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9/28/01 Jennifer - [coalwell@burgoyne.com] Emma Thompson

Dear Ashton,

I am not a male, first, and second, I know this is six years after the fact.  But I just discovered you, so, sorry.  These are my two cents:  you called Emma Thompson's adaptation of Sense and Sensibility a--was it "chick-flick"?  I don't think those were the exact words, but it was something like that.  Well, you're probably right.  I am a chick, and a long-time fan of Jane Austen, ever since I read Pride and Prejudice as a young adolescent, and I can see that your criticisms of the Emma Thompson movie were all more or less accurate.  Yet, while I can see your point, for some reason I still ended up loving the movie, and I just wanted to say so.  Just from reading around in your site, I can guess that you're not the kind of person who assesses the merit of a movie based on its overall emotional impact on you.  It is a very chick-like thing to do, to be sure.  Nevertheless, I am a chick, as I said before, and a chick with a sister to whom I am very close, and every time I watch this movie, it leaves me with a warm fuzzy feeling.  Not very scientific, I suppose, but I don't care about that, nor about the fact that my reaction is probably due to the swelling strains of the score at those sisterly moments (the beauty of which you failed to mention) and music always manipulates me very successfully.  I mean, why else would I CRY at the end of E.T., a movie with a rubber puppet?  It's all John Williams' fault.

One other thing that I do disagree with you about is the argument you make about the financial situation of regency-era women.  I can hardly believe your line of reasoning.  Yes, there were a few women who had the luck to either be born to very wealthy parents who evidently had few enough sons that all their assets were miraculously not used up, or else married very wealthy men whose estates were not entailed.  My understanding of the situation at the time, however, is that when a woman married, her dowry was no longer legally hers, and was kept for her only if her husband was good enough to leave it alone.  As everyone knows, one of the BIG THEMES in Jane Austen's books is that, for the majority of women, who had not been born into financial independence, there were only two acceptable options, either depend on male relatives or make a suitable match. Just as you said, where there are good, upstanding male relatives, and the situation in the parental home is not bad, as in Jane Austen's case, then I think she thought that was bearable, although some of the analyses I have read of the Austen home lead me to believe that things were not as idyllic as you suggest, especially where Mrs. Austen was concerned.  But in Sense and Sensibility she very astutely explores the alternative, where there is no male relative willing to step forward and do his duty.  In Pride and Prejudice, she looks at the quandary between staying with Mrs. Bennet, were she to one day be widowed, and in severely straitened circumstances, bearing the brunt of her nerves and demands all day long, or else seeking the hope of a greater degree of independence and autonomy as the mistress of a husband's estate.  For us twenty-first century people, it's difficult to understand why employment was such anathema, but to view the phenomenon with our modern attitudes is as bad an imposition of our own values as any of the examples you mentioned in your criticisms of the movies you hated.

Thus, we see Austen's heroines in the difficult situation of needing to marry, and not wanting to have it be to someone they can't respect, let alone love.  The only people more powerless were the servants that waited upon them.  In Sense and Sensibility, Marianne's hope for the only kind of marriage she had ever believed endurable is shattered.  Instead, she marries a man she considers respectable and kind, for financial security.  What worse fate could someone of her "sensibilities" suffer?  I found one of the most telling differences between the book and movie was that in the book it is Elinor who tells Marianne that Willoughby would eventually have come to rank the demands of his pocketbook over those of his heart, while in the movie, it is Marianne who says it.  There is a world of difference between realizing something for yourself and having someone else lecture you about it.  Maybe you have to be someone like Marianne to really understand how huge a disappointment such a marriage of convenience would be, and how uncharactistically idealistic it is for Austen to wrap everything up all right and tight in the last pages of her otherwise masterful book.  The Marianne we have come to know would not be able to bear such an arrangement, no matter how much she may have matured as a result of her trials. Every gurgle Colonel Brandon makes when he chews his food, every bad odor he exudes, every added wrinkle and ache, every solicitude toward his young bride when what she really wants is a man who challenges and stands up to her--these things will only augment her original feelings of distaste about marriage with Brandon, not decrease them as the book optimistically suggests. Perhaps it is Jane Austen's lack of actual experience with relationships, or perhaps she is too different from Marianne herself, but for some reason she seems to believe that Marianne could grow to love Colonel Brandon.  Certainly, Elinor might have been able to, but then, she's a different personality type.  And maybe Colonel Brandon is an unusually spectacular lover!  That would make a big difference.

In conclusion, I very much agree with you about the Mansfield Park film, and the old black-and-white of Pride and Prejudice.  What a complete load of rot.  However, I also really hated the Gwynneth Paltrow version of Emma, which you found passable.  I thought it absolutely stunk, like my dog's breath.  So, thanks for letting me spout off.  Please excuse that I don't know how to underline or italicize with this browser.

9/28/01 Ashton - We are not as far apart as you seem to think

Dear Jennifer,

I agree with a great deal of what you say; although, you are wrong where you suggest that I didn't appreciate those "sisterly moments" or the high technical quality of Thompson's film. In fact, one of my main complaints is that Thompson cut the last portion of the novel in which those very moments are emphasized. She substituted some schmaltzy scenes which I labeled as chick-book stuff. It was to those scenes and only those scenes that I applied that term. I hope you realize, I was referring to her intent and not to women readers. It seems to me that this intent shows contempt for women readers that I do not share. I have lived with a woman reader for more than 45 years and she quite shares my reaction to Thompson's sappy, revisionist ending.

Let's talk about the financial situation of women in Jane Austen's time. I hope you will post back - many times. For example, you might wish to explicity explain which of my remarks you disagree with in this regard. My limited understanding is that a "dowry" is, by definition, something that went to the husband. However, I think that you and others confuse "dowry" with "fortune." Whether or not any part of a woman's existing fortune, or her father's, was included in the dowry was perfectly arbitrary and was settled at the time the marriage contract was signed. You might start to take my view of things by considering the case of Eliza Williams in Sense and Sensibility (not the revisionist version in the film.) It is quite clear that Eliza retained her fortune after her husband divorced her because of her adultery. Also, read Jane Austen's fragment, Sanditon, where our Lady describes a woman who withheld all of her fortune from the husband. In Maria Edgeworth's Belinda, we learn of a married woman who inherited several fortunes from her family (and then squandered them) with no part of it going to the husband.

So, you can see that I do not believe your suggestion that
"As everyone knows, one of the BIG THEMES in Jane Austen's books is that, for the majority of women, who had not been born into financial independence, there were only two acceptable options, either depend on male relatives or make a suitable match.
I think that a common fallacy - there is no basis for that. Also, what you don't seem to notice is that the other aspects of the situation you describe for women of that class apply equally well to younger sons - anything you might say about Elizabeth Bennet applies equally well to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Also, did you not notice that, say, each of the Bingley sisters had 20,000 pounds inheritance? Darcy's sister's was 30,000 pounds. My estimate is that 20,000 pounds then had the purchasing power of about $6,000,000 of current American dollars. I can give countless other examples. The simple truth is that, then as now, fathers tend to love their daughters - as often as not, more than their sons - and provide for them.

If I have any of this wrong, please correct me.

I include italics, links, and other things as I edit the postings. However, you can indicate, say, italics to me by placing the symbols, [i], on both sides of a sentence or phrase you want italicized. The same with underline, etc.

Let me conclude by teasing you a bit. I hope you will rethink your comments about Brandon. There is nothing in the text to justify your view - if anything, you contradict the authorial voice. Worse yet, you are projecting a negative male stereotype.

9/26/01 Linda - Preliminary Comments on Malthus

Dear Voices,

My library copy of Malthus' Essay on the Principle of Population was the Norton Critical edition.  The librarian could not understand why anyone would want to read such a dry sounding book.  I am thoroughly enjoying it.

The first Part was "Influences on Malthus" including references on David Hume, Robert Wallace, Adam Smith, Condorcet, and William Godwin.  They all seem to have a common thread, namely the "perfectibility of mankind".  To quote the Meister, in reference to the debate between Malthus and Godwin:
"But their debate was not about religion; rather, it was about the potential and destiny of mankind.  In particular, the debate was about the limits to growth of human population numbers."

What surprised me most was that Malthus, the clergyman, only mentioned a "Supreme Being" in passing.  It seems I read some where that he was more of a mathematician than clergyman. What he did not mention is that, according to the Bible, it is impossible for man to 'perfect' himself.

Being aware of the limitations of religious knowledge available at that time, I can understand why he did not mention God's purpose and plan for mankind.  He simply did not know what it was. Or rather, what he thought it was, was not true.  If he had known His Plan, there would have not been a necessity for his "Essay".  Gosh, that statement just about dismisses his writing as irrelevant!  But before I do that, I must say that I do consider what he wrote as a very good analysis of the human condition, and a description of how man should use his powers to be a faithful steward of earth's bounty.

Here are some random comments.

In the Introduction by Philip Appleman, he says:
"Our hopes for the future condition of the human race," wrote Condorcet, "can be subsumed under three important heads: the abolition of inequality between nations, the progress of equality within each nation, and the true perfection of mankind."

I am sorry but to me that is a completely impossible task for Man.  Just look at History, and I rest my case.  Wait a minute, let me backtrack before I put words in his mouth; Condorcet said "our hopes" - he did not say that Man himself is trying to do it.  But the implication is there and in all the others.

The Meister said:
"However, the short study I am proposing will give us still another idea of the considerable intellectual ferment of her [Jane Austen's] time.
"Ferment" indeed, I am learning daily and that is why I am so glad you brought this subject up.  So far I have gotten through 3 chapters and feel that I must finish it.  I do not find it 'dry' at all!

In his "Essay" did he consider that there are remote islands with people and have they ever suffered from over population?

My dear Meister, you did write a very worthwhile 'page'.  I had a 'snicker' at your 'unleashing' of pent-up fertility, but you lost me in the mish-mash of Malthus' mathematics! Being mathematically challenged, I skipped the clutter!  BTW my thoughts are 'under construction' also.

Thanks and Onward!
Linda

9/26/01 Ashton - Did Jane Austen "let other pens dwell on ..."?

"Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery. I quit
such odious subjects as soon as I can, ..."

Jane Austen, Mansfield Park
lead paragraph, final chapter

Dear Linda,

Thank you for beginning this interesting discussion of a particular aspect of Jane Austen's time.

You call attention to my third page on this subject, and, as you point out, that is a work in progress - barely an outline of what I hope to cover. (Some topics appear with only a heading at present!) I wondered if I should make this preliminary sketch available to the community because it is so preliminary. Also, I always want to remember that the subject is Jane Austen, and I might tend to lead us a little astray with that page if I am not careful. But then I remembered that I must never place much value on any draft of my ideas, and I must always place great value on the discussions and debates we might hold within our small community. Also, community debate will help me complete the first draft of this work in progress. So, you see, I am very interested in your preliminary or post-preliminary opinions. Yours or anyone else's - anyone else's.

Malthus first published in 1798, when Jane Austen was 23 years old and 13 years before our Lady would publish her first novel. If one takes that quote from Mansfield Park seriously, then he might guess that Jane Austen avoided Malthus. (I can point to an irony; if one continues on to the remainder of that chapter, he will find that our Lady's pen did dwell on a good deal of misery in the cases of Maria Bertram, the Crawfords, etc.)

This is a coincidence - Are you watching that series Evolution on PBS? The first two hours are devoted to Charles Darwin, and both Jane Austen and Malthus are referred to there. The important influence of Malthus on Darwin is dramatized; I might say more about that some other time. When Darwin is shown courting his cousin, and eventual wife, she is shown expressing the typical religious view that any theory of evolution could never explain so many complex things that exist in nature - she would rather occupy herself with the "novels of Miss Austen." This expresses the modern view that Jane Austen is a woman's author and the old view that religion is for women. The truth is that Charles Darwin - indeed, all the Darwin men - liked Jane Austen as well as any woman reader. In fact, here is a link to what Darwin's son said about our Lady.

Malthus studied math as a student and he took orders; but, I wouldn't call Malthus a clergyman or a mathematician - I think of him as a political economist. In that sense, he was like Karl Marx, whose official calling was as a journalist, but whose real interest was political economy. Malthus gave up his "living" and spent most of his life on the faculty of a "school" provided by the East-India Company to young men about to leave to administer the colonies. Sounds dreary, doesn't it? In any case, don't let the mathematics get in the way; I included that bit because I think mathematics is beautiful; but, as I explained, the mathematics of Malthus is peripheral to his reasoning and can be skipped over.

Are you suggesting that everything is preordained? That seems to be what you are suggesting. Is it your view that man has no free will, no ability to influence the future?

I won't try to reply to all your questions all at once because I have already taken up too much space. I conclude by mulling over your question about over-population on islands. I don't think that it is strictly correct to think of Malthus as a doomsayer. In fact, he spent most of his essay describing the way that doom is avoided by the preventative checks (marrying later, fewer children, etc.) His main point is that the passion between the sexes - one might add to this the love of children - is so intense and so consistent that populations are always at the very brink of overpopulation at which point the checks kick in. I believe that he is quite correct in this. If true, then every island population is at the brink of overpopulation. One check is emigration - the young, less well established could sail away to find other space. This is the driving force that brought the Polynesians to populate the Pacific. Perhaps the most relevant particular example is Easter Island where true overpopulation did occur, but not because the islanders were not careful enough with their fertility. There the physical infrastructure was destroyed so that a population level once comfortable became too many.

Another interesting example is North America. Before Columbus, the continent must have been fully populated - at the brink of overpopulation - because there were so many conflicts between different native groups for territory. However, the continent seemed virtually empty to Europeans because they exploited the land differently, they could support far more people per square mile. In other words, "overpopulation" is a relative term and is a number dependent on the culture's technical capability. My view is that where we see large population growth over long periods, we are, in effect, witnessing a growth in technical capability. No one else, as far as I know, believes that.

9/18/01 Linda - G.K. Chesterton and "trivialities"

Dear Ash,

Only recently have I become aware of G.K. Chesterton, and at the recent library discard book sale I picked up his book Generally Speaking.  I do believe I will like him, especially since he had such nice things to say about our Lady.

However, I wish to take exception with your remark about his suggestion of 'trivialities' in her novels.  This is hard to explain and I don't know if I can do it, even to my own satisfaction, but I will try.

My 'sense' is that he spoke of "trivialities" meaning she wrote of things most people would consider as lesser events and things - everyday life (not war, etc.) but not in the sense that these small things were unimportant.  It is those very 'trivialities' which are important to us.  I hope that makes some sense.  There is that nuance of meaning wafting through my mind which is hard to pin down - but I tried.
Linda

9/18/01 Ashton - I think you are right, but ...

Dear Linda,

I think you are absolutely right, but we must hold folks accountable for what they actually say and not give too much credit for what they might have intended to say. That, by the way, is the reason this place is a bulletin board and not a chat room. I mean, I like to give others, as well as myself, a little space of time for reflection before they speak.

To me, "trivialities" is a pejorative term. "Mild events" might have been a slightly better choice since Jane Austen never wrote about events which might shake an entire community because they were so dramatic and unusual. She did not write of the abduction of beautiful young women or of a pyromaniac wife secreted away in an attic. I know that you agree with me that a "mild event" might go unnoticed by most of an assembly while, at the same time, being momentous and passionate for a particular individual. There is nothing trivial about such things. It was that sort of every-day kind of drama that interested Jane Austen and all Janites ever since.

Chesterton left us a mixed bag. At times he was quite profound, while, at other times, his attitude was - well - unfortunate. Overall, I am glad that I am acquainted with his thoughts - the good ones.

9/19/01 Bruce - GK "unfortunate"?

Dear Ashton et. al.,

It's good to see the board up and running again. Hello to all.  Chesterton had some political ideas that, by modern standards, seem horribly repressive.  He opposed women's suffrage, for example.  However, I think we are "fortunate" (rather than "un") that he did.  Some of his essays opposing votes for women are hilariously funny, entirely reasonable (if wrong), and remind us that intelligent, warm-hearted, reasonable people once supported political positions which, today, we find wrong-headed and even evil.

9/20/01 Ashton - GK and other guilty pleasures

Dear Bruce,

It's great to hear from you again.

I believe that you and I think alike on Chesterton. I like many of his ideas but can never discuss them with anyone because some of his other ideas are unacceptable. It's a bit like not being able to discuss my liking for The Sopranos. Although the excuse I have been using in the latter case is that the The Sopranos is a modern-day tale remotely similar to Macbeth. Sometimes I believe my rationalization, other times I wonder.

I had this really good friend that I met in Junior College. We played football together before he left because of poor grades. I was seventeen and he was eighteen. He was Irish-Catholic and his home was very ethnic (after the mother died, the dad entered a monastery). J. was raised in San Francisco and I about forty miles north in a sleepy little ranching community. He taught me how to find my way to the theatre; we saw all the musicals then current (Pajama Game, Damn Yankees!, etc.) We were good friends but he would often shock me. For example, we would stop for dinner in SF and he would park anywhere he damned pleased. When we returned to the car, he would have earned two or three parking tickets which he would then distribute on the windshields of neighboring cars. He explained that people never read those tickets, they just paid them. The thing that bothered me the most is, what kind of a mind thinks up these things?

In one of our games we played against a defensive lineman that had been selected All-America Junior College the previous year. My friend, J., played opposite him. A commotion broke out early in the first quarter and the All-America was thrown out of the game. J. came back to the huddle with a big welt on his face where the guy had slugged him (we played without face masks in those days). He proudly announced that he had provoked the fight by using racial slurs - the opponent was African-American. The rest of us were stunned, no one knew what to say. The way he provoked the fight was the main problem; but even if the guy had been white, we would have had problems with the ethics of eliminating an opponent that way. But, it was like Chesterton, J. had a good heart - usually - and was a good, loyal, bright, entertaining friend. So, what was to be done other than scolding him (which never really bothered him)? Basically, we all loved the guy.

I have a mulatto daughter and my grandson is Mexican, African-American, and Irish-Catholic; so, I could never countenance a friend like that now. I guess the lesson is that racism is not supported merely by easily identified rednecks. Since that time J. has earned a million dollars at least twice and then lost it all. I still like him, but we never visit him. By the bye, he was slugged one other time - my then girl friend (now my wife) slugged him in the library at that Junior College. I hasten to add that my wife likes him too - now. Also, as far as I know, that was the only time in her life that she ever struck another human being.

9/21/01 Bruce - [bschennum@quantumhealth.com] More on Chesterton

Dear Ashton,

You sound like you have an interesting life, Ashton.  I have an idea for a short story (probably long since written by someone else) in which the two main characters are a politically correct civil rights worker, who actually hates all black people he meets, because he hates everyone he meets, and a redneck bigot, who actually likes all black people he meets, because he likes everyone he meets.

Chesterton's genius as an essayist was that he always saw things from a slightly different angle than his readers.  He would say things like "the problem for women is not that they have too little political power, but that they have too much."  He claimed that he never was funny on purpose.  Instead, he simply tried to argue his point, but ended up surprising his readers with his wit.

His novels and short stories, while good, never really captured the essential Chesterton, the good nature, the humor, and the rhetorical instinct.  He was a brilliant literary critic.  His books on Dickens and Shaw were great, as were his biographies of Assisi and Acqinas. I have a book of his newspaper columns from 1905-09 and he was undoubtedly one of the great journalists.

In one famous story, the rotund Chesterton was debating the rail-thin vegetarian George Bernard Shaw. "If I were as fat as you are, Mr. Chesterton, I would hang myself," said Shaw.
"If I ever decide to hang myself," replied Chesterton, "I'll use you as a rope."

9/20/01 The Meister - The considerable creativity of Jane Austen's family: A focus on the mother.

Dear Folks,

I begin by referring to a short volume

Very little of this "poetry" was composed with any pretension. There are no attempts at vivid imagery, no imaginative metaphors or allegories, no literate allusions to classical mythology or Italian literature. In short, all of it was accessible and intended for consumption entirely within the family. Although, one senses that oldest brother, James Austen, dearly would have loved to have been a published author; but, as we all know, the opportunities for men in those days were severely limited or proscribed. Poor James might only take comfort, instead, in the astonishing success of baby sister - and he did just that.

Most of the poems are intended as humor and they work very well in that regard. Other efforts have more poignancy as they mark, say, a death in the family. Of course, Jane's are the most impressive; but, there is a close second - a very close second - the efforts of Jane Austen's mother, Cassandra (Leigh) Austen. (Jane's sister was Cassandra Elizabeth Austen.) Jane Austen was not some intellectual cuckoo deposited, somehow, in a dullard's nest. Rather, our Lady was a representative of her family, indeed, a crystallization of all that was good in that line. One sees that everywhere in the poetry collection, but most clearly in the mother's. If you pick up Selwyn's collection, you will come to agree with me I expect.

That begs the question, why do we read so little of the mother in the biographies? Why have scholars manifested so little interest in this woman? I suspect that the answer to that lies in Jane Austen's letters. I mean, our Lady gives little enough credit to her mom, and that may have misled scholars to neglect what may have been the most important familial influence. It is not what Jane Austen says about her mother so much as what she does not say in those letters. Our Lady lived with both Cassandras, mom and sister, literally for her entire life and her letters are full of deference and praise for sis and nonesuch for mom. I do not suspect that Jane Austen disliked her mother. She may have even loved her mom dearly, but there seems to have been no opportunity to express that love in her letters - the letters that still exist.

Of course, we must remember that Jane Austen had absolutely no idea that so many of us would be poking into her letters - horrors! I mean that if our Lady had had any idea that so many noses would be poking around in her affairs, she might very well have given mother a full appreciation. Also, with three women in a single household, there might have been plenty of opportunity for minor vexation. In that regard, I should add that a clear impression is that sister was compliant and mom was not. I mean that Mother Austen may have been as strong willed as Jane herself and that, quite naturally, might have set up some minor tensions. That sort of thing can color attitudes that are not the same thing as underlying, fundamental feelings. I am trying to say that Jane Austen and her mother may have been very much alike and that might not always have been a good thing.

There are some complaints in Jane Austen's letters. Apparently, mother was a bit of a hypochondriac and - maybe - a bit of a malingerer. There were other trivial complaints. When Pride and Prejudice was first published by an unknown author, Jane had an uniformed neighbor in and the two of them were taking turns with mother reading the book aloud to each other. Jane must have been very curious about the way this unsuspecting reviewer would judge the work, was very disappointed in the way Mrs. Austen read her part, and complained of the failure in a letter to sister. Well, I can understand Jane Austen's extreme agitation on the occassion, but she was hardly describing child abuse. There were things like that.

And, who knows, maybe Mrs. Austen preferred sons - it happens. I hope some scholar somewhere sometime will do the obvious thing and research mumsy.