The Voices of Men in Praise of Jane Austen
Messages on the
Bulletin Board - c. Jan. 30, 2000
Dear David,
Baseball is where it's at? What? Foul balls?
The world knows that ice hockey is the game of games. Even the New Zealand "All Blacks" wish they could play rugby on ice skates. Both polo and field hockey are played in India because there is a dearth of hard water: they play polo on horseback to feel a little of the speed and danger of ice hockey and they play field hockey to imagine themselves speeding down the hockey rink. For heaven's sake, if you were in Holland today, you would see thousands of young Dutchmen learning to skate so that they might have a chance at the honour, respect, and fame of being a member of a National Hockey League team.
Anielka: The Meister and Mr Payton are trying to foist insupportable theories upon us. Please deal with them: I am up to my neck in double sprung shafts, light, medium, and heavy-weight harnesses, wheelwrights, cartwrights, coaches, carriages, carts, gigs, and a thousand other things. Seeing the entire English carriage scene is a hard business.
Thanks
John
I don't have any geese, unfortunately, but there are some VERY
worried-looking chooks out in the paddock! I've always wanted a quill pen, and
rooster feathers are probably as good a way to start as any.
Julie
From the Meister: You have a paddock? Cool! What is a chook?
Dear Ashton,
Chook is Anzac for chicken, earliest in print in 1880 (M-W)
Young chooks, I believe, are called sheilas--but I am not
certain.
John
Dear John,
Quite right, though 'sheila' is a tad archaic these days. My original
post was actually a little longer, but the Meister edited it: too ghastly
for tender sensibilities, perhaps?
Julie
Dear Julie,
Here in the inland empire they have a novel way of using chickens for pest control. You buy a couple dozen chicks in the spring and put them in your garden to eat the earwigs, slugs, and tomato hornworms (keeping the feathers clipped, of course.) As the summer goes along the coyotes kill off the chickens, and next spring you start over. It's quite a successful method here, I understand, recomended by all the gardening stores who carry chicks just for that purpose. The presence of the coyotes and chicken blood helps repel deer too. The problem is that I'm such a weenie I can't bring myself to do it, even though I hate, hate, hate chickens.
Dear "Ashton",
Just in case no one has figured it out, the Mrs. P. who has recently been posting on the bulletin board is my Mrs. P. who is usually referred to around here as "Jonesy."
As you can imagine, since she has been putting before the Janites questions concerning Emma, I've been getting the questioning in spades. I do the best I can, but since I'm not the best thinker in the world I'm often at a loss.
Anyway, this Emma questioning reminded me of a piece written by Camille Paglia for Salon. It's just a short piece of a longer column and concerns the movie starring Gwyneth Paltrow: Salon Technology | Elizabeth Dole is not man enough to be president. One gets the idea that Ms Paglia would have rather had a young Ava Gardner play Emma than Miss Paltrow. I'll admit that Miss Paltrow is sometimes a goofy looking young woman, but she really doesn't deserve the knife that Ms Paglia sends home.
My real question is this. I suddenly realized while reading my copy of the Penguin edition of P&P that the forward by Tony Tanner basically tells the whole damn story. What's that all about? It seems to presume that the reader is familier with, or has read, the book previously and that the only reason that the reader has purchased this edition of P&P is to read the forward by Tony Tanner. The presumption is overwhelming! This type of forward would be much better as an afterward, but, eggheads being what they sometimes are, seem to forget that being in the center ring doesn't mean that they're the main attraction.
I've noticed that the latest Penguin edition of JA's works feature forwards by novelists. I haven't read them, but I shudder at the thought. There is little that is as boring to me as one novelist writing about another novelists' work. The only exception I can think of is Mary Mc Carthy's comments about Lillian Hellman, and she was sued for stating a fact.
I'm glad for you that the Ram's won the Sooperbowl, but, frankly, I am somewhat disappointed that you're a football fan. Everyone knows that baseball's where it's at.
Yours,
Dave Payton
Dear Ashton and Folks,
Last time I had a theory I posted the clues to see if anyone could come up with the derivation of the character I believed Darcy was based on. Of course, characteristic of a board populated by such great thinkers some very clever and thought provoking answers came from all quarters.
This time I am going to do it in reverse. Here's the answer. Anyone care to suggest some reasons why? I am hoping that this way you will come up with better reasoning than I already have!
Enjoy!
Dear Anielka,
Last night there were four Marys,
Tonight, there'll be but three -
Mary
Beton, Mary Seton,
Mary Carmichael and me.
They'll tie a kerchief around
my eyes,
So I won't see the deed,
Then they'll tell my father and
mother,
I'm across the sea.
As to your riddle: I haven't a clue!
Julie
Dear Anielka,
I will not have even a second to spare for your puzzle because I have been working assiduously on the astounding discovery that Jane had been paid by the carriage makers to promote their products. Did you notice that every novel places carriages, gigs, and so forth, into the very forefront of the action? John Thorpe the cheerful dealer in gigs and horses. Catherine M. always just in or just out of carriages and gigs. Jane demonstrating the evil consequences befalling a young woman who rides a horse in the rain. The importance in all the novels of the central place of carriages and gigs. A staggering, sudden enlightenment.
I think that your pairings are entirely reasonable but I simply do not have
time to marshal the proofs required to satisfy the Doubting Thomasinas of this
world.
John
Dear Sir,
First and foremost, Marianne Dashwood was created in order to support Jane Austen's creed, not in spite of it: Marianne's behaviour is exactly of the type that Jane Austen deplored, and Elinor's is the author's own voice, when she points out how Marianne, by encouraging her grief, and wilfully disregarding the feelings of all around her (indeed, abusing them as much as she possibly could), was very much the cause of her own misery, and also of the misery of those she loved best.
Anne Elliot is a very different being, indeed. Her feelings are under control; she does not, after the dissolution of her first engagement to Captain Wentworth, vent her feelings on all around her: her long-term problems are rather those of loneliness and lack of opportunity: Mrs Russell comments on this, as does the author.
In every one of Jane Austen's novels, the principle that one should control one's feelings out of consideration for others, and ultimately for one's own good, is explicitly stated. One does not wallow in grief: it does no good, distresses others, and does oneself harm, in the long run.
The very first letter extant that Jane Austen wrote to Fanny Knight after the death of the latter's mother, while full of sympathy for the young woman, also points out that Fanny has a duty to exert herself for her father's sake. On the same topic, in a letter to Cassandra, she wonders whether Edward is 'resigned': before the body is even in the ground, in fact. At that time she and her mother had the care of two of Mrs Knight's sons, and Jane Austen is pleased to report that they grieved as was proper, but also that they were able to take pleasure in games and amusements: that they were not completely overcome.
On the subject of Mr Austen-Leigh's death Jane Austen writes, after expressing her unhappiness at the will: 'I am the only one of the legatees to have been so silly, but a weak body must excuse weak nerves...........it has been the appointment of God, however secondary causes must have operated.' (I have actually combined quotes from two letters on the same subject here: in Austen-Leigh's 'Memoir', he changes 'legatees' to 'party').
In short, (or in long!) I think Jane Austen's views on the management of
grief and disappointment to have been entirely consistent throughout her life,
and throughout her works. She does not deny the existence of grief, but sees it
as a creature to be battled with and mastered, for the sake of the sufferer, and
all around. It is a creed I happen to believe in myself: at first,
one struggles through day after dreary day slowly, the struggle
becomes easier, and one finds oneself wanting to do what one has had to force
oneself to do, a few weeks earlier. In the case of death, I believe
wallowing in misery to be an insult to the dead: there is a duty to enjoy the
life we have, and they have been denied. I agree with
Cassandra.
Julie
Dear Julie,
For some reason I had always supposed that Elinor was similar to Cassandra and Marianne was more like Jane. I see what you mean about Jane hating Marianne's self-indulgent, olive-refusing behaviour. I wonder if it wasn't a sort of exhibition of the traits that she disliked about herself when held up to the light of the character of (remarkably stoic!!) Cassandra? Jane adored her sister sufficiently to be magnanimous in her portrayals and it is from an insight of her own faults that I think she was sometimes able to create the illusion of a real, three-dimensional person in otherwise comic or difficult characters. Just thinking aloud here. What do you think?
Dear Julie,
An Elinor Dashwood could never have created a Marianne, she couldn't even understand her. Nor could an Elinor Dashwood have created an Elizabeth Bennet or an Anne Elliot. It is that simple. How could such a woman be expected to "speak with Jane Austen's voice"?
.....seen. Just as well he's gorgeous. Shame to inflict football on one so young, but I suppose it's impossible to get you to see reason. I don't understand about Rams, though: are you planning for your grandson to grow up to be a sheep farmer?
Elinor understands Marianne perfectly, which makes Marianne decidedly uncomfortable, because Elinor understands without approving, and isn't afraid to say so. Good for her, I say. Elinor also espouses values and standards of conduct that Jane Austen values, and recommends to others in her private correspondence: consider, for instance, her disapproval (while nevertheless loving the child) of her niece Anna's behaviour at times. What Jane Austen is stating, in this instance, is the value of self-control and self-mastery of one's emotions in times of grief and disappointment, for the sake of the individual's long-term well-being, and for the sakes of those around. I don't see that as inconsistent with the characters of any of her heroines: Elizabeth took enormous pains, for instance, to hide her turmoil in the weeks leading up to her engagement to Darcy, and values also her sister's exertions during the period of Bingley's supposed defection.
I will turn the question back upon itself a little: can you imagine a
woman of Elizabeth's intelligence and pride making an exhibition of herself as
did Marianne Dashwood? I think not.
Julie
Dear Julie,
I don't disagree with everything you say. Your comments about self-control, and the value placed in same by Jane Austen and some of her characters are correct; however, you may be off the point with your interpretations. Self-control of what? Collins shows a great deal of self-control, but he may not be controlling the same sort of thing as are Elizabeth Bennet or Anne Elliot. Do you agree?
My answer to your question is an emphatic yes - yes, Elizabeth Bennet was capable of everything that Marianne Dashwood experienced. I include a near-fatal depression. I think the same of Jane Austen. But, let us not argue the point; we have our opinions and too little else to go on. Let us turn instead to the example of Jane Bennet because there is a great deal of text to refer to in that case. Jane Bennet is the perfect example of what I have been trying to say (albeit, not very clearly). Here is the character who makes many fine, stoic statements about how she will survive her disappointment and how everything will soon return to normal while all the time sinking further into depression. Recall Elizabeth's growing concern about her sister's state. Recall also, Elizabeth's teasing of Jane over Jane's feigned indifference upon Bingley's return to Netherfield for a shooting party. I think I may have you here, but I think we are not that far apart to begin with.
Actually, that is an old photo. Right now Anthony wears a Prince Valiant cut. One's first impression is that his hair is thick, black, and straight. That is the impression until you see the back with the ringlets of curls. I want him to be a goatherd because of my growing respect for that band of outlaws.
Dear Both,
Heather: Yikes! If having the eyes of a murderer is enough to convict one, I had better start wearing a burkha, pronto! Maybe the muslims have it right, after all.
Mrs. P: Who cares? Mr Knightley is presented to us as a
mature adult male, with all that the term does, or does not, include. I
doubt whether Jane Austen considered his private life, outside of the scope of
the novel, to have been any of her business, but perhaps the adult males amongst
us (especially the mathematicians?) could work out the probabilities for
us.
Julie
Dear Julie Grassi,
My idea of a mature well rounded man includes his sexuality. I have no problems with Captain Wentworth, seeing him as living and playing hard, and occassionally paying for diversions with his shipmates in various ports of call. He loses no respectability and I believe he will be true to Anne. J.A. must have been aware of the discrepancy of opinion on how men and women are viewed. Consider this, think of how many words one can think of for a loose woman and try that with men. See my point? Am I to believe he has been waiting for his chosen to grow up so Ashton wouldn't call him a pedophile as he does Wickham? And sorry kid but J.A. does care and I for one would like to know how she meant the character to be. At 38, is Emma supposed to be the only woman of his experience?
Dear Mrs P,
I don't know whether to be flattered by your assumption of my youth, or offended by your finding my comments puerile. Be that as it may, I'm actually forty-seven: the only 'kids' around here are out in the paddock, waiting for their bottles.
Jane Austen certainly portrays Mr Knightley as a grown man, as she does Captain Wentworth, but in neither case does she make any implicit or explicit comment on their sexual experience. The men about whom she does make such comment are invariably not drawn favourably: Admiral Crawford, 'a man of vicious conduct' Mr Elliot, whose heart is 'cold and black!' Wickham, 'one of the most worthless young men in Great Britain' Willoughby, whose behaviour is motivated by selfishness. Northanger Abbey and Emma are the only two novels that do not contain mention of a male character behaving with sexual impropriety, though of course Harriet Smith's father receives a nod.
As the daughter of a clergyman, unless she were either a deaf mute or kept in a garret, it would have been impossible for Jane Austen not to have been well aware of sexual activity and illegitimacy: I refer you to the Woodforde diaries for more information on the duties of a clergyman in these circumstances (not to mention the 'private connections' of the clergymen themselves!). Jane Austen herself was sufficiently aware of the potential danger of casual liasons to write to her sister on the matter of a young village girl, who showed signs of being too interested in the Knight boys Jane and Cassandra were united in feeling that such things should be firmly nipped in the bud.
But to return to your original question: I don't see, anywhere in either
of the works, where Jane Austen indicates that the previous sexual experience of
either Mr Knightley or Captain Wentworth was relevant to the action of the
novels.
Julie
Dear Julie,
Sorry to Julie, that you should be the object of my vitriol. Now for my monologue. Jane Austin did not write about slavery. She wrote however a lot about sex in one form or another. One of the reasons we love her is the way she flirts with us, the reader. Emma refers to Knightley as a brother early on in the book and Knightley reproaches her in an avuncular fashion. Whoa, I'm getting queasy. Forget her look at Anne Elliot. She is forced by manners to act civily all the while witnessing her fine specimen of a man and beloved pitch woo to another! Talk about sexual repression and depression, You know there are many a night she sleeps in a full fetal.
Has anyone compared the Bible to her stories? That is one book you can rely on as her being well versed in. And a topic of much conversation in that family. Noah, no David, no oh I've got one, Marianne Dashwood and Job.
Dear Mrs P,
I can do no better, I think, than to quote (from memory, as I no longer have the book) from the introduction to Emma in the Penguin edition of 1970-something, on the subject of sex in Emma: first, the writer comments that 'the obviousness of the match between Mr Knightley and Emma is such that the reader is surprised that they don't become engaged in the first chapter....'. And later, when discussing the end of the novel, 'Jane Austen is laughingly closing the bedroom door of Hartfield in the reader's face......courting is a public act, but the marriage ordeal is the most private in the world......'
This reviewer was, I think, very perceptive. Sexuality, and sexual
attraction, vibrate throughout all of Jane Austen's novels. Her art,
however, is far above tawdry descriptions of physical acts, best left to the
bodice-rippers. She understood lust very well, and drew several sad
pictures of what happens to people who come together on the basis of lust
alone: Mr and Mrs Bennet (if ever a man was thinking with his balls and
not his head at the time of marriage, it was that gentleman!), Lydia Bennet and
Wickham, Maria Rushworth and Henry Crawford, to name a few. Such liasons
are only too easy to make, unfortunately. Jane Austen's concern was with
the much more interesting, more complex, and ultimately more satisfying issues
of intellectual, as well as sexual, attraction.
Julie
Dear Jonesy,
We don't talk about sex enough around here - damn it! But, I thought you might like some references to times when we did have it right.
A discussion of contraception in Jane Austen's time began with my post of 10/23/98 ("married sex and the contraceptive sponge in Jane Austen's times"). Actually, the best way to read that is to link to the archives for fall, 1998, scroll down to 10/23/98 so that you can link to all of the correct files from there. Also, link to winter-spring, 1999 and scroll to 6/13/99 ("The Shopkeeper in Jane Austen's time - and another one for Ray"). Next, link to summer, 1999, and scroll to 7/8/99 ("1771-75: Love, Marriage, and Murder in Jane Austen's Time"). See, especially the note I appended to Julie's reply to that post. Finally, link to 3/25/99 ("Jane, eroticism, and other thoughts") for another, somewhat related discussion.
Dear Ashton and Julie,
What can I say, tante grazie.
Dear Grandpa,
He is the most handsome and he is my favorite little cousin. Smooches!
Dear Folks,
I will root for the Rams today because Dick Vermeil's name is one of my last ties to my youth. Nearly the last game I played in was a Junior College game in which Vermeil and I were opposing quarterbacks (and safeties). That game was played in Kentfield, California, on November 11, 1955. Everyone in attendence would have correctly guessed which quarterback might lead a team to a professional championship game someday. (Although the "Super Bowl" was not invented until 1966 - and not everyone would have guessed correctly - I would have got it wrong.) I still have the program for that game, but I have stopped showing it to nieces and nephews because they only laugh at the photos.
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