Sanditon: Jane Austen’s unfinished novel – but so much to say about it! We only get a dozen chapters, only enough space to introduce readers to the players of the game and then we are left, open-ended, to imagine what would happen between them in a usual 3-volume length novel: Whose initial charm will turn wicked? Whose fortunes will unexpectedly change for the better, or plummet with the worst? Who will be punished by banishment and who will be rewarded in marriage and fortune?
The novel begins with the same trope as Northanger Abbey. A young country girl, Charlotte Heywood is lucky to be chosen from her many siblings on the parsonage to travel with a sponsor to a spa, resort town and gain experience of the wider world and the types of characters who move in society. Rather than travelling with Mr. and Mrs Allen to Bath like Catherine Morland in NA, Charlotte is hosted by Mr. Tom Parker and his wife, who bring her to Sanditon, a seaside town he hopes will be a top tourist attraction for the wealthy. Sea-bathing, walks to catch the sea air, and a doctor in residence are attractions he hopes will bring in society, which would lead to further entertainment – balls, the theatre, a rowing regatta? That last one is Andrew Davies’ imagined event, as he adapted Austen’s manuscript to the screen for Masterpiece, and had to write his own story and ending, as the manuscript only offers the beginning catalyst and characters.
Sanditon is different from Bath. As Todd point out, Austen visualizes the economics of the town which used to be a fishing village, and is more radical with the types of characters she brings to it. Tom Parker is an unabashed entrepreneur; Miss Lambe is a young mulatto heiress from the West Indies, scheduled to arrive and join society, and the usual suspects: a rich old widow with scheming relatives, a penniless ward, and silly spinster sisters round out society with their own motives and worldviews. I enjoyed reading them in light of Andrew Davies’ screen adaptation I had just viewed.
Tom Parker:
Enthusiastic entrepreneur, Tom Parker reminds me of a younger version of Charles Dickens’ Mr. Dorrit, who lives in an illusion of grandeur as the “Father of the Marshalsea,” which in reality is debtors’ prison - perhaps a sad real-world ending for Mr. Parker, outside of the happy-ending realm of Austen? Readers could get caught up in Mr. Parker’s excitement and dreams of success for his seaside town, but Austen’s narrator undercuts his idealism with satire. Through free indirect discourse, Austen’s narrator both believes in Parker’s dreams and laughs at them. On screen, this satire is lost, or at least the undercutting criticism is muddled, as characters rally around to support Tom even after he makes foolish business decisions. Tom Parker cannot read people: he cannot see his wife’s devotion, and on screen, he fumbles Charlotte and Sidney’s chances by misreading their feelings at the ball. In Austen, the inability to read people is a serious flaw and clue that Tom Parker cannot be the hero the story. In the manuscript, Charlotte is the sensible outsider who evaluates the people she meets with a wary eye. Whereas, on screen, she shames Sidney into furthering his brother’s cause (every time Sidney makes a decision, he looks to Charlotte – physically looks over to her, as if her presence is informing his decision), even if it might bring the family's downfall. Why isn’t Tom’s reasonability questioned?
The Denhams:
Lady Denham is the rich landowner of Sanditon and principle investor in Tom Parker’s project. Sir Edward Denham is one of the rich old widow’s younger relatives, jostling in line to inherit her fortune. In Austen, Sir Edward sees himself as a seducer, and he has the potential to be more than a perverse jerk to be a true villain who makes pivotal consequences in the story. He is another one of Austen’s characters who is under the influence of sentimental novels, and cannot read or quote from them properly. These are signs of a bad apple and his determination “in life [to be] seductive” and fascination to be “a dangerous man” give him motive to shake the protagonists off course (Austen 135).
One of the most beautiful scenes in the screen series is when Miss Denham, Edward’s sister, rides Lord Babington’s carriage pulled by black horses over the sand. Her steely exterior breaks into a smile when she takes the reins to command the horses to run faster. In Andrew Davies’ adaptation, Miss Denham gets the upward arc usually reserved for a deserved heroine. Interesting. Since in the beginning, she behaves as if she could be another scheming, self-interested Miss Crawford, bound for banishment, instead of the happy ending that she wins. Was this meant as consolation for being a victim to her brother and male lines of inheritance? I wasn’t thoroughly convinced.
Clara Brereton:
Janet Todd provides a list of different completions and adaptations of Austen’s manuscript, and summaries that “the main decision of [these subsequent] authors...is whether to let Clara Brereton remain virtuous as she is beautiful or to make her a sly schemer” (Todd 178). Andrew Davies chooses the latter, and I feel Austen sets Clara on a path of indecency and hidden secrets, as Charlotte does see her with Sir Edward in the gardens at Denham House in the manuscript. This faux-pas cancels her chances at winning a spot of good fortune by the heroine’s side. I agree that she is a false friend.
Arthur Parker:
The scene where Arthur is cooking toast on the fire at his sisters’ house, happily pleased that Charlotte let him have the more comfortable seat is my favourite. He shares his toast with Charlotte and tiffs at his sister’s attempt to cut back his decadent diet, as he says to Charlotte: “I will have pleasure of spreading some for you directly,” “without a little butter to soften it, it hurts the coats of the stomach – but there is no convincing some people” (Austen 153). His pleasure for buttered toast is endearing, in a similar way to Mr. Woodhouse’s obsession with simple pleasures and worries in Austen’s Emma. In the Sanditon adaptation, someone remarks that Arthur is the brother out of the three Parkers who is most often surprising, and they way he runs into the water to swim a very capable front crawl (after complaining about going in) and then salute mid-stroke captures that surprising spirit. I think he should end up with Miss Lambe – that would be a surprise catch. But I feel Miss Lambe would uncover the kind-hearted gentleman that Arthur is, after she is wounded by the cads of the world who were simply after her money.
Mr. Stringer:
The Sringer family is only mentioned in the novel as grocers, when Tom assures his wife and Charlotte that they will have a fresh supply of “any vegetables of fruit [that] happen to be wanted” by “buy[ing] the chief of our consumption of the Stringers” (Austen 102-3). Todd remarks that this comment serves as a contrast to traditional economies where landowners grew food on their estate, instead of buying imports. Andrew Davies creates a new character for Mr. Stringer, as the architect of Sanditon who is the grown-up the son of a master mason. He is a working class gentleman and becomes a love interest for Charlotte. I’m on team Stringer! My critique of the series, is that when Charlotte says her goodbyes, Mr. Stringer should ask if can write to her, so that their friendship will continue to grow into a partnership.
Sidney Parker:
Janet Todd’s introduction to this edition includes a photo of the last page of Austen’s manuscript. The last line of chapter 12 runs along the top of the page, then there is a date, March 18th, as if Austen would have started back writing on that day had her poor health not have prevented her (Todd 11). Signs of Austen’s illness began in early 1816 and she died in July 1817. Todd writes that Sanditon is haunted by this mostly blank page, an openness to the manuscript, blank and tantalizing for readers and spin-off authors to fill in. The plot is also left open and tantalizing, as in the last chapter we hear that Sidney, Mr Parker’s wealthy and sensible brother, will be arriving shortly. Mr. Tom Parker, his equally enthusiastic sister Diana, their quirky brother Arthur, and sickly sister Susan take up the story we do have. But often in Austen novels, the characters who dominate the early chapters with silliness or charismatic charm do not reveal themselves to be the true heroes and heroines of the novel. Austen’s heroes have a habit of revealing themselves late – when readers have had time to read them – to read and understand the integrity of their character. Which is why, in the manuscript, I feel Sidney Parker is the intended hero for Charlotte Heywood. References to his wealth and intelligence add to the promise of his late arrival.
In Davies’ adaptation, I feel differently; on screen, his behaviour excludes him from my forgiveness by misunderstanding. He is not a Colin Firth, a generous gentleman hiding behind a cold exterior. Andrew Davis has his Sidney Parker behave like a Willoughby. In Sense & Sensibility, when Willoughby returns after his marriage to profess that he always loved Marianne, Eleanor beats him out of the house. When Sidney stops Charlotte in her carriage, he deserves a similar beating. Sidney promised Charlotte twice and unlike Edward Ferris, who honours his commitment to Lucy Steele (and Eleanor loves him for it!), Sidney does not have the courage to keep his promises. He is inconsistent again, by being attracted to Charlotte’s independent spirit (which stretches outside the bounds of nineteenth-century realism when she travels to London alone and takes up the bat in a public cricket match, which is another point of criticism), but cannot sympathize with Miss Lambe, who shows equal independence and desire to control her own life. Why can’t he see the strength and spirit in Miss Lambe, his ward? Sanditon therefore ends without a hero, and I agree that it could not have been Andrew Davies’ Mr. Sidney Parker.
Lady Susan:
Lady Susan does not exist in the manuscript, as she makes her appearance late in Andrew Davies’ adaptation as a wealthy aristocrat who takes an interest in Charlotte with a follow up visit to Sanditon. When Charlotte blabs all her troubles to Lady Susan at the ball in London, it felt like a sacrilege to etiquette. In Pride & Predjudice, Elizabeth and Darcy take care to keep their Wickham troubles out of the ears of gossipers, as they respect the damage it would cause Georgiana and Lydia and shows their integrity not to air someone else’s personal matters. When Charlotte spills the Parkers' troubles onto Lady Susan, I could not respect her for it. But then, maybe this moment in the screen series can be read as a modern moment of meta – when the art points to itself as a constructed piece of art. Her conversation with Lady Susan breaks the reality of nineteenth-century etiquette to announce the ridicules of the drama the Sanditon characters find themselves in.
A Masterpiece series that leaves a lot to talk about and an unfinished manuscript that is enjoyable and skillfully written - I recommend that you check them both out!