Mary Barton does not lack for confession scenes or deathbeds. In a novel that sees murder and briefly scandalous inter-class romances, drama and suspense fill up the space under the limelight. Innocent twins die, swashbuckling pirates tumble into the courtroom to deliver last-minute testimony, men seethe over dark thoughts of vengeance. The stakes of almost every action seem just as high: at one point or another, Mary Barton’s innocence, Jem’s life, and John Barton’s life all teeter on the line. Thick with perils and surprises, the plot keeps a close grip over the reader’s imagination and heartstrings.
The novel is sentimental for almost the same reasons that it is suspenseful. Mary Barton’s scenes indulge in extravagant, theatrical displays of grief and joy as they capture the audience’s attention. Every emotion accordingly comes amplified, accentuated. Mary does not merely testify at trial—she becomes a picture of beautiful female helplessness, eyes “turned up to that Heaven, where mercy dwelleth, while her blue lips quivered.” Mrs. Wilson swoons at the service of summons, crying out for the loss of her only child while making desperate appeals to God. Towards the end of the novel, even the stony Mr. Carson breaks down into a puddle. Mary Barton stages human emotion in some of its most raw and unfiltered forms.
However perilous its trials, the novel pivots towards feelings of comfort as well. Nostalgia weaves itself into the dying Alice Wilson’s childhood memories, and the shame-ridden Esther longs for her former purity. The novel contrasts the opium-addicted, murderous John Barton with his happier former self. Mary Barton seeks solace in the past, and it betrays a yearning for simpler, unspoiled times. While the work never reaches this, it comes as close to picture-perfect as possible. Mary and Jem immigrate to Canada, start a family, and begin a blissful new life. For all its moments of tension and heartbreak, the novel resolves itself in a feel-good, happily-ever-after ending.