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Thanks! -- Arnie Perlstein, Portland, OR

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Downton/Donwell/WhoDoneIt Abbey: Did Bates REALLY Kill Green the Evil VaRlet? The Ghosts of Shakespeare AND Jane Austen both say “No!”

[Revised at 10 AM EST 2/19/14 to add an alternative, plausible solution to the mystery.
Also see my followup post at 5:45 pm 2/19/14 in which I amend my opinion about Lady Mary]


I just learned last night that Julian Fellowes, of course the mastermind behind Downtonmania, was the screenwriter for Gosford Park, Robert Altman’s award-winning 2001 venture into the English country-house murder genre. I also just learned that Fellowes originally conceived of Downton Abbey as a continuation of Gosford Park, a factoid which transcends Maggie Smith’s formidable presence in both productions.

The reason I came upon this info---and why you should care, if you’re a fellow Donwtonmaniac--is because of a chat I had with a fellow Downtonmaniac yesterday, whom I hereby thank profusely for getting me started down the long and winding road of literary sleuthing that led to this post.

She didn’t know she was doing this, of course, she was merely expressing her dissatisfaction with the idea that Bates would actually go to London to murder Green, the evil varlet & rapist, given the risk that something could go wrong with such a risky plan. How could Bates, our favorite early 20th century Job, do such a thing?  After all, if all did not go perfectly, and he was discovered, it could ruin all future hopes for happiness for him and wife Anna, who was of course the victim of Green’s brutal, sadistic attack. Hadn’t she (and he, for that matter) suffered enough? 

At first I took the other side, suggesting Bates faced a moral Catch-22, since inaction on his part would be equally horrible—it would likely have the effect of Bates standing helpless, watching & allowing Anna to continue to suffer each and every time Green’s master, Tony Gillingham, happened to visit Downton, which seemed to be practically every episode this season, as Tony continued his relentless, aggressive courtship of Lady Mary.

But my persistent opponent in this friendly debate then landed a telling point—how could Bates know for sure that it really was Green who raped Anna, given that no one who knew the truth (Anna, Mrs . Hughes and Lady Mary) had actually told him so. Even though Bates felt he knew for sure, who did he think he was, Patrick Jane, the Mentalist?  After all, as Jane Austen taught us, “Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken.”

For example, Anna’s extreme distress in Green’s presence could quite plausibly have originated from a nasty, but non-criminal beginning: first we have Green, the egotistical, sexually provocative jerk, flirting with Anna, a married woman, right in front of her husband, practically daring Bates to react; then we have Anna, surprisingly oblivious of the jealousy she is raising in Bates—but, like Desdemona, she is so confident of the solidity of her love with Bates, she believes he cannot be jealous, so she responds to Green’s flirtations with indiscreetly positive vibes; and then, finally, after the rape, Anna realizes the tragic role she has so inadvertently played, and feels intensely guilty about all of this. Then, when she is attacked by an intruding stranger, she really suffers, because she knows Bates will never believe her that it is not Green, so now she must constantly worry that Bates will take revenge on the wrong man. From Bates’s point of view, if he can somehow be objective, that would be a pretty plausible, even compelling alternative explanation for his wife’s particular reactivity vis a vis Green. How, indeed, can he be sure?

That’s when the light bulb went on in my mind for the first time, and I had a Mr. Knightley moment about Julian Fellowes’s authorial machinations. I.e., I began to suspect him of some major-league double dealing in leading millions of viewers down the garden path of uncritically assuming that Bates had to be  guilty of murdering Green, a crime he would have committed only after first assuming Green’s being guilty in the first place!

Wheels within wheels! That’s when I learned of Fellowes’s screenwriting pedigree; and when the recollection of the murder mystery of Gosford Park went through my mind with the speed of an arrow, the Shakespearean subtext that Fellowes had been hiding in plain sight in Downton Abbey came into clear focus before my eyes, and this post was born! It’s not short, but if any post I’ve ever written has a payoff worth a few extra words, this is it!

WHO (REALLY) DONE IT?    

Who (other than Bates) would also have had opportunity, motive, and M.O., sufficient to induce a reasonable, level-headed viewer to suspect him or her of having created some fresh Soylent Green under a London double-decker bus?  I’ll give my answer before the end of this post, but I think it’ll be more fun for you if you don’t skip to the end, but instead follow me down my very good faith garden path, so perhaps the answer will occur to you before I give it!

Opportunity: Who besides Bates was in London at the time of the murder and could have gone off alone to find, and then kill, Green, before returning to the company of others?  
Well, in addition to Bates, that includes (believe it or not) five other cast regulars! Lady Mary, Anna, and Tony Gillingham are the three who should immediately come to your mind.
But there are two others, whom you probably did not think of at all, even though, when you do reflect on it, they both could easily have passed through London that fateful day----I’m referring to Lord Grantham and his temporary valet for the Earl’s American excursion, Thomas Barrow.
So now we have a pool of potential suspects, let’s see how they fit the rest of my criteria.

Motive: Who besides Bates had a motive to kill Green?
Anna, for two powerful, mutually inciting motives: wanting to get rid of Green before Bates could do it and get himself hung; and wanting revenge for herself. And who knows how long Anna was gone while Mary sat with Tony asking him to sack Green?
But also, Lady Mary, whom we witnessed being deeply shocked by Anna’s revelation of Green’s guilt not long before.  She could feel enormous guilt over having been the reason why Green was in Downton in the first place, and, even worse, had returned repeatedly. Mary is still recovering from the devastation of Matthew’s tragic death, and is in a very volatile state of being very persistently courted by two attractive suitors. She says to Edith,  in another context, something like  “We must face life’s challenges” –maybe she experiences Anna’s shocking news as such a challenge, requiring bold action from Mary, who more than anything seeks to return to the helm of her own life, which ran aground on dangerous rocks after Matthew died.
In contrast to Anna and Mary, Lord Grantham would appear to be utterly unconnected to Green, and so would Thomas—does anyone recall any interaction between him and Green during Green’s previous sojourns at Downton? I don’t. 
And finally, Tony. When Mary asks him to sack Green, he does respond to Mary saying he did not care for Green, a curious thing to say—why wouldn’t he have fired him long ago, in such a case? And Tony certainly would have been the one among this group of five in London who would have had every reason in the world to be right next to his own valet! But is a vague dislike a motive for murder? Certainly not, unless that expression of vague dislike was a cover for some much deeper enmity which Fellowes has  concealed from the sight of the viewer until a big reveal in Season 5.

M.O.: Again, it is Bates’s M.O., of which the viewer is incessantly reminded, as a man who, like  Raskolnikov, believes himself to have the right to exact personal justice after holding his own private trial of Green’s guilt. Plus Bates has the skill set—the wits, the resourcefulness, the boldness-- to execute any plan of that kind that he might conceive. Plus, he can get very very angry.
Whereas Lady Mary, Anna, Gillingham, and Lord Grantham all pale in comparison as suspects on this point-none of them has any particular penchant we know of for behavior outside the pale of the law in a civilized society that does not condone taking an eye for an eye.
And Barrow? Well, he is certainly amoral in a number of ways, but his M.O. is not murder, it’s blackmail, it’s fraud. His attacks are virtual, not physical.

At this stage of my analysis, I checked in the Message Boards for Downton Abbey at IMDB and found a thread started right after this last episode, on this very same question of who might have killed Green besides Bates, and, sure enough, among the possibilities brought forward were Tony Gillingham and Anna. Nobody made any suggestion about the other three suspects on my list.

I will now inject a very limited SPOILER for those reading this post from the American side of the Pond, who have not yet seen the so-called Christmas Special which actually was the true finale of the English Season Four. So if you are extremely scrupulous about not wanting to know anything about what happens, or doesn’t happen, in that Special Christmas episode (which I haven’t seen, but which I read about yesterday, because I just had to know what happens in it before I see it on Sunday), you may wish to stop reading this post now, and wait till after this Sunday’s U.S. airing to read the rest. 

But for the rest of you….

SCROLL DOWN


SCROLL  DOWN


SCROLL DOWN…

…for the “punch line” (or more aptly, the punch page) of this post, in which I will reveal what I realized immediately after I had my Mr. Knightley moment. That’s when I knew that Julian Fellowes had, in the above described episode, coming after nearly four seasons of episodes, sprung a delicious mousetrap on his viewers, which he may well have planned going back to Season One, and which, it is clear from the absence of clear revelation in the Christmas Special, he will not explicitly reveal until Season Five!

And how subtle the mechanism of Fellowe’s’ mousetrap, that very few viewers have even noticed they’re caught in it yet! I will in the remainder of this post, reveal how Fellowes has done a splendid job of emulating Agatha Christie and all the other great murder mystery writers, indeed has emulated his own screenplay for Gosford Park, and has in a metaphorical sense revived the country house murder motif  which is central in the 2001 film. And, as my Subject Line teased you, there’s Shakespearean tragedy at the heart of Fellowes’s practice upon the trusting minds of his millions of viewers, which I will invoke repeatedly in the remainder of this post!

Further cuteness and suspense would be entirely inappropriate at this point, so I will now reveal to you that my #1 suspect for the murder of Green the Evil Varlet, is none other than……Thomas Barrow, the Iago of Downton Abbey!!!! And actually, as I will demonstrate, Fellowes—who perhaps you will think of as the Iago of Downton Abbey the series (as opposed to the fictional estate) has quite clearly had Shakespeare’s great marital tragedy, Othello, in mind as he masterfully constructed this dramatic sleight of hand!

Here’s the tipping point, that sends the viewer down the path which I think Fellowes is going to take us down during the first few episodes of Season Five. Everyone is thinking that the murderer must have been someone who wanted Green dead solely because of what Green may or may not have done to the murderer, or to someone the murderer cares about.

But now think outside the box---what if (and a mystery buff could probably name a hundred novels, stories, and tv episodes which use some variation on this theme I’m about to set forth) Green was merely (and ironically) an innocent victim of a plot as to which he was NOT the murderer’s principal target?  In other, less cryptic words, what if Green’s being known to Anna, Mrs. Hughes and Mary, and suspected  by Bates, of having raped Anna, was of no particular concern to the person who actually murdered Green, other than as an opportunity for his murderer to “murder” (the reputation) of his true target, a man who hates Green-i.e., Bates?

Just recall how Iago, wishing to destroy Othello, does not physically attack Othello, but instead drives Othello insane with jealousy of Cassio, so that Othello will destroy himself and Desdemona, and almost destroy Cassio as well? And further to that goal, Iago falsely frames Cassio as an adulterer with Desdemona? You must see where I am going, as Barrow has, in effect, cast Bates as Othello, Anna as Desdemona, and Green as Cassio—and since I had to miss two of the prior episodes of Downton Abbey while traveling, I would not be surprised to learn that prior to the rape, Barrow had been bantering  with Green, suggesting to him (with a broad, leering wink or two) that Bates, the old man with a limp, was not able to satisfy his young, sexy wife, and maybe she’d be more than receptive to Green’s advances?  

Let’s revisit the three key points that would make Barrow a character a prime suspect:

Opportunity: Barrow came back from America that same day of the murder with the Earl, and surely passed through London on the way back to Yorkshire from Southampton (where the ship from the US would have landed, that’s where Titanic sailed from) which of course is south of London. He could easily have obtained, from the Earl, permission, after a long trip abroad, for an hour or two to see an old friend or the like, before heading back to Downton. And the first thing Barrow would have done once he was alone would be to telephone Baxter, and ask her for news about Anna and Bates.

And doesn’t my theory put Barrow’s obsessive interest in Bates and Anna’s relationship, and in particular the circumstances that led Anna into such obvious distress, in an amazingly clear light? He’s looking for intelligence that he can exploit. He may even have identified Green as a sociopath during an earlier encounter at Downton (it takes one to know one, after all). And so, imagine Barrow’s excitement if Baxter, fulfilling her duty as spy, without understanding to what use her info might be put (think about how much she would then be like Emilia, Iago’s wife, when she unwittingly seals her mistress’s fate by her role in the fantasy of the handkerchief which is the final straw in convincing Othello --mistakenly, of course-- of Desdemona’s adultery with Cassio) , revealed to Barrow the rumor that Bates believed Anna had been attacked by Green, who was at that very instant back in London?

Barrow would have perceived this news as a providential gift from God, an opportunity to do to Bates what Bates’s first wife had done to Bates only a few years earlier, i.e., to frame Bates for a murder!

Motive: Who wants revenge against Bates more than anyone on the planet?  Barrow, of course! He hates Bates, and has never stopped hating Bates, because of what happened in Season One. For those who don’t know or recall, here’s Wikipedia’s synopsis, in relevant part:

“Thomas remains extremely annoyed that he had been passed up for the position of Lord Grantham's valet by "Long John Silver", which is what he calls John Bates when talking with Miss O'Brien about the new valet. He is always at odds with John. Bates catches him stealing wine and threatens to tell Mr Carson, unless Thomas stops insulting William. Thomas and O'Brien attempt to get him fired for theft by planting one of Robert's snuff boxes in his room, but Anna warns him, and he replaces it without informing on them. They later try accusing him of being the one who has been stealing wine. He and Ms O'Brien get Daisy to lie to Mr Carson. But Daisy feels guilty and admits that she lied, and then later when Molesley sees Thomas "replacing" Carson's wallet, that he found, back into his jacket, Carson tells Lord Grantham, and they agree to fire Thomas.”

Nothing need be added to demonstrate Barrow’s compelling mens rea. Fate would seem to have given Barrow the means of destroying Bates the way the Greek tragedians destroyed their tragic protagonists. To Job, add Oedipus, then, as a second ghost haunting the tragic soul of Mr. Bates. Unless Barrow’s scheme can be foiled—and of course, I believe that is exactly what will happen, or Downtonmaniacs will riot in the streets till Fellowes gives us the resolution we all demand!  ;)

And think of even more learned subtext that Fellowes’s has slid in here. Much scholarly analysis of Iago’s motivations has focused on an unmistakable homosexual component in his character. Does Iago secretly love Othello  and is his “murder” of both Othello and Desdemona, by turning them all into his puppets, the result of Iago’s jealous rage?  And of course Iago’s other more obvious motive for destroying  everyone other  major character in the play is his rage over being denied advancement, being cheated out of the elevated position he believes he has fairly earned. Well, hello! Isn’t that exactly how Barrow feels  about Bates having been given the plum position of valet to Lord Grantham, instead of Barrow? And wouldn’t Barrow’s acute sense of aggrievement be at its peak at the very instant when he returns to England with his master, knowing  that before the sun sets, they will be back at Downton, Bates will be back at his role as valet to Robert, and Barrow will, like Cinderella, have turned back into a lowly footman , downstairs, being treated (as he sees it)  like dirt. 

That would  be exactly the desperate moment when Barrow would be tempted to cross the line into physical violence---but (being the Iago that he is), he’d murder Green the way Iago murdered his first gull, Roderigo, as mere collateral damage, in order to get to his real victim, Bates, whom he’d  “kill”, bloodlessly, by remote control.

M.O.: Earlier in Season Four, Barrow and Edna (the sneaky maid, remember her?) tried to frame Anna for something bad that happened at Downton, but failed. Barrow is the quintessential sleazy weasel, we know that. As I said before, his M.O. is blackmail and fraud.  Well, perhaps when this brief window of opportunity opened for him when he returned to England from America, he decided to seize the day, and so (as one IMDB poster wittily put it) threw Green under the bus, for the purpose of destroying Bates once and for all! He would be like the insane Bruno in Hitchcock’s Strangers on a Train, committing a murder on behalf of someone else! But of course, Barrow’s motive would have been revenge on Bates, whereas Bruno turned blackmailer of the hero Guy for a murder he didn’t commit, only after Guy refused to return the favor to Bruno by murdering Bruno’s mother!

A CRUX….OR A BRILLIANT STROKE?

Now, if you’re really paying attention, and in full Columbo /Miss Marple/Mentalist mode at my side, you have probably noticed the weakest link in my otherwise very strong chain of inference, which is the coincidence of Barrow arriving in London at precisely the moment when he would learn about Green’s rape of Anna, but, even more so, the coincidence of Bates leaving Downton for that entire day, thereby losing an otherwise ironclad alibi.

How could Fellowes have been so clever in constructing this masterfully veiled reenactment of Othello, with plausible motivations at every step of the way, but then has to rely on Bates’s coincidentally taking  a trip alone away from Downton Abbey, thereby making himself vulnerable to being framed by Thomas?

It was in asking myself that question that the answer occurred to me, and it is really the piece de resistance of Fellowe’s’ authorial craftsmanship, truly inspired. What we have here is the final potentially tragic irony-i.e. what if Bates’s secret mission to London was not prompted by anything anyone said to him, but was out of his concern that Anna, while in London accompanying Lady Mary, might take some desperate action against Green (after all, she was also at the table in the Downton downstairs, when Green revealed the Gillingham residence address)?   

Bates would have gone to London precisely because he knew that Anna was afraid he’d get himself hung or imprisoned for life for murdering Green, so Anna actodually had a third motive for murdering Green, beyond the previously stated ones of revenge and guilt-this third motive would be to risk her own hanging or imprisonment, in order to prevent Bates from getting to Green first! And Baxter, when Barrow called her, would of course have informed Barrow that Bates had gone off on a day trip, giving Barrow the idea to act right then and there!

BUT....

Today, seven hours after posting my first version of this post at 3 AM, I awoke and realized that I needed to amend this post, to add more possibilities, because Fellowes’s densely interwoven web of mystery, his serpentine garden path of storytelling, actually has another, equally plausible outcome , besides Barrow as Iago-like murderer, which I have now only seen as I revisited my imagining of Bates’s imaginings about Anna in London.

Let’s start, then, with two (mercifully) final questions.

First, if Bates feared Anna would murder  Green while in London, would Bates have imagined that Anna asked for Lady Mary’s help in this scheme? I.e., would he think Anna, on the train to London, thought it all through, and explained everything to Lady Mary, and proposed that together, they could pull off the “accidental” death of Green, with Mary keeping Tony occupied long enough for Anna to do the deed? 

So now, you see, just before the finish line, in justifying my interpretation of Barrow as Iago having pushed Green under the bus, I have established the equal plausibility of Anna, assisted by Mary, having done audaciously done Green in!

Because I’d really like to think that Anna really did murder Green, and that Mary really did help Anna in this! It would be such good karma for both of them, women who both had spent a very long time after an emotionally devastating, life-altering event, feeling utterly powerless. They both knew by this climactic point in the story that there was only one option open to them for removing an evil sociopath from the world, a man they knew was guilty, and that was to just get rid of him once and for all, by taking proactive steps….toward a man, Green, standing at a bus stop in Piccadilly, that is!

But then, a final question---if I am correct as to either Barrow OR Anna/Mary having murdered Green,  then, if Bates really did come to London, and I think he did, then….did Bates observe the murder? Or, if he did not, did he only learn of the murder when he returned to Downton at the end of the day?  In either case, if he thought Anna had done it, that would explain his oddly inscrutable smile back at Downton, talking to Anna  about their respective long days, because he’d  be the only one (other than the murderer) who’d know the identity of the murderer!

So… in Season Five, will Thomas attempt to blackmail Bates, because he can prove Bates was not in York as Bates told everybody? Or, will Bates expose Thomas as the murderer?
Or…..final turn of the mentalizing screw……will Fellowes cross everyone up, including yours truly, and reveal that Green is not really dead at all, but it was a case of mistaken identity?  I.e., just a monstrously clever Red Herring constructed by Fellowes?

All I know is that now I really can’t wait for Season Five to find out! And that’s where I’ll leave you, my indulgent readers, hanging until….Season 5 reveals what Fellowes had in mind---or maybe, he hasn’t decided yet!  And I, for one, will not be guilty of any assumptions about which option he will ultimately choose!

Cheers, ARNIE
@JaneAusten on Twitter
                                        
P.S.: For those who might’ve wondered why my Subject Line includes “Donwell” as in Donwell Abbey, the country estate of Mr. Knightley in Jane Austen’s Emma, well, that’s my final “Gotcha!” in this post, because there is a startling resonance between my claim that Barrow could have attempted to frame Bates for the murder of Green, on the one hand, and my claim one week ago….


….in which I suggested that Mr. Knightley may well have murdered Mrs. Churchill,  for the purpose of framing, and then blackmailing, Frank Churchill into actually entering  into an engagement with Jane Fairfax, under the terms of which he will give her the Churchill family jewels, but ultimately Jane will not have to marry Frank! Think about Emma sketching a portrait of Harriet and then giving it to Mr. Elton to go get it framed—was Jane Austen, mistress of wordplay, suggesting by the means I described in the above linked post, that Knightley similarly and sinisterly, had  framed a “portrait’ of Frank as murderer of his aunt, thereby making Frank too “tall” (i.e., macho)? 

I do believe that Fellowes was inspired as much by Emma as by Othello in his grand design of the Mysterious  Death of Green the Evil (and Vile) Varlet.  

Monday, February 17, 2014

The Capital Gratification of Jane Austen’s Observance of The Rules of Composition in Northanger Abbey: “Captain Tilney” & Eleanor Tilney’s Secret Lover are the one and the same person!



Two days ago, I wrote:

"I just found another imaginary character in an Austen novel other than Emma or Persuasion! And, as I reiterated for the umpteenth time in a post earlier today, that means, I found a significant character who may, OR MAY NOT, be imaginary, depending on which perspective you take on the passages about this character in the novel. Either reading is perfectly plausible.
Here are some giant hints.
He is a man,
He never speaks in the novel,
He is never described by any narration other than narration which can readily be read as the heroine's subjective perception, rather than clearly objective report of a fact,
He may or may not have ever actually been alive.
I found him out via Google--and you could do it too, very easily, if you were willing to go on the hypothesis that I am correct about Mr. Perry being an imaginary character during the action of Emma, and try to figure out how to use Google to find out if anyone else saw something strange about this character, just the way Wiltshire and Stafford saw something strange about Mr. Perry, but did not think far enough outside the box to realize what it meant.
This imaginary character is even more spectacular than Mr. Perry, actually, because the role this imaginary character plays in his novel is very similar to the role that "George Kaplan" plays in Hitchcock's North by Northwest.
And even I, an hour ago, never realized, it was only with the inadvertent help of another Austen scholar rendered a very long time ago, that I instantly understood Jane Austen's trick.  Just amazing!"

As my Subject  Line  has already revealed, I am talking  about Captain Frederick Tilney from Northanger Abbey!

I figured  I’d just start  by getting the bombshell out right there in my Subject Line, I saw no need to build  suspense this time around. Now for a synopsis of how I arrived at this admittedly way outside  the box conclusion.

The other night, I Googled the phrase “Mr. Perry” together with the word “never”, being thorough and wanting to make sure I had not overlooked any online discussion regarding Mr. Perry’s never having spoken, and never having been objectively described by the  narrator of Emma. What I was led to, however, instead of a discussion of these qualities in Mr. Perry, was the following extraordinarily interesting discussion of  another Austen novel, Northanger Abbey!

Persuasions #7, ppg 42-54 (1985) “How might Jane Austen have revised Northanger Abbey?”
by the late Joan Aiken
…What…could [JA] have done [to revise] Northanger [Abbey]?  For a start, she needed a few more characters; as well as to take greater advantage of those already there.  One example of such a character is Henry’s brother, Captain Tilney.  He is used simply as a prop, to beguile flighty Isabella Thorpe away from Catherine’s brother James.  Most improbably, although a “fashionable, handsome young man” Frederick Tilney is never introduced to Catherine (which seems decidedly odd and uncivil of Henry); indeed he never speaks to Catherine at all, and it seems both uneconomic and unskilful of the writer to bring him into play as little as she does.
About another character she is equally remiss, but at least acknowledges the fact herself, charmingly, on the last page, where she admits (“aware that the rules of composition forbid the introduction of a character not connected with my fable”) that “the most charming young man in the world” the titled gentleman whose marriage to Eleanor Tilney solves the plot by putting the General back into good humour, had been the one who had left in the closet a bundle of washing bills which Catherine had taken for somebody’s dying confession.
It would have been the easiest thing in the world to introduce this charming young peer at an early stage of the story.  Of course he would have followed Eleanor to Bath; of course Isabella Thorpe would have set her cap at him…”  END QUOTE FROM AIKEN ARTICLE

Many of you will recognize  her name, since Aiken, who was from a literary family including her father, poet  Conrad Aiken and her sister, Jane Aiken Hodge) was the author of Jane Fairfax (Emma retold from Jane’s point of  view, but without any of the shadow story elements I have discovered since 2005) and other Austen-inspired fiction).

Anyway, the second I got to the end of the above quoted excerpt  from Aiken’s article, I was already searching in Northanger Abbey  to test the hypothesis that immediately formed in my mind, i.e., that Captain Tilney might have been the Mr. Perry of Northanger Abbey, and even better, he was not a completely imaginary person, but  was actually another character impersonating him!

And the first passage I sought out was the penultimate paragraph of the entire novel, where we read:

“The marriage of Eleanor Tilney, her removal from all the evils of such a home as Northanger had been made by Henry's banishment, to the home of her choice and the man of her choice, is an event which I expect to give general satisfaction among all her acquaintance. My own joy on the occasion is very sincere. I know no one more entitled, by unpretending merit, or better prepared by habitual suffering, to receive and enjoy felicity. Her partiality for this gentleman was not of recent origin; and he had been long withheld only by inferiority of situation from addressing her. His unexpected accession to title and fortune had removed all his difficulties; and never had the General loved his daughter so well in all her hours of companionship, utility, and patient endurance as when he first hailed her "Your Ladyship!" Her husband was really deserving of her; independent of his peerage, his wealth, and his attachment, being to a precision the most charming young man in the world. Any further definition of his merits must be unnecessary; the most charming young man in the world is instantly before the imagination of us all. Concerning the one in question, therefore, I have only to add—aware that the rules of composition forbid the introduction of a character not connected with my fable—that this was the very gentleman whose negligent servant left behind him that collection of washing-bills, resulting from a long visit at Northanger, by which my heroine was involved in one of her most alarming adventures. “

Turns out that, in my reading inspired by Aiken’s intuitive brilliance, Jane Austen in her reference to the Rules of Composition was actually observing them doubly, not only with those laundry lists, but much more, and so much more dramatically, in the introduction of Eleanor’s lover (disguised as Captain Tilney)  in Chapter 14 while everyone was still in Bath, and not  much later, in the Abbey, as every reader has understood up  till now.

Several hours of textual searching and analysis  later, here are my broad conclusions in support  of my above captioned claim:

Joan Aiken was a centimeter away from realizing that Jane Austen did not need to revise  Northanger Abbey along  the lines that Aiken suggested, because that plotline was already put in the novel by JA herself! I.e., this is perhaps the mother of all Trojan Horse Moments, because Aiken basically did all the work 25 years ago, and then walked away without applying the final coat of paint, scholarly-wise. Aiken simply did not realize that Jane Austen had planted these ideas  in Aiken’s sensitive writer’s mind without being noticed  doing so.

But because Aiken thought she was just giving playful free advice to a dead author, she did not have a reason to go through the novel text methodically, as I have now done, to see how this basic hidden structure plays out.

When I did, I realized straightaway that there was ONE potential deal-breaking problem for my theory, in that General Tilney appears to speak to “Captain Tilney” before the departure from Bath to the Abbey. How could that be?

And then of course I realized, this is Emma all over again, in a different setting. General Tilney, while different from Mr. Woodhouse in many ways, is also strikingly similar to him in others. You can readily figure out both, I am sure.

The key point is that I say that General Tilney is as crazy in his own way, as Mr. Woodhouse is in his. Where Mr. Woodhouse is a hypochondriac, paranoid  about his own health, General Tilney is a chauvinist, paranoid about the “health” of the nation. And so Mr. Woodhouse invents  an apothecary to echo back to himself his health paranoia, and General Tilney, offstage, does the same with his “son” Captain Tilney.

That’s how Eleanor’s boyfriend could impersonate “Captain Tilney”, who, I believe, did die before the novel begins while in service in some situation (even if not exactly as Henry Tilney described in his lurid story telling about a riot in London). The  General, like the grieving father in Kyd’s Spanish Tragedy, is driven made by the death of his son, cannot believe he has died, and therefore is  ripe for opportunistic  manipulation (in a good cause, because the General really is a bad man) by Henry (later joined  by Eleanor), so that eventually Eleanor can marry her lover, but with the earlier necessary covert operation in which (as Aiken eerily suggested) Isabella Thorpe  is tricked into giving James Morland up.

And I conclude, for now, by pointing out  that General Tilney also has his medical issues, not just Mr. Woodhouse. And while Akiko Takei wrote  an interesting article a while ago arguing that the General is ((like Admiral Croft) gouty, I believe that JA is hereby revisiting the “sex with virgins” theme  from Garrick’s Riddle  that Mr.Woodhouse tries to remember. Now it  gives a real shiver to realize that my long standing belief that the General was courting Catheirne for himself takes on a horrific  dimension when we realize that Kitty a fair  but frozen maid might just  be Kitty (i.e.,Catherine) Morland!

There’s much much more to tell about why this reading works so well, but not tonight.

Cheers, ARNIE
@JaneAustenCode  on Twitter

Saturday, February 15, 2014

The Shirtless Horseman Vlad (the Impostor) Putin & Jane Austen's Pussy Riot

My post in August 2012 re Russia's Pussy Riot....


...needs an update. These truly heroic young women have now been released from jail in Russia by the shirtless horseman, Vladimir Putin, and they just appeared on The Colbert Report (watch all three of these links):




In my above linked blogpost, I pointed to the eerie, sad parallel between the imprisonment of the Hunt brothers in 1812, for 2 years, for daring to call the Prince Regent (i.e., virtually the King) of England the debauched, degraded, misogynistic pig he was in a newspaper editorial. It's exactly the same scenario, history repeating itself.

The Hunts were visited in prison by the best and brightest in the English cultural world, just as these modern Russian heroines have now received the best possible public platform to continue their vital work here in the US before returning to Russia.

And I am sure that Jane Austen wishes she had lived in a world where she could do exactly what Colbert did, and make her own sharp satire of "the Prince of Whales" (see the link in my blog post to the Colleen Sheehan 2007 Persuasions Online article) explicit, and not herself be thrown into prison. She'd sure be cheering Pussy Riot on!!!

So make this post go viral, so that everyone learns about what they're doing, and how brave they are.

A shirtless monster on a horse with as much power as any human being on the planet is nobody to mess with lightly, so bravo to them for responding to him with "Bring it on!", and let's support them in this brave peaceful protest against male chauvinist, homophobic "parental tyranny"!

Cheers, ARNIE
@JaneAustenCode

I just found another imaginary character other than Mr. Perry in Emma and Nurse Rooke in Persuasion!

I just found another imaginary character in an Austen novel other than Emma or Persuasion!

And, as I reiterated for the umpteenth time in a post earlier today, that means, I found a significant character who may, OR MAY NOT, be imaginary, depending on which perspective you take on the passages about this character in the novel. Either reading is perfectly plausible.

Here are some giant hints.

He is a man,
He never speaks in the novel,
He is never described by any narration other than narration which can readily be read as the heroine's subjective perception, rather than clearly objective report of a fact,
He may or may not have ever actually been alive.

I found him out via Google--and you could do it too, very easily, if you were willing to go on the hypothesis that I am correct about Mr. Perry being an imaginary character during the action of Emma, and try to figure out how to use Google to find out if anyone else saw something strange about this character, just the way Wiltshire and Stafford saw something strange about Mr. Perry, but did not think far enough outside the box to realize what it meant.

This imaginary character is even more spectacular than Mr. Perry, actually, because the role this imaginary character plays in his novel is very similar to the role that "George Kaplan" plays in Hitchcock's North by Northwest.

And even I, an hour ago, never realized, it was only with the inadvertent help of another Austen scholar rendered a very long time ago, that I instantly understood Jane Austen's trick.  Just amazing!

While I am working on my post about this latest discovery of mine, I invite anyone to give it a go and guess the answer before I reveal it myself!

Cheers, ARNIE
@JaneAustenCode on Twitter

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Jane Austen's Didactic Goals as an Author: Teaching Readers to Read Their Own Lives Better

I've  previously written on several occasions about my understanding of Jane Austen's didactic goals as an author, how she wished to teach readers to read their own lives better, by first learning to her specially designed novels better.

Here are a couple of earlier posts in that vein:






 Yesterday I reiterated my longstanding opinion in this regard in Janeites & Austen L as follows: "Jane Austen was looking to foster her readers's thinking outside the box, that was the primary didactic goal she had in mind..."

In Janeites, my premise was questioned, on the hypothesis that JA would have done a better job of it and more people would have seen it in 200 years. I.e. JA was a genius and could have written her stories so that the lesson was more obvious.

I replied as follows:

I've addressed that point many times, but am very happy to address it again, perhaps more clearly than before.

The most significant fact I see in that regard is the clear progression through her novels of increasing overtness of the shadow stories. By the time she publishes Emma in early 1816, she has learnt from her experience over 5 years as a published author that readers were NOT picking up on the shadows in S&S, P&P, and MP. So, I infer, she decided to put the mystery that was already there in more veiled format in the first three published novels, into much more explicit terms in Emma.

That's why, for starters, she put an overt "gotcha" in Emma (our finding out in Chapter 46 that there's been a whole different story going on just beyond Emma's awareness for the first 5/6 of the novel). THere's nothing like that in S&S, P&P and MP.

And that's also why you have broad narrative winks like....

"With regard to her not accompanying them to Ireland, her account to her aunt contained nothing but truth, though there might be some truths not told." That's JA telling us that there are things happening in the novel that the narrator won't lie about, but also won't tell you explicitly. There's nothing like that in S&S, P&P, and MP.

And how about this whopper....

"Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken; but where, as in this case, though the conduct is mistaken, the feelings are not, it may not be very material". That's JA telling you that she's not going to debrief everything that happens in her novels, even at the end. You're going to have be a proactive elf, and dig, struggle, puzzle, work hard to see into the shadows she so artfully creates. And, yet again, nothing like that in S&S, P&P, and MP.

And of course, there's Mr. Weston saying "There are secrets in all families, you know" .

In short, you don't see passages like that in the first three published novels, even though, as my research has shown me, they are just like Emma in being filled with shadow stories, hidden reversals of character, etc. It's not that Emma was a radical departure from the earlier novels, it's that she decided to reveal more of the shadows that were there from S&S onward.

My best sense is that (ironically) JA initially overestimated her readers' capacity to catch her irony! She was herself, by 1811, at age 35, so deeply immersed in it, having been refining her craft and her mastery of irony in words for more than twenty years with obsessive focus, that she really could not anticipate how completely taken in her readers would be, how they'd all be (in Miss Bates's terms) "a little deaf". Because she was human, she could not entirely escape the subjectivity of her own immersion in her fictional shadow worlds, and somehow remember how it was to be different than that--maybe she really was born so different from other people, even the smart people that filled her family, that she was already conscious of her genius at age 10. I think so.

Anyway, because of the kinds of passages I've quoted above, that's why Emma is the one Austen heroine who has famously and brilliantly and implicitly been identified as "clueless" by Amy Heckerling---even though, actually, all my research has shown me that they are ALL clueless--especially Elinor, Elizabeth and Anne, while Fanny and Catherine, ironically, are much less clueless.

So, to recap, by the time she is writing Emma, she realizes she needs to bring that cluelessness front and center. And even so....the readers mostly STILL did not get it. It was just too radically new a way to write novels, the world still has not caught up to her two centuries later. But there were those--like Haden the apothecary, like Mrs. Pole (aka the widow of Erasmus Darwin), like Martha Lloyd, like Anne Sharp, who were in on the secret, I am convinced. JA was not entirely alone in her own world, and thank god for that, to have been completely unknown as the genius she was would have been a form of hell.

And so, back to my claim of didactic intent on JA's part: Take the Zen aphorism that Lizzy Bennet utters seriously, as a manifesto for JA's didactic goals as a novelist:

"We all love to instruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing" My way of resolving the paradox of this aphorism is to translate it as follows:

"To really teach people how to see their world more objectively, by being very very conscious of their own subjective pride, prejudice, sensibility, and persuadability, you can't just write a textbook that explicitly and linearly instructs them to "Be careful of your subjectivity leading you astray!" You can't learn that sort of wisdom from a textbook. The only way to teach this lesson through a book, is to provide fiction that induces in the reader the actual experience of seeing the world through the eyes of the heroine, and being misled just like the heroine, such that, upon REreading, you begin to realize how you've been deceived by the author, and then that begins the healthy and very educational process of learning to view the world from a variety of perspectives outside one's previous comfort zone.

That's how you begin to gain more insight as to how to live one's own daily life being aware that there are secrets and deceptions everywhere in human society, so embrace that reality, and get smart about how to maneuver in such a world, or you'll be eaten alive. THAT'S knowledge worth knowing, and it can only be earned that way, proactively, with struggle, not passively, like taking a sip from a baby bottle. But then, tragically...one thing went very wrong--she died before she could write any more novels, and (more important) before she could (eventually) feel safe revealing her shadow stories to the world.

She was Ulysses/Odysseus, wanting to first plant a million Trojan Horses (i.e., copies of her novels) in every literate home in England. Then in a one-page publication as a by then famous and well-respected author, she could have revealed the essence of the Jane Austen Code, and her radical feminist message, and it would not have been possible for the genie to be stuffed back in the bottle by the male powers that be, many of whom were (ironically) Janeites, because (a la DW Harding), they did not recognize that they themselves were the satirical targets of her exquisitely regulated hatred!

So, much as they would then have liked to emulate Sir Thomas....

"Sir Thomas was in hopes that another day or two would suffice to wipe away every outward memento of what had been, even to the destruction of every unbound copy of Lovers' Vows in the house, for he was burning all that met his eye."

...it would not have been possible. Women all over England would have been empowered to organize in order to smash through the sexist barriers, beginning with the right to vote, changing marital laws, etc etc.

But then, in 1818, before JA was cold in the grave, a nightmare alternative scenario was enacted instead. Henry Austen published his biographical notice, and the Myth of Jane Austen was born, and from that instant forward, only those few who instinctively enjoy puncturing myths have been able to peek around the myth and begin to figure out what was going on under the surface. Although I saw the shadows of Jane Austen on my own for the first time in July 2002, my research since then has relied on countless other pioneers who've each seen some small piece of the puzzle, and have all provided me with what I could not supply out of my own imagination, in order to see Jane Austen as she really was.

Cheers,
ARNIE
@JaneAustenCode on Twitter