The Voices of Men in Praise of Jane Austen
Messages on the
Bulletin Board - c. Feb. 2, 2000
Dear folks,
Found this on the Jolly Roger site which some of you Janites may have already visited. If you have not, the chat room is basically a listing of what sound like Cliff Notes questions. This one however may interest you, "How was Knightley affected by Chaucer's portrayal of knights in The Canterbury Tales?"
Dear Folks,
I have just completed a more careful reading of Matilda and I want to discuss it with you. This is a short story written, as best I can figure, about two years after the death of Jane Austen (1817). Mary Shelley submitted it to her dad the next year for publication, but he came unglued, for reasons that will become obvious, and so it would not be published until 1959 - yes, 1959.
Mary Shelley was the daughter of Mary Wollstonecraft and William Godwin, and the wife of Percy Shelley. Mary Shelley was raised to be a feminist and a political radical but her writings show little inclination in either of those directions. She was deeply involved in sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll - excuse me - sex, drugs, and romantic poetry. In that way she must have been as perplexing and disappointing to her father as Gen-Xers are to the parents who were radicals in the sixties. History repeats itself, first as a tragedy and then as a farce.
Mary Shelley is one of those peculiar writers who produce great works while not being an especially great artist - certainly nothing like the same rank of artist as Jane Austen. Charles Dickens was like that I think. I hasten to add that Mary Shelley and Dickens had little else in common. (Actually, I prefer Shelley a little bit.) You can skip the works of her mother and not miss much, unless you want a context for Jane Austen or unless you crave some good, old-fashioned male-bashing. But, you may not want to skip Mary Shelley.
Here is a short synopsis of Matilda; brace yourself. It is written in diary form, the diary of Matilda. Matilda was raised by a cold, unfeeling aunt after the death of the mother and abandonment by the father who had deeply loved the mother and could not bring himself to countenance the child. Matilda had never known her father but compensated for her sterile environment by romanticizing about him, cherishing and embellishing his letters. Finally, the father returned from his exotic, foreign travels when Matilda reached the age of sixteen. Everything was wonderful at first, absolutely wonderful and everything that Matilda had dreamed of. The father then took her away to live in London where things were even more wonderful until Matilda was courted by young men to whom, by the way, she was indifferent. The father then grew increasingly depressed and even dismissed Matilda's most ardent lover. The father-daughter relationship also decayed much to the dismay and grief of Matilda, who then skillfully devised a scene in which she might compel the father to explain himself. He did - he was in love with her. Father and daughter were both repelled, and the depressed condition of the father deepened and ended only with his suicide. Matilda felt disgraced and ashamed and divested most of her wealth and retired to a lonely Scottish heath to live in solitude and to await her own death, which she prayed would come soon. She would have no other human contact except for a Byron-like poet who moved into the neighborhood after suffering a lost love. (He was a physically beautiful, published poet who had gained a national reputation at an early age.) There was a love, but a strange one because Matilda was too wounded to give herself up in a normal way. She eventually decided that a suicide pact was just the ticket and made a compelling argument to him to join her in the plan. He then made a more compelling argument for her to stay alive. These are very interesting passages and I hope that I have not trivialized them for you. Anyway, he was called away, and while away, Matilda developed the illness that ended her life and closed the tragedy.
Not exactly Jane Austen, is it? But, this was written in Jane Austen's time. At first, Matilda seems silly melodrama. Then, after you think about it, it suddenly hits you, it is all there in the subtle text, Matilda withdrew and prayed for her own death for one simple reason. Matilda suffered a guilt similar to her father's.
I have only a thumbnail sketch of the context for Matilda and here it is. Mary Shelley had just suffered the deaths of her two children in Rome. They had gone there for her "husband's health" and lost two children instead. Mary would never forgive her husband for that. Mary was reaching out to someone with this manuscript I think; she would say that the writing was the only thing that could console her at the time. Recently opened archives make it quite explicit that Byron was, indeed, cohabiting with his sister - that had been suspected for some time. Was Matilda a twisted way for Mary Shelley to reach out to Byron? Certainly, the Bryron-like character in the story is treated with great sympathy. I don't know the answer to this question and never will because I am not a scholar, but I have my suspicions. Incidentally, before you wonder at the Byron-Shelley menage and the conditions that produced it, may I remind you of Columbine High School? I mean, where are your kids tonight?
Dear Meister and folks,
I must rush out and read Matilda instantly! Sounds very interesting. Although I'm not sure about the shared guilt thing. (Not sure I understand, that is.)
I am going back to England for a couple of weeks in March. When I left that fair country some time ago I was not a huge Austenite. I intend to visit a few shrines to Our Lady. What do you folks recommend? Chawton? Bath?
Incidentally, a friend of mine (who is remarkably similar in looks and temperament to Jennifer Ehle in P&P) informs me that she has bought a flat in Bath in which Jane Austen wrote Northanger Abbey. Apparently this was the home of her Aunt and Uncle Perrot (Jane's Aunt and Uncle rather than my friend Georgie's) in the Paragon. Does this sound right to you?
Dear Anielka,
It is hard to type with this lump in my throat; I have never been to England and I very much envy you.
Two other members of the community have made recent pilgrimages to the shrines and I thought to give you those links. First there is your countrywoman, Kate2, who described her visits to Chawton and then to Bath. Next, there was the extensive visit of my countryman, Ray Mitchell, and the description of his search for Jane Austen. In the latter case, the rest of us tried to help Ray plan his trip. You may want to read that part of the archives to learn of the kind of help that can be expected from our community. Here is the link to the archives for early months of 1999. Begin with Ray's posting of 2/27/99 ("Re: Jane Austen's burial") and then scroll to find several other attempts over the next several months.
Mr. and Mrs. James Leigh-Perrot (originally Leigh) were related as you say. James was the brother of Jane Austen's mother (nee Cassandra Leigh). The Leigh-Perrots did live in Bath for much of the year and the young Jane Austen visited them there and gained her early experience of Bath in that way before her own family moved there upon the father's retirement. There seems to be no consensus about where or even when Northanger Abbey was written. This is the first I have heard that it might have been written at Bath itself. That doesn't matter; the fact that your beautiful, wonderful friend even lives in that home is enough in itself. You really must inform yourself about them before you leave Australia. In fact the Perrots almost ended up in Australia - at Botany Bay perhaps, or at Tasmania (where they would have been forced to release chickens into the environment in order to establish a feral species). That was because Mrs. Perrot was charged with shoplifting of goods worth more than one shilling, a deportable offense. She spent something like six months in jail - excuse me - goal, waiting trial. Jane Austen's mother offered up both of her daughter's to wait upon their aunt while in jail. The offer was refused; it was unthinkable to the aunt that such elegant young women should be subjected to such a scene. In this way, humanity was cheated out of one the greatest novels of English culture.
If you do not promise to correspond extensively during your trip, you will be sent a live chook every week until such time as you do.
Dear Ashton,
There may be interest in this site.
John
--
Clones are people two.
Dear Ashton, Julie and other folks,
Many of you will know that I have been reading about the life of Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots in a bid to discover what it was that JA loved so much about her. I still can’t answer the question "why JA liked Mary" but I think I may have spotted a certain storyline in which a part of Mary Stuart’s life has been immortalised.
Mary Stuart was sent to France at an early age. With her were sent four other little girls, all called Mary and the five Marys were brought up as sisters and companions to one another. The other four Mary’s were all of noble birth Mary Livingston, Mary Fleming, Mary Seaton and Mary Beton. Mary Fleming was the acknowledged beauty of the Marys. She was courted by Maitland, a respected member of the court and their forthcoming marriage became a topic of open discussion at the Scottish court. Mary Beton was considered a pretty young woman but Mary Livingston was nicknamed The Lusty because of her love of gaity and fondness of dance. She had high spirits and an exceptional vivacity. Mary Seton was known as having a more contrasting, pious nature and was more devoted to the service of her mistress. All five had been brought up at the French court and were considered rather silly about fine clothes although "Their faults, if any, sprang from the natural light-heartedness and frivolity of youth rather than anything more vicious". (Fraser, Mary Queen of Scots.) Mary Stuart supposedly had a little more sense as her education had been particularly attended to and she is known to have spent some time studying Latin and Greek. Although she was not known for her high-flying intellect she had a simple and direct nature and a degree of good humour and wit her "merry moods" as they were known.
Despite the expectations that Mary Fleming would be the first to wed, in the end, however, it was Mary Livingston, The Lusty, who married first. She married John Semple, nicknamed The Dancer. Knox, a calvinist activist and preacher who was in communication with the (Catholic) court of Mary QOS wrote that shame and a suggestion of an affair had hastened Mary Livingston’s marriage to John Semple.
And what of Mary Queen of Scots? Well, she fell violently and passionately in love with a tall, proud very handsome young man called Darnley. She didn’t think much of him the first time she saw him. Darnley’s first cousin once removed was Queen Elizabeth 1st of England. Because Mary had a claim to the English throne she had been deferring to Elizabeth on her choice of marriage partner. Queen Elizabeth sent a great deal of advice through her emissary Throckmorton on whom Mary should not marry. (Mary pointed out that this was not very helpful better advice would be on whom she should marry!). When Queen Elizabeth discovered that Mary had her heart set on her kinsman, Darnley she became very angry. (Darnley also had a claim on her throne and of course any subsequent offspring would have their claims redoubled.)
Throckmorton was instructed to argue against the match but he reported back to Queen Elizabeth that "there was no point in exercising any persuasion and reasonable means any further". Throckmorton, who had admired Mary excessively was upset by her failure to comply to the wishes of his mistress, Elizabeth. He concluded that Mary had been captivated by love or cunning "to say truly, by boasting or folly".
Sound familiar? Of course, after they married it all went a bit haywire as any historians amongst you will know.
Julie. Excellent point. Of course Jane would have had to have had some empathy with Marianne’s mercurial (great adjective. Must use more often) tendencies and also Elinor’s sense otherwise she would never have been able to create the two characters. I hadn’t thought of that before. Hope the chooks are well
Dear Anielka,
Let's see if this gets censored twice (!): I keep a hatchet and block outside the dairy door, with which I permanently deal with any chooks foolish enough to get in my way while I'm milking. Now, before sensitive souls scream and faint, let me explain that this property is encumbered with a feral chook population numbering over 50 head (when they are wearing heads, that is) which constitute an infernal nuisance, as they defecate in feed containers and over the hay, and generally make prize pests of themselves. They roost up gum trees and are only catchable when they come into the dairy - which they do but once.
From the Meister: Did it occur to you that
that
fire might have been set by Greenpeace?
I remember a quote about the Austen sisters, that went something like this:
'Cassandra had the merit of possessing a temper always under control, while Jane
had the happiness to possess a temper that never needed controlling.' I
don't believe it for a minute, incidentally: if it were true, Jane Austen
would have been a much more benign, bland character than she clearly was. Jane
Austen also talks somewhere of her sister being hilariously funny, and a wicked
mimic. It seems to me that, probably starting with nephew Jame's
Memoir, there has been a tendency to rub the edges off of both sisters,
in order to portray them as the ideal daughters of Victorian society (James
Edward Austen was well and truly a Victorian). In his memoir "Edward"
talks of some length of the improvements that had taken place in society in
general, since his aunt's time: perhaps he thought that his improved
society would not care for the real, flesh and blood Austen sisters? While he
gives much valuable information in his work, he does not present us with the
woman that we meet in Jane Austen's books, or in her letters.
Julie
Dear Anielka,
I've only just seen your post of January 30, so I'm a little late in replying. What do I think?
Perhaps. Jane Austen may well have had some of Marianne's impulses, but she also had, thankfully, Elinor's sense. I suspect her tempereament to have been more mecurial than Cassandra's, but, as an adult at least, it always seems to have been under control. After all, the two sisters in Sense and Sensibility were drawn as a satire on a mode of feeling popular at the time the novel was written, and which Jane Austen deplored. My view has always been that she did not, in Sense and Sensibility, create characters quite as she meant them to be: it is one of her less sophisticated works. However, in drawing the characters she was using individuals to make a point about the behaviour of fashionable society Elinor and Marianne are microcosms (God help me, I sound like a sociologist!), I feel, or perhaps allegories would be a better word?
As to Cassandra's temperament: I don't know that I've ever really met
her. She is the person to whom Jane Austen speaks, of course, but we hear
very little of that beloved sister's own voice, and that only at a time of great
grief. She has come in for much resentment over the years, due to her
censorship of her sister's correspondence (acting, I believe, entirely as Jane
Austen would have wished), but I've always thought that I would have liked
her.
Julie
Dear John,
Hockey's a good game. Actually, I've been to twice as many professional hockey games as I have been to professional baseball games - 1 NHL, 1IHL versus 1 MLB.
What's great about baseball is that it is a game that can be watched without actually being seen. Baseball plays much better over the radio than does any other sport I can think of and a box score in the newspaper, in a space no larger than a credit card, tells the whole story of the game. Baseball is timeless, baseball is sublime. Baseball is fresh cut grass, a glass of beer and a hammock in the back yard. The old saying goes that "Baseball is physics for the intellectual" (Although Alan Bock says that football is physics for the physicist). I don't fall in the intellectual catagory, but I can think of few things in the world of professional baseball to match the beauty of Sandy Koufax letting fly with a fastball or Stan Musial uncoiling for a homer.
Hockey is rough and tumble and exciting and is a better game for today than is baseball. It reflects the world in which we live. Or, at least, I think it does.
There is one thing I do know for sure. It is much more likely that Jane Austen and her family played rounders than hockey. And I'm sure that JA would have been following the horsehide if the game had been played during her time. And she would have been a Boston Red Sox fan. I know this for a fact.
Dear Dave and John,
Jane Austen and baseball? Sport, dammit, on a Jane Austen site?
(Printable) words fail me.
Julie
P.S. In case you should wonder why this is being shot across the ether
at 0344hrs Australian time, some local nohopers have lit a fire at my husband's
shop, and I'm waiting for him to come home from helping the local volunteer fire
brigade put it out. I'm told that our boys do a wonderful line in
eccentric nightwear!
J.
From the Meister: Good Lord, Julie! Please
expand
your postscript. What is a "nohoper"?
Dear Folks,
Nohoper = no-hoper: loser, bum, derelict, vandal, etc. Good Australian term, that.
Well, the fire is out, and there is a hole in my head where my good night's sleep should be.
We are at the height of bushfire season here - dry as dust, with hot days and high winds - and my husband's shop has a mature pine plantation directly behind it. Some moron decided it would be funny to light a fire in the paddock immediately beside the shop. Luckily a passing local saw it burning, and phoned us at home, at about 3.00a.m. The local volunteer fire brigade took about an hour to extinguish it - all in their pyjamas (those that wear them) and sundry attire grabbed from beside the bed.
We owe them a slab (a slab is 24 cans of beer), which is cheap at the price, I reckon. My husband says that he knew the danger was over when the bastards started spraying each other with their fire hoses.
I'm knackered.
Love,
Julie
Julie, dear
The first appearance of the word baseball that can be found in print appeared in Northanger Abbey more than fifty years earlier than anywhere else--but I believe that someone has found the word in Upper Canada closer to its appearance in Jane Austen's oeuvre, although still a generation later. Catherine was much keener on baseball than she was on whatever a young girl ought to be keen on, especially one who is to be the heroine of a novel and have horrid marvellous adventures. It seems to me that if Catherine found great pleasure in playing baseball (and she did do) then we are obliged as true Janeites to recognize the fact, even to memorialize it as David did by attending one MLB (Major League Baseball) game and the Meister does in wearing a baseball cap backwards whilst rooting (cheering) for an American-style football team, the Rams, I believe. As for me, for many years sailing has been my sport, as it was for Anne and others in Persuasion and Tom and Sir Thomas in Mansfield Park.
Re nohopers definition: I knew that.
I have a question: If Emma had mounted Box Hill and Elizabeth the Derbyshire Peaks in winter, would they have skied down--or at least have worn down.
I forget: Did Darcy list being speechless among the achievements of a
truly accomplished woman? All the way from Pemberley to the Second
Proposal, the impudent, cheeky, pert, and witty Elizabeth was variously
speechless or nearly so in Darcy's company. It must have been an exquisitely
painful journey: so much to say, so much to wish to say, but no opportunity to
speak without seeming to disgrace herself in Darcy's eyes (ears?). Yet, anything
that Elizabeth could have said in this long post- Pemberley session could only
fill Darcy with Bliss. He would have been infused with the same sort of joyous
thrill that engulfed Mr Knightly when he began to think that Frank Churchill was
a splendid fellow. An insensitive reader only could not share in the anguish
felt by Darcy and Elizabeth. Is it this anguish so acutely felt by the reader
that drove Mark Twain mad, wishing to beat Jane Austen with her own shin
bone?
John
Dear Miss Julie,
I'm sorry to have introduced sports to the bulletin board, but Ashton made me do it with his reference to the Stuporbowl (I mean Superbowl).
But I will make the defense, weak as it may be, that a society is reflected by the sports it plays. You and I have corresponded concerning games (which are mentioned in the Canon) and I think I may have mentioned something about games being suitable for their times.
I cannot imagine that JA was completely oblivious to the sports being played in the neighborhood. Remember, this was the time when croquet was being codified in England and cricket was being played between Gentlemen and Players. Do you seriously believe that JA never rolled a bowl or took a swing at a pitched ball? Or watched her brothers do the same?
As I've written you before, I'm not much of a sports fan, but baseball, to me, is the only "sport" (really, it's professional athletics) worth paying attention to. But baseball seems to have become the domain of old geezers who wheeze about how the game was so much better back in the days of the "dead ball". If you know anything about baseball, you'll know that both of my player references were for players who retired more than thirty years ago. So what can I do but shake my cane at young upstarts like John (no matter what his age is) who insist that hockey is better?
I hope the fire didn't do too much damage to the shop and that you'll be able to collar the clown who set it.
And I still insist that JA would have been a BoSox fan.
And I still insist that JA would have been a BoSox fan.
Dear Folks,
My wife recently gave me a CD
Jane's Hand - The Jane Austen
Songbooks / Baird,
Newman
The CD was produced by Victoria, and my wife bought it at amazon.com.
I wasn't very interested - I thought this to be another exploitation of our Lady's name; but, it was a gift so I figured, "oh, what the hell", and decided to listen to it while I was doing something else. Within a few seconds I was a blubbering mess (I am one of those unfortunate men who have no room to criticize Dick Vermeil). Here is the deal: in those days, sheet music was very expensive so folks tended to borrow from others to make hand-written copies for themselves. Apparently, Jane Austen did a lot of that and her notebooks have survived. So, what this outfit did was use Jane Austen's notes to produce this CD.
The accompaniments are either the harpsicord or fortepiano on the various cuts (22 cuts altogether). For the most part, there is a beautiful soprano solo with a few tenor pieces and even a small number of duets. Some songs are dramatic, some sweet, some sacred, and others are hilarious - all are beautiful. There are a few children's songs. I like best the songs that gently mock the Navy. The music was obviously originally composed for non-professional musicians but there is a sophistication as well - a glimpse of English culture of the times. The biggest shock for me was to discover that Gilbert and Sullivan were following in a tradition that already existed in Jane Austen's time - did you know that? I didn't know that. The really eerie part - I mean the best part is that these are the songs that her family heard Jane Austen play and sing. That is very affecting, almost too affecting. Some will say that our Lady could not possibly have sounded as well as this modern soprano, but Anielka and I say, "prove it!"
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