The Shuttle by Frances Hodgson Burnett ~ 1906. This edition: Frederick A. Stokes, 1907. Hardcover. 512 pages.
My rating: 8.5/10
Coming late to the party with this book, I am. I had added it to my Century of Books must-acquire list because of numerous enthusiastic recommendations from other bloggers, and I am thrilled to be able to report that those who gave it the nod were completely correct. It’s an absolutely grand read.
I understand that the currently in-print edition published by Persephone has been edited somewhat, and I can’t help but wonder what they cut out. I’m not terribly concerned that it would have ruined the story – this is a very long book with abundant authorial wanderings just slightly off-topic here and there – but it was intriguing to read the early, as-published text in this lovely vintage edition and speculate as to where it could be gently trimmed.
And golly, I just realized that the book I’m holding in my hands (well, it’s actually sitting on top of the printer beside the computer, but it was just being held in my hands) is a genuine antique. One hundred and seven years old. That’s rather a pleasant thought. It’s travelled through the decades very well indeed, both in physical condition and in staying power of contents.
If you are one of the few of my readers who hasn’t yet tackled The Shuttle, here is a plot summary of sorts.
There were once, in the later years of the 19th century, two American millionaire’s daughters, eighteen-year-old Rosalie (Rosy) and ten-years-younger Bettina (Betty) Vanderpoel. It was just at the time of the first awareness by impoverished English gentlemen of the nobility – second, third and fourth sons, as it were – that here was a rather well-stocked hunting ground for well-dowered wives, who would be willing to exchange the country of their birth and a goodly portion of their fathers’ wealth for an English title and a stately ancestral home. In the best of these transactions, gone into with eyes wide open, both parties benefitted and a certain degree of happy felicity resulted, but occasionally the meeting of American feminine independence and English masculine traditionalist views on the necessity for a wife to submit to her husband’s superior judgement ended in disaster.
Guess which kind of marriage sweet, frail, loving and deeply innocent Rosy Vanderpoel made?
Falling for the seductive wiles of Sir Nigel Anstruthers, Rosy trots innocently off to England, but the honeymoon voyage is not even half over before she realizes that she has yoked herself to a malicious and sadistically abusive man. Sir Nigel is a rotter through and through. He despises not only his new wife, but her family and her country and her ideas and her expectations of at least a modicum of domestic happiness. His bitter disappointment at Rosy’s father’s insistence at leaving the control of her fortune in her own hands and not in her husband’s has Sir Nigel seething; he has hidden his true nature well, but now that the shores of the new world are receding he is preparing to gain control of Rosy’s share of the Vanderpoel millions for himself.
Competently reducing meek Rosy to a grey shadow of her former self, Sir Nigel succeeds in cutting her completely off from her American family, but for the occasional letter requesting more funds. Three babies are born; the first a son, who is born crippled due to his pregnant mother being physically assaulted by Sir Nigel; two little daughters die young.
Ten years pass.
Back in America, Betty Vanderpoel has never forgotten her beloved older sister, and can’t quite believe that the cessation of relations is by Rosy’s wish. (Betty had never liked Sir Nigel, and he returned the scorn she viewed him with in spades.) Taking her father into her confidence, Betty announces that she is going to go to England and see for herself how Rosy is faring. And off she goes, with her father’s blessing and his millions behind her.
What she finds is beyond her worst expectations. Rosy, aged beyond her years, lives a dreary life shut up in a decrepit mansion staffed by sullen servants, her only companion her hunchbacked ten-year-old son, Ughtred. (Aside to author re: “Ughtred”. What the heck, Frances Hodgson Burnett? That is absolutely bizarre. What were you thinking???!) Anyway, the estate is mouldering away while Sir Nigel pursues his merry way a-spending Rosy’s money on mistresses and riotous living abroad; he returns only to indulge himself in spousal abuse and to browbeat Rosy into sending another brief letter to Papa requesting more money to maintain his little grandson’s estate.
Betty, made of much sterner stuff than Rosy, swoops in like an avenging goddess, and the majority of the rest of the book consists of the rehabilitation of Rosy, Ughtred, the estate and the attached village full of grateful rurals. Sir Nigel reappears to find his despised sister-in-law very much in control of things, and their ensuing battle of wills, Rosy’s deeply good against Sir Nigel’s blackly wicked, is a gloriously entertaining thing.
Oh, and there is a further development. The next estate over belongs to another impoverished nobleman, this one the sole survivor of a long succession of bad eggs. But is Lord Mount Dunstan really as deeply black as his spendthrift, now-deceased elder brother, and the heedless ancestors before him, or is he sullen merely because he feels so darned bad about the decrepit state of his hereditary acres? Any guesses?
I will stop right here, because you can now likely guess the ending from what I’ve just said. Nope, no surprises here. But how the author gets us to the inevitable conclusion is deeply diverting. And how genuinely engaging and interesting her various characters are, from meek Rosy to divinely competent Betty to nasty Sir Nigel and his equally nasty old mother to misunderstood-but-really-deeply-noble Mount Dunstan to random American typewriter salesman G. Selden (who makes up a merry little sideplot himself, what with his precipitous entry via bicycle wreck at the very door of the Anstruther mansion) to busy millionaire Reuben Vanderpoel – what a glorious cast!
I loved this story! It’s a proper saga. Such a treat to have a black and white, good-versus-evil, you know who to root for and who to boo and hiss at sort of thing!
And it does reflect some very real historical happenings, such as the astounding trans-Atlantic traffic in (relatively) poor English noblemen and wealthy American heiresses which took place from the 1860s well into the early 1900s. Fictional Rosy Vanderpoel is represented as being one of the earlier of the transplanted rich girls, and her story is based solidly on fact, though with artistic license in her particular details.
A grand exposition on both American and British social structure of the late nineteenth century, with abundant detail and a whole lot of humour. What a good book, in an old-fashioned novel-ish sort of way. If you haven’t read it already, may I suggest that you consider adding it to your Must-Read list, in any edition you can get your hands on? As the publisher’s poster claims, it is a masterpiece.
Edited to add this note on the heroine’s wee little nephew’s name, Ughtred. At first I thought, “No way! This can’t be a real name.” But then a commenter said something about old Saxon names, and the penny dropped. Of course. A bit of internet research (what did we do before Google?!) turned up just a few references, enough to show that Frances Hodgson Burnett did indeed know her stuff. Here we are, then, references from several genealogy websites. (And I did not bookmark the references; bad researching practice, I know. Don’t tell the teens in my family, as this is a constant refrain from me when they are doing online research: “Reference your sources!”)
English: from the rare Old English personal name Uhtred, composed of the elements uht dawn + red counsel, advice. This is a very uncommon given name in the English-speaking world, but remains in use in the Shuttleworth family.
and
The name “Ughtred” is of Saxon origin, and means “early to counsel”. There were several Ughtreds (also spelt Hurard, Uctred, etc), the first (who did not carry the “de Bradshaw” or “of Bradshaw” surname) was, apparently, living near Preston, Lancashire at the time of the Norman Conquest in 1066. He was a “King’s Thane”, that is an trusted retainer of the Saxon King, and he probably held his office by guarding the King’s hunting preserve because he is sometimes called “Forester” or “King’s Sergeant”. He or his son, or grandson, had a brother named Alan de Bradshaw, who held lands in Harwood, near Bradshaw Village. One early descendant was Robert de Bradshaw, a Crusader who died under the wall at Acre, in the Holy Land, circa 1189 A.D…
So there it is. A name with a genuine and quite fascinating history. But I still pity the poor kid in The Shuttle. Crippled from before birth by his wicked father, and then saddled with this. It’s even more eyebrow-raising than Little Lord Fauntleroy’s Cedric. Wonder what his (Ughtred’s) middle name (names) is (are)?
The publisher’s American publicity poster from 1907.
Leaves & Pages 
Wonderful review! I will definitely be looking for this book. If just for the sake of Ughtred.
It’s grand! You will not be disappointed. 🙂
I enjoyed this one, though it went almost too over the top for me toward the end. And seriously, Ughtred?! She could at least have explained it’s an old family name, from the glorious Saxon past – or something! And what about Mr. Ffolliott? I think Betty will have to take that in hand as well. I was lucky enough to find a 1907 version as well – a wonderful thing to hold.
Totally over the top at the end! I’m thinking of course of the attempted rape scene in the derelict cottage and everything that transpires from that bit onward. But what a grand villain Sir Nigel is, and how we glory in his self-inflicted crash-and-burn. (At least, I did. I cheered for his downfall with great glee.) What do you think his “weakness” was? I’m speculating something truly nasty, perhaps a little something he “picked up” during his promiscuous philandering abroad. 😉
Dear Frances Hodgson Burnett — her adult novels are so reliably wackadoo. Ughdred indeed. Is there any crazy spiritualism stuff? That took me totally off guard when I was reading The Head of the House of Coombe and Robin; it felt like it came out of left field.
No spiritualism in this one, just a minor discussion of “Life-Force” which was easily breezed through. Our heroine is a very down-to-earth and hands-on type of gal, no dreamy stuff about her, on no, indeed!
Absolute fairy-tale type of thing, though, in the very best way. I do wish I had unlimited wealth behind me like dear Betty had, plus an ironclad constitution and a strong sense of purpose. Plus she’s *gorgeous*. And nice. And she loves little children. And flowers. And horses. (Her main steed is called Childe Harold.) And she has a faithful mastiff. (That would be Roland.) And everyone and everything (except nasty Sir Nigel) loves her right back. But though this sounds a bit gaggy, in reality it isn’t at all. She’s a sweetie, and we’re totally on her team. 😉
I deliberately did not read your summary because I want to read this book with as little prior knowledge as possible. At one point in time I looked up the two other famous children’s books by the author of The Secret Garden and found them surprisingly good, but that’s where it stopped. I had no idea she had written so many other books. Her Wikipedia entry and a New York Times article about her Long Island sojourn are fascinating.
I related to the heroine of The Secret Garden because I too lived as a little girl overseas in a very hot country taken care of by servants while my parents were out at parties. Luckily for me my story diverged in that I had four siblings and we all survived along with our parents and moved back to the States. The transformation of Mary from an under-nourished, yellow-skinned, and self-centered little girl to a healthy red-cheeked one running around on the Yorkshire moors with Dickon, Colin and the animals is one of my favorite transformations in all of literature.
Frances Hodgson Burnett did write a lot of books, and she did lead a fascinating life. I too was only familiar with the children’s books until just a few years ago. The Shuttle is the first of her adult books I’ve read, and from what I hear it is one of the best. I think you will enjoy it. 🙂
How interesting that your life has parallels with that of the Secret Garden’s Mary! So very glad that your parents did not perish as dreadfully as Mary’s did in the book! 😉
The Secret Garden is one of my own very special books. I read it over and over while I was in school, and it was one of the first children’s books I bought when we started our family. I read it aloud to my own children, and they loved it just as much. Every year in late winter I think of the walled garden coming alive, and Mary’s joy at finding the little green shoots of the bulbs coming up, and her caring so deeply about bringing the garden back to life – in the process transforming herself and Colin. Marvelous, for any age of reader.
The Secret Garden was one of my favorite childhood books, and I also liked The Lost Prince. Of her adult books, some of my favorites were The Making of a Marchioness and its sequel The Methods of Lady Walderhurst, T. Tembarom, and Through One Administration (a different sort of ending for her).
I’ve not yet read The Lost Prince. But The Secret Garden and A Little Princess – countless times! The adult novels are new territory for me. I have Robin and T. Tembarom waiting to be read – glad to hear you giving T. Tembarom a recommendation. 🙂
I really enjoyed this one too – I initially read the Persephone reprint, but so much wanted to know what was missed out that I found an online version of the original. I *loved* Bettina, I had to devote 3 blog entries to the book because she was such a modern heroine, so dashing and brave. It’s all so melodramatic and OTT, but then she tells the wicked lord that he’d only have had to be a little bit nicer and her sister would have loved him. What a note of strange economic realism! Loved it.
Bettina is so darned sensible! I love the bit where she’s injured and is at the mercy of her brother-in-law’s nefarious intentions and he’s all “You stay right here. I’m going to hide the horses so no one will know we’re in this abandoned cottage and be able to come in and rescue you, my tempting little hussy, bwa-ha-ha!” and she thinks to herself, “He expects me to sit here with my injured ankle and wait for him to come back and have his way with me. Well, what an idiot! I think I shall crawl away and hide, instead.” And she does. Very successfully.
Nice blend of absolute melodrama and good old common sense. 🙂
I really enjoyed this book. Great story.
I started this book a few years ago but about 1/3 in my interest flagged. I think it was actually because of the black and white, good versus evil setup…Sometimes those straight-out evil characters just make me so uncomfortable! But your review, along with my admitted enjoyment of everything else Francis Hodgson Burnett, might inspire me to give it another go!
I was rather sceptical as to whether I would be able to get through this one, but early in I was hooked. In a different sort of mood I could have easily ripped this one apart – the scenarios are definitely full of potential for mockery, but I found myself lulled into just letting go of my 21st century cynicism and being carried away by FHB’s romantic melodrama. 😉
So do try it again! Maybe some time in the future, when you are in the right mood, because I think that is definitely a factor in how well one can digest this sort of thing.
Or then again, sometimes “never” is the right time, lol. That’s why book stores are packed so full of stuff we (collectively) never even glance at – what would it be, do you think, about 95% ignore to 5% catch-our-interest?! Obviously the other 95% of the population is reaching for something else! 🙂
Delightful review, Barb! You’ve made me want to pull my copy off the shelf and start rereading it right away. I adore Betty and though I feel that the melodramatic ending lets the book down a little (would Betty really act that way? Our forceful, practical Betty?) that doesn’t make it any less entertaining.
A really fun read, isn’t it? And guess what I’m reading right now and liking a whole lot? Christopher and Columbus by Elizabeth von Arnim. 🙂 Your recommendations are proving to be most apt, Claire. (And everyone else’s, as well!) So many new things to read, oh joy!
I re-read Hilary Mantel’s Bring Up the Bodies last week (after seeing a play of it) and found that Jane Seymour’s sister Elizabeth (who will play an increasing part in the trilogy) is the widow of a Sir Anthony Ughtred, also spelled Oughtred, which somehow looks slightly better doesn’t it? Still wouldn’t call a child that, but it was interesting to see…
I’m starting to feel a bit bad about being so snarky, but that name *did* hit me like a ton of bricks. OK, make the poor child a hunchback, injured in the womb by his father’s hand, and then call him “Ughtred”. Wow, double (triple) whammy…! 😉
And now we’ll be seeing that name, and variations, absolutely everywhere! 🙂 As you have just noted.
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I think Nigel, his father named him just to hurt Rosy.
🙂