Dear Ashton,

Thank you for your links. I have read all and found some things to be useful. However, when I looked up the index for NA, there was nothing to click on. I am particularly interested in this novel, as it is my focus for comparing JA and Mary Shelley. I am interested in Henry Tilney and his combination of both feminine and masculine characteristics. For example, his knowledge on muslin, his liking for the gothic and novels in general (a literary style stereotyped and directed at and for women as it was considered in the time, as inferior writing, emotive and often too passionate and definitely secondary "literature" - a style almost reluctantly given to women who insisted on writing, especially when the market forces showed a demand for some female attention in a traditionally male dominated literary field), are female characteristics - or rather typical of feminine ideals - as cast from the masculine literary and traditional authority, of course. On the other hand, he is very quick to feed Catherine's imagination with the gothic tropes and storyline which he knows she will fall for (assumedly because she is a woman). Then there are his constant insistances that women must like flowers, in order to exercise, and that Catherine had a journal because that's what women do.

Anyway, this is my interest, without getting too complicated about my thesis. If there is some useful discussion somewhere already aired, please direct me to it. If there isn't, I would love to chat about his idiosyncrasies, which a seemingly new in a male character.  Surely Austen was saying or implying something about men in his characteristics and oddly feminine mix within an equally male character.

I look forward to any comments,
Kind regards,
Ros

Dear Ros,

I read your interesting post, thought, started to answer, stopped, went and did the milking, and now I'm ready to have a go.  It may be that I have misunderstood your direction completely, and if so, feel free to tell me to pull my head in, but, here goes: I really don't think that Jane Austen was trying to make any feminist points in her creation of Henry Tilney, nor do I think that she was trying to characterise him as an 'unusual' male.  Northanger Abbey to me is an elegant, well-drawn, light-hearted satire on a popular literary genre of the day.  The novel was written when its author was very young, by the time it was published, it had lost some of its topicality, but, to me, it has always rated higher than Sense and Sensibility, which I find clumsy.

Henry Tilney is most like Elizabeth Bennet, in his quickness of speech, but young Catherine actually holds her own surprisingly well in their encounters. I suspect that Jane Austen was merely portraying man as she knew him - there is no intrinsic reason why brothers should not, then as now, be capable of buying clothes or fabric (remembering the expensive constraints on travel at the time, it is actually likely that men did quite a bit of this sort of thing), and if by mentioning 'flower gardens' and 'journals' you mean that Henry is trying to put Catherine 'in her place', then I must disagree. I think Henry pays Catherine the compliment of speaking to her as an intellectual equal - which she is not, of course - but she manages to respond to him with a native, if niave, intelligence, which must contribute to  his ultimate attraction to her.  He teases her, of course, but he gives several instances of his respect for her basic goodness and good sense.

Remember, the gist of the novel is simple satire on a contemporary genre that Jane Austen read, enjoyed, and laughed at.

Are you an Australian, as Ashton suggests? If so, where from?

Very best wishes for your thesis,
Julie

Dear Ros,

It is too true, Northanger Abbey has been neglected too long at this web site. Julie Grassi has tried to open a discussion of that novel, but the community has been unresponsive. That will change now that you have joined us.

I realize that you are only beginning to formulate your thesis and will reformulate and then reformulate again in these preliminary stages. I would guess that to be the nature of academic work. It must be a lonely and slightly frightening process. Do I understand this correctly? Do you see Tilney as a man in touch with his feminine side as evidenced by his familiarity with that literature considered to be "by women for women"? If so, my first question is what are you suggesting for Jane Austen's intent? Do you think that she was drawing a picture of what a man should be or was she perhaps unconsciously reflecting the attitudes of her times? I would guess that you should begin by making very clear just what you believe Jane Austen was about with this novel.

In that regard, I have some observations - rather, opinions to offer. I don't think Jane Austen thought very highly of gothic novels, particularly those authored by Mrs. Radcliffe. I think she referenced them not to indicate the femininity but, rather, the naiveté and immaturity of Catherine. So, if true, you will have to overcome this interpretation in order to prove the reading of these novels to be a indication of a feminine side. As to attributing "emotive" to femininity, I would point out that The Sorrows of Young Werter was published about the time of Jane Austen's birth and was supremely emotive, but was read by most men. You may know of the legend that publication of that novel lead to a mighty increase in the suicide rate amongst young men. Also, the romantic period was just getting under way; Byron had begun to publish at about the same time as Jane Austen and was very popular. So, how will you prove that "emotive" was a regency-period stereotype of women? Along the same lines, Jane Austen's father and brothers were great novel readers and they were seriously masculine. (It is easy for any man to talk macho, but the Austen Brothers "walked the walk".) It seems to me that Jane Austen was raised in a sea of testosterone and buoyed by a clan of loving, novel-reading men.

It is clear that you read Tilney as condescending to Catherine and, yes, I can see a bit of that. The difference is that you attribute his condescension to the fact that she is a woman (you truly are a feminist, aren't you?) To me it is because she is so naive and not yet mature. Tell me this - this is crucial to your point of view - do you imagine that Tilney looks at Catherine any differently than does Jane Austen herself? The crucial passage in this regard is that in which Tilney lectures to Catherine after he discovers that she has invented this gothic mystery about his family. Great passage! But don't you think that Jane Austen is speaking, through Tilney, to all the Catherines of the world? How do you read that passage? - It certainly is condescending.

In the United States, an interest in flowers is seen as effeminate and maybe the same attitude prevails in Australia - I have no idea. But, tell me, is that the attitude in England? I always thought that not to be the case.

How will you "compare" Jane Austen and Mary Shelly? Do you see them as contrasting or as alike in some way? It is hard for me to imagine two women who came from such radically different family backgrounds. The one woman from a supportive, Tory family, and the other from a family of political and social radicals who may have offered more sexual abuse than support. Do you see something of the gothic in Frankenstein, I think that I see such a thing.

Regards,
Ashton

Dear Ashton,

I am truly sorry for using the word "emotive".  It was very late and I actually spent a good deal of time last night trying to put my thesis into a few paragraphs but when I went back to your first reply to check if I had addressed everything, the letter I drafted on the message page had disappeared.  Being close to midnight, I gave up and wrote only a little message, but I am sorry emotive was the word I chose, because your points about the literature were of course correct.  I am well aware of that.

In answering your second reply I have this time taken down points in a notebook so as not to lose this message.  I feel Austen's intent with Henry is positive.  He represents what a man in her time could and should be like. My background research to the era represents a huge amount of negativity towards women, especially those who wished to "invade" the literary world.  With Austen's personal experience infused into her work (a point I agree upon with the likes of various theorists) I really do believe that Henry Tilney is representative what a man should be like (ie. her brothers).

Ideas about Jane Austen and Northanger Abbey are still new to me, but as I have delved into her story I do consciously make a connection between the two authors, Jane Austen and Mary Shelley.  The Gothic style they chose to utilize as their platform to air their social comments is important.  For Shelley, it was a style she masters to perfection.  Austen on the other hand, deconstructs the very nature of the gothic and the full force of the gothic machinery is nullified and purposefully 'unshocking'. Both authors used the gothic tropes to full advantage in making a successful social commentary about their era.  Of course there are a great many issues in each of the books (Frankenstein and NA) but essentially my focus is on the points (perhaps, conclusions) each woman could have been making. My argument on Frankenstein was based on the dichotomy of the world - gender, role, behaviour, social positions etc. Eventually this is part of my connection to Austen and Henry Tilney.

Austen's male hero is one that shares a knowledge of both female and male characteristics. On the one hand he is guilty of being attracted to Catherine for her ignorance. Austen leads the reader into this line of thought, when she lectures to her readers the traditional "advantages of natural folly in a beautiful girl", which is essentially that "imbecility in females is a great enhancement of their personal charms". Catherine, Austen reveals, "did not know her own advantages - did not know that a good-looking girl, with an affectionate heart and a very ignorant mind, cannot fail of attracting a clever young man..." Henry seems the typical male who recognizes this ignorance. Moreover, the comment about the flowers is quite condescending but it was a line of thought that existed at the time.  Henry tells Catherine that "a taste for flowers is always desirable in your sex, as a means of getting you out of doors, and tempting you to more frequent exercise than you would otherwise take."  (It is important to note that Catherine at this time is growing as a moral individual and chooses to disagree with Henry on this point).

This type of image that Henry has of women seems very damaging, but he also seems to be a peculiarly different type of man when he states in conversation to Catherine that he believes that "In every power, of which taste is the foundation, excellence is pretty fairly divided between the sexes." He is a character who I see as cast from a different mould (in comparison with Shelley's Victor Frankenstein for example) - possessing both traditionalism and new-ageism. His taste and passion for the gothic genre puts him into a class of men that appears to view life as a more open and even playing field for the genders. Most impressively, his character is not ridiculed, nor does he appear in any way less masculine.

It is this very combination which leaves me, as a reader, a little confused as to Austen's intentions.  However, I am leaning to a position which suggests that she was experimenting with a character that would uphold a wonderfully gallant view of a new and improved male way of thought, but it was a little radical, so she had to have the traditional ideals in him as well. In this way Austen differs from Shelley. Shelley's view was much more critical of the male way of life and her novel presents a world in which masculinity rules with an abusive hand and an unsensitive mind.

In your reply you note that Austen didn't think highly of the gothic novel and I agree. She tore it to pieces - deconstructing every part of the genre down to its foundations. She experimented with the very nature of novel writing in general.  Her controlled playfulness is evident everywhere.  The heroine is in fact almost an "anti-heroine".  There are two possible heros, not one, and the very normal heroine gets to choose which one she ends up with. This is evidence of a young mind racing, willing to try and be adventurous in her strategies. Even the conclusion is hurried and wrapped up to a finality which is unexpected, yet expected at the same time, for she tells the reader that she must bring the novel to its conclusion. She plays with  manipulates convention, to the point that her gothic novel is considered as unconventional in every way, except that in the end the heroine gets her hero.

This point, Austen's control and experimentation with the very nature of the literary structures strengthens my argument for the idea that the novel can be an avenue for learning and education, just as much as an instructional tract or pamphlet. Of course it cannot be expected to reach as high a level as the philosophical theories, or even the fine poetry of the times, but the novel need not be given the guilty penalty as a feminine therefore secondary and inferior literary work. Austen herself states in the famous "Defense of the Novel" that writers of novels have so much been "decried".

It is supported in my thesis that there was a general fear or anxiety that the gothic and novels in general would lead to the moral corruption of women, so there had to be a policing of the contents a guideline as to what was suitable etc. Jane Austen's novel shows a female who reads novels and is not corrupted morally. If anything, she learns and is morally active rather than passive to the suggestions and emotions she experiences in her social reality and gothic fantasy. It is a positive statement which some see as Austen celebrating reading women.  Moreover, they don't always have to be portrayed as the typical victim. The Radcliffian gothic which Catherine reads do not in any way morally corrupt her. The stories are just a form of entertainment. Austen is again perhaps suggesting a point for a better role in the gothic. It can easily be a stage for one to voice their opinions.  This point is especially important in my thesis. Austen and Shelley both used the gothic to make their social comments, but they did it in a way that, in their time, was acceptable.

Well, that's the jist of the argument.  What are your thoughts?
Kind regards
Ros

Dear Ros,

You asked for my thoughts. My first thought is that Ros writes extremely well and is intelligent, focused, and knowledgeable. You are sincere, energetic, and organized. There is no doubt whatsoever that you will write a successful and coherent thesis. (I know that you will not allow yourself to think those things, but, as you will see, it is not my intention to shield you from the truth.) My second thought is "good Lord, how can I change this woman's mind?".

First of all, allow me to point to something that actually supports your thesis to some extent. Jane's Oxford brothers invented and published a student paper, the Loiterer, for a short time. Two biographers, Park Honan and Claire Tomalin, both judge the Loiterer as anti-novel and, perhaps, demeaning of women. I especially recommend Honan's treatment; I think that treatment especially complete and it plays into your hand as your hand currently stands. (There are a number of little interesting asides in this story; for example, it appears that they allowed their thirteen-year-old sister, Jane, to publish in this college publication under an assumed name.)

Even at this preliminary stage, your thesis is too well written and documented to be vulnerable to attack on individual points - well done. My strategy will be to question the underlying philosophy of your approach.

I begin with an observation: Great art is about the truth and so a person will see that same subset of things in great art that she focuses on in real life. Jane Austen was great artist. Not everyone sees that at first because of all the apparent simplicity and because of the descriptions of relatively calm events. It is a judgement that grows on one. Jane Austen was a great artist and so a feminist can take from Jane's novels what she would take from her own surroundings and be well satisfied. But, was it Jane's intent to be a feminist? I don't think so; she knew too much to argue or to judge in that way. As proof, I contend that her novels are too well balanced for them to be interpreted in the way that you have chosen. Some men do condescend to some women, in my experience and, so, in Northanger Abbey. It is a part of the human condition. However, another representative of the human condition in NA is Isabella Thorpe. Do you not think it possible that someone determined to prove that women are manipulative mercenaries could also use Northanger Abbey to prove her point? Let me say this another way: Are the Isabella Thorpes of the world represented in the novels written by the feminist ideologues of our day? And what about the Aunt Norrises, Fanny Dashwoods, Mrs. Eltons, Lucy Steeles, and Mary Crawfords of the world? I may not have to go all the way back to the Regency in order to find a woman who wrote truthfully about women - and men, but I can't find that sort of thing in my generation.

Correct me if I am wrong: Jane Austen was only one of a very large number of women novelists publishing in her time. I mean she wasn't even the first woman in her family to publish a novel; so, for her to write a novel was no great innovation. Secondly, explicit feminist philosophies were being published in both France and England by woman (and men) who would be considered radical even by today's standards. Why would this great writer think to publish a muted feminist whisper in the aggressive, radical hurricane then blowing?

I can guess why you would like to connect Jane Austen and Mary Shelly - because the last novel of the one was published in the same year, 1818, as the first novel as the other. There is one great difference between the two I think. Jane Austen wrote novels because she was compelled to by her artistic nature. It was expected of Mary Shelly that she would write, I mean her father groomed her for that sort of thing. It was also expected of her that she would be a radical feminist like her mother. I think, if anything, she disappointed her father in this regard. Mary's husband also encouraged Mary to write, he even wrote the preface to Frankenstein for her. There can be little doubt that Percy also expected great feminist creations from this wife.

Personally, I find your analysis of the quite different use of the gothic made by the two women to be excellent. Bravo. My only hope is that you can bear to continue a conversation with an old grouch.

Regards,
Ashton

Dear Ben,

Re: Yours of 10/12/98.

The Meister will tell you that Jane Austen wrote love stories, and this is undeniably true. At least, she wrote stories about love and marriage as she knew and understood them and I think it's quite important to bear in mind when we read the novels that two young people contemplating marriage would probably not have been the starry-eyed romantics we would expect them to be today. Marriage was quite a different animal then, and "ideal" marriages as we know them didn't exist. We might want it to be different, and in reading the novels I know I suspend my disbelief in order to enjoy the romantic element all the more, but for your purposes, it might be as well to put some of the marriages in Pride and Prejudice into the social context in which they were written.

It is no accident that only about 40% of women married at all in Austen's day. Many couldn't find a big enough dowry to tempt a man. The lucky ones who could look forward to the chance of an offer being made to them could find themselves torn between the undeniable importance of being financially and socially "saved" and the very good reasons, of which there were several, for not going near marriage with a bargepole. Many women fortunate enough to have reliable male relations-like Jane Austen herself-chose spinsterhood.

It's not hard to see why. The young bride, after all, gave up any property or wealth she had held as a single woman and became the property of her husband. She could be committed to a mental asylum on his say-so, be divorced by him but have not be able to divorce him, have her children taken from her and be, in short,completely at the mercy of his every whim.

If she was lucky and had a good,kind husband like Mr.Gardiner,this might not be so bad, but she still had the prospect of more or less continuous states of pregnancy to contend with, the pain of childbirth without anaesthetics, the heartbreak of losing about a quarter of her babies through miscarriage and infant death, and the very real fear of dying in childbirth herself. Some estimates put the chances of this at 2 to 1 for older women.

Mr.Darcy would love his wife enough to wish to spare her these hardships. He might grit his teeth and practice sexual abstinence-the only reliable and acceptable form of contraception. George Wickham,though, would be more likely to feel the need for seeking comfort from some of the many, many thousands of prostitutes who inhabited the towns and cities. Diseased prostitutes,so that he would go back to Lydia bearing more than a bunch of flowers!

It's not a romantic picture, on the whole, but happy marriages, such as the Gardiners' did exist and the notion of marrying for love was gaining ground in Austen's day as matters slowly improved. I don't think that Jane would have seen the whole business of courtship and marriage through rose-coloured glasses, but believed women should marry for love because love made marriage supportable, not because it made it "ideal". Of course she doesn't present us with gritty realism-and we don't want her to any more than her contemporary audience wanted her to-but she knew what Elizabeth Bennet was getting into when she accepted Darcy, so did her contemporaries and so, perhaps, should we.

Dear Kate and Ben,

Kate is quite right, and gave a first-class picture of what was in store for women of the period when they married. One dreadful point: When Wickham came back from that diseased prostitute, bearing his smelly little bunch of flowers, his wife was by law compelled to have sexual intercourse with him - even if he had diagnosed venereal disease.  This remained the case in England for a great many years after Jane Austen died - until almost the beginning of the twentieth century, I think.  And, what's more,  a married woman could not keep any of her earnings.  Suppose a woman separated from her husband.  Any money she brought to the marriage was his, so she left with nothing. Any money she earned after their separation was his also - she could not legally keep any of her own income to feed herself, if he chose to pursue her.  As a matter of fact, she could be legally compelled to return to her husband.  This is not to say that all men were fiends preying on their hapless wives, of course, but the fact remains that a married woman's welfare depended on the goodwill of her husband, and was not protected by law.

Emma's speech to Harriet regarding 'old maids' becomes more interesting, when these points are borne in mind - Harriet exclaims that to be an old maid at last would be so dreadful!  Emma replies that it is not spinsterhood, but poverty, that makes a single woman  ridiculous - a narrow old maid - the proper sport of boys and girls (Emma is still quite the little Miss at this point of her career)!  She then goes on to describe a much more civilised picture - a single woman of means.  Emma understood well enough that money can command respect.

Jane Austen herself, in one of her private letters, commented on the situation of her niece, Anna Lefroy - Anna married young, and (too) soon after the birth of her first child, was reported by her husband as being unwell, and unable to walk over to visit - 'we know what that means!  Poor animal!  She will be worn out (with childbearing) by the time she is thirty!'

A lot to think about, as they walked down the aisle!
Julie

Dear Julie and Kate,

Umm, were your messages really intended for Ben? (Commonwealth women can be so sly.)

I think that both of you needlessly confuse marriage contracts with the common law. It is true that a women's money could become her husband's, but only if that was the kind of prenuptial contract she signed. The same is true today and there is nothing wrong with that; a contract is a contract. To make my case, I will refer to that person whom both of you claims to be primarily a social historian. I would never make such a judgment; but I know that you might be persuaded if I quote Jane Austen. This is from the second paragraph of Sense and Sensibility:

It certainly is true that childbirth then was more dangerous than now. It makes me very sad to know that the Austen brothers did not take steps to prevent the deaths of their first wives from the stress of too many births. However, that is a far more interesting failure than either of you is suggesting. French women of that time were using the contraceptive sponge (with vinegar as the spermicide); but, for some sad reason, the practice was not taken up in England (except, of course, at Pemberley - Darcy insisted upon it). This is a curious and puzzling historical fact. You must have wondered how Josephine could sleep around like that without carrying any consequences. The Austen's cousin, Eliza, had lived and loved in France; she had no children from her marriage to brother Henry Austen, so maybe she brought her French ways to that bed (say! do you think that means they--well, let us not go there).

I was wondering - what was the penalty for refusing to snog a scabby husband? Did a randy Wickham call in the magistrate along with the apothecary? Boy - all of this sure has turned my understanding of the world upside down! My view has always been that women manage men. There are exceptions of course, but for the most part the woman manages the man. And that has nothing to do with any laws. It has to do with biology, culture, and, most importantly, it has to do with an artful use of mythology. Show me the unmanageable husband and I will show you a disappointed and lonely man - and an unhappy and embarrassed wife in the bargain.

Ashton

Dear Sir,

Now, I hope to be corrected if I am wrong, as I have no contemporary legal books to hand, but I don't think your reference to the Dashwood estate makes any difference to Kate's and my point re married women and property.

Money was commonly settled on the future children at the time of marriage. I suppose this would protect the interests of those children, should a second marriage take place. But this does not alter the fact that all moneys and possesions of a woman became her husband's upon her marriage. This continued to be true until the Married Women's Property Act of ..... somebody help me, please! I can't remember. I have a lovely anecdote somewhere (true), about a group of English ladies campaigning for legal rights for women. They were giving a speech to a group of farmers, and were being quite well received, until one man asked the question 'Do you mean to say that if my wife inherits money from her father, I have to ask her for permission to spend it?'. The answer was 'yes', upon which the whole group turned about-face and went home. Such an idea was outlandish.

And none of this makes any difference to who was dominant in the organisation of the family, either. Laws are not enacted to manage people who are law-abiding alreadly.  Jane Austen does, actually, give us glimpses of bad marriages. Mr Elliot was noted as being 'very unkind' to his first wife, whom he married for her money (unkind is often a euphemism for 'hit'). Willoughby actually uses a carriage bought with his wife's money to visit Marianne. The most telling example is the marriage that didn't happen - that between Georgiana Darcy and Wickham. Darcy acknowledges how 'complete' Wickham's revenge would have been had Wickham married Georgiana, he would have scored the thirty thousand pounds, and there would have been very little Darcy could have done to help his sister. There is another example, also - Col. Brandon talks of the marriage of the elder Eliza, and how it was brought about by coercion, and the virtual imprisonment of the young girl by her legal guardians.

As a matter of fact, the kidnapping and forced marriage of heiresses was a favourite plot device of the romantic literature of the day.

Re contraception: Jane Austen, in one of her private letters, suggests for a married couple 'the simple regime of separate bedrooms' as a means of limiting their family. It is hard to know why some of the Austen brothers had such large families - did Edward Knight, for instance, consider that, as he had a large income, the size of his family was not an issue? I wonder whether contraception may have been thought to be 'immoral', or to have been against the religious thinking of the day?
Julie

Dear Sir,

I can tell you in one word who Willoughby cared about - Willoughby.  I defy anybody to name one character, male or female, for whom Willoughby shows sufficient feeling to induce him to put their feelings before his own wants.  There isn't one.  Consider the people in the novel with whom he has fairly long-standing relationships, and who have been kind to him:
His relative, Mrs Smith - who, after all, is leaving him an estate - he neglects his social duty to her during his visit, and actually has the appalling taste to show Marianne through the elder lady's house while the latter was still in it, and without Mrs. Smith's knowledge or consent.  I wonder if he pointed out the proposed grave site while he was at it?
The Middletons, whose behaviour to him is invariably kind, regardless of their social ineptitude - he is nothing but scathing and sarcastic about them behind their backs, while accepting their hospitality.
His wife - after marrying her, and making her money his, according to the laws of the day, he then seems to blame her for not having the good manners to sign over the fortune and then drop dead herself!
Colonel Brandon and his ward - well.

I might add that in the first two instances I have listed, Marianne Dashwood's behaviour was not much better than Willoughby's.  She is selfish, self-obsessed and silly. Her behaviour is more excusable than his, as it is motivated by hysterical adolescent romanticism, while he is motivated by self-interest, cold, pure and simple. In today's jargon, one could almost call Willoughby's behaviour sociopathic, especially as he never develops any insight into his behaviour. Had I been at the door when he rolled up in the carriage, I'd have turned the dogs on to him. The man is a waste of space.

Oh, and in answer to a much earlier question (8/20/98), I'd have slapped Marianne's silly face the first time she opened her mouth! I take Mr Bennet's view: 'she cannot become many degrees worse without authorising us to lock her up for the rest of her life'.
Julie

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