Catherine Morland's Two Rooms With a View

In Austen L, Ellen Moody wrote some interesting comments about EM Forster and Jane Austen which I have responded to as follows:

[Ellen] "After watching Andrew Davies's 2007 Room with a View, I became convinced his character depiction of Lucy Honeychurch was precisely that of the character he gives Catherine Morland in the 2007 Northanger Abbey: literal words, tones, stances, kinds of scenes, and I've begun reading Forster's novel. I've discovered that Forster himself is at times thinking of NA: young girl introduced to the world, under care of chaperon, meets young man (George) whom she is strongly attracted to."

Yes, Ellen, I am certain you are correct that Forster was intentionally alluding not only to NA, but also to Emma (and probably some of the other Austen novels too, if examined more closely still) in Room With A View.


"More than half-way through the book I can see he means Charlotte Bartlett to be a modern variant on Miss Bates"

And her name anagrammatically incorporates, including the first two letters in proper sequence, the name of Miss Bates.


"-- of course Charlotte told Miss Lavish, amid all her talk it just slipped out (rather a blabberer, p 191)"

That is a telltale detail.


"and several times there are remarkable incidents thickly rich with allusions to Northanger Abbey (one on a hyacinth or bunch of them)."

Which shows that Forster was sensitive to the way that JA used these seemingly trivial details like the hyacinth in a subtly thematic way.


"Thomson is closer to the book and Forster's allusions to Miss Bates. Astonishing: the reported murder of Mrs Emerson by Mr Emerson: this is a parody of Catherine's belief that the General murdered his wife!"

And perhaps also a suspicion of Forster's about the cause of death of the great Mrs. Churchill as well!--and Honeychurch sounds a bit like Churchill.


"why has no one written an article?"

Because, ironically and astoundingly, most academic literary scholars pay little attention to the deeper significance of allusions! I find that the vast majority of the time, even when allusions are noticed, they are rarely treated as being significant, and are often speculated to be unconscious or peripheral, unless the allusions are so heavy-handedly specific that they cannot avoid being noticed by everyone.

My experience from all my research is the complete opposite of that academic norm--i.e., I have found that most of the great writers, especially JA, used subliminal allusion pervasively, as a way both of deepening their own stories, as well as writing veiled commentaries on the works they have so subtly alluded to.

I see Forster doing all of that in Room With A View.


"Perhaps because unlike S&S this is a critique of the previous Austen book (though Howards End is much more deeply sympathetic to Helen than Austen to Marianne, and more critical of Margaret's marriage for position than Austen of Elinor's which is not)"

And there I strongly disagree with you--I think that Austen's apparent disapproval of Marianne is only on the surface--beneath, I claimn that JA is intensely sympathetic to Marianne, indeed Marianne _IS_ Jane Austen! But S&S is written from Elinor's point of view, and Elinor does not really understand her sister at all!


"in Room with a View, through Forster's close rewritings, we see how narrow minded and unconscious is Austen's approach to the urge to be free; she does not see it's sexual frustration that partly leads to Catherine's desire of craving to be frightened. She does not link sexual desire here as Atwood in Lady Oracle also does, but from another angle. Both Atwood and Forster's books show the limitations of Austen. Forster's rewriting does not so much validate Catherine's urge towards experiencing the gothic as shows it's a false route to liberation -- where in Room with a View we see "begins in recognizing the inhibition that stifling social conventions impose on the expression of desire"


And I violently disagree with your reading of Austen there, too, Ellen. JA very intentionally but subliminally depicts Catherine's blossoming sexuality in NA, and knows exactly what she is doing as she does so! She is the opposite of narrow minded, she is actually a strong advocate of women's having sexual freedom. I don't know whether Forster recognized that, and maybe _he_ thought he was correcting JA's deficiencies, but if so, the joke was on him, as he was merely making explicit what was subtly implicit in Northanger Abbey, in terms of female sexuality.


Cheers, ARNIE
sharpelvessociety.blogspot.com

P.S.: I even wonder if the title of Forster's novel derives at least in part from the following two scenes in NA (if you look at the words I've capitalized), each of which literally describes "a room with a view", one in Bath, the other at Woodston:


2: Mrs. Allen was so long in dressing that they did not enter the ballROOM till late. The season was full, the room crowded, and the two ladies squeezed in as well as they could. As for Mr. Allen, he repaired directly to the card–room, and left them to enjoy a mob by themselves. With more care for the safety of her new gown than for the comfort of her protegee, Mrs. Allen made her way through the throng of men by the door, as swiftly as the necessary caution would allow; Catherine, however, kept close at her side, and linked her arm too firmly within her friend’s to be torn asunder by any common effort of a struggling assembly. But to her utter amazement she found that to proceed along the ROOM was by no means the way to disengage themselves from the crowd; it seemed rather to increase as they went on, whereas she had imagined that when once fairly within the door, they should easily find seats and be able to watch the dances with perfect convenience. But this was far from being the case, and though by unwearied diligence they gained even the top of the ROOM, their situation was just the same; they saw nothing of the dancers but the high feathers of some of the ladies. Still they moved on — something better was yet IN VIEW; and by a continued exertion of strength and ingenuity they found themselves at last in the passage behind the highest bench. Here there was something less of crowd than below; and hence Miss Morland had a comprehensive VIEW of all the company beneath her, and of all the dangers of her late passage through them. It was a splendid sight, and she began, for the first time that evening, to feel herself at a ball: she longed to dance, but she had not an acquaintance in the ROOM. Mrs. Allen did all that she could do in such a case by saying very placidly, every now and then, “I wish you could dance, my dear — I wish you could get a partner.” For some time her young friend felt obliged to her for these wishes; but they were repeated so often, and proved so totally ineffectual, that Catherine grew tired at last, and would thank her no more.

26: “We are not calling it a good house,” said he. “We are not comparing it with Fullerton and Northanger — we are considering it as a mere parsonage, small and confined, we allow, but decent, perhaps, and habitable; and altogether not inferior to the generality; or, in other words, I believe there are few country parsonages in England half so good. It may admit of improvement, however. Far be it from me to say otherwise; and anything in reason — a bow thrown out, perhaps — though, between ourselves, if there is one thing more than another my aversion, it is a patched–on bow.” Catherine did not hear enough of this speech to understand or be pained by it; and other subjects being studiously brought forward and supported by Henry, at the same time that a tray full of refreshments was introduced by his servant, the general was shortly restored to his complacency, and Catherine to all her usual ease of spirits.The ROOM in question was of a commodious, well–proportioned size, and handsomely fitted up as a dining–parlour; and on their quitting it to walk round the grounds, she was shown, first into a smaller apartment, belonging peculiarly to the master of the house, and made unusually tidy on the occasion; and afterwards into what was to be the drawing–ROOM, with the appearance of which, though unfurnished, Catherine was delighted enough even to satisfy the general. It was a prettily shaped room, the windows reaching to the ground, and the VIEW from them pleasant, though only over green meadows; and she expressed her admiration at the moment with all the honest simplicity with which she felt it. “Oh! Why do not you fit up this ROOM, Mr. Tilney? What a pity not to have it fitted up! It is the prettiest ROOM I ever saw; it is the prettiest ROOM in the world!”“I trust,” said the general, with a most satisfied smile, “that it will very speedily be furnished: it waits only for a lady’s taste!”“Well, if it was my house, I should never sit anywhere else. Oh! What a sweet little cottage there is among the trees — apple trees, too! It is the prettiest cottage!” “You like it — you approve it as an object — it is enough. Henry, remember that Robinson is spoken to about it. The cottage remains.”

Jane Austen's Letter 23: The Emma Letter

What struck me about Letter 23 when I first read it closely a few years ago is that it has so many echoes of Emma, which supports the notion (which I heartily endorse) that Emma grew out of the ashes of The Watsons. It goes far beyond the resonance between Miss Bates and Jane Austen herself (which I have been claiming since 2006) that Ellen has suggested in Austen L, because there are so many particular details which ring very specific bells.

Here are the echoes/bells from Emma which I hear in Letter 23 (written, it is important to remember, 15 years before JA edited the final proofs of Emma!):


“I am not yet able to acknowledge the receipt of any parcel from London, which I suppose will not occasion you much surprise.-I was a little disappointed today, but not more than is perfectly agreable; & I hope to be disappointed again tomorrow, as only one coach comes down on Sundays”

Although we find out at the end of the letter that JA is awaiting a gown that CEA ordered for her while passing through London en route to Godmersham, we are at this first point reminded of the delivery of the piano from London to Jane Fairfax.


“You have had a very pleasant Journey of course, & have found Elizabeth & all the Children very well on your arrival at Godmersham, & I congratulate you on it. Edward is rejoicing this evening I dare say to find himself once more at home, from which he fancies he has been absent a great while.”

The Christmas visit of the John Knightleys with all their children to Highbury, and in particular John Knightley’s grumbling about traveling away from home.


“His son left behind him the very fine chestnuts which had been selected for planting at Godmersham, & the drawing of his own which he had intended to carry to George; + the former will there-fore be deposited in the soil of Hampshire instead of Kent; the latter, I have already consigned to another Element.”

Robert Martin gathering walnuts for Harriet.


“…we have been obliged to take advantage of the delightful weather ourselves by going to see almost all our Neighbours.-On Thursday we walked to Deane, yesterday to Oakley Hall & Oakley, & today to Deane again.”

Of course, that is Emma’s quotidian life in Highbury!


“At Oakley Hall we did a great deal-eat some sandwiches all over mustard, admired Mr. Bramston's Porter & Mrs. Bramston's Transparencies, & gained a promise from the latter of two roots of hearts-ease, one all yellow & the other all purple, for you.”

As Colleen Sheehan so brilliantly argued 10 years ago, the secret second answer to the _shorter_ charade in Chapter 9 of Emma is “heart’s ease”.


“At Oakley we bought ten pair of worsted stockings, & a shift.”

Emma and Harriet go to Ford’s.


“The shift is for Betty Dawkins, as we find she wants it more than a rug.-She is one of the most grateful of all whom Edward's charity has reached, or at least she expresses herself more warmly than the rest, for she sends him a " sight of thanks."

Emma and Harriet make their charitable outing.


“James went to Winchester fair yesterday, & bought a new horse; & Mary has got a new maid-two great acquisitions, one comes from Folly Farm, is about five years old, used to draw, & thought very pretty; & the other is neice to Dinah at Kintbury.”

Emma playfully saying to Knightley: “It was not Harriet's hand that he was certain of—it was the dimensions of some famous ox."

And as I have mentioned in the past, the above passage from Emma must have been on Sholom Aleichem’s mind when he wrote the hilarious scene between Tevye and Lazar Wolf .


“We have had no letter since you left us, except one from Mr. Serle of Bishop's Stoke to enquire the character of James Elton.-Our whole Neighbourhood is at present very busy greiving over poor Mrs. Martin, who has totally failed in her business, & had very lately an execution in her house.”

Surely I do not even need to point out that these two sentences contain _four_ surnames from _Emma_-!-three are from the surnames of these real people (if indeed they are all real people, and if these events actually did take place, which, in my opinion, is far from certain) and one (Mrs. Stokes, the proprietor of the Crown Inn) from the name “Bishop’s Stoke”.


“Her own Brother & Mr. Rider are the principal creditors, & they have seized her effects in order to prevent other people's doing it.-There has been the same affair going on, we are told, at Wilson's, & my hearing nothing of you makes me apprehensive that You, your fellow travellers & all your effects, might be seized by the Bailiffs when you stopt at the Crow & sold altogether for the benefit of the creditors.”

This droll sarcastic tale of a woman living on the economic edge, and then JA’s droll fantasy of CEA herself being sold to pay debts, of course reminds us of Miss Bates. And note that CEA s”stopt at the Crow”, which is only one letter away from “the CrowN”!


“In talking of Mr. Deedes's new house, Mrs. Bramston told us one circumstance, which, that we should be ignorant of it before must make Edward's conscience fly into his face; she told us that one of the sitting rooms at Sandling, an oval room with a Bow at one end, has the very remarkable & singular feature of a fireplace with a window, the centre window of the Bow, exactly over the mantlepeice.-Sunday.”

Ellen is right to hear an echo to General Tilney’s protesting too much about the lack of a bow window at Woodston, but there is another reference to a bow window in JA’s novels, and it is in Emma:

“…a string of dawdling children round the baker's little bow-window eyeing the gingerbread…”


“Our Improvements have advanced very well;-the Bank along the Elm Walk is sloped down for the reception of Thorns & Lilacs; & it is settled that the other side of the path is to continue turf'd & be planted with Beech, Ash, & Larch.-Monday.”

And we have the following description of Harriet and the Gypsies:
“About half a mile beyond Highbury, making a sudden turn, and deeply shaded by elms on each side, it became for a considerable stretch very retired….Miss Bickerton, excessively frightened, gave a great scream, and calling on Harriet to follow her, ran up a steep bank…”


But here is the coup de grace, in terms of Emma echoes:


“I am surprised that Mrs. Marriot should not be taller-Surely You have made a mistake.-Did Mr. Roland make you look well?”

Of course this is Knightley commenting that Emma has drawn Harriet too tall!

Cheers, ARNIE

Catherine Morland's Name is in Mr. Elton's Charade...in more ways than one

Yesterday, I responded to Anielka's question as to the anagram contained in Catherine Morland's name, and my answer was that it is in Mr. Elton's charade.

Then I added the additional twist that Catherine Morland's name is in Mr. Elton's charade in two completely different, and yet wonderfully complementary, ways.

No one has guessed what I meant by this, so I will explain myself now.

I gave the hint that one of those two answers could be found without reading anything other than my message. Here's how that could be.

My message contained the name "Catherine Morland's", two words which together contain a total of seventeen letters.

It turns out that the phrase "in Mr. Elton's charade" also contains a total of seventeen letters, and what is remarkable, I claim, is that these just happen to be exactly the same seventeen letters!

I.e., CATHERINEMORLAND and INMRELTONSCHARADE both contain exactly the same letters.

That is, then, the _first_ of the two ways in which (the 17 letters in) "Catherine Morland's" are (the same seventeen letters) "in Mr. Elton's charade"!


Coincidence? Absent any other evidence supporting the claim that this was an intentional action on Jane Austen's part, other than both versions pertain to novels written by Jane Austen, it could very well be a coincidence. Seventeen letters are a lot of letters, and these seventeen letters are among the most commonly used letters in English, and therefore can often be turned into all sorts of different combinations, especially if we allow combinations consisting of more than two words or names. I am perfectly aware of that.

But...there is, I would suggest, other evidence .....once you go with the flow, and entertain the possibility that it might be intentional, and then examine Mr. Elton's charade alongside the character of Catherine Morland, a couple of other parallels do pop up, to wit:

First, As I wrote last year (also, by the way, in response to Anielka), the structure of Mr. Elton's charade is parallel to that of a dance from the Regency Era called the "quadrille":

http://sharpelvessociety.blogspot.com/2010/02/games-like-quadrille-that-people-play.html

In short, as I explain at length in that prior blog post, Mr. Elton's charade can be seen as a kind of quadrille in words rather than a quadrille in steps.

But how does this relate to Catherine Morland? Well, doesn't the idea of a dance ring a strong bell to Catherine Morland? How about this, when Henry Tilney explains how dancing is like marriage:

"I consider a country-dance as an emblem of marriage. Fidelity and complaisance are the principal duties of both; and those men who do not chuse to dance or marry themselves, have no business with the partners or wives of their neighbours’”

Henry's “‘definition of matrimony and dancing’” provides “that in both, it is an engagement between man and woman, formed for the advantage of each; and that when once entered into, they belong exclusively to each other till the moment of its dissolution; that it is their duty, each to endeavour to give the other no cause for wishing that he or she had bestowed themselves elsewhere, and their best interest to keep their own imaginations from wandering towards the perfections of their neighbours, or fancying that they should have been better off with any one else.”

And Mr. Elton's charade also draws an implicit parallel between dance and marriage, because the answer Emma gives for the charade (with, as I claimed, above, the structure of a quadrille) is "courtship" and the story line of Emma (and indeed of all of JA's novels) is that of a courtship dance, in which there is considerable confusion as to who is whose partner, etc. And Henry's passive aggressive manner of setting the entire tone of their conversation, mocking Catherine frequently, has the feel of a man "leading" the woman in a _verbal_ dance as well!


But there's more still...


I claim one other, less vivid, and yet more significant, parallel between the character of Catherine Morland and Mr. Elton's second charade. The message of the second charade is that courtship involves a reversal of gender power roles, because he male in the charade is the one who starts out as the monarch and lord (and the second, secret answer to the charade is indeed the "Prince of Whales"), but ends as a "slave", bending to the power of "woman, lovely woman".


And my interpretation of Northanger Abbey is that while the surface parody of the Gothic seems to be about the comeuppance delivered by Henry to Catherine , to curb her overactive imagination, the covert anti-parody, which I described in my talk in Portland last November, is that it is Catherine's imagination which actually saves the day, and which takes Henry down a peg off his egotistical pedestal, and reforms him to a man who is worthy of Catherine's superior intuitive moral vision.


Cheers, ARNIE

P.S.: Tim Luscombe's 2005 stage adaptation of Northanger Abbey includes the following lines during a scene at the pump room:

Isabella: Where's John gone?
Catherine: To speak to a friend.
Isabella: But the music's started.
James (as he enters): Come, Miss Thorpe. We must join the set.
Isabella: I'm not asking Catherine, I'm asking you!
Isabella: My dear Morland, you are sly! Nothing will induce me to join the set before my dear Catherine can join it too. I assure you; on that matter I am resolute.
Catherine: I'm very grateful to you, dear friend!
James: Isabella, come now, this is the QUADRILLE, and I especially wanted to dance it with you.
Isabella: I told you, I would not stand up without your dear sister for all the world; for if I did, we should certainly be separated the whole evening.

While i doubt that Tim Luscombe was aware of the hidden anagram in Catherine Morland's name, I still think he would be pleased to read my argument!

Margaret Doody's misguided review of Margaret Kirkham's Pioneering, Prescient & Spot-On 1982 book Jane Austen, Feminism and Fiction

Ellen Moody wrote earlier yesterday and today in Austen L:

"I've found a review of Kirkham's book by Margaret Doody...Doody also thinks Kirkham's whole discussion over-reliant on this parallel, a distortion caused by Kirkham's desire to say something new. Many of Kirkham's ogres (Richardson, Johnson) are not ogres at all; to defeat Marilyn Butler's reading of Austen as reactionary you need to close read the novels....Anyone interested in the review, I could send it on by attachment. Doody may seem a bit harsh, but she is correct."

And I disagree with Ellen in every way, I find Doody's review as wrong as it can possibly be about the most important aspects of JA's writing. I wonder if Doody has changed her mind about these things since she wrote these book reviews 26 years (and hundreds of essay of feminist criticism of JA) ago. Doody in this article is really "Marilyn Butler Lite".

First Doody takes an extended potshot at Jan Fergus's book _Jane Austen and the Didactic Novel_ and faults Fergus for not making a strong case for Fergus's central claim that "Austen's intentions" were "primarily didactic." I have not looked at Fergus's book in a while, but in general I have found her to be pretty sensitive to JA's feminist undercurrents. And the point that Doody does not get is that Fergus’s central claim is clearly correct.

I suspect that Doody was stung by Fergus's opinion of the relative worth of Richardson's novels vs. Jane Austen's novels, from the following barb thrown by Doody at Fergus:

" It never seems to have occurred to this critic for even a moment that there are some readers-some now alive-who think Sir Charles Grandison a greater novel than Pride and Prejudice. I do not mean that Fergus ought to share such a view, merely that she should be capable of acknowledging its possibility. But the earlier works are simply treated as outdated Model T novels."

There's a reason why only literary scholars still read Sir Charles Grandison, and why everyone reads Jane Austen, but Doody wants Fergus to waste time explaining why. Anyone who has attempted to read more than 20 pages of Sir Charles Grandison can see the answer with their own eyes--Richardson needed an editor to cut 2/3 of his endless verbosity, so as to get the worthy material at the core of his novels.

But now let's get to what Doody says about Kirkham's book, with my comments interspersed:

[Doody] "It is absurd to assert that the author of Pamela and Clarissa had no sympathy for female rebellion. Kirkham believes that Austen rejected Grandison and patriarchs together: [Quoting Kirkham]"She does this by showing patriarchal figures as at best defective, like Mr. Bennet, and at worst vicious, like General Tilney" ...Ah, but what about the vexing case of Mr. Knightley? On this Grandisonian figure Kirkham is nearly silent."

[Me]: Doody is the one who has missed the boat, and even if Kirkham's analysis of Richardson is not elegant, Kirkham has gotten to the heart of the matter, which is JA's rejection and covert satire of patriarchal sexism. And then what irony that Doody throws Mr. Knightley in Kirkham's face, as if Doody has proved that JA was a big fan of Knightley. But I have repeatedly argued that Knightley is the very epitome of the sexism that JA satirized covertly. And those who recall what I wrote a few months ago in that regard will also recall that I argued repeatedly that Knightley is a portrait of Samuel Johnson, and that it is not a flattering portrait, when viewed from the proper angle.

[Doody again] "The case against Dr. Johnson is even harder to make. Johnson, in Kirkham's view, was until late middle age an unreconstructed Tory patriarchalist and a despiser of women. Chief proof is his approbation of Richardson. By 1779, however, in his Life of Milton, a regenerate Johnson shows that he "had himself benefited from the moral debate engendered by the novel" (p. 16). Kirkham has evidently not read Johnson's Irene, the work of his youth, a play in which the central moral debates and action are given to the women, who are independent moral agents as well as the central characters. It is hard to believe in Kirkham's gallery of ogres. The arguments are repeatedly shaky."

[Me]: And I say that in 1982, Kirkham, working from scratch with almost no prior scholarship to give her comfort, was an incredible pioneer in grasping the feminism at the core of JA's writing. She deserves only praise for her courageous and brilliant insights.

[Doody] "Any jocular reference by Austen to another writer is to be taken as a symptom of deep dislike. Kirkham really wants Austen to be a pure Wollstonecraftean feminist."

[Me]: Because JA was even more than a Wollstonecraftean feminist, she was even more radical than that! But Doody is, as I said, “Marilyn Butler Lite”, and so she draws the line at the “crazy” notion that JA might have been a strong feminist.

[Doody again] "She goes as far as she can in insisting that Austen probably read Wollstonecraft: "the young woman of Cassandra's sketch looks as though she might" have read the feminist's works. 'Jane Austen may well have profited from consideration of both novels [Mary and Maria: or, The Wrongs of Woman], which would not have been unattainable in Bath" (p. 37). There are "similarities . . . worth noting": Marza touches on whether or not a woman, who has no legal or constitutional rights, may be said to have a country. In Northanger Abbey, the laws and customs of England are overtly held to protect a wife ... but the ironies of the novel undermine this and raise doubts as to how far all is well in the Midland counties of England. In Maria the heroine is literally imprisoned by her husband; she says, "Marriage had bastilled me for life...." In Mansfield Park, Maria sees Sotherton as a "dismal old prison . . ." (p. 37) The awkward tracing of such "similarities" ignores the texture and tropes of novels of the period, as well as a whole history of fiction and of social ideas that had affected Wollstonecraft in her turn."

[Me] Again, Doody is dead wrong, Kirkham has actually gotten to the heart of the deep complex allusions to Wollstonecraft by JA, for which Kirkham deserves the highest praise. Doody is the one ignoring what JA had to say _in her novels_!


[Doody one last time] "Kirkham refuses to acknowledge the variations of feminism or social thought among women writers of the conservative and liberal as well as radical positions. Writers such as Charlotte Smith and Jane West are scarcely referred to; Austen seems to exist on an ideological island previously settled once and once only by Mary Wollstonecraft. "

[Me, one last time] And again, Doody blames Kirkham for not covering the entire field of Austen's feminist allusions, at a time when no other Austen scholar (other than the brilliant Allison Sulloway in the mid Seventies). I will rectify Kirkham’s excusable failure to cover everything, and show, as I have very recently written, Charlotte Smith was as big a source for JA as Wollstonecraft--and I am certain Kirkham would agree with that statement!

Cheers, ARNIE

Catherine Morland's name anagram

Earlier today, in Janeites and Austen-L, Anielka Briggs wrote: "Those of you who can see what I am on about and think they know Austen's "real" answer to the "Catherine Morland" anagram/homophone, please put me out of my misery and tell me. Can you see the name of a heroine contained in the letters of "Catherine Morland"? Those of you who just see a funnier anagram ("See more land : And Reclaim throne?? "A calm rodent in her"???) I dearly love to laugh and look forward to reading your suggestions."

Here is my reply:

Anielka, I have something even funnier and more misery-relieving than I think even you, with your first-rate puzzle solving talents, have imagined:

The answer to your question as to the anagram contained in Catherine Morland's name is that it is........




(scroll down)



it is.......



(scroll down)



it is......




(scroll down)



it is......


(scroll down)


it is.....



(scroll down)


it is....


(no more scrolling down)


....in Mr. Elton's charade......

......and yet, strangely, that answer is in Mr. Elton's charade in two completely different, and yet wonderfully complementary, ways.

How can this be?

Think about it, and surely someone will realize how, and come forward to explain--otherwise, I will do so myself, tomorrow a.m (EST).

Last hint: one of those two answers can be found without reading anything other than this message.

Cheers, ARNIE

Jane Austen, the inveterate punster, outdoes herself

OK, I have a small quiz for those Janeites who enjoy wordplay.

In the following statement by Lady Catherine during her momentous showdown with Lizzy at Longbourn, I have just discovered the literal English translation of a two-word idiom in a foreign language, an idiom which was frequently used by English speakers in JA's time, and which is still frequently used in our own time:

"My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this I shall certainly not depart from it."

Please note that the two words in English which together constitute a translation of the foreign idiom are NOT next to each other in Lady Catherine's statement.

And, to further add to JA's clever hiding of this common idiom in plain sight, Lady Catherine's statement also contains a punning hint as to which foreign language the idiom is from!

I believe someone is going to quickly guess the correct answer in each of the online venues where I am posting this little quiz, but if no one does by Friday at 5 pm EST, I will post the answer everywhere.

Happy hunting! ;)

Cheers, ARNIE

The Unsettling Shades of a Charlotte Smith “Romance of Real Life” cast on Pemberley & Mr. Darcy

For over two years, I have been firmly convinced that Charlotte Smith....

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlotte_Turner_Smith

....was the novelist who was most important to Jane Austen, in terms of inspiration for the covert radical feminism that I detect in JA’s novels. Of course, Richardson, Burney and Radcliffe’s novels were all hugely important, multiple allusive sources for JA. And there would have been very few significant English novels of the 18th and early 19th century that JA would _not_ have been very familiar with. But, I suggest, her engagement with Smith’s fiction was qualitatively different—something unique and special. Whereas with all the others, there are strong elements of parody and irony, I perceive that JA’s take on love and marriage was very very similar to Smith’s forthright radical feminist critique of male mistreatment of women.

I mention all this because today I came upon a particularly smoky “smoking gun” that illustrates how strong Smith’s influence really was on JA. It goes to the heart of Jane Austen’s fiction-- the character of Mr. Darcy--and, as you will read below, it casts very unsettling shades on the way JA wished her readers to see her most romantic hero, suggesting that the worst “pollution” may have come from within the walls of Pemberley.

Read on if you dare, gentle readers…..

In 1787 (when JA was 12), Charlotte Smith published “Romance of Real Life”, a series of vignettes drawn from a French book describing a number of “Causes Celebres”, accounts of trials for infamous crimes. The title of Smith’s book is thus immediately seen to be extremely ironic, even macabre, in light of the extraordinarily UNromantic nature of her stories!

The first such horrid real life story is that of “The Marchioness de Gange”, and it is the reason for my post today. It begins with the following extraordinary paragraph:

“It has been asserted, that there is in human nature a propensity to every kind of evil; and that persons of the best disposition, and most liberal education, may find themselves in such situations as will, if their passions are suffered to predominate, betray them into the most frightful excesses, into crimes which cannot be related without horror. Under the dominion of such dreadful passions the Abbe and the Chevalier de Gange must have been, when they committed the inhuman cruelties which are the subject of the following narrative.”

I called that passage “extraordinary” because most Janeites will immediately hear an echo of the above passage in Mr. Darcy’s very famous summation of human nature:
"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil -- a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome."

At first these two statements might seem not to be expressing a particularly unique opinion about human nature. Therefore, such opinion might be independently arrived at and asserted by various authors unknown to each other. However, upon more minute inspection, the repetition of the identical words “disposition”, “education”, and “evil”, coupled with the very specific (and disturbing) claim that even a good or liberal education, and/or a good disposition, was no guaranty against an outburst of evil under provocative circumstances, make it extremely likely that JA had Smith’s statement in mind when she put those specific words in Darcy’s mouth.

That likelihood increases markedly when one sets it alongside the many _other_ allusions to various of Charlotte Smith’s novels (Celestina, The Old Manor House, Emmeline, etc.) which have been detected by other scholars, as well as additional allusions I have personally discovered during the past two years.

So I feel safe in arguing that JA intended to allude to The Marchioness de Gange in Pride and Prejudice. But what does this allusion mean?

Read on if you dare…..

In the above quoted paragraph, Smith makes it clear that it is the Abbe and the Chevalier de Gange (who are brothers of the second husband of the tragic heroine of the story) whose “dreadful passions” are the persons being referred to by her aphorism about propensities to evil. I will focus today on the Abbe.

Shortly after he is introduced into the narrative, Smith chillingly describes the Abbe’s character as follows:

“…this diabolical spirit he had art enough to conceal, with the profoundest dissimulation, and could assume the appearance of the most amiable, benevolent, and honest man in the world, while his heart was the receptacle of every vice that disgraces human nature.”

We have seen these men before in JA’s novels, have we not? And in Pride and Prejudice, the name “Wickham” would immediately come to mind as a perfect example. The Abbe being, ostensibly at least, a man of God, fits perfectly with Wickham’s hypocrisy in claiming to have wished to be a giver of sermons himself.

And yet….is it that simple? If JA is only thinking about Wickham as a representation of Smith’s Abbe, why is it, then, that it is _Darcy_ who makes that comment about disposition to a particular evil, in connection with _his own_ character, in a rebuttal to Elizabeth’s zinger?:

“"Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me."

Darcy is scrambling to justify _his own_ resentful character, and only a few moments earlier in their battle of words, he has also made a claim which seems to directly contradict Smith’s dictum:

“Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride -- where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation."

“always under good regulation”…..hmm…..why would JA make a specific allusion to an authoritative statement by Charlotte Smith which suggests that “good regulation” of character can sometimes vanish, when strong passions have been aroused? Is JA thereby suggesting that Darcy is deluded as to his own character, and that his pride is _not_ always under good regulation?

And anyway, why would JA want to suggest a parallel between Darcy and the sociopathic Abbe from Smith’s story? If you read the story all the way through, as I have done, it is never in doubt that the Abbe is indeed a moral monster, a depraved sadist who justifies and rationalizes all manner of bestial and horrific actions, over an extended period of time--most of all, the savage, unprovoked, and premeditated murder of the saintly heroine of Smith’s story, who happens to be his sister in law! It is only at the very end of Smith’s account that the Abbe (in one of the two translations Smith relied upon) expresses any remorse at all. And by then, all the awful damage of his machinations has occurred, and is irreparable.
But, you might respond to me, at that early stage of P&P when Darcy’s first defends his own character, Lizzy is mistaken in her very bad opinion of Darcy, and also in her very good opinion of Wickham. And therefore, this logic goes, when Lizzy later undergoes her “conversion” after reading Darcy’s self-justifying “epistle” (and I now detect a very strong scent of epiphany and sudden religious conversion in the way that Lizzy’s opinions of Darcy and Wickham flip topsy turvy from that moment forward in the story), we readers are meant to revisit Darcy’s self-defense in our mind, and to bring our opinion in line with Lizzy’s, and to see the evil as really being in Wickham, not in Darcy.

But…(and you knew I had another “but” or three up my….sleeve), consider then the following excerpt from Smith’s story, describing how the Abbe is strongly attracted to his sister in law from the moment he first sees her:

“The uncommon charms of the Marchioness de Gange made an immediate and deep impression on the heart of this bad man, nor did the consideration of her being his brother's wife deter him a moment from forming designs upon her honour.”

You may well say that this is also Wickham picking up somehow on Darcy’s attraction to Lizzy, and therefore zeroing in on Lizzy himself. And that would be quite plausible.

But….how then to explain the very next sentence?:

“Scorning to put any restraint on his inclinations, however unwarrantable, he determined to attempt seducing Madame de Gange; and for this purpose, knowing the influence of gratitude on such a heart as hers, he began by endeavouring to oblige her.”

Hmm….at no point does Wickham ever seek to make Lizzy feel gratitude toward him. Pity, yes, but not gratitude. Whereas….to a cynic, this might sound very much like what Darcy does in the second half of P&P, when he takes extraordinary actions on behalf of Lizzy and her family. These all have the effect of generating a feeling of enormous gratitude in Lizzy.

But no, you retort, Darcy does not reveal his good deeds to Lizzy, she only discovers them by accident when Lydia blurts out that Darcy attended Lydia’s and Wickham’s wedding.

I will leave the explanation of that point (and I do have a good one) for another time, and instead return to Smith’s “Romance” and its account of how and why the Abbe reveals his good deeds to his sister in law, with my comments interspersed:
“As soon as an opportunity offered, [the Abbe] took care to tell her, that [her theretofore abusive husband’s] present attention, and kindness, was in consequence of what [the Abbe] had said in her favour—and he gave her at the same time to understand, that the heart of his brother was so entirely in his hands, that her treatment must depend wholly on him.—Disgusted at such a declaration, the Marchioness answered coolly, that she thanked him. — The Abbe was a good deal disappointed at the reception she gave him on this occasion. —He had flattered himself that she would have accepted with more vivacity his proffered services, and that, by first engaging her gratitude, he should in time create in her breast warmer sentiments in his favour.”

In terms of arrogant presumption, does this speech by the Abbe not remind us of Darcy’s first proposal to Lizzy? And so it is not surprising that it generates a response from the Marchioness which reminds us even more of Lizzy’s response to Darcy’s first proposal:

“But though a man of abilities, such as he possest, who determines to make himself agreeable, and has such continual opportunities of doing so, is above all others the most dangerous object a young woman can encounter; it happened that the dislike, even bordering on antipathy, which Madame de Gange had conceived, on the first sight of the Abbe, was an invincible obstacle to his designs. — Her manner towards him was civil, but so cold and distant, that he could very seldom find an occasion to speak to her apart.—And after some time, as he saw she studied to avoid him, and that all his assiduities made no impression on her, he determined to speak plainly, and to acknowledge his passion, in terms that she could not misunderstand.”

And we’ve only just begun, because here’s where the allusion becomes painfully obvious:

“The Marchioness had engaged herself to pass some days at the country residence of a friend,—Thither the Abbe followed her, and, as his conversation was extremely agreeable, he was received with pleasure by the whole party.—“

Just as Darcy shows up at Rosings just as Lizzy arrives at Hunsford visiting Charlotte Lucas!

And speaking of Charlotte Lucas, as I was writing this post, I realized that perhaps JA named her Charlotte as a way of pointing to Charlotte Smith herself! After all, Charlotte Smith survived a loveless debt-plagued marriage, and wrote as a matter of economic survival as much as artistic expression. And perhaps we might then see another tip of the hat to Charlotte Smith, hiding in plain sight in Charlotte Lucas’s most famous statement:

“I am not _romantic_, you know; I never was.”

Neither, I would suggest, was the author of , as I suggested, the extremely ironically titled “_Romance_ of Real Life”!

But there’s even more, as we next hear of how the Abbe, not being able to take no for an answer, has yet another go at the Marchioness:

“…A hunting party being proposed, at which every gentleman was to attend on a lady, the Abbe offered himself to escort Madame de Gange; which she accepted, with her usual cool civility, as a matter of perfect indifference.—As soon as the company began to disperse in the woods, the Abbe, who now saw the opportunity at hand that he had so long wished for, led Madame de Gange into the most unfrequented spot he could find, and then, with very little preface, made the confession he had meditated—but so abruptly, and with expressions so strong and ardent, that they inspired Madame de Gange with terror rather than pity —who turning _pale with surprise and anger_, could not immediately form any reply;”

In addition to reminding us of how Darcy repeatedly runs into Lizzy in various unfrequented spots in the vicinity of Hunsford and Rosings, do we not also recall first Darcy’s first words as he proposes?:

“You must allow me to tell you how _ardently_ I admire and love you."

And then the Abbe’s change of color unmistakably recalls the narration after Lizzy _coolly_ rejects Darcy’s first proposal?:

“Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantlepiece with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than _surprise_. His complexion became _pale with anger_, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature.”

And then we have even _more_ parallels to Lizzy’s reaction to Darcy’s proposal:
“…while the Abbe continued to declare himself with such violence of manner, and in terms so unequivocal, that she could not doubt of his being very much in earnest—and she saw, that to endeavour to laugh it off, as she would have done such a declaration from a less resolute lover, would have availed her nothing: assuming therefore an air more reserved than before, me said—" I will not, Monsieur l'Abbe, affect to misunderstand you; —but you must know how I ought to receive such a confession as you have presumed to make. “

Is that not echoed by Lizzy’s immortal reply to Darcy?:

“"In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot…”

As an aside, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love the way that JA, with her far greater genius than Smith as a composer of words, translates Smith’s rather pedestrian prose into immortal dialog equal to the immortal repartee of Beatrice and Benedick in Much Ado about Nothing!

And this suggests to me that JA loved Smith’s thinking, but was not a big fan of her actual writing, and so JA took it upon herself to package Smith’s worthy feminist ideas in the kind of first rate writing that would survive in the world, as JA’s novels have, even as Smith’s have long since faded into obscurity.

But back to Darcy and the Abbe. Here is the final telling allusion, as we first read of the Abbe’s response to rejection:

“The manner in which she pronounced these words, made them infinitely more mortifying to the Abbe, than the words themselves. Stung to the soul, his dissimulation entirely forsook him, and he fiercely answered—" Know you not, " Madam, when you brave my vengeance thus, that your fate is entirely in my hands? Have you forgotten that it is in my power to make you the most miserable of women—and that I will do so if you refuse to listen to me? In declining to return my passion, you risk having your life embittered by the severest trials. Love me, Madam, suffer me at least to hope that you will, and all my power shall be dedicated to your happiness and tranquillity."

Is this passage not the kissing cousin of Darcy’s outburst at Lizzy, in which he takes off the gloves and smears the entire Bennet family?

And now we have the twin of Lizzy’s reply:

“The Marchioness, still making an effort to command her indignation, replied—" As you affect to love, learn now to esteem me.—Be assured, Monsieur l'Abbe, that the dread of evils worse than death, shall never induce me to commit a wicked action."—"But," added she, as if to mortify him still more—" if I were indeed capable of such weakness, _you are the last man on earth who could influence me to be guilty of it._" So saying, she rejoined her company, leaving the Abbe overwhelmed with rage and confusion. — His pride so severely humbled, his love hopeless, irritated him almost to madness ; and, incapable with all his art of commanding his temper, while his heart was corroded by such uneasy sensations, he took a sullen leave of the lady of the house, and returned in the evening to Avignon, nobody but Madame de Gange being able to guess the cause of this sudden access of ill-humour, which all his complaisance and dissimulation did not enable him a moment to disguise.”

Of course, Lizzy mortifies Darcy with “…I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry."

So….I finish by repeating the question I posed at the beginning of this post, as to whether JA’s allusion to Smith’s “The Marchioness de Gange” was meant to draw a parallel between the abominable serpent-like Abbe and Wickham? Or Darcy?

The romantic interpretation would certainly be “Wickham”, but perhaps JA, like Charlotte Smith and Charlotte Lucas, was _also_ never romantic?

Before you give your final answer, I have kept for last, to convince the wavering skeptics among you, the most disturbing echo of Smith’s story in P&P, which occurs in Chapter 58, as Darcy and Lizzy debrief the course of their tempestuous courtship together. Darcy is in high confessional tone as he says:

“Unfortunately, an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing -- to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight-and-twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You shewed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased."
What reader’s heart does not melt when reading this extraordinary admission by an ardent but humbled lover?

Well, if you have a good ear, you will have picked up, in Darcy’s confession, an unwitting echo of the first passage I quoted, above, from Smith’s “Romance”:

“…this diabolical spirit he had art enough to conceal, with the profoundest dissimulation, and could assume the appearance of the most _amiable, benevolent_, and honest man in the world, while his heart was the receptacle of every vice that disgraces human nature.”

Smith makes it clear from the beginning of her account that the Abbe merely “assumes the appearance of the most amiable, benevolent and honest man in the world.” If JA means for us to understand that Darcy really has been “taught a lesson” by Lizzy, why (in the world) would JA have Darcy refer to his father as “all that was benevolent and amiable”, thereby causing the reader familiar with Smith to associate Darcy and his father with the Abbe?

Cheers, ARNIE