Showing posts with label Pride and Prejudice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pride and Prejudice. Show all posts
Monday, September 05, 2016
Giveaway: Darcy By Any Other Name
Posted by
JaneGS
I don't read much Austenesque fiction these days, but when I heard that Laura Hile (who wrote the fabulous Mercy's Embrace 3-parter) was coming out with a P&P-inspired work, I knew that I had to read it because:
1) It would be funny and sweet and interesting.
2) It would be well-written and carefully crafted.
3) It would be unique.
Darcy By Any Other Name delivers on all three counts, and it was a fun way to spend the last week of August. And, if you comment below and provide me with your email address and I randomly select you, you can enjoy a e-book version, courtesy of Laura herself!
So here's the basic idea--think Freaky Friday and/or A Christmas Carol ala Austen. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Collins are caught in a ferocious thunderstorm during the Netherfield Ball. Lightning (or Providence) makes them switch bodies and they get the opportunity to stare down their biggest flaws and recognize their true heart's desire and uncover their true characters.
Since Darcy is in the title, you are right in assuming that the bulk of the story is really about his coming to terms with his flaws, desires, and character, and I must say that I quite liked him as an earnest clergyman. I guess when you have the right stuff, it really doesn't matter the physical trappings!
So, if you're looking for a wonderful romp in Austen land, guided by a true Janeite who doesn't mind playing around with the canon, then definitely give this novel a whirl.
And if you want a chance at the e-book, leave me a comment below. I'll randomly select the author at 8 pm (MT) on Friday, September 9. Since we're talking e-book, the giveaway is open internationally.
Wednesday, May 06, 2015
Comparing Framley Parsonage to Pride and Prejudice
Posted by
JaneGS
A
few years ago, my regional JASNA organization had a meeting in which we looked
at how Jane Austen influenced other writers.
I tackled Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South, and blogged about my
thoughts in these posts:
A friend
of mine and fellow Janeite, Maxene, gave a paper comparing Trollope’s Framely
Parsonage with Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.
After finishing Framely Parsonage and posting about it, I reread Maxene’s
paper and thought it so good that I got her permission to post it on my blog.
So,
for your reading pleasure, courtesy of Maxene…
[Spoiler alert - Maxene does summarize the plot in her paper below]
FRAMLEY PARSONAGE and PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
Attributing
literary influence is always difficult. We’ve seen that even with all the
similarities between North and South
and Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth
Gaskell never did acknowledge being influenced by Jane Austen.
With
Anthony Trollope, it’s a far different matter. Trollope’s novelist mother,
Fanny Trollope, loved to read Austen’s works and they were widely read in the
Trollope household by the entire family.
When
Anthony was nineteen, he stated that Pride
and Prejudice was the best novel in the English language. He retained his
high opinion of Jane Austen throughout his life. So, we may very well ask: was
Trollope thinking of Pride and Prejudice
when he wrote Framley Parsonage in 1859-60?
Framley Parsonage, fourth novel in Trollope’s
Barchester Chronicles, is typically Victorian with multiple interconnecting
plots. I’ll give a summary before turning to an analysis. One plot in the novel
involves Mark Robarts, a young vicar living at Framley Parsonage with his wife,
Fanny. Mark was given the living by his school friend, Lord Ludovic Lufton, who
lives at Framley Park with his mother, Lady Lufton, the reigning social
matriarch of the neighborhood. Mark, trying to climb the social ladder,
foolishly signs a guarantee for the villainous Mr. Sowerby, the local MP. He
eventually faces financial ruin and social scandal when he cannot pay this
debt.
The
second plot concerns Lucy Robarts, Mark’s sister, a petite, rather plain young
woman, who comes to live with Mark and Fanny at the Parsonage. Lord Lufton,
after some initial hesitancy, falls in
love with Lucy, seriously displeasing his mother, Lady Lufton, who has already
made an arrangement with the Archdeacon’s wife, Mrs. Grantley, whereby Ludovic
would marry Griselda Grantley, beautiful, but shallow and insipid. Lady Lufton tells her son: “She (Lucy) is not
of that class from which I would have you choose.” Ludovic, however, proposes
to Lucy and she, knowing of his mother’s hostility, refuses him, for his sake,
and lies to him about her love for him. Lucy declares that she will marry Ludovic
only if his mother asks her to do so.
It
isn’t until Lucy has shown her real mettle by caring for the critically-ill
Mrs. Crawley, wife of a poverty-stricken curate, thus endangering her own life
to save that poor woman’s, that Lady Lufton realizes Lucy’s strength of
character and her worthiness to marry Ludovic. Lady Lufton then goes to the
Crawley cottage and asks Lucy to marry her son.
Just
from this short summary, we can see some similarities with Pride and Prejudice.
When
we look further, we can see that there are similarities in the financial
positions of the two heroines. Both Lucy and Lizzy are poor, Lucy even poorer
than Lizzy and also an orphan. And note the similar names as well. Neither
young woman is considered to be a beauty, Lizzy being compared unfavorably to
her much prettier sister, Jane, and Lucy to the elegant but heartless Griselda
Grantley.
Secondly,
there is a putative pre-arranged marriage in both novels. Lady Catherine and
Lady Anne Darcy supposedly had committed their progeny “while in their cradles”
to a life together while Lady Lufton and Mrs. Grantley have decided that their
children should wed.
Thirdly,
unequal marriages play a part in both novels. Lord Lufton is aristocratic and
wealthy, and we know that Mr. Darcy has at least 10,00 pounds a year. But here
is where there is a great difference between the two novels. Trollope, the
Victorian, acceded to his era’s conventional wisdom that an unequal marriage,
based on social position and wealth, would lead to misery since the young lady
would never be able to fit into an elevated society and to fulfill her social
responsibilities. To that conventional wisdom, Austen would say: “Ha!” Austen’s
idea of an unequal marriage is inequality of intellect. Conventional wisdom
would applaud Lucy’s refusal of Ludovic’s proposal as well as Lizzy’s of Mr.
Darcy’s first, but, as we know, Austen did not have Elizabeth refuse Darcy
because of any perceived social inequality, but rather because of his treatment
of Jane and Wickham.
The
real difference between the novels is expressed in the two scenes between Lady
Lufton and Lucy on the one hand and of
Lady Catherine and Lizzy on the other.
We recall that Lizzy rejects Lady Catherine’s attempts to paint her as a
polluter of the shades of Pemberley.”He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman’s
daughter,” she affirms and she refuses to promise never to enter into a
betrothal with Mr. Darcy. Lizzy also says these important words: “And with
regard to the resentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the
former were excited by his marrying
me, it would not give me one moment’s concern—and the world in general would
have too much sense to join in the scorn.”
But
in Lucy’s scene with Lady Lufton, she says the following: “ I could not endure
to come into this house as your son’s wife, and be coldly looked on by your
son’s mother. Much as I loved him, much as I do love him, dearly as I prize the
generous offer which he came down here to repeat to me, I could not live with
him to be made the object of your scorn. I sent him word, therefore, that I
would have him when you would ask me, and not before.” The narrator states that Lady Lufton: “did sympathize with her, and admire her, and
to a certain extent like her….and to feel that but for certain unfortunate
concomitant circumstances the girl before her might have made a fitting Lady
Lufton.” Lucy acts out of pride, yes, but a different type of pride from Lizzy’s.
As the narrator states: “strong as her love was yet her pride was perhaps
stronger.” Lucy bows down to social convention—She will not go where she is not
welcomed.
Fourthly,
both Lizzy and Lucy underestimate their
lovers. When Darcy leaves the inn at Lambton, Lizzy believes she will never see
him again. With Lydia’s situation
resolved without scandal, she regrets Darcy’s having known about it since she thinks
he would never renew his offer to someone related to Wickham. However, as we
know, Darcy has raced to the rescue for Lizzy’s sake and done so
altruistically, not wishing her to know what he has done.
In Framley Parsonage, Ludovic, too, acts
faithfully and heroically. He, unfortunately, must suffer another rejected
proposal by Lucy, but he also rescues a family member. He redeems Mark’s debts,
blaming himself for not warning Mark about Sowerby’s machinations, and thus
saves Mark from financial ruin.
In
both novels, there is a theme of indebtedness, albeit less strong in Pride and Prejudice. Darcy, in trying to
keep from Lizzy knowledge of his part in saving Lydia, doesn’t want her to
incur any debt to him. When he renews his proposal, he wishes her acceptance to
be free and open and not clouded by her gratitude. Lucy, by insisting that Lady
Lufton ask her to marry Ludovic, wants to be welcomed into her new family
without feeling indebted.
With
Ludovic’s paying of Mark’s debts, the two plots of Framley Parsonage—the church-related and the courtship, come
together. Pamela Regis, in her History of
the Romance Novel, writes that the “Lucy-Ludovic plot reproduces the
thematic concerns of the church plot with the elements of the romance novel.”
Both plots hinge on the unpayable debt.
In
her Persuasions article: Pride and Prejudice and Framley Parsonage: A StructuralResemblance, Barbara Horwitz summarizes the similarities between the two
novels: “the lovers’ unequal social and economic situations, their initial
disdain for each other, an overbearing and interfering older female relative, a
sibling in need of rescue, the initial proposal and refusal, the heroine’s
surprise at the moral worth and constancy of the hero, a second, more favorably
received proposal, suspicion that the heroine’s motives are mercenary, and the
eventual marriage and settling down happily on the family property.”
The
basic difference between the two novels is in their respective heroines. Trollope wrote in the Victorian period. His
heroine is more restricted, as is the period in which she was created.
Elizabeth Bennet is a product of the less strait-laced Regency society as well as
being the creation of a more socially rebellious author who, in Pride and Prejudice, defies the accepted
social conventions.
After
Trollope’s death, an article in the Spectator
linked the two authors: “The loss of Mr. A. Trollope makes us turn back from
his long series of elaborate pictures of English society…to those in which Miss
Austen painted the rural society of England during the end of the last and
beginning of the present century.” In a Persuasions
article by Pamela Neville-Sington: Jane Austen and the Trollopes, the author
concludes: “Anthony Trollope was his mother’s son, but he preferred to be
thought of as Jane Austen’s literary successor.”
***
Thank you, Maxene, for that terrific article. Now let's go back to reading Austen!
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Classics Salon - Character You Relate To
Posted by
JaneGS
Saari at Mangoes and Cherry Blossoms is hosting a weekly Classics Salon wherein participants chat about the classic works of literature we are currently reading. She posts a discussion prompt, and for this, the 2nd week, her prompt is:
If you could be any character in the current classic you are reading (or in the last classic you read) who would you be and why? In other words, tell us something about any character you find yourself relating to or empathising or sympathising with.
Since I'm reading two classics at the moment, Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope and David Copperfield by Charles Dickens, I'll respond with thoughts on both books. Framley Parsonage - the heroine, Lucy Robards, definitely is the most attractive character of the lot. She is quietly witty, keeps her own counsel, feels deeply, tries to do what is right and just, is loyal and interesting. I'm not sure that I empathize with her as much as I admire her, but there's a lot there to like. By contrast, her sister-in-law, Fanny Robards, has many of the same qualities but indulges in hero worship more than is wise, at least with regards to her relationship to Lady Lufton, her husband's patroness. I'm finally starting to see the Pride and Prejudice connection with Framley Parsonage, with Mark Robards as Mr. Collins, though without being the writhing buffoon that Collins is, and Fanny as the practical Charlotte Collins, Lady Lufton as the overbearing patroness, Lady Catherine, dear Lucy in the role of Elizabeth Bennet, and Lord Lufton as love-sick Mr. Darcy.
Now, on to David Copperfield - I can't say I particularly empathize with David, though I enjoy his journey to maturity and root for him heartily. I'm neither a Clara Copperfield, nor an Agnes Wickfield, nor a Dora Spenlow, and I hope I'm not an Aunt Betsey. I can't imagine rejecting a nephew because he wasn't a niece, nor do I think donkeys are plagues upon respectable people, but her generosity and embrace of the disenfranchised, both David and Mr. Dick, make her wonderful in my eyes. I suppose the character to whom I can connect most on a personal level is dear Peggotty, David's nurse and lifelong friend. All she really wants is a comfortable home and a quiet, purposeful life. She values her family and is fierce in her protection of them and her friends, whom she makes into family.
If you could be any character in the current classic you are reading (or in the last classic you read) who would you be and why? In other words, tell us something about any character you find yourself relating to or empathising or sympathising with.
Since I'm reading two classics at the moment, Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope and David Copperfield by Charles Dickens, I'll respond with thoughts on both books. Framley Parsonage - the heroine, Lucy Robards, definitely is the most attractive character of the lot. She is quietly witty, keeps her own counsel, feels deeply, tries to do what is right and just, is loyal and interesting. I'm not sure that I empathize with her as much as I admire her, but there's a lot there to like. By contrast, her sister-in-law, Fanny Robards, has many of the same qualities but indulges in hero worship more than is wise, at least with regards to her relationship to Lady Lufton, her husband's patroness. I'm finally starting to see the Pride and Prejudice connection with Framley Parsonage, with Mark Robards as Mr. Collins, though without being the writhing buffoon that Collins is, and Fanny as the practical Charlotte Collins, Lady Lufton as the overbearing patroness, Lady Catherine, dear Lucy in the role of Elizabeth Bennet, and Lord Lufton as love-sick Mr. Darcy.
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| Lord Lufton and Lucy Robards |
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| Aunt Betsey and Peggotty |
Sunday, January 05, 2014
Longbourn, by Jo Baker
Posted by
JaneGS
My first book of 2014 is Jo Baker's Longbourn, which tells the stories of the servants who wait on the Bennet family of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.
I found the world of the servants to be fascinating and the characters interesting. Sarah, the main character, is the orphan daughter of weavers who died when she was young, and she was taken in hand by the Bennet's housekeeper, Mrs. Hill, and raised and taught how to be a maid in a gentleman's house. Polly, the younger of the two maids, was a poorhouse child. James, the footman, was a laborer who joined the army and fought in Spain. The third section of the book tells his story, which I found extremely interesting. Sarah is initially attracted to Ptolemy Bingley, a black footman of Mr. Bingley's, who aspires to owning a tobacco shop in London.
A few years ago I read Lady's Maid, by Margaret Forster, which is a fictional take on the maid of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and I think Longbourn provides an equally compelling look at what continues to be an underexposed and under-appreciated strata of society. I was pleasantly surprised by how Longbourn also served as a vehicle for Baker to present her interpretation of PandP characters. For example, when Elizabeth's marriage to Mr. Darcy is fast approaching, she reveals a nervousness about leaving home and I earmarked the passage in which her maid, Sarah, muses on this:
Perhaps it was not an easy thing, to be so entirely happy. Perhaps it was actually quite a fearful state to live in—the knowledge that one had achieved complete success.Austen famously doesn't often describe clothes or furniture or houses, beyond a general impression they give--Pemberley excepted--so I thought Baker's description of Mrs. Bennet's dressing room to be quite insightful and revealing about both Baker's Mrs. Hill and Austen's Mrs. Bennet.
Mrs. Bennet's dressing room: her inner sanctum, her retreat from the pressing demands of family life; a place of bulging upholstery and swags and cushions and drapes and Turkey-rugs; a place heaped with worn-once gowns, abandoned shawls, spencers, pelisses and bonnets; a place of rose-petal mustiness, of striped and flowered wallpaper, of surfaces trinked out with all the porcelain her pin money could supply, and all the paper flowers and shellwork and scrollwork and embroidered panels and painted china her daughters' nimble fingers could furnish, and all of it decomposing now and peeling and gathering dust, and driving Mrs. Hill's ordered, governable heart to distraction.Austen's works illustrate the narrow options available to women; Longbourn goes a step further and shows how poor, working women had even fewer options. The one thing they had was the expectation that their lives would be spent working. I can relate to that in a way I could never relate to the life of a genteel woman of the time.
I also thought that Baker stayed very true to a strict reading of PandP, with her portrayal of Mr. Bennet being the only one that veered off strict canon. Some might argue that Elizabeth was portrayed as less than saintly, but then she never claimed to be as good as Jane anyway! Baker also provides good backstory info on villainous Mr. Wickham, and provides a very refreshing view of Mr. Collins and the long disparaged Charlotte Lucas.
Be forewarned, this is not a retelling of Pride and Prejudice. Mr. Darcy barely figures in the story, and we see none of the romance between Darcy and Elizabeth or Bingley and Jane. But that's okay, they have a wonderful book published two hundred and one years ago. Longbourn tells the story of Sarah and Polly, James and Mrs. Hill, and I'm glad that they finally have their day in the sun.
This book is part of my Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Cross-Pollination with Stephanie's Everything Austen
Posted by
JaneGS

Stephanie of stephanie's written word is doing a giveaway of two, count 'em two, copies of my collection of Austen-inspired short stories entitled Intimations of Austen. This is part of her wonderful Everything Austen reading challenge, which has been sweeping the blogosphere and twitterland. For all of us who read Austen and Austen-inspired on a regular basis, this is a reading challenge made in heaven.
Thanks Stephanie for doing this giveaway.
I do want to take this opportunity to point out that the title is Intimations with an "n" not Imitations with an "m" - I wouldn't presume to imitate Austen, only to be inspired by her! A number of people have made this mistake...hindsight is 20-20 and I probably could've picked a better title.
If you're interested in Intimations of Austen, here are the blurbs I recently wrote about my stories:
Rainbow around the Moon
This is one of the shortest stories in the collection and is a first-person narrative by the daughter of Captain and Anne Eliot Wentworth. Many find it hauntingly beautiful, many find it desperately sad, many find it peaceful and reassuring. I loved writing it. I was driving to work one morning and the opening line, "My father watches the sky" popped into my head. By the time I had finished my commute, I knew that I would be writing a Persuasion story that night. I also remember how much fun I had researching all the expressions that sailors use in predicting weather, starting with the most familiar...red sky at morning, sailors take warning.
The Last Baby
Regarding Austen characters we love to hate, this is one of my favorite stories because it evokes such strong response from readers. It is a Pride and Prejudice-inspired story, a sequel and prequel wrapped up together, and Mrs. Bennet is the heroine! Again, the story began with an opening line that demanded a story be written around it: "My arms are empty."
Bird of Paradise
Once again, this is one of my favorites because so many readers tell me that they absolutely love seeing Fanny Price with an unambiguously happy future. This story begins with the wedding of Fanny and her cousin, Edmund Bertram, and goes gothic when Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca tries to steal the scene. I loved writing it and researching flowers that take awhile to bloom, but when they do, they do so gloriously. My favorite Austen critics have written about how Fanny is one of the most passionate of all Austen heroines, and I wanted to find a story and symbolism that would capture that passion she hid so well while under her Aunt Norris's thumb at Mansfield Park.
All I Do
By far the longest of the stories in this collection, this is a what-if Pride and Prejudice-inspired story that is angst ridden and forces the characters and the readers to address a moral dilemma that has no easy answer. Most readers love this story, but a few are seriously troubled by it. As a writer, I wrestled with the same question that Darcy wrestles with--how can I rid myself of this obligation without compromising my integrity. The story takes place twenty years after Austen's P&P closes, and it was immensely satisfying to write about a mature Elizabeth in middle age. The inspiration for Colonel Fitzwilliam's burial place in this story was Princess Diana's--her death, though it happened several years before I wrote this story, was still fresh in my mind.
Three Sisters
This story was once described as the anti-Persuasion. I won't give away the one-two punch at the end by telling you which Austen novel it's really about, but suffice it to say, I always rather thought that Lady Russell has gotten a bad rap all these years and that she may have had point that Anne Eliot and Austen readers don't like to acknowledge.
The Color of Love
I thought about this story for years before I sat down to write it. One of my brothers sent me an article about Synesthesia, a neurologically based condition in which one sensory path is crossed with another. There are many varieties of Synesthesia, and one that I read about involved reading in color. I found in this a way to explore Darcy's struggle to reconcile his love for Elizabeth Bennet with his own sense of self and family. This story parallels the action of Austen's Pride and Prejudice, but is told entirely from Darcy's perspective as a synesthete.
When Fates Conspire
The last story I wrote for the collection and different from most of the others in tone. This Persuasion story focuses on Captain Wentworth as he approaches Kellynch Hall to visit his sister and her husband. I was in a fanciful mood when I sat down to write this story, and when I got to wondering just what those Fates who play with our fate really look like and sound like pure fancy struck my pen.
Remember That We Are English
A Northanger Abbey story that explores how Henry felt knowing that his father was entirely mistaken about Catherine Morland's family and prospects. One of the threads that runs through most of my stories is that the natural world can heal wounded spirits if you seek solace and wisdom in it, and in this story that thread is given center stage.
Heaven Can Wait
This story was written as the dénouement for a longer work on Marianne Dashwood, post Sense and Sensibility, but I came to love Gideon Hayes, Jane Bennet's original suitor, so much that I had to share it in this collection. Again, this story blends the magic inherent in nature with a character's struggle to move forward, grow, and live and love. I shamelessly borrowed the title from that cute Warren Beatty movie from 1978.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Wives and Daughters: P&P - The Gibsons and the Bennets
Posted by
JaneGS
I meant to make this posting on W&D about the passive aggressiveness of both Mr. and Mrs. Gibson (don't you just "love" how Mr. Gibson guilts Molly into doing/saying/feeling what he wants her to by withdrawing his affections and presence...see conversation about Molly calling Clare/Hyacinth "Mamma" in chapter 15) and also about the lack of expression the narrator notes in both Mrs. Gibson's and Cynthia's eyes, whilst cleverly observing that this was the era during which the eyes were universally recognized as being the windows to the soul...but no matter.
I read chapter 24 tonight and since I know P&P chapter/verse I couldn't help but being struck by this passage:
And who does that sound like if not Mr. Bennet?
And who does not insist on her share of the conversation if not Lady Catherine de Bourgh?
And this whole passage reminded me strongly of Elizabeth deflecting Mrs. Bennet while they were visiting Netherfield when Jane was sick--not so much in content but in tone and even cadence.
I imagine that I am making too much of this, and that as a Janeite, I see Austen's influence everywhere, but I have to wonder whether consciously or unconsciously, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were in Gaskell's mind when she was forming Mr. and Mrs. Gibson. Mrs G. certainly has the same matchmaking tendencies as Mrs. B., and her husband is forced to retreat into his shell to escape from her silliness.
Final note today - I noticed a discrepancy in the conversation cited above.
In my Penguin Classics edition, Cynthia says "I don't know longitude from altitude," whereas the online source that I cut and pasted from says "I don't know longitude from latitude..."
I prefer 'altitude' to 'latitude' because it's funnier (and Cynthia playing at Mrs. Malaprop is funny!). I do think Cynthia has a better sense of humor than I originally gave her credit for, but I wonder which is what Gaskell actually wrote. Perhaps Jenny Uglow will mention this in the bio--I'm not reading her analysis of W&D until I finish the book. Of course, regardless of what Gaskell wrote, critics will debate what she meant because she regularly made mistakes with chronology and geography and had a hard time keeping straight what she called various characters. All part of her charm, in my opinion.
I read chapter 24 tonight and since I know P&P chapter/verse I couldn't help but being struck by this passage:
and to those whom he liked Mr Gibson could be remarkably agreeable.
And who does that sound like if not Mr. Bennet?
Cynthia and Molly looked their best, which was all the duty Mrs Gibson absolutely required of them, as she was willing enough to take her full share in the conversation.
And who does not insist on her share of the conversation if not Lady Catherine de Bourgh?
'Cynthia is not a dunce either,' said Mrs Gibson, afraid lest her daughter's opinion of herself might be taken seriously. 'But I have always observed that some people have a talent for one thing and some for another. Now Cynthia's talents are not for science and the severer studies. Do you remember, love, what trouble I had to teach you the use of the globes?'
'Yes; and I don't know longitude from latitude now; and I'm always puzzled as to which is perpendicular and which is horizontal.'
'Yet, I do assure you,' her mother continued, rather addressing herself to Osborne 'that her memory for poetry is prodigious. I have heard her repeat the "Prisoner of Chillon" from beginning to end.'
'It would be rather a bore to have to hear her, I think,' said Mr Gibson, smiling at Cynthia, who gave him back one of her bright looks of mutual understanding.
And this whole passage reminded me strongly of Elizabeth deflecting Mrs. Bennet while they were visiting Netherfield when Jane was sick--not so much in content but in tone and even cadence.
I imagine that I am making too much of this, and that as a Janeite, I see Austen's influence everywhere, but I have to wonder whether consciously or unconsciously, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were in Gaskell's mind when she was forming Mr. and Mrs. Gibson. Mrs G. certainly has the same matchmaking tendencies as Mrs. B., and her husband is forced to retreat into his shell to escape from her silliness.
Final note today - I noticed a discrepancy in the conversation cited above.
In my Penguin Classics edition, Cynthia says "I don't know longitude from altitude," whereas the online source that I cut and pasted from says "I don't know longitude from latitude..."
I prefer 'altitude' to 'latitude' because it's funnier (and Cynthia playing at Mrs. Malaprop is funny!). I do think Cynthia has a better sense of humor than I originally gave her credit for, but I wonder which is what Gaskell actually wrote. Perhaps Jenny Uglow will mention this in the bio--I'm not reading her analysis of W&D until I finish the book. Of course, regardless of what Gaskell wrote, critics will debate what she meant because she regularly made mistakes with chronology and geography and had a hard time keeping straight what she called various characters. All part of her charm, in my opinion.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Two Guys Read Jane Austen - Yawn
Posted by
JaneGS
I confess, I was really looking forward to reading about how Two Guys Read Jane Austen
I had a nice long flight from Denver to Boston on Sunday, and settled back and read the whole thing cover to cover. I'm glad I'm done with it and can pass it on to someone else. I don't think I'll even bother to shelve it on my miscellaneous Austen shelf (I had been thinking between Fay Weldon's Letters to Alice on First Reading Jane Austen (Weldon, Fay)
What didn't I like? Well, for starters reading Austen means reading the lot, not just Pride and Prejudice and Mansfield Park. That's called starting to read Austen. There are only six novels, for goodness sake. I got the feel these two guys were so eager to rush to print (to take advantage, as they acknowledge, of the Austen goldrush) that they read two and decided to call it good enough. But, no Emma? No Persuasion? Not good enough.
And frankly, they could have dispensed with the college-prank stories, the rehab stories, the plugging-their-other-books stories, and the wife stories. Publishing their letters is a nice gimmick, but how many times do I need to read "Give my love to Miranda" to get the effect of the letters-between-friends bit? When I read a book about Austen, I want it to be about Austen. I found myself skimming the non-Austen stuff looking for more Austen stuff.
The one bright spot was when one of them--and I never really tried to keep straight which one was talking--gave a reasonably good explanation for why Austen chose Henry VIII as the play from which Henry Crawford read and that Lady Bertram labels Crawford as quite a good actor.
They're probably looking for speaking opportunities now that they're Austen "experts" and they're a novelty in that they are beer-drinking guys who like to talk Austen. If they come to my neck of the woods, I might give them another chance, but I thought the book a trifle dull.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Bits and Bobs
Posted by
JaneGS
Observations on both books that I'm currently reading.
I'm sailing through Daphne, and am nearing the end. It is still as fascinating at this point and getting more impressive. I love how Picardie is able to keep the three voices balanced, and I truly love how the stories of Branwell and the Brontes, Syminton, Daphne du Maurier and her pathetic husband, his Snow Queen, and, of course, her Rebecca, parallel and weave with the modern unnamed heroine and her Paul and his Rachel and Menabilly/Manderley. I have just got to read the recent bio of du Maurier.
In reading about Symington and his futile attempts to bring order and articulation to his life's work (and theft, er, borrowing) with regards to Branwell, I am reminded of Casaubon in George Eliot's Middlemarch. Much as I love and identify with Dorothea, I truly feel sorry for Casaubon. He has what I have come to call the Amadeus complex--he recognizes genius, appreciates genius, and is tormented because as close as he gets to the sublime in art, as much as he is moved by it, he can never produce a work that approaches greatness. For him, it's not enough to appreciate and enjoy. He wants to create, and his efforts can never be more than pedantic, and he knows it in his heart. For me, that is Symington.
I am also still slowly working my way through Rebecca Dickson's A Jane Austen Treasury. One of the gems in this book is her micro essay regarding why anyone should watch the Laurence Olivier/Greer Garson Pride and Prejudice movie from 1940. I've always enjoyed the campiness of it, as well as the cinematic sexiness of Olivier. But, Dickson's sidebar talks about how this movie actually was part of Britain's propaganda to bring the U.S. into WWII on the side of the Allies, showing how Darcy wasn't really against the middle classes (aka the American Dream). According to Dickson, this movie demonstrates, by having Lady Catherine conspiring with Darcy to confirm that Elizabeth will love him as much if he's a poor man, that if the U.S. joins the war effort it "isn't going to war to help save an aristocracy--they're going to war to help the adorable Lizzie Bennet and her soon-to-be aunt-in-law, the chummy Cathy Bourgh." I give Dickson 10 gold stars for this analysis. I love it!
I'm sailing through Daphne, and am nearing the end. It is still as fascinating at this point and getting more impressive. I love how Picardie is able to keep the three voices balanced, and I truly love how the stories of Branwell and the Brontes, Syminton, Daphne du Maurier and her pathetic husband, his Snow Queen, and, of course, her Rebecca, parallel and weave with the modern unnamed heroine and her Paul and his Rachel and Menabilly/Manderley. I have just got to read the recent bio of du Maurier.
In reading about Symington and his futile attempts to bring order and articulation to his life's work (and theft, er, borrowing) with regards to Branwell, I am reminded of Casaubon in George Eliot's Middlemarch. Much as I love and identify with Dorothea, I truly feel sorry for Casaubon. He has what I have come to call the Amadeus complex--he recognizes genius, appreciates genius, and is tormented because as close as he gets to the sublime in art, as much as he is moved by it, he can never produce a work that approaches greatness. For him, it's not enough to appreciate and enjoy. He wants to create, and his efforts can never be more than pedantic, and he knows it in his heart. For me, that is Symington.
I am also still slowly working my way through Rebecca Dickson's A Jane Austen Treasury. One of the gems in this book is her micro essay regarding why anyone should watch the Laurence Olivier/Greer Garson Pride and Prejudice movie from 1940. I've always enjoyed the campiness of it, as well as the cinematic sexiness of Olivier. But, Dickson's sidebar talks about how this movie actually was part of Britain's propaganda to bring the U.S. into WWII on the side of the Allies, showing how Darcy wasn't really against the middle classes (aka the American Dream). According to Dickson, this movie demonstrates, by having Lady Catherine conspiring with Darcy to confirm that Elizabeth will love him as much if he's a poor man, that if the U.S. joins the war effort it "isn't going to war to help save an aristocracy--they're going to war to help the adorable Lizzie Bennet and her soon-to-be aunt-in-law, the chummy Cathy Bourgh." I give Dickson 10 gold stars for this analysis. I love it!
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Mary Bennet - Finis
Posted by
JaneGS
My mother always told me that if I couldn’t say something nice about someone to not say anything at all. Dorothy Parker quipped that if you can’t say something nice about someone, then sit next to her.
Old habits die hard and I’d rather love something than hate it, so maybe that’s why I’ve come up with a silver lining for The Independence of Mary Bennet. In the end, it made me laugh, though I doubt that was McCullough’s intention. Who knows what she intended to do with this novel, but it is such a silly, poorly written wreck of a book that I ended up shaking with laughter. As most reviewers have pointed out, McCullough crossed a line with this novel. I don’t mean the trashing of beloved Pride and Prejudice characters and their families. I mean she crossed the line at which she stopped taking her work seriously and started taking herself seriously, and the result is laughable and sad.
I read and enjoyed The First Man in Rome and The Grass Crown last year and was anticipating reading Caesar’s Women later this year. Now, I don’t know if I’ll bother. I know I won’t be reading her Antony and Cleopatra as it’s clear she’s lost her way as a writer. I don’t think McCullough was ever a great storyteller or writer, but she was a credible one. After finishing The Independence of Mary Bennet last night, I don’t consider her credible anymore.
I’m not sure why her editor, agent, publicist, or publisher didn’t have the guts to tell her that this story was not ready for prime time, but someone should have. Someone should have edited the clichés out. Someone should have tightened up the long internal dialogues and deleted the self questioning and insisted on McCullough showing rather than telling about a character’s evolution. There are so many things wrong with this novel that it will be required reading in writers workshops for years.
All this said, the most damning aspect of the novel is her utter disrespect for Austen. I don’t mean the trashing of her characters—I can live with that—but on pages 294-295, McCullough, who used her reputation as a bestselling author to get this egregious piece of writing published, has the gall to have her character Angus Sinclair tell Mary Bennet how foolish she was to plan on using the nine thousand pounds that Darcy had given her to publish a book. He goes on to say, “…But you must never pay to have a book published! If it’s worth reading, a publisher will be willing to incur the expense of publication himself. In effect, he takes a gamble on the author—that the book will attract enough readers to make a profit.”
As a respite from the dubious pleasure of reading this book, I started reading Rebecca Dickson’s A Jane Austen Treasury. In chapter one, Dickson shows the title page of the first edition of Sense and Sensibility, which clearly states that it was “Printed for the Author.” Austen paid to have this timeless novel printed. Mark Twain aside, there aren’t too many people who would say that Sense and Sensibility was not worth reading. The same cannot be said of The Independence of Mary Bennet.
Without McCullough’s name on it, this novel would never have seen the light of day. It shouldn’t have. Honestly, I would rather laugh at works that are intentionally funny, not those that are sadly so. It goes against the grain to say unkind things, at least out loud.
Sorry, Mom. I hope I haven’t set myself up for payback in the karma department, but I was asked to write a review and I did look for something nice to say. Really, I did.
Old habits die hard and I’d rather love something than hate it, so maybe that’s why I’ve come up with a silver lining for The Independence of Mary Bennet. In the end, it made me laugh, though I doubt that was McCullough’s intention. Who knows what she intended to do with this novel, but it is such a silly, poorly written wreck of a book that I ended up shaking with laughter. As most reviewers have pointed out, McCullough crossed a line with this novel. I don’t mean the trashing of beloved Pride and Prejudice characters and their families. I mean she crossed the line at which she stopped taking her work seriously and started taking herself seriously, and the result is laughable and sad.
I read and enjoyed The First Man in Rome and The Grass Crown last year and was anticipating reading Caesar’s Women later this year. Now, I don’t know if I’ll bother. I know I won’t be reading her Antony and Cleopatra as it’s clear she’s lost her way as a writer. I don’t think McCullough was ever a great storyteller or writer, but she was a credible one. After finishing The Independence of Mary Bennet last night, I don’t consider her credible anymore.
I’m not sure why her editor, agent, publicist, or publisher didn’t have the guts to tell her that this story was not ready for prime time, but someone should have. Someone should have edited the clichés out. Someone should have tightened up the long internal dialogues and deleted the self questioning and insisted on McCullough showing rather than telling about a character’s evolution. There are so many things wrong with this novel that it will be required reading in writers workshops for years.
All this said, the most damning aspect of the novel is her utter disrespect for Austen. I don’t mean the trashing of her characters—I can live with that—but on pages 294-295, McCullough, who used her reputation as a bestselling author to get this egregious piece of writing published, has the gall to have her character Angus Sinclair tell Mary Bennet how foolish she was to plan on using the nine thousand pounds that Darcy had given her to publish a book. He goes on to say, “…But you must never pay to have a book published! If it’s worth reading, a publisher will be willing to incur the expense of publication himself. In effect, he takes a gamble on the author—that the book will attract enough readers to make a profit.”
As a respite from the dubious pleasure of reading this book, I started reading Rebecca Dickson’s A Jane Austen Treasury. In chapter one, Dickson shows the title page of the first edition of Sense and Sensibility, which clearly states that it was “Printed for the Author.” Austen paid to have this timeless novel printed. Mark Twain aside, there aren’t too many people who would say that Sense and Sensibility was not worth reading. The same cannot be said of The Independence of Mary Bennet.
Without McCullough’s name on it, this novel would never have seen the light of day. It shouldn’t have. Honestly, I would rather laugh at works that are intentionally funny, not those that are sadly so. It goes against the grain to say unkind things, at least out loud.
Sorry, Mom. I hope I haven’t set myself up for payback in the karma department, but I was asked to write a review and I did look for something nice to say. Really, I did.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
The Independence of Miss Mary Bennet: A Novel
Posted by
JaneGS
I started this Colleen McCullough novel this afternoon and, as expected, am feeling ambiguous about it.

On the one hand, McCullough is a good storyteller and I find I'm being sucked into the story wondering how everything is going to work out. On the other hand, this is fanfic and she's breaking the canon into little tiny bits without much respect for the Austen characters she's stealing.
First impressions? I wonder whether McCullough didn't write a Regency Romance and then decide to jump on the Austen bandwagon and changed all the names to those from P&P. I don't really wonder that, but I think most Janeites would like the story better if it were straight Regency Romance and not P&P fanfic--messing with Darcy and Lizzy is a dangerous game.
I do think the plot is promising, the characterization good (just not recognizable as the P&P characters I grew up with), and the level of detail okay. Granted, I just finished Voyager by Diana Gabaldon--I'm rereading the lot in anticipation of the final book in the series coming out this year--and McCullough is just not in the same league as Gabaldon when it comes to details.
It's telling that Mary is turning out to be another Elizabeth--in looks, in spirit, in attractiveness. She's a bit modern, though, to be really believable as a 37-year old woman in 1830. I've been reading lots of fiction about women in 1830-1850, and McCullogh's Mary is strictly a 20th century gal. Plus, it's hard to believe that Mary from P&P could blossom into Elizabeth after 17 years of nursing her mother while buried in a country estate with a big library just because her skin cleared up and she got some dental work done.
McCullough clearly appreciates the Lizzy of P&P since her story is that Mary is really Elizabeth having another chance to pick Mr. Right.
Back to being fair and giving this book a fighting chance...Charlie Darcy promises to be a gem of a character--the sensitive but all-man type--and his relationship to Aunt Mary is intriguing, at least at this point. We'll see what McCullough does with that. Having read half of her Rome series, this relationship could get pretty twisted pretty fast.
On the one hand, McCullough is a good storyteller and I find I'm being sucked into the story wondering how everything is going to work out. On the other hand, this is fanfic and she's breaking the canon into little tiny bits without much respect for the Austen characters she's stealing.
First impressions? I wonder whether McCullough didn't write a Regency Romance and then decide to jump on the Austen bandwagon and changed all the names to those from P&P. I don't really wonder that, but I think most Janeites would like the story better if it were straight Regency Romance and not P&P fanfic--messing with Darcy and Lizzy is a dangerous game.
I do think the plot is promising, the characterization good (just not recognizable as the P&P characters I grew up with), and the level of detail okay. Granted, I just finished Voyager by Diana Gabaldon--I'm rereading the lot in anticipation of the final book in the series coming out this year--and McCullough is just not in the same league as Gabaldon when it comes to details.
It's telling that Mary is turning out to be another Elizabeth--in looks, in spirit, in attractiveness. She's a bit modern, though, to be really believable as a 37-year old woman in 1830. I've been reading lots of fiction about women in 1830-1850, and McCullogh's Mary is strictly a 20th century gal. Plus, it's hard to believe that Mary from P&P could blossom into Elizabeth after 17 years of nursing her mother while buried in a country estate with a big library just because her skin cleared up and she got some dental work done.
McCullough clearly appreciates the Lizzy of P&P since her story is that Mary is really Elizabeth having another chance to pick Mr. Right.
Back to being fair and giving this book a fighting chance...Charlie Darcy promises to be a gem of a character--the sensitive but all-man type--and his relationship to Aunt Mary is intriguing, at least at this point. We'll see what McCullough does with that. Having read half of her Rome series, this relationship could get pretty twisted pretty fast.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Final thoughts on Austen's Influence on Gaskell's North and South
Posted by
JaneGS
I posted on the similarities of plot lines here; the background on Gaskell and her reputation pre-N&S here; similarities of language and characterization here; and some thoughts on why Gaskell might have turned to Austen and P&P for a model and inspiration here. In this final post on the topic, I want to address who might have put this idea to turn to Austen into Gaskell's head.
To reiterate...
So, based primarily on the comedic plot outline (which is definitely not part of either MB or R) and to a lesser degree the similarities in language, characterization, and some scenes, it seems that Gaskell used P&P as a way of approaching her story, N&S, and making it more generally appealing and less controversial than the earlier social problem novels. While Mary Barton and Ruth were ultimately successful, the controversy they aroused was uncomfortable. Knowing that Cranford, which was evocative of Austen in terms of rural village life, was well liked, it seems that Gaskell turned to Austen more directly in her next novel, N&S.
I’ve been wondering whether she did this on her own, or whether someone else suggested it.
I first thought of John Forster, literary agent and close friend of both Charles Dickens and Elizabeth Gaskell. They were regular correspondents, and he provided guidance regarding her career as an author. My thought process is that if Forster admired Austen so much that he assumed Dickens had read Emma and was influenced by it, it is not unlikely that he would have counseled his friend Gaskell to study Austen as well. In fact, in his review of Ruth, Forster compared Gaskell to Austen saying that both writers are characterized by "little unexpected touches that surprise the reader into tears or laughter," arising from "a quickness of minute observation and light movement of the fancy, feminine qualities employed in a charming feminine way."
I’ve also thought a lot about G.H. Lewes, his admiration for Austen, and his clout with the Victorian intellectuals. While Gaskell didn’t personally like Lewes, she read his articles and seemed to respect his intellect and opinions. More significantly, though, Lewes did actually counsel Charlotte Bronte to study Austen, and Gaskell and Charlotte were close friends.
Charlotte wrote to Lewes after he reviewed Jane Eyre in 1847 and he wrote back advising Charlotte to take Austen as a model. She did not like this idea one bit and wrote in return:
"What a strange lecture comes next in your letter! You say I must familiarise my mind with the fact, that 'Miss Austen is not a poetess, has no "sentiment" (you scornfully enclose the word in inverted commas), no eloquence, none of the ravishing enthusiasm of poetry,'--and then you add, I MUST 'learn to acknowledge her as ONE OF THE GREATEST ARTISTS, OF THE GREATEST PAINTERS OF HUMAN CHARACTER, and one of the writers with the nicest sense of means to an end that ever lived.' The last point only will I ever acknowledge.”
While Gaskell does reprint another exchange on Austen between Lewes and Bronte in her bio of Bronte, Gaskell does not comment in the narrative on her friend Charlotte’s dislike of Austen. Gaskell wrote The Life of Charlotte Bronte immediately after finishing the serialization of North and South—perhaps she found herself between the proverbial rock and hard place. P&P clearly influenced N&S—Charlotte Bronte clearly disliked Austen. Gaskell neatly walked the tightrope by quoting Charlotte’s letter on the subject without additional commentary. Perhaps she didn’t think it would be fair to disagree with her on Austen posthumously and publicly—when Charlotte couldn’t explain herself further. Had she agreed with Bronte on Austen, I don’t think she would have hesitated to let the world know that. This itself seems to corroborate Austen’s influence on Gaskell.
My personal favorite musing on this subject is that Charlotte Bronte herself recommended Austen to Gaskell with regards to N&S. I find it significant that Gaskell mailed the outline of N&S to Dickens, who published it in serial form in "Household Words," the day after Charlotte Bronte left the Gaskell home where she had been visiting for a few weeks. It is speculated that the two authors discussed their next projects during this visit, and it’s likely that Gaskell discussed her plans, hopes, and frustrations with the reading public with Bronte and her ideas around N&S. While George Lewes recommended that Bronte read Austen, and specifically P&P, it's not a stretch that though Bronte didn't care for Austen herself, she might have recommended the same thing to Gaskell, who was a very different sort of author from Bronte. Perhaps they might have recalled Richard Whately’s opinion that Austen was a master at presenting a moral tale in a highly palatable fashion and that if Gaskell wanted to continue writing her own moral tales—i.e., addressing social problems and resolving them through fiction—then she might study how Austen accomplished this.
One final point on Bronte and Gaskell, in my reading on both authors, I have seen no evidence of the “green-eyed monster” – that is, any professional jealousy between Bronte and Gaskell or for earlier authors, male or female. In fact, such jealousy would be very out of character for either of them. So I can’t really accept the notion that Gaskell used Austen but didn’t acknowledge this because of jealousy of “rising star.” In Uglow's bio, she discusses how Gaskell befriended younger female authors, and her relationship with Bronte really seems to be that of an older sister and not a rival.
Finally, Gaskell’s husband, William, had a big influence on her writing career. He had urged her to write in the first place, and read, commented, and proofed all of her work. He, like his wife, was well-educated and he taught literature at the Working Men's College in Manchester. As one of his students recalled, he was "the most beautiful reader I have ever heard." With Austen’s novels showing up on the bookcases of the fictional Mr. Harrison, we can safely assume that Austen’s novels were on the Gaskell bookcases as well, that Wm. Gaskell read them aloud in his lectures on literature, and perhaps suggested to his wife that she could do worse than look to Austen and Pride and Prejudice for inspiration, technique, language, and comfort.
To reiterate...
So, based primarily on the comedic plot outline (which is definitely not part of either MB or R) and to a lesser degree the similarities in language, characterization, and some scenes, it seems that Gaskell used P&P as a way of approaching her story, N&S, and making it more generally appealing and less controversial than the earlier social problem novels. While Mary Barton and Ruth were ultimately successful, the controversy they aroused was uncomfortable. Knowing that Cranford, which was evocative of Austen in terms of rural village life, was well liked, it seems that Gaskell turned to Austen more directly in her next novel, N&S.
I’ve been wondering whether she did this on her own, or whether someone else suggested it.
I first thought of John Forster, literary agent and close friend of both Charles Dickens and Elizabeth Gaskell. They were regular correspondents, and he provided guidance regarding her career as an author. My thought process is that if Forster admired Austen so much that he assumed Dickens had read Emma and was influenced by it, it is not unlikely that he would have counseled his friend Gaskell to study Austen as well. In fact, in his review of Ruth, Forster compared Gaskell to Austen saying that both writers are characterized by "little unexpected touches that surprise the reader into tears or laughter," arising from "a quickness of minute observation and light movement of the fancy, feminine qualities employed in a charming feminine way."
I’ve also thought a lot about G.H. Lewes, his admiration for Austen, and his clout with the Victorian intellectuals. While Gaskell didn’t personally like Lewes, she read his articles and seemed to respect his intellect and opinions. More significantly, though, Lewes did actually counsel Charlotte Bronte to study Austen, and Gaskell and Charlotte were close friends.
Charlotte wrote to Lewes after he reviewed Jane Eyre in 1847 and he wrote back advising Charlotte to take Austen as a model. She did not like this idea one bit and wrote in return:
"What a strange lecture comes next in your letter! You say I must familiarise my mind with the fact, that 'Miss Austen is not a poetess, has no "sentiment" (you scornfully enclose the word in inverted commas), no eloquence, none of the ravishing enthusiasm of poetry,'--and then you add, I MUST 'learn to acknowledge her as ONE OF THE GREATEST ARTISTS, OF THE GREATEST PAINTERS OF HUMAN CHARACTER, and one of the writers with the nicest sense of means to an end that ever lived.' The last point only will I ever acknowledge.”
While Gaskell does reprint another exchange on Austen between Lewes and Bronte in her bio of Bronte, Gaskell does not comment in the narrative on her friend Charlotte’s dislike of Austen. Gaskell wrote The Life of Charlotte Bronte immediately after finishing the serialization of North and South—perhaps she found herself between the proverbial rock and hard place. P&P clearly influenced N&S—Charlotte Bronte clearly disliked Austen. Gaskell neatly walked the tightrope by quoting Charlotte’s letter on the subject without additional commentary. Perhaps she didn’t think it would be fair to disagree with her on Austen posthumously and publicly—when Charlotte couldn’t explain herself further. Had she agreed with Bronte on Austen, I don’t think she would have hesitated to let the world know that. This itself seems to corroborate Austen’s influence on Gaskell.
My personal favorite musing on this subject is that Charlotte Bronte herself recommended Austen to Gaskell with regards to N&S. I find it significant that Gaskell mailed the outline of N&S to Dickens, who published it in serial form in "Household Words," the day after Charlotte Bronte left the Gaskell home where she had been visiting for a few weeks. It is speculated that the two authors discussed their next projects during this visit, and it’s likely that Gaskell discussed her plans, hopes, and frustrations with the reading public with Bronte and her ideas around N&S. While George Lewes recommended that Bronte read Austen, and specifically P&P, it's not a stretch that though Bronte didn't care for Austen herself, she might have recommended the same thing to Gaskell, who was a very different sort of author from Bronte. Perhaps they might have recalled Richard Whately’s opinion that Austen was a master at presenting a moral tale in a highly palatable fashion and that if Gaskell wanted to continue writing her own moral tales—i.e., addressing social problems and resolving them through fiction—then she might study how Austen accomplished this.
One final point on Bronte and Gaskell, in my reading on both authors, I have seen no evidence of the “green-eyed monster” – that is, any professional jealousy between Bronte and Gaskell or for earlier authors, male or female. In fact, such jealousy would be very out of character for either of them. So I can’t really accept the notion that Gaskell used Austen but didn’t acknowledge this because of jealousy of “rising star.” In Uglow's bio, she discusses how Gaskell befriended younger female authors, and her relationship with Bronte really seems to be that of an older sister and not a rival.
Finally, Gaskell’s husband, William, had a big influence on her writing career. He had urged her to write in the first place, and read, commented, and proofed all of her work. He, like his wife, was well-educated and he taught literature at the Working Men's College in Manchester. As one of his students recalled, he was "the most beautiful reader I have ever heard." With Austen’s novels showing up on the bookcases of the fictional Mr. Harrison, we can safely assume that Austen’s novels were on the Gaskell bookcases as well, that Wm. Gaskell read them aloud in his lectures on literature, and perhaps suggested to his wife that she could do worse than look to Austen and Pride and Prejudice for inspiration, technique, language, and comfort.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Pride and Prejudice vs. North and South: Why the Similarities
Posted by
JaneGS
I posted on the similarities of plot lines here; the background on Gaskell and her reputation pre-N&S here; and similarities of language and characterization here.
Now I want to start addressing why N&S is so similar to P&P.
I don’t want to suggest that in N&S Gaskell simply retold or reshaped P&P into her own setting and time—fan fiction it is not. Margaret is not an Elizabeth, and Thornton is not a Darcy, though I do believe that the men are more similar as characters than Margaret is to Elizabeth, and while both authors deal with the notions of pride and prejudice extensively, they diverge significantly in other themes and tone and especially setting. Nor do I want to suggest that the strong parallels between N&S and P&P are coincidence or evidence that Austen simply modeled her story on an earlier archetypal story that Gaskell is also tapping into. I believe that Gaskell consciously used P&P as a model for N&S—the trick is that there is no hard evidence that she did so. Her daughters, like Cassandra Austen, burned much of her correspondence at her death. And while, many of her letters remain, many were destroyed. So, Austen’s influence on Gaskell can only be surmised.
I think that Gaskell consciously used the story arc of P&P for N&S because she desperately wanted to produce another significant novel (i.e., one that deals with a social problem) but that was also popular with the middle-class reading public and she was either coached by one or more of a handful of likely candidates or concluded on her own that P&P was an excellent model for her story and that invoking Austen was a sure fire way to appeal to the middle-class.
So let’s review Gaskell and her career as an author.
Gaskell was born Elizabeth Cleghorn Stevenson in 1810—her mother died when she was a year old and though her father remarried when she was four, she lived with a maternal aunt and was surrounded by her mother’s family in Warwick, near Stratford-on-Avon. Both her parents were Unitarians, and as such she was very well-educated and was brought up to be tolerant and rational. Her father, whom she visited occasionally, died when she was 19 and two years later she married Wm. Gaskell, a Unitarian minister whose parish was in Manchester. She was active in her husband’s parish as a teacher and was sympathetic to the plight of the workers. She was very much an Elizabeth Bennet type of person—pretty, vivacious, well-educated and articulate, charming, flirtatious, sympathetic, and had many friends from all walks of life. She loved gossip and was a born story-teller. She had four daughters who lived to adulthood; one and possibly two sons who died in infancy; and a still-born daughter.
At her husband’s suggestion and example, shortly after they were married, she began writing non-fiction, mostly travel pieces, and soon transitioned to short stories. In all, she wrote seven novels, a biography of Charlotte Bronte, several novellas, and over sixty short stories. She very much believed that she could help ease society’s ills through her writing, and her first two novels were, what is called, social-problem novels. The first, Mary Barton, was written to shed light on the plight of the working class and portray them as human beings with a sense of dignity, family loyalty, capable of deep love, and beloved of God. The second, Ruth, told the story of an unwed mother who was seduced and abandoned by a rich young man. Both Mary Barton and Ruth are very much parables in that their plots and characters are intended to provide a moral lesson. They were both highly controversial but ultimately successful and brought Gaskell notoriety as well as celebrity.
Friends and family as well as reviewers were deeply divided over these two books—some friends burned them; they were often banned, and many labeled them as indecent, unwomanly, and disloyal (i.e., that is, to her class and friends). They were also highly praised, not only for their literary value but for their message, their compassion, and the way they grappled with tough issues. Though she was proud of her work in Mary Barton and Ruth, Gaskell was devastated by the criticism. Shortly after Ruth, she wrote that she wanted to write something more popular and less controversial, though still with a purpose, in her next novel. I think the important thing to keep in mind with Gaskell is that she wanted her stories to help society—she also wanted people to like her.
Also inspiring her to move away from creating another strictly social-problem novel was the success she had with Cranford. While she was writing Ruth, Gaskell was also writing a series of pieces for Dickens’ magazine Household Words that were slices of life in a small rural village in the north of England. These were nostalgic, sentimental, and absolutely beloved. She published them in book form in the same year she published Ruth. John Forster, a literary critic and close friend of Gaskell and a fellow Unitarian whom I quoted earlier praising Austen, loved the Cranford stories, and said the “little book which collects them will be a ‘hit’ if there be any taste left for that kind of social painting.’ As Forster was a big fan of Austen, it is generally assumed that he was comparing Cranford to Austen here, with his reference to social painting. In fact, when I read the book I felt that I was back in Highbury and that Miss Bates would be great friends with the sisters Jenkins and the other Amazons that inhabit Cranford. Cranford definitely feels like the "Further Adventures of Highbury."
So, based primarily on the comedic plot outline (which is definitely not part of either Mary Barton or Ruth) and to a lesser degree the similarities in language, characterization, and some scenes, it seems that Gaskell used P&P as a way of approaching her story, N&S, and making it more generally appealing and less controversial than the earlier social problem novels. While Mary Barton and Ruth were ultimately successful, the controversy they aroused was uncomfortable. Knowing that Cranford, which was evocative of Austen in terms of rural village life, was well liked, it seems that Gaskell turned to Austen more directly in her next novel, N&S.
I’ve been wondering whether she did this on her own, or whether someone else suggested it. More on that next time I address this topic.
Now I want to start addressing why N&S is so similar to P&P.
I don’t want to suggest that in N&S Gaskell simply retold or reshaped P&P into her own setting and time—fan fiction it is not. Margaret is not an Elizabeth, and Thornton is not a Darcy, though I do believe that the men are more similar as characters than Margaret is to Elizabeth, and while both authors deal with the notions of pride and prejudice extensively, they diverge significantly in other themes and tone and especially setting. Nor do I want to suggest that the strong parallels between N&S and P&P are coincidence or evidence that Austen simply modeled her story on an earlier archetypal story that Gaskell is also tapping into. I believe that Gaskell consciously used P&P as a model for N&S—the trick is that there is no hard evidence that she did so. Her daughters, like Cassandra Austen, burned much of her correspondence at her death. And while, many of her letters remain, many were destroyed. So, Austen’s influence on Gaskell can only be surmised.
I think that Gaskell consciously used the story arc of P&P for N&S because she desperately wanted to produce another significant novel (i.e., one that deals with a social problem) but that was also popular with the middle-class reading public and she was either coached by one or more of a handful of likely candidates or concluded on her own that P&P was an excellent model for her story and that invoking Austen was a sure fire way to appeal to the middle-class.
So let’s review Gaskell and her career as an author.
Gaskell was born Elizabeth Cleghorn Stevenson in 1810—her mother died when she was a year old and though her father remarried when she was four, she lived with a maternal aunt and was surrounded by her mother’s family in Warwick, near Stratford-on-Avon. Both her parents were Unitarians, and as such she was very well-educated and was brought up to be tolerant and rational. Her father, whom she visited occasionally, died when she was 19 and two years later she married Wm. Gaskell, a Unitarian minister whose parish was in Manchester. She was active in her husband’s parish as a teacher and was sympathetic to the plight of the workers. She was very much an Elizabeth Bennet type of person—pretty, vivacious, well-educated and articulate, charming, flirtatious, sympathetic, and had many friends from all walks of life. She loved gossip and was a born story-teller. She had four daughters who lived to adulthood; one and possibly two sons who died in infancy; and a still-born daughter.
At her husband’s suggestion and example, shortly after they were married, she began writing non-fiction, mostly travel pieces, and soon transitioned to short stories. In all, she wrote seven novels, a biography of Charlotte Bronte, several novellas, and over sixty short stories. She very much believed that she could help ease society’s ills through her writing, and her first two novels were, what is called, social-problem novels. The first, Mary Barton, was written to shed light on the plight of the working class and portray them as human beings with a sense of dignity, family loyalty, capable of deep love, and beloved of God. The second, Ruth, told the story of an unwed mother who was seduced and abandoned by a rich young man. Both Mary Barton and Ruth are very much parables in that their plots and characters are intended to provide a moral lesson. They were both highly controversial but ultimately successful and brought Gaskell notoriety as well as celebrity.
Friends and family as well as reviewers were deeply divided over these two books—some friends burned them; they were often banned, and many labeled them as indecent, unwomanly, and disloyal (i.e., that is, to her class and friends). They were also highly praised, not only for their literary value but for their message, their compassion, and the way they grappled with tough issues. Though she was proud of her work in Mary Barton and Ruth, Gaskell was devastated by the criticism. Shortly after Ruth, she wrote that she wanted to write something more popular and less controversial, though still with a purpose, in her next novel. I think the important thing to keep in mind with Gaskell is that she wanted her stories to help society—she also wanted people to like her.
Also inspiring her to move away from creating another strictly social-problem novel was the success she had with Cranford. While she was writing Ruth, Gaskell was also writing a series of pieces for Dickens’ magazine Household Words that were slices of life in a small rural village in the north of England. These were nostalgic, sentimental, and absolutely beloved. She published them in book form in the same year she published Ruth. John Forster, a literary critic and close friend of Gaskell and a fellow Unitarian whom I quoted earlier praising Austen, loved the Cranford stories, and said the “little book which collects them will be a ‘hit’ if there be any taste left for that kind of social painting.’ As Forster was a big fan of Austen, it is generally assumed that he was comparing Cranford to Austen here, with his reference to social painting. In fact, when I read the book I felt that I was back in Highbury and that Miss Bates would be great friends with the sisters Jenkins and the other Amazons that inhabit Cranford. Cranford definitely feels like the "Further Adventures of Highbury."
So, based primarily on the comedic plot outline (which is definitely not part of either Mary Barton or Ruth) and to a lesser degree the similarities in language, characterization, and some scenes, it seems that Gaskell used P&P as a way of approaching her story, N&S, and making it more generally appealing and less controversial than the earlier social problem novels. While Mary Barton and Ruth were ultimately successful, the controversy they aroused was uncomfortable. Knowing that Cranford, which was evocative of Austen in terms of rural village life, was well liked, it seems that Gaskell turned to Austen more directly in her next novel, N&S.
I’ve been wondering whether she did this on her own, or whether someone else suggested it. More on that next time I address this topic.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Men and Their Houses
Posted by
JaneGS
TeresaAF from Elegant Extracts made an interesting comment on my post about the similarities between P&P and N&S with regards to the heroine softening towards the hero when she sees him in his native habitat--she related this to the scene in Miss Austen Regrets "where Dr. Haden remarks that Elizabeth Bennet only realizes she loves Mr. Darcy after she has seen how big his house is."
Fresh from that comment, I was proof listening to portion 2 of Gaskell's The Grey Woman, which I am recording for LibriVox, and I was struck by another aspect of this man/house characterization. In The Grey Woman, the heroine, Anna, becomes a prisoner in her husband's castle just as she becomes a prisoner in her marriage. She is isolated from her family, forbidden to enter parts of the castle, and spied upon by the servants. In fact, she says at one point that "I have sometimes fancied since that the flower-garden, to which the only access from the castle was through his rooms, was designed in order to give me exercise and employment under his own eye."
Likewise in Sylvia's Lovers, Gaskell describes Sylvia as feeling as if she is a prisoner in her husband's house. She, of course, is imprisoned by her marriage, which not only prevents her from marrying Kinraid when he returns for her but from living the rural life she has loved.
In all four works, the heroine first sees the main man (I can hardly call Monsieur de la Tourelle or Philip Hepburn "heroes") for what he truly is when he is in his own home, and that home reflects his character.
In P&P and N&S, the heroine softens toward the stern hero when she sees him at home. In The Grey Woman and Sylvia's Lovers, the heroine first starts hardening towards her husband after she sees his house, and how it represents him and their marriage.
In The Grey Woman, Anna is fearful of the castle from the outset and increasingly her eyes are opened to the fact that M. de la Tourelle is a hard, cruel, murderous man and not the effete charmer who wooed her; her husband's castle is made of rock; it's massive, mysterious, and threatening. Even the flower garden has an ulterior purpose.
In Sylvia's Lovers, Sylvia comes to understand that Philip is selfish, deceitful, and weak after Kinraid returns, but from her wedding day, long before Kinraid returned, she hated the confines and stale air of Philip's town house and longed for the fresh air, solitude, and freedom of the farm she left behind.
Fresh from that comment, I was proof listening to portion 2 of Gaskell's The Grey Woman, which I am recording for LibriVox, and I was struck by another aspect of this man/house characterization. In The Grey Woman, the heroine, Anna, becomes a prisoner in her husband's castle just as she becomes a prisoner in her marriage. She is isolated from her family, forbidden to enter parts of the castle, and spied upon by the servants. In fact, she says at one point that "I have sometimes fancied since that the flower-garden, to which the only access from the castle was through his rooms, was designed in order to give me exercise and employment under his own eye."
Likewise in Sylvia's Lovers, Gaskell describes Sylvia as feeling as if she is a prisoner in her husband's house. She, of course, is imprisoned by her marriage, which not only prevents her from marrying Kinraid when he returns for her but from living the rural life she has loved.
In all four works, the heroine first sees the main man (I can hardly call Monsieur de la Tourelle or Philip Hepburn "heroes") for what he truly is when he is in his own home, and that home reflects his character.
In P&P and N&S, the heroine softens toward the stern hero when she sees him at home. In The Grey Woman and Sylvia's Lovers, the heroine first starts hardening towards her husband after she sees his house, and how it represents him and their marriage.
In The Grey Woman, Anna is fearful of the castle from the outset and increasingly her eyes are opened to the fact that M. de la Tourelle is a hard, cruel, murderous man and not the effete charmer who wooed her; her husband's castle is made of rock; it's massive, mysterious, and threatening. Even the flower garden has an ulterior purpose.
In Sylvia's Lovers, Sylvia comes to understand that Philip is selfish, deceitful, and weak after Kinraid returns, but from her wedding day, long before Kinraid returned, she hated the confines and stale air of Philip's town house and longed for the fresh air, solitude, and freedom of the farm she left behind.
Friday, October 31, 2008
North and South vs. Pride and Prejudice - Part III
Posted by
JaneGS
I posted on the similarities of plot lines here, and the background on Gaskell and her reputation pre-N&S here.
So the next step is to look at similarities between the two novels, beyond the plot outline.
With regards to similarity in language, when rereading N&S last month I was struck by the frequent use of words that I tend to associate with P&P—namely, the words blind, offend or offensive, shame, honour, pride, disdain and prejudice. So I did a little, crude word count of these words in both novels, and then, by way of comparison, I counted the number of times these words appear in Dickens’ novel, Hard Times, which was written at the same time and about the same topic as N&S, namely labor relations in Manchester in the 1850s. I discovered that in both P&P and N&S the words honour, shame, and either offensive or offends show up significantly more than they do in Hard Times. I wouldn’t stake any claims regarding Austen’s influence on Gaskell based on this, but it was personally interesting to me to see validated my impression that the same language was being employed in two novels with such apparently different subjects as P&P and N&S.
Now let’s look at a few out of many passages in N&S that evoke P&P.
Here’s a passage in which Mr. Thornton has called at the Hales for the umpteenth time, and he has been, according to his friend and teacher, Mr. Hale, uncharacteristically quiet and out of sorts—like Mr. Darcy, Mr. Thornton repeatedly puts himself in situations where he can encounter the woman he admires but perplexes her by talking to her in a way that provokes her into irritating him:
“…uneasy at the thought that they [Margaret’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Hale] were detaining Mr. Thornton against his will, which was a mistake; for he rather liked it, as long as Margaret would talk, although what she said only irritated him.”
With regards to both gentlemen being seen to best advantage in their own home:
“Margaret's attention was thus called to her host; his whole manner as master of the house, and entertainer of his friends, was so straightforward, yet simple and modest, as to be thoroughly dignified. Margaret thought she had never seen him to so much advantage. When he had come to their house, there had been always something, either of over-eagerness or of that kind of vexed annoyance which seemed ready to pre-suppose that he was unjustly judged, and yet felt too proud to try and make himself better understood. But now, among his fellows, there was no uncertainty as to his position. He was regarded by them as a man of great force of character; of power in many ways. There was no need to struggle for their respect. He had it, and he knew it; and the security of this gave a fine grand quietness to his voice and ways, which Margaret had missed before.”
I think it fair to say that Margaret might answer when asked how long she has loved Mr. Thornton, that "…it has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. But I believe I must date it from my first seeing him in his house at Marlborough Mills."
Now on to the first proposal scenes—in P&P, it is famously in the exact center of the novel, a testament to Austen’s love of symmetry and her careful construction of the tension in the novel. In my paperback edition of N&S, there are 436 pages of novel text—the first proposal scene begins on page 193, slightly under the half way mark. Coincidence…I think not!
Another interesting point related to this is that N&S was serialized—meaning that Gaskell wrote and published chapters before completing the entire story. Although she did expand the ending when she readied it for publication in book form after the serialization, I would venture to state that her outline of the story, should we ever find it, would show the proposal smack in the middle of the outline just as P&P’s first proposal is precisely in the middle of the text.
Next time I post on the subject, I really will get into why I think N&S resembles P&P in so many ways.
So the next step is to look at similarities between the two novels, beyond the plot outline.
With regards to similarity in language, when rereading N&S last month I was struck by the frequent use of words that I tend to associate with P&P—namely, the words blind, offend or offensive, shame, honour, pride, disdain and prejudice. So I did a little, crude word count of these words in both novels, and then, by way of comparison, I counted the number of times these words appear in Dickens’ novel, Hard Times, which was written at the same time and about the same topic as N&S, namely labor relations in Manchester in the 1850s. I discovered that in both P&P and N&S the words honour, shame, and either offensive or offends show up significantly more than they do in Hard Times. I wouldn’t stake any claims regarding Austen’s influence on Gaskell based on this, but it was personally interesting to me to see validated my impression that the same language was being employed in two novels with such apparently different subjects as P&P and N&S.
Now let’s look at a few out of many passages in N&S that evoke P&P.
Here’s a passage in which Mr. Thornton has called at the Hales for the umpteenth time, and he has been, according to his friend and teacher, Mr. Hale, uncharacteristically quiet and out of sorts—like Mr. Darcy, Mr. Thornton repeatedly puts himself in situations where he can encounter the woman he admires but perplexes her by talking to her in a way that provokes her into irritating him:
“…uneasy at the thought that they [Margaret’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Hale] were detaining Mr. Thornton against his will, which was a mistake; for he rather liked it, as long as Margaret would talk, although what she said only irritated him.”
With regards to both gentlemen being seen to best advantage in their own home:
“Margaret's attention was thus called to her host; his whole manner as master of the house, and entertainer of his friends, was so straightforward, yet simple and modest, as to be thoroughly dignified. Margaret thought she had never seen him to so much advantage. When he had come to their house, there had been always something, either of over-eagerness or of that kind of vexed annoyance which seemed ready to pre-suppose that he was unjustly judged, and yet felt too proud to try and make himself better understood. But now, among his fellows, there was no uncertainty as to his position. He was regarded by them as a man of great force of character; of power in many ways. There was no need to struggle for their respect. He had it, and he knew it; and the security of this gave a fine grand quietness to his voice and ways, which Margaret had missed before.”
I think it fair to say that Margaret might answer when asked how long she has loved Mr. Thornton, that "…it has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. But I believe I must date it from my first seeing him in his house at Marlborough Mills."
Now on to the first proposal scenes—in P&P, it is famously in the exact center of the novel, a testament to Austen’s love of symmetry and her careful construction of the tension in the novel. In my paperback edition of N&S, there are 436 pages of novel text—the first proposal scene begins on page 193, slightly under the half way mark. Coincidence…I think not!
Another interesting point related to this is that N&S was serialized—meaning that Gaskell wrote and published chapters before completing the entire story. Although she did expand the ending when she readied it for publication in book form after the serialization, I would venture to state that her outline of the story, should we ever find it, would show the proposal smack in the middle of the outline just as P&P’s first proposal is precisely in the middle of the text.
Next time I post on the subject, I really will get into why I think N&S resembles P&P in so many ways.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Austen's Influence on Gaskell: Background Thoughts
Posted by
JaneGS
A few weeks ago, I posted about what I saw as the striking similarities between Pride and Prejudice and North and South.
Now, I'd like to back up and put N&S and Gaskell into context before thinking about why N&S might be modeled after P&P.
Austen’s reputation is currently at its high water mark. Scores of 21st century authors eagerly note Austen’s influence on their own work and not only have no problem in being compared to Austen, but clearly strive for that distinction.
But that was not always the case.
Austen died in 1817—as you know, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion were published posthumously, and Austen’s brother, Henry, introduced them with a 7-page biographical notice that emphasized the author’s piety and saintliness but not a lot more. In fact, there was not another bio of Austen until 1870, when her nephew, James Edward Austen-Leigh, published A Memoir of Jane Austen. Austen’s novels were reissued starting in 1833 and have never been out of print since then, which indicates that they were regularly read.
Timothy Spurgin, professor of English at Lawrence University, in one of his two lectures on Austen in his Teaching Company course, The English Novel, states that Austen’s earliest admirers were other writers, including Sir Walter Scott, who wrote a review of Emma that she was very proud of. He says that by the time of her death, she enjoyed a modest fame, but was not regarded as major figure. He goes on to say, that her reputation throughout most of the 19th century is that of a cult writer, a writer’s writer, whose fans admired her masterly use of dialogue and dramatic scenes.
Apart from Scott her early fans included Richard Whately, a professor of political economy at Oxford, and later Archbishop of Dublin. In 1821, he reviewed Persuasion and Northanger Abbey and wrote:
"The moral lessons…of this lady's novels, though clearly and impressively conveyed, are not offensively put forward, but spring incidentally from the circumstances of the story; they are not forced upon the reader, but he is left to collect them (though without any difficulty) for himself: hers is that unpretending kind of instruction which is furnished by real life; and certainly no author has ever conformed more closely to real life, as well in the incidents, as in the characters and descriptions. Her fables appear to us to be, in their own way, nearly faultless ... the story proceeds without the aid of extraordinary accidents…We know not whether Miss Austen ever had access to the precepts of Aristotle; but there are few, if any, writers of fiction who have illustrated them more successfully."
Thomas Babington Macaulay, poet, historian and politician, wrote extensively as an essayist and reviewer, though he died before completing his masterpiece, The History of England from the Accession of James the Second, which was published posthumously in 1861. In 1843 in an article entitled “The Diary and Letters of Mme. D'Arblay” published in the Edinburgh Review, Macaulay wrote that “Shakespeare has had neither equal or second. But among the writers who, in the point which we have noticed, have approached nearest to the manner of the great master, we have no hesitation in placing Jane Austen, a woman of whom England is justly proud. She has given us a multitude of characters, all in a certain sense, common place, all such as we meet every day. Yet they are all as perfectly discriminated from each other as if they were the most eccentric of human beings.”
Two other individuals—John Forster and G.H. Lewes—both praised Austen highly during this time period.
John Forster was the publishing industry’s first literary agent and a well-known and influential theatre and literary reviewer. In his 1872 biography of Dickens, Forster recalls discussing Nicholas Nickleby with Dickens when it was in draft form and he says, "I told him, on reading the first dialogue of Mrs. Nickleby and Miss Knag, that he had been lately reading Miss Bates in Emma, but I found that he had not at this time made the acquaintance of that fine writer."
Forster goes on to compare Dickens’ characterization with Austen’s: "This [characterization], which must always be a novelist's highest achievement, was the art carried to exquisite perfection on a more limited stage by Miss Austen…"
George Henry Lewes was also an influential Victorian reviewer and critic who wrote articles on a number of topics including philosophy, literature, and theatre. Lewes was a huge fan of Austen and wrote of her frequently, praising her technique and lamenting her lack of popularity. To give you a flavor of Lewes’s praise of Austen, in 1859, in an article entitled “The Novels of Jane Austen,” which was published in Blackwood’s Magazine, he says that “For nearly half a century England has possessed an artist of the highest rank, whose works have been extensively circulated, whose merits have been keenly relished, and whose name is still unfamiliar in men’s mouths….Miss Austen, indeed, has taken her revenge with posterity. She will doubtless be read as long as English novels find readers…[she] has generally but an indifferent story to tell, but her art of telling it is incomparable.”
Gaskell herself in Mr. Harrison’s Confessions in 1851 refers to Austen. Here, Mr. Harrison describes his new lodgings as his mentor, Mr. Morgan, helps him get settled:
Mr. Morgan took the house and delighted in advising and settling all my affairs. I was partly indolent, and partly amused, and was altogether passive. The house he took for me was near his own: it had two sitting-rooms downstairs…The back room was my consulting-room ("the library," he advised me to call it), and he gave me a skull to put on the top of my bookcase, in which the medical books were all ranged on the conspicuous shelves; while Miss Austen, Dickens and Thackeray were, by Mr. Morgan himself, skilfully placed in a careless way, upside down or with their backs turned to the wall.
So, the stage is set for our discussion of Austen’s influence on Elizabeth Gaskell, though we are now seeing a renaissance of her popularity after a decline into almost complete obscurity, was one of the leading Victorian novelists of her day. As I’ve discussed, Austen’s novels were being reissued starting in 1833 and were popular enough to stay in print indefinitely. Literary critics were occasionally singing her praises as a portrait painter and an effective teller of moral tales. Her somewhat self-deprecating remark about her art being confined to painting on bits of ivory with a small brush is taken at face value by these critics and she is appreciated as an artist within those limitations.
So let’s dive N&S, and then come back to a more general discussion of Gaskell. Unlike Austen’s novels, N&S is not a comedy, though it does follow the classic comedic tradition in that in ends with the marriage of the hero and heroine, but it has few if any funny scenes or characters. Unlike any of Austen’s works, it is very topical to its time and portrays all levels of society, from the desperately poor and oppressed factory workers in the north of England to London’s high society. Unlike Austen’s work, it drips pathos and is devoid of irony. In a nutshell, the heroine, Margaret Hale, moves with her parents from the south of England to the city of Milton, which was Gaskell’s name for Manchester in this novel. Her father has given up his living because he has developed doubts regarding the infallibility of the Church of England—this part is a bit complicated, and I’m not going to go into how it all worked—but suffice it to say that the Hales leave their beloved rural home to live in a manufacturing town where they are not only complete outsiders but have no understanding of the issues that keep the factory workers and the mill owners at each others’ throats. Mr. Hale now earns his living by teaching, and one of his students is mill owner, John Thornton, a self-made man, a master, and a self-described “hard” man known for his stubbornness, his ruthlessness in business, and his integrity. In addition to getting to know the Thorntons and other mill owners, Margaret also becomes friends with a family whose father, Nicholas Higgins, is a union man who is instrumental in organizing strikes against the mills. Through Margaret, Thornton and Higgins first come to know each other and then to understand each other. From that understand, they learn to work together to meet their common objectives.
Now, I'd like to back up and put N&S and Gaskell into context before thinking about why N&S might be modeled after P&P.
Austen’s reputation is currently at its high water mark. Scores of 21st century authors eagerly note Austen’s influence on their own work and not only have no problem in being compared to Austen, but clearly strive for that distinction.
But that was not always the case.
Austen died in 1817—as you know, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion were published posthumously, and Austen’s brother, Henry, introduced them with a 7-page biographical notice that emphasized the author’s piety and saintliness but not a lot more. In fact, there was not another bio of Austen until 1870, when her nephew, James Edward Austen-Leigh, published A Memoir of Jane Austen. Austen’s novels were reissued starting in 1833 and have never been out of print since then, which indicates that they were regularly read.
Timothy Spurgin, professor of English at Lawrence University, in one of his two lectures on Austen in his Teaching Company course, The English Novel, states that Austen’s earliest admirers were other writers, including Sir Walter Scott, who wrote a review of Emma that she was very proud of. He says that by the time of her death, she enjoyed a modest fame, but was not regarded as major figure. He goes on to say, that her reputation throughout most of the 19th century is that of a cult writer, a writer’s writer, whose fans admired her masterly use of dialogue and dramatic scenes.
Apart from Scott her early fans included Richard Whately, a professor of political economy at Oxford, and later Archbishop of Dublin. In 1821, he reviewed Persuasion and Northanger Abbey and wrote:
"The moral lessons…of this lady's novels, though clearly and impressively conveyed, are not offensively put forward, but spring incidentally from the circumstances of the story; they are not forced upon the reader, but he is left to collect them (though without any difficulty) for himself: hers is that unpretending kind of instruction which is furnished by real life; and certainly no author has ever conformed more closely to real life, as well in the incidents, as in the characters and descriptions. Her fables appear to us to be, in their own way, nearly faultless ... the story proceeds without the aid of extraordinary accidents…We know not whether Miss Austen ever had access to the precepts of Aristotle; but there are few, if any, writers of fiction who have illustrated them more successfully."
Thomas Babington Macaulay, poet, historian and politician, wrote extensively as an essayist and reviewer, though he died before completing his masterpiece, The History of England from the Accession of James the Second, which was published posthumously in 1861. In 1843 in an article entitled “The Diary and Letters of Mme. D'Arblay” published in the Edinburgh Review, Macaulay wrote that “Shakespeare has had neither equal or second. But among the writers who, in the point which we have noticed, have approached nearest to the manner of the great master, we have no hesitation in placing Jane Austen, a woman of whom England is justly proud. She has given us a multitude of characters, all in a certain sense, common place, all such as we meet every day. Yet they are all as perfectly discriminated from each other as if they were the most eccentric of human beings.”
Two other individuals—John Forster and G.H. Lewes—both praised Austen highly during this time period.
John Forster was the publishing industry’s first literary agent and a well-known and influential theatre and literary reviewer. In his 1872 biography of Dickens, Forster recalls discussing Nicholas Nickleby with Dickens when it was in draft form and he says, "I told him, on reading the first dialogue of Mrs. Nickleby and Miss Knag, that he had been lately reading Miss Bates in Emma, but I found that he had not at this time made the acquaintance of that fine writer."
Forster goes on to compare Dickens’ characterization with Austen’s: "This [characterization], which must always be a novelist's highest achievement, was the art carried to exquisite perfection on a more limited stage by Miss Austen…"
George Henry Lewes was also an influential Victorian reviewer and critic who wrote articles on a number of topics including philosophy, literature, and theatre. Lewes was a huge fan of Austen and wrote of her frequently, praising her technique and lamenting her lack of popularity. To give you a flavor of Lewes’s praise of Austen, in 1859, in an article entitled “The Novels of Jane Austen,” which was published in Blackwood’s Magazine, he says that “For nearly half a century England has possessed an artist of the highest rank, whose works have been extensively circulated, whose merits have been keenly relished, and whose name is still unfamiliar in men’s mouths….Miss Austen, indeed, has taken her revenge with posterity. She will doubtless be read as long as English novels find readers…[she] has generally but an indifferent story to tell, but her art of telling it is incomparable.”
Gaskell herself in Mr. Harrison’s Confessions in 1851 refers to Austen. Here, Mr. Harrison describes his new lodgings as his mentor, Mr. Morgan, helps him get settled:
Mr. Morgan took the house and delighted in advising and settling all my affairs. I was partly indolent, and partly amused, and was altogether passive. The house he took for me was near his own: it had two sitting-rooms downstairs…The back room was my consulting-room ("the library," he advised me to call it), and he gave me a skull to put on the top of my bookcase, in which the medical books were all ranged on the conspicuous shelves; while Miss Austen, Dickens and Thackeray were, by Mr. Morgan himself, skilfully placed in a careless way, upside down or with their backs turned to the wall.
So, the stage is set for our discussion of Austen’s influence on Elizabeth Gaskell, though we are now seeing a renaissance of her popularity after a decline into almost complete obscurity, was one of the leading Victorian novelists of her day. As I’ve discussed, Austen’s novels were being reissued starting in 1833 and were popular enough to stay in print indefinitely. Literary critics were occasionally singing her praises as a portrait painter and an effective teller of moral tales. Her somewhat self-deprecating remark about her art being confined to painting on bits of ivory with a small brush is taken at face value by these critics and she is appreciated as an artist within those limitations.
So let’s dive N&S, and then come back to a more general discussion of Gaskell. Unlike Austen’s novels, N&S is not a comedy, though it does follow the classic comedic tradition in that in ends with the marriage of the hero and heroine, but it has few if any funny scenes or characters. Unlike any of Austen’s works, it is very topical to its time and portrays all levels of society, from the desperately poor and oppressed factory workers in the north of England to London’s high society. Unlike Austen’s work, it drips pathos and is devoid of irony. In a nutshell, the heroine, Margaret Hale, moves with her parents from the south of England to the city of Milton, which was Gaskell’s name for Manchester in this novel. Her father has given up his living because he has developed doubts regarding the infallibility of the Church of England—this part is a bit complicated, and I’m not going to go into how it all worked—but suffice it to say that the Hales leave their beloved rural home to live in a manufacturing town where they are not only complete outsiders but have no understanding of the issues that keep the factory workers and the mill owners at each others’ throats. Mr. Hale now earns his living by teaching, and one of his students is mill owner, John Thornton, a self-made man, a master, and a self-described “hard” man known for his stubbornness, his ruthlessness in business, and his integrity. In addition to getting to know the Thorntons and other mill owners, Margaret also becomes friends with a family whose father, Nicholas Higgins, is a union man who is instrumental in organizing strikes against the mills. Through Margaret, Thornton and Higgins first come to know each other and then to understand each other. From that understand, they learn to work together to meet their common objectives.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Austen's Influence on Gaskell: N&S parallels to P&P
Posted by
JaneGS
Let me tell you about a love story between a woman and a man whose initial encounter was marred by prejudice, misunderstanding, and pride to such a degree that it was a very long road before they were able to finally come together in complete understanding and equality and shared passionate love.
When she first meets him, she is struck by his stern demeanor and although she acknowledges his power among men and his intelligence and good sense, she believes him to be a proud, disagreeable man and laughingly states that she could never consider him as a husband and mocks the idea that he would ever think of her as wife.
From his first meeting her, however, he is thrown off-guard by her openness—she looks directly at him, as if challenging him, and this is so provocative that he finds himself, in his own words, “bewitched” by her, though those in his immediate circle harbor a jealous dislike of her that they make no attempt to hide. The lady, however, is not only unconscious of the affect she has had on the man, but unwittingly reinforces his feelings by continuing to act in a very open, direct way with him, which causes him to believe that she is not only aware of his feelings but welcomes them.
Their relationship in the early stages of their acquaintance is characterized by verbal sparring, in which he says something that provokes her, and then he prods her to explain herself more fully, inevitably ending with them misunderstanding each other even more than when they began talking. In fact, the man accuses the lady of persisting in misunderstanding him.
This situation comes to a head when the man proposes to the lady. Unfortunately, the lady has recently heard information from a third party that prejudices her even further against the man, and she angrily refuses him and tells him that his proposal offends her. After he storms away, she realizes how deeply he must love her if he would ask her to marry him despite the certain objections of his nearest relations. She has vanity enough to be somewhat gratified that she has inspired such feelings in such a man but is not softened enough to perceive that she has any real affection for him. He is deeply hurt and frustrated by her refusal—he had found himself unusually tongue tied and inarticulate when he was expressing his feelings as he was overcome by the strength of his passion for her, and he is ashamed of having let her cause him to lose his temper.
The man then attempts to redeem himself by refuting her accusations of his character, and the lady comes to be thoroughly ashamed of having misjudged him so severely. This shame forces her to reevaluate how she has viewed him and treated him and this puts her on the road to liking and esteeming him. The man is further frustrated by his belief that she loves someone else, and though this jealousy torments him it also inspires him to try to rise above it and open his mind and heart in the ways that she accused him of being closed and hard. When he learns of a situation in which she would not only be greatly distressed but acutely embarrassed and even damaged in society, he quickly and quietly takes action to completely alleviate the situation, without expecting or even wanting her acknowledgement or thanks.
Finally, she initiates the conversation that enables him to convince her that his love for her is not only real and present but has deepened since the time of his proposal, and she is able to show him that she now loves him as well.
You all know that to be the basic outline of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, but it also happens to be the basic outline of Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South. Most who are familiar with P&P recognize many echoes of the older story in N&S—not only the evolution of the relationship between the principal couple (i.e., Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, and Margaret Hale and Mr. Thornton) as outlined above, but also in certain somewhat parallel characters (e.g., Lady Catherine and Mrs. Thornton; Caroline Bingley and Fanny Thornton) and technique (e.g., Marlborough Mills embodies and reflects the character of John Thornton in much the same way that Pemberley embodies and reflects that of Mr. Darcy both to the reader and to Margaret/Elizabeth). I’ll post more in a future blog on similarities in language as this one is getting longish.
All this said, I don’t want to suggest that in N&S Gaskell simply retold or reshaped P&P into her own setting and time--fanfic it is not. Margaret is not an Elizabeth, and Thornton is not a Darcy, though I believe the men are more similar as characters than Margaret is to Elizabeth, and while both authors deal with the notions of pride and prejudice extensively, they diverge significantly in other themes and tone. Nor do I want to suggest that the strong parallels in N&S to P&P are coincidence or evidence that Austen modeled her story on an earlier archetypal story that Gaskell is also tapping into.
I have a notion that Gaskell consciously used the story arc of P&P for N&S because she desperately wanted to produce a novel that was popular with the middle-class reading public and she looked to what was then and has remained one of the most popular English novels. Though she was proud of her work in Mary Barton and Ruth, she was clearly frustrated by the bitter criticism she received from a variety of reviewers and friends. I have a couple of ideas as to who might have helped her look to Austen for inspiration, but I'll save that for another blog when I've had time to do a bit more research.
When she first meets him, she is struck by his stern demeanor and although she acknowledges his power among men and his intelligence and good sense, she believes him to be a proud, disagreeable man and laughingly states that she could never consider him as a husband and mocks the idea that he would ever think of her as wife.
From his first meeting her, however, he is thrown off-guard by her openness—she looks directly at him, as if challenging him, and this is so provocative that he finds himself, in his own words, “bewitched” by her, though those in his immediate circle harbor a jealous dislike of her that they make no attempt to hide. The lady, however, is not only unconscious of the affect she has had on the man, but unwittingly reinforces his feelings by continuing to act in a very open, direct way with him, which causes him to believe that she is not only aware of his feelings but welcomes them.
Their relationship in the early stages of their acquaintance is characterized by verbal sparring, in which he says something that provokes her, and then he prods her to explain herself more fully, inevitably ending with them misunderstanding each other even more than when they began talking. In fact, the man accuses the lady of persisting in misunderstanding him.
This situation comes to a head when the man proposes to the lady. Unfortunately, the lady has recently heard information from a third party that prejudices her even further against the man, and she angrily refuses him and tells him that his proposal offends her. After he storms away, she realizes how deeply he must love her if he would ask her to marry him despite the certain objections of his nearest relations. She has vanity enough to be somewhat gratified that she has inspired such feelings in such a man but is not softened enough to perceive that she has any real affection for him. He is deeply hurt and frustrated by her refusal—he had found himself unusually tongue tied and inarticulate when he was expressing his feelings as he was overcome by the strength of his passion for her, and he is ashamed of having let her cause him to lose his temper.
The man then attempts to redeem himself by refuting her accusations of his character, and the lady comes to be thoroughly ashamed of having misjudged him so severely. This shame forces her to reevaluate how she has viewed him and treated him and this puts her on the road to liking and esteeming him. The man is further frustrated by his belief that she loves someone else, and though this jealousy torments him it also inspires him to try to rise above it and open his mind and heart in the ways that she accused him of being closed and hard. When he learns of a situation in which she would not only be greatly distressed but acutely embarrassed and even damaged in society, he quickly and quietly takes action to completely alleviate the situation, without expecting or even wanting her acknowledgement or thanks.
Finally, she initiates the conversation that enables him to convince her that his love for her is not only real and present but has deepened since the time of his proposal, and she is able to show him that she now loves him as well.
You all know that to be the basic outline of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, but it also happens to be the basic outline of Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South. Most who are familiar with P&P recognize many echoes of the older story in N&S—not only the evolution of the relationship between the principal couple (i.e., Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, and Margaret Hale and Mr. Thornton) as outlined above, but also in certain somewhat parallel characters (e.g., Lady Catherine and Mrs. Thornton; Caroline Bingley and Fanny Thornton) and technique (e.g., Marlborough Mills embodies and reflects the character of John Thornton in much the same way that Pemberley embodies and reflects that of Mr. Darcy both to the reader and to Margaret/Elizabeth). I’ll post more in a future blog on similarities in language as this one is getting longish.
All this said, I don’t want to suggest that in N&S Gaskell simply retold or reshaped P&P into her own setting and time--fanfic it is not. Margaret is not an Elizabeth, and Thornton is not a Darcy, though I believe the men are more similar as characters than Margaret is to Elizabeth, and while both authors deal with the notions of pride and prejudice extensively, they diverge significantly in other themes and tone. Nor do I want to suggest that the strong parallels in N&S to P&P are coincidence or evidence that Austen modeled her story on an earlier archetypal story that Gaskell is also tapping into.
I have a notion that Gaskell consciously used the story arc of P&P for N&S because she desperately wanted to produce a novel that was popular with the middle-class reading public and she looked to what was then and has remained one of the most popular English novels. Though she was proud of her work in Mary Barton and Ruth, she was clearly frustrated by the bitter criticism she received from a variety of reviewers and friends. I have a couple of ideas as to who might have helped her look to Austen for inspiration, but I'll save that for another blog when I've had time to do a bit more research.
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