To Everybody,

Some of you seem to have a great deal of time on your hands. I've been going over the messages of the last few weeks and some of you (especially Julie) apparently spend extraordinary amounts of time and effort pouring over books, researching. (I found the information you supplied immensely interesting!) I was just wondering how you got the time. I finally concluded that Julie had to be a librarian in order to have the opportunity and resources to conduct such extensive research. Chances are I'm dead wrong and you are just supremely dedicated, but do tell me what you do for a living, Julie. In fact it would be interesting to know what all of you do to keep the bread on the table. I am studying for the MCSE exams at present but hope to study medicine eventually.

Dear Ray,
I quite agree with you that the Chawton experience is less than satisfying. I was annoyed by the fuss made about the door and found its location somewhat of a puzzle myself. It seemed to me a rather stupid place to put a door anyway, at the bottom of a staircase where it would constantly be opened and shut. (But then again, I grew up with 2 sisters and a brother and could consequently just as well have been raised in a barn. Nobody closed doors inside the house because the sound of a door constantly opening and shutting is just plain irritating, so I might be misguided in this instance.)

The lock of Jane's hair in one display cabinet also gave me the creeps. Time has bleached to a yellowish white and I couldn't help but be reminded of the Roman Catholics who display the bones of their saints in a similar fashion. In the same display case there was a cross made of amber if I'm not mistaken. I cant remember if it actually belonged to Jane or whether it was displayed merely as typical of the period, but I do remember finding it rather gaudy. Something I found interesting was how small the rooms, but especially the doorways were. I had to duck to get into a few of the rooms.

I hope that you enjoyed your tour on the whole though, despite the creaking doors, vacuum cleaners and beer bellies.
Best wishes,
Hentie

Dear Henty,

I am trusting my dear Sir will supply the necessary references here, by reading which you will readily be able to see why I am no librarian!  ('I done told you once, you son of a bitch, I'm the best that's ever been'- insert fiddle music). [4/9/99, 4/10/99] I'm not even educated.  I am by trade a nursing sister, by which boring occupation I earn enough money to support forty goats, which I milk twice a day, in order, in turn, to keep a local cheese factory active and productive.

For heaven's sake, don't use my submissions as references for any real work, as all quotations are from memory, unless specifically designated otherwise, and thus likely to be inaccurate.

Ignore them about the irony.

I've baited my hook, and wriggled it under people's noses, but have yet to score a bite. Please, somebody, do reply soon, as Charlotte is beginning to feel uncomfortable.

Full lunar eclipse here tonight in Tasmania.  Must go baste my virgins - they are all crispy, and nearly ready for sacrifice.  Having some trouble plaiting the wicker, but I hope to have it all done by 8.30p.m.  Do you have eclipses in the Northern Hemisphere?
Julie

From the Meister: Were the virgins tourists? Well,
you do have a relationship to the library - only, it is
one that is closely monitored by the authorities. You
don't really want me to reply on Charlotte, do you?

Dear Hentie,

Welcome to the board!  It's nice to find someone who agrees with me that there is undeniably some form of irony at work at Jane Austen's novels. I want to warn you, however, that you will probably be beaten to a bloody pulp for daring to mention the dreaded "i" word.  Just wait until Ray gets back - you'll quickly learn his views on tweed and irony.  Don't be afraid though - the people on this board are great and you'll soon love it here.

Dear Hentie,

How do you do?

I find your comment on the meaning of 'romance', apropos of poor Miss Lucas, interesting.  I say 'poor' Miss Lucas because she cops one hell of a caning on this site, and for the life of me I cannot understand why.  The woman is no fool   she knows what she wants   '(She) is not romantic, you know  (she) never was.'  I don't think that Jane Austen meant her to be a subject of such blame  rather her actions serve as a counterpoint to Elizabeth's propensity to be quick in her judgements - her creator points out that, in considering the situations of Wickham and Miss King, Elizabeth was 'less clear-sighted in this case than in Charlotte's.'  And when all is said and done, what did Charlotte do?  She made one man happy by marrying him.  She made herself happy (according to her own definition of happiness) by gaining 'a comfortable home.' One feels that, like Lady Elliot, Mrs Collins will 'soften her husband's failings and promote his real respectability' for as long as the marriage endures.  In other words, her marriage was a business contract - Charlotte knew it, Mr Collins knew it, everybody knew it.  So what?  Well might Mr Bennet exercise his tongue on the subject, but when one thinks of what he had lurking in his own drawing room, ... well.  If Charlotte, according to Mr Bennet's estimation, was as foolish as his own wife in marrying Mr Collins, what sort of a fool is Mr Bennet?

Dragging once more to centre stage my two 'Diaries', I will say that Charlotte Lucas' type of marriage was by no means uncommon in the real-life period under discussion.  People did it all the time.  Marriage was a legal means of consolidating property, of acquiring property, of gaining pairs of hands in a business, or on a farm, or in a rectory.  It was a way of acquiring a carer for one's motherless children, as at least one of Jane Austen's brothers demonstrated.

I don't want to marry Mr Collins either, but I don't feel called upon to vilify his wife for that reason.  Perhaps Charlotte's actions strike at nerves in all of us, which is in itself a measure of Jane Austen's genius:  how many of us possess a dear relative, of either sex, married to a creature we cannot stand!

I do not like to theorise about characterisation in Jane Austen's novels, because I feel it is impertinent, but I sometimes wonder whether Charlotte's character (and let us ignore Elizabeth's flouncing about how 'she never really knew her at all!'), with its calmness, its sense, its capability and its reserve, does in some measure give us a glimpse of Cassandra Austen.
Julie

Dear Hentie,

Boy, am I glad you joined us. You are correct in suggesting that there is a lot of plunging in, clobbering to lifeless pulp, and elbowing out around here. I hope you enjoy that sort of thing as much as the rest of us. Actually, I am so plunged, clobbered, and elbowed that I am very happy to see some new blood on the scene - er, a new perspective on the scene.

You did take one stance that earns you your first clobbering; you have taken some things I said seriously. What can you be thinking!? Actually, when I made those remarks about the OED, I was teasing our Commonwealth friends about the differences between the spelling of words by us and their kindred. I have the utmost respect for the Oxford dictionaries and compendiums and it grieves me that my joke was so obscure that my attitude was mistaken. Like many Americans, I love English culture and accents. I only wish that English visitors to our country would try to understand that their dialect is actually a foreign language to us. All of our laws and most of out texts are written by Americans, so it would be foolish to teach our children a foreign tongue.

About one thing, I am deadly serious - the word "comedy". I don't mind when a nineteenth century critic uses that word, because the only criterion then was a happy ending. I don't like to see that word applied to our Lady's novels these days because I see so much that is serious in them. Some modern screenwriters tried to turn some of those novels into comedies, in the modern sense, and they need a good elbow-clobbering - or perhaps a good plunging-in of their stupid manuscripts.

You brought up the discussion of the word "romantic" again. The rule for bringing up old subjects is anybody, anything, anytime. That rule is strictly enforced. You are referring to a debate between Heather Swallow and myself. That debate ended in the best-possible, most-civilized way; each thought the other had been left a pounded, lifeless pulp. You point to the difficulty in maintaining my own position. It seems that I propose that Jane Austen used the word in two ways. I think that she used "romantic" in the archaic sense when she said she didn't write romances. That is clear from the context; Jane Austen was replying to a Librarian who suggested she write an historical adventure. On the other hand, I claim our Lady meant the word in the modern sense when Charlotte Lucas said she wasn't a romantic. Again the context was that Elizabeth was quizzing Charlotte about why she was marrying the stupidest man in England. Well - that is my contradiction and I am stuck with it.

Dear Hentie,

Hello. I hope you enjoy it here. I've found my fellow Janeites to be generous in the actors' sense of the word:  they work hard to bring out the best in one.

Julie:
Heather's explanation of Okanogan isn't entirely complete.  Here in the US the Okanogan is a river, a town, a county, and one  of the Colville Confederated Tribes. Don't ask me what it means -- I don't speak a word of Salish.

Heather:
Thanks for pointing out to Ash that there's a difference between what some people might do in the streets and what a person of intelligence and good breeding might do. It's common enough to see people smoking crack on the streets of Denver.  That doesn't mean a well-off religious woman of 28 is going to be doing it too.

Completely unrelated: no, black raspberries really are raspberries (it's too dry around here for blackberries to be a nuisance.)  These are called "blackcaps" in Colorado.  They're a variety that turn blue-black when ripe.  They've turned my entire kitchen (and large portions of me) purple while I've been making jam.  Batch one is done and batch two is ready to be cooked. The peaches are just coming on here so next week will be spent freezing and preserve making.
Cheryl

To Everybody,

Thank you for your warm welcome, I appreciate it.

Dear Ash,
Thank you for clarifying your remarks on the OED. I'll try not to take the things you say seriously again..... I do agree though that the modern use of the word comedy is not applicable to Jane Austen's books.

Dear Heather and Cheryl,
Congratulations on your admirable attacks on the kissing scene in the film version of Persuasion, I'm with you all the way. I don't know what you guys thought of the film as a whole, but I detested it. The beginning was OK except for Elizabeth not being pretty enough. There were parts I liked but as a whole the film was very badly handled. It is totally devoid of charm, the direction/editing is shabby, the kiss was out of place, there was the part where she got up and ran out in front of everybody during the musical exhibition, and last but certainly not least, the idiotic idea of combining the two endings. Also, the actor portraying Wentworth is an utter dog. I'm sure I could find many more errors if I watch the film again, but I simply don't have the stomach.

Dear Julie,
I also don't think that Charlotte makes a mistake in marrying Collins. Her decision to accept his offer of marriage was a calculated one and I believe that she encouraged his attentions from the start. Mr Collins is not wicked but he has a weak mind and I suppose that he realizes this subconsciously and is therefore rather uncertain of himself, hence his total dependence on the opinion of Lady Catherine. (I realize that I may be seeing things in his character that are not actually there, so feel free to trash this theory if you disagree with what I'm saying.) Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that part of Charlotte's reason for marrying Collins was that she sensed that he could be easily controlled should the need arise. I'm not saying she is a control-freek, I'm just saying that she would want to be sure that she could handle this silly man before agrees to spend the rest of her life with him.

I think I can understand your dislike of film versions of Jane Austen's books. When one has loved a book for as long as most of us have, the characters in those books are alive in our heads, and may even speak to us now and then. In this, they are a lot like a close friend or relative who died but still lives in your head. Now imagine someone making a movie about the life of that close friend or relative of yours. Sure, it is flattering in a way, but it doesn't feel right. No matter how good the director or how accomplished the actors, it just feels phony because the person on the screen, no matter how admirable in his or her own way, will never be the person you knew.

I must admit that I quite enjoyed the film version of P&P. I believe it is the best adaptation ever of a Jane Austen novel. I found both Ehle and Firth's performances to be praiseworthy.  I can understand though that other people might not share my enthusiasm.
Best wishes,
Hentie

Dear Julie and Ashton,

Ashton: I confess I think there's a basic fault in your reasoning in the debate of what world Jane Austen lived in.  Our view of history is necessarily skewed by simple selection bias.  Few people (except Pepys) record in their diaries the mundane happenings of everyday life  what they remember and write down is more likely to be the unusual or significant. And we tend to selectively remember from those choices what interested or surprised us the most.  It's the same with newspaper accounts:   we don't see a 20 point headline that reads "Teenager goes to school, gets a B on his Geometry exam!!!" and we wouldn't read the article anyway -- because it isn't news, the definition of which hasn't changed much since Jane's time.

I also believe that  back in the days of difficult travel and slow communication society wasn't anywhere near as homogenous as it is today.  Life at court was as much removed from the real world then as it is today and "city" morality didn't play in the countryside.  Even today when (American) society probably shares more of the same experiences than ever before, there's a huge division between the daily habits and beliefs of a Southern Baptist congregation in Biloxi and a Unitarian congregation in Syracuse.

I'm afraid I also have to take issue with Julie's comment about the "selective blindness" of JA's novels.  Emma and Sense and Sensibility both have illegitimate children (as does The Watsons, doesn't it?) Mansfield Park and Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion all have fornication/adultery, with Lady Susan a probable adulterer as well.  That's six for six of the "major" novels by my reckoning. None of them are servant girls or squatters, but then again, neither are any  of JA's other characters.  Certainly, she doesn't look on these events with a 20th century eye or write about them in an explicit way.  And she has some severe comments about their propriety and morality, with unpleasant consequences for some characters who engage in such activities.

In the end, I'm probably just quibbling over the difference between generalizations and sweeping generalizations. JA was clearly a woman of strong morals and integrity.  She appears to have been  a strong character who knew her own mind and tastes.  If she chose not to discuss or write about certain things, well, I don't watch South Park or read the Aryan Times (which I admit I think are marks of good taste and intelligence.)  JA also lived in an era when "appropriate" and "appropriate to talk about in company" were two different things.  (And when one of your co-workers starts telling you about his/her medical history since the age of 14, don't you wish it were still here?)  Whether or not the milk cow should be put to bull might have been proper breakfast table conversation among the family, but not for the weekly assembly. Or for Pride and Prejudice. Inventor of the "realistic" novel or not, JA's novels are still delightful escapist fare.

Dear Cheryl,

Go, go!  Exactly right.  I can even supply you with a literary allusion if you need one.  In Mrs Gaskell's Wives and Daughters, the heroine is called upon, owing to circumstances beyond her control, to meet a gentleman in the woods.  That's all she does, by the way - just meet him. The furore!  The matter was referred to her father, and the child characterised as 'carrying on like my housemaid!'  Mrs Gaskell was no contemporary of Jane Austen, naturally, but mores had not changed as much as all that.  If Anne Elliot kissed Captain Wentworth, it would have appeared in the text of the novel.  Full stop.  Of course, the Princess Regent of Great Britain was, at the time of the novel's writing, cavorting around Europe with a cavalcade of lovers in her wake and may, for all I know, have bonked up and down the main streets of all European capitals before breakfast  - that is irrelevant, as well. Jane Austen despised the manners of the aristocracy, and particularly those of the court of the Prince Regent.   Her novels concern themselves neither with the very high, nor with the very low - middle England was her province.  Terms such as 'middle class' and 'bourgeousie' had yet to be coined, and I suppose - England was not yet the nation of shopkeepers it was to become.  But, really, do you expect to see exhibitions of passion on the street corner when you pop out to buy your bread and milk of a morning?  We certainly don't.  Such demonstrations are usually put on for our benefit by the very young, who invariably think they invented it.  Adults are generally more sophisticated - and Anne Elliot was definitely an adult.  And all else aside, I could not for one minute imagine that Captain Wentworth would expose her in such a way, for every passing farrier, ostler and ribbon-seller to snigger at.

We grow very nice cherries in Tasmania, and our state's nickname is 'the Apple Isle', because we do that, too.  So I imagine you were visiting a climate similar to mine, except that we are not plague by the inroads of civilisation.  Can you get lobster, too, in Oka - whatever it is?
Julie

Dear Ash,

I agree with your general idea, Ash, which I take to be that Austen is between eras, but you seem to contradict yourself (and perhaps I should be used to that by now - oops, excuse my elbows.) I quite agree with your suggestion that Austen had little in common with the Victorian era, but you don’t go far enough if you don’t admit that her world was as different from Fielding’s as from James’s.  You say that Austen’s time "is nearly identical to that of Fielding" and then you go on to suggest that Jane Austen’s time was "the time of Mozart, Beethoven, Goya and Byron ..."  None of that makes Austen’s time nearly identical to Fielding’s.  His was concerned, among other things, with "while we’re fighting each other about who has the right to the English throne, who’s keeping an eye on the French?"  Perhaps he had heard Mozart but you are greatly mistaken about Beethoven and Byron.  Anyway, that’s beside the point.

The point is that Tom Jones could kiss a maid in the street, and indeed, so could Wentworth, but neither could kiss the daughter of a gentleman (Sir Walter’s definition) in the street.  Your argument is based on the mistaken premise that the world created in literature is an exact reflection of the world in which its author lived.  Yet you go on to affirm that you know such is not true.  I’m very confused.  Let me try this out on you.  A man in JA’s time could kiss a woman in JA’s time, in the street, on the mouth, without being thrown in the pillory for such an exhibition. I agree.  It follows, then, you say, that Wentworth could kiss Anne Elliot in the street in broad daylight, on the mouth.  I disagree.  One scenario is England at the turn of a century, the other is a scene suggested by a novel written at the turn of the century, and not just any novel, but a Jane Austen novel.  Obviously, these are two different things.  I can forgive filmmakers their sometimes inaccurate attempts at realism of an era long gone, indeed I applaud all efforts to help the word become flesh, but they must at least try to be true to the characters that the novelist created, and which are sitting right in front of them!  Let Lydia and Wickham kiss in the street all they want, but Anne Elliot must have better.

If you want to know whether such behaviour would be allowed, you have to look at other writings of the same genre, indeed other writings of the same author would be best, and make sure they apply to people of the same general class, education and character.  Goodness, JA wouldn’t even let Jane Bennet write a simple note to Bingley to let him know she was in town and staying at the Gardners, and they were, as far as everyone was concerned, as good as engaged!  But they were NOT engaged, and neither, I beg you to remember, are Wentworth and Anne Elliot, except by their own tacit agreement.  It is a bitter pill to swallow, indeed, but you need to read more Richardson if you think it is okay for the daughter of a baronet to kiss a sailor to whom she is entirely unconnected, let alone to do it in plain view of Tom the tailor, Dick the chandler and Harry the town gossip.

I liked the scene, though.  And besides, after all they’d been through I can forgive them one little smackeroo. Now, let them announce their engagement, and they can kiss any time, anywhere. (Do I need to rephrase that?)

What I found really problematic with the movie occurred a few scenes before when Anne got out of her seat near the front row of a recital, abandoning the increasingly annoying Mr. Elliot who had attached himself to her, and pursuing Wentworth out of the room in order to make sure he was not under a false impression.  None of Austen’s women of sense would do such a thing (although those of sensibility might).  Not even Miss Anne Elliot, fearing to lose the love of her life for a second time, would make such a scene.  I hope she would make herself understood, but in the proper time and place.  JA did not write such a scene.  Anne waits on pins and needles until the appropriate moment, because from all I can tell of JA’s opinion, such behaviour was not appropriate for a genteel young lady.  Over and over she insisted, or had her characters insist to one another, that restraint and decorum is best, even in matters of the heart.  In fact, especially so.  To rush from the room like that would amount to a declaration, and I’m surprised Wentworth didn’t just smooch her right then and there!

It seems to me that the screenwriter also put words in Anne’s mouth that were entirely inappropriate, but I’m not sure.  When defending her visit to Mrs. Smith instead of the Dalrymples, and being put down soundly by her father for preferring a Mrs. Smith with no connections, a mere sickly widow, etc. etc.  Does Anne actually say out loud, "Well she’s not the only poor, nameless widow in Bath" with reference to Mrs. Clay?  I know in the book she just thinks it, but how does that get across in the movie?

Oh, I could go on, as you well know, but I pause here to change the subject and answer a question.  Julie:  The reason you’ve never heard of the state of Okanagan is because there isn’t one. It’s a valley in British Columbia filled with a big lake and a lot of orchards. Meanwhile, on the other side of the border, the "Cherry State" is actually the "Evergreen State" and more famous for apples. . . but maybe it should be the cherry state: isn’t Washington famous for confessing to cutting down a cherry tree?  And I think he’s famous for a couple of other things, too.  Anyway, the Okanagan is better than Bath, apparently.  With all the sunshine and water around, it attracts plenty of people of the sort to turn Sir Walter’s head.  Their complexions were far too weathered for him, but their attire would have made him blink.

And hello Hentie, (if you read this far) you are welcome here all the more since you’ve taken up the gauntlet I finally dropped in exhaustion.  Already you have had better luck than I in convincing Ashton the error of his ways.

Heather: First of all, my contention is that Jane Austen is not between eras. I believe her to be in a cultural era nearly identical to that of Fielding, and nothing like that of the Victorian. The "contradiction" you point to exists only in your mind, and it is wedged there because of the way you read my term "cultural influence". You are a literary scholar and so you have the bias that such a term must mean the output of the artistic elite. So, you see a contradiction because Fielding did not know of Byron or Beethoven. However, I mean the term, and this is clear from context, in the sense that an anthropologist might use "cultural influences" - manners, morals, customs, habits, etc. In that sense, I do not contradict myself. I hope you will read my response to Julie on 7/24/99. There I excerpt the thoughts of Jane Austen's nephew who was an aware being in his Aunt's time as well as the Victorian. I think his testimony tends to bear me out on this matter. There is no mystery here; the Victorian culture was one of the British Empire and Industrial Revolution, neither of which impinged on Jane Austen's culture (I'm using the word in it's fullest, most useful sense). The mechanical inventions of the Victorian, of which Jane Austen never knew, had a tremendous impact on the customs, habits and attitudes of Englishmen. As you know, I am not a scholar so I do not speak with authority; but that does not mean that I am incapable of insight or logic. You say - this stunned me - "... Tom Jones could kiss a maid in the street, and indeed, so could Wentworth, but neither could kiss the daughter of a gentleman (Sir Walter’s definition) in the street." That is totally Victorian! You say that was also true of the Regency - I don't believe that - what is your evidence?

You say "Goodness, JA wouldn’t even let Jane Bennet write a simple note to Bingley to let him know she was in town and staying at the Gardners, and they were, as far as everyone was concerned, as good as engaged!" You seem to forget that Jane Austen had no trouble allowing Marianne Dashwood to do just that. Also, are you forgetting that Jane Bennet did something bolder than merely writing to Bingley, she went to his house. Given the opportunity, I say she would have kissed him. Do you remember why she was in London in the first place? - and with Elizabeth's blessing? Jane was there to get Bingley and get him good.

The real problem with the film is not the kiss, it is the scene when Wentworth bursts into a card party and demands Sir Walter's consent in front of the assembled company.

Cheryl: I suspect that the English society of Jane Austen's time was far more homogeneous than was ever the case in America. There is one very good reason for that, all the local parsons were from the same class and were educated at the same place. Even by that early time, American society had all the diversity of greater Europe, and much of Africa and Native America.

Julie: Maybe it is possible that Adam Bede might have impregnated Hetty, but if he had she would not have had the trouble of swearing of it. If fact, given the opportunity, he would have married her even knowing that she was carrying the young squire's child.

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