Dear fellow Austen lovers,
First of all I'd like to announce that I got an "A" on my English paper (irony in Pride and Prejudice) and I'd like to thank those of you who helped me (especially Ash and Julie Grassi) by posting ideas and suggestions for my paper.
That said, I'd like to make a few observations on the similarities between Mansfield Park and Pride and Prejudice. (Incidentally, I found out too late that I could have written a great paper on that topic, which I'm sure would have made those of you who don't like the topic of irony in Austen very happy.) While there are some obvious differences between the novels, there are two major similarities between them. The first one is the failure of the fathers in the novels (Sir Thomas in MP and Mr. Bennet in P+P) to take adequate responsibility for their children's moral well-being, leading to mistakes later on in the novel. Sir Thomas allowed his daughters to be flattered and spoiled by his sister-in-law, Mrs. Norris, and overcompensated for this by being too harsh with them himself. He thought that he was helping them to put Mrs. Norris' praise in perspective, when in fact he was just teaching them to love Mrs. Norris and listen more to her viewpoint than his. Mr. Bennet, on the other hand, did not even make the effort to prevent his daughters from falling victim to "folly." He retreated to his study and made no effort to care for any daughter but his protege, Elizabeth.
The other main similarity in the novels is that in each one, an elopement is a very important turning point in the novel. In P+P, the elopement of Lydia and Wickham acts as the first step to Elizabeth and Darcy's reconciliation. In MP, the first elopement, Fanny's parents, allows Fanny to eventually move to Mansfield Park, securing her future happiness, though it doesn't seem that way at the time. The second elopement, Maria Bertram and Henry Crawford, has more negative consequences. This elopement brings about the third elopement, Julia Bertram and Mr. Yates. Also, Maria's marriage is destroyed because of this elopement, and she is forced to live the rest of her life with her aunt Norris outside of society. The only positive consequence of Maria's elopement is that Edmund Bertram and Mary Crawford are broken apart, eventually leading to Fanny and Edmund's marriage.
One other observation on Austen's novels - of the four I've read so far (Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, and Northanger Abbey) the oddball seems to be Sense and Sensibility. As I've noted above, there are several similarites between MP and P+P, and though the style of NA is much different than that of the others, it seems to have similarities also. Sense and Sensibility sticks out because it is the only one that of these four with multiple heroines (in P+P Jane Bennet is firmly kept as a secondary character), and it is much darker and filled with sorrow than the others. Even though everything works out in the end, the reader is kept in suspense for much of the novel. As for my favorite Austen novel so far, Mansfield Park and Pride and Prejudice are neck and neck. I'm already looking forward to reading all of these novels again, but I want to read the other two first.
Sorry for the length of this post but I was very excited to share all of this with someone, and I thought that you guys would appreciate it. Thanks again for all of your help with my paper!
Dear Laurie,
I'm sufficiently delighted with your letter to bestow an Australian commendation, as you see. Now, please reassure me, and Ray, that you are not, in fact, running around your country in drag (do men 'drag' in America?) displaying unusual bumper stickers!
I agree with your estimation of Sir Thomas and Mr Bennet. I like them both, but both men stuffed up in the parenthood stakes, as they both acknowledge: Sir Thomas, 'conscious of his errors as a parent' suffered greatly after Maria's elopement, and Mr Bennet told Elizabeth outright, 'Let me for once in my life feel how much I have been to blame!', though he was able, minutes later, to point out his own 'greatness of mind' in not resenting Elizabeth's warning re Brighton.
Jane Austen, in fact, is not all that hot on parents. I don't believe that this stems from any particular deep, dark meaning; rather I see it as a plot device, by which her characters are enabled to develop independently. Basically, she tends to keep the older generation out of things a bit. Even her subsidiary characters tend not to be too encumbered by family - for instance, Mrs Smith, Miss Taylor, Lady Russell, etc. The effect is to enhance her lovely, uncluttered novels.
I do wish you would decide not to like Sense and Sensibility,
though - and you really must read Emma before you do anything
else.
Julie
Dear Laurie,
Congratulations! I know you get an extra grade point for an "A" in an AP course, so that must have done wonders for your GPA. The first rule - the prime directive of the Internet is that a young woman not say so much that she reveals her identity or location. But, maybe you can a little something about your educational plans and not break the rule. Have you decided on a University as yet?
Sometimes a person can take an introduction and conclusions sections of a paper and make an interesting posting. Is that possible in this case?
Let me add a suggestion to your reading list: I recommend Jane Austen's Lady Susan for your next read. This little novella was kept a secret in the family and not published until four or five decades after the great Lady's death. And that only after some argument in the family. It shows the range of which our Lady was capable and illustrates her early experiments with the epistolary style. It is very short and won't take you long to read. You will be a bit startled.
You will love Sense and Sensibility at the second reading.
Dear Folks,
Julie Grassi is guiding my reading these days and I wanted to relay at least one of those suggestions to the rest of you. I am reading the diaries of James Woodforde (1740-1803). His dates are similar to those of Jane Austen's father, George Austen (1731-1805) and, of course, both were country clergymen. The two men also differ in many respects and here is a link to a section in the references where you can read a bit more detail.
I thought to give you one diary entry in order to whet your appetite. I give the entry first and then some explanation that my fellow Americans might need. This is from Woodsforde's days at Oxford and is dated January 26th, 1762:
Reynells pd me 0.0.6. At Billiards with Reynells won 0.1.6. For one Game only 0.0.2. For Hooke and myself 0.0.4. Had a Bottle of my Wine this evening in the B.C.R., being sconced for breaking Wind, while I was making Water in the Looking Glass, in the B.C.R.; by one Reynells. At Putt with Master won 0.0.1. The Frost is gone of, so it is all over with Skating.
First of all, the money thing: The English use the notation "pounds.shillings.pence" so that, for example, "0.1.6" means one shilling and six pence ("sixpence"). (For some more details about this, see Julie's excellent posting of 5/6/98.) A "sconce", as we all know, is a "safe place", but at Oxford it also came to mean a small fine of some sort levied for bad behavior. The "B.C.R." is the "Bachelor's Common Room" at Oxford. I am still deciphering this message so I still don't know what some of the other terms mean; perhaps some sort of skating maneuvers - whatever?
Dear Mister Meister,
Thank you so much for recalling to my memory that ravishing passage from Persuasion. When the dialogue turns to male dominance and point of view in the world of writing, it gives one the chills. This is one of those privileged moments, when Miss Austen's stellar (and human) presence is palpable. It is simply transcendant. The woman was fearless.
I do agree with your premise that she lived high above the silly sex wars. Don't you think that explains her ability to please both sexes equally? Or, do I dare to say, she pleases the male reader more? The male intellect has an especial appreciation for fairness, in MY opinion. Fairness combined with brilliance is an irresistible union to the masculine mind. And what man of true intelligence has ever been able to resist a woman of actual genius? We love them. Even when, or perhaps precisely when they capture us in flagrante, figuratively speaking. We are vain creatures and enjoy a hard look at ourselves. Jane Austen gives us ourselves, without bitterness or bias. We are loveable, we are fallible, we feel, we love, we suffer. How well she understood us! Darcy, Bingley, Edmund, Tom, even Willoughby and Wickham, Mr. Collins and Sir Walter of Kellynch Hall, are in fact our brothers. We like to follow our brothers through disaster and triumph. It is one of the keys to our love of Jane.
I have probably waxed foolish here, but Jane wouldn't have minded. She was a
woman of great tolerance. Until next time.
BKB
Dear Folks,
Now that "Jane Austen and gender wars" have been edited to "Jane Austen and gender stereotypes", I am ready to weigh in with some remarks. First let me say that of all the wars I might win, including an all-out nuclear war, a gender war is one that I will always lose, and to further compound my frustration, I lose even if I grovel in the dirt and take the female side, thereby earning myself untold grief for having the audacity to even imagine that I might have the slightest insight into what the female side is, and that in fact "There is no female side, just the right side" and whatever that side is, I am not on it.
On the other hand, I can deal with stereotypes. So, here is my story: I go to a grocery store in a nearby city and I drive into the shopping center parking lot. As I am walking towards the grocery store I see a bumper sticker on a parked car. "I’d rather be reading Jane Austen" the bumper sticker says. I had never seen such a sentiment expressed on a bumper sticker, or for that matter, anywhere else. My reaction is that I am curious as to who the driver of the car might be, so I determine that I will go into the grocery store and see if I can spot the person, based entirely on my own preconceived notions as to how such a person might look.
Now suppose I put you in that parking lot and said to you, "OK I will give you some choices as to what that person will look like, and for every right choice you make I will give you one hundred dollars."
So, those are your choices. Now you can scream and yell all you want about
the fact that Jane Austen readers do not fall into any stereotypical groups and
you can lecture me as to my lack of understanding, yada, yada, yada, but go into
that store and try to win some money. In other words, who are you going to look
for? Please spare me the grief of listening to you say,
"I just don’t have
any idea what the person might look like."
"OK". I say, "I’ll raise it to one
thousand dollars per correct choice."
"Well, alright" you say, "I will give
it a try."
You go into the store and you look at everybody there and you do not see anybody that fits the stereotypical ideas you (finally) admit you have. You give up with a slight sign of relief that the white woman between 25-45 wearing sensible shoes, no hose and wearing the intelligent look of a woman who would be delighted to be discovered as a Jane Austen reader is nowhere to be found.
You rush back into the parking lot where I am waiting and you say, "Well, Mr. Smart guy, there was no stereotypical Jane Austen reader in that store, so there."
Just at that moment we see a woman walking out of the store next door to the grocery. You, being more anxious to make some money than to prove your point, cry out. "White woman, 25-45, sensible shoes, no hose, a look of intelligence, and THERE she is right there coming out of that store." Sure enough the woman walks to the bumper-sticker car and meets our inquiries with both high good humor and intelligence.
You have made big bucks but I have made my point, which is that if I put up some money you are going to revert to looking for the stereotype.
That is a true story except that no one put up any money and it was just I doing the looking. I was absolutely sure that there was no one in that store that could have been the owner of the bumper sticker car. That feeling was based entirely on my own understanding of what the typical Jane Austen reader might look like. So, sue me, but I was right. The stereotypical Jane Austen reader turned out to be exactly that.
OK, so there might be another side to all this, but I feel sure that if the money is right you would go looking just like I did.
Dear Ray,
Codswallop. And what's more, codswallop liberally laced with American stereotypes. I wonder what on earth you think I must look like? And, just for fun, what do you suppose the following individual might look like, based on the information provided, and the 'stereotype' theory?
This individual has recently started working as a nursing assistant in the small hospital where I also work. This hospital is an aged care facility, and, although there were some hesitations in giving our new nurse a go, due to age and lack of previous experience, the staff have all been most inmpressed with this person's gentleness, patience, and skill, all exhibited during handling of our frail, elderly, demented ladies and gentlemen.
Bear in mind that this is Tasmania, while formulating an
answer.
Regards,
Julie
From the Meister: I know! I know! Let me guess. The
new nurse
looks like Andie MacDowell I betcha. Well - of course - when I
am
asked to imagine someone it always turns out to be Andie MacDowell
- or
Jennifer Ehle. OK, on the chance that my first guess is wrong, I
imagine the
new nurse is a young man probably with an athletic
build to indicate his
involvement in team sports. Those guys tend
to be as you describe. Probably
good looking too I would guess,
why else would he have been hired? Hmm, who
is his supervisor?
Dear Sir,
Does Andie MacDowell look like a forty-year old American negro ex-basketball
player? If so, you got it in one, but somehow, I have my doubts.
American negro ex-basketball players are common enough in America, I imagine,
but in Tasmania they occur about as often as Australian aborigines do in
Berkeley - and they are even rarer in Tasmanian nursing homes. But yes, I
am his supervisor, and yes, he certainly does lighten up my day!
Julie
From the Meister: SEE!? There, you see? Now maybe you
will believe me
once in a while. I am so good, so damn good. (Oh Lord,
help me be a good
sport about this.) This reminds me of our discussions of
Marianne Dashwood -
or, how about that time when you wouldn't believe me when
I explained that
Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax squished when left alone
with a sleeping
grandmama? Now, do you believe me? Modesty forbids my
continuing. -
Except, do you want to wager on Berkeley?
Dear Sir,
Oh, do shut up.
Julie
Dear Sirs,
Being the stereotypical Austen reader, at least for another four years, apparently, may I just say that although I wear hose and heels to work, I would avoid them while shopping, and I would never put any form of bumper sticker on my car unless I was paid $1,000.00 to do it (US funds). However, I wore a baseball cap this weekend, and when I went to kiss my husband, learned another good reason why we should wear 'em backwards. Anyway, he'll probably survive.
Still trying to decide if I agree with the Meister on Austen and gender wars. I think so. I have always admired the heartfelt depiction of Austen's male characters in contrast to those I have found in Wollestonecraft and Shelley, whose males seem to me overly passionate in a single-minded, distracted, out-of-touch kind of way - but then, so are their females, too poetic to be real. And Richardson and Fielding fare no better when compared to Austen. The characters of the first are too didactic and those of the second too cartoonish (although I love cartoons, and irony, and he's a very good mesh).
I think Austen just writes well-rounded people. Part of her knowledge of how people think and feel comes from a consciousness of their gender, together with an understanding that gender can be an integral part of each person's make-up. She includes an occasional stereotype, too. I'm thinking of Mrs. Jenkins right now, and I think Wickham could be considered the stereotypical rake, although he should have money to be the perfect specimen. Overall, Austen makes even her stereotypes individual, and therefore human. Those characters who have stepped away from the conventional understanding of what is male and what is female, are often allowed even more humanity at most, and become generally far more interesting people at the very least. I've always considered Elizabeth Bennet a particularly masculine female, and Mr. Woodhouse a particularly feminine male (although he is more feminine than she is masculine).
I hope I may be allowed not to apply any gender to the terms masculine and feminine. They are merely storehouses for stereotypical behaviour, and we all know which behaviour goes where because we are all very well read and these notions are really the children of literature.
I always mean to polish my ideas before I send them out into the ether, but I never seem to have time, so here you go.
Dear Heather,
What is going to happen four years from now?
I have read Wollstonecraft's Mary and Maria and I think I saw great potential for a novelist, especially in the latter "novel" which was unfinished at Mary's death. The potential was never fulfilled because Mary's writing did degenerate into stereotypes of all kinds. Certainly her gender stereotypes were unadulterated; men are bastards and women are virtuous, gifted victims. Her efforts could never have been popular with most men. Mary Wollstonecraft was no Jane Austen. Another, more amusing stereotype that runs throughout her writing is that of the poor. To her, the poor were dirty, incompetent, and - get this - ungrateful! Having grown up a member of the underclass, I would like to say to the Mary Wollstonecrafts of the world that we do not live to be your "poor work". Also, we can clean up, on occasion, and we can make our way in the world, on occasion, but, yes, we are ungrateful.
Mary Shelley is quite another story altogether. Perhaps we can find stereotypes and perhaps we cannot - it's irrelevant. The important thing about Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and The Last Man is the vision. Let me propose several things to you that amaze me about this vision. First of all, it seems out of place in her century but important to the century that you and I are about to enter. The vision is Malthusian in nature and, indeed, Malthus had published his view in plenty of time for Mary to have read it. But did she read Malthus? After all, Malthus extensively quotes Mary's own father, William Godwin, as someone who had it all wrong. Godwin was a proto-communist, perhaps the ultimate proto-communist. It was Godwin who invented the phrase "from each according to his ability and to each according to his needs". Godwin believed in the perfectibility of mankind - a denial that nature had any effect comparable to nurture's. He was the ultimate optimist in the power of science over the biological environment. All of these ideas became a part of communist doctrine. And, what is Mary Shelley's vision? Gads, she was more Mathusian than Malthus. Where did that come from? It sure as hell didn't come from those romantic poets she was schlocking around with. Her vision is of great interest to male readers who should find very little, if anything, that is offensive. Mary Shelley was no Mary Wollstonecraft - another puzzling observation!
Dear Ashton,
In four years I will have passed out of the boundaries set (somewhat arbitrarily) for the typical Austen fan in terms of having an intelligent look about me. Or perhaps I've already passed that boundary, and am clinging to a false notion. Of course, clinging to false notions is what I do best. Actually, I will no longer be in the age range suitable for a stereotypical Austen fan, according to a recent survey of librarians living south of the Mason Dixon Line, and posting to this page.
I have read Godwin but not Malthus. My impressions of Shelley's writing come only from two stories, the one famous one, and another she wrote when she was much too young to do so. I find no fault with them in terms of writing in general. I think they are marvelous, if you like big brushstrokes, and I do, but I'm dealing with fine strokes right now, on a tiny piece of ivory and what these strokes wrought (am I mixing metaphors?) seem far less contrived. But I think Dr. F. has way too much sensibility and not enough sense for my tastes. I won't even delve into the sensational aspects of his character. He annoys me beyond all hope. I dislike him more than Collins because he should have the intellect to rise above annoying behaviour, such as piecing together dead people. I tell you, that is one thing I cannot abide in a man. And what sort of discussion can you have over the water cooler with someone so annoyingly intense? Bah.
In fact, I had trouble mustering an iota of concern for any of the characters in Frankenstein, but I must say that I have a bit of a thing for the monster, of course, since feeling more for him than his creator is entirely intended, by the creator of them both.
What is the name of that story - you'll know it, I'm sure, that Ms. Shelley wrote while still quite young? Somewhat autobiographical, but I hope not too much, since it deals with a young girl who caused her mother's death by her own birth. She is abandoned by her grieving father as he travels Europe and she grows into a comely young maid. He then returns, and she is so strikingly like her mother that he begins to have inappropriate longings. Quite the tale. Anyway, that's one of the stories and some of the characters I had in mind when I suggested that Shelley's novels are peopled by stereotypes.
But what you said about Wollestonecraft's youth and writing potential must also be said for her daughter, I suppose. Very unfair of me. I would take up Frankenstein again and see where I have gone astray, but I just didn't like it enough the first time to torture myself with it again.
Dear Heather,
Matilda is the book you are describing. I think that Mary Shelley sent it to her publisher dad to be published. He was upset, naturally, and placed so many restrictions that she gave up the project. I believe it was only published posthumously. I think that Matilda was written after Frankenstein. Perhaps her mom had more natural writing ability, but one also needs a soul and a rigorous mind to write something worth reading. Wollstonecraft was filled with too much gender bias.
Within all the implausibility of Frankenstein is the perfectly plausible explanation of how a scientist might do in private something that affects us all in public. We are heading into an age of biological pollution - the age of cloning and genetic manipulation, and little Mary Shelley figured out on her own just how the disaster is to occur. Take a gander at The Last Man and discover if you agree that it is relevent to thinking about the AIDS pandemic.
You say "boundaries set"; do you also say things like "Euclidian rings" or "Bezout's identity". I mean, are you mathematical?
Dear Mister-Meister Master,
I made an excerpt of one of the most beautiful passages in English literature and wrapped it in my incomprehensible gibberish. If I am to gild the lily, I should at least find worthwhile gilding.
My point is this, on the face of it, the conversation between Anne and Harville is nonsense, some silly generalizations about which sex loves the more faithfully. It is a worthless debate on the face of it. At another level, the conversation is worthwhile because it is much needed shmoozing between sweet friends; each is unwittingly consoling the other for a loss. Anne seems to have lost Wentworth some eight years earlier and Harville has lost his illusion that any love for his departed sister would have been eternal. Anne hurts Harville's feelings when she hints that only a woman's love is constant and he starts the whole gender thing. The conversation never gets uncomfortable because of the impeccable manners of the two people and because of the deep-felt love and respect they share for one another. And then, within this form, Anne begins to express her loss and she does that more completely than she probably ever did to herself. In other words, the message becomes more important than the form and the message guides her thinking. Harville is moved by her expression and capitulates not from frustration but because he senses that the discussion is causing her some pain. He doesn't understand her message on the first level, but he senses its importance with great accuracy. There is, of course, one person in the room who overhears and understands Anne on every level. The point that I was trying to make is that this is the way that life is; there are many more messages than there are forms for delivering them. I think it must be the first rule of listening, that one must ignore the form and dig for the message. It is in this limited sense that Jane Austen allows gender war, as one of those few common forms that may carry so many different messages.
Yes, I think that Jane Austen writes male characters so very well and I might have said that this was the best thing she did if I had not caught myself and remembered Elizabeth Bennet, Marianne Dashwood, Emma Woodhouse, Fanny Price, Anne Elliot, etc. So, even on this point, gender warfare is nonsense.
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