By a lucky bit of serendipity, I now
have a true story to tell that unites Valentine's Day (a holiday which of
course famously played a key part in the romantic plot of Jane Austen’s Emma),
a great English author whose writing JA
knew and loved, and a much less significant author with only two degrees
of personal separation from JA, whose writing was known to JA, and who in turn
expressed admiration for JA’s writing,
and did so in print.
Before I reveal the identity of this
mystery literary admirer of JA’s writing (those who know JA’s biography well
might well deduce his or her identity from the data I already provided above),
I will tell my little story of serendipity.
As I write this post, my wife and I
are both sitting in our living room, and
a few feet away from us, on a low table,
sits a tall vase which contains the array of flowers which I recently gave her
for Valentine’s Day. It was a bigger
one than I had ever previously given her, and it included
a half dozen different kinds of flowers, including a couple of very tall birds
of paradise (or are they all very tall?). Here is a photo I just took of it:
Anyway, she was just talking on the phone and describing the flowers favorably—which of course made me happy--when suddenly, due to the insidious influence of my studying too many Austenian and Shakespearean puns, and doing too many of Will Shortz’s crossword puzzles, over the past decade, the punny phrase “Bard of Paradise” popped into my head.
Anyway, she was just talking on the phone and describing the flowers favorably—which of course made me happy--when suddenly, due to the insidious influence of my studying too many Austenian and Shakespearean puns, and doing too many of Will Shortz’s crossword puzzles, over the past decade, the punny phrase “Bard of Paradise” popped into my head.
And almost immediately thereafter,
I realized that if that were a crossword
puzzle clue, the answer would (obviously)
be John Milton, given that he was one
of history’s greatest poets, whose greatest works were entitled “Paradise Lost”and “Paradise Regained”!
My next step was clear—I knew I could
not be the first person to think of this pun, it was just too good, and too
likely to pop into someone’s mind over the past
320 years. And sure enough, there were a couple of modern scholarly references,
in passing, to same.
However, the most interesting Google
hit, to me, was one written by the mystery man I described above, in an 1835 edition
of Milton’s poetical works:
“It is unnecessary to copy the
opinion which Johnson gives of "L' Allegro" and "Il Penseroso,"
because it is in every one's hands. Johnson yet allows that "they are two noble
efforts of imagination." — They would be noble for a common poet; but not
comparatively for Milton: I cannot allow them that high invention which belongs
to the bard of "Paradise Lost." “
So, this mysterious editor disagreed
with the approval of two of Milton’s
well known poems expressed by Samuel Johnson
in his vastly influential Lives of the Most Eminent English Poets, because this editor would
reserve the highest accolades for Paradise Lost.
Now, did the writer know that he was
making a pun (or as Johnson famously put it, a “quibble”) on “bard of paradise”?
The term “bird of paradise”, to refer to
actual birds, was already well established in English decades before 1835.
But…my vote at this point is that
the writer of the above quoted passage,
whom I know to have a pompous humorless fool
who lusted after status, was not very likely to be a playful punster. And
now it is time tor reveal his identity
to those who have not already guessed
it-- who else but Egerton Brydges, the clownishly pretentious rank-obsessed brother
of Madam Lefroy, aunt of Tom Lefroy and close friend of Jane Austen during JA’s
JA’s teen years and young adulthood!
The pity is that JA did not live to
read Brydges’s inadvertent pun, one which would have vastly amused JA, who
wrote the following to her niece, Anna Austen Lefroy (yes, Anna married a young
man from that same Lefroy family!), in an 1814 letter, about Anna’s novel-in-writing (which alas she never finished and burned in
frustration):
“Your Aunt C[assandra] quite understands the
exquisiteness of that name -- Newton Priors is really a nonpareil. Milton would
have given his eyes to have thought of it. “
I think JA would have given a lot to
have read Egerton Brydges’s
inadvertent quibble on John
Milton and his noblest creations, Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained.
And that is the end of my little Valentine’s mystery, which grew
from a frivolous little seed into a noble flower with, I hope, a pleasing scent
and appearance. If you will, this is my Valentine to all who
honor me by reading along in this blog.
Cheers, ARNIE
@JaneAustenCode on Twitter
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