Diane wrote: “Why do we cede so much authority to Mr.
Knightley? He is older--but so, of course, is Miss Bates--he has property
(though we always operate--or I do--with the suspicion he is short of ready
cash) and of course, he's juxtaposed against Mr. Woodhouse, an incompetent
paterfamilias ...I am fascinated by how equivocal, how biting, how
double-edged, is Austen's prose. “
I am by no means the only Austen
scholar to seriously question Mr. Knightley’s apparent authority, and to argue
that JA intended her readers to do likewise, and to see Knightley as what
General Tilney might have seemed like to an extremely uncritical observer
(i.e., Emma). He’s overbearing, unconsciously sexist, dogmatic, easily angered,
and somewhat prone to pedophilia. But when viewed through Emma’s rose colored
glasses, he’s a hero. Allison Sulloway was the first, way back in 1976, to see
Knightley as he really is. And Wendy Moffat did a great job in the same vein in
1991.
Diane also wrote: “Emma's
hospitality shines against her father's whose ideas of entertaining conflict
with his conviction that it is healthy for his guests to be starved--his desire
not to feed his guests to safeguard their health has a sharp undercurrent if we
understand they are coming to dinner to get fed--the implication behind the
Bateses is that they would quickly go hungry if not for the invitations and food
donations of their neighbors. This makes Mr. Woodhouse's desire to withhold
food grim and dark as well as comic.”
Indeed, excellent catch, Diane! We
are entering into the exact same territory as John Dashwood’s faux solicitude
and concern for his stepmother and stepsisters the Dashwood women:
“…whatever I may
give them occasionally will be of far greater assistance than a yearly
allowance, because they would only enlarge their style of living if they felt
sure of a larger income, and would not be sixpence the richer for it at the end
of the year. It will certainly be much the best way. A present of fifty pounds,
now and then, will prevent their ever being distressed for money, and will, I
think, be amply discharging my promise to my father."
This grotesque “less is more”
pretzel logic is worthy of modern day “trickle down” economics. The delusions
of the rich who think they are being most generous to those less well off when they
withhold valuables from them!
And this is another great example of
how JA shapes different readerly responses to the identical situation. With
John and Fanny Dashwood, JA layers the irony on so thick, by making the greed
and selfishness so blatant, that it is impossible for any reader to miss what
JA wants us to think about him—Fanny Dashwood we all recognize as fully
cognizant of how she is conning her husband, but we all recognize John as a
perfect example of banal evil, a man who does great harm while sincerely thinking
himself very generous every step of the way.
But with Mr. Woodhouse, JA gives us
the story from Emma’s point of view, so there is not any sign in the narration
that it would be grotesque to give tiny portions of food to people who haven’t
had a square meal in a long while.
And now I will repay your insight,
Diane, with a companion insight of my own, inspired by yours. Now that I think
about it, the irony of Mr. Woodhouse’s delusion as to his own generosity is
magnified a thousandfold, because we all know Mr. Woodhouse’s go-to catch
phrase, the one he used constantly---POOR!!!!
Poor Miss Taylor, the poor horses, poor James, poor Isabella, poor Mr.
Woodhouse, poor Harriet, poor Mrs. Weston, etc etc etc--- but, curiously, Mr.
Woodhouse never utters the words “Poor Miss Bates”, even though she is the one
person close to Mr. Woodhouse who actually deserves that description!
And so now we can see Mr. Woodhouse’s
trademark withholding of food as inextricably linked to his trademark
exclamation of compassion. In short, the man who does not stop talking about the
poverty of those around him who are not poor, is the same man who also talks endlessly about denying others who
are poor the most basic good that poverty makes scarce---food—and isn’t that
the quintessential example of talking out of both sides of one’s mouth at the
same time?
And, as if we didn’t already know, we
soon confirm beyond the shadow of a doubt that Emma has not only never left
Highbury her entire life, she also metaphorically has not fallen one inch from the family tree, philanthropically
speaking. She constantly pats herself on her own back for her generosity to
Harriet, and then takes Harriet along on her charitable errand to a poor sick
neighbor. Note that Emma’s concern for those poor souls does not even survive
her turning the corner after leaving:
"Very true," said Harriet.
"Poor creatures! one can think of nothing else."
"And really, I do not think the
impression will soon be over," said Emma, as she crossed the low hedge,
and tottering footstep which ended the narrow, slippery path through the
cottage garden, and brought them into the lane again. "I do not think it
will," stopping to look once more at all the outward wretchedness of the place,
and recall the still greater within.
"Oh! dear, no," said her
companion.
They walked on. The lane made a
slight bend; and when that bend was passed, Mr. Elton was immediately in sight;
and so near as to give Emma time only to say farther,
"Ah! Harriet, here comes a very
sudden trial of our stability in good thoughts. Well, (smiling,) I hope it may
be allowed that if compassion has produced exertion and relief to the
sufferers, it has done all that is truly important. If we feel for the
wretched, enough to do all we can for them, the rest is empty sympathy, only
distressing to ourselves."
Harriet could just answer, "Oh!
dear, yes," before the gentleman joined them. The wants and sufferings of
the poor family, however, were the first subject on meeting. He had been going
to call on them. His visit he would now defer; but they had a very interesting
parley about what could be done and should be done. Mr. Elton then turned back
to accompany them.
"To fall in with each other on
such an errand as this," thought Emma; "to meet in a charitable
scheme; this will bring a great increase of love on each side. I should not
wonder if it were to bring on the declaration. It must, if I were not here. I
wish I were anywhere else."
Mr. Bennet, for all his flaws, at
least knows himself well enough, and is honest enough, to recognize and
acknowledge that his own stunted conscience will quickly subside, and his
guilty feelings will melt away soon---but Mr. Woodhouse and Emma are both
beyond oblivious to their own stunted consciences. And guess what, Knightley’s
no better, he just knows right from wrong, and so is able to pretend better to
be doing right.
And so, once Knightley and Emma are
married, as Reginald Hill imagined so well 25 years ago, that means “POOR Emma!”
Cheers, ARNIE
@JaneAustenCode on Twitter
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