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Thanks! -- Arnie Perlstein, Portland, OR

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

A delightful Jane Austen quiz

Okay, a delightful Jane Austen quiz to usher in the summer solstice (here in the Northern Hemisphere):

Clue #1: There is a 2-sentence passage in Henry Austen’s (pretty short) 1818 Biographical Notice of Jane Austen… http://www.austen.com/persuade/preface.htm  …which is the common thread that unites ALL EIGHT of the following seemingly unconnected passages written by Jane Austen over a period of 21 years. Can you locate the passage in the Biographical Notice, and then explain the concealed connection to each of the eight passages?

Clue #2: There is another, ninth passage in JA’s writings which has long been universally acknowledged to be part of that same concealed connection:


1793: “Henry VIII: in The History of England:
“…a slight sketch of the principal Events which marked his reign. Among these may be ranked Cardinal Wolsey's telling the father Abbott of Leicester Abbey that "he was come to lay his bones among them,"
…Nothing can be said in his vindication, but that his abolishing Religious Houses & leaving them to the ruinous depredations of time has been of infinite use to the landscape of England in general, which probably was a principal motive for his doing it…”

1811: S&S Chapter 18:
"I am convinced," said Edward, "that you really feel all the delight in a fine prospect which you profess to feel. But, in return, your sister must allow me to feel no more than I profess…I do not like crooked, twisted, blasted trees. I admire them much more if they are tall, straight, and flourishing. I do not like ruined, tattered cottages….”

1813  P&P

Chapter 11: “…My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever."

Chapter 29:  Elizabeth found herself quite equal to the scene, and could observe the three ladies before her composedly…"…It is wonderful how many families I have been the means of supplying in that way. I am always glad to get a young person well placed out. Four nieces of Mrs. Jenkinson are most delightfully situated through my means…”

Chapter 35:  "Two offenses of a very different nature, and by no means of equal magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was, that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached Mr. Bingley from your sister, and the other, that I had, in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined the immediate prosperity and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham…”

Chapter 42: “The walk here being here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him before they met. Elizabeth, however astonished, was at least more prepared for an interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with calmness, if he really intended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed, she felt that he would probably strike into some other path. The idea lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their view; the turning past, he was immediately before them. With a glance, she saw that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate his politeness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place; but she had not got beyond the words "delightful," and "charming," when some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pemberley from her might be mischievously construed….” 

1814: Letter 97 to Cassandra Austen “I have seen nobody in London yet with such a long chin as Dr. Syntax, nor Anybody quite so large as Gogmagoglicus.”

1814: Letter 107 to Anna Austen Lefroy: “You describe a sweet place, but your descriptions are often more minute than will be liked. You give too many particulars of right hand and left. Mrs. Forester is not careful enough of Susan's health. Susan ought not to be walking out so soon after heavy rains, taking long walks in the dirt. An anxious mother would not suffer it. I like your Susan very much; she is a sweet creature, her playfulness of fancy is very delightful. I like her as she is now exceedingly, but I am not quite so well satisfied with her behavior to George R. At first she seems all over attachment and feeling, and afterwards to have none at all; she is so extremely confused at the ball, and so well satisfied apparently with Mr. Morgan. She seems to have changed her character. You are now collecting your people delightfully, getting them exactly into such a spot as is the delight of my life. Three or four families in a country village is the very thing to work on, and I hope you will do a great deal more, and make full use of them while they are so very favourably arranged.”  

As usual, I will reveal the answer in about two days, but I hope that I will receive some correct answers before then.

Cheers, ARNIE

@JaneAustenCode on Twitter

Friday, June 10, 2016

“Abominable” ghostwritten letters are key to decoding the Prince of W-h-ales subtext in Austen’s Emma

During the past several days, I’ve claimed, in two successive posts… http://tinyurl.com/guofpvm http://tinyurl.com/hneurvl   …that there’s a common connection underlying Jane Austen’s satire of the Prince Regent (aka the Prince of W-h-ales) which unites a dozen seemingly unconnected passages in Emma.

Today I return to outline that connection, which hinges on the repeated motif of strategically ghostwritten letters, combined with a cluster of 3 words (“abominable”, “indignation” and “warmest”), which appears 3 times in the text of Emma (as in the Magic Flute-like motif of the # 3: the 3 come-at-able ladies, the 3 teachers, Mr. Woodhouse’s 3 turns and 3x-baked apples, and 3 dull things at Box Hill) and leads (fittingly) to the following 3 significant inferences:

ONE: All Janeites know that Knightley correctly guesses that Emma ghostwrites Harriet Smith’s letter rejecting Robert Martin’s written proposal letter. However, only a few (including my friend Barbara Mann in 2002, and myself in 2005) have recognized that Knightley is primed to make this correct guess, because “it takes one to know one”, i.e., it is Knightley himself (not, as Emma guesses, the Martin sisters) who, despite his claim of never engaging in deceit, ghostwrites Robert Martin’s proposal letter. That’s why he gets so angry, he’s been beaten at his own game by the unwitting Emma!

TWO: Knightley turns out to be a serial ghostwriter, given that he also ghostwrites the latter part of Frank Churchill’s long letter to Mrs. Weston (which comprises almost all of Chapter 50), forcing Frank to pretend that he and Jane were engaged all along, when Jane and Frank actually only had a sexual affair, initiated by Jane, who was seeking a husband after she found herself pregnant by the married John Knightley.

THREE: By echoing of key words and phrases, Jane Austen also meant her political tabloid-savvy readers to recognize her veiled allusion to Princess Caroline’s highly publicized January 1813 letter to her husband the Prince Regent, in which the Princess urges him to stop preventing her from having a real relationship with their daughter Princess Charlotte. It must have been obvious to those knowledgeable political observers that the Princess’s letter, which was far too well-written to have actually been authored by the foreign-born, legally unsavvy Princess, was ghostwritten. We know today that the ghostwriter was Henry (later Lord) Brougham, a Whig reformer and skilled advocate on her behalf.

That’s the gist of my argument, but now I will give you the highlights of the textual evidence in Emma
which I say supports my claims:

Ch. 43:  "Oh! for myself, I protest I must be excused," said Mrs. Elton; "I really cannot attempt—I am not at all fond of the sort of thing. I had an acrostic once sent to me upon my own name, which I was not at all pleased with. I knew who it came from. An ABOMINABLE PUPPY!—You know who I mean (nodding to her husband). 

I realized a decade ago that the “abominable puppy” Mrs. Elton refers to but doesn’t name--yet her husband Mr. Elton know exactly who she means---is Frank Churchill, who, several months earlier, while out on the singles social circuit with his “wing man”, that very same Mr. Elton, had jilted the then Miss Hawkins when he made his sudden trip to London for a “haircut”, because Frank believes he has good prospects for marrying Emma!
By that derisive term “abominable puppy”, Mrs. Elton, the proverbial woman scorned, invokes Trinculo’s description of the monstrous Caliban in The Tempest, and throws in a racist innuendo that Frank is of mixed race, to boot:

CALIBAN     I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject.  
STEPHANO  Come on then; down, and swear. 
TRINCULO   I shall laugh myself to death at this PUPPY-headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him,-- 
STEPHANO  Come, kiss.
TRINCULO   But that the poor m in drink: an ABOMINABLE monster!


Ch. 49:  "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.—Your own excellent sense—your exertions for your father's sake—I know you will not allow yourself—." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the WARMEST friendship—INDIGNATION—ABOMINABLE  scoundrel!"—And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for her. She deserves a better fate."

As to Knightley’s second sentence, it is (as with Mrs. Elton’s “abominable puppy”) Frank Churchill whom Knightley is muttering about; and he speaks it in “a more subdued accent”, because, as I also pointed out a decade ago, those are three words/phrases which all also appear in significant passages in Frank’s letter to Mrs. Weston in Chapter 50.
This tells us, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that at a minimum Knightley has already read Frank’s letter in Chapter 49 (even though we hear in Chapter 51, when Emma and Knightley discuss Frank’s letter, that Knightley is supposedly reading the letter for the first time!); and at a maximum, Knightley has (as I stated above) dictated the latter part of Frank’s letter, much the same way that all Janeites know that the new Mrs. Willoughby dictates Willoughby’s jilting letter to Marianne in S&S.


Ch. 39:    In the few minutes' conversation which [Emma] had yet had with [Frank], while Harriet had been partially insensible, he had spoken of her terror, her naivete, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a sensibility amused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet's own account had been given, he had expressed his INDIGNATION at the ABOMINABLE folly of Miss Bickerton in the WARMEST terms.

What I didn’t realize till last week, despite my longstanding awareness of those three words/phrases being echoed by Knightley before he is supposed to have read them in Frank’s letter, is that these same three words actually also appear in Frank’s above, negative appraisal of Miss Bickerton’s leaving Harriet in the lurch. What does this treble echoing in these three seemingly unconnected passages mean? I suggest that they all point to a common denominator, the “abominable” Frank.


Ch. 20 “…Manners were all that could be safely judged of, under a much longer knowledge than they had yet had of Mr. Churchill. [Jane] believed every body found his manners pleasing."
            Emma could not forgive her.
Ch. 21 Emma could not forgive her; --but as neither provocation nor resentment were discerned by Mr. Knightley, who had been of the party, and had seen only proper attention and pleasing behaviour on each side…

What Jane Austen means by having the anadiplosis of “Emma could not forgive her” (that bridges Chapters 20 & 21) strongly echo the following famous passage in her 02/16/13 letter [Letter 82] to Martha Lloyd about “the Princess of Wales”, is, I believe, an in-joke for Martha Lloyd’s private benefit, in light of the veiled allusion to the Princess’s letter which prompted JA’s following comment in Letter 82:

“I suppose all the World is sitting in Judgement upon the Princess of Wales’s Letter.  Poor Woman, I shall support her as long as I can, because she is a Woman, & because I hate her Husband—but I CAN HARDLY FORGIVE HER for calling herself “attached & affectionate” to a Man whom she must detest..I do not know what to do about it; but if I must give up the Princess, I am resolved at least always to think that she would have been respectable, if the Prince had behaved only tolerably by her at first.”


And I conclude with the following highlights from the Princess’s famous (ghostwritten) letter to her husband the Prince Regent, with the words/phrases echoed in Emma (in the passages in my first post, linked above) in ALL CAPS:

"Sir, It is with great reluctance that I presume to OBTRUDE myself upon your Royal Highness, and to solicit your attention to matters which may, at first, appear rather of a personal than a public nature.
…I should continue, in silence and retirement, to lead the life which has been prescribed to me, and console myself for the loss of that society and those domestic COMFORTS to which I have so long been a stranger, by the reflection that it has been deemed proper I should be AFFLICTED without any fault of my own—and that your Royal Highness knows. But, Sir, there are considerations of a higher nature than any regard to my own happiness, which render this address a duty both to myself and my daughter. May I venture to say —a duty also to my husband, and the people committed to his care? There is a point beyond which a guiltless woman cannot with safety carry her forbearance.
It is impossible, sir, that any one can have attempted to persuade your Royal Highness, that her character will not be injured by the perpetual violence offered to her strongest affections—the studied care taken to estrange her from my society, and even to interrupt all communication between us. That her love for me, with whom, by his Majesty's wise and gracious arrangements, she passed the years of her infancy and childhood, never can be extinguished, I well know, and the knowledge of it forms THE GREATEST BLESSING OF MY EXISTENCE. But let me implore your Royal Highness to reflect how inevitably all attempts to abate this attachment, by forcibly separating us, if they succeed, must injure my child's principles —if they fail, must destroy her happiness.
The plan of excluding my daughter from all intercourse with the world, appears to my humble judgment peculiarly unfortunate. She who is destined to be the sovereign of this great country, enjoys none of those advantages of society which are deemed necessary for imparting a knowledge of mankind to persons who have infinitely less occasion to learn that important lesson; and it may so happen, by a chance which I trust is very remote, that she should be called upon to exercise the powers of the Crown, with an experience of the world more confined than that of the most private individual. To the extraordinary talents with which she is blessed, and which accompany a DISPOSITION as singularly amiable, frank, and decided, I willingly trust much; but beyond a certain point the greatest natural endowments cannot struggle against the disadvantages of circumstances and situation.
To the same unfortunate counsels I ascribe a circumstance in every way so DISTRESSING both to my parental and religious feelings, that my daughter has never yet enjoyed the benefit of confirmation, although above a year older than the age at which all the other branches of the royal family have partaken of that solemnity.”  END QUOTE FROM PRINCESS CAROLINE’S JANUARY 1813 LETTER

Cheers, ARNIE

@JaneAustenCode on Twitter

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Mrs. Bennet’s triumph over Darcy: a radical explanation

The steady flow of Pride & Prejudice fanfics continues to flood the world of Jane Austen, unabated since it first welled up in the aftermath of the great 1996 A&E/BBC P&P film starring Ehle & Firth. However, every so often, one comes out (such as McCullough’s The Independence of Mary Bennet and P.D. James’s Death Comes to Pemberley) that provides a welcome alternative to hyper-romance and monsters. I may’ve just stumbled upon another such rare spinoff from P&P – Mrs. Bennet’s Sentiments by Dori Salerno:

Here’s the blurb that, together with the sample chapter at Amazon.com, gives me hope that Saleron’s novel is a worthy presentation of the story of P&P from the point of view of a non-foolish Mrs. Bennet:     “Jane Austen’s mother tells all! Jane Austen's Mrs. Bennet, mother of five difficult teenage daughters, is silent no more. Those who grew up enjoying Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" will delight in "Mrs. Bennet's Sentiments". Tired of having her ungrateful girls roll their eyes at her, and watching her husband return to his man cave, Mrs. Bennet finally tells all. "Mrs. Bennet surprises them all." "She defies the conventions of the day -- proving the old adage 'Mother knows best'".”

This theme caught my eye, because Mrs. Bennet is one of the many secondary characters in P&P who I have long believed are very different in the shadow story of P&P than in the overt story. In the latter, Mrs. Bennet is viewed from Elizabeth’s decidedly jaundiced point of view of her mother, which infuses the narrator’s initial, withering narrative assessment of her:

“…the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and news.”

There’s also prior scholarly support for an alternative view of Mrs. Bennet. In Judith Wylie’s excellent "Dancing in chains: feminist satire in Pride and Prejudice." Persuasions 22 (2000), which I heartily recommend you all to read in full, we read:

“…in the tradition of the satiric trickster, Austen turns her comedic message inside out, by interpolating within the seemingly conservative tenor of her novels a satiric feminist subtext quite at odds with the surface conventionality, a strategy that Susan Fraiman calls "counternarrative." This dialogic style allows women writers to "argue in the same track as men" through their depiction of the "ideal" female but also to present "dissident tracks" that undercut this patriarchal icon of feminine behavior. These "dissident tracks" are often traversed by a minor female character whose words and behavior are criticized while the heroine, conforming to the romantic narrative direction of the text, is held up as the untarnished role model. In Pride and Prejudice, the "dissident track" is cut by a truth-telling female monster, Mrs. Bennet, who is employed to question masculine prerogatives. On the surface, Mrs. Bennet seems to be the perfect subject for ridicule because she appears to be truly silly and mindless. The author's veiled feminist message is revealed only when the reader looks past the humor aimed at women and then asks why a character such as Mrs. Bennet acts as she does….”

I take Wylie’s excellent reading of Mrs. Bennet against the grain as a starting point, but I believe Mrs. Bennet can plausibly be seen as having many hidden depths and much mystery. For example, she may well be very intelligent, even sly. Very much as with my reading of Miss Bates in the shadow story of Emma, one can see Mrs. Bennet’s dithering motormouth persona as an act designed to keep her off the radar, so she can operate discreetly in the shadows.

And, in a different vein, as I blogged a few years ago here…. http://sharpelvessociety.blogspot.com/2014/09/mary-musgroves-complaintand-mrs-bennets.html   ….  Mrs. Bennet’s perpetual “nerves” may be seen as a Regency Era precursor of the classic “Dear I’ve got a headache” excuse given by the stereotypical modern wife who wishes to avoid her conjugal “duties”.

And…I’ve also found textual evidence that suggests that Mrs. Bennet is not merely foolish, but might actually be psychotic, having an imaginary friend named Mrs. Long: http://tinyurl.com/pbhcxay

But most relevant of all to my understanding of the tumultuous courtship of Elizabeth by Darcy, is my longstanding firm belief that the shadow Mrs. Bennet actually knows some very important, even explosive facts about Mr. Darcy, which she feels she cannot share with daughter Elizabeth. This puts Mrs. Bennet in the same category of secondary female character in P&P as Charlotte Lucas, Mrs. Gardiner, and Mary Bennet, in that I see them all, in the shadow story, operating behind the scenes, in order to influence the outcome of that courtship.

And that brings me to the topic I had originally planned to write about this week, even before I came upon Mrs. Bennet’s Sentiments. Last month, I mentioned a particularly interesting essay in the Norton Critical Edition of P&P, one part of which I wanted to discuss and react to. That article is “Getting the Whole Truth in Pride and Prejudice“ by Tara Ghoshal Wallace from Jane Austen and Narrative Authority (1995) 45-58, which can actually be accessed online here: http://www.palgraveconnect.com/pc/doifinder/view/10.1057/9780230372948

While I urge you all to read Wallace’s entire article, here’s the beginning, to which I will respond, particularly because it relates directly and specifically to my above discussion of Mrs. Bennet as intelligent and sly:

“Of all Jane Austen's novels, Pride and Prejudice ends most serenely. The marriage that will perfectly balance Elizabeth Bennet's 'ease and liveliness' with Fitzwilliam Darcy's 'judgement, information, and knowledge of the world,' the stability of Pemberley and the capitulation of even Miss Bingley and Lady Catherine all point to a closure which eliminates ambiguities and achieves coherence. Impediments (the Bennet family's vulgarities, for example) become irrelevant, and mysteries (such as Mr Bingley's inconsiderate behaviour) are cleared up.
Looking back at the narrative, however, I locate three puzzling moments not adequately explained or contained by the text's impulse towards clarity and closure. And in attempting to 'solve' the mysteries of these moments, I discover not only their resistance to my efforts to fix meaning but also a general epistemological uncertainty. Pride and Prejudice thematizes a narrative problem: it exposes the inadequacies alike of careful reticence, of ambiguity, and of absolute assurance, demonstrating how each of these strategies serves to block access to the 'whole truth' in narrative.” END QUOTE, WALLACE

So far, so good, and now here’s the part that relates to Mrs. Bennet as an intelligent woman:

“The first of the baffling but provocative moments describes a reaction to one of Mrs Bennet's many mindless assertions. To Elizabeth's generalization, 'people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever,' Mrs Bennet adds, 'Yes indeed ... I assure you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town.' Then follows narrative commentary on the effect of her statement: 'Every body was surprised; and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently- away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete victory over him, continued her triumph.' There is no explanation as to why this innocuous inanity should give rise to so much surprise, silence and triumph. “

If you read the rest of Wallace’s essay at the above link, as best I understand her conclusions, she tries to have it both ways, purporting to both honor the happy ending, but at the same time suggest some larger purpose to the cruxes and uncertainties she discusses. For me this is quintessential orthodox Austen scholarship: a competent close-reader of the text detects irregularities and ambiguities, asks good questions, but then is unable to provide a satisfying explanation. And the reason she cannot explain her  discovery, is because her belief system about what an Austen novel can be is fatally limited.

So, how do I give a better explanation for why Mrs. Bennet’s “innocuous inanity should give rise to so much surprise, silence and triumph”?

Very simple. I’ve previously pointed out, dating back to 2010, that Mrs. Bennet’s triumph makes perfect sense, if she and Darcy have been speaking to each other in code during that entire scene in the Netherfield salon, a code that Eliza (and therefore also the reader) is not privy to.

Let me therefore provide you some interspersed, decoding commentary to translate each Mrs. Bennet’s statements, to show the deeper reason why she comes to Netherfield—which is to confront Darcy with a reminder of a very unpleasant fact about Jane’s “illness” which he would rather forget, now that he has turned his amorous attention to Elizabeth. That unpleasant fact, which I first spoke about publicly in 2011 to the SoCal JASNA chapter, is that Darcy (to put it bluntly) knocked Jane Bennet up during her last visit with the Gardiners a few months earlier in London!

Regardless of whether you’ve read my prior posts that have touched on this point, and what you think about them, I invite you all to let me walk you through this scene anyway, and show you how it fits into that particular subtextual theme in the shadow story of P&P—see what you think:

“…Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast….. [Bingley] "I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful."
"That is as it happens. It does not follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours."

"Lizzy," cried her mother, "remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home."
[TRANSLATION: “Lizzy, don’t you dare say anything that will scare Bingley away from marrying Jane, because she needs to be married soon or we Bennets will have a BIG problem!”]

“I did not know before," continued Bingley immediately, "that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study."
"Yes, but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage."
"The country," said Darcy, "can in general supply but a few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society.”
"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever."

"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning a country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of THAT going on in the country as in town."
[TRANSLATION: “Lizzy, don’t say anything that will cause Bingley to observe how Jane’s body is beginning to “alter”. And Darcy, don’t think I don’t know you knocked Jane up when she was in town!” That’s the “triumph” Elizabeth observes, without having a clue as to its meaning. And that’s why Darcy looks at Mrs. Bennet for a moment, and then turns silently away].

Everybody was surprised, and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete victory over him, continued her triumph.

"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country, for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is it not, Mr. Bingley?"
[TRANSLATION: Mrs. Bennet picks up on the “country” sexual innuendo that Hamlet made famous why talking to Ophelia about “country matters”, and she is saying, in code, Jane is a vast deal pleasanter than any alternative for Bingley.]

"When I am in the country," he replied, "I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."

"Aye—that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman," looking at Darcy, "seemed to think the country was nothing at all."
[TRANSLATION: Just because Darcy doesn’t want to marry Jane after knocking her up, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t, Mr. Bingley”]

"Indeed, Mamma, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there was not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in the town, which you must acknowledge to be true."

"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four-and-twenty families."
[TRANSLATION: “And by the way, Mr. Darcy, Jane is approaching 24 weeks of pregnancy, and is therefore getting larger!” Bingley and his sister both get the “joke”, and that’s why he can hardly keep his countenance, and she smiles expressively at Darcy, not the reason Elizabeth infers. As you can see, Elizabeth is much more like Emma than has previously been understood.]

Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eyes towards Mr. Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of saying something that might turn her mother's thoughts, now asked her if Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since her coming away.

"Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir William is, Mr. Bingley, is not he? So much the man of fashion! So genteel and easy! He has always something to say to everybody. That is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves very important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter."
[TRANSLATION: “Mr. Darcy, you’ve turned my eldest daughter into a “breeding animal”, don’t you dare do anything to deter Bingley from marrying Jane!”]

"Did Charlotte dine with you?"
"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince-pies. For my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work; my daughters are brought up very differently. But everybody is to judge for themselves, and the Lucases are a very good sort of girls, I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think Charlotte so very plain—but then she is our particular friend."
[TRANSLATION: “Lizzy, how can you be so clueless about Charlotte? She’s a lesbian in love with you and you still don’t realize it!”]

[Bingley] "She seems a very pleasant young woman."

"Oh! dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, Jane—one does not often see anybody better looking. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a man at my brother Gardiner's in town so much in love with her that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But, however, he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were."
[TRANSLATION: “Charlotte is a lesbian, but Jane is beautiful and straight, PLUS, Mr. Darcy, in case you would also like to forget, it was YOU who was first introduced to her by my brother Gardiner—your business associate---six years ago in London, and you wrote her some pretty poetry then before you jilted her without warning.”]

"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"
"I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said Darcy.
[TRANSLATION: That’s why Darcy defends the unnamed poet—it’s because it was him! And that’s why he “only smiled” in the next paragraph]

"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."
Darcy only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again. She longed to speak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short silence Mrs. Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy.  END QUOTE

And that is my explanation for the anomaly that Tara Ghoshal Wallace first pointed out 22 years ago. 

Cheers, ARNIE

@JaneAustenCode on Twitter

Four more questions about connections to the Prince of W-h-ales subtext in Jane Austen’s Emma

Tomorrow, I’ll be back to reveal the common connection to Jane Austen’s satire of the Prince Regent (aka the Prince of W-h-ales) which I claim unites all those seemingly unconnected passages I quoted from Emma the other day. In the interim, I give you some questions about four of those quoted passages, the answers to which may make that connection more visible (and some of you may recall my past posts about these quoted passages):

Ch. 43:
"Oh! for myself, I protest I must be excused," said Mrs. Elton; "I really cannot attempt—I am not at all fond of the sort of thing. I had an acrostic once sent to me upon my own name, which I was not at all pleased with. I knew who it came from. An abominable puppy!—You know who I mean (nodding to her husband). 

Who is the “abominable puppy” Mrs. Elton refers to, why doesn’t she name him, how does her husband know who she means, and why does Mrs. Elton’s reference to “an abominable puppy” echo the Trinculo’s descriptions of the “monster” Caliban in The Tempest, 2.2?:

CALIBAN     I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject.
STEPHANO  Come on then; down, and swear.
TRINCULO   I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him,--
STEPHANO  Come, kiss.
TRINCULO   But that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable monster!


Ch. 49:
"Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.—Your own excellent sense—your exertions for your father's sake—I know you will not allow yourself—." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship—indignation—abominable  scoundrel!"—And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for her. She deserves a better fate."

As to Knightley’s second sentence, who is Knightley talking about, why doesn’t he name him, and why does Knightley speak it in “a more subdued accent” that his direct statements to Emma?


Ch. 39:  
In the few minutes' conversation which [Emma] had yet had with [Frank], while Harriet had been partially insensible, he had spoken of her terror, her naivete, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a sensibility amused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet's own account had been given, he had expressed his indignation at the abominable folly of Miss Bickerton in the warmest terms.

What is the meaning of the echoing between the verbiage of the above passage and that of the above two previously quoted passages (in Chapters 43 & 49)?


Ch. 20 “…Manners were all that could be safely judged of, under a much longer knowledge than they had yet had of Mr. Churchill. [Jane] believed every body found his manners pleasing."
            Emma could not forgive her.
Ch. 21 Emma could not forgive her; --but as neither provocation nor resentment were discerned by Mr. Knightley, who had been of the party, and had seen only proper attention and pleasing behaviour on each side…

What does Jane Austen mean by having the anadiplosis of “Emma could not forgive her” (that bridges Chapters 20 & 21) strongly echo the following famous passage in her 02/16/13 letter [Letter 82] to Martha Lloyd about “the Princess of Wales”?:

 “I suppose all the World is sitting in Judgement upon the Princess of Wales’s Letter.  Poor Woman, I shall support her as long as I can, because she is a Woman, & because I hate her Husband—but I can hardly forgive her for calling herself “attached & affectionate” to a Man whom she must detest..I do not know what to do about it; but if I must give up the Princess, I am resolved at least always to think that she would have been respectable, if the Prince had behaved only tolerably by her at first.”


Cheers, ARNIE

@JaneAustenCode on Twitter

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

My interview with Diane Reynolds about her new book, The Doubled Life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer

I am so pleased today to have the opportunity to talk with my good friend Diane Reynolds about her new book, The Doubled Life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Women, Sexuality, and Nazi Germany:

Those who read my blog regularly have often seen Diane’s name, invariably in the context of some aspect of Jane Austen’s writing and/or biography as to which Diane and I are in agreement. Indeed, Diane and I have become friends over the past 7 years in no small part via our continuing shared fascination and love for Jane Austen’s writing, and our belief that the real Jane Austen, two centuries after her death, has still not really been seen by her large worldwide readership and fanbase.

Diane and I have spurred each other on, in the quest for a clearer understanding of the real lives and characters of Austen and other women in her era, via Austen’s fiction and her letters---and along the way, we’ve been helping each other debunk aspects of the Myth of Jane Austen that has been obscuring that truth for two centuries.

I’m so glad that Diane has now taken a similar approach to demystifying the life of this extraordinary man, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, with particular emphasis on the women in his life, about whom I knew nothing before hearing about, and that I’ve finally gotten to read Diane’s engrossing book. And let me also add, Diane has the extraordinary gift of expressing deep and complex ideas without even a hint of jargon or ego, which is extremely rare in scholarly writing.

One of the things that piqued my curiosity about Diane’s book is that connection between the obscurity surrounding Austen (who tragically died at 41 in 1817), and the mystery surrounding the relationship of  Bonhoeffer (who tragically died at 39 in 1945) with the women in his life. However, in Bonhoeffer’s case, the situation is flipped, because he’s the famous person, and it’s the women close to him who’ve been ignored, whereas with Austen she’s the famous person who nonetheless (and ironically) has not been accurately portrayed in much of the scholarly and popular writing about her.

With that brief introduction, then, here’s a transcript of our chat the other day:

A: Diane, did studying Austen lead you to studying Bonhoeffer, or vice versa, or no connection?

D: Austen and Bonhoeffer have been two separate tracks, but mystery links both figures. In Austen, I was tantalized at something I sensed dancing behind her texts, just out of view. Likewise, I found myself entangled in Bonhoeffer because women seemed inexplicably erased from his life story. I wanted in both cases to know what was going on. I found both compelling figures in their own rights: both are artists. I loved Austen's six novels and I loved Bonhoeffer's Letters and Papers from Prison, but it was the mystery that pulled me in. Then with Bonhoeffer, I found myself wanting to get in the skin of his times, to try to understand what he and the women might be thinking.

A: In the case of Austen, you and I know that there were key figures in Austen family history who decisively shaped that exclusionary version of her life --was that the case in Bonhoeffer's biography as well? For example, did his sister or any other woman in his life ever write their version of things?

D: Bonhoeffer’s biographer and best friend, Eberhard Bethge, cannily devised Bonhoeffer’s life story in a huge biography that floods the reader with details but says almost nothing about the women--it really distorts and it is a labyrinth--deliberately. Bonhoeffer’s sister, his twin, with whom he was very close, Sabine, left a memoir, and she cooperated with the first bio of Bonhoeffer, before Bethge's. She steered the story, but left clues. It was Bethge who deliberately obscured things. Sabine, like many in the Austen family, was concerned with image, but was an honest person too.

A: And then all subsequent biographers ignored her memoir? Were you able to read it?

D: People don't look much at her memoir. I read it multiple times. People will lean into Sabine for childhood stories. They lose how close the two were all their lives.

A: Can you give an example or two of the kind of insight she provided, that has been missing from other male-oriented bios?

D: She emphasizes that Bonhoeffer was no saint. I think of James Edward Austen Leigh’s (JEAL) saintly portrait of his Aunt Jane Austen, but Sabine wouldn't go there: she paints a positive picture, but notes that he wasn't perfect and brings up that German males were basically chauvinist pigs. She says it more politely than that. She says Bonhoeffer “was no pillar saint."
Bethge, like the Austens, basically didn't want people to know things, such as that Bonhoeffer was same sex oriented and that he, Bethge, schemed for years to marry Bonhoeffer's niece, Renate.

A: As you know, I’ve written a lot about the many ways that JEAL sneakily but systematically distorted the picture of his aunt: both metaphorically, but also literally, in that he commissioned a revision of JA’s sister’s authentic sketch of JA when JA was 35, and turned a no-nonsense glaring countrywoman into a placid cow-like smiler.
And JEAL wasn’t the first, Bethge also sounds a lot like Jane’s brother Henry Austen in his Bio Notice of Jane Austen, published the year after her death, which kicked off what I call the Myth of Jane Austen that is still going strong two centuries later.
So, getting back to Bonhoeffer, from what you gathered from Sabine’s Memoir, what do you speculate Sabine would think of your book, if she were able to read it today- would she say, "Thank God someone has really gotten the complexity of my brother’s life?”

D: I think she would have mixed feelings. She wanted to protect the family franchise, but she would have, I think, not been altogether unhappy. Yes, Bethge could be likened to Henry Austen. One good thing about the Bonhoeffers--they didn't destroy letters wholesale. We can get a more complete story. Some key letters got "lost" but that is different from whole packets consigned to the flames. I am still hopeful that more Austen letters will show up.

A: Me too as to those Austen letters! I sometimes wonder some still exist, but are being deliberately concealed by family who don't want something "dark" (such as, e.g., her support for radical feminist causes or her complicated personal sexual preference) about Jane Austen to be made public.
…I meant to ask about Dietrich's attitude but I am glad you responded re the sister's...

D:  I wonder sometimes how both Austen and Bonhoeffer would have felt about their true stories being told. I don't know that either would have liked it. I don't think Bonhoeffer would have. What do you think about Austen?

A: Contrary to the near universal belief that Austen shunned public attention, I believe she was desperate for her true life to be known, most of all in regard to her complicated sexuality, and also her desire to be an inspiration to women to become conscious of their oppressed status. I see her last poem (“But behold me immortal!”) as a literal last gasp shaking her fist at all the forces squelching her voice.

D: I am more inclined to think Austen wanted to be put her story out there--and yes, the final poem supports that. I think DB would have been more reticent--but I don't know. He died in another time and place.

A: Do his theological writings in any way shed light on his personal self?

D: For him the personal was always the theological and vice versa, so yes, they do. I wonder how he would have been, say, post Stonewall. In his time and place, he wasn't going to say he was same-sex oriented.

A: Makes sense - gay liberation was not even a possibility then, so he opted instead for the struggle against Hitler.

D: He definitely comes from a more privileged location than Austen too--he was a male, had money, autonomy, voice--his twin sister, Sabine, is more of a cognate to Austen, and more likely to appreciate her full story being told.

A: Which leads to my next question -- can you glean any sense of how his theology was influenced by her?

D: As a woman married to a Jew in Nazi Germany, she was more silenced the way Austen may have been--she just couldn't speak her mind.

A: Did she marry a Jew before Hitler's rise?

D: Yes, she married a Jew in 1926--even then the family was worried, but supported her.

A: Did she support his decision to become a man of the cloth?

D: Sabine was Bonhoeffer’s first theological partner and his theology, his absolute desire to oppose Hitler and Hitler's church-based anti-Semitism was driven by great worry about her and her husband and their two daughters. It was personal. And yes, she supported him in becoming a pastor.

A: So interesting -- as I read your 2014 blog post about Austen and Bonhoeffer, I was reminded of Edward Ferrars's and Edmund Bertram's decisions to become clergymen.

D: Yes. And Austen supported her brothers too.

D: I am sure Bonhoeffer never wavered in his opposition to any kind of anti-Semitism because of her, and also because of his brother in law, who was also Jewish, though Hitler absolved him of that "stain" in 1940. It was personal.

A: So...are you suggesting that if his sister had not married a Jew, Bonhoeffer might not have followed his anti-Hitler path as he did?

D: The entire family was completely opposed to National Socialism, but yes, I think Bonhoeffer was human and Jewish persecution might not have been as urgent, as pressing to him, without her. What I am saying is yes, the opposition is driven not only by abstract theology, but by a need to protect his sister and her husband. They are in grave danger and can't speak for themselves. Jews just couldn't.

A: I’m reminded of Jane Austen’s shadow stories there – I think that she saw herself as giving a voice to what English women were afraid to even think, let alone speak out loud. The best example is the high incidence of death in childbirth that combined with serial pregnancy to generate a very high death rate for young married English gentlewomen. While JA could not express her outrage publicly, her surviving letters are filled with sarcastic comments about wives caught in this insidious trap literally for decades, and I believe Northanger Abbey’s shadow story is at its heart concerned with this plague on English wives, whom, I believe, JA wished to inspire to start talking about this domestic Gothic horror.

D: I think they both had to say what they meant in veiled ways.

A: Did you find evidence of him and his sister talking about Nazism through a Christian lens?

D: Well, I am not sure what you mean. They both abhorred the attempt to hijack the Christian Church and turn it Aryan. They wished more Christians would stand up to Hitler but unfortunately that didn't happen.

A: I was just wondering if she and he conversed at any point in theological language -- was that an intellectual realm that she entered too? Or did she influence his theological stance in other modalities?

D: Really we don't have a record of that, except a few oblique hints. It's largely a blank, although they surely discussed theology. She does mention that they talked over his pacifism in 1939--and in Nazi Germany, there was no CO option--if you declared as a pacifist, they basically shot you. He was able to talk this over with her and she understood and supported him--most of his theological partners in Germany couldn't comprehend being a pacifist. It was just not something they could wrap their brains around and she could, completely. And his close friend Ruth, understood, but advised him to lay low, as she knew what kind of trouble he could get into. She was right.  The women he was closest to did understand the pacifist stance in a way German men in that era couldn't.

A: Same as in the time of Aeschylus and in the time of Trump.

D: Yes. Warfare is still tied up with masculinity.

A: Apropos the ignoring of women close to a “great man”, I have a quick aside I think you will enjoy. Laurie Anderson the performance artist/poet, put out something sharply ironic in that regard about 20 years ago. When you first told me the premise for your book about telling the untold female story, I was immediately reminded of one particular part of Anderson’s great music/spoken word album "Stories from the Nerve Bible" Here is the text of it:
"the only sadder cemetery I saw was last summer in Switzerland. And I was dragged there by a Hermann Hesse fanatic, who had never recovered from reading Steppenwolf, and one hot August morning when the sky was quiet, we made a pilgrimage to the cemetery; we brought a lot of flowers and we finally found his grave. It was marked with a huge fir tree and a mammoth stone that said "Hesse" in huge Helvetica bold letters. It looked more like a marquee than a tombstone. And around the corner was this tiny stone for his wife, Nina, and on it was one word: "Auslander" foreigner. And this made me so sad and so mad that I was sorry I'd brought the flowers. Anyway, I decided to leave the flowers, along with a mean note, and it read: Even though you're not my favorite writer, by long shots, I leave these flowers on your resting spot."
Sadly, it sounds like women being relegated to the shadows is a common denominator in the realm of the arts and theology just as much as in other fields. It also makes me wonder whether Jane’s oldest brother James, the “golden child” of the family, had the idea that books would be written about him, but then little sister Jane did not get the memo, and became the famous one in the family instead.

D: Yes interesting. Nobody in the Austen expected Jane to be their claim to fame and nobody in the Bonhoeffer family expected it to be Dietrich. They thought he had thrown his life away by studying theology. One thing too I think is a backdrop common to both Bonhoeffer and Austen is the high level of censorship--we KNOW that about Nazi Germany, but also England is in the Napoleonic Wars--the last great war until the 20th century, and the leadership is seriously worried and writers can't say what they want, certainly nothing republican or even semi radical. There never was a First Amendment in England. I think we forget how severely Austen was curtailed. It’s very interesting, because her Regency English culture is much closer to Nazi German culture than either one are to American culture. We find it so surprising, for instance, that both cultures thought Republics were dangerous: to us, being a Republic is ingrained.

A: Yes, and especially if the writer was a woman who wanted to blow the whistle on everything about life in England that was bad for women.

D: Yeah--and as Ellen [Moody] has been saying about Charlotte Smith--they buried her novels because she said too much that was too uncomfortable to hear and the Austens weren't going to let Austen do that. The kind of hierarchy that both Regency England and Nazi Germany upheld kept women constrained, as it did gays or anyone likely to step out of line.

A: Nosiree Jane.

D:  And so both these figures are severely censored--I think much of the interest lies in that and pulling that out as a reality for Austen.

A: As we've been posting, Austen made sure to weave Smith's overt stories into her own shadow stories.

D: Yes. I find that very interesting--just the fact that she alluded to Smith at all speaks volumes.

A: My next question is re Bonhoeffer's irony -how did he go about being ironical? You and I both know how Jane Austen did it, but I am curious to hear how he did it in his writings

D: Well that's a complicated question--he uses terms ironically, like a "world come of age." He talks about a mis-fuhrer or misleader of the people--he can be sardonic about Hitler as the emperor with no clothes ... I don't know how much you want to go here, as his theology gets complicated.

A: Whatever you found most interesting--what made you smile the way we smile at Austen's irony?

D: Well he is not ironic in the same way. Think of the reams of words it would take to even explain the irony in the speech by Henry Tilney in Northanger Abbey about every Englishman being a spy. When everyone was arguing that you had to join the Nazis to combat them, Dietrich said that if the train is heading for a crash and you had climbed on it and are running in the opposite direction of the crash through the cars, you are still going to crash. I think he realized the Nazis were pea brains and bullies. But it gets to a point when its not funny that these morons are in charge

A: No, just as I can no longer laugh at Trump. It reminds me of Elizabeth Bennet’s great putdown of Darcy: “My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever."
"That is a failing indeed!" cried Elizabeth. "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."

D: I am sure it was hard for Austen too to deal with the tin-plated bullies like her Aunt Leigh-Perrot.

A: For sure---and part of the way she coped was to skewer those bullies in the shadow stories of her novels. And speaking of Trump, that prompts another segue --- What can we in America today learn from Bonhoeffer's writings that can better equip us to combat this current dangerous flirtation with fascism that seems to have infatuated way too many Americans?

D: Absolutely don't fall for it. Stay in community. Resist it. Recognize that Trump is a fraud. When solutions to problems --this is what Bonhoeffer would say and you can agree or not--go out of what the Old Testament and New Testament would say are legitimate responses to problems--not where people in the Bible went crazy and did things wrong--but when the core Torah/Jesus beliefs are being turned on their heads, head for the hills, say no—instead, base your life in a sane reading of those texts. What happened when people tried to build the tower of Babel--is that like building a wall to keep out Mexicans? He would keep bringing it back to that--maybe that is old fashioned to our ears, but maybe it's good advice.
He would say, treat people decently—that means don’t kill people, don’t deport people, you don't nuke people, you don't do this sort of thing to them. It's pretty basic.

A: Funny that we are not hearing any prominent American theologians speaking out about Trump, especially today of all days, when Trump has perhaps gone too far even for him.

D: We need to hear more.

A: Many of them are compromised -- they are so hung up on abortion, that they won't openly criticize a Trump who promises to give them SC justices to do their bidding.

D: History repeats itself. And in Germany--Jews thought they could keep quiet and ride it out and Christians got diverted by promises to restore some mythic pre-Weimar moral golden age.

A: I was just thinking about Austen vis a vis what you said above--- I realized, in her era, there was no real “Resistance” she could be part of --- And that’s one big difference --- in her time, it wasn't horrific Nazis who were perpetrating horrific evil that was obvious to everyone sane. It was everybody - even the Edmund Bertrams, country clergymen who believed they were on a higher moral plane than big city folks, were part of the oppression.

D: Yes. People believed in it, thought it was how society had to be. And Hitler wanted to restore that. He loved patriarchy.

A: Is there any other topic I did not bring up, that you'd like us to talk about before we conclude?

D: I would like to emphasize how relevant both figures are to the world of today--we are facing the same issues. Basically, Austen and Bonhoeffer are fighting similar ideological battles. We don’t like to compare Regency England to Hitler’s Germany, but the ideological similarities—extreme belief in patriarchy, hierarchy, militarism, violent punishment, colonialism, the inferiority of certain “races,” fear of the other –are uncomfortably similar.


A: Amen. Thank again, Diane, for answering my questions, and congratulations on a book of great interest to Janeites and all other thinking people as well!  

A deeper dive into the delicate “Prince of Whales” subtext of Emma

In followup to my post a few days ago about the hidden “Prince of Whales” answer to the Emma charade (and thank you Diane and Elaine for your substantive, positive replies), I have a question for you all (but especially for Anielka, in light of your recent posts about the royal family allusions in Emma):

What do all of the following passages in Emma have to do with one particular, and very important element of the covert satire of the Prince Regent in Emma?

HINT: In some of these following passages, it is specific verbiage that connects to that element, in others it is the lines under the words, as Lydia Bennet would have put it.

As usual, I’ll post my answer in two days, to give, to anyone who wishes, a chance to respond:

Ch. 1: Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.

Ch. 7:
"Yes, indeed, a very good letter," replied Emma rather slowly—"so good a letter, Harriet, that every thing considered, I think one of his sisters must have helped him. I can hardly imagine the young man whom I saw talking with you the other day could express himself so well, if left quite to his own powers, and yet it is not the style of a woman; no, certainly, it is too strong and concise; not diffuse enough for a woman. No doubt he is a sensible man, and I suppose may have a natural talent for—thinks strongly and clearly—and when he takes a pen in hand, his thoughts naturally find proper words. It is so with some men. Yes, I understand the sort of mind. Vigorous, decided, with sentiments to a certain point, not coarse. A better written letter, Harriet (returning it,) than I had expected."
"Well," said the still waiting Harriet;—"well—and—and what shall I do?"
"What shall you do! In what respect? Do you mean with regard to this letter?"
"Yes."
"But what are you in doubt of? You must answer it of course—and speedily."
"Yes. But what shall I say? Dear Miss Woodhouse, do advise me."
"Oh no, no! the letter had much better be all your own. You will express yourself very properly, I am sure. There is no danger of your not being intelligible, which is the first thing. Your meaning must be unequivocal; no doubts or demurs: and such expressions of gratitude and concern for the pain you are inflicting as propriety requires, will present themselves unbidden to your mind, I am persuaded. You need not be prompted to write with the appearance of sorrow for his disappointment."

Ch. 8:
"Pray, Mr. Knightley," said Emma, who had been smiling to herself through a great part of this speech, "how do you know that Mr. Martin did not speak yesterday?"
"Certainly," replied he, surprized, "I do not absolutely know it; but it may be inferred. Was not she the whole day with you?"
"Come," said she, "I will tell you something, in return for what you have told me. He did speak yesterday—that is, he wrote, and was refused."
This was obliged to be repeated before it could be believed; and Mr. Knightley actually looked red with surprize and displeasure, as he stood up, in tall indignation, and said,
"Then she is a greater simpleton than I ever believed her. What is the foolish girl about?"
"Oh! to be sure," cried Emma, "it is always incomprehensible to a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A man always imagines a woman to be ready for any body who asks her."
"Nonsense! a man does not imagine any such thing. But what is the meaning of this? Harriet Smith refuse Robert Martin? madness, if it is so; but I hope you are mistaken."
"I saw her answer!—nothing could be clearer."
"You saw her answer!—you wrote her answer too. Emma, this is your doing. You persuaded her to refuse him."
"And if I did, (which, however, I am far from allowing) I should not feel that I had done wrong. Mr. Martin is a very respectable young man, but I cannot admit him to be Harriet's equal; and am rather surprized indeed that he should have ventured to address her. By your account, he does seem to have had some scruples. It is a pity that they were ever got over."

"Not Harriet's equal!" exclaimed Mr. Knightley loudly and warmly...

Chs. 20-21:
The like reserve prevailed on other topics. She and Mr. Frank Churchill had been at Weymouth at the same time. It was known that they were a little acquainted; but not a syllable of real information could Emma procure as to what he truly was. "Was he handsome?"—"She believed he was reckoned a very fine young man." "Was he agreeable?"—"He was generally thought so." "Did he appear a sensible young man; a young man of information?"—"At a watering-place, or in a common London acquaintance, it was difficult to decide on such points. Manners were all that could be safely judged of, under a much longer knowledge than they had yet had of Mr. Churchill. She believed every body found his manners pleasing." Emma could not forgive her.
Emma could not forgive her; --but as neither provocation nor resentment were discerned by Mr. Knightley, who had been of the party, and had seen only proper attention and pleasing behaviour on each side, he was expressing the next morning, being at Hartfield again on business with Mr. Woodhouse, his approbation of the whole; not so openly as he might have done had her father been out of the room, but speaking plain enough to be very intelligible to Emma. He had been used to think her unjust to Jane, and had now great pleasure in marking an improvement.

Ch. 39:  
In the few minutes' conversation which she had yet had with him, while Harriet had been partially insensible, he had spoken of her terror, her naivete, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a sensibility amused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet's own account had been given, he had expressed his indignation at the abominable folly of Miss Bickerton in the warmest terms.

Ch. 48:
"Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself. 'The consequence,' said she, 'has been a state of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless….”

Ch. 49:
"Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.—Your own excellent sense—your exertions for your father's sake—I know you will not allow yourself—." Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship—indignation—abominable  scoundrel!"—And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for her. She deserves a better fate."

Ch. 50:
“…I must still add to this long letter. You have not heard all that you ought to hear. I could not give any connected detail yesterday; but the suddenness, and, in one light, the unseasonableness with which the affair burst out, needs explanation; for though the event of the 26th ult., as you will conclude, immediately opened to me the happiest prospects, I should not have presumed on such early measures, but from the very particular circumstances, which left me not an hour to lose. I should myself have shrunk from any thing so hasty, and she would have felt every scruple of mine with multiplied strength and refinement.—But I had no choice. The hasty engagement she had entered into with that woman—Here, my dear madam, I was obliged to leave off abruptly, to recollect and compose myself.—I have been walking over the country, and am now, I hope, rational enough to make the rest of my letter what it ought to be…..”

Ch. 55: 
…Frank Churchill caught the name. "Perry!" said he to Emma, and trying, as he spoke, to catch Miss Fairfax's eye. "My friend Mr. Perry! What are they saying about Mr. Perry?—Has he been here this morning?—And how does he travel now?—Has he set up his carriage?"
Emma soon recollected, and understood him; and while she joined in the laugh, it was evident from Jane's countenance that she too was really hearing him, though trying to seem deaf.
"Such an extraordinary dream of mine!" he cried. "I can never think of it without laughing.—She hears us, she hears us, Miss Woodhouse. I see it in her cheek, her smile, her vain attempt to frown. Look at her. Do not you see that, at this instant, the very passage of her own letter, which sent me the report, is passing under her eye—that the whole blunder is spread before her—that she can attend to nothing else, though pretending to listen to the others?"
Jane was forced to smile completely, for a moment; and the smile partly remained as she turned towards him, and said in a conscious, low, yet steady voice, "How you can bear such recollections, is astonishing to me!—They will sometimes obtrude—but how you can court them!"
He had a great deal to say in return, and very entertainingly…

Cheers, ARNIE

@JaneAustenCode on Twitter