To Anybody,

Would it be possible for some one to email me regarding Jane Austen, I have several questions that would be too long to post here, but I am looking to discuss in detail a large piece of her body of work and interpreting it for a thesis I will be writing this coming year of 2000.

Any advice would be splendid.  Contact me at TwoByYale@aol.com and I will be sure to speak with you.
Eternally Grateful.

Dear TwoByYale,

Welcome to the community - both of you.

If you will look at the other postings, you will be led to a number of persons who freely give their e-mail addresses. You will likely find someone with common interests, and you can begin the conversation yourself.

I hope you will not do that, I hope you will communicate directly through the bulletin board. That way you will obtain a diversity of opinion and knowledge. I promise you that there are many here with a familiarity with Jane Austen's biography and correspondence as well as her novels. If your questions are too big for a single posting, break them down into manageable chunks.

Please refer to the table of contents and the index/archive to better understand what might be available for you at this site.

Reference: This is John's reply to a request and a complaint made by the Meister (no longer on the board). The gist was the Meister's complaint that simple arithmetic and logic dictates that the millenium will occur next year and not this; and, the observation that the calendar date is not calculated in the same way as a person's age.

Dear Ashton,

You win the cookie.

Howevah. We are not different. At the moment of birth, we enjoy the ordinal first year. After completing that entire first year, we begin the second year: we say 13 months after we are born that we are one year old and one month.

If we had been born Jan. 1, 1 A.D., today (December 18, 1999) we are 1,998 years old and 11 1/2 months old. In another two weeks (Jan 1, 2000 A.D.), we shall be 1,999 years old.

Therefore, one year after Jan 1, 2000, we shall have the dubious distinction of having our 2,000th birthday (on Jan 1, 2001).

Therefore the celebrations in two weeks will be the rehearsals for the real thing one year later Dec 31, 2000/Jan 1, 2001.

Dear Ashton and John,

The only thing the first of January will be is tomorrow, on December 31.  The whole thing is an artificial construct imposed upon those societies whose culture includes Christianity.  And by the way, if one happens to be born Chinese, then one is considered to be a year old at birth.

The goats will have to be milked, the beds will have to be made, and life will continue, for those of us who don't happen to cark it on January 1.  So what?
Julie

Dear Julie & Anielka,

Thank you for bringing along the Chinese custom to the discussion. I had left it out because it should have created confusion in my explanation, as sure as shootin'.

Still and all, may I advance a piece of anthropology that I am sure was on your mind. When the Chinese say that a child is 7, they do not mean that he/she has lived a full seven years. We do. What the Chinese mean is that the child has completed six years air breathing directly into the lungs and therefore is somewhere in the seventh year.

The Meister did say something like whether the designated millennium begins at one agreed time or another agreed time does not amount to a quantity of goat droppings. Something like that.

I agreed. What I added was the truth universally acknowledged that, we do count years of orbits for man and millennia in the same way, but for some illogical reason, some people count the last year in a thousand before it happens. Talk about counting your chickens.

Julie has placed a philosophical question on the table: "So what?" But it matters in the same way that it matters whether Henry bedded Betsy, Maria, or the Admiral's mistress. Both situations are fiction. But if we wish our discussions to be accurate, then we must be clear about facts, even in fictions.

This insistence on accuracy in our facts brings, inexorably, into question how we can say absolutely that Jane Austen knew the poetry of the cavalier poet, Sir John Suckling. I think that I had read it, but the source or the cite has not popped into mind. Perhaps Heather, Julie, or Ray can advise. (It can be argued that there is internal evidence that at least two of Suckling's poems provided the inspiration for Fanny Price. If so, then Suckling's life was not in vain. But one would like harder evidence.)

Dear Dave, John, Ash, Cheryl, Heather, Julie et. al.,

(1) Very interested in the Suckling connections. Is it just a humungous coincidence or did you see my posting about Nelson's mother (who was a Suckling). Was Sir John related in any way to Nelson's mother? How do we know that Our Lady knew his poetry? (I am not challenging you, I am just asking the question because I am genuinely interested and would like to pursue it).

(2) Can't find the original (which I assume was from Ashton) which wonders why Mary is denied Edmund and Henry is denied Fanny. Isn't it obvious? Fanny and Edmund are goodies and Henry and Mary are baddies. "But what about Lydia and Wickham?" I hear you cry. Well, Lydia is silly but not really a baddy. Actually, I think we contemporary readers with our rather more open-minded reading of MP characters lack the instinctive judgement of the eighteenth century that would have allowed us to instantly see Mary and Henry as thoroughly corrupt. Mary's joke "rears and vices" would have set enormous alarm bells going for your average eighteenth century reader. Pressing gifts on other people, expressing a desire to make someone love you as an act of vanity and having sex with other people's wives were completely out of order in the early 1800s (and seem to be de rigeur these days).

(3) I was very interested in your idea, Ash, that men are more motivated by their sense of honour than their chromosomes. On exactly which planet is this true? If it turns out to be a planet in this galaxy I will start saving my pennies for interstellar travel right now. I think, dearest Ash, you may discover you and fellow Male Voices are the noble exceptions rather than the rule.

(4) Which takes me from the ridiculous to the Sublime. I have been reading about Natural Law recently - an understanding of which is apparently essential to understanding eighteenth century literature. (Basil Willey, 1938 Cambridge University "Backgound to The Eighteenth Century"). To sum up an august body of thought in one inadequate sentence, Natural Law was an attempt to reconcile the scientific discoveries of the day with religious thinking. Basil Willey starts his book by quoting Dryden's belief that the search for Natural Law was the ..."Noble Eluctation of truth, wherein, against the tenacity of Predjudice and Prescription, this Century now prevaileth".

Prejudice and Prescription had a nice familiar ring to it so when I turned the page and discovered that "First Impressions" (original title of Pride and Prejudice) was one of the common names for Natural Law I was most interested indeed. Especially since the opening phrase of Pride and Prejudice "It is a truth universally acknowledged......" etc. etc. is exactly how new scientific proofs of the seventeenth and eighteenth century were phrased. This desire to show that all human activity followed nature's laws as discovered by scientists such as Copernicus, Gallileo, Kepler and Newton is even more interesting if you believe (as I do) that Darcy is modelled on Pitt the Younger. Newton was one of Pitt's favourite reads.

Can anyone tell me how the Sublime fits in with Natural Law?

(5) Heather - you are right about Clarissa. I have managed to get to page three and would give up but I am fascinated to know why anyone would fall for a bloke who stabbed your own brother (Lovelace). Apparently staunching the bleeding of someone you just tried to kill is an attractive quality. I will suspend my disbelief and persist.

(6) Ashton - Bertram and Lear? Only if the plot is reversed and Lear goes from mad to sane. An interesting analogy for the purpose of literary comparison but the simlarity ends there. Although Maria is not worth much more than the dust which the rude wind doth blow in her face. Fancy copping-off (English slang) with the bloke your younger sister fancies.

(Meister - sorry this is so disjointed but I am having enormous problems in understanding/loading the threads posted on this wonderful message board - I can't work out what order they come up in and my browser helpfully terminates the page mid-load every time I attempt to look at a new message.)

Dear Anielka,

I posted my note regarding Sir John Suckling in respose to your mention of the name. I know nothing about the man except what I've read in the encyclopaedia, so I don't know who any of relations are. The name just stuck with me because of the name of the "inventor" of cribbage.

It's time for me to peg out.

Dear Sir,

To a degree, the fact that Jane Austen chose the theme of love and marriage (not necessarily together) for the theme of each of her novels does highlight Laurie's point of view; namely, that marriage before, during and after Jane Austen's time was, among other things, a means of consolidating or acquiring wealth.  By taking and defending the view that marriage without love was morally wrong, Jane Austen was being somewhat controversial, and this is illustrated time and again in small 'asides' in her novels:  Miss Maria Ward was allowed by 'her uncle, the lawyer, to be at least three thousand pounds short of any equitable claim to (the match)'   the very normal and sensible Morland family acknowledge that Catherine's marriage to Henry Tilney was 'under every pecuniary view, .......beyond the claims of their daughter.'  Emma Woodhouse is not backward in coming forward when she considers the impudence of Mr Elton, who had 'first entered the neighbourhood not two years ago, to make his way as he could, without any alliances but in trade.....'and then has the temerity to address Miss Woodhouse, of Hartfield, the heiress of thirty thousand pounds, and the member of a family that was 'scarcely secondary to Donwell Abbey itself..'

Even Mrs Weston, penniless enough, God knows, can comment of Frank Churchill's engagement to Jane Fairfax, 'it is not a match to gratify, but if they do not mind it, why should we?'  Turning to Persuasion, Captain Wentworth's final summing-up states that, 'with five-and-twenty thousand pounds,......(he)was no longer nobody.  He was now esteemed quite worthy to address the daughter of a foolish, spendthrift baronet, who had not had principle or sense enough to maintain himself in the situation in which Providence had placed him, and who could give his daughter ....but a small part of the share of ten thousand pounds which must be hers hereafter.' (An interesting figure, incidentally, as it is used disparagingly in the case of Miss Hawkins - 'in possession of so many thousands of pounds as must always be called ten.'  Upon marriage in Jane Austen's England, a woman ceased to own anything - not even her own knickers, if push came to shove.  If, say, Mrs Elton's grandfather died and left her three thousand pounds, that money was her husband's, solely and absolutely, unless it was tied up by settlement upon Mrs Elton's children. This remained the case until the Married Women's Property Act was passed in 1870 - something, which act was preceded by some notorious cases, including one in which a married woman, separated from her husband, was compelled by the courts to hand over every penny she earned to that husband she was thus rendered unable to support her children.

There are no rights or wrongs to this argument - indeed, it is not an argument at all, but rather a consideration of circumstances.  People had to have enough money upon which to live Jane Austen's father was in fact in debt for much of his life to relatives, and his daughters did not have fortunes.  In order to maintain their place in society, people were obliged to live in a certain way:  Jane Austen offers us options to consider when she draws the Musgrove family, for instance: two sisters, possessing equal fortunes, whose children occupied very different places in society because of their mothers' marriages:  Charles Musgrove himself, while being quite relaxed about the prospect of his sister's marriage to his cousin Hayter, himself acknowledges that were any sibling but Charles Hayter under consideration, then 'indeed, it could not be.'  Similar pictures are drawn amongst members of the Gardiner family, and the Wards.

But thank you, no, I do not believe I would care for the life of a mistress (Parson Woodforde and Admiral Crawford's examples notwithstanding):  even the meagre rights of a wife are denied the mistress, and we all grow old eventually.
Julie

Dear Ashton,

In Fanny's "dilemma" (12-14-99) you've hit upon that which I despise most in Fanny as a woman. I don't consider Fanny's choice to leave Sir Thomas in ignorance of the danger to his daughters as "noble."  I see it as yet another instance of the emotional investment Fanny has made in the role of "victim" -- as well as  her selfishness.  Does Fanny ever look on her cousins and say "There but for the Grace of God go I?"  Does Fanny ever think of what her life would be in Portsmouth had her uncle not taken her in? Does she really understand Lady Betram's gift of £10 ($1500)? She speaks of how grateful she is, but as the old proverb tells us that actions speak louder than words.  The truth is that Fanny would rather be romantically "unreasonable" than do her duty to her family.  Her sense of entitlement is beyond belief.

Fanny loves to play the stereotypical misunderstood teenager. Early on, she masters the skill of manipulating Edmund, and by the end of the novel, she's calling the shots for his parents as well. She will never, ever take action so long as there's a question who will win the game. (This makes her a perfect match for Edmund, who appears incapable of action at all.)  And she will never, ever take any responsibility for anything in her life.

There's little to admire in Fanny's reticence at "exposing" Sir Thomas' daughters to him.  If you look closely, you'll notice that Fanny never uses her inside knowledge of Henry or Mary's character to benefit any of her family.    That doesn't stop her from using it to her own advantage.  After all, in Fanny's mind, Edmund's split from Mary Crawford isn't absolutely certain until Fanny reveals Mary's comments about the advantages of Tom's possible death.

Christian alligator sums it up pretty well, doesn't it?  (Crocodile?  Weasel?)

P.S. I'm done with the cookies and have moved on to fudge and  chocolate truffles.  Coming next week:  truffle mousse pie with wild raspberry sauce.
Cheryl

Dear Cheryl,

I never thought it would ever come to this. I never expected that you, or anyone else living in the northern hemisphere, would take the low road in a debate. Do you really think that the threat of truffles such as fudge and raspberry sauce will carry the day for you? - Would make me abandon my principles - all reason and honor, merely to receive your leavings? I hardly think so.

However, in spite of the fact that you choose to ignore Fanny's clear efforts to alert Edmund to what the Crawfords were about; in spite of the fact that you will not recognize the precarious position that Fanny held in the Mansfield family; and, in spite of the fact you discount the important fact that Fanny lacked confidence and self-esteem - indeed, in spite of all these deficiencies, I have decided to adopt your point of view. Fanny Price is a bitch - yes, that is the way I see things at the moment. Fanny Price is a bitch.

Um-mm, do you have my address?

Dear Cheryl,

Forget Jane Austen! Give us the recipe. You had me at the word "chocolate" but "wild" and "mousse" helped.

PS. I adore Fanny Price. I model myself on her. Except I am naturally rude and cannot hold my tongue. One of the best lines Our Lady ever wrote is " 'Ah Mother! how do you do?'.... 'Where did you get that quiz of a hat? It makes you look like an old witch.' " and I long for the opportunity to work this into conversation with my own dear Mater. So apart from the fact we are diametrically opposed in character Fanny and I could be twins separated at birth.

Did you know that Jane Austen had a great neice called Fanny Rice? Not many people do. Including Jane Austen, as Fanny R. was born three years after her great-aunt's death.

Dear Ashton (and Aneilka),

I do not ignore Fanny's conversation with Edmund, but I still question why she didn't say anything to her Uncle (who wasn't being ruled by his gonads.)  As for Fanny's precarious position,  yes, I can certainly see it now.
"Aunt Bertram," said Fanny, quaking with fear and nearly fainting at her own boldness in failing to address her Aunt in the third person, "I fear I have a headache and pray that I might be excused from sitting in the drawing room after dinner, that I might go to bed."
Lady Bertram's countenance grew cold and hard, "Fanny, you must know that your revered Uncle left specific instructions that should you ever complain of a headache while he was away, you were to be sold into prostitution  at gin house in London."
During her sister's speech, Mrs. Norris could barely contain herself, and she hardly let the last words escape Lady Betram's lips before speaking up, "My dear sister, you are quite mistaken. That is the punishment for a sore throat. For a head ache, she is to be tied in a burlap sack along with a monkey and a snake, then thrown into the duck pond to drown."

As for Fanny's lack of confidence and self-esteem, I won't say that it's a conscious deception on Fanny's part, more of an affectation, adopted for selfish purposes.  She's like the co-worker who never has to meet any of the job expectations because she always cries whenever criticized or can't be expected to pay attention to details because her sister's stepdad's sister is in the hospital.  I know you know the sort of people I'm talking about.

P.S.
1&1/2 Cups dark chocolate truffles at room temp.
1 Cup  unsweetened double cream (35-40% butterfat) whipped to stiff peaks
1 egg white whipped to stiff peaks
1 pie shell of your choice crushed chocolate wafers are good.

Fold truffles into beaten egg, lifting high to keep light.  Ditto with whipped cream. Refrigerate for 1 hour.  Spread bottom of pie crust with a thin layer of seedless raspberry jam (preferably home made.)  Fill with truffle mixture.  Decorate with unsweetened whipped cream roses, shaved chocolate and fresh wild raspberries.  Plate with warmed raspberry jam drizzled lightly over the top.

Dear Cheryl,

Fanny is hardly a shirker. She complains to no one - not even Edmund - and certainly is conscientious and devoted in all of her duties to both of her aunts. The picture that you present of Fanny Price is not only not supported by the text, it is explicitly and repeatedly contradicted there. Both of her aunts treat her as a robust body-servant, and Fanny does nothing to prevent or deflect that treatment. It is only through Edmund's, and eventually Sir Thomas's, intervention that she is given any relief or respect whatsoever.

In your reply, you make no reference to the text. - Why is that? However, ironically, your imagined conversations are closer to the truth than you might care to admit. Here are a series of quotes from Jane Austen's novel.

" 'there will be some difficulty in our way, Mrs. Norris,' observed Sir Thomas, '... without depressing her spirits too far, to make [Fanny] remember that she is not a Miss Bertram. ...' "

"...[Fanny's] feelings were very acute, and too little understood to be properly attended to. ..."

"...Of the rest [Fanny] saw nothing; nobody seemed to think of her ever going amongst them again, even for a visit, nobody at [Portsmouth] seemed to want her. ..."

This is a conversation between Fanny and her Aunt Bertram when it appeared that Fanny was to be sent away to live with Aunt Norris.

" 'I hope I am not ungrateful aunt,' said Fanny modestly.

'No my dear; I hope not. I have always found you a very good girl.'

'And am I never to live here again?'

'Never, my dear; but you are sure of a comfortable home. It can make very little difference to you, whether you are in one house or the other.' "

Here are more quotes.

"Fanny had no share in the festivities of the season; but she enjoyed being avowedly useful as her aunt's companion. ..."

" 'No,' replied Edmund, 'I do not think [Fanny] has ever been to a ball. My mother seldom goes into company herself, and dines no where but with Mrs. Grant, and Fanny stays at home with her.'

'Oh! then the point is clear. Miss Price is not out.'..."

" '...I dare say Mr. Crawford would take my two nieces in his barouche, and Edmund can go on horseback, you know, sister, and Fanny will stay at home with you.'

Lady Bertram made no objection, and every one concerned in the going, was forward in expressing their ready concurrence, excepting Edmund, who heard it all and said nothing."

"...the ride to Mansfield common took place the next morning;--the party included all the young people but [Fanny], and was much enjoyed at the time, and doubly enjoyed again in the evening discussion. ..."

"Vexed as Edmund was with his mother and aunt, he was still more angry with himself. His own forgetfulness of [Fanny] was worse than any thing they had done. Nothing of this would have happened had she been properly considered; but she had been left four days together without any choice of companions or exercise, and without any excuse for avoiding whatever her unreasonable aunts might require. ..."

"... [Fanny] was not often invited to join in the conversation of others, nor did she desire it. Her own thoughts and reflections were habitually her best companions; ..."

"... it was while all the other young people were dancing, and [Fanny] was sitting, most unwillingly, among the chaperones at the fire, longing for the re-entrance of her elder cousin on whom all her own hopes for a partner then depended. It was Fanny's first ball... "

Your views are consistent with your admission that you are disappointed in the novel. That is not surprising but it is very interesting. Your view of Fanny Price is typical - you must know that - however it is absolutely baseless. There is some strain in our contemporary culture that compels many persons, like yourself, to despise Jane Austen's heroine for reasons that must be imagined because they are incongruous with the text. Perhaps we can begin to understand this phenomenon, this pandemic, if you will do one thing for us. Please tell us what you think of Jane Austen? Especially, what is your view of Jane Austen, as a person, after your reading and interpretation of Mansfield Park?

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