I’ve
been saying for some time that Andrew Davies is an even sharper elf than he’s
been given credit for in giving us the great gift of his four Austen film
adaptations (and when if ever will he wave his magic cinematic wand over Mansfield Park and Persuasion?). In particular, I not only strenuously contest the
common assertion that his adaptations have overly sexed up Jane Austen’s
novels, I assert the opposite: i.e., that there’s a great deal more eroticism just under the surface in
all of JA’s fiction, and so Davies’s occasional sexualized scenes are actually tame
representations of what Austen actually intended.
Today,
I’m back with another sly Davies gem, which I only recently fully grasped. One
of the many romantic moments in Andrew Davies’s 1995 P&P occurs when Eliza
sings an aria that entrances Darcy in the Pemberley salon: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_GHm4MK6F1Y Singing
in English, the lyrics perfectly describe the surprisingly powerful love for
Darcy that has seized Eliza’s heart, a love of which she cannot quite make
sense:
You who know what love is, Ladies, see if I have it in my heart.
I'll tell you what I'm feeling, It's new for me, and I understand nothing.
I have a feeling, full of desire, Which is by turns delightful and miserable.
I freeze and then feel my soul go up in flames, Then in a moment I turn to ice.
I'm searching for affection outside of myself, I don't know how to hold it, nor even what it is!
I sigh and lament without wanting to, I twitter and tremble without knowing why,
I find peace neither night nor day, But still I rather enjoy languishing this way.
You who know what love is, Ladies, see if I have it in my heart.
In
2009, I wrote the following in an email to Richard Jenkyns (Austen descendant,
Oxford prof, and attendee at my 2007 Oxford presentation) about a passage in A Fine Brush on Ivory:
“I just went to see The Marriage of Figaro…I was strongly struck during the first act
by Susannah's concern that Count Almaviva might send Figaro on a wild goose
chase 3 miles away, and then pounce on her--it was strikingly similar to what I
believe Knightley actually does do with Mr. Elton in order to get him out of
the vicarage for several hours (while Mrs Elton is also, not coincidentally,
being entertained by Miss Bates). And
then I was also struck by the Count's attempting to send Cherubino away as an
officer, in order to get him far away from his manor, and connected that dot to
Darcy's arranging for Wickham (who is, like Figaro, very likely the son of the
deceased Count) to be sent out of town as an officer when he marries Lydia.
And then I was also struck by the
situation of cross dressing courtship in The Marriage of Figaro that was so
reminiscent of Twelfth Night. And
that is when…I reread, with new eyes, the section of your book in which you
point out the striking authorial career parallelism between Shakespeare (Twelfth Night and Measure for Measure)
and Austen (P&P and Mansfield Park)
and Mozart (Figaro and Don Giovanni)…”
Then,
a couple of years ago, I posted the following in Janeites & Austen-L about Davies’s
decision to have Elizabeth sing an aria from Figaro in his film:
“…Emily Auerbach wrote at P. 158 of Searching for Jane Austen: “Elizabeth probably shared the thoughts of
Figaro in his daring monologue from Marriage
of Figaro: “Because you’re a great lord, you think you’ve a great mind as
well! Nobility, fortune, rank, power, it makes a man proud. What have you done
to deserve all that? You went to the trouble of being born, nothing more. “ Rest
of that quote: “As for the rest -- you're really rather mediocre. Whereas I? ye
gods! Buried among the nameless crowd, I've had to deploy more skill, more
calculation, simply to survive, than it would take to govern the whole of Spain
for a century!"” And I think Davies
knew of this connection because he has Lizzy sing a love song from The Marriage
of Figaro in his adaptation.,,,”
Many
will recognize, as I did then, that Voi
se chapete comes from The Marriage of
Figaro; but only Mozart opera buffs would know that, in the opera itself,
this particular aria is sung by a female soprano playing a male character—Cherubino —the young page who gets into sticky
romantic wickets. Here’s a video of Frederika von Stade as Cherubino: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7y3_SZqNi4
And, for quick orientation,
here is Wikipedia’s synopsis of the part of Act Two which includes this aria:
“The
Countess laments her husband's infidelity…Susanna comes in to prepare the
Countess for the day. She responds to the Countess's questions by telling her
that the Count is not trying to "seduce" her; he is merely offering
her a monetary contract in return for her affection. Figaro enters and explains
his plan to distract the Count with anonymous letters warning him of
adulterers. He has already sent one to the Count (via Basilio) that indicates
that the Countess has a rendezvous of her own that evening. They hope that the
Count will be too busy looking for imaginary adulterers to interfere with
Figaro and Susanna's wedding. Figaro additionally advises the Countess to keep
Cherubino around. She should dress him up
as a girl and lure the Count into an illicit rendezvous where he can be
caught red-handed. Figaro leaves.
Cherubino
arrives, sent in by Figaro and eager to co-operate. Susanna urges him to sing the song he wrote for the Countess (aria: Voi
che sapete che cosa è amor –
"You ladies who know what love is, is it what I'm suffering from?"). After the song, the Countess,
seeing Cherubino's military commission, notices that the Count was in such a
hurry that he forgot to seal it
with his signet ring (which would be necessary to make it an official
document). They proceed to attire
Cherubino in girl's clothes…and Susanna goes out to fetch a ribbon. While
the Countess and Cherubino are waiting for Susanna to come back, they suddenly
hear the Count arriving. Cherubino hides in the closet. The Count demands to be
allowed into the room and the Countess reluctantly unlocks the door. The Count
enters and hears a noise from the closet. He tries to open it, but it is
locked. The Countess tells him it is only Susanna, trying on her wedding
dress…”
Which brings me to the epiphany I had last
month, while revisiting all of the above re: my seeing Figaro as a source for P&P. My eye was caught by the italicized
sentences in that synopsis. Can those of you who know the text of P&P guess
what specific passage in P&P I was reminded of by “Cherubino” and
“cross-dressing”? As an additional hint, I blogged only 2 months ago about an uncanny
resonance with that same specific
passage in P&P of the following excerpts from JA’s 1801 letter to Cassandra
about JA’s travel to, and then arrival in, Bath:
“…Between Luggershall and Everley we
made our grand meal, and then with admiring astonishment perceived in what a
magnificent manner our support had been provided for. We could not with the
utmost exertion consume above the twentieth part of the BEEF. The CUCUMBER
will, I believe, be a very acceptable present, as my uncle talks of having
inquired the price of one lately, when he was told a shilling….
…The CHAMBERLAYNES are still here. I
begin to think better of Mrs. C----, and upon recollection believe she has
rather A LONG CHIN than otherwise, as she remembers us in Gloucestershire when
we were very charming young women.…My mother has ordered a new BONNET, and so
have I; both white strip, TRIMMED with white ribbon. I find my straw BONNET
looking very much like other people's, and quite as smart. BONNETS of cambric
muslin on the plan of Lady Bridges' are a good deal worn, and some of them are
very pretty; but I shall defer one of that sort till your arrival. …We have had
Mrs. Lillingstone and the CHAMBERLAYNES to call on us. My mother was very
much struck with the ODD LOOKS of the two latter; I have only
seen her. Mrs. Busby drinks tea and plays at cribbage here to-morrow; and
on Friday, I believe, we go to the CHAMBERLAYNES….”
Now, that’s a pretty big hint!---think about
it, and then scroll down for my answer……
SCROLL DOWN…
SCROLL DOWN…
My epiphany was to be reminded by Voi se chapete of the following passage
in Chapter 39 of P&P:
“We dressed up Chamberlayne in woman's clothes
on purpose to pass for a lady, only think what fun! Not a soul knew of it, but
Colonel and Mrs. Forster, and Kitty and me, except my aunt, for we were forced
to borrow one of her gowns; and you cannot imagine how well he looked! When
Denny, and Wickham, and Pratt, and two or three more of the men came in, they
did not know him in the least. Lord! how I laughed! and so did Mrs. Forster. I
thought I should have died. And that made the men suspect something, and
then they soon found out what was the matter."
This of course is Lydia regaling Elizabeth (who
is en route home from Kent) at a roadside inn with sexually suggestive details
of events involving a crossdressed soldier whose name, CHAMBERLAYNE, is very very similar to CHERUBINO! That
scene did not make it into Davies’s 1995 film adaptation, and so it might
appear that Davies had missed its significance, but now I believe, after understanding
that Davies has Ehle sing Cherubino’s aria at Pemberley, that I have caught Davies
in the act of sly greatness, as I now realize that he shifted JA’s Figaro allusion from the roadside inn to
the Pemberley salon.
Skeptical? Well, then, here’s the capper. Recall
what Miss Bingley says to Elizabeth in that very same scene in the novel which
Davies adapted by having Elizabeth sing at Pemberley, singing which, by the
way, does not occur in the novel text:
“…in the imprudence of anger, [Caroline]
took the first opportunity of saying, with sneering civility:
"Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the
——shire Militia removed from Meryton? They must be a great loss to your family."
In Darcy's presence she dared not mention Wickham's name; but Elizabeth
instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts; and the various
recollections connected with him gave her a moment's distress; but exerting
herself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, she presently answered the
question in a tolerably detached tone. While she spoke, an involuntary glance
showed her Darcy, with a heightened complexion, earnestly looking at her, and
his sister overcome with confusion, and unable to lift up her eyes.”
In short, then, Davies connects Figaro to Wickham in a different scene
than JA did. And I also see JA adding some sly wordplay to subliminally
emphasize the connection of Wickham and pal Chamberlayne to Figaro’s oversexed Cherubino. The “cherubim”
of the Bible were, of course, daunting, unearthly beings who do God’s bidding-
and so it is surely no accident that Wickham is referred to twice in P&P as
an “angel”—with the added irony of course, that the Angel of Light in the Bible
is Lucifer!
[Lydia] "You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I
cannot help laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I am
missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall
think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is
an ANGEL…”
All
Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man who, but three months before, had
been almost an ANGEL OF LIGHT. He was declared to be in debt to every tradesman
in the place, and his intrigues, all honoured with the title of seduction, had
been extended into every tradesman's family. Everybody declared that he was the
wickedest young man in the world; and everybody began to find out that they had
always distrusted the appearance of his goodness…
In
conclusion, I will return within the next week with a followup post about some other
significant implications I see in JA having covertly alluded in so shocking a
way to gender-bending in Figaro. But
for today I leave you with this final teaser---the idea that caused me to recently
revisit my long-standing intuition that Figaro
was an important allusive source for P&P, was my sense of the shadow
Darcy as a version of Figaro’s Count
Almaviva – more specifically, my sense that the Count’s attempts to exercise
his “droit du seigneur” on Susannah before her impending wedding with Figaro is
echoed by the shadow Darcy as similarly doing much the same with a variety of
women within his considerable sphere
of influence. And that brings me right back to Richard Jenkyns’s sharp
observation that Wickham, like Figaro, might be illegitimate sons of the late
Count/Mr. Darcy, respectively.
It
tells me that another reason for Lydia being sworn to secrecy about Darcy’s
presence in London before and during the wedding of Wickham and Lydia, besides
Darcy’s supposed modesty:
“ [Lydia] “…Well, I was so
frightened I did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if
we were beyond the hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he came
back again in ten minutes' time, and then we all set out. However, I
recollected afterwards that if he had been prevented going, the wedding need
not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as well."
"Mr. Darcy!" repeated
Elizabeth, in utter amazement.
"Oh, yes!—he was to come there
with Wickham, you know. But gracious me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said
a word about it. I promised them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was
to be such a secret!"
"If it was to be secret,"
said Jane, "say not another word on the subject. You may depend upon my
seeking no further."
"Oh! certainly," said
Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; "we will ask you no
questions."
"Thank you," said Lydia,
"for if you did, I should certainly tell you all, and then Wickham would
be angry."
On such encouragement to ask,
Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her power, by running away.”
Why
would Wickham have been angry? Might the actual need for secrecy have instead been
in order not to bring scrutiny to what “droit” Darcy, the “seigneur” of Austen’s
comic “opera”, might have been exercising with Lydia the night before her wedding
to Wickham?
And that’s
a shocking twist that I am pretty sure even the daring, insightful sexer-upper Andrew
Davies did not spot. ;)
Cheers,
ARNIE
@JaneAustenCode
on Twitter
1 comment:
I'm going to throw a fly into the ointment. My objections are hardly based on solid ground for there are many explanations which would disprove my thoughts, but... here goes anyway.
While Pride and Prejudice was published in 1813, it was written between 1796-97. Mozart's opera was first performed in Vienna in 1786, but it didn't receive it's first performance in England until 1812. Therefore, it is unlikely that Jane Austen was influenced by the opera. However, I'm happy to concede that the story was well-known before Miss Austen set pen to paper, and Mozart's magnificent version is hardly the first time Beaumarchais' play was set to music. Just grist for the mill.
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