The Voices of Men in Praise of Jane Austen
Messages on the
Bulletin Board - c. June 3, 2000
Dear Mr Dennis,
My name is Michael Mogen. I'm a Jane Austen fan and particularly a fan of Pride and Prejudice, which I believe to be her greatest novel.
I have been reading some of the opinions your express on your web page. I don't agree with many, but I thought I would start with one and see if you'd encountered something in reading Pride and Prejudice that I'd missed.
You argue, regarding Darcy's first proposal, that he was induced to propose out of panic that another suitor might propose before him:
"And every time he had looked at her, she was being courted by some other man; first, there was her cousin, then Wickham, and now his cousin. He then panicked and decided to do what any Austen man would do in his place, he decided to propose to her."
What in Austen's text leads you to believe he was driven by panic? My own
view is that Darcy believed Elizabeth was expecting him to propose; that she was
actually waiting for him to propose. How could he then feel threatened by
another?
--Michael
Dear Mr Mogen,
Welcome to our community. You indicate that we have much to debate, and I should reply that that is the sort of purpose for which this forum was organized.
You indicate that I said that Darcy first proposed out a panic caused by the presence of other suitors. That is a distortion; I said something a bit different, something more: the complete quote from my posting is
"... Poor Darcy, the meeting fully brought home the realization that he was in love, but every time he had approached Elizabeth, she wanted to fight. And every time he had looked at her, she was being courted by some other man; first, there was her cousin, then Wickham, and now his cousin. He then panicked and decided to do what any Austen man would do in his place, he decided to propose to her."
I underlined what I think a crucial omission on your part. That Darcy was panicked during that proposal is obvious. Jane Austen provided a model of a man proposing in perfect confidence and that is Collins's proposal to Elizabeth. The contrast in the demeanor of the two men is marked and intentional.
You say, "My own view is that Darcy believed Elizabeth was expecting him to propose; that she was actually waiting for him to propose. How could he then feel threatened by another?" Well, I will now explain how he could feel threatened. Before that I will acknowledge that you are quoting Darcy himself, something he said after the second and successful proposal - I will come back to that after I make my case.
First of all there is the threat from Wickham. Remember that Darcy was a witness to Elizabeth's first meeting with Wickham. At the Netherfield Ball, Elizabeth made it very clear to Darcy that she believed that he mistreated Wickham most abominably. On that same occasion, Miss Bingley indicated that she knew that Elizabeth was romantically attached to Wickham. She would later indicate the same thing when the two met at Pemberley. Indeed Elizabeth is so attached as is clearly indicated in her conversation with Mrs. Gardiner. If Darcy was so obtuse as to not figure this out for himself, then we can infer that Miss Bingley would have brought the matter fully to his attention. What do you say? Elizabeth brings the matter of Wickham up again during the argument following the first proposal. To this point, Darcy has kept his cool, but then Jane Austen writes this reaction for her Darcy
" 'You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concern's' said Darcy, in a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour."
The matter of Colonel Fitzwilliam is an even more interesting situation. Her interest in Fitzwilliam is very strong and the flirtation is apparent. Darcy cannot have missed those things. Incidentally, why do you think Jane Austen included those things if not to play into Darcy's feelings? These feelings are so apparent that Fitzwilliam decides to warn her away: on the very morning that Fitzwilliam unknowingly confirmed to Elizabeth Darcy's involvement in the Bingley affair, he also hinted to Elizabeth that he, Fitzwilliam, could not marry where there was no money involved - very gentlemanly of him I think. This indicates that he is aware of Elizabeth's feelings. Actually, her feelings were mixed but, in a sentence you may have missed, when Elizabeth heard Darcy come to her door, her guess was that it might be Fitzwilliam come back to her - very interesting.
So there it is, that is how Darcy "could then feel threatened by another".
Now the explicit comment of Darcy's that you indicate in your final paragraph. Darcy says several things that should not be taken literally during and after the second proposal. For example, when he is about to tell Elizabeth that he was thinking only of her when he cleared up the mess that Lydia had made, he begins by saying, " ... But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you." "Much as I respect them"? I think not, I would sooner think that he was confident that his first proposal would be successful.
Dear Michael,
Your view is correct, of course, and is supported by the text - the text, what is more, that comes directly from Darcy's own mouth: 'What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be wishing, expecting my addresses.' At the time of the first proposal, moreover, 'he spoke of apprehension and anxiety, but his countenance expressed real security.' I have always felt that, had Elizabeth accepted this first proposal, the relationship would have ended in failure, as neither character, at this point, has insight, either of their own, or the others, personality and feelings.
I might add that Mr Dennis and I have been arguing this point for
years: I wish you luck!
Julie
Dear Bruce,
I'm the one who likened the action, and sexual tension, between Darcy and Elizabeth to that found in Tracey/Hepburn films. Really, it isn't possible to dispute a point such as this one, because sexuality is different for each of us: I find a great deal of sexual tension between Darcy and Elizabeth, and also between Hepburn and Tracey - you do not. Fair enough!
It's a long time since I made the remark, but I think I remember saying that the tension between Darcy and Elizabeth is apparent from the time of their first meeting, and is present every time they appear together: each is very, very conscious of the other. Their friends are conscious of this fact as well (Charlotte Lucas and Miss Bingley, for instance).
As for the other novels, well: the reader wonders why Mr Knightley and Emma do not become engaged in the second chapter, and Edmund's passion (read: passion) for Mary Crawford is pretty blatant (in this country we would call it 'thinking with one's balls'), though I'm not sure that it is 'love' as well as 'lust'.
In any case, there can be no argument over the point, because either one
does, or does not, find these qualities in the novels - and no harm done, either
way.
Julie
P.S.: As to the bonnets and dresses in the letters, mentioned by
Ashton, I can only point out that we don't know whether they formed the bulk of
the correspondence of Jane Austen or not, because the letters were so severely
censored by Cassandra.
J
To Julie and Ashton:
Your defense of the passionate nature of our favorite author bespeaks your own passions, I think, more than those of the either Austen or her characters. Ashton finds Wentworth’s act of simple kindness and consideration (removing the nephew from Annes’ back) "sensuous". Very well. But any "sensuality" conveyed by the scene is born of the imagination, not of the "senses". The two characters barely touch.
Of course I don’t deny that the scene is emotional, but the emotions are "touched" only figuratively, and "sensuality" seem to imply a more literal "touching".
I don’t deny that there is a sexual spark between Elizabeth and Darcy, between Emma and Knightley, and between Edmund and Miss Crawford. There usually is, when people fall in love and get married. My only point is that, given the subject matter of the novels, it would be difficult to find a LESS sensual or passionate approach.
That’s my point about Tracey and Hepburn. There is probably less kissing, caressing, blatant flirting, or sexy posing in these movies than in any other movie romances. There’s nothing wrong with that. I like Tracey and Hepburn movies. But to say, "The Tracey- Hepburn movies are notable for their blatant sensuality" would, I think, be overstating the case regardless of differences in personal taste.
Also, if you want to find sensual and sex-obsessed characters in Austen, you’re looking for lust in all the wrong places. Hepburn could play Elizabeth, but we’d need to find a Marilyn Monroe type to play Isabella Thorpe.
Dear Bruce,
In PP2, Firth allows his hand to lie on Ehle's forearm sleeve, briefly, until Ehle looks down at it (What can be in her mind?), and he takes his hand away because he does not know the movement in her regard for him. This device is highly sensual.
You may think not, but there is a BB or three elsewhere in which women of all ages give way to the thrill of excitement of this electrifying light touch. I find it fraught, fraught I repeat, with sensuality. You will have to learn that less is often more, that blatancy is often offensive, and that in accepting the Greek drama rule of the ob scene (off stage) [and also the rule of the royal censor], Jane Austen proves herself mistress of the powerful sublety. We have a number of feminine voices who, I have no doubt, will not hesitate to say that it is a cheap trick that causes so many females to wet their pants--and perhaps even to suggest that it is strange that people go out of their way for the second rate when they have the first rater in their hands.
Bruce, I do not know what to think of your objections. Are you merely playing devil's advocate to solicit from others your actual feelings about the novels? Julie has said that there can be no reply to some objections. For my part (and I do not know that you asked), if I am to respond with soarings to infinite heights of literary treasure, you will find me hiding in sick parade or somewhere.
From the Meister: The fascinating part of your
posting,
for me, is that I noticed that touch and withdrawal and
have
always wondered if others interpreted it the way I
had. In fact, I am coming
more and more to appreciate
Firth's interpretations and understated
performance.
Dear John,
The words "sensual" and "sensuous" have different meanings. According to my dictionary, "sensual" means 1) "Unduly indulging the appetite or sexual pleasure lewd 2) Pertaining to the body or physical senses carnal." Now, I find it hard to believe that you, Ashton or Julie really wants to argue that Austen is a particularly "sensual" writer.
Is she a lewd, carnal author? True, there is a carnal element to marriage and marriage is the subject of Austen’s novels, but if I were to suggest that Austen was a "lewd" author, I’m sure I would be pilloried.
Perhaps you mean to say that you find Austen "sensuous", which means "derived from the senses used in a higher and purer signification than sensual." But even in this case, I must disagree Austen is not a particularly "sensuous" writer. The world of the senses scenery, food, sex, warmth, cold, etc. is less important in Austen’s novels than in practically any other great novels. Her world is the world of people of social relationships, of conversation (her dialogue is so brilliant that screenplays can be practically lifted from the novels unchanged), of character.
I believe it was Kingsley Amis who suggested that novelists should make a pact never to mention clouds. The idea, I believe, is that extraneous description of the physical surroundings, of weather, or other "sensuous" stimuli detracts from the "character drama" of a novel, which is the drama of relationships between characters. When Ashton suggests that Wentworth rescuing Anne from her nephew is "sensual", I suggest that it is moving, emotionally evocative, and revealing of character dynamics, but neither particularly "sensual" nor "sensuous". I suppose, in the sense that strong emotions influence physical sensuality, the scene is "sensual", but it is the emotional aspect of the scene that is more important than the physical.
I’m surprised that you seem to disagree. Far be it from me to suggest that a light touch on the arm cannot be both "sensual" and "sensuous", but the movies and the books differ. Austen rarely describes such "sensuous" scenes. Instead, she concentrates on the less physical aspects of human relationships, and these emotional and intellectual aspects can be "sexy" (in a broadly defined way), but, by definition, they are neither "sensual" nor "sensuous". A novel can be "stimulating" without being "sensual", as Austen proves. I'm quite certain, by the way, that Henry Tilney would agree with me.
Dear Voices,
Although Dr Johnson did not cut a fashionable figure and did not have as much money as he should have found convenient, his greatest regret, I do believe, was that he did not live long enough to read Jane Austen's novels.
There was to be a thorough discussion of Mansfield Park. We were waiting for Heather to finish her read. Did I miss the discussions or are they yet to come?
Dear John,
I don't know whether Heather has finished reading or not, but I'm ready to discuss Mansfield Park, anywhere, any time, if only I can nail somebody to the wall and force him/her to listen!
You go first.
Julie
Dear Julie,
I place my foot into the water.
I see Mansfield Park as the place where JA reveals the ideal clergyman and the ideal wife to this clergyman. We know very little of the admirable clergymen in the canon, except Edmund. Tilney, we know, is a good man but whether he scrupulously attends meetings of the parish for more to ensure his best income, we do not know, although we should like to think so. After all, the reforms took place long after the setting of this story. What Collins says about his willingness to perform his formal duties may well have had a pretty general agreement throughout England. I do not recall the Reverend Mr Bronte doing much beyond making use of his library.
As well as the ideal clergyman and helpmate, I see also the depiction of the ideal Christian. Tom is the redeemed prodigal son Julia and Yates become dutiful, Sir Thomas has seen the light. Dr Grant succumbs to Gluttony, a plot device of course. Edmund found himself at the crossroads but chose to follow the path exemplified to Jane by her clergymen brothers.
And now I welcome you, Julie, Ashton, Heather and all others to contribute discussion about this complex work of art.
Besides, as I fumble with the keyboard, Gwenyth Paltrow and Jeremy Northam are on the telly.
Dear fellow MP lovers,
I suppose Edmund could be considered the "ideal Clergyman", if we ignore that troublesome "judge not, lest ye be judged" bit in the Bible. Still, I find his censurious priggishness troublesome. I’m sure we all remember the conversation he has with Fanny after Mary Crawford carelessly cracks a joke about her uncle:
" 'She ought not to have spoken of her uncle as she did. I was quite astonished. I could not have believed it!''I thought you would be struck. It was very wrong very indecorous.' "
Pardon me if I am "indecorous" in saying so, but if the two of you would be so kind as to shut your priggish mouths, perhaps we readers won’t think that YOU are the "indecorous" ones!
Worse is Edmund’s response to his last meeting with Mary Crawford. I’m sure we all remember this scene, as Edmund describes it to Fanny. Edmund is his usual, judgmental self in the scene:
" 'To hear the woman whom-- no harsher name than folly given! So voluntarily, so freely, so coolly to canvass it! No reluctance, no horror, no feminine, shall I say, no modest loathings? This is what the world does. For where, Fanny, shall we find a woman whom nature had so richly endowed? Spoilt, spoilt!' "
I hope when Edmund meets with his parishoners, he doesn’t go into an apoplexy of "modest loathings" every time an unmarried woman gets pregnant! The "horror" he expects others to feel in response to sin seems inappropriate for a minister. Certainly Jesus was not "horrified" by the prostitute whose sins he forgave. Perhaps Edmund should look to His example. It seems to me that a minister SHOULD learn to "coolly convass" discussions of sin.
Edmunds "ministerial manner" leaves something to be desired, as well. He tells Fanny:
" 'Gladly would I submit to all the increased pain of losing her, rather than have to think of her as I do. I told her so.' "
Perhaps a churchman should be more circumspect and sympathetic in his approach if he actually wants to convert, help, or correct anyone. Not our boy Ed, though. He’s too full of "modest loathings", "reluctance", and "horror" for that approach.
John not only thinks Edmund exemplifies the "ideal clergyman", but that Fanny is the perfect clergyman’s wife. Sickly, weak, unsuited for work, judgmental, shy and antisocial by nature, Fanny hardly seems designed for this profession by nature or by nurture.
It seems to me that Austen has become a bit judgmental and prudish herself in this novel. I remember Mrs. Rushworth meeting with "a family of lively, agreeable manners and probably of MORALS AND DISCRETION TO SUIT." This is from the creator of Emma, Elizabeth, Tilney, et. al.? Since when does Austen expect lively, agreeable manners to suggest a lack of morals?
Of one thing we can be certain. Fanny and Edmund are in no danger of possessing lively and agreeable manners. However, it does seem that their morals and discretion suit their manners their judgemental priggishness mirrors their unsociable bent.
Dear John,
Well, John, you certainly have your discussion! The 'truth, universally acknowledged', as I see it, about Mansfield Park, is that its characters tend to arouse very emphatic emotions in its readers: people either love it or loathe it. I love the work, myself, without necessarily becoming attached to any of the characters. Your point regarding Edmund's portrayal as the ideal clergyman is interesting, especially if one recalls Sir Thomas' description of such, where, in conversation with Mr Crawford, he comments that he would expect a son of his to do more than 'do the duty' of his parish: interesting, because 'do the duty' is precisely what Mr Tilney does, living as he does at this father's house Jane Austen does not appear critical of the arrangement in 'Northanger Abbey'. From her letters, there are indications that Jane Austen was examining her religion, and considering the evangelical movement, at about the time she wrote Mansfield Park (she wrote to her niece Fanny that 'she was not sure that we should not all be evangelists'). I hold the view that Edmund and Fanny are largely allegorical figures, but I do take Bruce's point that Edmund is a bit up himself at times.
I would like to have a bit more time, in which to discuss the Rev. Patrick
Bronte's life, but I'm late for work - however, just quickly, he was in fact
(despite what Mrs Gaskell said) an extremely active and conscientious clergyman,
who was active throughout his life in his parish, and worked long and hard to
improve the lot of his parishoners. The church certainly got their money's
worth from the Perpetual Curate of Haworth!
Julie
Dear John,
I thank you for the honor of your invitation (goodness, I've watched too much P&P) to contribute to the discussion about MP, but I must decline at present for 2 reasons (unless something just grabs me and I can't keep my mouth (keyboard) shut).
In the introduction by Margaret Drabble in my copy of MP, she says that MP "is, in effect and intention, a deeply moral book - that is to say, it is concerned with the moral and indeed the religious life." Therefore, I am in the middle of reading 2 books by Irene Collins - Jane Austen and the Clergy and Jane Austen: The Parson's Daughter which may answer my questions about JA's "religion". What I know about the Church of England would only fill half a thimble. That is my first reason.
Secondly, I have only read MP once and that was last year and I did not have my high lighter in hand. That is not qualification enough for me (anyway) to make comments - intelligent or otherwise.
I will leave the discussion in your capable hands and I'll let you know later
what I have discovered - if anything.
Linda
Dear John,
Since my study of Blake is meager, at best, I have no choice but to grant your point. The laurel wreath is yours.
At the risk of raising Julie's hackles regarding sports, I'd like to suggest that you get hold of the current issue of Esquire, if you can. It's the issue with a photo of Diane Lane in a less than modest pose.
There is an article within about a bat and ball game, called corkball, that is indigenous to St. Louis. It is, in its spirit, everything that baseball should be.
By the way, hockey playoffs are going on right now and the two teams play in cities where one rarely, if ever, sees a naturally frozen pond, especially in June. It just ain't natural, I tell you.
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