The Voices of Men in Praise of Jane Austen
Messages on the
Bulletin Board - c. March 22, 2001
Dear Voices,
I just wanted to share with you my emotional roller coaster ride since yesterday.
It was necessary to free up some of my tapes, so first I watched the 1930 something version of The Mill on the Floss with James Mason. The unhappy ending, the implausible instant "falling in love" by the engaged couple to others (can't remember their names), and the obnoxious Father was more than I could bear.
Next was The Scarlet Letter with Demi Moore. The ending was tolerably happy, the acting was very good, but the "religion" was not to be born.
This morning I watched The Fall of the House of Usher with Vincent Price. Oh, dearie me! Do I really have to read the books to find something to redeem these movies? I know Hollywood's reputation is not the best for adapting books.
After those, I felt the need to read our Dear Jane, but fortunately I had started another book that served the purpose to uplift my spirits. Upon recommendation of a friend, I got from the library the book by Thomas Gisborne Enquiry into the Duties of the Female Sex (1797 - reprinted 1974). For me, anyway, it is worth its weight in gold. I have only gotten as far as the first 65 pages, with a peek at Chapter 12 (I couldn't resist looking at the marriage section), and I can't believe what is in there.
He discusses the merits of private versus public education, and whether or
not to teach religion in school. The latter smacks highly of our controversy on
the issue of "the separation of church and state". He explains my own
opinion better than I could. And I have only just begun since the book
runs to 428 pages. Gisborne has also written one on the "duties of men",
and since it has not been reprinted, it is harder to obtain (that translates
into costly). Now I know why our Lady approved of Gisborne. I will
get some definite ideas about "feminism" too. I do recommend it - well, it
suits my taste.
Linda
Dear Voices,
Keep your fingers crossed, I may have finally managed to resolve my internet connection problem. This means I may actually get a chance not only to read what's been going on, but maybe even say something about it.
Oddly enough, I've just read a book that includes some correspondence between Abigail and John Adams regarding women's rights under the constitution that was being written. The 3 letters quoted (2 by Abigail, 1 by John) are strikingly modern in their expression. I've got more to say, but I've also got a cold that's going to put me back to bed here in a minute or two.
Among my other reading has been the first 3 Harry Potter books, and I must say they're quite enjoyable. (There's even a Jane Austen connection--Alan Rickman will be playing Professor Snape.) And several books including Eat The Rich by P.J. O'Rourke, a writer who resembles Mark Twain in more ways than one (who knew Rolling Stone even had a foreign correspondent?)
P.S. to Meister:
Roy visited the "Brown vs Board of Education" National Historic Site which I think he said is a small conference room on the third floor of the courthouse which, not surprisingly, is still in use. He met a "nice elderly lady" who gave him a free stubby holder with "Brown vs Board of Education" on it. It's in with the rest of our travel mementos. I am not making this up.
Cheryl
Dear Cheryl,
Tech problems are a hassle. My printer was out for two weeks and I felt like my right arm was missing. After all that it is still not right, but I can make do. It's too new to buy another one.
I will be waiting for the "Adams Family" report - this stuff has been around
for quite some time. Sounds like you have been busy. And take care
of that cold!
Linda
Dear Cheryl and Linda,
Don't hold back from reading the Constitution (1787). I would never attempt to read a recent act of Congress or of my State Legislature because I know it would be so filled with technical and legal jargon that a normal person could not be expected to make head nor tails of it. That is why those things are written that way. On the other hand, the Constitution was written by the sincere and well-meaning - I mean it is eminently readable for real people, even delightful and interesting. Also, it is not all that long.
It is said that Abigail sent John Adams a small keg of saltpeter during his long stay in Philadelphia for the Constitutional Convention. I believe that the salutations of their letters were addressed to "My dearest friend." Is that true?
James Madison (250th birthday yesterday) came to the convention with an outline for the Constitution, that was called "The Virginia Plan." Some highly intelligent and highly fortuitous tweekings were made by Hamilton (my hero!) and others. Madison was a fine scholar and encapsulated many lessons from classical times as well as from the thinking of the best English philosophers - Locke, etc. The modern Englishman likes to mention that because he forgets that, for most of their lives, those men were British, one might even say "English." I mean that while today's Englishwoman is our English cousin, Austen, Locke, Shakespeare, Fielding, and Swift, for example, are our ancestors. They are as much our intellectual ancestors as for anyone born in modern London. That cannot be said of, say, Charlotte Bronte - bummer!
Dear Folks,
I have often said that my favorite Jane-Austen novels are Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion; in fact, they may well be my favorite novels - period. P&P is, for me, the perfect novel. It is Jane Austen's heart and passion that appeal to me, so Persuasion also would have been perfect if not for a defect. It is that defect that I want to highlight and discuss with you today. The Jane-Austen biographer, Elizabeth Jenkins, noticed the same passage and attempted a justification; I don't wish to justify - on the contrary - however, I will make excuses, that is not the same thing. Jenkins's justification is in Chapter 18 of her biography, Jane Austen. While I don't sign on to that, I found much in that chapter that is compelling and I strongly recommend it to you.
The defect is a mean-spirited passage uncharacteristic of Jane Austen. My excuse for Jane Austen is centered on the simple fact that she had not completely finished the novel - never reached the point when she might have released the manuscript for publication. In other words, I am certain that, given the time, she would have eliminated the defect. One can verify my "fact" from an examination of our Lady's own letters. Jane Austen finished the first draft of the novel in July 1816, exactly one year before her death. We know that she continued to refine the manuscript because she wrote to a niece, in March 1817, that she would have "something ready for publication which may perhaps appear about a twelvemonth hence." In fact, she had only four months to live and much of that time our Lady was debilitated.
The problem centers on a character that we never actually meet, we only hear tell of him. That would be Richard Musgrove, an adult son in the Musgrove family who had gone to sea and had served, for a short time, under Captain Wentworth. He had already died before the action of the novel had begun. It seems that our Lady used this character to endear Wentworth to the Musgroves - in order to justify that family's insistence on Wentworth's visits to Uppercross (and so, into Anne's neighborhood.) What is not so clear is the reason for the unfortunate character our Lady invents for Richard Muscrove.
"The real circumstances of this pathetic piece of family history were, that the Musgroves had had the ill fortune of a very troublesome, hopeless son; and the good fortune to lose him before he reached his twentieth year; that he had been sent to sea because he was stupid and unmanageable on shore; that he had been very little cared for at any time by his family, though quite as much as he deserved; seldom heard of, and scarcely at all regretted, when the intelligence of his death abroad had worked its way to Uppercross, two years before.
He had, in fact, though his sisters were now doing all they could for him, by calling him 'poor Richard,' been nothing better than a thick-headed, unfeeling, unprofitable Dick Musgrove, who had never done anything to entitle himself to more than the abbreviation of his name, living or dead."
Chapter 6
Well, it is one thing to suggest he was troublesome, hopeless, stupid, unmanageable, thick-headed, unfeeling, and unprofitable - but, it quite another to suggest that his death was a "good fortune" to his family. The deaths of Hitler and Ted Bundy were "good fortunes", but that suggestion, in this context, is not the precisely measured disapprobation we all expect from Jane Austen. I found the phrase jarring and mean spirited.
However, that is not the main source of my problem - That wasn't the worst passage - this is. This takes place during a family gathering, which included Captain Wentworth, when Mrs. Musgrove couldn't help recalling her lost son.
" 'Poor dear fellow!' continued Mrs Musgrove; 'he was grown so steady, and such an excellent correspondent, while he was under your care! Ah! it would have been a happy thing, if he had never left you. I assure you, Captain Wentworth, we are very sorry he ever left you.'
There was a momentary expression in Captain Wentworth's face at this speech, a certain glance of his bright eye, and curl of his handsome mouth, which convinced Anne, that instead of sharing in Mrs Musgrove's kind wishes, as to her son, he had probably been at some pains to get rid of him; but it was too transient an indulgence of self-amusement to be detected by any who understood him less than herself; in another moment he was perfectly collected and serious, and almost instantly afterwards coming up to the sofa, on which she and Mrs Musgrove were sitting, took a place by the latter, and entered into conversation with her, in a low voice, about her son, doing it with so much sympathy and natural grace, as shewed the kindest consideration for all that was real and unabsurd in the parent's feelings.
They were actually on the same sofa, for Mrs Musgrove had most readily made room for him; they were divided only by Mrs Musgrove. It was no insignificant barrier, indeed. Mrs Musgrove was of a comfortable, substantial size, infinitely more fitted by nature to express good cheer and good humour, than tenderness and sentiment; and while the agitations of Anne's slender form, and pensive face, may be considered as very completely screened, Captain Wentworth should be allowed some credit for the self-command with which he attended to her large fat sighings over the destiny of a son, whom alive nobody had cared for.
Personal size and mental sorrow have certainly no necessary proportions. A large bulky figure has as good a right to be in deep affliction, as the most graceful set of limbs in the world. But, fair or not fair, there are unbecoming conjunctions, which reason will patronize in vain--which taste cannot tolerate--which ridicule will seize."
Chapter 8
Good Lord! - What was Jane Austen thinking? In Elizabeth Jenkins's notice of this passage, she makes the cogent observation, "The behavior of Captain Wentworth is perfectly natural; he, in fact, appears in a much better light than Jane Austen on this occasion ..." Amen. However, I would quickly add that we must remember that our Lady invented Wentworth and all his actions - the clearest possible indication that Jane Austen would have civilized this passage if ever given the chance.
We all have our mean-spirited moments. I suspect that the more intelligent the mind and the sharper the powers of observation, then the deeper a person will sink at such moments. I also believe that someone reaches the heights of humanity only in the considered, edited thoughts and expressions. That's what novels are - considered, edited thoughts and expressions. And no one, in my experience, has ever achieved a greater height of humanity than in a completed Jane-Austen novel.
That is my only problem with this otherwise great novel with all its subtlety and nuance. (For example, notice that wonderful instance of subtle communication and intimacy between Anne and Captain Wentworth expressed in the passage from Chapter 8 - wonderful!) The troubling passage was merely a bad moment that Jane Austen was never given the opportunity to cross out. On the other hand, if you are determined to justify this passage, then turn to Elizabeth Jenkins for help - and, don't look at me.
Dear Folks,
The Jane-Austen biographer, Elizabeth Jenkins, noticed the same passage and attempted a justification
You quoted two passages - one in Chapter 6 and one in Chapter 8 I will assume that Ms. Jenkins is also talking about both. Not knowing what her justification is, I will relate how I see the passages. I will do a lot of dictionary defining, for my own understanding I am sure you already know the meanings, but I have to keep things straight in my own mind and make sure we are talking about the same thing.
The defect is a mean-spirited passage uncharacteristic of Jane Austen. "Mean-spirited" = petty, small-minded, ungenerous. To use a JA term, may we say "unkind"?
It seems that our Lady used this character [Richard Musgrove] to endear Wentworth to the Musgroves - in order to justify that family's insistence on Wentworth's visits to Uppercross (and so, into Anne's neighborhood.) I can go along with that.
Then you said, What is not so clear is the reason for the unfortunate character our Lady invents for Richard Musgrove. "Invents" is the key word. She could have invented a nice person who died honorably at sea. But for our Jane, that is common place and uninteresting. Her Richard is different and interesting. The "nice" person sounds like something "Hollywood" would invent. IMO Jane went for "real life". My supposition is that she knew someone similar, because all of her characters are people I find around today.
In the passage from Chapter 6 the phrase "and the good fortune to lose him" causes some pain for you. I had previously marked that passage, but not for the reasons you give - namely, "not the precisely measured disapprobation (disapproval) we all expect from Jane Austen" and "mean-spirited" (unkind). I marked it because I knew such a ne'er-do-well and felt the same way about that person. This is not to say that they are unloved, or that it is meant in terms of "good riddance". Yes, it is "jarring" but that is "real life". In the case of serious and painful illness, I have heard it said that death was a "blessing". There are "good" people who think like that; you might call it facing reality. I, personally, cannot fault Jane on her phrasing here.
In the passage in Chapter 8, I agree with you and Elizabeth Jenkins' about Captain Wentworh's behavior. Next, please excuse the assumption (I don't want to put words in your mouth), but I am assuming that you and EJ are upset because Jane appears to be denigrating fat people. I saw that also in my first reading, but I read it again with dictionary in hand.
Does not this quote "Mrs Musgrove was of a comfortable, substantial size, infinitely more fitted by nature to express good cheer and good humour..." reflect an attitude held by society even today? Seems like I remember something of that notion of "fat persons always laughing". (Thinking about it now, they were probably crying on the inside.)
I do have a problem with these three words Jane used: "large fat sighings". They don't seem proper.
Now, for the last paragraph. Personal size and mental sorrow have certainly no necessary proportions. Jane is here contradicting "society's" thinking that fat people tend to be jovial, is she not? Her next sentence asserts this contradiction also: A large bulky figure has as good a right to be in deep affliction, as the most graceful set of limbs in the world.
I have to do a thorough dissection on this next sentence to catch Jane's meaning: But, fair or not fair, there are unbecoming conjunctions, which reason will patronize in vain--which taste cannot tolerate--which ridicule will seize." Bear with me and I will expand that with dictionary definitions (this is for my benefit, I am sure you already know all this.)
But, whether it is fair or not fair, there are unbecoming [unsuitable] conjunctions [combinations, bound in close association] which reason [mental powers] will patronize [support] in vain --which taste [personal attitude and ideas] cannot tolerate--which [those (not Jane) who] ridicule [others] will seize [take hold of].
Put all together it reads: But, whether it is fair or not fair, there are unsuitable combinations, bound in close association, which people's mental powers will form in vain--which their personal attitude and ideas cannot tolerate--which those [not Jane] who ridicule others will take hold of.
In that sentence, is she or is she not, saying that fat people are not necessarily always "jovial", in contradiction to "society's" thinking that they are? Is that mean-spirited (unkind)? If it is unkind, then be so kind as to 'splain it, please. It's late and I have to get up early to catch Colin Firth on the Today show this morning. So, Good night!
Dear Linda,
I warned you that you would be unhappy with my posting. I seem to recall that you promised to be patient with me.
Elizabeth Jenkins did not share my problem with the excerpt from Chapter 6. Also, she had a problem with another passage still that doesn't bother me at all - on the contrary. I will be posting on that in the near future. But, all this badly distorts a simple truth; you and I are in substantial agreement with each other - and with Elizabeth Jenkins - on all matters Jane Austen, especially on all matters of Persuasion. I have described only molehills in my posting. I am merely trying to clear the table in order to begin a discussion of those more substantial matters.
That said, I would still observe that your reaction is much like Elizabeth Jenkins's. The two of you wish to read those passages and then imagine some reason why they should not - would not have been edited away. You seem to interpret those passages as Jane Austen's attempt to write counter to ordinary conventions, while Miss Jenkins thought that Jane Austen was reacting to a common kind of hypocrisy. Neither of you has convinced me.
I prefer to see those passages as mistakes, slips of the quill, then excuse Jane Austen, and wish that our Lady would have lived long enough to have gone over that part of the manuscript one more time.
Let me try to test your resolve. Suppose that Jane Austen had put those words into the mouth of Anne Elliot. Suppose, say, that Anne said those things in a conversation with Lady Russell. Pause a moment and try to imagine it. What is your reaction now? Are you more forgiving of the authorial voice than you would be of the good, wise, sweet, and intelligent Anne Elliot?
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