The Voices of Men in Praise of Jane Austen
Messages on the Bulletin Board - c. Nov. 20, 2000

After an initial reading ofPride and Prejudice - the first Austen work I have read, I find it somewhat difficult to reconcile my reading with any criticism I read.

While there are undoubtedly some relatively significant issues raised about social hierarchy and structure, I found that reading the novel was more a matter of obligation than pleasure.  Is it enough for an author to be able to think (even if rather sentimentally), or should that author also be able to write properly?  Struggling through clause after turgid clause was enough to lose any mild interest I may have initially had in the affairs of Mr Darcy *et al*.

At least a BBC adaptation doesn't subject the viewer to such static prose.
Helen

Dear Helen,

We probably need more people like you around here. We are a bunch of Janeites who cannot imagine any possible criticism of Jane Austen - and, of Jane Austen's writing? AAAAGGGHHH!

You do understand that the novels were written two hundred years ago? I can't imagine anyone writing then that might have written in a way you seem to prefer. Do you have some one in mind? Wasn't it Hemmingway that perfected that one-comma-and-a-period style that is the fashion today?

I suspect that you have been lead astray because you say, "While there are undoubtedly some relatively significant issues raised about social hierarchy and structure ..." There are no such issues raised, that is merely the wishful thinking of some moderns who are desperate to believe that Jane Austen was concerned about some of their own favorite topics. Read her as an astute observer of human nature and you might change your mind.

Please continue to post.

Dear Voices

My purpose in borrowing the book from the library was to check Richardson's reference to The Princess of Cleves to help determine if Jane had possibly read it.

First let me quote the part, letter 42 of Volume 7, where The Princess of Cleves is mentioned:

'I fear, Henrietta,' said Mrs. Eggleton, 'that tho' you are a good Christian, your opinions in this point are a little heathenish.  You look upon Love as a blind irresistable Deity, whose darts fly at random, and admit neither defence nor cure.  Consider the matter, my dear, in a more reasonable light.  The Passions are intended for our servants, not our masters, and we have, within us, a power of controuling them, which it is the duty and the business of our lives to exert.  You will allow this readily in the case of any passion that poets and romance writers have not set off with their false colourings.  To instance in anger  Will my Henrietta own, that she thinks it probable, anger should ever transport her beyond the bounds of duty?

Then follows a discussion of "falling in love" before marriage vs. after marriage.

'I never saw him yet,' said I, with the least emotion.  'I have no aversion to him: I might esteem him: But what is that to the Love one is so solemnly to vow a husband?  And should I, after that vow, behold an object whom I could indeed have loved?'

'A Duke de Nemours!'  Said she, taking up the Princess of Cleves, that unluckily lay on my table - Ah my Henrietta, have I found you out!- That princess, my dear, was a silly woman.  Her story is written with dangerous elegance; but the whole foundation of her distresses was an idle one.  To fansy herself in Love with a mere stranger, because he appeared agreeable at a Ball, when she lived happily with a worthy husband, was mistaking mere Liking for Love, and combating all her Life after with a chimera of her own creating.  I do not tell you it is impossible for you to meet hereafter with persons whose wish is to make you happy: But will you suffer your eye to lead you into misery then, when an additional tie of duty forbids its wandering?  If so, I must suppose it would equally mislead you now.  Tell me, Henrietta, What think you of those girls, who blast all the hopes of their fond parents, by eloping with a well-drest captain, a spruce dancing-master, or a handsome player?'

She struck me dumb with shame.

'You see then, my dear, the filial duty, the duty of a reasonable and modest woman, were she even without parents or friends, forbids fancy to be her guide, as much as the sacred engagement of marriage forbids it to be her tormenter.'

I have quoted the above to possibly verify that Our Dear Jane did know about The Princess of Cleves.  What is so astonishing is that the discussion is so pertinent to her novels - Elizabeth's view of marriage vs. Charlotte's view.  Evidently it was a subject possibly discussed among the Ladies.  What really bowled me over was the idea that "fancy" alone ("falling in love") was not reason enough - some common sense was needed also.  Not only that, but she was not to be "tormented"; it was all right to be "happy" too.

I have only briefly looked at Grandison, and the first paragraph in the introduction by Jocelyn Harris caught my eye.

Sir Charles Grandison was the book that Richardson had no desire to write. Harassed by the disputes that had followed the publication of Clarissa in 1748 and exhausted from his subsequent efforts to make it less vulnerable by means of a whole additional volume of remedial revisions, he was in no mood to write again.  But his growing conviction corroborated by the acclaim for Tom Jones, that even the "restorations" had failed to convert a naughty world at last drove him to contemplate another full-scale work.

The underlined sentence caught my eye.  It appears Richardson had a "purpose".  Did Jane have a similar one - "to convert a naughty world" or whatever?  I have read somewhere that Jane had practically memorized this book - no easy task, it is very long.  I cannot but believe it to have influenced her greatly.  This small "sample" has given me the desire to read the entire book.

Richardson discusses ideas that we girls, as I was growing up, never talked about or even considered.  What a pity!  I will get back to you when I have read the book.  Meister, have you read this yet?   It seems as if you were threatening to do so.

Dear Linda,

As you say, The Princess of Cleves is alluded to in Samuel Richardson's The History of Sir Charles Grandison. That is significant to me because Jane Austen was enthralled with that novel, and that fits with my contention that Madame de La Fayette might have been a Jane-Austen influence. I want to discuss Grandison with you because I begin to suspect that Samuel Richardson was definitely a Jane-Austen influence - perhaps the best and clearest influence I have encountered. At first this seems a natural conclusion, based upon only a cursory reading of the biographies. A controversy may arise because there are many people in the world, today, who simply do not want that to be true. - they do not want Jane Austen to have liked Samuel Richardson. I will have much more to say on that later in this posting.

First of all, I should say that Grandison is very, very long. The library copy I have is in three books, about 400 pages each, and the print is rather small. You have pointed to the allusion to Cleves in letter 42 of Volume 7. That particular letter must be interesting in a number of ways to Jane Austen fanatics; I will get to that in a subsequent posting. I want merely to provide some background here.

The adolescent Jane Austen liked Richardson and was enthralled by Grandison in particular. We have that from many sources including our Lady's nephew, James Edward Austen-Leigh:

"... [Jane Austen's] knowledge of Richardson's works was such as no one is likely again to acquire, now that the multitude and the merits of our light literature have called off the attention of readers from that great master. Every circumstance narrated in Sir Charles Grandison, all that was said or done in the cedar parlour, was familiar to her; and the wedding days of Lady L. and Lady G. were as well remembered as if they had been living friends. ..."

[Memoir, Chapter V]

And, we have confirmation from her favorite brother, Henry Austen, who had this to say in the biographical notice he wrote to announce her death and her authorship.

"... It is difficult to say at what age [my sister] was not intimately acquainted with the merits and defects of the best essays and novels in the English language. Richardson's power of creating, and preserving the consistency of his characters, as particularly exemplified in Sir Charles Grandison, gratified the natural discrimination of her mind, whilst her taste secured her from the errors of his prolix style and tedious narrative. ..."

Notice that Henry was less generous to Richardson than was Edward. In this matter, perhaps, the nephew was closer to Jane Austen's position than the brother. I say that because Jane Austen was far more circumspect about a "prolix" (long-winded) style; for example, I will quote from her letter to Edward's sister, Anna (Wednesday 10--Thursday 18, 1814.) She was reading and commenting on Anna's manuscript Which is the Heroine?. Near the end, our Lady says,

"... Your Aunt C. does not like desultory novels, & is rather fearful yours will be too much so, ... It will not be so great an objection to me, if it does. I allow more latitude than She does--and think Nature and Spirit cover many sins of a wandering story--and People in general do not care so much about it--for your comfort. ..."

Lord David Cecil cannot comprehend Jane Austen's fascination with Grandison, which he finds "now and again absurd and at all times long-winded." But, then he quickly adds this.

"...I suspect that [I am] wrong. Certainly we have distinguished opinion against us; George Eliot enjoyed Sir Charles Grandison almost as much as Jane Austen did. No doubt both authoresses were impressed by Richardson's strange power to compel the reader to believe in his fictional world and even more by his extraordinary insight into the workings of the female heart. ..."

Well - yeah, that would impress me. That from his forward to Jane Austen's 'Sir Charles Grandison'. That little book is a description of a play that Jane Austen wrote, most likely as a family project and nothing more. It was edited and introduced by Brian Southam who says this in the introduction:

"... Few turn to Grandison with its chilling reputation for long-windedness and tedium, and its un-stomachably perfect hero."

"un-stomachably"!? Whoa! - why do I never come up with words like that? I paused here to remind you of how un-stomachably many modern readers find Fanny Price or Edmund Bertram. Southam continues in this way.

"Of course, there are other views. Blake came to know [Grandison] intimately ... he declared to a friend, 'Richardson has won my heart.' Hazlitt regarded it, along with Don Quixote as the great European novel. George Eliot was an intolerant admirer: 'Like Sir Charles Grandison? I should be sorry to be the heathen that did not like that book.' ..."

Let me get this straight - check me on this - there is Jane Austen, Blake, and George Eliot on the one side and twentieth-century critics on the other. Gosh, it isn't always easy to know what to do - Austen-Blake-Eliot or heathens? - Austen-Blake-Eliot or heathens? O-o-h!, I give up!

To All,

I would like to ask how should I start in writing a term paper on the topic of "family relationship in Persuasion by Jane Austen"?
Thanks a lot.

Dear Winnie,

Another brilliant move by Jane Austen - Anne Elliot is the middle child! The relationship of the three Elliot sisters, oldest - middle - youngest, follows the classic pattern. Check me on that. Also, check the way that Anne is treated as she moves ever farther outside the family. Finally, notice that Sir Walter is obsessed with family, but in a horrible, superficial way. In fact, that development begins with our first encounter with that character.

A fun thing to do might be to quote a really, truly exaggerated view of this matter. See the Darwin comments. (He writes a great deal about inherited characteristics in the families invented by Jane Austen; but, you will have to go to the original source for that because I omitted that part from my excerpts.)

Dear Linda,

Let me know which gothic novel you eventually pick.  Maybe we could do a kind of "read and discuss."  I'm interested now too! 

Dear Folks,

This is weird - so? - what do you expect from me?

I recently posted a graphical analysis of Jane Austen's letter writing in order make apparent any gaps in the letters. That might be useful in uncovering deep, dark secrets that are none of our business. There are a lot of problems with that analysis, but that doesn't matter because I am only screwing around - no one need take any of this seriously.

Given that attitude, I have just this moment completed the same sort of analysis for the novels. The only interesting thing is that there seem to be gaps that correspond to the gaps in the letters. I hereby invoke the Oliver-Stone Principle that a great truth can be established by two shaky analyses, provided only that they are not contradictory. (I don't know, I guess the principle is kind of like triangulation or something.) I mean, I definitely have uncovered, with these analyses, periods of time when the CIA had incarcerated Jane Austen! Men are pigs!

My source is Deirdre Le Faye's, The British Library Writer's Lives: Jane Austen, Oxford University Press, (ISBN 0-19-521654-7). Ms Le Faye included a chronology in which she tried to indicate those periods that Jane Austen devoted to each composition. That was my exclusive source. I constructed a spreadsheet with one column for each of seven compositions: the six well-known novels and the "minor works" (Lady Susan, The Watsons, and Sanditon). I started by placing a one in each row if our Lady worked on a particular manuscript that month. I then apportioned the effort by dividing each column by the total number of months spent on the corresponding manuscript. - Got that? I then calculated a cumulative effort by accumulating the sum of all seven columns for each month. This is the picture of that result.

Once again, periods of inactivity - "gaps" - are indicated by flat portions in this graph. That there are dramatic gaps is quite clear. But, do these gaps correspond to the gaps I earlier noted in the letter writing? Here is a graph with both cumulative curves.

novels _____ letters _____

Notice that I had to convert to percentage in order to put both curves on the same scale. Also, I had to recalculate the "novel" graph to start from 1796 because that is the date of the first letter. I did some other things that I can explain to any interested person. - ? - (For example, I had to interpret Ms Le Faye's curious convention of placing "winter" at the end of the year - our American astronomers suspect that fully 12 of the 13 weeks of winter occur in the beginning of the year.)

Now for the fun part - the interpretations! Blast! I must leave that to you because I have just been called away to Florida.

I have only just enough time to tell you that I know what you are thinking - you are thinking, "someone should take that guy's spreadsheet away from him." But, I don't care about that; I am worried about Deirdre Le Faye because Ms. Le Faye supplied the two sets of data that I used to compose these graphs. I kind of have a hunch that Deirdre would not be proud of me; however, Oliver should be.

Dear Ashton,

I may be the only one in the universe to take this information seriously, but I do find that very interesting. I thought I was the only nut, er..analyst, who did that kind of stuff. God, that's good, even it it never means a thing!

Have you heard this one yet?  Question:  How many Floridians does it take to change a light bulb?  Answer:  I don't know.  They are still counting.

Sorry, that is the best I can do.  Got to go pack now.
Regards,
Linda

Dear Linda & Ashton,

It seems clear that I didn't quite make my point with my earlier posting about Northanger Abbey.  While I think NA is a parody, what I was trying to show was how Jane Austen creates, almost point-for-point, the sort of adventure a gothic heroine would have, but without the murders, ghosts, or machiavellian plots of your average gothic novel.  In other words, Austen beats the gothic authors at their own game.

Of course Jane lays the rules all out for us as the novel progresses. (Exotic localles, the questionable hero, insinuating villains, mysteries, secrets, kidnappings, dastardly plots, hidden agendas.)  And we laugh because we never see an Alp, or a phantom walking the halls, and there are no murderers, and Catherine's protector turns out to be a well-meaning but silly woman rather than the mad last scion of an ancient house her mother's family has been in a blood feud with since the Norman invasion.

But what doest happen?  Catherine is taken to an exotic locale where she meets an "alarming" hero and a couple of very smarmy villains.  While in Bath, she is a victim of numerous plots to separate her from the hero, including a kidnapping by the villain Johne Thorpe.  She is then put under the protection of a second villain, General Tilney, who whisks her away to a remote location far from friends and family.  Catherin uncovers a terrible family secret  reveals the central mystery of the novel (why General Tilney is so solicitous of her good opinion and wants to marry his son to her) and uncovers all the plots against her.  She is then turned out, miserable and friendless, to make her way home as best she can.  Of course it all ends in triumph as does any good gothic novel.  The hero really does love her, at least some of the villains are punished and the innocent victims of others' shady dealings recover their reputations.

Now for the unpleasant part.  Northanger Abbey is the most tightly and intricately plotted novel Jane Austen ever wrote.  The humor works on every possible level...high and low burlesque, satire, parody, "in jokes" about Bath, novels in general, and gothic novels in particular  first love, "country hicks," tourists, the lemming mindset, and the foibles and vanities of men and women alike.  I agree that there are even more levels to NA, but I have to ask "Isn't that enough??!!"  Northanger Abbey is brilliant with a capital B.  Few people can write humor successfully and only a handful, of which Jane Austen is the foremost, can write humorously about serious subjects. I think she would have been proud to hear her novels described as comic masterpieces.
Cheryl

Dear Cheryl,

I think you made the point quite well the first time. I don't remember anyone reading your original posting and not thinking it brilliant. Although, you surpassed yourself this time - this is a classic posting. Thank you.

Now for the unpleasant part. I can't think of anything easier to write than comedy. Think about all that fluff from Wilde, G.B. Shaw etc. - Very entertaining, eminently forgettable. It is harder to be serious because, for that, you must display taste, heart, and mind. So, you think of Persuasion, Mansfield Park, and Pride and Prejudice as comic masterpieces do you? I had thought I saw something more - I am profoundly disappointed - is that all there is? - just fluff?

Dear Ashton,

I think we part ways here on the fundamental nature of humor.  I'm afraid that at this point I can only say that the majority of all writing is fluff and eminently forgettable, so it does no good to single out comic writing.  Anyone can write one of those whiny, "semi-autobiographical" novels that are choking the bookstores these days.  Many people could churn out a Hitch Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy or something like it.  But I'm absolutely certain you're not going to find too many people who could write Pride and Prejudice or A Good Man Is Hard To Find or The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Age 13&3/4. And I dare you to find anyone who would think any of these works are "forgettable."

Just when things are getting interesting ... I will be computerless probably until the end of next week.  After the latest mess when our hard drive was reformatted by some software we were trying to install we've decided to hand the darn thing over to the professionals to fix and get some hardware upgrades at the same time. I hope everyone has a happy Thanksgiving
Cheryl

Dear Cheryl,

I mean that even teenagers can be creative and talented with humor. They show their inexperience only when trying to be serious. I was only in my early teens when I discovered I could make my classmates - and my mother - laugh at my will. (I also discovered that a mother could not effectively scold a son while she was giggling.) To be funny, one need only be intelligent and alert; to be serious, one also must be rigorous, fair, patient, and experienced.

If you had joined Linda and I - as you had promised - in our passionate-passages project, you would have discovered that Jane Austen is humorous in only about 5% of her text. The other 95% is deadly serious. The problem is that the 5% is so exquisitely well done. - The discovery is that the 95% is done even better. Orthodox persons like yourself will try to deny that, and will become serious students of Jane Austen only after you overcome your prejudice and your pride sufficiently to go through that exercise yourselves.

Do you know what you get if you subtract the serious parts of Pride and Prejudice? - You get Jane Austen's Juvenilia.

Don't get me wrong, I love Wilde, G.B. Shaw, Gilbert and Sullivan, Monte Python, etc. - and the Juvenilia - as well as the next person - perhaps far better than most. It is just that I am always aware of when I am eating ice cream and don't confuse that experience with reading the serious parts of Jane Austen's novels.

Dear Ash and everyone,

Disturbing Developments at Chawton

News has reached me from the JASUK via JASA and JASM that in Chawton village, two things are possible that will threaten the views that JA would have seen from the bedrooms of Chawton Cottage. The Greyfriars Inn is to extend its building and carpark, and there is planned a group of three terrace houses with car parking directly opposite Chawton Cottage and the oak tree JA is said to have planted. These planned developments are on the opposite side of the street from the Cottage.

I understand that we cannot object to the development on the grounds of traffic--and so on--as JA enthusiasts are responsible for a good deal of the traffic in the village of Chawton. We can object, I have been told, on the grounds that the development is detrimental to the streetscape.

Objections cannot be faxed or emailed, but have to be sent by snail-mail to the Planning Department, as detailed below. JASUK, JASA and JASM are objecting officially, but ask that everyone we can reach send a letter of objection.

As I understand it, it was pressure from North American objectors in particular that was a key element in the saving of the Battlefield of Tewkesbury, far to the north of Chawton, from being built over, last year.

Please send a letter of objection, saying something like-- I object to developments of the Greyfriars Inn and the building of terrace houses opposite Chawton Cottage, on the ground that development would be detrimental to the streetscape.

The objection process closes on 30NOV00, so please send your letter by first-class airmail. Please quote the reference F.25056/004/FUL

       

All the best, and thanks in advance to objectors,
Geoff Chapman.

Dear Linda,

I find your argument intriguing, but having never studied gothic novels, I must ask you what criteria you use to determine what is considered "horror" and what is not.  The only definition I am familiar with is the modern one of blood and guts.  Can you help me?  Thank you!

Dear Laurie,

Good question!  I was basing my idea of "gothic" on hearsay - what I had read about it.  It did not sound like my cup of tea, I prefer Jane Austen.  Her "parody" was as close as I wanted to come to it.

When you mentioned the modern day "blood and guts" I realized that "horror" itself has changed over the years - I am thinking "Texas Chain Saw Murders" (or whatever the name of it was). Basing my knowledge on what JA wrote in NA as a parody of "gothic", tells me theirs was not as bad as ours today.  Well, wait a minute, Catherine was thinking that the General was a murderer. I just do not know how descriptive they were in their novels.  Your question has gotten my curiosity up - I wonder just how "bad" they were.  I will have to read at least one to find out what all the furor was about.  I doubt very seriously if I will enjoy it, but it will aid in understanding the times of JA, especially in understanding her "purpose" for writing vs. their purpose.  I would like to think her purpose was more noble.

Thanks for your thought provoking question.  Now I have something else to put on my "to read" list.  It keeps getting longer and longer.
Linda

Dear Ashton,

Thank you for your kind words, but I must excuse myself for getting lazy.  In referring to your having read the "critical" books, I should have written "that he has read some of them".  Sorry about that!  The thought was in my head, but the fingers were unwilling.

You are quite right about Cheryl's posts on the parody in NA.  Those are examples of what I am referring to as "the beautiful wrapping paper"!  Which brings me to the Meister's reference to the term "parody" (a humorous or satirical imitation of a serious piece of literature or writing) being wrongly applied to NA.  Where the definition says "imitation" I assume they mean the entire book (NA) as imitating the "serious piece of literature".  I prefer the Meister's term "explicit ridicule" which refers IMO to particular passages only.  In my pea brain if NA were a "parody" or "imitation" of some other book, it would have similar characters, events, settings, etc. to the other book.  But then, that is just my understanding, yours may be different - correct me if I am wrong.

I want to go beyond the "wrapping paper".  Now, where did I put that shovel - I have some deep digging to do.
Linda

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