Dear BKB,

Okay, first off, your comments were not nearly as skookum as they might have been. Also, I am as good at imagining alternate scenarios for novels as I am at entirely missing their point, but on the subject of Anne not being able to handle the scanty funds and absent husband commensurate with marriage to a sea-farin’ man, well, I need further persuasion.

No, Anne is no prisoner.  I hope I never said she was.  She allows herself to be directed by others, not owned by them. But a person with greater self esteem develops her own opinions, and deals with her doubts herself, as we see Elizabeth Bennet and Emma Woodhouse doing with wonderful consequences.  Emma, in fact, is more likely to mistrust her doubts, on those rare occasions that they arise, than she is to mistrust her judgment.  Both young ladies have had occasion to leap to the wrong conclusions, but they choose the direction of that leap all by themselves.  Elizabeth Bennet accepts Wickham’s opinion because it fits so nicely with the one she has already conceived.  Emma has such a difficult time accepting other people’s opinions that it takes days, perhaps weeks of study before Knightley’s objections to certain behaviour eventually wear Emma down, though in her heart she knew right away that her conduct on Box Hill was inappropriate.  Don’t even get me started on Lady Susan.  If they seek the advice of others, these women generally have their minds made up and are usually looking for approval.

Anne Elliot is a different flavoured cookie altogether.  She is described in the early lines of the novel in terms that give her no reason to think highly of herself, since her only surviving parent thinks nothing of her at all.  I contend that as her life progresses she begins to value herself more and trust her own opinions more, or the opinions of her family less, until, by the time we meet her, she possesses abundant conviction and belief in herself, though her family may not.  By the end of the novel Anne is willing to oppose the opinions that do not support her own, instead of feed her doubts with them.

Austen is our only source for determining what we can otherwise never know.  Does our author intend us all to believe, as you do, that things would never have worked out so well had Anne accepted Wentworth the first time? Putting aside the fact that her initial refusal makes for an interesting story (and places Anne squarely among most Austen heroines in having refused her first offer of marriage), my reading is that Lady Russell’s opinions are not always terribly solid.  Indeed, her initial opinion may have been as groundless as her later one.  You make a good point about circumstances having changed by the end of the novel.  It is my point, too. Particularly, Anne’s belief in herself.  Anne would be quite right to accept Wentworth now, from a financial perspective (which is never out of the picture).  However, what hasn’t changed is that people are still planning Anne’s life for her, and Lady Russell’s opinion of the Captain hasn’t undergone much change either.  Remember, it was her opinion of him that had the strongest weight when Anne was younger.  She now has her heart set on marrying Anne off to Mr. Elliot, and continues to discourage Anne’s attentions to the Captain.  But Anne chooses against her "mother’s" wishes.  Then:

"The only one among them, whose opposition of feeling could excite any serious anxiety was Lady Russell.  Anne knew that Lady Russell must be suffering some pain in understanding and relinquishing Mr Elliot, and be making some struggles to become truly acquainted with, and do justice to Captain Wentworth.  This however was what Lady Russell had now to do.  She must learn to feel that she had been mistaken with regard to both;  that she had been unfairly influenced by appearances in each;  that because Captain Wentworth's manners had not suited her own ideas, she had been too quick in suspecting them to indicate a character of dangerous impetuosity;  and that because Mr Elliot's manners had precisely pleased her in their propriety and correctness, their general politeness and suavity, she had been too quick in receiving them as the certain result of the most correct opinions and well-regulated mind.  There was nothing less for Lady Russell to do, than to admit that she had been pretty completely wrong, and to take up a new set of opinions and of hopes.  There is a quickness of perception in some, a nicety in the discernment of character, a natural penetration, in short, which no experience in others can equal, and Lady Russell had been less gifted in this part of understanding than her young friend.  But she was a very good woman, and if her second object was to be sensible and well-judging, her first was to see Anne happy.  She loved Anne better than she loved her own abilities  and when the awkwardness of the beginning was over, found little hardship in attaching herself as a mother to the man who was securing the happiness of her other child."

Now who is being persuaded?  The title of the novel to me meant not so much Anne’s being persuaded to do or not do things, but rather her gentle ability to guide people herself.  The only person she doesn’t guide is Anne Elliot, and she suffers greatly because of it.  It is the "There is a quickness of perception" - line that makes me think that Anne could have accepted the "impetuous" young Wentworth without suffering as much as she did in refusing him. This means that the only thing that prevented Anne from being happy earlier in her life, was her own willingness to give more weight to other people’s perceptions than her own. Anne would have accepted Lady Russell’s most recent gentle persuasions in earlier days, but now she is convinced of the correctness of her own mind and heart.  If that is not taking charge of one’s life, what would you call it?

Dear Ray,

My husband was a lawyer for thirteen years.  He hated it, and now runs a little shop, where he sells ice creams, bread, dog food and the like, and is very happy.  Of all of his group of friends who studied law, not one is still practising.  Interesting, isn't it?  Of course, Australian law is a very different proposition to U.S. law, but I feel if one wants to do it, it is best approached later in life (definitely not straight from school!)  That way, most people have had time to change their minds, and the remainder should have some idea of what they are taking on.

Now, to more important matters. I am reading again one of my all-time favourite books, To Kill A Mockingbird, and for the first time have access to people who might be able to help.  I have asked another correspondent for help in translating some local terms, but I was most snootily informed that such words were CERTAINLY never used in California.  Anything's possible in California, I hear.

Can you tell me, please, what is meant by the following: scuppernong, crackling bread, kudzu (as in bush or tree), collards, and pot liquor.  I have already found out that a 'biscuit' is in fact a bread roll, but the OED has been unable to help me with these terms.
Julie

Dear Julie,

I have a broad experience of the South, particularly Georgia, and believe I can clear up some of your confusion.

Scuppernong (also called "Muscadine") is a fermented beverage made from a sweet fruit similar to a grape. Is is usually referred to as Wine, and is very syrupy.

Crackling bread is corn bread, a southern staple, made with the pan drippings, also known as cracklings, from bacon or ham. That describes the crackling bread that I have eaten. Someone else may define it differently, but of one thing you can be sure. It is greasy, salty and extremely filling.

Kudzu is a monstrously aggressive vine with large, leathery leaves, very common to the deep south. It will attack and overgrow trees so mercilessly that they die from lack of sunlight. One often sees in rural areas abandoned houses that are entirely covered with it.

Collards, also known as collard greens or greens, is a tough and plentiful green, belonging to the category of "soul food." The collards are cleaned, cut, and cooked for hours and hours, usually with a ham bone or meat scraps, and plenty of salt. Greens are traditionally served with a sauce of vinegar in which hot peppers have soaked. Believe me when I tell you, what collards lack in elegance, they more than make up for in taste and texture. I adore them.

Pot liquor is a rather old-fashioned term for broth.

I hope this helps you. Y'all come visit soon.

Dear Julie,

I will tell you about all that stuff as long as I do not have to eat any of it. Cracklin bread is more or less regular cornbread to which is added cracklings which are the solid stuff that floats to the top when a hog (or what is left of him) is rendered to make lard. Collards are a "green" such  as turnip greens or mustard greens. Collards are nothing but a bunch of leaves which grow like lettuce. People actually eat them, why I can not even guess (I mean come on, we have McDonalds now) Greens are cooked in a large pot with water and usually a ham bone. The liquid that is left over after the greens are taken out is called pot liquor. A scuppernong is a type of dark grape which seems to thrive in our blast furnace climate. People talk about making wine from them, but I have never talked with anyone who has actually drunk such a brew. Kudzu is so worthless that no one has figured out how to eat it. It is a ground cover with leaves about the size of a saucer. It was imported into the south from Japan back in the late thirties to try and stop soil erosion. It stopped it allright. The stuff grows so fast that it has covered houses, cars (parked, not running down the road) telephone poles and whatever the hell gets in its way. It is a very thick cover, totally covering the ground to the extent that what one sees is a sea of kudzu stretching away to the horizon. It is now treated with herbicide so it is not as bad as it was forty years ago when you would see miles of kudzu trying to jump the hiway and take over the world.

In keeping with my desire to tie whatever I say on this site to Jane Austen, let me say that it is both my guess and my hope that our Lady would not have touched any of the food here mentioned nor would she have put up with kudzu for a minute.

Dear BKB and Ray,

This has been a great help; thank you, except that I need to take things one step further. What is corn bread, regular or otherwise?

The whole cuisine certainly sounds most exotic.  I seem to remember somebody in Gone With The Wind drinking scuppernong wine (not Scarlett, as she made straight for the brandy!), and I'm pretty sure the dead Yankee was buried by Miss Scarlett and Miss Melanie under the scuppernong arbour.

It sounds as if kudzu has done for parts of the U.S. what lantana has done for the north of Australia - pretty well stuffed it, in fact. I wish we had exotic cuisine items I could share with you to show my gratitude, but, alas ... only MacDonald's and Kentucky Fried Chicken (and I hope THAT is not representative of Southern fare!).  I have a cousin, though, who dreams of farming catfish and starting a Cajun restaurant.  I thought 'Cajun' was a sloppy way of saying 'occasion', but I know better now.  Needless to say, said cousin is regarded as a social outcast by more enlightened members of the family.  We think it all came from her having a French surname.

I also need to know what a "trot line" is?
Julie

Dear Julie (and Laurie),

Even I know what cornbread is, and it's not just because my granny was from Virginia. You must eat it, but call it something else.  Don't you have any cakey/bready things made out of corn meal?  It's a great vegetarian dish with chili because combined with beans you get almost all your amino acids and can leave the "carne" out of the chili without feeling nutritionally deprived.  [Tie-in for Ray:  I believe they serve chili in Austin.]

Of course, corn is really a North American food, I suppose.  Maybe other countries don't use it for everything the way we do.  Aside from breads, cakes and pancakes, the meal keeps pizza and cookies from sticking to the pan, we use it for syrup and for oil.  We make dolls from the husks.  You know, when I think about it, we really get crazy with the stuff!

I have a brother-in-law from Zambia who tells me stories about how yellow corn is animal feed where he comes from.  Humans eat white corn (and in South Africa the word "corn" has one of those popping sounds their language is full of - kind of appropriate).  When North Americans sent truckloads of yellow corn to Africa, people were appalled to be treated like so much cattle. The missionaries had to send home for photographs of white folks eating yellow corn before anyone would touch it.  Another lesson in being careful about what we take for granted, eh?  (--Little Acadian term thrown in at the end for continuity).

While I'm here and off the topic, a note for Laurie:  I am a secretary in an international law office.  I have nothing to add to Ray's and Julie's postings regarding lawyers, except to suggest that you re-read them.  Really, there must be something else that interests you?

From the Meister: When Jane Austen said "corn", she
meant "wheat". I don't know if that is still a problem
in Australia. I think they not only serve chili in Texas,
I think they invented it. I mean it is a Texas dish and
not Mexican. OK, so what is a "skookum"?

Dear Ash,

The meaning of the word is easy to guess:  Julie congratulated Laurie by saying "great" in her own way and you threw in a couple of dogies to Americanize your congratulations (so I thought), so I added a Canadian version of "great."  Except that I'm not sure how Canadian it is, since I rarely hear it here in a southern city.  Either it's a northern term or it's a country term, but it is by no means universal.  As to origin, it sounds vaguely like it might be Inuktitut (or "Eskimo" to be less PC, but probably better understood). I've heard it used among surveyors and oil-rig workers, both of whom had every occasion to mingle with Inuit people, but for that matter, some of 'em were Newfoundlanders, and they have a dialect all their own!  Anyway, I doubt very much it's in the OED.

To All,

It is interesting to read people's views on Jane Austen's characters, what do you think on their creator's views?

Mrs Bennet: 'She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper.  When she was discontented she fancied herself nervous.' Mr Bennet marries her because he is captivated by 'youth and beauty, and the impression of good-humour they usually give', but soon finds that 'her illiberal mind and mean understanding very soon put an end to all respect and esteem.'

After Lydia's elopement, Jane Austen comments that Mrs Bennet receives the Gardiners 'with tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill usage, blaming everybody but the person to whose ill judging indulgence the errors of her daughter must be principally owing.'

And in her farewell glance at Mrs Bennet, Jane Austen comments that she remains 'occasionally nervous and invariably silly.'  It is also worth noting that even Jane Bingley, the mildest of women, found Netherfield a trifle too close to her Meryton relations.

Jane Austen is frank, often brutally so, in her estimations of her characters.  My personal favourite is when she rips into Mrs Price: '[Fanny] might scruple to make use of the words, but she must and did feel that her mother was a partial, ill-judging parent, a dawdle, a slattern, who neither taught nor restrained her children, whose house was the scene of mismanagement and discomfort from beginning to end, and who had no talent, no conversation, no affection towards herself.....'  Heavens, Jane, don't be so subtle!

Lady Bertram does not even appear to be worthy of detailed analysis - or perhaps there simply was no detail?  'To the education of her daughters, Lady Bertram paid not the smallest attention.  She had not time for such cares.  She was a woman who spent her days in sitting nicely dressed on a sofa, doing some long piece of needle-work, of little use and no beauty, thinking more of her pug than her children, but very indulgent to the latter, when it did not put herself to inconvenience..'

Even Sir Thomas acknowledges to himself, before leaving for Antigua, that he did not feel Lady Bertram quite equal to supplying his place, 'or rather taking what should have been her own', in minding the children.

I find a lot of this interesting because, in telling us what she finds contemptible (and one can certainly hear the contempt in Jane Austen's voice) about these women, she gives some hints as to what she might find praiseworthy.  Of course, having never been a wife or a mother, I feel she may be a bit harsh.  I would not like to be in Mrs Price's situation, for instance.  If the husband finds money for drink, where does she find money for the children's food?

A word of warning about the Folio Society:  Beware!  It is addictive.  I'm slowly bankrupting myself with beautiful editions of interesting books.  Can't resist.
Julie

Dear Julie,

Several of us have been defending Mrs. Bennet's parenting and all of us noted that this lady had her defects. Your excerpts do nothing to counter that view, except to point to Jane Austen's characterization of her creation's over-indulgence of Lydia. Over-indulgence is a mistake - how else to interpret "over-"? - but, it is the mistake made by the good parent and not the bad. Besides, Mrs. Bennet does not allow her special affection for Lydia to cloud what must be her first priority, the marriage of her eldest daughter, Jane Bennet. I think that the removal of Mr. and Mrs. Bingley from Netherfield had more to do with giving Jane easy access to Elizabeth than to escape from the Longbourn neighborhood.

If your intent was to point to poor mothers in the novels, then your excerpts in regards to Mrs. Price and Lady Bertram are somewhat successful. I could quibble (Jane Austen is not describing a Lady Susan or a Madame Bovary in this passages) but I will not because your excellent posting was very striking to me for another reason; I wonder if you noticed the same thing. Mrs. Price and Lady Bertram are sisters! And, let repeat your excerpt in reference to Mrs. Price

'[Fanny] might scruple to make use of the words, but she must and did feel that her mother was a partial, ill-judging parent, a dawdle, a slattern, who neither taught nor restrained her children, ..., and who had no talent, no conversation, no affection towards herself.....'

What was so very striking to me is that this description exactly applies to Lady Bertram as well! I must say that Lady Bertram was a great mystery to me, and remains so, but your posting helps me understand that she is no accident - her exact counterpart lives in Portsmouth. The only differences in the women are due to the fact that the one married slightly above her station and the other married well below. I mean, reverse the situations of the two women and you might not notice any difference. Of course there is that third sister - Aunt Norris (ugh!). We can even imagine the childhood of the three sisters when the third sister managed all the affairs of her lethargic siblings. A kind of management that carried over to adulthood when the now Aunt managed her nieces at Mansfield Park, even arranging the marriage of Maria to a wealthy landowner (after her bother-in-law was safely out of the country). And the busy aunt even arranged the composition of the families, transferring Fanny from a home where there were too many children to the more comfortable arrangement. Don't you see what a wonderfully complete picture this makes?

Dear Sir,

Re Lady Bertram and Mrs Price:  Jane Austen makes the same point regarding their similarity. When Fanny first sees her mother, the remark is made that her face is dearer still 'because it brought that of Lady Bertram before her.'  It is elsewhere pointed out that Mrs Norris would have made a much more respectable mother of nine children on a small income (one has a secret yearning to see her sorting Mr Price right out!), and Fanny also muses on how similar are her mother and aunt, and the sadness of seeing one (her mother) degraded by circumstances.  Their affection for each other is spoken of as being 'equally tranquil' - they just seem hopelessly vague to me.

I do love the way you will look at a direct quote from one of the novels and just blithely decide not to believe it!  This is simply one of the differences between us:  I love the novels as they are, and find them complete in themselves, whereas you like to extrapolate.  Good for you!
Julie

Dear Sir,

Insomnia will do strange things.  Here I am at the computer, at 4.00a.m., quite unable to sleep, and wide awake now that I have read your post.  I wasn't offering a criticism at all, so soothe your ruffled feathers.  'Gracious, child, I was just ravelling a thread!' (I'm still very much in 'Mockingbird' mode, you see).  We've actually discussed this before, and the basis of the thing is that I tend to look at the novels each as a complete unit, whereas I feel you tend to explore possible alternatives more.  The discussion of parents is a good illustration: to me, there is no ambiguity in Jane Austen's view of her parental creations:  the quotes I pointed out a couple of posts ago (to me) shows that.  The fact that she tells us exactly what she thinks of people, and that her judgement is clear-sighted and quite unsentimental (she is much less sentimental about Mrs Bennet, for instance, than you are) is, I find, one of her greatest attractions.  To take another example - Sir Walter Elliot.  'Vanity was the beginning and end of Sir Walter's character.'  Again, at the end of the novel, Captain Wentworth is finally esteemed 'quite worthy to address the daughter of a foolish, spendthrift baronet, who had not sense enough to maintain himself in the position in which Providence had placed him.' These uncompromising judgements of her characters will be found in all of her novels, though perhaps not so explicitly stated in Northanger Abbey and Sense and Sensibility. I suppose the difference between us is that the author's views are all to me, whereas you like to turn them this way and that, before the light, in order to find shades of meaning.  Viva la difference!
Julie

P.S.: And also because it is harder for me to muse and think up alternatives, because I have most of the texts in my head!  I was trying to work it out the other day, but I think it's been about six months since I have opened one of Jane Austen's novels.  Time for a reread?
Julie

Dear Julie,

You do point to an essential difference between the two of us but I balk at you wording because it seems unfair to both of us; you make my thinking sound too loose and yours too rigid. I am going to say essentially the same thing in a way more complimentary to both of us.

I have never encountered anyone with as much command of the text of Jane Austen's novels as yourself. The amazing thing is that you are not really a Jane-Austen freak - someone who focuses on only Jane Austen. You have a wide knowledge of English literature, which you complement with an extensive reading in historical reading for the purposes of context. I will never understand how you do that given that you hold two jobs - nursing supervisor and goatherd entrepreneur - and manage a husband and family. The only thing I can imagine is that some goats somewhere aren't getting milked on time. Jane Austen would often give thumbnail sketches of characters and, as you have clearly demonstrated in your last couple of posts, you know exactly which characters are sketched in this way and where those sketches are located.

I wonder if you noticed that Jane Austen did not sketch everyone in this way? There are no such sketches of Elizabeth Bennet or Darcy or Fanny Price, etc. That is because these we are to discern the nature of these characters from the text. Those sketches are provided because they are needed for some characters; those sketches allowed Jane Austen to give a lot of information without providing a great deal of prose to develop less central characters - they are shortcuts.

Here is where you and I part company. I do not believe that those thumbnail sketches completely describe the characters for which they are supplied - I believe that they are merely supplementary. I believe that, just as we are allowed to formulate an opinion of Darcy, our Lady also invited us to form an opinion of, say, Mrs. Bennet based upon the thumbnail sketch as well as her actions in the novel.

It is always my purpose to understand Jane Austen's intent. I succeed only where I do not allow my views or my vision interfere with my purpose. How often do I succeed? How often do you succeed? Those are the questions for which this community forum was designed to answer.

Let me recommend my approach: If one relies solely on the sketches, then I believe that Jane Austen can seem a bit mean-spirited. Take the broader view of her characters, in the context of their actions in the novels, and Jane Austen will seem an angel.

For the most part, the parents in Austen's novels are good parents who happen to make a few mistakes in raising their children. It is easy to say that they are bad parents because Austen is so accurate a painter of people's characters that if we were to judge the parents by our standards we probably would call them bad parents, even though they are more mistaken than bad or uncaring. For example, Mr. Bennet makes a mistake in allowing Lydia to travel to Brighton.  He thought he was sending her with a couple who would look after her and keep her out of trouble.  Granted, if Mr. Bennet had tried harder to instill proper moral values in her when she was younger the elopement might not have taken place, but the fact is that Lydia made the decision on her own.  As Ashton noted in his post, the same family and set of circumstances that produced Jane and Elizabeth Bennet also produced Lydia Bennet, so the Bennets' parenting cannot have been all that bad.

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