage has retreated. He is not predominantly involved with it, unlike
Hardy or Meredith; he rather suggests marital, notably sexual stereotypes
that disturb him.
Consequently his heroine Sarah Woodruff does not regard matrimony
as the only existing prospect of her life, in spite of the Mid-Victorian
setting: she begins in the world of a very stable society, in the provincial
town Jane Austen wrote about in Persuasion, and ends in the modern
bohemian circle which is the background of the later Pre-Raphaelite move­
ment. I shall return later to her personal development, with which her
emancipation is closely connected.
But Sarah's capacity to form her own judgments follows undoubtedly
even from this rough outline of her growth. She displays it in the peculiar
power to appraise others intuitively, which enables her to discern and
simply analyze even the hypocrisy of the period. She is somehow inexplic­
able in her insight and she looks "more like a living memorial to the
drowned, a figure from myth than any proper fragment of the petty
provincial town" in the very opening scene. This indicates that Fowles
does not abandon his old adherence to the mythic 17 and he creates in his
heroine a myth of liberty, of a sort. Hence he admits she personifies
"a swarm of mysteries" (ch. 47) and that "modern women like Sarah exist
and I have never understood them" (ch. 13), which conveyed to a general
level means, as Gindin has it, that "the author, with self-deprecation,
acknowledges that he may be simply transferring his own inabilities to
understand the enigmatic female into the safety of a historically locatable
story". 18
The "enigmatic" can be easily replaced here by the "emancipated". Then
the writer's confession is one of the brilliant moments which show that
the heroine is emancipated before her time; the facts that she is nearly
10 Critical Interest devoted itself deeply to the architectural balance of his novel-
istic structure.
17 Notably The Magus (1966) is interpenetrated with the mythic apprehension of
reality.
18 James Gindin, "John Fowles", in James Vinson, ed., Contemporary Novelists
(London: St. James Press Ltd., 1973), p. 423.

154
considered mad and it is planned to put her into an asylum (a detail of
clinical psychology) and "she would have been at home" in America
where "the emancipation movement was already twenty years old"
(a sociological detail from ch. 59) are further such moments.
Fowles admires women with their own individuality. Therefore he lets
Sarah attract Charles so fatally; he ascribes to her passionate emotions
and considerate comprehension, he explicitly writes of her as "completely
feminine" (ch. 16). In this he seems to assure the reader that she is not
deprived of her womanhood by free thought. Rather vague and abstract
attributes signal her independent spirit; they partly establish the allegory
of mythic freedom, but it is as if they also assisted the contemporary lite­
rary trend of weakening the character's position in the novel. Those tokens
of the emancipated heroine merge into the central idea of the book — the
quest for one's own authenticity, from which she is not deterred by
adverse economic conditions. Having left the position of governess in
which she sensed herself cut off from family happiness by caste barriers,
she pretends to be a fallen woman guilty of a relationship with the French
officer (hence the title of the novel), so as to achieve independence by
means of her intentional isolation:
"I think I have a freedom they cannot understand. No insult, no blame, can
touch me. Because I have set myself beyond the pale. I am nothing, I am
hardly human any more. I am the French Lieutenant's Whore!" (ch. 20).
Inevitably the "virtuous" small town feels endangered by her, for she
actually attacks it in its own principle — pretence.
Sarah makes use of the same law in the next stage of her emancipation
when she manipulates Charles in order to release him from social conven­
tions. But one thing, out of many, illustrates that he never extricates
himself from them entirely: in the second version of the novel where he
might be expected to make some advance he does not accept a free union
with her, which he could if he cared for the relationship itself, like Hardy's
hero Jude.
Accordingly the heroine in the last stage of her emancipation does not
choose the man who would remind her of the limitations of those days
but knowledge of her role in life. 19 Reaching the position she belongs to,
she realizes herself and thus succeeds in search of her own authenticity
while Charles has to resume it. When he finally meets her in bohemian
surroundings, her emancipation is completed and she has "the full uniform
of the New Woman, flagrantly rejecting all formal contemporary notions
of female fashion" (ch. 60). She identifies herself with the New Woman
ideal not only in appearance but also in opinions — she does not wish to
19 If I used Robert Detweiler's terms of possessive relations (with which I am
acquainted from the abstract of his article "The Unity of John Fowles's Fiction",
Notes on Contemporary Literature, 1:2, March 197,1, 3-4, published in Abstracts of
English Studies, vol. 16, item 1990), the heroine, as she is the possessor, selects self-
-possession, not possession or the eventual possibility of being possessed. This under­
lines at the same time that the novelist is against possesion as the only sense of
life.

155
marry. Habituated to solitude by the past pressure of society, she feels
happy in the present situation unchanged; she would not be taken as she
really is outside of the unconventional environment and she knows it.
At this point the matter of the emancipated woman unexpectedly breaks
down the historical surface of the novel: the heroine symbolizes "cruel but
necessary (if we are to survive — and yes, still today) freedom" (ch. 48).
She has to get rid of the restrictions successfully so that a more human
world and relationships might be attained, as the leading motto express­
es. 20 Thus the idea of women's emancipation upheld by the philosophical
conception of the heroine becomes a part of a wider context, that is to say
of the further development of mankind, 21 which is guaranteed by the
freedom of both men and women.
It is the freedom theme that influences Fowles's creative method sub­
stantially. "Freedom to break rules" being the essence of his art, 22 he
experiments with all components of his novel by giving them "autonomy"
(ch. 13). He liberates the reader from passive acceptance and tries to hold
equal conversation with him; he uses novelistic techniques in the way of
a commentator; he unfolds events unexpectedly, especially in the anti­
climax as late as the last quarter of the book when the heroine is revealed
not to be "the French Lieutenant's Woman" at all, notwithstanding the
fact that the reader has been given references to this striking disclosure
(such as "She knew, or at least suspected, that there was a physical plea­
sure in love.", ch. 19, where the word "suspected" provides us with the
clue). 23 Sarah concentrates on herself the surprising turns of the plot,
which stresses her fundamental position in the novel. She also focuses
various attitudes towards the emancipated woman taken by the symbol­
ically conceived characters (Charles stands for the nobility, which is leav­
ing the historical scene, Mr. Freeman for the modern business enterpreneur,
Ernestina for an ideal woman of the age, Mrs. Poulteney for provincial
"public opinion", etc.). But being representative types and fictitious, the
characters are by no means diminished; they act out of their own nature,
supplied with the same independence as the other essential parts of the
book.
The author himself, forced to write — at least seemingly — in the
convention that "the novelist stands next to God" (ch. 13) by the historical
foundation of his work, departs from that tradition:
(a) He becomes one of the characters. He moves freely in the contour
of the past (he accompanies Charles) and in the present (he introduces 20th
20 Fowles believes that "the periods when men begin to pay attention to feminine
values are always ones of social and political advance", "A Novelist Looks at Poli­
tics", Morning Star (September 22, 1979).
21 This is consistent with Fowles's opinion of male and female roles in history
and also applied in the characters of Sarah and Charles: "Men tend to look back­
wards, women look forward. I associate men usually with fixed order, an intense
dislike of change, women with the very reverse." (ibidj.
22 Ibid.
23 Mr. Gindin observes this phenomenon in complexity: "Part of the pleasure
in reading Fowles's work inheres in appreciating a highly sophisticated detective
process, a piecing together of clues and references that carry a thematic meaning."
(op. cit, in Contemporary Novelists, p. 423).

156
century modes of thinking); he is also concerned with a sort of transition
between them (he conforms to Victorian days in appearance, while he
changes as the time of action progresses and he comes near to what "he
really is" in the concluding chapter). Nevertheless he as a personality re­
mains indistinct, preserving a touch of mystery that ought to be respected.
It is as if he wanted to suggest that the authorial intentions are not always
to be understood and thus to put a serious obstacle in the way of any
critical attempts.
(b) The book is not concluded omnisciently; as a result the novel has
three endings. The traditional end is presented first (ch. 44), modernized
by an anti-traditional look into Mrs. Poulteney's after-life. The remaining
two versions are alternatives (explained in ch. 55); the one is associated
with the present perspective (the male hero apparently finishes the quest
for his authenticity), the other with the perspective of the future (the
male hero will resume his search) and the latter is felt more plausible,
not only because in the writer's words, "the tyranny of the last chapter"
makes it seem so.
However, the existence of three endings is also coherent with the mo­
ments of surprise, as it is a display of opportunities in life and, as Gindin
has pointed out, "a demonstration that three different possible resolutions,
«ach characterizing a different possible perspective itself historically de­
finable toward the events of the novel, could be thoroughly consistent
with the issues and characters Fowles has set in motion". Vi The three
dimensions mentioned fill the work with the plasticity of space and enable
the reader to know and recognize the world; this knowledge is indispens­
able in order to make it more human, which is the writer's main purpose.
The past perspective, the frame of the present and future perspectives,
equals Fowles's conception of history. Being illusory to a certain extent,
history complies with possibilities of fiction. 25 But in contrast to the con­
temporary tendency in English prose, he cannot be reproached with ideal­
izing the past. Disapproving of pretence, he criticizes the whole era:
"its tumultuous life, its repressed emotion and facetious humour, its cautious
religion, its corrupt politics and immutable castes [.. .1 the deception was in
its very nature; and it was not human, but a machine." (ch. 48).
The past dimension is set against the present one. The novelist recognizes
that sentimental apprehensions of reality still exist while attitudes to time
and discovery are different; he finds the function of sex in contemporary
society to be equal to that of Church dogmas in the Victorian world. He
imbues the whole book with similar parallels. The constant confrontation
of both ages causes him besides to write traditionally, as I have pointed
out, and in new ways, which influences his language: he presents a Dorset
M Ibid.
25 This illusoriness contains one source of danger — it can lead to speculating
upon historical reality. For instance confront ch. 35 about Tryphena Sparks with
F. B. Pinion's conclusions: "That she [i. e. Tryphena Sparks — E. V.] was ever
Hardy's mistress is without solid foundation." Thomas Hardy's Alleged Son", Notes
•and Queries (IB : 7, July 1971, 255—256), quoted from Abstracts of English Studies
(vol. 15, item 1108).

157
dialect or Cockney speech on the one hand, and uses much of the modern
terminologies (psychological, biological, aesthetic, sociological, artistic ones)
on the other hand. He produces an interesting effect by combining diverse
vocabularies — for instance he describes love in the words of poetry and
in the terms of clinical psychology (ch. 31).
The perspective of the future is linked up to what Fowles considers to
be of a timeless value. He celebrates above all freedom, the broader con­
dition of the emancipation of woman, that it brings a great many pos­
sibilities, such as knowledge, experience and love. He therefore rejects the
Sartrean despair of life; full of "mysterious laws and mysterious choice"
(ch. 61), life has its own poetry and meaning, and "acting what one knows"
(ibid.) should be its basic rule. This emphasizes his humanism, which
elevates him above an unsound patriotism and a specialization in which
people cease to comprehend one another, which leads him to insist rather
on the harmonious development of humanity than on an imperfect moral
code.
However, the three perspectives seen through the mixed kaleidoscope
of quotations, reflections give much pleasure to the present-day reader
with an ample range of knowledge but impoverish the latter-day reader
who has to compare the ages of the Victorians, of the writer and of his
own with things of indeterminate value. That there can be too much even
of a good thing holds completely good here. In return, the dimensions
result in a specific semi-historical novel and release the author from the
tyranny of the genre. As a matter of fact he is aware of the problems
both in experience and in craftsmanship which the modern novelist has
to face.
I have not mentioned one important feature of Fowles's approach so far.
The novel might be considered a modern version in the Hardian tradition,
to a certain extent, with the exception of the appeal to intellect (by means
of knowledge of arts, sciences and the established system of values). Like
Hardy, he also impresses the feelings, he also presents the male character
in an epic and (slightly) tragic posture. When he invents his heroine, he
thinks of Sue whom Sarah resembles in her unpredictable free mind,
courageous enough to distance itself from traditional prejudices, which is
most evident in her sexual fulfilment beyond marital limits.
In contrast to Sue, Sarah is a successful feminist. According to Fowles,
women were not always tragic. Being in the right when they wanted to
develop their personalities, they had to liberate themselves from a hostile
epoch, otherwise the present-day level of progress could not be achieved.
This is his new contribution to the problem of the emancipation of the
Victorian heroine, which, completed by his fascinating command of crea­
tive devices and procedures, places the novel among the very remarkable
works of contemporary English literature.
EMANCIPACE VIKTORlANSKE HRDINKY
Autorka clanku sleduje emancipaci viktoriansk6 hrdinky a zpusob, jakym se jeji
koncepce promita do umeleckeho postupu romanopiscu tehdejsi a dnesnf doby.
George Meredith (Diana z Rozcesti, 1885) vytvafl novy typ hrdinky, kter£ doplfiu-

158
je sve city inteligenci. Obdobnym zpiisobem se v jeho tvurfii metode spojuje intelek-
tualni a emotivni pfistup.
Thomas Hardy (Sue v Neblahem Judovi, 1896) podfizuje emancipaci zeny social-
nimu zreteli, ktery v duchu kriticky realistick§ho romanu pfevazuje a jemu slouzi
promySlena stavba dila.
SouCasny autor John Fowles (Francouzova milenka, 1969) mysli pfi vytvafeni sve
hrdinky na Sue, jeji osud ale neni tragicky – nektere zeny totiz musely svou osobnost
rozvinout uspesne, jinak by se nedosahlo dneSnfho stupne pokroku. V torn spodiva
jeho modern! pfinos k emancipaci viktorianske hrdinky, umocneny tiokonalym zvlad-
nutim tvurCfch prostfedku, jei osvobozuje z tradiCniho zpiisobu psani.