To Everyone,

Would you say that Jane Austen fits more into the eighteenth century or the nineteenth century?  Her birth and death dates are such that she could fit into either century, but I'm not sure where she goes style wise.  Some critics say that Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice are more eighteenth century styled and to some extent so is Northanger Abbey, but the rest are more nineteenth century styled.  What is your opinion?  I personally don't know enough about the general style of either century to say for sure.

Dear Laurie,

A century is a long time.  I suspect Jane Austen's novels were written in the style of Jane Austen.  To find parallels, you will probably have to go to essayists of the period rather than novelists - the structure of the novels of Jane Austen's day - the novels she herself read and enjoyed - was huge! What we call 'airport novels' - cubes - were popular at the time.  If you consider the novels of Sir Walter Scott, Mrs Radcliffe, Henry Fielding - or later 19th century works, such as those of Thackeray or Trollope, you will find them all containing huge tracts of what we today would call padding.  The novel-reading public liked them in three volumes, and liked them to last.  In the case of the latter two novelists mentioned, they were also writing by installment for magazines, which accounts for the 'episodic' or cliffhanger structure of the works, I suppose.

Have a look at some of the metaphysical poets, also, to see a style reminiscent of that of Jane Austen - then make a note of some of the essayists she is known to have enjoyed, and read them.

The fact is, her work is unique.
Julie

Dear Laurie,

Ms. Grassi is never wrong about anything and, at times, our friend is oh so right - as in the first two sentences of her post. I am going to try a little harmony with that posting and then add some counterpoint. First of all, the usual admonition: (I know you know this but it has to be said) there are no credentialed experts here, only a lot of folks who like to think about Jane Austen. That means that, while you might use some of the things we say as a basis for your own thinking, you should not imagine us to be authorities.

A century is too long a time, too long for your purposes. I suppose a better way to frame your question is "was Jane Austen's novels very much like many of her contemporaries' and antecedents' or did she break new ground with her work?". Well, yes and no. Jane Austen's plots were not so very different than those of Fanny Burney or Maria Edgeworth or of many others that she read. It is true that most novels were very long then and Jane Austen's were not. But there were others who published novels of the length of, say, Pride and Prejudice. On the other hand Tolstoy, for example, would publish long novels at a much later date.

As to style, I would vote with Ms. Grassi: "I suspect Jane Austen's novels were written in the style of Jane Austen". There was a good reason for that; Jane Austen did not associate with other writers. That was unusual even in her day. Certainly, Maria Edgeworth, Fanny Burney, Mrs. Inchbold, Mary Wollstonecraft, Mary Shelly, and Sir Walter Scott were often in the company of other authors. Jane Austen had invitations to that sort of thing but never took advantage of them. I don't know what it is like to be creative - I have never even had that ambition. But, I suppose that writers can be stimulated by each other so these coteries have their place. But, I also suspect that a kind of taint can be acquired in this way and several members of such a coterie may begin to assimilate the ideas and conventions of others. And so, "schools of thought" can develop in literary circles ("coteries"). In this way, it may be that a unique vision or style could become blurred. I think that Jane Austen, either knowingly or not, avoided this kind of corruption and, so, has remained a truly unique literary voice.

Cheryl: Hazel Motes ? Sorry but I could never pull that off. For one thing I would guess that all that barbwire wrapped around my chest might set off the metal detector at the airport. Maybe I need to rethink my persona, perhaps moving up the southern scale away from the O’Connor-McCullars’ crazies towards Tennessee Williams’ Big Daddy. I’ve always wanted to wear a white suit.

I note with some interest your "blue haired ladies of leisure" of yesterday because I wanted to play off that blue haired qualifier to say that the women I have met on the past two Elderhostel trips had nary a blue hair between them. Probably because the two trips were both entirely (with one exception-that exception being me) populated with some kind of super old people (most over seventy) who seemed to be able to bicycle or walk all day in howling gales then party all night.

That level of activity is one reason why I am going on the Jane Austen trip this year. Surely there will be at least one blue haired lady of leisure-- at least I hope so. I’ve had it with super women. Talk about performance anxiety--- nothing gives it to me any worse than watching a seventy five year old woman jump on a bicycle and leave me in the dust.

Ash: As to my itinerary, I leave on 7/13, fly to Gatwick, then I’m on my own for four days during which time I am going by train to Alton, then walk down to Chawton to see the ladies in tweed, thence up to Steventon, on to Winchester and finally on to Exeter where the seminar will be held. During the seminar we will spend one day at Bath and a half-day at Lyme. Nights will be spent in various Jane Austen type activities such as eating food of the period and, I suspect, playing whist. I hope to be able to find a cybercafe so I can stay in touch and get advice from you guys as to how to respond to what could be a whole group of people who are totally on the wrong track as regards Jane Austen . I will handle the tweedy teacher myself.

Dear Julie,

I thank you for both your admonition and your kind words.  I feel like Catherine Morland when confronted by Japanwork.   I apologize for the extreme length of this post, but I'm finding it difficult to figure out how to work it as installments.  I trust our editor-in-chief will cut out anything too redundant or purple.

Throughout Elizabeth's visit to Rosings Park, Mr. Darcy's increasing attachment is clear to the reader, but what of Lizzie's heart? Usually, Elizabeth's love for Mr. Darcy is dated from the end of her visit to the Parsonage at Hunsford, after Darcy's proposal and starting from her receipt of his letter. Can the start of her affections be so precisely timed? Is her opinion really "...quite so easily changed... ." by one letter?

Their first meeting at Hunsford is not auspicious.  Mr. Darcy only speaks to Elizabeth because he feels it would be rude not to, while Elizabeth's response is calculated to embarrass Darcy. Still, Darcy makes a point of being polite to Mrs. Collins who is spoken of in the passage as "her [Elizabeth's] friend..."  Later in the novel, Elizabeth will become exquisitely aware of the compliment of such attentions to her aunt and uncle Gardiner, but for now it's Darcy who must be grateful for Elizabeth's attentions to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Darcy must be aware that except for Bingley, his choice of friends can do him little credit in Elizabeth's eyes, but she chooses to judge Fitzwilliam on his own merits rather than dismiss him as another one of Darcy's proud, patronizing friends..

The next meeting at Rosings makes Mr. Darcy's admiration clear to the reader, but (apparently) not Elizabeth.  And it is here, not at Pemberley months later,  that Mr. Darcy's change of manners begins.

When Mr. Darcy  withdraws from conversation with Lady Catherine to join Lizzie and Colonel Fitzwilliam at the piano, it is a repeat of  his withdrawal earlier from his silly exchanges with Caroline Bingley.  It is done with impeccable politeness, but both Caroline Bingley and Lady Catherine recognize the slight  and it is clear that Darcy's formal respect for women based on sex, age, societal and family status, is secondary to his respect for women as individuals equal in intellect and character.

"You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me?  But I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well.  There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others.  My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me."

What words could have set Lizzie off to better advantage in Mr. Darcy's eyes - have given him more encouragement than these?  The timely reminder of the insipid Miss Bingley the (what must appear to him) hint of shared refusal to be intimidated by Lady Catherine's displeasure.  The tacit acknowledgement that he would understand her meaning and share the joke alerts the reader to the fact that Elizabeth has recognized and acknowledged Darcy as an equal.  Equal in powers of observation and discernment.  He is not yet her equal in spontaneous wit, but he does unbend a little and respond in the same tone:

"I shall not say that you are mistaken....I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know, that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own."

"Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me, and teach you not to believe a word I say.  I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so well able to expose my real character, in a part of the world, where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit."  Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire -- and, give me leave to say, very impolitic too -- for it is provoking me to retaliate, and to say such things may come out, as will shock your relations to hear."

The double meaning of this exchange cannot escape us. Elizabeth pretends (to both the reader and herself) to believe that what Mr. Darcy knows to her disadvantage is a result of his folly and pride, and therefore laughable,  rather than a result of her family's impropriety, which she is not yet ready to admit.  Still, Elizabeth must know she is putting her good name into Mr. Darcy's hands. Were he truly to  "mention all that [he] knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire..." were he to make his observations and personal feelings of Elizabeth's family known to Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lady Catherine, her welcome and enjoyment at Rosings would be considerably less.

No less trusting, Mr. Darcy responds

"I am not afraid of you."

For her part, Lizzie acts with equal generosity and discretion.  She could have reported on Mr. Darcy's refusal to accept her introduction when she "first saw him," at Merryton, but she does not. She doesn't even indulge in a sly allusion to "ladies slighted by other men." She merely says that

"He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce  and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner."

This extracts the admission from Darcy that "I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction, but I am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers."  In front of Colonel Fitzwilliam, Darcy doesn't dare be more explicit, but it's clear that this is an apology for his conduct at their first meeting.

An admission of sorts is extracted from Lizzie as well  she's forced, though unwillingly, to acknowledge his good qualities to herself and others.

"Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?" Elizabeth asks Fitzwilliam.  "Shall we ask why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers?"

' "I certainly have not the talent which some people possess," said Darcy, "of conversing easily with those I have never seen before.  I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done." '

"My fingers," [Elizabeth replies] "do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women's do.  They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression.  But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault -- because I would not take the trouble of practising.  It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman's of superior execution."

"You are perfectly right. You have employed your time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you, can think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers."

Here are another set of admissions, of a sort.  Darcy, having admitted a fault of action earlier, admits a fault of character now.  It is, however, reminiscent of the "indirect boast" Darcy accuses Bingley of in Chapter 10. Darcy is really proud of his "defect" -- that he is unwilling to waste his time on trivial matters -- and believes that it is a defect  shared by Elizabeth. They both, he is really saying, have employed their time much better.

At their last meeting in Longbourn,  at Netherfield the previous fall,  Elizabeth had said,

"We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb." If Elizabeth so many months before recognized their shared conceit,  Darcy now makes that conceit a virtue by its exclusiveness.

The very next day when Mr. Darcy visits Elizabeth he makes the observation that:

"Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife."

"Yes, indeed his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had.  My friend has and excellent understanding -- though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did.  She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her."

It is inconceivable that Elizabeth should have said such a thing to Mr. Darcy did she not consider him an intimate, rather than  a mere acquaintance.  Again Elizabeth is treating Mr. Darcy as an equal. She assumes not only  that he sees how unequal the match is, but will agree with her that Charlotte is the superior in intellect and good sense.  It also demonstrates that Lizzie doesn't truly believe that Darcy's pride precludes fair and sensible judgement.  Her poor opinion of Lady Catherine's judgment is too implicit in her comment.  What could have been her motive to make such a comment to Darcy?

You'll be thankful to hear that's as far as I've gotten. It seems clear to me that Elizabeth already respects Darcy's intellect and values him as a confidant. She feels free to share with him the sort on in-jokes she usually saves for Jane or Mr. Bennet. It also seems clear to me, that Mr. Darcy is all politeness at Rosings, except for his anger at Elizabeth's refusal. And who can blame him there?  Elizabeth has led him on, encouraging his attentions the whole time. I would go so far as to say that Darcy's supreme act of good manners comes when he refuses to blame Elizabeth for leading him on an accusation which would certainly be justified, if not entirely fair.

Dear Cheryl,

My view has always been that the sexual tension between Elizabeth and Darcy dated from the time of Jane's illness, and Elizabeth's stay at Netherfield.  What developed afterwards, I feel, is best described by a sentence of Captain Wentworth's in Persuasion:  'She fancied herself indifferent, when she was only angry.'  I have said elsewhere that the action between the two reminds me of nothing so much as the best of the romantic comedy films of Spencer Tracey and Katherine Hepburn.  The thing is, as I see it, that, had the pair become engaged at the period of the Rosings visit, it would have been as a result of this sexual attraction only, and not, as eventually happens, because of the deeper knowledge of themselves, and respect for each other, that they both gain afterwards.  Elizabeth was never, ever indifferent to Darcy - when she is indifferent, the bloke virtually doesn't exist for her.  I feel she 'only quite likes' Colonel Fitzwilliam, as she 'quite likes' Bingley - the men who attract her, such as Wickham, Darcy and her father (I don't mean sexually), are more complicated creatures. Wickham is more complicated than anyone would care for in the end, of course, but there are similarities between Darcy and Mr Bennet.  Both, initially, are socially lazy, and as a consequence capable of appearing ill-mannered in the case of Darcy, and eccentric in the case of Mr Bennet.  Underneath, both are intelligent men.  Both make marriages that are a little 'beneath' them in financial terms, on the strength of sexual attraction - though in Darcy's case, he made a better choice.  That's an interesting point, actually:  Mr Bennet's marriage to Miss Gardiner is parallel to Bingley's marriage to Jane, in material terms - I wonder whether there was a similar outcry from Mr Bennet's relations at the time?

But back to the point: I have always felt that Elizabeth was mad about Darcy from day one - she just didn't know that she was! Darcy knew, Charlotte knew, Miss Bingley knew - Elizabeth was the only one floating along in blissful ignorance.
Julie

Dear Cheryl,

Your posting is excellent and comes at the right time for me; I have just finished Hardy's Woodlanders and Flaubert's Madame Bovary and so I needed some cheering up. I wish Hardy would stop killing off his characters at the end; Jane Austen always married off her characters at the end and that seems kinder to me - maybe not.

I think Pride and Prejudice is the perfect novel, it is sexy to me, and I have always called it a great love story. Your posting makes me think you agree. I must say that you have seen many shadings that I missed. More importantly, I think you are dead-on correct. Thank you. You also seem to share my opinion that there is a great deal of subtlety in a Jane Austen novel - they aren't as simple as they appear. I also have made long postings on Darcy and Elizabeth. In one, I try to prove that Darcy is quite a bit like Jane Austen herself. In another, I note the resemblance of Darcy to a man with whom Jane Austen may have been in love. Finally, I made a posting trying to draw out the growing love of Elizabeth for Darcy and why he deserved it. Nowhere, did I cover the same ground as yourself, but I think the spirit of my postings is in harmony with you own.

On only one important point do we disagree: I think that Darcy has a far quicker wit than Elizabeth. I suppose that is consistent with my idea that it is Darcy, and not Elizabeth, that more closely resembled Jane Austen.

Julie: I don't disagree with what you're saying about sexual tension, but I don't quite agree either.  I think it's a very 20th century interpretation.  I agree that the tension existed, I just don't think JA intended it to enter to consciousness of the reader.

You're right of course -- both the Bennet girls married their father.  What they saw in their father at any rate.  Jane sees a kind, easy going man with little or no ambition.  Elizabeth sees a well-educated, well read man with a great deal of nasty wit.

In truth, I think the visit to Rosings (as a plot device) is more important from the standpoint of bringing Darcy to the realization that Lady Catherine, the matriarch of his family, is every bit as vulgar, nonsensical, and mercenary in the pursuit of a husband for her daughter as Mrs. Bennet.  Without Lady Catherine right in front of him, I doubt he would have made that first proposal.

Ashton: give me a few days to read the postings you're referring to.  We're finally having some decent weather here and the gardening is way behind.  Yes, I think there's a great deal of subtlety in all of JA's works.  (Pun intended.) I think the craft of her writing is sorely underrated.  Even the often dismissed "Northanger Abbey" is marvel of technique.

I don't think we have enough evidence for a debate as to whether Darcy or Elizabeth is the greater wit.  Probably because Darcy, unlike Elizabeth, has learned that one must not always say what one thinks, no matter how many laughs you get from it.  There's no question that Darcy deserves elizabeth.  There's no question that Elizabeth had no right to be offended by Darcy's first proposal.  She's set herself up as a person who values candor above everything.  Does Darcy say anything about the Bennet family that Elizabeth hasn't said about someone else?   Darcy says that Elizabeth taught him some "hard lessons."  I think Elizabeth learned the harder, and more important lessons from Darcy.
Cheryl 

Dear Cheryl,

Yes, 'sexual tension' is a poor term, but it is the only one I can think of to describe the kind of attraction that Jane Austen recognised and described so well in her novels.  It exists palpably between Mr Knightley and Emma Woodhouse, between Elizabeth and both Darcy and Wickham, DEFINITELY between Edmund Bertram and Mary Crawford; of Maria and Henry Crawford, perhaps the less said the better.  Jane Austen's delineation of relationships is, without exception, the best I know.  To use our terminology is anachronistic, but probably a quicker way of getting a point across.

Jane Austen was aware, too, of the likely consequences of choosing a partner for life while thinking 'with one's balls instead of one's head', as we say in the colonies - for instance, in the marriages of Mr and Mrs Bennet, Lydia and George Wickham (except the balls in this case belonged to Lydia - Wickham was thinking with his wallet), William Elliot and his first wife (ditto) - etc, etc.

There is just no end to the nuances of these novels - they can be examined from so many different perspectives!  Each novel can be seen, in its entirety, from the point of view of each of its main characters, and become quite different in the process.

She was marvellous, wasn't she!
Julie

Dear Ashton,

May I worship you from afar? Your opinion of the Bronte's pretty much hits the nail on the proverbial head.  Charlotte's talent as a writer is more in the same league with today's dime a word writers of Sillouette Romances, than a genius like Jane Austen.  Her comments on Jane seem like a desperate attempt to say something -- anything --nasty about a rival.  And pathetic because, after all, the rival is dead.  I can't find any hint that the writers of Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights ever experienced love themselves. And with apologies to Julie, Jane Eyre especially strikes me as a the vaguely onanistic fantasy of a 12 year old girl.  I could probably degree with a study of the Freudian significance of exclamation points in the novel.

From the Meister: Yes, you may.

Dear Cheryl,

I don't disagree with anything you say, especially the bit about the exclamation marks.  I have never ever meant to imply that I think the works of the Brontes, any of them, are in the same league as those of Jane Austen - I read the Bronte works with great enthusiasm and enjoyment when I was much younger, but feel no interest in returning to them now, which is not the case with Jane Austen, which I pretty well know by heart.  But, in fairness, I think it must be said that, for their time the Bronte novels, especially those of Charlotte and Emily, were remarkable.  I have also read most of the novels of Mrs Gaskell, their contemporary, and in comparison the Brontes created female characters, especially, of far greater power.  I quite take your point about the childishness of some of the characterisation, and some of the writing - 'applied her optic', for instance, instead of 'looked' - well.  Perhaps their enduring interest for me is in their lives rather than in their works, and, for all their conventionality (outwardly), they were remarkable in many ways.  They travelled abroad alone, for instance, which was far from common at the time, and Charlotte had some interesting, unusual women in her circle of friends - Harriet Martineau, for instance, though Charlotte was terminally offended at Miss Martineau's comment on Jane Eyre -'I do not like the love, neither the kind nor the amount.' That did it, and Charlotte decided that 'she and I had better not try and be friends.'  Mary Taylor was another friend, who travelled to New Zealand (as well as to Europe), and ran her own business in Wellington for many years.  This is all prattling on, I know, so I'll stop now, but, remember, the Brontes are not the only famous authors who have not weathered well - try reading Sir Walter Scott!

As for Charlotte's criticism of Jane Austen - it is not my opinion, of course, but it was an honest one, frankly expressed, and expressed, more importantly, in a private letter, that its author never intended but private reading by its recipient.  She expressed it to her publisher, after he recommended that she read Jane Austen, as a model of how to 'tone down' or discipline her own work.  If the letter is read in its entirety, it will be seen to express opinions not unlike those that Jane Austen wrote to the Rev. Mr Clark, when she told him that she must go her own way, even if that way be inferior to that suggested by others (Jane Austen was right, of course - Charlotte - well, she was probably right, too).
Julie

Dear Ray,

OK, OK, you did it and said a lot of positive things about Mr. B. and that means that my own position might be exaggerated - ummm, maybe we should drop the subject. (You were totally lucky on that one.) Except that all the things you say about Mr. B. apply equally well to Mrs. B. except she loved her daughters with fewer reservations and she made no pretense of reading.

When do you leave for England, big guy? Don't you think we should all make up an imaginary itinerary for you? Good, I'm glad you agree. Everyone wants me to start. Go to Winchester, of course; go alone so that you don't embarrass yourself. Get a lot of pictures of yourself next to English women with Jane-Austen sites in the background. The photos must be translatable to computer files in either the JPEG (.jpg) or GIFF (.gif) format. The JPEG is to be preferred. We can then easily post them. Visit pubs, attend Last Night at the Proms (except, when they stand to sing "Britannia Rules the Waves" you sneakily sing "Columbia Rules the Waves"), and take in The Edinburgh Tattoos. Yes, that should be a good start.

Dear Ray,

I don't think you need to worry too much about defending Mr. Bennet. You're average blue-haired lady of leisure would probably consider him quite the catch, if his wife was out of the way.

I'm trying to imagine you in full Southern Gothic regalia.  A brown suit, a black preacher's hat ala' Haze Motes, while you hide in the bushes at Hyde Park chanting "Muuvvv-see-vum" over and over.

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