Reference: 8/24/99

Dear Julie,

I am discombobulated.  Miss Lucy Steele a harpy?  The Lucy Steele who was able through her modest and respectable attentiveness to win her way into acceptance by Mrs. Ferras?  I suppose that that there are those who think that one bad lot had merely recognized a second bad lot  but considering that after winning acceptance from her mother-in-law she had become such an attentive daughter to her that she was able to persuade Edward's mother to become reconciled with Edward and Elinor and even to make considerable money available to them.  I can think of no other reason for her intercession on Edward's behalf than a genuine love and affection for both Edward and Elinor. After all, she was aware that only duty and honour held Edward to her and that his heart had gone to Elinor. Surely it is a remarkably generous young woman who can forgive both the man whose love she had lost and the woman who had inadvertantly taken it from her.  I do not forget that Jane Austen found it amusing to provide a convenient way out of difficulties for characters she meant us to consider or reconsider favourably. In each of the six novels there is a group of characters upon whom Jane Austen worked her affectionate magic.  There are no tragic heroes among those who meet a deserved bad end, and because the novels are all comedies, by definition the principal virtuous characters must meet a happy ending.

Jane Austen must certainly have been aware of the philosophical turmoil, including the anarchy fostered in Mary W's writings, whom she must have met when they were neighbours or least at have heard considerably about her, and I see in her writings not merely the rejection of the fantastic gothic novels but also of this anarchical ferment.  But her sister destroyed the letters that might have thrown light upon her reaction to this wild philosophy.  Alas.

But Miss Lucy Steele a harpy?
John

Dear Ashton,

In the Malmo opera and in the vast Festival Theatre in Stratford, Ontario, the Mr. Collins characters were the best loved things in these productions.  In Stratford, the actor who played Mr. Collins received enormous applause because his obsequious toadyism was faithful to Jane Austen's creation and his tall, slender figure lent itself to hilarious almost skipping about on the stage. I understand that the singer in Malmo earned similar applaus although the theatre there seems to be very small.

It occurs to me that the "Male Voices" would enjoy this new and interesting site, "Nordic Jane Austen".  Here is a link to Nordic Jane Austen.

The "Nordics" have had two meetings this year, Sweden and Malmo, where they had great fun. The site is attractive and I, for one, shall watch to see how it develops.

Charlotte Lucas will have to wait a bit, but she is, among her other admirable qualities, very patient:  I used up my sleeping time during the night in championing Mary Crawford because, in anticipation of this morning's eye surgery, I could not sleep. Now besides being over tired and still unable to sleep, I have a great armoured bandage covering my left eye. I have no other apology to offer. What I did, I did for the best.
Regards
John

Reference: 8/20/99

Dear Ashton,

Your news that Mary Crawford holds out that adultery is both charming and fashionable places me on a logical cleft stick. On the one hand, I could not choose such a woman, no matter how otherwise attractive, over one who finds adultery repulsive  on the other hand, I continue to find Mary Crawford wholly delightful. What am I to do?  You must see my difficulty. Am I trapped forever in a fatal contradiction?  Must I take Edmund's choice for my own and renounce all admiration for Mary Crawford?  Seen under the bright light of day, what is her real nature and what has she done and of what might she be capable that I must wrench her from my mind and heart. Does Ashton have insights into her character that are hidden to me?

Until this dilemma is resolved, all thought of singing the praise of Charlotte Lucas must remain halted in process. But how is it to be resolved, being as it is a knottier problem than any of the charades in Emma?  There can be only one resource: we must have recourse to Mary Crawford's words and actions, her thoughts if they can be revealed to us, and finally whatever her creator, Jane Austen, or, perhaps, Jane's persona, the narrator (if there is a difference) has to say:  we must appeal to the text.

In looking into the text, how are we to read it?  To begin, we must eschew the inventions of those current academics who have created a Mansfield Park that never existed, peopled with characters that never were, and developed by actions that never happened. Such academics may be guided by the desperate need to publish, the vicious subversion of the novels to further their private ends, or the frivolity of indulging vain egos. We must submit ourselves to the same sort of level-headed reasoning that we find in Mr. Knightly, Mr. and Mrs. Weston, Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Charlotte Lucas, Jane Bennet, Elinor and Henry Tilney, Mr. Allen, and Catherine's parents, Miss Dashwood, Miss Anne and her brother- law, Charles Musgrove, and others.  We must not delude ourselves with the comic reasoning of Mrs. Bennet or Lady Catherine, nor may take the approach of Charlotte Bronte who Despised the kind of novel that the Victorian gothic, the speciality of the Brontes nor may we use the reasoning of D.H. Lawrence who was maddened by and considered a personal insult the depiction of a world that he could never have but that to which his mother aimed him  nor that of Mark Twain whose views of Jane Austen's work was formed by his bigoted Anglophobia.  We must look to what Jane Austen has written and nothing else and we must understand what it is that she says and has her characters say. Because we are Janeites, we must take a rigorous approach in our delight in the novels and are not permitted the surprisingly sloppy approaches of many academics nor the personal axe-grinding of Bronte, Twain, and Lawrence. To do otherwise is to reject Jane Austen and may even be an insult from a mind capable of judgement. I do not like to see Jane either insulted or rejected.

After such a definition of terms, what can be said of the morals of Mary Crawford and of her loyalties?

We know that she was deeply in love with Edmund, who of the hundreds of potential life partners available to her was the most desirable man in every way except that his choice of profession must preclude her intended style of life: a house in town, a place in the country, and always the best society that England could afford. Would she have rejected Edmund if the London  house became impossible? We do not know.  What we do know is that even after she told Edmund that she would never dance with a clergyman, when he was ordained a clergyman in the Church of England, she still intended to marry him.  She did consider it likely that a man so ill as Tom could not survive and that Edmund must then inherit Mansfield Park (but not for many years). There is no evidence that she wished for Tom's death, but the death seemed likely. In such a case, the house in town was still possible, although they might have been obliged to bunk in with wealthy friends until Mansfield Park and the title passed to Edmund.  In the event, Tom recovered.

Would Mary Crawford have agreed to live in the parsonage away from the glittering candle-lit dinners she had expected to form an important part of her life. We do not know.  We do know that she recovered herself from the withering sermon with which Edmund denounced her suggestion that her brother and his adulterous sister could marry, live discreetly, and be accepted in some places in society and her angrily blaming Fanny for not accepting her brother. As Tom walked out on her, she called out to him, twice, "Mr. Bertram" with a little smile (Edmund did not see the smile but Jane Austen or her persona did--and told us about it.) You will, of course, recall that Mary Crawford surrendered all hopes of life with Edmund Bertram only on the marriage of Edmund and Fanny. Sounds like loyalty to me.  Mary had hoped to salvage what could be saved in her brother's scandalous situation.  She thought that Edmund would equally wish to salvage his sister's life, but Maria had trampled on the sanctity of marriage and therefore upon the religion to which Edmund had devoted his life, and in any case, she had openly advocated the marriage of a divorced person, an act absolutely forbidden by the Church of England. You will recall that more than one hundred years later, Edward VIII was forced to abdicate the throne of England because he planned to marry that divorced woman. I think it safe to say that Mary Crawford was loyal.

Did Mary Crawford think that adultery was fashionable?  She said that in some places in society Henry and Maria would never be accepted.  To be excluded from the most desirable parts of society makes one unfashionable. I conclude that Mary Crawford believed that adultery was unfashionable and thoroughly unacceptable.

Where do these arguments take me?  I believe they say that it is Jane Austen's intention that to say that it takes more than blind loyalty to her own family to be the best wife of a clergyman. (Well, she says much more than that, but we were talking loyalty, fashion, and charm.)
John

Dear John,

OK! OK! So, I find Mary attractive too, damn it! But we really shouldn't do that, you know. I don't know - maybe we have more in common than I thought there for a minute. In fact, I am not going to respond to your judgments of academics because I don't want to be a bad influence by reinforcing you.

There is a really neat passage in Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Woman in which Mary discusses why a woman often falls for the wrong guy. It applies equally well to a man, so I will dig that out if this discussion continues. (Mary Wollstonecraft is only good reading where she is off the subject.) The only thing I can think to say is that I probably like a worse fictional character than you do. (Anna Karenina won't be my guess because everyone likes her.) No, the character I am thinking of is Eustacia Vye of Return of the Native. Eustacia's mother-in-law calls Eustacia "lazy and discontent" - which is dead-on correct. And a neighbor stabs Eustacia in the arm for bewitching her young sons. The neighbor has it right too, even in believing that it is OK to stab a witch as long as you do it in a church. Yet, for some reason, I am attracted to that terrible Miss Vye. It is so weird - I am completely unyielding to a Charlotte Lucas or a Madame Bovary but I can forgive Eustacia (and Mary Crawford) a great deal.

I suspect that Julie Grassi and I are currently discussing a remotely related topic.

Dear Ray, et al,

Does 'Jerk' imply nastiness in the American vernacular?  If that be the case, then I will have to revise my Jane Austen Jerk List somewhat.  I would go one further than you, Ray, and award Mr Elliot the All-time Jerk Award over that of his titled relative, on the grounds of his treatment of his first wife.  I don't care if she was ignorant and giddy - she didn't deserve that nasty, sociopathic piece of work.  Sir Walter is just plain stupid.  Mrs Clay miscalculated that one - she may well have managed to become the wife of Sir Walter, but there is no way known that Sir Willian would have encumbered himself with an indigent widow who was prepared to drop her knickers on a maybe.  'Under his protection', indeed!  I don't like her chances.

Second on the revised list of jerkhood has to be Mr Willoughby, I believe, whose character is quite correctly assessed by Elinor as being motivated 'from beginning to end' by selfishness.

In actual fact, if jerkhood is to include malice and nastiness, Mr Collins becomes positively attractive.  He knew what he wanted, he knew what he had to offer, he had the merit of not wanting to marry money (didn't have to, in fact, as he knew Longbourne was his eventually, but that doesn't usually stop 'one great fortune looking out for another'), and he did, indeed, find one of the few sensible women in England who would have him, and then have the honesty and the commitment to meet her side of the bargain.  He's a twit, certainly, but in the short vignette we have of their married life, given admittedly in its early days, we notice that he has the good sense to be guided by his wife:  she chooses his sitting room, and she ensures his 'healthful exercise'.  I believe he is better off being influenced by Charlotte than bullied by Lady Catherine.

On another note, I believe I read somewhere recently that somebody once owned themselves as 'hating Emma Woodhouse'.  Surely I must have misread that?  Can't be true.  Especially if somebody acknowledges himself as the admirer of Darcy, that avowed manipulator of his friends? How, pray, to distinguish between Darcy's treatment of Bingley, and Emma's of Harriet?
Julie

Dear Folks,

I believe that Julie just challenged me with this statement from her posting:

"On another note, I believe I read somewhere recently that [Ashton] once owned [himself] as 'hating Emma Woodhouse'.  Surely I must have misread that?  Can't be true.  Especially if somebody acknowledges himself as the admirer of Darcy, that avowed manipulator of his friends? How, pray, to distinguish between Darcy's treatment of Bingley, and Emma's of Harriet?"

How to distinguish? I'll tell you how to distinguish - nothing could be easier - (I wish all of life was this simple.)

One of the best examples of foolishness on the internet is the puzzlement over the first paragraph of the novel:

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a fortune must be in want of a wife."

Well, yeah - there are grounds for puzzlement and for trying to decipher a subtext if that first paragraph is taken out of context of the second. Anything becomes a mystery or a cipher out of context. The message is quite simple when included with the second paragraph:

"However little the feelings or views of such man may be on his first entering a neighborhood, this truth is so fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters."

In other words, a "single man of good fortune" is a target - and, Darcy was well aware of that cultural truth. He could know this truth in more general terms because it had only been a year since Wickham's assault on his family's fortune. He will have left the neighborhood before Charlotte makes her attack; however, we readers are witnesses to that echo of our Lady's first two paragraphs.

Did Darcy have any basis for thinking that Bingley was being hoodwinked for the purpose of attaching his fortune? He most certainly does - don't believe it? - well then, reread this passage from Chapter XVIII (at the Netherfield Ball):

"...Mrs Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match [of Jane with Bingley]. His being such a charming young man, and so rich ... It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to consign her daughters to the care of their sister ... In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother's words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper; for to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the chief of it was overheard by Mr Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her mother only scolded her for being nonsensical." (Emphasis mine)

And on top of that, as Darcy explained in his letter to Elizabeth, Jane displayed no special regard for Bingley. Wait a minute - Darcy has no more credibility around here than I do - so, how can I make this point? I KNOW - I will quote the authorial voice of Jane Austen! This is from Chapter VI, and the passage begins with some observations of Elizabeth on Bingley and Jane.

"... It was generally evident whenever they met, that he did admire her; and to [Elizabeth] it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference which she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a way to be very much in love; but [Elizabeth] considered with pleasure that it was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane united with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and uniform cheerfulness of manner, which would guard her from the suspicions of the impertinent. ..."

So, Darcy would form the wrong first impression. Let me ask my flame-haired friend if she would seek to persuade a friend about to marry a woman who was after the money and who appeared to return no special regard? Oops! You don't need to answer that; I can guess based upon your opinion of Charlotte Lucas.

Of course, Emma Woodhouse has nothing like these justifications in her separation of Harriet from Mr Martin. If you don't agree, I will be glad to draw out that conclusion. (Incidentally, you misquoted me on Emma.)

Dear Folks,

What is more dangerous than a barbarian with a point of view--and a computer?

O.K., here I go. Ayn Rand (to pick an example I might get away with), peopled her books with characters that we are supposed to understand and like. She wants us to think that Howard Roark is a wonderful person. I don’t buy her point of view. In short, even though I came to some understanding of her characters, I am not willing, based entirely on her spin, to accept that they are wonderful people.  I am sure you can think of other examples of an author placing characters in what to the author seems like a good light, and yet you do not like the character.

I reserve the right to bring my own values to whatever I read, no matter that my values might not agree with the author’s. I AM willing to have my values changed, but not to the extent that I will accept any author’s values just because those values are put on a page.

Because I am a great fan of Jane Austen, I cut her a lot of slack when it comes to values, and as I have said before, I concede that she not only wanted us to like Darcy, she liked him herself. She painted him as a character whose behavior was perfectly acceptable (or more accurately perhaps, excusable).

I do not say, "when trying to understand a character, it is best not to refer to the novel". (Although, as a barbarian, I do kind of like the sound of it.) What I say is, I am not willing to check my values at the door when reading a novel no matter how much every author ever born might want me to. Perhaps "values" is not the right word. Maybe "prejudices" is more like it. What ever they are, they are mine and I take them wherever I go.

A brief recap of your position as I understand it. (Don’t you just hate it when someone tells you what your position is?):

• 1. Jane Austen liked Darcy.
• 2. Therefore if a reader understands Jane Austen, and reads P&P enough times, he will like Darcy too and when the reader comes to like Darcy, the reader has it "right".

A brief recap of my position:

• 1. Jane Austen gave a mighty effort towards drawing Darcy in a light that would make me think he was a swell guy.
• 2. She didn’t quite make it.
• 3. And you know perfectly well that Darcy would NOT invite me to Pemberly.

Dear Ashton et al,

What's so terrible about offering advice (especially when asked)?   Both Darcy and Emma are entitled to their opinions, and it is surely reasonable for them to share their opinions with their intimate friends.

True, Darcy and Emma were both wrong-headed in their belief that the matches they broke up were bad ones for their friends.  But their sin (if it is a sin) is in being wrong, not in being officious.  Darcy is shocked by the lack of manners in Jane's family, thinks Jane herself is a fortune hunter, and, when asked, offers advice based on what he thinks is true and meant to maximize Bingley's happiness.

Emma's advice is also solicited.  She sees that Robert Martin is not at all the kind of man to whom she would be attracted herself (he has not the manner ...), so she assumes he's wrong for her friend.  What 21 year old would think otherwise?

Of course, both Darcy's and Emma's advice is prejudiced by snootiness.   Both are snobs.

But why condemn Emma for separating Harriet from Mr. Martin?   What's she supposed to do, advise Harriet to marry a boor (which is how Emma sees RM)?  How dull social life (and Austen novels) would be if everyone minded only his own business.

Dear Sir,

As a matter of fact, no, I wouldn't consider myself justified in interfering in a friend's relationships, mainly because such things rarely work, and in the words of Mr Knightley 'you are more likely to do harm to yourself than good to them' by interfering.  Or as Jane Austen said in Persuasion, 'when two young people take it into their heads to marry, they are pretty sure to carry their point, no matter how imprudent the match, or how unneccessary they are likely to be to each other's future comfort.'  Elizabeth's unspoken tease of Darcy: '(She) longed to observe that Mr Bingley had been a most delightful friend   so easily guided that his worth was invaluable...' could be applied just as well to Emma's treatment of Harriet, though of course Harriet is in a much more vulnerable position.  Darcy himself acknowledges that his former interference in Mr Bingley's affairs was 'absurd and impertinent', and I agree with him.

If you think a little about it, you will find that Jane Austen does not reward her characters' interference in other people's lives:  consider Mrs Russell, who had to learn eventually that she had been wrong from start to finish   the younger Mr Ferrars, and where interference in his brother's doings got HIM, with that harpy of a wife.   General Tilney's interference in his son's affairs literally found Henry a wife, and forced him to propose to her (the author acknowledges that his affection for Catherine only arose from her feelings for Henry).  Emma's interference all round causes her to come an almighty cropper. Mrs Norris' interference causes Maria's ruin.

No, I think that Jane Austen, like me, follows Cain's heresy, 'and allows her friends to go to the devil in their own way,' with apologies to Mr Stevenson.
Julie

Dear Julie,

I would, and I have tried to interfere in that way twice in my life. As predicted in the quotations you cite, I failed in both cases and I lost two friendships in the bargain. That doesn't matter because I was right in both cases and my predictions were accurate as well. The problem is that a marriage, any marriage, involves more than the couple. I would feel a lot worse about myself if I had to watch the emotional turmoil of grandparents and young children and know that I had not at least tried to do the right thing. Failure in this case is not the worst thing in the world.

So, Jane Austen follows you does she? Then what do you think of Aunt Gardiner's advice to Elizabeth about Wickham? While you have Jane, I have enlisted Anne Elliot - remember she said this at the end of the novel:

" 'I have been thinking over the past, and trying impartially to judge of the right and wrong, I mean with regard to myself; and I believe that I was right, much as I suffered from it, that I was perfectly right in being guided by the friend that you will love better than you do now. To me she was in the place of a parent. Do not mistake me however. I am not saying that she did not err in her advice. ...' "

So, it is you and Jane against Anne and me. - ? - Perhaps after you and Jane have disentangled the regimental flag from our disembodied, comingled corpses; perhaps after you have completed your victory lap around this bulletin board waving your trophy; perhaps then you will do me a favor. Do you not think that the above quote might be Bingley's attitude as well? More importantly, do you not think that the passages quoted in my previous posting justify Darcy in his attempt to separate Bingley from Jane? Do you not think that that was Jane Austen's intent? Ask her.

To All,

Darcy does acknowledge that his interference in Bingley's affairs was "absurd and impertinent". But was it?  We haven't heard the conversation, but let's imagine it.

"I miss Netherfield," said Mr. Bingley, pacing up and down his cramped London quarters.  "I wonder if Miss Jane Bennet misses me."
"She certainly didn't seem like she was head over ears in love with you to me," replied Darcy. "I imagine she is taking your absence with some complacency."

This is absurd and impertinent interference?  Give me a break.  Also, what else is there to talk about, except one's mutual friends and acquaintances?   Some Austen fans disapprove of Marianne and Willoughby bad-mouthing Col. Brandon.  But why should they?  Are Austen's characters supposed to talk of nothing but the weather?

Of course the reason (which Julie hints at) that we don't express disapproval of our friends' lovers, is that sex has a powerful pull on our emotions, and can cloud our reason.  Our friends are likely to despise and shun us if we insult their lovers, however merited the insults.  But every human over the age of 13 has had a  "Do you think she likes me?" conversation, and, if Darcy answers "no", so what?

What are friends for, if not to interfere and meddle in each others' lives?  Other examples include Mrs. Gardiner advising Elizabeth to be careful of Wickham, Eleanor warning Marianne, and Edmund, Sir Thomas and Mary C badgering Fanny.  Perhaps Elizabeth should have warned Jane NOT to marry a weak-willed, easily persuaded, whishy-washy wimp like Bingley.  She's shirking her sisterly duties by failing to interfere.

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