This is in followup to my post yesterday http://sharpelvessociety.blogspot.com/2018/07/the-sence-sencibility-of-prince-regents.html in
which I speculated that the Prince Regent bought the first copy of Sense and Sensibility not for his own
reading pleasure, but as a cautionary tale as to the grave dangers of excess
sensibility, to be “administered” to his “Marianne Dashwood”-like 16 year old
daughter Princess Charlotte, as a “cure” for that same “disease”.
In my earlier post, I wondered “how would the Prince have known enough
about the story and characters of S&S when he bought that first copy of it
in October 1811, to know that Marianne Dashwood would make an ideal Exhibit B
for his daughter to learn about the perils of over-sensibility?
I have no solid
answer at present, but can speculate about it. Perhaps Jane Austen and/or her
publisher Egerton wished for the Prince Regent to have some advance inside info
about S&S, so as to tempt him to buy it, as he did? If so, how would either
of them have managed to get that inside info communicated to the Prince? Egerton
had accepted S&S for publication a year before it was actually published,
so there was time during which some summary of S&S might have somehow
reached the Prince?”
When I awoke today,
I realized that the answer was fairly obvious after all. The fact that the
first review of S&S (in the Critical Review) wasn’t published till Feb.1812,
doesn’t mean that this reviewer had not read an advance copy of S&S prior
to October 1811 – that’s certainly the custom with newly published books today,
and I’d imagine it was back then as well. If so, then the Prince could very
well have been informed ahead of first public sale as to the extensive portions
of that first review, which focused on Marianne’s excess of sensibility. And if
so, it makes perfect sense that he’d have exercised his royal privilege, and made
sure he had the very first copy in hand, as a special gift for his daughter –but
a gift granted with ulterior motives.
If Egerton were
going to put out feelers for S&S among the literati, it would’ve been canny marketing on his part to make sure
that the Prince was the first to be made aware of how closely S&S fit with
the Prince’s concerns about his daughter that were on the tip of many tongues. And
if word spread about the Prince’s purchase of the first copy of S&S, that
would seem to be a pretty good launch buzz for S&S. And so it was that shortly
after that review was published, the buzz did begin, including the well known
gossip speculating about the identity of the anonymous “Lady” who wrote
S&S, gossip which Princess Charlotte participated in!
With that
background, then, I quote for you, below, those portions in that first review
which relate to Marianne, and suggest that as you read them, imagine how they
would have been eagerly seized upon by the Prince and his minions as a tool to
rein in his daughter’s Marianne-ness – especially if that cautionary message was
being amplified and reinforced by Mercer Elphinstone, who, as my prior post
indicated, was thought by many to be the Prince’s “double agent” passing intel
about Charlotte back to him –and also, notice the comments about the character
of Mrs. Dashwood, and think about how they would resonate with the Prince’s
assertions that his wife the supposedly out of control Princess Caroline was exactly
the wrong parent to be able and willing to restrain Charlotte’s impulsivity:
Critical Review Feb. 1812 review of Sense and Sensibility:
“…We
are no enemies to novels or novel writers, but we regret, that in the
multiplicity of them, there are so few worthy of any particular
commendation. a genteel, well written novel is as agreeable a lounge
as a genteel comedy, from which both amusement and instruction may
be derived. Sense and Sensibility is
one amongst the few, which can claim this fair praise. It is well written; the
characters are in genteel life, naturally drawn, and judiciously supported. The
incidents are probable, and highly pleasing, and interesting; the conclusion
such as the reader must wish it should be, and the whole, is just doing enough
to interest, without fatiguing. It reflects honour on the writer, who displays
much knowledge of character, and very happily blends a great deal of good sense
with the lighter matter of the piece. The story may be thought trifling by the
readers of novels, who are insatiable after something new. But the
excellent lesson which it holds up to view, and the useful moral which may be
derived from the perusal, are such essential requisites, that the want of newness may
in this instance be readily overlooked. The characters of Ellen and Marianne
are very nicely contrasted; the former possessing great good sense, with
a proper quantity of sensibility, the latter an equal
share of the sense which renders her sister so estimable, but blending it at
the same time with an immoderate degree of sensibility which renders
her unhappy on every trifling occasion, and annoys every one around her….
…Mrs.
Dashwood, the mother of these daughters, possessed an eagerness of mind, which
would have hurried her into indiscretions, had it not been somewhat checked by
her good disposition and affectionate heart. Elinor, the eldest daughter, has a
strong understanding and cool judgment, an amiable temper, with strong
feelings, which she knew how to govern. Marianne's abilities are equal to
Elinor's: she is sensible and clever, but so terribly impetuous in all her joys
and all her sorrows as to know no moderation. She is generous, amiable,
interesting, and every thing but prudent. Her sensibilities are all
in the extreme. The reader will form a judgment of the character of Mrs.
Dashwood and Marianne by the following:
‘On Mr.
Dashwood's death, Elinor saw, with concern, the excess of her sister's
sensibility: but by Mrs. Dashwood it was valued and cherished. They encouraged
each other now in the violence of their affliction. The agony of grief which
overpowered them at first, was voluntarily renewed, was sought for, was created
again and again. They gave themselves up wholly to their sorrow, seeking
increase of wretchedness in every reflection that could afford it, and resolved
against ever admitting consolation in future. Elinor too was deeply afflicted,
but still she could struggle, she could exert herself. She could consult with
her brother, could receive her sister-in-law on her arrival, and treat her with
every proper attention, and could strive to rouse her mother to similar
exertion, and encourage her to similar forbearance.'
Such is
the difference exhibited between Sense and Sensibility. We will make another
extract on the subject of love, and then our fair readers will have a pretty
good idea of what is wanting in the person and sentiments of a lover to please
such a romantic enthusiast as Marianne Dashwood, of whom we fear there are too
many, but without her elegance and good sense, who play with their feelings and
happiness till they lose the latter, and render the former perfectly ridiculous
and contemptible. Marianne and her mother are speaking of a gentleman who is in
love with Elinor: her mother asks her if she disapproves her sister's choice.
‘Perhaps,’
said Marianne, ‘I may consider it with some surprise. Edward is very amiable,
and I love him tenderly. But yet-he is not the kind of young man-there is a
something wanting-his figure is not striking; it has none of that grace which I
should expect in the man who could seriously attach my sister. His eyes want
all that spirit, that fire, which at once announce virtue and intelligence.
[Janeites are familiar with the rest of Marianne’s speech about Edward’s poetic
shortcomings]”
Thus
argues this fair enthusiast at the wise age of seventeen. This lover
of her sister, whom Marianne thinks wants so much to make him to her mind, is
endowed with sense, goodness, and every qualification which renders a man
amiable, except that he could not read Cowper and jump through the ceiling with
the violence of his feelings. He also had another fault. He thought, that a
person might fall in love more than once in his life, which Marianne
held an utter impossibility; nor was he any admirer of dead leaves, which
excited in the breast of Marianne the most transporting sensations. She
exclaims: ‘How have I delighted as I walked, to see them,' (the dead leaves), ‘driven
in showers about me by the wind! What feelings have they, the season, the air
altogether inspired!’
The
gentleman had, at the same time, no knowledge of the picturesque, which
Marianne considered an indispensable ingredient in a lover and a
husband. He called hills steep, which ought to be bold, ‘surfaces strange and
uncouth, which ought to be irregular and rugged, and distant objects out of
sight, which ought only to be indistinct through the soft medium of a hazy
atmosphere.’ In the jargon of landscape scenery, Elinor's lover was a
mere ignoramus; he gave things, objects, and persons, their proper
names, a crime which could not be overlooked. . . . .
…In the
friendly attentions of this family and the society they meet at Barton Park
(the seat of Sir John), Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters regain their
cheerfulness, and, in a short time, our fair Heroine of Sensibility meets with
a gentleman, who exactly meets her ideas of perfection. Mr. Willoughby,
possesses manly beauty, uncommon gracefulness, superior gallantry, and
fascinating manners. In short, Marianne and Willoughby are strikingly alike.
They are equally enthusiastic, equally romantic. In the portraiture of
Marianne’s and Willoughby's attachment, the merit of the novel is principally
displayed; and it furnishes a most excellent lesson to young ladies to curb
that violent sensibility which too often leads to misery, and always to
inconvenience and ridicule. To young men who make a point of playing with a
young woman's affections, it will be no less useful, as it shows in strong
colours the folly and criminality of sporting with the feelings of those whom
their conduct tends to wound and render miserable. Such is the conduct of
Willoughby after securing the affections of Marianne; being, as far as he is
capable, in love with her, and giving herself and her family every reason to
think his attachment honourable and unshaken, he finds it inconvenient, from
his embarrassed affairs, to marry a girl who has only beauty, sense,
accomplishments, and a heart, glowing with the most ardent affection, for her
portion. He leaves her with an idea that he will soon return, but afterwards
marries a woman for money, that he may continue to enjoy those luxuries which
he cannot find it in his heart to relinquish. The sensibility of
Marianne is without bounds. She is. rendered miserable, and in her peculiar
temperament, this misery is extravagantly cherished, whilst Elinor, who has her
own love-difficulties to encounter and her own-sensibilities to subdue,
has the painful task of endeavouring to alleviate her sister's grief, which
preys upon her health so much, that she is soon reduced to the brink of the
grave. The patience and tenderness of Elinor during the long illness of her
sister, and the knowledge of her bearing up in so exemplary a manner against
the disappointments and mortifications which she has had to endure, sink deep
into the mind of Marianne. Her confinement produces reflection, and her good
sense at length prevails over her sensibility. After a time, she
marries a most amiable man, who had long loved her, and whom, in the height of
her delirium of sensibility, she could not bear even to think on for the very
wise reason, that he was five and thirty, and consequently in
Marianne's ideas of love, had 'outlived every sensation of that kind. In
her notions, at that period, a man, at the advanced age of five and thirty, could
not have any thing to do with matrimony.’ Marianne sees the fallacy of all this
nonsense, and becomes a good-wife to this old gentleman of
thirty-five, even though he declares it was necessary for him to wear a flannel
waistcoat to prevent a rheumatic affection in one of his shoulders…”
It is
fascinating, then, to think about S&S was seen by some of its early readers
as a kind of well-written conduct book, designed to scare young women of a
Marianne-like tendency out of their sensibility. That, to me, was the “cover
story” of S&S, how Jane Austen managed to get it published, even though, as
I’ve often argued, I believe that Marianne, and not Elinor, is Jane Austen’s
own true alter ego in S&S, and that on a deeper level, S&S’s primary
theme is the hypocrisy of powerful men and their female collaborators, and the heroism of female rebels like
Marianne. Of course, had the Prince been aware of that deeper subtext, it would
have been the last novel in the world he’d have wished to buy for his daughter
to read!
Cheers,
ARNIE
@JaneAustenCode
on Twitter
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