Catherine Hemingway's Blog, page 3

Jane Austen’s Fathers

What would a father in a patriarchal society spanning both Georgian and Regency periods think of a daughter whose core ambition was to become an author and whose primary activities from childhood demonstrated both her talent and commitment? Mr. George Austen was a well-educated clergyman whose income at Steventon Rectory relied primarily on the collection of tithes and running a residential boarding school for young men. In this environment he raised his eight children, six boys and two girls, who benefited from access to an extensive library and whose creativity was encouraged by such family amusements as organizing theatrical productions at home and sharing of their writing skills as family entertainment in the evenings. In this atmosphere Jane Austen’s creative pursuits were encouraged from a young age and were further enhanced by Mr. Austen’s own “slightly unconventional love of novels” according to historian, Lucy Worsley, in her wonderful biography Jane Austen at Home.

He clearly was supportive of her writing efforts; the three notebooks she completed in her early years were “gifts from Jane’s father, and the expensive paper was not inconsiderable evidence of his encouragement.” We may be sure he took pride in her work as well. He wrote a glowing review of the notebook entitled Volume the Third: ‘Effusions of Fancy by a very Young Lady consisting of Tales in a Style entirely new’. His insight is evident today, for Austen’s novels were entirely new when published and still captivate her readers two centuries later. Lucy Worsley, in describing his parental influence on all his children, mentions one very essential ingredient. “Mr. Austen was a careful, considerate father, giving most of his children the priceless gift of confidence.”

Unlike the adversarial relationship with her mother, it appears Jane Austen enjoyed a supportive and nurturing relationship with her father, but is this attitude reflected in the characters of the fathers she creates in her novels? All of them are portrayed with quirks of one kind or another but all, save one, appear to be loving figures.

Bill Nighy as Mr. Woodhouse, Emma 2020

Pride and Prejudice

I often see social media comments scolding Mr. Bennet for being a permissive, withdrawn, and irresponsible father who did not plan or save for his five daughters’ dowries knowing that his estate was entailed. Unlike his wife, he seems to have a lackadaisical attitude towards finding suitable husbands for them and to even have made a poor match for himself based on how Jane describes the marriage. “Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humor, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three and twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character.”

Despite his shortcomings, however, there appears to be a warm and loving relationship between him and his daughter, Lizzy. One can surmise that of all five daughters, she was his favorite and he only wanted the best for her. He could not bear to see her marry someone she could not love or respect, be it the unctuous Mr. Collins or Mr. Darcy, the “proud and unpleasant sort of man” that Mr. Bennet considered him to be. After protesting to her father her love for Darcy and admiration of his character he replied, “I could not part with you, my Lizzy, to any one less worthy.”

Northanger Abbey

Catherine Moreland was one of ten children on the cusp of womanhood, enamored with novels, and in need of adventure when she was allowed by her two well-matched and loving parents to visit Bath with wealthy neighbors. While her expectations ran high, her sensible parents kept her in check. “Her father, instead of giving her an unlimited order on his banker, or even putting a hundred pounds bank bill into her hands, gave her only ten guineas, and promised her more when she wanted it.” When she returned unescorted from Northanger Abbey by post, and appeared listless and depressed, both of her parents were concerned. Then Henry Tilney re-entered the picture and proposed, but her father insisted they could not sanction the engagement without the approval of General Tilney which was eventually secured. Catherine Moreland benefited greatly from having of two loving and sensible parents who had her interests at heart and supported her through difficult times.

Emma

As “the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate, indulgent father,” Emma had every reason to enjoy the fact that she was “handsome, clever, and rich.” Although she lost her mother at the age of five, she managed to grow up confident and self-assured under the tutelage of a governess turned friend and a father in whose eyes she could do no wrong. With no one to regulate her besides, on occasion, Mr. Knightly, she was headstrong and willful yet always committed to doing good for others, even when her efforts were sometimes misguided. Her father had an amiable temper, but his hypochondria kept him preoccupied not only with his own wellbeing but that of all those with whom he came in contact. His phobias left him little time to oversee his daughter’s development and she, in turn, became more of a caretaker of him than he was of her. Nevertheless, he was a loving and well-meaning father who could only see the good in his daughter. While this portrayal of fatherly love has its shortcomings, it was genuine and his approbation for his daughter was sincere.

Sense and Sensibility

Mr. Henry Dashwood was the inadvertent casualty of an inheritance from his uncle, whose will “destroyed half the value of the bequest.” While he, his wife, and three daughters had cared for the old man over many years, his son from a former marriage, Mr. John Dashwood, inherited the entirety of the estate. To his son he “recommended, with all the strength and urgency which illness could command, the interest of his second wife and three daughters who most needed a provision.” His hopes of relying on his son’s generosity were overly optimistic and, in the end, the widow and her daughters were forced to move to the small cottage of a relative on their meager inheritance of ten thousand pounds. Mr. Dashwood leaves the picture early in the story but clearly, he loved his wife and daughters and wanted the best for them. The depth of their mourning indicates the extent of their attachment and love for him. If he was guilty of anything it was presuming his uncle would be more directly generous in the will because of the service which his family had provided and when that didn’t transpire, there was very little he could do to influence his son from his deathbed.

Persuasion

One of the least admirable of the fathers is Sir Walter Elliot in whom we encounter such a level of self-absorption, conceit, and arrogance that it is impossible to fathom a worse role model for three young daughters who lost their mother. Jane opens by setting the stage for this character when she states, “Vanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Walter Elliot’s character, vanity of person and of situation. He was remarkably handsome in his youth; and, at fifty-four, was still a fine man.” His partiality for his eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was demonstrated when she was elevated with “all her mother’s rights and consequence” at the age of sixteen, thanks to the fact that she was “very handsome and very like himself”, that is, equally vain and haughty. Such favoritism led to the marginalization of his middle daughter, Anne, and youngest daughter, Mary, although she managed to redeem herself by making an acceptable marriage in a respectable family of large fortune. Anne’s potential engagement to Captain Wentworth at age nineteen was hindered by her father who considered it a “degrading alliance” since the young main had neither wealth nor consequence. She became almost invisible to her father until the age of twenty-seven, when the family relocated to Bath. There Anne became the object of romantic interest to the heir of Sir Walter’s estate, Mr. William Elliot, who had always considered Elizabeth to be excessively vain. By then Captain Wentworth had achieved wealth and rank, reentered her life, and finally declared his love. Captain Wentworth “was now esteemed quite worthy to address the daughter of a foolish, spendthrift baronet, who had not principle or sense enough to maintain himself in the situation in which Providence had placed him.” Clearly Jane Austen had no admiration for this father, but he did make an excellent foil for our heroine who had to overcome self-doubt and adversity to eventually find true love.

Mansfield Park

Once again, we encounter the impact of an imprudent marriage when Fanny Price’s mother chose a Lieutenant of Marines, without education, fortune, or connections, who became “disabled for active service, but not the less equal to company and good liquor, and a very small income to supply their wants.” After producing multiple children, his wife was forced to repair relationships with her sisters and “regain the friends she had so carelessly sacrificed,” resulting in nine-year-old Fanny being sent to live with Sir Thomas Bertram and his family at Mansfield Park. While she received little by way of nurturing from the family, except from her cousin, Edmund, she did live in a stable environment and was dismayed upon returning home as a young adult to find little to admire in either of her parents. She had been raised in a gentile environment and, upon greeting her father who appeared coarse, and common, she was “sadly pained by his language and his smell of spirits.” While Sir Thomas may not have been warm or nurturing towards her over the years and even sent her away for refusing to obey his demand to accept the proposal of Henry Crawford, he was a much better role model for Fanny and enriched her life in ways her father never could. The outcome of her life would have been entirely different had she never been sent away from home to live at Mansfield Park.

Jane Austen wrote about the concerns and risks of being a single woman in her novels and they played out predictably in her own life. At the age of seventy, Mr. Austen abruptly decided to retire feeling he could no longer “discharge his Parochial duties” due to advancing age and chose to move to Bath. Life after Steventon was very stressful for Jane; leaving behind friends, beloved possessions, and her home of twenty-five years was difficult, and became even more so after her father’s death a few years later, which led to financial uncertainty for herself, her mother, and her sister. The loss added further strain to the relationship with her mother, but I believe the bond between father and daughter endured because of his love and support throughout her youth. He recognized her gifts, supported her writing efforts, and took pride in her accomplishments.

There are traces of Jane’s father in her novels. I often think he was a bit like Mr. Bennet and not overly concerned about finding her a suitable match so she would not be a “burden” to the family, nor did he expect her to marry without love to provide future support for her family as when Mr. Biggs-Wither proposed to Jane. My impression is that he never considered her to be a burden, but perhaps he was also a bit like Mr. Dashwood and did not imagine himself dying so early, leaving his wife and daughters to rely on a rotation of visits to family and inexpensive lodgings for so many years until they finally settled at the cottage in Chawton. It was there that Jane Austen was finally able to refocus on her true passion and complete the beloved novels that we all treasure to this day. For that we can all be grateful to her father.

Jane Austen’s Mothers

I know I’m not alone in wondering about the relationship between Jane Austen and her mother. As evidenced by the mother figures depicted in her novels, it begs the question of whether they were close or had more of a distant relationship. We know her writings reflect the patriarchal society in which she lived with pressure exerted on women to marry and not be a financial burden on their families. Was Jane viewed as a burden by her mother after the death of her father? Was her creativity embraced and encouraged? Was her decision not to marry accepted because of her exceptional talents? Will examining how she portrays mothers in her novels provide any insights?

Allison Steadman, Mrs. Bennet, Pride and Prejudice 1995

Northanger Abbey

I believe that Mrs. Morland was the best of all the mothers portrayed. She is described as a “woman of useful, plain sense, with a good temper and what is more remarkable a good constitution”, for having given birth to 10 children. Nevertheless, she “was a very good woman and wished to see her children everything they ought to be.” When it was decided to allow Catherine to visit Bath in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Allen, her advice to her daughter contained “no warnings or advice beyond “I beg, Catherine, you will always wrap yourself up very warm about the throat, when you come from the Rooms at night; and I wish you would try to keep some account of the money you spend.”

Mrs. Moreland’s sympathies were aroused on her daughter’s return from Northanger Abbey, when she observed “her loss of spirits was a yet greater alteration” and expressed concern that Catherine “was getting out of humour with home because it is not so grand as Northanger,” and recommended she read an essay on “much such a subject about young girls that have been spoilt for home by great acquaintance…”

As a mother, Mrs. Moreland demonstrated both “sense and sensibility” concerning her daughter and even though her prospects were limited, Catherine Moreland eventually made a fine match with Henry Tilney despite initial objections by his father. The empathy and guidance of her mother contributed to the success of our heroine’s pursuit of a happy and fulfilling life.

Sense and Sensibility

Jane Austen reveals herself to be an adroit judge of character and her description of the recently widowed Mrs. Dashwood is less than flattering. She introduces us to this mother by describing an “eagerness of mind in Mrs. Dashwood which must generally have led to imprudence.” She was an emotional woman who had yet to learn how to govern her own strong feelings and there was a striking resemblance between Marianne and her mother; they were everything but prudent. “They encouraged each other now in the violence of their affliction” when Mr. Dashwood died and embraced their sorrow while “resolved against ever admitting consolation in the future.” Once removed to Barton Cottage, Mrs. Dashwood indulged her daughter, Marianne, in an emotional attachment to a recent acquaintance, John Willoughby, which included allowing Marianne to cavort unchaperoned with the gentleman, and then assumed rather than clarifying that an engagement had taken place between the two. Both Elinor and her mother bore witness to the histrionics of a brokenhearted Marianne, but it was her older sister who attempted to bring restraint and calm to the situation.

By all appearances, Jane Austen had little sympathy for emotional indulgence as displayed by Mrs. Dashwood and her younger daughter, and far more admiration for the patience and forbearance demonstrated by her eldest daughter.

Pride and Prejudice

Jane Austen introduces us to Mrs. Bennet as … “a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and news.” This rather harsh condemnation also provides us a vivid character; one with whom we can sympathize while still judging her behavior harshly. She is a wonderful foil for her droll, sarcastic, and preoccupied husband, whom she is quick to scold, “You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves.” She is also a dreadful model of deportment for her daughters, the youngest of whom she indulges with little restraint. There is much to dislike about Mrs. Bennet, but we are forced to commiserate with her as well. With her husband’s estate entailed, her life’s work of getting her daughters married has a sense of urgency that is understandable considering the “burden” they would all become on a male relative, in the event of her husband’s death. We are caught in the power struggle between daughters who hope to marry for love and affection, and a mother who wishes above all to establish stability and a secure future. She would happily marry off Elizabeth to the loathsome Mr. Collins if it were in her power, despite the lack of support from her husband. Establishing a secure future for her family overrides any other considerations.

I often consider what Mrs. Austen’s reaction must have been when she learned of the aborted engagement of Jane to Harris Bigg-Wither. Since Jane and Cassandra were close friends with his sisters, what greater felicity could there have been than a union of the two families and Jane established as the future mistress of Manydown Park? How heavily it must have weighed on Jane to accept his proposal one day and reject it the next since her rejection had implications for the future for her father, mother, and sister. Facing her mother with news of her decision must have been exceedingly difficult for her to convey and her mother to accept. Perhaps her mother never did. “Single women,” Jane wrote, “have a dreadful propensity for being poor – which is one very strong argument in favour of Matrimony." Her writing must have been small consolation to her mother once her father had passed and steady impoverishment ensued. One does not get the impression that her mother would have embraced her choices.

Mansfield Park

Fanny Price was the beneficiary of a propitious marriage by her aunt to Sir Thomas Bertram who later took her under their care at the age of nine years. Her own mother, “Miss Frances married, in the common phrase, to disoblige her family, and by fixing on a Lieutenant of Marines, without education, fortune, or connections, did it very thoroughly.”

That marriage caused a family breach “such as a very imprudent marriage almost always produces.” After a ninth lying-in, Mrs. Price became “eager to regain the friends she had so carelessly sacrificed” and was thereby “relieved from the charge and expense of one child entirely out of her great number.”

When young Fanny returns to the family fold after rejecting the proposal of Henry Crawford, a wealthy young man whose character she mistrusts, she finds her reception less than welcoming. Like Catherine Moreland she finds her home “not so grand” as Mansfield Park but in this case her mother is a disappointment, “having neither leisure nor affection to bestow on Fanny” and running a household of “noise, disorder, and impropriety.” Here it seems is a prime example of an imprudent marriage as it plays out in real world impoverishment and emotional abandonment, when compared to Mrs. Moreland, who still managed to be emotionally available and sympathetic to her daughter despite having borne many children herself.

One can’t help but admire Fanny’s steadfastness in relying on her own instincts regarding the trustworthiness of Henry Crawford when he pursues her to Portsmouth in hopes of convincing her to accept his proposal. Like Jane Austen’s short-lived engagement, Fanny accepts Henry one day and rejects him the next, despite the risk of sealing her fate by further offending her adoptive family, who sent her home because of her original rejection of Henry.

Supportive motherly love was not part of the equation in Fanny’s life however, there is another motherly figure with a role in the story, Lady Bertram. She made the propitious marriage and had “a temper remarkably easy and indolent”, whose primary concern was whether nine-year-old Fanny would “tease her pug.” Over the years Lady Bertram came to depend on Fanny and one imagines some level of tenderness was rendered towards the young girl for in the end, it was Lady Bertram who required Fanny’s return. While not a great role model, Lady Bertram at least seems kind even though she is very self-absorbed.

Emma

Emma’s mother had two daughters and passed away when Emma was five years old. The absence of a motherly figure is replaced by a nurturing relationship with Miss Taylor who was less a governess than a friend and they shared the intimacy of sisters. With no one to regulate Emma or impose any restraint, no real shadow of authority, Emma is left to her own devices and small conceits unhindered. Perhaps being motherless was essential to the story Jane wished to tell. She was aware that many might not like this heroine, but she must have enjoyed writing about such a young woman, independent and confident, not restrained by financial concerns nor required to marry. What freedom there must have been conjuring this young woman of means, who was both loving and willful. Was this the vicarious life Jane would have chosen for herself so she could write to her heart’s content?

Persuasion

Now we come to another motherless heroine, Anne Elliot. Her mother made an imprudent choice by marrying an impossibly vain man, Sir Walter Elliot. “Lady Elliot had been an excellent woman, sensible and amiable; whose judgment and conduct, they might be pardoned the youthful infatuation which made her Lady Elliot … and though not the very happiest being in the world herself, had found enough in her duties, her friends, and her children, to attach her to life…” Anne’s mother who passed away when she was fourteen relied on a dear friend, Lady Russell, to help maintain the good principles and instruction that she wanted imparted to her daughters. Lady Russell, who was a “sensible, deserving woman” was brought by “strong attachment” to Mrs. Elliot to settle close by her,” and resided near the family estate, Kellynch Hall at Kellynch Lodge. Anne was beloved by Lady Russell for her “sweetness of character” and “elegance of mind” so much like that of her mother’s.

Lady Russell’s interference in Anne’s early relationship with Captain Wentworth at the age of nineteen supported the objections of Sir Walter to the young naval officer; he considered the suitor beneath his daughter’s rank and Lady Russell considered Anne too young for an engagement since Wentworth’s career was not yet established. Anne trusted her judgement at the cost of a broken heart. Would Anne’s mother have offered the same advice had she lived? Perhaps, but in the end, it doesn’t matter because the story required Anne to suffer the loss so we could all have the privilege of reading the letter from Wentworth, who, with hopes of reconciliation, writes the most romantic love letter of all time… “You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.”

Lady Susan

At long last we get to the world’s worst mother ever, Lady Susan. How Jane conjured this cruel creature is hard to conceive. Every dealing with her daughter was calculated and self-serving, including trying to force an engagement to a contemptible and wealthy older man. There are no redeeming qualities in this woman. She is manipulative, greedy, and duplicitous, the ultimate malignant narcissist. I wonder whether Jane enjoyed writing this character who lacked any evidence of maternal love or nurturing.

So, how do the mothers Jane Austen created in her novels reflect her relationship with her own mother? Certainly, some themes emerge such as emotional maturity, emotional availability, imprudence, and narcissism. Mrs. Moreland appears to have been emotionally aware and available, and perhaps so was Lady Elliot, who was concerned about the values her daughters would be taught after her demise. Imprudent marriages play a part. Consider Lady Elliot who realized she’d married a very vain and foolish man, or Frances Price who spurned her family by making a poor choice of husband. Emotional maturity was a missing ingredient in Mrs. Dashwood who indulged her daughter, Marianne, and allowed her to run wild. Mrs. Bennet lacked emotional maturity with her self-serving histrionics and hypochondriac behavior, which was suspiciously narcissistic. Whatever you think of her, you can’t deny she had legitimate concerns driving the singular focus of her life. For me, she may be the closest in temperament to Jane Austen’s mother.

In Lucy Worsley’s biography Jane Austen at Home, she describes Mrs. Cassandra Austen as having a “lifetime of ailments, and possible hypochondria which would alternately amuse and exasperate her family.” Understandable considering that she gave birth to three children in four years which would fatigue any woman, especially a delicate one not in strong health. According to Worsley, Mrs. Austen was ‘frail and aristocratic”, a member of an “old, prosperous, rambling family, the Leighs of Warwickshire” whose father was an Oxfordshire rector. Considered to be “a gifted writer” with an excellent sense of humor herself, she must have taken some pride in her daughter’s accomplishments, but as a widow she must have been plagued by the stress of financial uncertainty, unmarried daughters, and reliance upon the support of her sons to survive as they moved from place to place until finally settling at Chawton cottage.

For young women of that time, the pressure to marry was relentless, and while Mrs. Austen would certainly have appreciated her daughter’s writing talents which provided amusement to the family and were eventually published, she would have been relentlessly focused on finding matches for her daughters. Jane had no income whatever, unlike Cassandra who received a small inheritance from her deceased fiance’. The broken Biggs-Wither engagement must have been devastating to Mrs. Austen.

Modern day readers remain grateful that Jane didn’t marry as it might have diverted her from completing her novels. From the perspective of her mother, the insecurity and stress of moving from place to place dependent on the kindness of family and friends, and stipends from her sons, must have been a heavy burden. We, the readers, are the true beneficiaries of the sacrifices made by mother and daughter because Jane’s characters, whom she described as “her children”, live on with us to this day.

We are all a product of our parenting, a product of our times and the values they instill; a product of our own invention, the person we choose to be, strive to be, and so it was true of Jane Austen and her mother. They dealt with the values and pressures of a patriarchal society under which they had little control. They influenced each other, supported each other, loved each other, and probably drove each other a little crazy.

Guilty of Duplicity

I’m intrigued by the development of Jane Austen as a writer and how she came to conjure the rogues, scoundrels, and guileful creatures that populate her novels. Did she base those characters on personal experience, local gossip, characters in books, or purely from her imagination?

PHOTOGRAPH BY BERNARD WALSH / AMAZON STUDIOS / ROADSIDE ATTRACTIONS

To be sure, every good story requires heroes and heroines to overcome obstacles which can include lies, treachery, betrayal, duplicity, or any manner of mistreatment that challenge their course to finding true happiness. Jane Austen populates her novels with characters who are often both attractive and duplicitous. As evidence let’s examine each of her six novels and even throw in the epistolary Lady Susan for good measure.

Mansfield Park introduces us to brother and sister Henry and Mary Crawford. One could consider them merely charming and attractive at the outset of the novel, but Henry’s open flirtation with Maria Bertram early in the novel, followed by his unwelcomed pursuit of innocent Fanny, and finally the reputation destroying affair with Maria, now Mrs. Rushworth, revealed the character flaws that Fanny had recognized all along. The man was not to be trusted.

For her part, Mary Crawford had a rather more modern view of social mores in her assessment of the world, the lifestyle she hoped to attain, and her willingness to overlook the foibles of her brother. She admired Edmund but was reluctant to live the quiet life of a clergyman’s wife and hoped to guide him towards choosing a more sophisticated lifestyle. She would remake the man if she could, to fit into the society she admired and, if only his older brother would succumb to an illness, all would be well for Mary. Fanny recognized this from the start and mistrusted the influence Mary appeared to have over Edmund, as well as her attempted manipulation of Fanny. I don’t include Mrs. Norris because her disabuse of Fanny was completely up front and unfiltered; she never hid her feelings or pretended otherwise.

John Willoughby and Lucy Steele are the standouts in Sense and Sensibility for duplicity although Willoughby’s faults were far more egregious than those of the young lady. He knew he had seduced and abandoned one young girl when he turned his attentions and appeared to actively court Marianne Dashwood before his aunt interceded and sent him back to London, leaving Marianne with a wounded heart. He went on to break her heart completely when he chose to get engaged to a wealthy heiress and returned all her letters and a lock of hair.

I’ve always viewed Lucy Steele as a manipulative social climber who took advantage of an immature Edward Ferrars by entering a secret engagement with him when he was a young student of her uncle’s. When she and her sister arrive at Barton Park, she immediately ingratiates herself to Lady Middleton by fawning over the children and then draws Elinor into a conspiracy to keep secret her engagement to Edward. This intrigue was surely based on the knowledge that Elinor and Edward were already acquainted and Lucy wished to quash any hopes Elinor might have had about the prospect of a relationship. Even her eventual conquest of Robert Ferrars was based on manipulation, once he was named heir after his brother was disowned. Edward meant to honor that early secret engagement despite his feelings for Elinor. Lucy is consistently self-serving and disingenuous; her marriage to Robert was a personal triumph of subtle yet unrelenting maneuvering.

Some might ask why Mrs. John Dashwood didn’t make this list, but I believed she was very transparent about her feelings towards her husband’s stepmother and half-sisters. She concealed nothing of her ambition and greed, while Edward Ferrars must be forgiven for his youthful indiscretion and always honorable intentions.

Persuasion introduces us to Mr. William Elliot and Mrs. Clay, two of my favorites for duplicitous behavior. Clever Mrs. Clay makes an art of pleasing and there are no bounds to her efforts at flattery which perfectly suits the vain Sir Walter Elliot and his equally vain oldest daughter, Elizabeth. She insinuates her way into the lives of people far above her station with designs on cementing a more permanent connection. The intelligence from a friend in Bath about the presence of Mrs. Clay compels Mr. Elliot to make his way there to observe the situation and he ingratiates himself once again into the graces of Sir Walter, as the heir-apparent to the estate. He is attentive to the possibility that a liaison between Mrs. Clay and Sir Walter could produce a new heir and interfere with the prospects for his inheritance. He wasn’t so sure a protruding tooth, freckles, and a clumsy wrist would deter a potential match between a scheming woman and a vain man. For his part, Mr. Elliot plays both sides in his effort to win over Anne and cement his legacy through a potential marriage, while he also diverts Mrs. Clay both by spying on her behavior in Bath and later taking her under his protection in London. Either way he made sure to protect his self-interests and inheritance.

The duplicitous characters in Emma are of a far more innocent nature. Frank Churchill’s secret engagement to Jane Fairfax creates an undercurrent of intrigue in the novel to keep us guessing about his intentions but while it is deceitful to both his adoptive family and the inhabitants of Highbury, there was no great harm done to anyone and a happy ending was had by all. Who can blame Jane Fairfax for falling in love with Frank and hoping to escape a life of employment as a governess? None of the characters in the story would wish to change the outcome.

There is only one true villain in Northanger Abbey although it could be argued that General Tilney wasn’t necessarily duplicitous by nature, but merely a bad-tempered man who was angry at his own mistake in assuming that Catherine Moreland had wealth and connections and felt compelled to abruptly extricate her from his family domicile after an extended stay. He had deceived himself at Catherine’s expense, although, in the end, she does get her heart’s desire, her beloved Henry Tilney.

Of all Jane Austen’s villainous characters, George Wickham in Pride and Prejudice is a true standout. Early on he convincingly lies about his extended relationship with Mr. Darcy when he is first introduced to Elizabeth Bennet, thereby cementing her already established distain for a person she considers to be proud and arrogant. His failed effort to seduce Darcy’s young and innocent sister, Georgianna, is followed by the successful seduction of Elizabeth’s youngest sister, Lydia. That Wickham is eventually prevailed upon by Darcy to marry her is indicative of his dissolute values as he had to be paid handsomely by Darcy who engineered the match, saved the Bennet family name, expedited the engagement of Bingley to Jane, and won the hand of Elizabeth. Wickham’s pretenses throughout the novel place him at the top of the list for duplicity.

There is only one character to surpass him for unremitting subterfuge, deceit, and duplicity, Lady Susan. I remember being shocked and horrified by her unrelenting selfishness and scheming the first time I read the story. Her lack of even the slightest modicum of motherly love I found unfathomable. Who could conceive such a creature? The only person with whom she was completely honest was her dear friend, Mrs. Alicia Johnson. Everyone else in her purview were pawns to be played to her advantage.

Jane Austen conceived them all and I wonder at the imagination that envisioned them and gave them voice. Surely, they suited the needs of her stories but was there any personal experience that created a core persona upon which to build? Seduced and abandoned young ladies are an age-old story and gossip exists in every era to spread the news. Selfish, self-absorbed, conniving people can be identified in any society and Jane witnessed life in a variety of social circles. Yet I wrestle with the question of whether she simply imaginatively conjured them or based her characters on people and situations she knew and then revealed portions of those personalities in her novels. To be sure we’ll never know but it’s very diverting to consider.

I also find myself questioning my own underlying inclinations when writing about Jane Austen’s characters in my fan fiction efforts. When I wrote The Matchmaker of Pemberley, An Amorous Sequel to All Jane Austen’s Novels, I found it far more entertaining and significantly easier to write dialog for the miscreants in my novel than it was to find words for pretentious creatures like pious Mary Bennet who proselytized her views and elevated her talents far more than she deserved. Did Jane relish writing about the wicked side of her characters more than the good-natured ones or simply need them as plot devices? We do know from her letters that she could be cruel and even cutting and she was certainly known to have a wicked sense of humor. I often wonder if so many of her letters were destroyed because they revealed a little too much of that acerbic side that her relations wished to remain hidden. We all have a good angel and a bad angel on our shoulders, but they preferred us to perceive Jane as the good angel when in reality she was a little of both.

Character Assassination by Famous Authors

I was both delighted and dismayed to see the news that the late, great author, Hilary Mantel, was working on a mash-up of Jane Austen’s novels at the time of her death at age 70 in September of 2022. The author of the Wolf Hall trilogy reached such heights of acclaim that her novels were turned into an award-winning PBS series. I devoured those three books and even developed a rather strange and inexplicable crush on Thomas Cromwell.

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The premise of Mantel’s new novel was to be a satirical take on Austen’s works in which characters from the six novels make “appearances in unfamiliar guises” according to Lisa Allardice, writing for The Guardian (4/22/2023).

The title of the novel, “Provocation”, is an indication of the direction Mantel’s satire would take. The protagonist was to be the overlooked and much-maligned Mary Bennet while Darcy would be portrayed as something of dimwit afflicted with “a solid, sterling stupidity, such as an English gentleman alone dares display” as described in one of the paragraphs written by Mantel that was recently released by her husband, Gerald McEwan.

Mary’s early observation of the newly married Darcy’s was “that it would be Elizabeth’s lifetime work to collaborate with his innocent self-conceit. It is what she will give, in return for being mistress of Pemberley.”

And therein bursts the proverbial bubble for all the romantics and committed acolytes of our beloved Jane Austen. This Darcy is the strong, silent type because he’s rather stupid and dear Lizzy, witty and observant of the many foibles of Regency society, has chosen a match that requires her to put up with her husband’s limitations in exchange for wealth and security. So much for romance.

Oh dear!

Mantel is not the only famous writer to pick Mary as her heroine. Renowned and prolific author, Colleen McCullough, wrote The Independence of Miss Mary Bennet in which both the Darcy’s and the Bingley’s marriages fall short of “happily ever after” in the very early chapters. As a huge fan of McCullough’s novels of which I’ve read many, I was extraordinarily disappointed, and it’s the only one of her novels that I chose not to complete.

My question is this. Why do authors choose to denigrate characters we have come to know and love so they can raise the prospects of their chosen unsung heroine around whom they wish to build a new storyline? Why create unhappily ever after scenarios so someone else can achieve a measure of happiness?

I remember being rather horrified when I began reading McCullough’s version of Mary Bennet because, like Hilary Mantel, I had begun work on a novel that brought together characters from all six Austen novels in 2020. Rather than the “unfamiliar guises” Mantel planned to use in her satire, my characters were all true to their origins in Austen’s novels. I wanted the happily every after. I wanted to add to the felicity of the main characters along with less developed characters, including Mary Bennet. I didn’t want to change anyone but to enhance those who were overlooked and whose futures were left hanging. I had to stop reading McCullough’s novel because her characterizations ran so utterly contrary to my own imaginings that it caused distress to my own creative process.

I don’t wish to give the appearance that my focus is only on happy unions. In fact, I took great pleasure in writing about rather despicable people, those you love to hate. I was eager to further the story for Persuasion’s deeply flawed, arrogant, and conceited Elizabeth Elliot who was still unmarried at the end of the novel. I found a match entirely to her liking and inflated sense of self, although the groom’s family may have regrets about the union. Writing in her voice was wickedly gratifying especially in comparison to writing for prim, self-important Mary Bennet spouting prosaic platitudes, which I found far more challenging. Nevertheless, I still managed to find a marriage partner perfectly suited to her without changing her essential character or self-perception.

Rather than disparaging undeveloped characters such as Georgianna Darcy as Mantel did in an opening paragraph that described Mary’s point of view when she notes “Elizabeth took her new sister’s silence as profundity, but I myself saw that, compared to Georgianna, my sister was Socrates.” In other words, she is as dimwitted as her esteemed brother. My version of Georgianna divulges unique interests hiding behind her shy exterior that are allowed to develop. After all, education for young ladies and expectations of their roles in society could be very confining unless they were introduced to new information and means of expression. Hint: There is a strong element of feminism in my novel, The Matchmaker of Pemberley, An Amorous Sequel to All Jane Austen’s Novels.

Which brings me to the point of using denigration as a means of raising the prospects for a particular character such as Mary Bennet. It saddens me that it is used as a first line tactic by authors I admire, rather than finding ways to develop characters not at the expense of others whether they’re men or women. Why not do more to demonstrate solidarity for the beloved icons of Jane Austen’s imagination, both the best and the worst of them? Even if you want to snipe at the role of men in her society, you don’t have to take aim by turning them into dolts such as describing Darcy as a man who “has power to perceive what is hidden from us, because he is a man, and a gentleman and has a park that is ten miles round.” Surely some Regency men had redeeming qualities even if you are writing a satire.

I wanted to pay homage to Austen’s characters without changing them. Willoughby is still Willoughby, a charming character not to be trusted. Vanity still reigns unchecked in some, avarice in others. Some have developed in splendid ways to showcase their talents and passions. New friendships form that you hope will flourish. Future engagements and weddings are on the horizon. None of this is at the cost of character assassination on the part of the author.

Jane Austen’s legacy is to leave us hopeful about the future of the world she created for her “children” which is how she viewed her novels, as her children. I can’t help but feel it would sadden her to think that future stories about these children require them to step on the backs of each other to get ahead in the world or to be acknowledged. She focuses on the importance of good character, adherence to values, and overcoming adversity to find happiness even if you are sometimes your own worst judge of character as was the case with Emma. I hope other authors will join me in trying to carry on this heritage when creating stories around Austen’s beloved children. We owe it to her. While she admired acidic wit and demonstrated it amply herself, she also believed in love and redemption.

Many thanks to Lisa Allardice for her excellent content, “Hilary Mantel’s last novel was to have been an Austen mash-up: read an exclusive extract starring Mr. Darcy” in The Guardian (4/22/2023) which triggered this response.

No offense intended to the brilliant and recently deceased authors, Hilary Mantel and Colleen McCullough for whom I have enormous reverence and respect (except on this particular subject).

No offense intended to the legion of Jane Austen fan fiction writers who conjure new roles for her children from zombie fighters to dragon riders, swashbucklers to time travelers, or even transplants from other eras. I know you will continue to delight us all.

A Most Memorable Journey to Chawton

My career in digital marketing for a Fortune 500 company provided me many opportunities to travel to London which allowed me to frequently visit my dear friend, Tamsin, who was living in the small village of Over Wallop.

Her home was directly across the road from a thatched roof dairy farm. At 9:00 each morning the farmer would open the gate and the cows would walk out onto the road and take a right turn up an intersecting road and another right into their pasture for the day. In the evenings they took the same route home. It was a picturesque little community anchored by the local pub as the main gathering place for locals.

Tamsin grew up in Reading and attended the same school that Jane Austen had 200+ years earlier. She was a great travel planner and happy to take me on road trips in the area. Knowing I was a Jane Austen fan, during one of my visits we decided to drive to Chawton to visit the home where Jane had lived with her sister and mother. From there we would drive on to Winchester to visit the cathedral where Jane was buried.

The drive was perhaps 1 ½ hours from Over Wallop and when we arrived, we stopped at the local pub across the road from Jane’s former home for lunch and a pint before arriving at our destination. We were encouraged to see activity across the way as there appeared to be an organized gathering of tourists filtering in and out of the house, side buildings, and grounds. To our great disappointment, when we arrived at the front door, we were informed that the house was closed to the public for a private tour by a large group of Americans. I’m not sure if my American accent, my forlorn face, or general pleading carried the day but after describing our long drive to get there and my flight the next day, the docent agreed to let us in just to see the house, but we were not to join the rest of the tour. Many items in the house are replicas but it was still thrilling to see the writing desk and samples of clothing and letters in a glass display before making our way up to the bedroom and imagining Jane and Cassandra sharing dreams and plans and gossip of the day.

When we made our way back downstairs, we found the small house almost empty of the other visitors. Suddenly the back door opened, and a gentleman urgently called for the few people inside to make their way to the next station of the tour, a barn like building, because the rotation of guests had left that out building devoid of visitors. What else were we to do but comply with the request and follow a few others to the next site of the tour?

When I entered the building, my heart almost stopped such was my state of awe. The docent explained that while the displays in the house were replicas, we were seeing Jane’s real, handwritten letters under a glass cabinet. Standing directly next to it, on a mannequin, unprotected, was a dress that Jane had really worn. The pattern of the dress was almost a duplicate of the replica on display inside the house. I could have reached out and touched it. It was like finding the Holy Grail and I was almost breathless at the thought of gently caressing a garment that Jane had once worn, but I resisted the urge in the interest of preserving it for posterity. I had watched enough Antiques Roadshow episodes to know I should have white gloves on before handling such precious antique fabric.

She was small of frame although I’d read that she was tall and slender, but “tall” in the 1800’s is no doubt smaller than a typical tall woman in the 21st century. Being around 5’ tall myself I felt certain Jane and I could have easily seen eye to eye and had a lively conversation indeed. I will never forget what it felt like to be in such a hallowed place standing next to items that my favorite author in all the world had touched. It was a privilege beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

Next, we were shuffled off to another building where many of the tour group were in line to purchase Jane Austen memorabilia. The line was no doubt part of the reason that some of the tour stations were empty. Of course, I waited in line and made a few purchases of my own including a lovely watercolor of Chawton House, an old-fashioned fountain pen with a glass ink

bottle in a leather pouch, sepia colored ink, and a packet of note cards. I keep them almost as a shrine never attempting to use them even though I’d taken calligraphy courses long ago.

Next, we were off to Winchester where we saw the apartment at #8 College Street where she spent her last days and her burial site in Winchester Cathedral. The writing on the marble plaque that marks her grave did nothing to capture the long reach across the centuries that allows the enduring beauty, elegance, and subtlety of her prose to continue to resonate. The plaque does, however, acknowledge “the extraordinary endowments of her mind.” How remarkable this modest woman would have found that legions of her fans continue reading and retelling her stories to this day.

Our last stop in Winchester was a bookstore where I purchased a biography about her life along with a paperback book, The Complete Novels of Jane Austen, Seven Great English Classics which I proceeded to read cover to cover. I’d read several of her books in my teens and loved any film version of her stories, but this was the first time I read the entire canon. I’ve read it many times over now and the paperback became my bible when I decided to write my first novel, a sequel that brings together characters from all six books.

It is my sincere hope that anyone who reads The Matchmaker of Pemberley, An Amorous Sequel to All Jane Austen’s Novels, recognizes my concerted effort to emulate her style and approach to writing as a tribute to this remarkable author. I join a legion of writers who make her legacy endure by keeping her characters and stories alive.