The Voices of Men in Praise of Jane Austen
Messages on the
Bulletin Board - c. Oct. 1, 2000
Dear Ashton,
Now you say Cowper? - Well, that is certainly feasible given Jane Austen's great admiration for him but, can a poet be an important influence for the art of a novelist? - Perhaps.
I am not certain that I understand what you are saying with reference to the underlined question above. I was referring strictly to the subject matter of his poem. Are you referring to the difference between the structure, that is poem vs. novel?
Yes, The Princess of Cleves does sound interesting. Please be sure to let us know your findings.
I, also, am dissatisfied with most "experts" - I sense that their motive for writing is money, not truth or elucidation. Let me just say that I have learned to check it out for myself - as you are now doing.
With reference to Tirocinium I found this site at Austen.com with a comparison of it to Mansfield Park which mirrors my own thoughts. I did a quick check of the rest of the site for possible references to Jane's other works and found nothing. It makes me wonder what else is "out there" that we have not found.
Dear Linda,
What a wonderful link! - What a wonderful web site! Great, good goin', Linda! Let us hope that there will always be something else to discover "out there".
Yes, I was referring to structure and not subject matter. I assume that there must be and must have been many, many persons who feel and think like Jane Austen; otherwise, there would be no Jane Austen Society - no Janeites - no Linda or Ashton. But, I don't see how a poet can inspire the writing skills of a great novelist.
I have nearly finished The Princess of Cleves, and I am assembling my thoughts on it. I hope you will find my review of interest - the novel is very interesting.
Dear Folks,
Linda posted on the subject of Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778) on 8/17/00, 9/10/00, and 9/14/00. At first, our friend held out the hope to us of having found - maybe, at last - a Jane-Austen influence! Linda held out this hope and then snatched it away again. Phooie! Linda snatched it away, but not before I had started to read The Confessions of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, published posthumously in 1782. (Jane Austen was not quite seven years old in 1782.) This posting is my report.
First of all, I can say that I found it profoundly difficult to like Rousseau. - I know that I must learn to like Rousseau because, after all, this is the guy that wrote The Social Contract, but that task lies yet before me. Rousseau was born in Switzerland to the family of a skilled craftsman. He led a nomadic, erratic life with an intellect that displayed far more talent than character, and filled with far more accomplishment than would be expected from so little planning or wisdom.
I was reveling in the happy thought that this jerk could never have influenced our Jane Austen in any possible way. However, my happiness was demolished - may have been demolished - in the last part of his autobiography. This may be the interesting part of my note.
Rousseau's sexuality was eccentric, but spilled over into the criminally perverse at times. He went through one period in which he exposed himself to women in public. In Venice, he combined funds with a friend to buy a twelve-year old girl whom they intended to train as a concubine. He lived with a woman for twenty-five years (without benefit of clergy) and deposited each of their five children in a foundling hospital. I know - I know - I must learn to love him. It is just that my own paternal grandfather was a foundling - deposited in just such a way - and, so, it is hard for me to warm up to someone like ol' Jean-Jacques.
Rousseau must have been insufferable - an egotist and a hypocrite. He is famous for going on and on about the wonders of nature and the "noble savage"; but, clearly, he was an urban animal and a toady to the upper class. His popularity, in his own times, seems a result of a mid-eighteenth century radical chic. I also charge that Rousseau was well aware of this source of his popularity and played it to the hilt. He is thought of today as a liberal and an important progenitor of the French Revolution; perhaps, but that may have been as much an accident as anything else. For example, this is from Book 11; he is describing his novel Julie and, as always, extolling his own great sensitivity and cultivation.
"In the midst of so many prejudices and feigned passions, the real sentiments of nature are not to be distinguished from others, unless we well know to analyze the human heart. A very nice discrimination, not to be acquired except by the education of the world, is necessary to feel the finesses of the heart, if I dare use the expression, with which this work abounds. I do not hesitate to place the fourth part of it upon an equality with the Princess of Cleves; nor to assert that had these two works been read nowhere but in the provinces, their merit would never have been discovered. It must not, therefore, be considered as a matter of astonishment, that the greatest success of my work was at court. It abounds with lively but veiled touches of the pencil; which could not but give pleasure there, because the persons who frequent it are more accustomed than others to discover them. A distinction must, however, be made. The work is by no means proper for the species of men of wit who gave nothing but cunning, who possess no other kind of discernment than that which penetrates evil, and see nothing where good only is to be found. If, for instance, Julie had been published in a certain country which I have in my mind, I am convinced it would not have been read through by a single person, and the work would have been stifled in its birth."
This is hardly the pronouncement of a democrat.
But then, he makes these further remarks about his Julie, the heroine of his La Nouvelle Héloïse (1761).
"... The thing least kept in view, and which will ever distinguish it from every other work, is the simplicity of the subject and the continuation of the interest, which, confined to three persons, is kept up throughout six volumes, without episode, romantic adventure, or anything malicious either in the persons or actions. Diderot complimented [Samuel] Richardson on the prodigious variety of his portraits and the multiplicity of his persons. In fact, Richardson has the merit of having well characterized them all; but with respect to their number, he has that in common with the most insipid writers of novels, who attempt to make up for the sterility of their ideas by multiplying persons and adventures. It is easy to awaken the attention by incessantly presenting unheard of adventures and new faces, which pass before the imagination as the figures in a magic lanthorn do before the eye; but to keep up that attention to the same objects, and without the aid of the wonderful, is certainly more difficult; and if, everything else being equal, the simplicity of the subject adds to the beauty of the work, the novels of Richardson, superior in so many other respects, cannot in this be compared to mine. ...
That description can almost be applied to Jane Austen's novels can it not? The tone is all-wrong, but the descriptions apply to Jane Austen as well I think. Well I will soon pick-up The Social Contract and I look forward to that with pleasure. However, I will now have to read La Nouvelle Héloïse as well! Oh - if only I had thrown the Confessions away in disgust before finishing it. - Thanks a lot, Linda.
Dear Ash,
You said: "Well I will soon pick-up The Social Contract and I look forward to that with pleasure. However, I will now have to read La Nouvelle Héloïse as well! Oh - if only I had thrown the Confessions away in disgust before finishing it. - Thanks a lot, Linda."
You are mighty welcome! You ain't heard nothin' yet! Now I am really going to get into hot water!
But let me butter you up first by saying "Thank you" for the perceptive report on Rousseau's Confessions. We are in agreement there.
Now, here is where I get into hot water. His Confessions began with a description of his parents' love for each other. It sounded so JA. Thereafter I got so bogged down with his eccentric sexuality, as you say, that I was never able to finish it (sorry 'bout that). I am glad that you did because I believe you are quite right about Julie - it sure sounds like JA. I am looking forward to your report on La Nouvelle Héloïse and The Social Contract.
That said, please allow me a (slim) chance to redeem myself with the following report. My attention was directed the other day to William Cowper's Tirocinium - or, a Review of Schools.
I did finish reading it just now and I can definitely see a JA influence. She and Cowper seem to have very similar ideas about education - which is one of the subjects I have been highlighting in her books. They both prefer "home schooling", especially for the early childhood years. His ideas track with Jane's schooling experience - she was sent away twice to schools (if memory serves, she did not like it), and most of her "schooling" was done at home. They also track about the condition of the world, and I can see why Jane could write the following: "The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit or sense."
You have mentioned several times about defining the word "influences", and, in Dave's words, "it's what you (read JA) bring to it". I think that what we are discovering at present are some "pieces" that may possibly be put together to make a picture. I don't think that we will find one major "thing" that will define JA. What I hope to find is "some of the pieces" - because her life, as is ours, is made up of "these pieces" (many influences), and there may be several of these pieces that do indeed turn out to be major.
One question about this "influence" search, if you please. There are many biographies and criticisms of JA, and I am sure that most, if not all (including the 2 that I have read), have references to writings that have influenced her works. I am sure you have read many of these. The question is - are you dissatisfied with their findings and hope to find something else?
Dear Linda,
I don't have sufficient background to have any ideas of my own, so I have been following the hints I find in the biographies and criticisms to guide my search for Jane Austen. You may recall that it was the essay of C.S. Lewis that led me to investigate Samuel Johnson's writings. For the longest time, I just assumed that someone with the stature of Lewis must have it right - might even be passing down the conventional wisdom. As I have explained, I don't see much of an influence there and that surprised me - shocked me perhaps. All the biographies tell us that Jane Austen read Fanny Burney and Maria Edgeworth, so that was a hint that I followed and was disappointed there as well. (In retrospect, I now think that Burney and Edgeworth - especially Edgeworth - are more clearly implicated than Johnson.)
Then there was Laurence Sterne who I investigated on the basis of a rather flimsy hint from Jane Austen's own brother. Well, that was - and remains - an interesting possibility, but it will take someone with more courage and knowledge than myself to make the connection. Most people will be incredulous at a proposed link between Jane Austen and Sterne. Your work on Jane Austen's Passionate Passages might be a crucial part of any argument linking Sterne to our Lady.
And then I followed your hint that maybe Rousseau was the guy. Incidentally, I was just teasing; I am grateful for your suggestion. Now you say Cowper? - Well, that is certainly feasible given Jane Austen's great admiration for him; but, can a poet be an important influence for the art of a novelist? - Perhaps.
The short answer to your question is that I am growing deeply dissatisfied with the conventional wisdom on Jane Austen's influences. I feel as a blind man in the Valley of the One-Eyeds. I mean, I move in any direction that I hear of, but I keep stumbling and I am growing ever more skeptical.
I will never report on Rousseau's Social Contract here, because this is not the place for that. That was an influential political essay that I look forward to reading, but I suspect that it will contain nothing relevant to a search for Jane Austen.
If you will re-read the quotations from Rousseau in my posting, you will see that he mentions another novel in connection with his La Nouvelle Héloïse; that would be The Princess of Cleves. That sounded like something that my wife might have in her library, and sure enough, there it was. I am reading that at present and hoping for a Jane-Austen influence. It is too early to discuss the novel, but I can tell you some things about the novel that you might find interesting. The author is a woman, Madame de La Fayette (1634-1693). She lived about a century before Jane Austen and a generation or two before Rousseau. She married, had a few children, and then came to an explicit, amicable arrangement with her husband - She returned to Paris, alone, in order to take some lovers, establish an intellectual salon, and begin her publications. Everyone, including the editors of The Oxford Companion to English Literature, describes The Princess of Cleves pretty much the way that Rousseau did himself; they say it is a novel for which the interest rests upon a subtle psychology rather than wonderful, implausible events and characters. Everyone also seems to agree that it is literary landmark in that respect. Sounds like a possibility, right? What say you?
An interesting thing is that a synopsis of the plot seems to be about a married woman who loves someone else (who loves her in return), but who never consummates that love - period. That strikes me as odd because it means that the authoress would not grant her heroine the same happy arrangement she enjoyed herself. Well, perhaps my understanding will grow with the reading of the novel itself.
Dear Sir,
I've just discovered your Male-Voices site and am intrigued. I shall join the lists when I have a bit of time. I'm booked for all the dances for the next couple of weeks as I put the final touches on an article about the films of Mansfield Park which must be submitted by the 20th.
Unlike your hate/hate relationship with the Rozema film, mine is more of a love/hate relationship. More anon.
I must get back to my draft, but will add one final comment. Please don't overlook the fact that December 16 is also the anniversary of the birth of Sir Noël Coward (1899). The site's "birth" date would have been his 98th. Since he was someone who carried a marvelously ironic touch well into the 20th century, I really think you should add him to your closing comment. I rather like to think Jane Austen would have been pleased with such lyrics as "Don't put your daughter on the stage, Mrs. Worthington." Perhaps it should read, "Don't put your daughter on the stage, Sir Thomas Bertram."
Cordially,
William Phillips
Nagoya, Japan
Dear William,
You are most welcome here, especially since you promise to temper my review of Rozema's peculiar rendition of Mansfield Park. - That is probably needed here.
Will there be an online version of your article available? If so, please post the URL for us.
Dear Ashton,
You said, "To me, some of the more passionate passages involve Mary Crawford."
You are absolutely right. At present I am just skimming through the book and posting at random. Because there are so many passages, I have concluded that I need to change from skimming to a working outline. (It is hard to keep from posting the entire book!)
I have some ideas about rearranging some of the passages into groups. For example: following Edmund’s roller coaster feelings about Mary and her feelings for him. I don’t know how it will work out until I do it.
I read the
passage you mentioned about Mary, and I heartily recommend that it be
included in the "passionate passages".
Linda
Reference: Dave Payton 9/22/00
Dear Dave,
My amateur search for Jane Austen influences continues. For one thing, I was struggling with what I mean by "an influence", so I was impressed with your descriptions, examples, and similes - well done. The example of the influence of the Declaration of Independence on our own thinking and expressions is excellent, as is your suggestion that influences operate in the background and are barely noticeable. Your analogy for an influence, "It is something that remains quietly in the background and works like the trim tab on the rudder of a supertanker", is good as well. Except that, in Jane Austen's case, we must change that to, "the boundary-layer control on the wing of a mach-10 aircraft."
I would like to learn more of this, and I begin that discussion by saying that, in my mind, John Bunyan had zero influence on Jane Austen. A better way to say that, perhaps, is that Bunyan's trim tabs were not Jane Austen's. If my encyclopedia has it right, "antinomianism" was the doctrine that faith in Christ freed the believer from the obligations of the moral code set down in the Old Testament. Not "freed" in the sense of giving license, but in the sense that the moral code was not the road to salvation. You say, "The Pilgrim's Progress is as much a cautionary tale about antinomianism as it is about being saved." I do not know how to interpret this statement, but I am certain that The Pilgrim's Progress is, clearly and explicitly, a antinomianism document. I am also convinced that Jane Austen was not such an advocate, neither in her novels nor in her life.
There are many other aspects of The Pilgrim's Progress that perfectly disqualifies it as a possible Jane-Austen influence, in my mind. In the first part of the book, Christian deserts his family because they will not heed his warnings and follow him to Celestial City (to salvation). I found that profoundly disconcerting - disturbing. I am sure that this is reasonable and understandable to certain religious views; however, I hope that we will not explore religious explanations and philosophies. I contend that Jane Austen may have found this idea as jarring and as incomprehensible as I did myself and that is the material point.
I suspect that your characterization of Puritans is correct - how can a group survive in a wilderness and be otherwise. I began to suspect the orthodox view after reading Benjamin Franklin's autobiography - he was born and raised a Puritan before moving to Quaker country.
I also noticed the temptations of Fanny Price. The most interesting is that passage where she was being overwhelmed by the other young people, and was about to yield to their pressure to join the cast of the play. I might point out that Fanny was not rescued by a strength of character, she was rescued by the coincidental arrival of Sir Thomas back at Mansfield Park.
You quoted Saint James, "Show me your faith without works and I'll show you my faith through works." Does that mean that salvation leads to good works and not the other way around?
Dear Ashton,
Your characterization of Christian in Pilgrim's Progress as a man saved by his own strength of character is, I think, a little off the mark. He was constantly straying off the narrow path, listening to the wrong people (Mr. By-ends, for example) and being corrected by others more knowledgeable such as Evangelist. Remember, one of the first things he did was fall into the Slough of Despond after being warned to avoid it. Fanny actually shows more single-mindedness than does Christian and is more wary of taking the easy way. Neither of them are completely saved by their own efforts. But, to me, the fact remains that Mansfield Park is the story of Fanny's journey through a sin-sick world filled with temptation just as Christian's was.
I may be wrong regarding Bunyan's influence on Miss Austen's writing of Mansfield Park, or on her life in general. But what do I know. I'm a machinist, not a college instructor.
I do not know what edition of Pilgrim's Progress you read or who wrote the introduction. My copy is a reproduction of an edition printed in 1853 by Blackie and Son in Glasgow. The Introduction was written by George Offor, Esq. The full title printed is The Pilgrim's Progress in the Similitude of a Dream. The book is written as an allegory and the deserting of his family by Christian is allegorical. When a person becomes an adherent of a religion other than that practiced by his family he is, in effect, deserting the family. How many families have you known where the husband or wife is religious (it doesn't matter which religion) and the rest of the family isn't? These families may go on for many years in a relatively happy state, but there is a separation there. Sometimes the religious person is the object of ridicule by family members ("Aw, you know how Mom is with Confession and Mass every week."), hostility (" You're just wasting our money with your tithing"), or sometimes the result is such as that as Christina in the second part of Pilgrim's Progress when she decides to follow Christian to the Celestial City. I'm sure that Miss Austen, being the daughter and sister of Anglican priests, saw the three situations many times and was apparently unbothered by them. If she had been she would have said so.
During Bunyan's time, English Protestantism was debating Arminianism (i.e., free will regarding salvation) versus Calvinism (i.e., election). One of the charges the Arminians made against Calvinism was that Calvinists left themselves open to antinomianism because they believed themselves the elect chosen by God for salvation. If they had been chosen and since God never makes mistakes, they could behave in any manner they wanted without fear of losing their salvation. Bunyan repeatedly, in Pilgrim's Progress and his other writings, warns against antinomianism. He sends out the message that Christians are to conduct themselves in a certain manner and to try to the best of their ability to avoid sin. If they go through life embracing sin, then it's a pretty good bet that they aren't Christians.
As far as the quote from St. James is concerned, the actual quote is from Chapter 2, verse 18 of St. James' General Epistle. It reads as follows: "Yea, a man may say, Thou hast faith, and I have works; shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works." The best explanation I have for the verse is from Matthew Henry's Commentary on the Whole Bible first published about 1721/25: "Thus we see that our persons are justified before God by faith, but our faith is justified before men by works."
So there you go.
Dear Voices,
I have a culture question that comes from Pride and Prejudice. At the party in Meryton at the Philips' house, when Wickham tells Elizabeth the story of what happened betwen him and Darcy, they play a game of lottery tickets. Exactly what is that game and how is it played? I checked in What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew, but I couldn't find it (though admittedly I didn't look very hard). Thanks for the help!
P.S. Ashton - I agree, we should start the guys with P&P, but I don't know if we'll have time this semester. But thanks for the advice! And Thomas Hardy wrote Tess of the D'Urbervilles, right? I have that book at home but haven't gotten to read it yet.
Dear Laurie,
I seem to remember that Dave and Julie know a bit about such games so maybe they can respond to your question. I had assumed that it was a lottery in the modern sense - all the guests bought a ticket and the winner took home all the money - maybe not. Incidentally, Julie is now a university student too. Since you are now a student at a university, you probably know a lot and can explain to me why Australian athletes wear green and gold uniforms while their flag is red, white, and blue.
Yes, Thomas Hardy wrote Tess of the D'Urbervilles - gulp - my seventh favorite novel. By the way, as you read a Hardy novel, keep three Jane Austen novels at hand as an antidote - you will need them! Hardy kills off a lot of folks at the end of his novels. Like many Victorians who achieved "classic" status, his books are filled with social commentary. Those differ from Jane Austen's in many other ways as well. For example, just as Jane Austen choose a narrow focus, Hardy's is cosmic. He is both a geographer and an ecologist - you will appreciate that as you read the whole set of his works. I can't think of more graphic illustrations of the impact of industrialization than Hardy's novels - well, maybe Dickens's. You will hardly notice at first because Hardy is such a great storyteller. And, unlike Dickens's, Hardy's characters are well drawn and the plots are plausible - well, for the most part. Don't read his Jude, the Obscure, it is well written, but don't do that to yourself. In fact, that was Hardy's last novel, writing it finished him off and he lived another thirty years! Pick up Hardy's Far from the Madding Crowd when you get a chance; if you read your copy of Tess, you will become hooked.
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