Diane Reynolds responded briefly to
my last post, “Mrs Thorpe’s “past adventures and sufferings” are keys that
unlock the backstory of Northanger Abbey“….
http://tinyurl.com/hg956t9
… as follows:
"There are many interesting
catches here, especially on Mrs. Thorpe's backstory..."
Thank you very much, Diane -- I must
admit that even I was surprised at how quickly and readily the various pieces
of the backstory puzzle fit together, once I got going. That’s always a very
encouraging indicator that I’m barking up the right tree in my literary sleuthing.
Diane also wrote: "...but I
don't think it likely John Thorpe would want to marry his half sister."
You are the voice of common sense,
Diane, but let me push back on that, hard, because it turns out that with your
excellent instinct for brainstorming about what matters in fiction, you’ve just
pointed me to yet another key to the
backstory of Northanger Abbey that I
sketched out in my prior post!
First, do you recall John Thorpe's
favorite novels? Here is where we hear about them from him:
"[Catherine] ventured at length to vary the subject by a question which
had been long uppermost in her thoughts; it was, “Have you ever read Udolpho, Mr. Thorpe?”
“Udolpho!
Oh, Lord! Not I; I never read novels; I have something else to do.”
Catherine, humbled and ashamed, was
going to apologize for her question, but he prevented her by saying, “Novels
are all so full of nonsense and stuff; there has not been a tolerably decent
one come out since Tom Jones, except The Monk; I read that t’other day; but
as for all the others, they are the stupidest things in creation.”
So, what might have been
the reason why JA lets us know that the satanic John Thorpe has not one but two
favorite novels, Tom Jones and The Monk? Austen scholars have
repeatedly noted the obvious, which is that both novels were notorious for
crossing into what many conservative readers deemed to be indecency, although
that indecency was obviously much more the case with the darkly lurid evils
depicted in The Monk than with the
wittily salacious Tom Jones.
It took me a few seconds
to realize that there’s one key plot point where John Thorpe’s two literary
inspirations are in startling, disturbing, and very specific alignment with each other, beyond the above general resemblance. If you will just note the
portions I put in ALL CAPS in the following two Wikipedia synopses, that
specific parallel will become immediately apparent to you:
First, Tom Jones: “…Tom…is
expelled from Allworthy's estate for his many misdemeanours, and starts his
adventures across Britain, eventually ending up in London.
Amongst other things, he…beds two older women (Mrs Waters and Lady Bellaston)…Eventually
the secret of Tom's birth is revealed, after A SHORT SCARE THAT MRS WATERS (who is really Jenny Jones) IS HIS BIRTH
MOTHER, AND THAT HE HAS COMMITTED INCEST. Tom's real mother is Bridget, who
conceived him after an affair with a schoolmaster — hence he is the true nephew
of Squire Allworthy himself…”
And second, The Monk: “Newly
arrived in Madrid, Leonella and her niece Antonia visit a church to hear the
sermon of a celebrated priest, Ambrosio…The mysterious priest, who was left at
the abbey as a child, delivers the sermon, and Antonia is fascinated with him…On
the way home, a gypsy warns Antonia that she is about to die, killed by someone
who appears to be honorable….Ambrosio grows tired of [Matilda], and his eyes
begins to wander, noticing the attractiveness of other women. Ambrosio is
approached by Antonia, who asks him to provide a confessor for Elvira, her
dying mother, and is immediately attracted to her. He prays for Elvira, who
begins to improve, and so agrees to come to visit them often, for the simple
purpose of being with Antonia and hopefully seducing her. Elvira confesses that she sees something familiar in Ambrosio, but she
cannot pinpoint what it is.
Ambrosio continues his visits to
Antonia. He asks if there is not a man whom she has ever loved, and she
confesses that she loves him. Misinterpreting her, he embraces her, but she
resists him, insisting that she did not love him in that way, yet the priest
continues to ravish her until her mother enters. Ambrosio pretends that nothing
was happening, but Elvira had already suspected his designs on her daughter and
tells him that his services are no longer needed. Matilda comes to his room and
tells him she can help him to gain Antonia’s charms, even though she realizes
she herself no longer holds his interest, in the same way in which she was
healed of the poison: witchcraft. Ambrosio is horrified and rejects her
suggestion. However, when she shows him a magic mirror that reveals to him
Antonia bathing, he agrees. Matilda and Ambrosio return to the cemetery, where
Matilda calls up Lucifer and receives his help, and they receive a magic myrtle
bough, which will allow Ambrosio to open any door, as well as satisfy his lust
on Antonia without her knowing who is her ravisher. Ambrosio agrees, without,
he believes, selling himself to the devil.
…Ambrosio carries out his plot to
rape Antonia. With the magic myrtle bough he enters her chamber and finds her
asleep. He performs the magic rite that will prevent her resistance. He is on
the point of raping her when Elvira enters the room and confronts him,
promising that she will make his true nature public. In desperation, Ambrosio
murders Elvira without carrying out his true purpose of ravishing Antonia. He
returns to the abbey, unsatisfied in his lust and horrified that he has now
become a murderer. Antonia is grief-stricken at the death of her mother and
alone…One night Antonia wanders into Elvira’s room and sees what she takes to
be her mother’s ghost, which warns her that it will return in three nights and
Antonia will die. Terrified, Antonia faints and is found by her landlady,
Jacintha, who goes to Ambrosio, requesting him to exorcise her home. Under
Matilda’s advice, Ambrosio acquires a concoction that will induce a condition
appearing to be death for Antonia. While he is attending Antonia, he slips the
potion into her medicine and waits. While he is waiting, he sees what he fears
is, in actuality, the ghost of Elvira retreat across the room. He pursues it
and discovers it is Flora, Antonia’s maid, who is spying on him on the advice
of Elvira before she died. As they are speaking, Jacintha cries out that
Antonia is dying, as it indeed appears. With her "dying" breath, Antonia
confesses how much she admired Ambrosio and desired his friendship, against her
mother’s wishes. She leaves everything to her aunt Leonella, and releases her
half-uncle Cisternas from all obligations to her, though she waited for him to
come rescue her from her dire straits.… When
Antonia awakens from her drugged sleep in the crypt Ambrosio rapes her.
Afterwards, he is as disgusted with Antonia as he was with Matilda, who comes
to warn him about the riot. Ambrosio kills Antonia in her attempt to escape.
…Ambrosio
and Matilda are brought before the Inquisition, and at first both proclaim
their innocence, but then Matilda confesses her guilt and is condemned to be
burned at the auto-da-fe.
Ambrosio insists upon his innocence and is tortured…In despair, Ambrosio
requests Lucifer to save his life, who tells him it will be at the cost of his
soul. Yet still Ambrosio resists, hoping eventually for God’s pardon. Lucifer
informs him that there is none, and Ambrosio, after much resistance, signs the
contract. He is rescued from the cell by Lucifer and brought to a wilderness. LUCIFER INFORMS HIM THAT ELVIRA WAS HIS
MOTHER, MAKING ANTONIA HIS SISTER, ADDING TO HIS CRIMES THE SIN OF INCEST.
Lucifer reveals that it has long been his plan to gain Ambrosio’s soul, and
Matilda was his servant in the process. Lucifer then carries Ambrosio up and
drops him on the rocks below. Ambrosio suffers for six days, dying alone and
damned for eternity.”
So, does anyone who looks at the above really think
Jane Austen, who knew all 18th century fiction like the back of her
prolific hand, didn’t realize that Tom
Jones and The Monk both involve
incest which plays a salient role in the climax of the plot—whether in the
assuaging of the fear of incest in Tom
Jones which (suspiciously to my eyes) proves very conveniently unfounded,
or in the actuality of brother sister incest, committed by a satanic brother on
an innocent sister, in The Monk?
But I’ve got two more points to make in support
of my above claim.
First, I direct your attention to Henry Austen’s
Biographical Notice of sister Jane, which includes the following oft-noted
disclaimer: “She did not rank any work of
Fielding quite so high. Without the slightest affectation she recoiled from
every thing gross. Neither nature, wit, nor humour, could make her amends for
so very low a scale of morals.”
Five
years ago, I argued here… http://sharpelvessociety.blogspot.com/2011/11/jane-austens-amazing-technicolor.html
…that Henry Austen deliberated lied in
the above statement, because he did not want readers to realize that Jane
Austen actually was profoundly influenced by Fielding’s fiction. However, it
only occurred to me today, that Henry was not just telling a general lie, he
was also telling a very specific lie. To wit: the key point is that his Biographical Notice was first published
as the Preface to the posthumous first edition of Northanger Abbey and Persuasion
in 1818, a year after JA’s death.
So, I
now believe that Henry Austen singled out Fielding’s fiction for special
condemnation, precisely because Tom Jones
was explicitly mentioned in Northanger
Abbey, as part of a veiled incest subtext which I assert Henry Austen was
very much aware of, and devoutly wished to suppress. I.e., he did not want any
readers to do what I just did this morning, which is to think too much about the
curious juxtaposition of John Thorpe’s two favorite novels. And this point is only enhanced when we
recall that there’ve been a number of scholarly studies of Austen’s fiction
outlining the pervasive brother sister incest themes in all her novels --- to
which I now make this intriguing and surprising addition.
That brings me to my final point – did you
happen to notice the following in the above-quoted synopsis of The Monk?: “Elvira confesses that she sees
something familiar in Ambrosio, but she cannot pinpoint what it is.”
Here’s the actual passage in The Monk, in which Antonia and her
mother discuss Ambrosio:
'Even before He spoke,' said Elvira,
'I was prejudiced in his favour: The fervour of his exhortations, dignity of
his manner, and closeness of his reasoning, were very far from inducing me to
alter my opinion. His fine and full-toned voice struck me particularly; But
surely, Antonia, I have heard it before. It seemed perfectly familiar to my
ear. Either I must have known the Abbot in former times, or his voice bears a
wonderful resemblance to that of some other, to whom I have often listened.
There were certain tones which
touched my very heart, and made me feel sensations so singular, that I strive
in vain to account for them.'
'My dearest Mother, it produced the
same effect upon me: Yet certainly neither of us ever heard his voice till we
came to Madrid. I suspect that what we attribute to his voice, really proceeds
from his pleasant manners, which forbid our considering him as a Stranger. I
know not why, but I feel more at my ease while conversing with him than I
usually do with people who are unknown to me. I feared not to repeat to him all
my childish thoughts; and somehow I felt confident that He would hear my folly
with indulgence. Oh! I was not deceived in him! He listened to me with such an
air of kindness and attention! He answered me with such gentleness, such
condescension!...”
Anyone who read my above-linked
first post will understand that what caught my eye in the above was its
striking parallel to the way the Thorpes all remark about Catherine’s remarkable
resemblance to brother James, which I took as a clue to Catherine’s possible
illegitimacy, even before I knew that such a parallel passage involving a concealed
brother-sister relationship even existed in The
Monk . So, I hope you’ll now agree that it is little wonder that John Thorpe
was such a big fan of The Monk!!!
Cheers, ARNIE
@JaneAustenCode on Twitter
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