Dear Ashton et al,

I am recovering from watching yesterday the violent horror of The Cobra. I understood then that I could not write such violence: I could not sustain these scenes.

It was a welcome relief to find your piece on great passion in the novels. I am not a true devout of placing the most passionate passages together, or, perhaps not of reading them without the balancing effect of Austen's context. But it is good to be able to go to them quickly.

What I am devoted to is reading Austen's humour. A similar collection here would suit me very well.

In Jane Austen's version, Darcy smiles at the Elizabeth accusation and replies, "And yours is to misunderstand...." EB does not learn what Darcy means by his reply, because Miss Bingley reacts with alarm. The Colin Firth Darcy is outraged by EB's reply, and in this manner legionnes are misled as to Darcy's nature.

I would like it fine to go back and forth from great passion to devasting wit. It would keep me balanced.

Dear John,

No, not Darcy - I am talking about Wilde's play that was recently made into a film - that is what I watched yesterday. It is excellent and you should watch it as an antidote for The Cobra. A wonderful aspect is that you are given the opportunity of watching two of the finest actresses of our times cross swords in the film. That would be Cate Blanchett and Julianne Moore. The English have no need at all to call to Australia and America for female leads, but I am very glad they did on this occasion.

Two comments: the first is that when we place this play along side Rozema's male-bashing perversion of Mansfield Park, an old prejudice of mine is reinforced - a significant difference between gay men and gay women, in general, is that gay men can be trusted on the subject of women. What do you say?

Secondly, if we could eliminate the passionate parts of a Jane Austen novel, would we not produce something like An Ideal Husband - something highly entertaining, but not very important?

To All,

I was talking to a friend the other day, and happened to mention the fact that Switzerland is a land-locked country.

"How can you say that Switzerland is not an island," he replied, turning red with emotion. "How can you deny the title of ‘island’ to the birthplace of William Tell, the historical home of democracy, the noble land of freedom?"

What could I do in the face of such an attack? "OK," I admitted. "Switzerland is an island."

I mention this because of Ashton’s attempts to exonerate Austen of the charge of being a passionless and unromantic author.  Of course there is no doubt that Austen wrote about people, and she wrote about romance, and the people she wrote about were not devoid of feelings. However, I think when critics say Austen is passionless, they mean she is passionless in comparison to other writers.  Let’s look at the facts:

Ashton claims that there is a palpable sexual tension between Elizabeth and Darcy.  This tension is (supposedly) illustrated in this scene:

"... Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the expression of heart-felt delight, diffused over his face, became him  but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of feelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable."

Now it seems to me that this is hardly the passionate love scene of a romantic writer. No Romeos or Juliets here to compare their lovers to the sun.  In fact, the scene seems mainly aimed at making the slyly ironic comment that the more Darcy told Elizabeth how great she was, the more Elizabeth valued his affection and opinion.  A great scene, but hardly romantic, as love scenes go.

Ashton then goes on to compare the witty, tension-filled banter between Elizabeth and Darcy to the banter between Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy.  This is a fair comparison, but it is difficult to imagine a less sexy couple of movie stars.  Hepburn, with her clipped diction, boyish figure, and regal air was always distant ("like a goddess", Cary Grant said in the Philadelphia Story).  Tracy was middle aged and frumpy even as a young man.  The tension between them had (it is true) a sexual aspect to it, but that aspect was LESS important than it was for almost any other Hollywood couple.

There are passionate scenes in Austen’s novels.  The scene where Eleanor discovers Marianne with Willoughby’s letter is heart rending.  But most of the tender scenes (such as that one) are asexual.  For Ashton to claim that the scene where Wentworth rescues Anne from her nephew is "sensual" is a bit of a stretch.  The scene is touching and evocative (in a reserved way), but hardly passionate or sensual.

I think we want those things we love to be perfect in every way.  We think passion in literature is a good thing, so we want to discover passion in Jane Austen.  We think Switzerland is a noble land, so we want to call it an island.  I will promise to look for passion in Austen’s novels, if Aston promises that the next time he is at sea, he will keep his eyes open for the sea-girt crags of Switzerland.

Dear Bruce,

And, indeed, that posting to which you refer was a collaboration. In fact, most of your criticisms are directed at the ideas of others than myself. I must say that I will gladly own them should their inventors decide not to. I will respond as best I can to those parts of your critique that are addressed to my own contributions. That is difficult because the situation is that you merely deny what we assert. I mean, the passages speak for themselves so eloquently that I cannot imagine what else to say - I will try.

We never intended the meaning of "passion" to be "sexual passion". The thrust of our posting was to call notice to all the passions of the novels, those passages that are moving to the reader because of the deeply emotional content therein. You might go back and verify that we never used the term "sexual passion" - not once. The emotion of the sex act is not portrayed in the novels, everyone knows and acknowledges that. However, I am bewildered that anyone would deny the sexual tension, I am at a loss for words. The passages selected so far (that page is in only a preliminary construction phase) illustrate many other passions such as a deeply heart-felt remorse for example.

We live in a slightly benumbed world, a world in which the augmented breast and the foul mouth is de rigour. This is not my world, this is not my internet (apologies to the Talking Heads). In my world, the kiss is exciting, as is a woman in a straw hat, or a Stetson, or a bonnet, or a cap, or a beret - why did women stop wearing flowers in their hair?

I contributed the passage from Persuasion in which Wentworth assisted Anne with her rambunctious nephew, and I find it deeply sensual. The context is this: Anne had been grieving for eight years - eight years out of a very young life - because she regeted having broken her engagement to Wentworth. He came back into her life at exactly that time when her family life was crumbling, they had to give up their home. And he seemed not to want to have anything to do with her, he treated her in one of the worst possible ways - he was polite to her. At the moment in question, Anne was being exploited by her sister who did not want the bother of tending to her own injured child. In that instant, with that act, Wentworth demonstrated that he was watching her, was concerned for her, and would put himself out for her. That physical contact, albeit through the intervening child, would have been electric. The shock was so great that both Anne and Wentworth went discombobulated. Can you not sense that or will you call all this my wishful thinking? Wentworth lost his self-control, his cool; he could not treat Anne with the polite indifference he had invented; he sensed what had happened, he was exposed, and he could not bring himself to engage with her. But then, I suppose that this cannot meet the modern standards of passion because he did not rip at her clothing.

I bet you will agree to one thing: Jane Austen devoted a great deal of space in her letters to a discussion of the hats and bonnets she was wearing or was about to wear.

To Everyone,

I am, as you see, a woman, but a woman in awe of this website, nevertheless.

I have always considered myself to be a supporter of equality for all, but get quite annoyed when some woman feel that degrading men is a means of achieving this goal. As an enthusiastic admirer of Jane Austen and her works, I get particularly annoyed with those women who place her in the ranks of a modern-day feminist. Apparently they haven't read the novels! For this very reason, I was pleased to find a discussion board such as this one where my views will not be blasted (I hope, anyways) :).

Enough with my time on the soap box, now for my question. Does anyone know of ways to find out more information on the male members of Jane Austen's family?

Thank you very much and many kind regards.

Dear Maria,

We are all pleased that you have decided to join us. And, we promise not to blast you - if that is the way you want it - but, where is the fun in that?

Most of the biographies say a great deal about the men in Jane Austen's family because it is impossible to say much about Jane Austen without providing background about the brothers. The Sailor Brothers is especially useful in this regard, but the focus is too narrow; it deals mostly with brother Francis (Frank) Austen. Here is the link to the references page where you will find a list of biographies (with annotations if you wish). And, here is a link to the table of contents; from there you can to link to a series of comments that male members of our Lady's family made about her.

Dear Ashton,

I have been warned off commenting long enough.

If you were expecting the knockout blow, why am I breathless? I can tell you why: someone has implied/said/uttered that Charlotte Bronte and Mrs Radcliffe are in a Romantic vs Gothic standoff.

Let me be very clear about this matter: All of the Brontes and Mrs Radcliffe wrote Gothic novels, Emily, conceded, towering above the other three because Wuthering Heights is simply stunningly better than the other Gothic novels.

Austen, Wordsworth, Coleridge, the Shelleys, Byron, Blake and Burns are Romantics. Their work is concerned with ordinary people. Frankenstein may seem out of place in this list to anyone who has given it a quick glance, but it is manifestly a work in which the monster is the metaphor for the new industrial class being created by scientists and industrialists. We have seen the triumph of this monster in the successes of the Communist Party in many places and in that of, say, the British Labour Party in the UK. It is true that having succeeded the monster begins to act like its creator. But to our purpose, Mary Shelley and William Blake shared the same journey: Mary warning of the dire consequences resulting from creating a class without love and respect, and Blake pleading with England to cease the horrors inflicted upon the helpless. Like Austen, their concern is real people of their day, but they have chosen to write about nameless masses, whereas, Jane takes four or five families in a neighbourhood and uses them to represent the broader neighbourhood of England.

Dear Janites,

I've looked a little more into this Emma as a lesbian thing. (Refer to the conversations beginning with my post of 5/16/00.)

But first a little background. Emma Tennant is the half-sister to Lord Glenconner (whoever he is), the daughter-in-law of Henry Green (whoever he is) and is pals with Princess Margaret. So I guess that she hangs around with the aristos and we all know what a bunch of characters they are.

Lady Rachel Billington (another aristo, but apparently one with a little sense), the daughter of Lord Longford and the sister of Lady Antonia Fraser (who was great on the BBC program My Word), says this about Tennant's claim of flannel-shirtism regarding Emma:

" Suggesting that Emma was a lesbian is silly really. You can't take that seriously. It's all that post-Freudian analysis where you can read anything you like into anything. I couldn't do this book in such a light-hearted way."

Now there's an aristo I wouldn't mind popping a Sam Adams with.

Now, here's the deal. (Am I being possessed by the spirit of H. Ross Perot?) I think that more than any other of our dear Jane's characters Emma is the tabula rasa. She is the character that somehow reflects whatever the reader brings to the novel. I've seen the same thing happen in my research about St. Joan of Arc. Was she a patriot? A saint? A feminist? A lesbian? A nut?

The best thing is to read the plain text. Emma was a spoiled girl who thought she knew what was best for everyone but herself. Mr. Woodhouse should have given her a couple of good spankings for her presumption. But then, if he did, we wouldn't have a story. But she's just so darn cute. Like a cocker spaniel puppy.

What I really want to know about is the secret life of Mr. Woodhouse. Where'd his money come from? I suspect that he was a backgammon hustler in his youth and that he made his fortune from people with too much money. I think that the gruel diet is a sham and that in secret he treats himself with Cheddar cheese and the roast beef of England. Ah, what could be better?

By the way, if anyone should decide to address a post to me, I really prefer to be addressed as Dave. David is a king's name and if there is one thing that I ain't it's a king. As a matter of fact, I suspect that my ancestors were indentured servants (read "slaves") in the Carolinas in the 17th century. So it's just Dave, thank you.

Dear Dave,

It is lucky for you that I have a keen mind. Mr. Woodhouse made his living from the transportation and sale of lesbian slaves (read "indentured lesbians"). This must have been mentioned in Jane Austen's letters and that is why Cassandra burned them - that is the clue I used to figure out all this.

Dear David Payton,

Contrary to the cherished beliefs of the multitude, the Romantic poet Blake considered himself a faithful son of the Church of England. His object in all of the poetry was the attempt to steer his fellow Christians away from all sorts of wrong-headedness.

He was buried after the normal Church of England service for the dead. He had especially requested the normal CofE funeral.

If Blake's poetry is read without there being an awareness of his purposes, then there must indeed be a strange reading. He was not at all a mystic, but he did use some mystical metaphor to carry his message. However, when an angel and the devil debate in Blake's kitchen, The angel is an orthodox member of the Church of England (and a friend of the poet) and Blake is the devil. He does not mean that he is satanic, but that his arguments are attempts to lead people back to a more true Christianity than that he saw observed  about him.

Dear John,

You may very well be right. You probably have more knowledge of William Blake than I do, and so I have no other choice than to defer to your authority.

BUT, I would like to point out several things.

Mr. Blake was for a time associated with the Swedenborgians in England. He broke with them for reasons that I can't recall at this time. The current Swedenborgians still claim him as an adherent to their body of beliefs. The question here is whether or not Swedenborgians are Christians. My opinion is that they are tangentially so, since they rely on the extra-Biblical revelations of Emmanuel Swedenborg and some of these revelations at some places are at odds with the Bible and the historic creeds. I do know that Swendenborgianism is not compatible with orthodox Anglican theology.

Calling one's self an Anglican does not necessarily make it so. I can think of two living prelates in the church who are considered by the orthodox Anglicans (meaning traditional and old fashioned) who consider these men as not even Christian, let alone Anglican. I also point out the former Dominican priest, Matthew Fox, who is now an Episcopal priest in San Francisco who's theology is more in line with liberal Hinduism than it is with classical Anglican thought. He was, in fact, expelled from his Roman Catholic order, not because his theology bordered on Protestant, but because it is pantheistic. But those darn Anglicans will take almost anyone. I know. They took me. Fox considers himself a Christian. I consider him a New Ager of the first water. Arius thought himself a Christian, but now he is considered a Gnostic.

The idea of Mr. Blake being a mystic is not an insult. The Church Universal has had no shortage of mystics who have been recognized and honored. St. Catherine of Sienna, St. Joan of Arc and Julian of Norwich immediately come to mind. To be a true mystic is a gift from God. To be a false one is to be a liar.

The idea of Mr. Blake talking to angels is also not intended to be an insult. Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox and Anglican Catholic devotional books are not shy about encouraging believers to pray to various archangels and one's guardian angel. The only volume I have at hand is the traditional St. Augustine's Prayerbook and there are prayers to the archangels Gabriel and Michael in the book. And if one can pray to an angel, one can talk to them. St. Joan of Arc talked to and claimed that she was spoken to by angels and saints and I don't claim that she was some sort of nutter.

My familiarity with Mr. Blake's life is admittedly sketchy. I can only recognize two of his poems at first sight. I think I would have liked him as a man. Considering that Anglicanism considers itself the Via Media he would probably fall into the Anglican fold, but I wonder if Hooker would have thought so.

Dear Dave,

My objection to such statements as Blakes' mysticism and his non-acceptance o Christianity is that such statements are erroneous, not that they are insults--although I have both heard and read insulting dismissals of his poetry on those grounds.

What Blake so tirelessly campaigned against in his illustrated poetry was the lack of caritas in England. What he saw was the lack of love for one's fellows, children (rich and poor) and adults alike.

Dear Linda,

As you see, I am going to handle these postings a bit differently - I will devote a web page to these selections of yours. Just send them along one or two at a time, and I will get them into the right place.

Cheryl claimed she wanted to help (her selections will be more on the erotic side). When our friend is able to shake the mulch and compost from her hair and clothing, I will add her name to the author line.

If you get a chance, write a new introductory paragraph. At present, it is addressed to me, which is fine for a normal posting, but for a web page it should be written for someone who has just surfed onto the page and doesn't have a clear idea of what he is about to read.

Think of this as an on-going work and a work in progress. That means that things can be added, other things deleted, and everything can be edited or modified. I hope everyone else will join in the project. When the community thinks things are ready, I will try to get the search engines to take notice. I never have been able to do that before, but maybe this will be the time.

Dear Folks,

I received some notes from Cheryl and Linda, parts of which I can share - I leave out the swear words. I hope the rest of you will join us or criticize the hell out of us.

Cheryl has had a bad month, personally, but says, "I apologize for having fallen down on the job of searching out passages. ...  My garden is currently under a sea of pigweed and lambsquarter, but I hope to be caught up by next weekend." The pigs and lambs had got into her garden.

Linda writes, "I wasn't sure at first what you had in mind, but now I see what you are going to do with the 'passages' ... please feel free to edit, edit, edit!  I am glad that you called this an on-going work ­ it takes some of the pressure off, and I do enjoy doing this sort of thing.  I really am much too serious, ..."

"I have a very busy schedule for the upcoming holidays ­ a graduation for my nephew so it will take me awhile to get an update to you."

Reference: 5/23/00

Dear Sir,

I feel the only comment to make regarding 'sequalae' to Jane Austen's novels is no comment at all, until or unless it can be shown that the volumes in question are true sequels, meaning that they were written by the author of the originals.  Somewhow, I doubt this will happen.

I can, however, comment upon Emma's direction of Harriet Smith's and Mr Martin's reading: Emma Woodhouse never recommended a book to Robert Martin in her life, (her life being, of course, bound by the confines of the action of the novel) either herself or via Harriet. The Romance of the Forest is first mentioned by Harriet, under Emma's cross-questioning when Emma realises that if Harriet '...were not taken care of, she might be required to sink herself for ever.'

"Mr Martin, I suppose, is not a man of information beyond the line of his own business.  He does not read?" "Oh, yes!  that is, no - I do not know - ... He reads the Agricultural Reports and some other books, (and) sometimes of an evening, before we went to cards, he would read something aloud out of the Elegant Extracts ... he has read the Vicar of Wakefield.  He never read the Romance of the Forest, nor the Children of the Abbey. He had never heard of such books before I mentioned them, but he is determined to get them now as soon as ever he can.'

Mr Martin's taste, it would appear, operates better off its own initiative: Goldsmith's Wakefield I would imagine superior to the 'Romances' and 'Children' that Harriet suggests. The 'Romance' only appears once more, when Emma uses the thing to damn Mr Martin:

'How much his business engrosses him already, is very plain from the circumstance of his forgetting to inquire for the book you recommended.  He was a great deal too full of the market to think of any thing else .......

'I wonder he did not remember the book' - was all Harriet's answer.'

Emma certainly means to educate Harriet: 'they will read together.  She means it, I know,' comments Mrs Weston, but Mr Knightley is quite right when he forsees that Emma will never 'subject fancy to the understanding,' and by chapter nine it is acknowledged that 'Her views of improving her little friend's mind, by a great deal of useful reading and conversation, had never yet led to more than a few first chapters, and the intention of going on tomorrow.  It was much easier to chat than study ...'

I rather think that Jane Austen is using the 'Children' and the 'Romance' to subtly support Mr Knightley's view of Robert Martin of a sensible, intelligent, gentleman-farmer.  The Gothic horrors were for his sisters, and his sisters' friend.
Julie

Dear Julie,

Out of fairness to myself, I must say that I never suggested that Emma ever even spoke to Mr. Martin, let alone recommended his reading. I said "Emma Woodhouse encouraged Harriet to read Romance of the Forest and, then encouraged her to enlist Mr. Martin to read it as well". I read something more into those same passages, but your posting makes me realize that I have read in too much. I thought that Jane Austen intended that we infer that Emma was using the novel as still another way to suggest to Harriet and Mr. Martin that Harriet was meant for far better things than a wife of a tenant farmer. It was all Emma's fantasy of course, but kind of sweet because Emma imagined more than a natural-child's lot for her little protege. However, you are right - I extrapolate too much - I feel wretched (sniff).

Actually, it is good that we keep each other on the straight and narrow, but I also apply that principle to authors and film writers. I love getting my fangs into the Ms. Tennants, Emma Thompsons, and Patricia Rozemas of this world and I think I am doing the right thing too.

It is so very good to hear from you again.

Dear Ashton,

This is a particularly appropriate link to a Jane Austen web site. When he was asked what he thought of the new literary thing, the novel, He replied, "They lie, and they know they lie."

Jane Austen may have been consciously thinking of herself when Darcy responds to Elizabeth at Rosings that he knew that she sometimes took delight in saying things that she did not mean.