Jane Austen and Feminism

Posted on June 25, 2012 by Regina Jeffers

by Regina Jeffers


In 1968, the Women’s Liberation Movement staged a demonstration at the annual Miss America Beauty pageant in Atlantic City, New Jersey. They protested the idea that the most important thing about a woman is how she looks.Women’s liberation attacked “male chauvinism, commercialization of beauty, racism and oppression symbolized by the Pageant.”(JoFreeman.com) I am a product of that particular generation. I was a teen in the 1960s and a young woman in 1970s. Generally, I was raised in the Southern states, and I thoroughly understand the “good ole boys” system. Recently, at my retirement recognition gathering at the high school where I taught for many years, instead of praising me for my dedication to my academic area or to my students, my principal stood up and said, “If you have ever served on a committee with Regina, you know that she has no problem in speaking her mind.” Well, that is something, but, obviously, not how one would like to be remembered after 40 years in the classroom. In other words, I had “ruffled his feathers” on more than one occasion by not always conforming to how he thought a woman should act. I have never been subservient to a male. That was my mother. I am a daughter of the women’s movement. So, like Jane Austen, while I write about romance and tradition and virtue, I still place my female characters in roles where they “defy” the never ending patriarchal society in which they live.

In 18th Century England, certain educated women began to question why men did not see women as rational creatures. Among those were Mary Astell and Catherine Macaulay, who discussed such issues as the lack of a female educational system and the absolute authority of males in the family unit. One must wonder if these ideas influenced a young Jane Austen. In each of Austen’s six main novels, the concept of marriage is told from a female perspective. Is Jane telling us that the male view is obsolete?
It would be difficult to call Austen a feminist because her point of view is very subtle. Yet, her message has been read by millions of women around the world, and I openly admit that it influenced me. But who influenced Jane? We shall never know for sure, but it is likely that one of those could have been Mary Wollstonecraft. In 1792 (when Jane was but an impressionable 16-year-old), Wollstonecraft released A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. As an English teacher, this was one of my favorite pieces to bring to my students for it has strong parallels to modern times. Wollstonecraft openly stated that both men and women have the potential to conduct themselves as reasonable and rational human beings. One sex did not have dominance over the other. Wollstonecraft also attacked earlier writers, especially John Milton and Rosseau, for advocating the subordinate position of women in a man’s life. The author’s idea that the 18th Century English educated their women only in how to attract (or “trap”) a man into marriage, but did nothing to equip them with the skills to be good wives and mothers was quite controversial. With Vindication’s release, new doors opened for women writers.
However, Wollstonecraft soon lost her life to childbirth. (BTW, her daughter was Mary Godwin, who eventually became the wife of Percy Shelley and the author of Frankenstein.) Afterwards, Wollstonecraft’s husband, William Godwin, wrote a sometimes embellished Memoir of his wife’s life. He told the world of the love affair that produced an illegitimate child and of her suicide attempts and of her rejection of Christianity. Wollstonecraft was labeled an atheist and a “whore.” Critics held a new weapon in discrediting her work, and indirectly, the writings of all women.
Unfortunately, Mary’s downfall brought close scrutiny on those who followed. A female writer could not be seen as advocating the overthrow of marriage rituals. In 1798, the Reverend Richard Polwhele published an anti-feminist satirical poem entitled “The Unsex’d Females.” In it, Polwhele  argued that the “sparkle of confident intelligence” was proof that female writers were immodest and that it was a sign of the “corrupt”  times that anyone would go so far to consider a woman’s work on the same level as a man’s. Please remember that it was that same year (1798) when the publisher Cadell refused Rev. Austen’s offer of his daughter Jane’s First Impressions manuscript.
Jane Austen does one thing better than any other female writer. She writes dominate female characters with spotless reputations. In each novel, one finds the seduced-and-abandoned plot embedded in the main story line, but Austen’s subject is not courtship. Kathryn B. Stockton of the University of Utah says, “Austen’s works are about ‘marriageship: the cautious investigation of a field of eligible males, the delicate maneuvering to meet them, the refined outpacing of rivals, the subtle circumventing of parental power and the careful management, which turns the idle flirtation into a firm offer of marriage with a good settlement for life. All this must be carried on in a way that the heroine maintains her self-respect, her moral dignity, and her character as daughter, sister, friend, and neighbor.’” For myself, I am more inclined to agree with G. K. Chesterton, who said, “Jane Austen could do one thing neither Charlotte Bronte or George Eliot could do: She could cooly and sensibly describe a man.”
In Persuasion, Austen wrote, “But let me observe that all histories are against you, all stories, prose and verse. If I had such a memory as Benwick, I could bring you fifty quotations in a moment on my side the argument, and I do not think I ever opened a book in my life, which had not something to say upon woman’s inconstancy. Songs and proverbs, all talk of woman’s fickleness. But perhaps you will say, these were all written by men.”
“…Men have had every advantage of us in telling their story. Education has been theirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been in their hands. I will not allow books to prove any thing.”
After Wollstonecraft’s “downfall,” women writers, even those who did not express views of “female philosophers,” had difficulty finding a market for their writing and gaining respect for their talents in a male-dominated occupation. They had to stress the virtue of ladylike qualities and respectable lives. Rights for women could not be their focus.
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Jane Austen is Ingrained on My Psyche

Posted on June 22, 2012 by Regina Jeffers

In writing my guest post for Barbara Tiller Cole’s “Darcyholic Diversions,” I looked at the parts of Pride and Prejudice, which spoke to me early on in my life-long love of Jane Austen’s works. Then I began to think of the other Austen phrases, which have been a part of my makeup for so many years that I have lost count. I would like to share some of my favorites and, hopefully, you will add your own to the mix.

From Marianne Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility: “It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.” (I married my husband after a three weeks’ acquaintance. We remained married for twenty-five years.)

From Emma Woodhouse in Emma: “If a woman doubts as to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to refuse him. If she can hesitate as to ‘Yes,’ she ought to say ‘No’ directly. It is not a state to be safely entered into with doubtful feelings, with half a heart.” (We have all had that friend like Charlotte Lucas who marries simply for the idea of being married. I always thought Ms. Woodhouse’s advice very sound.)

From Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice: “I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.” (How often are we in a relationship and have lost our heart before we even realize that we are interested in the person?)

From Emma in The Watsons: “To be bent on marriage–to pursue a man merely for the sake of situation–is a sort of thing that shocks me; I cannot understand it. Poverty is a great evil, but to a woman of education and feeling it ought not, it cannot be the greatest. I would rather be a teacher at a school (and I can think of nothing worse) than marry a man I did not like.” [Ironically, I read The Watsons some five to six years into my career as a teacher. This quote struck a sour chord. I spent 39 years in the public classrooms of three different states.]

From Mr. Weston in Emma: “One cannot have too large a party.” (The best thing about an excessively large party is the ability to be absolutely alone in the crowd.)

The narrator speaks of Caroline Bingley in Pride and Prejudice: “Angry people are not always wise.” (I doubt any of us could counter this statement. I have lost my temper and acted in haste on more than one occasion.)

From Fanny Price in Mansfield Park: “We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be.” (Pleasing others serves no purpose other than to fan our vanity.)

From Anne Elliot in Persuasion: “My idea of good company is the company of clever, well-informed people who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company.” (Men should learn this fact about the women in their lives.)

From Mary Bennet in Pride and Prejudice: “Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity, to what we would have others think of us.” (Simply said: A person may be proud of his accomplishments without being vain.)

From Henry Tilney in Northanger Abbey: “The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.” (Does nonfiction count in this instance???)

From Mrs. Grant in Mansfield Park: “There will be little rubs and disappointments everywhere, and we are all apt to expect too much; but then, if one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere.” (Sometimes turning away is difficult to do.)

The Narrator speaks of Lady Denham in Sandition: “Every neighborhood should have a great lady.” (I always wanted to be that woman. LOL!!!)

From Lady Susan Vernon in Lady Susan: “I like this man; pray heaven no harm come of it!” (Finding Mr. Right can be impossible.)

 

Now, dear Readers, what might you add to my list?

 

Shackled in the dungeon of a macabre castle with no recollection of her past, a young woman finds herself falling in love with her captor – the estate’s master. Yet, placing her trust in him before she regains her memory and unravels the castle’s wicked truths would be a catastrophe.

Far away at Pemberley, the Darcys happily gather to celebrate the marriage of Kitty Bennet. But a dark cloud sweeps through the festivities: Georgiana Darcy has disappeared without a trace. Upon receiving word of his sister’s likely demise, Darcy and wife, Elizabeth, set off across the English countryside, seeking answers in the unfamiliar and menacing Scottish moors.

How can Darcy keep his sister safe from the most sinister threat she has ever faced when he doesn’t even know if she’s alive? True to Austen’s style and rife with malicious villains, dramatic revelations and heroic gestures, this suspense-packed mystery places Darcy and Elizabeth in the most harrowing situation they have ever faced – finding Georgiana before it is too late.

 

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Sense and Sensibility 1995, Part 2 of Movie Discussion – Rewriting Jane Austen’s Heroes

Posted on June 21, 2012 by Regina Jeffers

by Regina Jeffers

In December 1995, Columbia/Mirage Pictures released Sense and Sensibilityto U.S. theatres. Based on Emma Thompson’s (who won the 1996 Academy Award for Best Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium) screenplay, this adaptation goes a long way in creating heroes out of what are sometimes seen as bland characters. Last month, we took our first look at the changes made by Thompson. This month, we shall look at those specifically made for Edward and Colonel Brandon. By changing scenes from the novel to portray more sensitive and caring males, Thompson appeals to modern viewers by recasting the novel’s heroes. Let us begin with the “sculpting” of Edward Ferras.

First, Edward displays his paternal side with Margaret, who has just lost her father. In the Norland library, it is Edward who engages Elinor in a lively geography lesson to entice an emotional Margaret from her hiding place under the table. Next, we see Edward sword fighting with Margaret. This is another of Thompson’s fabricated scenes. It is used to demonstrate Edward’s playful nature, his self-effacing personality, and his potential as a loving father. Throughout the next few scenes, Edward makes numerous references to the time he has spent playing pirate with Margaret. His estimation grows before our eyes. We learn to like a man, who indulges children rather than ignoring them.
Additional dialogue and scenes are added by Thompson in which Edward makes an attempt to express his love and devotion to Elinor. In these created scenes he stumbles over his words when they are together in the barn, in the scene where Lucy is in the room with Elinor, and when Elinor speaks of Brandon’s offer of a living. Edward asks for forgiveness but never explains why Elinor should extend it. His lack of speech actually says more than elongated professions of his love. Edward’s emotional discomposure is easily interpreted by the viewer. However, neither the attempts nor Edward’s unexpressed words are found in the novel. Thompson has created an emotionally sensitive hero.
The atlas from the library scene keeps Edward in the audience’s mind even when he does not make the scheduled appearance at Barton Cottage. Therefore, it is disappointing to the viewer when the book arrives in the mail. However, this device helps Thompson tell the story. Elinor can question Edward’s previous attentions to her, and his absence can make Lucy’s story more believable. Thompson speaks of Edward’s betrayal through Lucy’s display of a handkerchief exactly like the one to which Elinor has attached her hopes. In the novel, Edward never gives Elinor any such gift, even in passing. Like the atlas, the handkerchief is a metonymic device to establish Elinor’s emotional turmoil. Remember that Elinor is supposed to represent “good sense.” Emotions attached to the handkerchief or any other gift are not found in the novel.

 

Likewise, Thompson allows Alan Rickman’s portrayal of Colonel Brandon to express true emotion. The viewer’s introduction to Brandon displays a man mesmerized by Marianne’s performance on the pianoforte. He loves the music and her voice; therefore, we know instantly that he feels passionately about her. In contrast, the novel refers to Brandon as “an absolute old bachelor.” He has spent the evening with the Dashwoods at the Middletons. In fact, the novel says that Brandon “heard her without being in raptures.” Austen’s words are quite different from the scene we know. Add the music scene from the film’s end where Brandon sends Marianne a pianoforte of her own, and we have physical signs of love. Ironically, in the novel, it is Willoughby who shares Marianne’s love of music.

 

Brandon mimics Willoughby’s pursuit of Marianne. Both men carry Marianne home in the rain. This is a way of transferring Willoughby’s natural, open wildness to Brandon. His tender administrations on Marianne’s behalf makes him a believable substitute for Willoughby.  As with Edward, objects keep Brandon in the viewer’s mind: a lawnbowling ball, a knife to cut the reeds, flowers, a book of verse, and a pianoforte. Willoughby gives wildflowers and Brandon hot house roses; Willoughby quotes Shakespeare, and Brandon reads from Spenser. Willoughby and Brandon are no longer polar opposites.

 

Brandon says, “For there is nothing lost, but may be found, if sought.” We seek a romantic hero and find him in this portrayal. Like Marianne, we are possessed by an emotionally sensitive man that we can love. Austen does not give us the same emotional enhancements. Modern audiences demand the “Cinderella” ending, and, in this film, we lose some of Austen’s cautionary tale of the pitfalls of too much or too little sense and sensibility. Emotional sensitivity becomes a substitute for social restraint. With Brandon’s heroic ride and plea for something to do “or I will run mad,” Thompson eliminates the need for Willoughby’s emotional rehabilitation.
Through the minor characters, we learn the local gossip and the developing drama. This device keeps these characters from “disappearing,” as they did in the novel. Characters who fade into the background on the written page help tell the story in the film. Of the two portrayals, I found Alan Rickman’s the superior one. His subtle manner of displaying Brandon’s feelings for Marianne shows how a mask of reticence can hide one’s true emotions. Hugh Grant’s portrayal, on the other hand, was reminiscent of his 1994′s Four Weddings and a Funeral. He still continued to stammer, but Grant does so with less charm this time around. By the film’s end, I wanted to see the classically awkward and a bit-self absorbed Edward with Marianne, and the passionate, long-suffering, and honorable Brandon with Elinor.
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“Sense & Sensibility” 1995 (or) Rewriting Jane Austen – A Movie Discussion

Posted on June 20, 2012 by Regina Jeffers

by Regina Jeffers

As part of JASNA’s salute to Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility in 2011, this will be a two-part look of the 1995 film adaptation. Next month, we will examine the “making” of Edward Ferras and Colonel Brandon. This month, however, I wanted to explore the many non-Austen “creations” added to this film. I do not do so as criticism, but more out of the awareness that, for many people, film adaptations are all they know of the story line. This piece will also point out how Emma Thompson, as the screenwriter, added “bits” to introduce the modern audience to the dire situation in which women of Austen’s time often found themselves.

Prior to the 1995 production, there were three other film versions of Sense and Sensibility. On June 4, 1950, Philco Television Playhouse produced a one-hour adaptation starring Madge Evans as Elinor and Cloris Leachman as Marianne. In 1971, Ciaran Madden (Marianne), Robin Ellis (Edward), and Joanna David (Elinor) were seen in four 50-minute episodes on the BBC (January 3, 10, 17, 24). That screen play was written by Denis Constanduros, who used much of it again for the 1981 version, which was seen on the BBC in seven 30-minute episodes from February 1 through March 14, 1981. This version, starring Irene Richards as Elinor and Tracey Childs as Marianne, had one advantage over the 1971 adaptation. It was shot on location rather than on studio sets.
  • One of the most obvious “twists” to the original Austen is the way that the film creates “sensitive” male characters. This is not a new phenomenon. Film adaptations of Austen’s males often project qualities on the characters, which are not found in the text. For example, Colonel Brandon is excessively attentive to his adoptive daughter Eliza. He also expresses his compassion in dealing with Marianne’s impulsive nature and with the Dashwoods’ situation.
  • Edward is seen as being a sensitive male. He refuses Margaret’s room; he plays games with Margaret.
  • The film also highlights a greater disparity between the male characters from the novels. We have repeatedly seen the strong, dependable male (Darcy, Wentworth, etc.) vs. the sociable, but very unreliable male (Wickham, Mr. Elliot, etc.). Brandon and Willoughby continue that cinematic storytelling. In fact, Brandon is actually given some of qualities that Austen bestowed upon Willoughby. In the novel, Willoughby comes to Cleveland while Marianne is ill. He eloquently expresses his regrets to Elinor. We never see this in the film, which allows Alan Rickman’s Brandon to become a more acceptable mate for Marianne, especially to a modern audience who might otherwise object to the differences in their ages.
  • By the way, did you notice that Willoughby rides a white horse, and Brandon rides a black one? What happened to the tried and true signals for viewers to know a man’s personality by the horse he rides?
  • In the novel’s end, Marianne appears subdued and malleable. Whereas, the film maintains the concept of “equality” in Brandon’s and Marianne’s relationship.
  • Brandon does the same thing as Willoughby – just not as well. This helps with the transfer of the audience’s affections to Colonel Brandon. For example, Willoughby carries Marianne to Barton Cottage; Brandon carries her to Cleveland.  Both men give her flowers, but Willoughby has chosen wild flowers to those which are cultivated. Willoughby recites poetry to Marianne. Brandon reads to her from “The Faerie Queene.” In the novel, Willoughby shares Marianne’s interest in music; Brandon possesses that quality in the film.
  • The role of Margaret is expanded greatly from Austen’s description of the child as a “good-humored, well-disposed girl.” Margaret Dashwood is given the “freedoms” that her sisters can never have. She speaks her mind. She chooses a future of her own (a pirate). Margaret is the device by which Edward is revealed to the viewer. Her character is also the source of much of the film’s humor.
  • The happiness of the wedding scene reminded me of Emma Thompson’s ex-husband’s staging of the ending of Much Ado About Nothing. The coins tossed into the air are much like the procession and flower petals of the Shakespeare remake.
  • The characters of Lady Middleton and her children are omitted from the film, as well as Lucy’s sister Nancy. The latter plays a pivotal role in the novel because it is she who “spills the beans” about Lucy’s engagement to Edward. Of course, Lucy whispering that secret to Fanny in the film leads to a most hilarious scene, so maybe Nancy was not necessary.
  • Instead of visiting Barton Cottage (per the novel), Edward sends Margaret the atlas and an apologetic letter.
  • In the novel, Lucy and Robert’s marriage comes as a complete surprise, but the movie previews their joining when Robert shows his preference for her at the London ball.
  • The movie omits the scene from the novel where Marianne says that Elinor cannot understand the anguish of losing someone because Elinor has Edward’s love.
  • Brandon sends Marianne a pianoforte. In the book, she already has one.
  • In the novel, Edward never hints of his engagement, but, in the film, he tries to tell Elinor in the scene taking place in the stable.
  • Explanatory scenes are required for a modern audience; therefore, we see Elinor telling Margaret why John and Fanny now own Norland. We see the promise that John made to Henry Dashwood to “do something” for his sisters. We see John and Fanny “reduce” what the Dashwoods should receive. Austen would have no need to tell her readers these central facts. Elinor tells Edward, “Except you will inherit your fortune. We cannot even earn ours.” That line is a reminder to modern viewers of a woman’s fate. Unfortunately, it is lessened by Edward’s reference to playing pirate with Margaret. “Piracy is our only option.”
  • Probably the most glaring change to Austen’s novel is Marianne’s walk in the  rain to view Combe Magna, which was supposedly 30 miles from Cleveland. In the book, Marianne becomes ill despite her refusing to go out in the rain.

  • Hugh Laurie’s character of Mr. Palmer is also greatly expanded. His dry humor reminds one of his current character of “House,” but Laurie is well known for other comedic stints. Mr. Palmer, of the film, is not just the censorious man we meet in the book. The film shows him as kind and considerate. He carries Marianne upstairs after Brandon brings her to Cleveland. He is upset that he must leave the Dashwoods to fend for themselves during Marianne’s illness. The film also displays how mismatched the Palmers are in marriage.
Austen’s film adaptations tend to focus on contemporary post feminist ideas. Period dramas, as a genre, invite the viewers to take on the rich features of the novel. Yet, no film can reproduce the nuances and exquisite details of the text. For 135 minutes, Sense and Sensibility allows us to explore Jane Austen’s first novel in a visual format. Does it have its strengths? Absolutely! Are there weaknesses? Profoundly so. Tell me what you think, Austen addicts. I will check in periodically to respond to your comments.
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Pride & Prejudice Retelling – Darcy Attempts to Forget Elizabeth Bennet – Part One

Posted on June 19, 2012 by Regina Jeffers

(Note: In my versions of Pride and Prejudice, I give Colonel Fitzwilliam the name “Edward,” my father’s name.)

“I am pleased you have come so quickly, Edward,” Georgiana said as she served his tea.

“Your note said it was important,” he said with a bemused smirk. The colonel could not remember a time that his cousin had ever thought to consult with him on matters concerning her brother’s state of mind. His Georgiana had known her own tribulations. George Wickham, a man Edward Fitzwilliam had never liked, had attempted to seduce the innocent Georgiana and to arrange an elopement. Thankfully, Darcy had arrived in time to thwart the scoundrel’s plans. However, for many months following that incident, Georgiana had suffered from a lack of confidence, but her demand that he call upon her perhaps signaled a turn for the better.

“I pray I did not interfere with your duties or your personal life,” she said contritely, but her countenance spoke of an emotion he could not identify.

Edward sipped the tea. “I am at your disposal, Cousin. Mayhap you should explain your concerns and then allow me to draw my own conclusions.”

Georgiana squared her shoulders. She bit her bottom lip in hesitation, but she said, “I likely am making a mistake, but I must know whether the foul mood that has consumed Fitzwilliam of late has something to do with my earlier indiscretion. I could not bear it if my brother had not forgiven me.”

Edward’s frown crinkled his forehead. “I am certain that Darcy would never believe what happened between you and Mr. Wickham to be of your doing.” Even saying the miscreant’s name left a foul taste in Edward’s mouth. “Would you explain what changes you have noted in my cousin’s demeanor that brings on your alarm?”

Georgiana sighed heavily. Her voice broke ever so slightly, a poignant, telling little break. “I pray you estimation of Fitzwilliam’s melancholy proves true. My brother often locks himself into his study, even sleeping on the chaise in the room. During those long hours, he only opens the door to Mr. Norton, who serves Fitzwilliam a decanter of brandy. He ignores estate business, and I cannot remember the last time we spent time together.” Warmth burned a path across her cheekbones.

A protective urge swept through him: He caught the pain underscoring her words. “What you describe is most unusual. Darcy is normally most conscientious. I cannot imagine my cousin acting thusly.” Edward had his own suspicions. “Has Darcy spoken of problems at Pemberley?”

“No, nothing,” she assured. “I have hinted to my brother’s steward and to his man of business, and they both assure me that Pemberley thrives under Fitzwilliam’s hand.”

It was Edward’s turn to hesitate. “Perhaps I should stay to supper. It would provide me the opportunity to observe my cousin.”

Her hold on the teacup relaxed. “Thank you, Edward.”

Darcy’s haggard looks shocked Edward, and Darcy’s reserve, even with his relatives, spoke chapters. “Fitz,” Edward began tentatively. “I thought you might want to know that Miss Elizabeth is in town.” Edward had noted Darcy’s animation whenever they encountered the lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet at Hunsford. He suspected that his cousin had formed a tender for the woman.

Edward watched as Darcy’s whole being reflected his discomposure. “Miss Elizabeth, you say? Pray tell where you encountered the lady in London.”

He did not need to read his cousin’s expression. He could hear the feigned nonchalance in Darcy’s voice. “I did not speak to her directly. She, Miss Lucas, another young lady fair of countenance, and an older couple were in a drapers shop in Pall Mall, near Harding and Howell, Tuesday last. I had just completed another round of training for some new recruits and was not presentable to greet her party properly. I assumed, Cousin, that you would know of Miss Bennet’s itinerary.”

“I am not one of Miss Elizabeth’s intimates,” Darcy snapped. They sat in silence for several minutes. Darcy downed a large glass of brandy. “The mercantile district, you say?” His cousin’s voice had softened.

“From the window, I observed that the lady had chosen a fine lace, even returning to it several times, but Miss Elizabeth did not purchase the item.” Edward shared conspiratorially. “I thought you might be interested.”

“Miss Elizabeth is of no consequence to me,” Darcy announced as he stood. “Edward, I have some estate matters to address. If you will excuse me, I will retire to my study. Please enjoy Georgiana’s company. She deserves someone more cordial than I have been of late.” With that, his cousin strode from the room.

Pausing long enough for Darcy’s footsteps to announce his retreat, Georgiana whispered, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet? The one from Hertfordshire?”

Edward nodded his affirmation. “I believe your brother has a broken heart,” he shared privately.

“Oh, my!” Georgiana gasped. “I would never have suspected as such. Fitzwilliam has shunned the advances of so many women among the ton. I never thought he might prefer a country miss.”

Edward smiled knowingly, “I doubt that Fitz had any knowledge of his own vulnerability.” He assisted Georgiana to her feet. They turned their steps toward the drawing room. “The problem lies in the fact that Miss Elizabeth does not welcome your brother’s attentions.”

Georgiana shook her head. “How is that possible? Cannot Miss Elizabeth see that Fitzwilliam is the most honorable of men?”

He considered the problem for a moment. Edward explained, “Darcy’s stubborn nature and his heightened need for privacy can often be misinterpreted. Miss Elizabeth’s exuberance is a sharp contrast to Darcy’s silence. I doubt if the lady realizes that your brother could be a counterweight to her impulsivity.”

“Are matters of the heart always so convoluted?” she asked innocently. “If so, I may consider a nunnery.”

Edward caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “That would be a crime against nature. Some day, you will find the perfect match, and I will toast the match.”

Several hours later, Edward knocked lightly at Darcy’s study door, but no response came from within. He rapped louder the second time before he opened the door to peer in. His eyes fell to the papers resting on the floor; then he spied Darcy slumped over his desk, the remnants of a glass of brandy clutched tightly in his cousin’s hand. Edward eased the door closed behind him. “Just as I suspected,” he said under his breath. The smell of stale cigar smoke and spilled alcohol filled the space. The colonel had assisted more than one of his military acquaintances in similar situations, but to discover Darcy as such was disconcerting. He could not recall a time when Fitzwilliam Darcy allowed himself to lose control. “Come Cousin.” He slid an arm under Darcy’s to lift his cousin to his feet. “Allow me to assist you to your chambers.”

“Ah, Edward.” Darcy swayed as he stood. “My good cousin. Have I ever told you how jealous I am of you?” Darcy slurred his words.

“Why, Darcy?” Edward positioned his cousin’s arm around his shoulder. “You have so much more than I.”

“You could have had Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy declared. Slouching, Darcy’s whole composure crumbled. “The lady enjoyed your company so much more than mine.”

Edward assisted Darcy to a nearby chair. At Rosings Park, the colonel had witnessed Darcy’s vying for Elizabeth Bennet’s attentions, but even he remained uncertain as to the extent of Darcy’s feelings. Earlier, he had told Georgiana that Darcy’s heart was engaged; yet, he had said so for Georgiana’s sake. In truth, he had wondered if his cousin had simply wished a seduction rather than a commitment. Despite her affability, one part of the colonel thought Darcy deserved better than Miss Elizabeth, a woman with little to offer a man of Darcy’s stature. Therefore, he tested Darcy’s purpose. “Miss Elizabeth has her charms, but, as you kindly noted, her connections are low. I cannot imagine anyone of our acquaintance aligning himself with the likes of Miss Bennet. The lady possesses no qualities to deem her a suitable match.”

Although he was deeply intoxicated, Darcy still had taken the bait. Edward’s words incensed his cousin. Darcy pulled himself up straight and spoke with indignation. “Sir, I will beg you not to speak so of Miss Elizabeth. Your censure is most unwelcome.”

Edward’s smile went unnoticed by Darcy as the man collapsed into the colonel’s arms. “I apologize, Cousin,” he began. “Allow me to call for some coffee. Then perhaps you can tell me of Miss Elizabeth’s many allurements.”

Clinging to Edward, Darcy lurched forward. Reaching for the chair’s arm, he fell heavily into the seat. “Elizabeth Bennet is an incomparable woman, and I am the last man in the world she could be prevailed upon to marry.” Thus said, Darcy passed out from the effort. Interest piqued, Edward set himself the task of discovering the depth of Darcy’s interest in the woman.

 

It had taken more coffee and more time than he had anticipated, but Edward managed to bring Darcy around to some semblance of his former self. Darcy sat with his head in his hands and elbows propped upon his knees. It was very late, but Edward pressed on. “Cousin, we should speak earnestly. You have become a shadow of the person you once were; you withdraw from Georgiana and from your acquaintances; your work remains untouched on your desk; and you made a reference to Miss Elizabeth that we should address.”

Darcy sat up and looked vaguely about him. “I suppose I owe you some sort of an explanation, but I am certain I can speak the words.”

“It is Georgiana to whom you owe an explanation. Have you not noticed that your sister blames herself for your current misery? She believes she disappoints you.”

“How is that so?” his cousin began, but the realization crossed Darcy’s countenance.

“You have given Elizabeth Bennet your heart?” Edward accused.

Darcy said reluctantly, “Am I that obvious?”

“Fitz, we have been more cousins. You are more of a brother to me than is Roland.” Darcy chuckled as he acknowledged Edward’s words. “I realized before we journeyed to Rosings that you held an interest in Elizabeth Bennet. When the great Fitzwilliam Darcy mentions a woman twice, I notice. When he mentions her repeatedly, I know something is amiss.”

“Miss Elizabeth holds me in contempt; she said as much when I offered her everything I had,” Darcy confessed.

“Elizabeth Bennet refused you? This cannot be.” He thought to give Darcy hope for a resolution. “You are perfect for each other. The woman makes you laugh, Fitz; no one has ever made you laugh.” Darcy smiled easily. His cousin, obviously, enjoyed the image. “Darcy, you must tell me what happened.”

“Mr. Wickham poisoned the lady’s mind to me. I am lost to Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy moaned. “Plus, in my pomposity, I injured Miss Elizabeth by hurting her sister.”

“How could you have offered the elder Miss Bennet an offense?”

“Do you recall my bragging about separating Bingley from an inappropriate connection?”

“Not Miss Elizabeth’s sister!”

“Unfortunately,” Darcy confessed.

The muscles along his jaw twitched. “Darcy, I fear Miss Elizabeth heard of your perfidy from my lips. No wonder the lady suddenly took ill that day in the park.”

“Do not concern yourself, Cousin. I realized from whom Miss Elizabeth heard the news before we took our leave of her at Rosings. Miss Elizabeth would have discovered my deceit sooner or later; she is a clever woman. Miss Elizabeth settled against me before I convinced Bingley to leave Netherfield; I treated her poorly, and then professed my love for her; my duplicity only encouraged her scorn.”

“Then I am to assume that you actually offered Miss Elizabeth you hand in marriage?”

Darcy hesitated. “I did request Miss Elizabeth’s assent, but I fear I did not articulate my intentions well. I planned what I wished to say, but in the lady’s presence, my mind could not recall the words I wished her to know.”

Edward chuckled, “What, may I ask, did you say?”

“I explained the torment of my decision, my qualms about her lack of connections, and the impropriety shown by her family…”

Edward laughed loudly as he refilled his cousin’s cup. “Only you, Cousin, would tell a woman that you loved her by telling her how repugnant you found her family. Is it not surprising that Miss Elizabeth did not find this endearing?”

A sough escaped Darcy’s throat, and he buried his face in his hands. “It appears,” he said at last, “I have been a simpleton when it come to Elizabeth Bennet; my folly does not speak well of my intentions, does it?”

“Men, in love, are often foolhardy,” Edward added quietly. “Let us finish this tomorrow. Do you think you can make it to your chambers?”

Darcy nodded his compliance. The colonel rand for Henry’s assistance, and together they managed to maneuver Darcy safely to his bed. Henry departed to prepare a room for Edward. Thinking that Darcy’s labored breathing indicated that his cousin had found sleep, Edward moved quietly to the door. However, a muffled call from Darcy stayed Edward’s retreat. “Cousin, which shop in the mercantile district did Miss Elizabeth frequent?”

“Concern not yourself,” Edward assured as he took several steps forward. “I will send a servant around tomorrow for the lace. Some day you will present it to Miss Elizabeth as a symbol of your regard for her.” Darcy’s arm waved his acceptance of Edward’s suggestion, and the colonel slipped from the room.


(This excerpt is an adaptation of a similar incident from chapter 10 of Darcy’s Passions, which was my first Austen-inspired novel. I am pleased to say that Ulysses Press has recently sent Darcy’s Passions for a second print run.)

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“Persuasion” 1995 – A Movie Discussion

Posted on June 18, 2012 by Regina Jeffers


by Regina Jeffers

In describing Persuasion in his script’s introduction, Nick Dear said, “The story essentially describes an old order fading away into decadence, and a new tribe, a meritocracy, coming to the fore.” Persuasion has seen four renderings. The first was presented on four consecutive weeks from December 30, 1960, to January 20, 1961.Daphne Slater, who incidentally portrayed Elizabeth Bennet in 1952′s Pride and Prejudice, played Anne Elliot, while Paul Daneman took on the role of Frederick Wentworth. ITV presented the second adaptation in five parts from April 18 to May 16, 1971. This adaptation starred Ann Firbank and Bryan Marshall in the main roles. In April 1995, BBC-2 presented the third rendering. This one was later released to theatres. It brought us Amanda Root and Ciarán Hinds. In 2007, Rupert Penry Jones and Sally Hawkins took on the parts of Anne and Wentworth. As cinematic adaptations of Jane Austen’s novels go, the 1995 version of Persuasion has kept its critics at bay. For me, it is by far the superior film. In 2009, when I wrote Captain Wentworth’s Persuasion, it was Amanda Root and Ciarán Hinds that I saw in my mind’s eye as the book’s characters.
So, these are a hodge podge of my ramblings on this particular film adaptation. I would love to hear your own thoughts on this one, as well as any comments on the other versions of Persuasion. This is, after all, a movie discussion.
  • In the 1971 version, Ann Firbank is always perfectly dressed, but Nick Dear wanted Root’s portrayal to show Anne’s movement from “dowdy” to “blossoming.” It amazes me that some wanted a more more glamorous actress to play Anne. At the time (and even now), I thought Amanda Root the perfect choice.
  • Anne is portrayed as a “servant,” creating sympathy for her character. At Uppercross, she picks up toys and tends to the injured Little Charles. At Kellynch Hall, it is Anne who holds the keys to the house, very much as a housekeeper might. She catalogues the house’s belongings.
  • Roger Michell uses several close ups of Anne, but they often off center. This makes the viewer see her as out of sync with her family.
  • We never see Sir Walter in a natural setting, whereas Wentworth and Croft are.
  • There is a sharp contrast between the sterile Kellynch Hall and the welcoming “home” of the Musgroves.
  • Nick Dear creates a “caustic” Elizabeth Elliot, as she sprawls on her chair, laughs too loudly, and talks with her mouth full. This is one area that is often criticized in the film. This Elizabeth Elliot is less “ladylike” than the one presented by Austen.
  • When Anne travels to Uppercross, she is deglamorized by riding with a pig and a goose in the open cart.
  • Like we noted previously with Colin Firth’s character, Root is often shown staring out windows, essentially distancing herself from the others. She is preoccupied and uncomfortable.
  • The scene where creditors crowd around Mr. Shepherd creates a sense of chaos. This is achieved through hand held tracking shots and a swish pan. Usually movement indicates strength and vitality, but not in this case.
  • Besides establishing the historical context of the film, the “invented” opening sequence with Admiral Croft and the sailors rowing in unison is a powerful contrast to the indolence shown by Sir Walter at Kellynch Hall.
  • The characters remain seated at Kellynch. There is no movement. It is a “dying” culture.
  • We see the same “staleness” in the Elliots’ Bath residence. Hand held tracking shots show them lounging on chaises longues.
  • Nick Dear describes the scene where Anne, dressed in white and sitting among the sheet-covered furniture at Kellynch, as a “shroud for a dead house.”
  • In the Kellynch dining room, the vast, over-decorated table dwarfs the Elliots.
  • The ship’s ward room is small, dark, and smoky, and it is filled with action-filled officers. A single, tight circling shot relays the cohesiveness of the group. This is in contrast to the previous dining room scene. The ward room’s table is covered with various hats all tossed together, indicating the group’s solidarity. Sir Walter’s table holds the iced-swan sculpture.
  • A lack of real substance is shown in Lady Dalrymple’s caked on makeup and the use of backlighting.
  • Only a “letter folded up into a paper boat” and concealed inside a copy of “the Navy List, 1806″ elicits any emotional response from Anne while she is at Kellynch.
  • The sun lights Anne’s face for the first time when she arrives at Uppercross.
  • The swiftly moving paper boats are bringing Anne to her future. These boats are made for the children by Admiral Croft, a direct connection to Wenworth.
  • The high angle swish pan shot of Wentworth’s desperate attempt to catch Louisa indicates his being out of step on land.
  • Wentworth is separated from Anne by a table and three seated figures when she looks out the window for Mr. Elliot. There is a “gulf” between them.
  • Nick Dear’s Anne is more assertive than the one in Austen’s novels. This plays to the more modern female viewer. She chases Wentworth from the concert room, sharply answers her father’s criticsm of Mrs. Smith, blocks Wentworth’s path in the Octagon Room, snipes at both Lady Russell and Wentworth when they question her marrying Mr. Elliot, and accepts Wentworth’s kiss on the the crowded street.
  • We have a shot of Anne looking backwards at Kellynch. This leads to a lengthy pan shot bringing Uppercross into view. Austen does not give us the feeling of Kellynch being the past. This scene does.
  • The camera shot of Anne’s face at Uppercross Cottage shows her pensiveness. We see her only in the cloudy mirror. This indicates her isolation.
  • To show her leanness and her desperation, Anne is seen early on in loose-fitting dresses and large cloaks. In Bath, Anne wears form-fitting pelisses and spencers.
  • In the 1971 version, Bryan Marshall wears Regency civilian wear, but Ciarán Hinds portrays the rugged, self-made man in his naval attire.
  • William Elliot’s character is more villainous than the Austen version.
  • This adaptation uses pieces of both of Austen’s endings for the novel. 
  • The kissing scene is sometimes criticized, but it summarizes a chapter of reflection from Austen’s novel. It shows the “lovers” making their own way in life. Their hands are clasped. (BTW, in the 1971 version, Anne and Wentworth kiss twice, but it is indoors.)
  • The final scene was filmed at Portsmouth on the HMS Victory.
  • The last shot of a ship silhouetted against a sunset is actually taken from the 1984 film, The Bounty.
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Locations for Pride & Prejudice 2005 – Majestic Houses

Posted on June 15, 2012 by Regina Jeffers

For this movie discussion, I decided to visit some of my favorite places in the UK for filming. The places below were all used in Pride and Prejudice 2005. I have also included some of the history. If you know additional facts, please chime in. Most of these facts came from http://www.infobritain.co.uk.

Groombridge Place and Enchanted Forest, Kent (Longbourn)
In 1662 by architect Philip Packer, with the help of his friend, Christopher Wren, the seventeenth century’s premier architect, built Groombridge Place. Packer’s house was built on the site of a series of former manor houses owned by wealthy nobles, including Richard Waller, who famously kept Charles Duke of Orleans at Groombridge after capturing him at the Battle of Agincourt. Completing his new house in 1662 Packer then started thinking about his garden. Beginning in 1674, Packer began designing the gardens surrounding Groombridge House He was assisted by John Evelyn, a horticulturist and famous diarist. Evelyn was a multi-talented man who showed an unusually modern concern with the problems of urban living, and a reverence for gardens as an escape from them. Evelyn conceived a series of formal gardens arranged as “outside rooms” of the house. Although Evelyn was generally formal in his gardening ideas, the sense of blurring the boundary between indoors and outdoors was actually a theme that would emerge once again in the 20th Century. Some of Evelyn’s garden rooms at Groombridge also preempted modern design in creating an artfully “natural” landscape. The Secret Garden is the best example. It is suggested that this was Packer’s favourite garden. He is supposed to have died here in 1686 while reading a book.

Basildon Park, Berkshire (Netherfield Park)
Building of Basildon Park began in 1776 under Francis Sykes’ tutelage. A farmer’s son, who joined the British East India Company to make his fortune to support his political career, Sykes became governor of Kazimbazar. Returning to England in 1771 a rich man, Sykes bought the Basildon estate. Although facing financial difficulties, he managed to win a baronetcy and to become an MP. Sykes struggled on with the building of his grand house, in a palladian style, which was already going out of fashion. When Sykes died in London in 1804, Basildon Park remained unfinished. Sykes’ son inherited the property, but he too died within a few weeks, and the new owner, Sykes’ grandson, Francis Sykes the third baronet, was only five years old. With little money, ownership somehow remained with the boy, who at age 14 started entertaining Prince George at the house. Prince George was famously dissolute, and Sykes’ association with him only drained the family fortune further. With the family in a state of financial turmoil, Basildon Park was offered for sale. Just for good measure, personal turmoil was also thrown into the mix, when Sykes’ wife Henrietta started having an affair with future Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli. Henrietta also had an affair with the painter Daniel Maclise. When her husband denounced Maclise he broke the unwritten rule that such goings on in high society should be kept discreet. As a result, Charles Dickens, a friend of Maclise, decided to use the name Bill Sykes for a villainous character in a new book he was writing. Oliver Twist, complete with Bill Sykes, was published in 1838, and Francis Sykes was humiliated. He finally sold Basildon Park that year.

Burghley, Lincolnshire (Rosings Park)
Burghley is perhaps the grandest of all England’s sixteenth century Elizabethan houses, capturing the drama and other-worldly spirit of that time. Lord Burghley, William Cecil, Treasurer to Elizabeth I, and her most influential advisor, directed its structure. His grand house is like others of the period, Longleat or Wollaton Hall for example, except Burghley just had more of everything. In fact it may claim to be the definitive grand house of late Tudor England. Burghley, like most great properties, housed lavish collections of art and valuable objects. The Heaven Room became Lady Catherine’s drawing room in the 2005 film. The fifth Earl, Lord Exeter, commissioned the Italian artist Verrio to paint the murals on the wall and ceiling. There is a Hell Staircase leading to this room. Owned by a family trust, Lady Victoria Leatham, daughter of the Marquis of Exeter, the medal-winning Olympic runner portrayed in Chariots of Fire, manages the estate. (As footnote,s the late Ian Charleson, who played Exeter in the film, has a RSC Award named after him. Matthew Macfadyen previously was nominated for the award. Also, Lady Victoria appears regularly on Antiques Roadshow.) Burghley has been used as a location for a number of films including Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth, the Golden Age, and The DaVinci Code.

Chatsworth, Derbyshire
Chatsworth is home to the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire. Since Chatsworth was first built in the early sixteenth century, it has been closely involved with religious disputes that have shaped Britain into modern times. Elizabeth Hardwick, and her husband Sir William Cavendish, treasurer to Henry VIII, built Chatsworth. When the king decided to marry Anne Boleyn, he needed to escape the influence of the pope who refused to grant Henry a divorce from his first wife Catherine of Aragon. In the upheaval of the Reformation that followed, huge amounts of money were taken from dissolved Catholic monasteries. From 1532 onwards a significant amount of this appropriated money went to Sir William Cavendish. He was made First Earl of Devonshire, and Chatsworth benefited from William’s newfound wealth. The Earls of Devonshire remained Protestant champions thereafter. Protestant Elizabeth I held the Catholic Mary Queen of Scots prisoner at Chatsworth on a number of occasions between 1569 and 1584.

Wilton House, Wiltshire (Mr. Darcy’s music room at Pemberley, where Elizabeth first meets Georgiana)
Wilton has been linked to royalty since early Anglo Saxon times. A nunnery was founded here, which figures quite frequently in Anglo Saxon royal history. The twelfth century saw the nunnery at Wilton being replaced by a Benedictine abbey, which was disbanded during Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries. In 1542 Henry VIII granted the abbey and its lands to William Herbert, whose descendents, the Earls of Pembroke, still own Wilton. A year after acquiring his new property William Herbert began creating a Tudor house, incorporating parts of the old abbey. This house was famous during Tudor times as the residence of Mary Sidney, sister of Elizabethan poet Sir Philip Sidney. In the 1630s the 4th Earl of Pembroke commissioned Inigo Jones to re-model Wilton House in a Palladian style. The Double Cube Room used in the film is an example of the style. Many films have used Wilton House as a location including The Young Victoria, Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, The Madness of King George, Mrs Brown, and The Bounty.

Haddon Hall, Derbyshire (the inn at Lambton)
Originally built as a fortified manor house in the eleventh century, Haddon Hall belonged to the Vernon family, and then passed by marriage to the powerful Manners family. In 1703 John Manners, 9th Earl of Rutland left Haddon Hall, and went to live at the Manners family seat at Belvoir Castle in Leicestershire. A long period of neglect followed for Haddon Hall. For over two hundred years it lay in a kind of suspended animation in an almost unaltered sixteenth century condition. A lesser house would have fallen down, but this was a strong stone built, fortified manor house. The empty house endured through the centuries until the 1920s when the 9th Duke of Rutland visited his long forgotten family property and realised how important it was. With the help of a restoration expert named Harold Brakspear the building was restored, not as a building representing a single time period, but more as a building that had accreted layers like sedimentary rock over long periods of time. There are small sections that date to the eleventh century, but there are also parts of the building which date to rebuilding between the thirteenth and early seventeenth centuries.
With Haddon Hall illustrating a long period in history it is fitting that the house is often used as a film location for historical film and drama. Haddon Hall has been used for The Princess Bride(1986), Jane Eyre (1996), Elizabeth (1998), and Pride and Prejudice (2005).

Stourhead, Wiltshire (location of The Temple of Apollo used for the first proposal scene)
Henry Hoare, whose father, Sir Richard Hoare had made his fortune in banking, built Stourhead between 1717 and 1725. Stourhead and the banking fortune, which created it, date from a financial revolution that accompanied the Glorious Revolution of 1688. After 1688, British monarchs were obliged to work within the constitution set out by Parliament. Now debt run up by the country became the “national debt.” Debt became increasingly accepted, and this new attitude was one of the reasons Britain became such a powerful country in the 18th century. The gardens at Stourhead illustrate the worldwide power that Britain began to enjoy following the financial revolution. It became increasingly fashionable to have exotic foreign plants in gardens, brought back from countries under British influence. The estate is huge, and includes King Alfred’s Tower, a folly of monumental proportions. This fifty meter high building lies at the end of a long coach track leading away from the house. It commemorates King Alfred’s victory over the Danes in 878 A.D. Stourhead remained with the Hoare family until 1946. Henry Hoare, the Sixth Baronet lost his only son during World War One, and a year before his own death in 1947, he gave Stourhead to the National Trust.

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“X” Doesn’t Mark the Spot – Or Why Jane Austen Does Not Use Words Beginning With “X”

Posted on June 14, 2012 by Regina Jeffers

Recently, I spent a delightful morning counting words in Pride and Prejudice. Why? You may ask: Regina, do you not have enough to do with your retirement years than to sit around counting how many times Jane Austen used the word “sex” in this novel? (That would be seven times, by the way.) The truth is I am a bit OCD about some things. (Okay, I’m a lot OCD at times, but not as afflicted as my friend Brooke who turns all the paperclips in the holder on her desk in the same direction. Yet, that is another story.) Counting and numbers actually are distracting. It exercises the other side of my brain, and on that particular day, I had hit a wall with my latest novel (entitled The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy). I had three possible scenarios for endings, and I could not make up my mind, which one would play out the best. Of course, choosing the ending affected the events I would choose early on in the storyline. My writing was at a stand still. I had already counted the comments on Austen Authors. (Yes, that is one of my glorious duties as the person who runs the contests on that site.) Therefore, I turned my attention to the post I had yet to write for my own blog.

Looking back at my three part series of “Do You Speak Jane Austen?” on https://reginajeffers.wordpress.com, I needed to find a word or two in Austen’s writings that began with the letter “X.” I was soon to find out that “X” as the beginning letter was quite elusive. I scanned Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and Mansfield Park. No “X” words were to be found. However, that doesn’t mean that our Jane never used the letter. On the contrary, 158 different words containing the letter “X” are used within Pride and Prejudice alone.

The most commonly used word containing “x” was “next,” and I shall take great pleasure in telling my editor, who seems to frown on the word, that Jane Austen used “next” one and seventy times in Pride and Prejudice. Other “X” words that our Jane used repeatedly were “expected” (43); “expect” (35); “exactly” (30); “exceedingly” (27); “expressed” (25); “anxious” (25); “express” (to mean both “to state” and “the mail”) (24); “expression” (22); “fixed” (22); “except” (22); and “excellent” (20).

 Jane was also quite fond of “expectation” (19); “anxiety” (18); “extraordinary” (17); “excuse” (used both as a noun and a verb) (16); “extremely” (14); “excessively” (11); “expressions” (11); “vexation” (10); and “excited” (10). Of course, there are the variations of each of these words:
“vexing” (1); “vex” (1); “vexed” (8); “vexatious” (2): “vexations” (1); “exceeding” (1); “exceeded” (2); “exceed” (2); “expectations” (7); “expecting” (8); “expects” (1); “expecting” (1); “excepting” (4); “fixing” (2); “fix” (3); “inexpressibly” (1); “expressing” (3); “inexpressible” (1); “expressly” (1); “expressed” (1); “expressively” (1); “anxiously” (1); “excessive” (4); “excess” (2); “excellency” (1) “unexpected” (8); “unexpectedly” (3); “excuses” (2); and “extreme” (4).

However, some of my favorite finds had nothing to do with Austen’s repeating of these common words. Instead, I enjoyed finding “Oxford” (1), “annexed” (1), “exigence” (1), “bandbox” (1), “beaux” (1), “proxy” (1), “expostulation” (1), “exercise” (6), “exertion” (9), and “foxhounds” (1). Another thing I noted (minus the deep scientific study I should have executed) is that Austen seems to use the number “six” quite often in her writing. In Pride and Prejudice, she used “six” ten times, “sixth” once, and “sixteen” seven times. I laughingly told myself it was because our dear Jane had to handwrite her stories (which you might recall is an act in my writing process) and “six” is much shorter to write than say “seven” or “eight.” That reasoning died away when I thought of the words “one,” “two,” and “ten.” Perhaps, “six” was Austen’s lucky number. After all, in Mandarin, “six” is good for business and can mean happiness. Did our Jane anticipate her literary success by using the number “six” often? Yes, it is used multiple times in Sense and Sensibility also. Or, mayhap, I am simply looking for a good story behind all this counting. My mathematical brain is now assuaged. (Did I ever tell you that I began college as a math major? Eventually, I switched to language arts, and the rest is history.) Hopefully, some of you are also both right and left brained and can understand my need to be whole brained in my daily life. If not, you will continue to see me as quite eccentric. [By the way, if one is looking for more delicious Jane Austen words, check out the Jane Austen Thesaurus (http://writelikeausten.com/).]

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The Absentee King – Richard, the Lionheart

Posted on June 13, 2012 by Regina Jeffers

Richard I (8 September 1157 – 6 April 1199) was King of England from 6 July 1189 until his death. He also ruled as Duke of Normandy, Duke of Aquitaine, Duke of Gascony, Lord of Cyprus, Count of Anjou, Count of Maine, Count of Nantes, and Overlord of Brittany at various times during the same period. He was known as Cœur de Lion, or Richard the Lionheart, even before his accession, because of his reputation as a great military leader and warrior. The Saracens called him Melek-Ric or Malek al-Inkitar – King of England.

Plantagents

By the age of sixteen, Richard was commanding his own army, putting down rebellions in Poitou against his father, King Henry II. Richard was a central Christian commander during the Third Crusade, effectively leading the campaign after the departure of Philip II of France and scoring considerable victories against his Muslim counterpart, Saladin, but was unable to reconquer Jerusalem.

He was seen as a pious hero by his subjects. He remains one of the very few Kings of England remembered by his epithet, rather than regnal number, and is an enduring, iconic figure in England and France. Richard was tall and muscular and athletically built. He was also a well-educated man. A third son, Richard became King of England upon the death of his father in 1189. During Richard’s absence, William Longchamp served as Chancellor of England. However, in 1191, Longchamp falls from power, and Richard’s brother John assumed the throne. During his ten-year reign, Richard spent but seven months in England.

Richard I was officially crowned duke on 20 July 1189 and king in Westminster Abbey on 3 September 1189. When he was crowned, Richard barred all Jews and women from the ceremony, but some Jewish leaders arrived to present gifts for the new king. According to Ralph of Diceto, Richard’s courtiers stripped and flogged the Jews, then flung them out of court.

When a rumour spread that Richard had ordered all Jews to be killed, the people of London began a massacre. Many Jews were beaten to death, robbed, and burned alive. Many Jewish homes were burned down, and several Jews were forcibly baptised. Some sought sanctuary in the Tower of London, and others managed to escape. Among those killed was Jacob of Orléans, a respected Jewish scholar. Roger of Hoveden, in his Gesta Regis Ricardi, claimed that the rioting was started by the jealous and bigoted citizens, and that Richard punished the perpetrators, allowing a forcibly converted Jew to return to his native religion. Baldwin of Forde, Archbishop of Canterbury reacted by remarking, “If the King is not God’s man, he had better be the devil’s.”

Realising that the assaults could destabilise his realm on the eve of his departure on crusade, Richard ordered the execution of those responsible for the most egregious murders and persecutions, including rioters who had accidentally burned down Christian homes. He distributed a royal writ demanding that the Jews be left alone. The edict was loosely enforced, however, and the following March there was further violence including a massacre at York.

In 1191, Richard defeated Saladin at Arsouf, near Jaffa. He forced Saladin into an agreement that would guarantee Christians safe pilgrimages to Jerusalem. However, upon his return to England, Richard was taken prisoner by Henry VI, Emperor of Germany. Henry demanded a ransom of 100,000 marks from England for Richard’s safe return. 

Richard’s ship had wrecked near Aquileia and was captured by Leopold V, Duke of Austria. On 28 March 1193, Richard was brought to Speyer and handed over to Henry VI, who was aggrieved both by the support which the Plantagenets had given to the family of Henry the Lion, and also by Richard’s recognition of Tancred in Sicily, and who imprisoned him in Trifels Castle. Henry VI, needing money to raise an army and assert his rights over southern Italy, continued to hold Richard for ransom. In response Pope Celestine III excommunicated Henry VI, as he had Duke Leopold, for the continued wrongful imprisonment of Richard.

Richard famously refused to show deference to the emperor and declared to him, “I am born of a rank which recognises no superior but God.” Despite his complaints, the conditions of his captivity were not severe.

The emperor demanded that 150,000 marks (65,000 pounds of silver) be delivered to him before he would release the king, the same amount raised by the Saladin tithe only a few years earlier, and 2–3 times the annual income for the English Crown under Richard.  Richard’s mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, worked to raise the ransom. Both clergy and laymen were taxed for a quarter of the value of their property, the gold and silver treasures of the churches were confiscated, and money was raised from the scutage and the carucage taxes. At the same time, John, Richard’s brother, and King Philip of France offered 80,000 marks for the Emperor to hold Richard prisoner until Michaelmas in 1194. The emperor turned down the offer. The money to rescue the King was transferred to Germany by the emperor’s ambassadors, but “at the king’s peril” (had it been lost along the way, Richard would have been held responsible), and finally, on 4 February 1194 Richard was released. Philip sent a message to John: “Look to yourself; the devil is loose.”

In March 1199, Richard was in the Limousin suppressing a revolt by Viscount Aimar V of Limoges. Although it was Lent, he “devastated the Viscount’s land with fire and sword.” He besieged the virtually unarmed castle of Chalus-Chabrol.

Tomb containing the heart of King Richard at Rouen Cathedral

In the early evening of 25 March 1199, Richard was walking around the castle perimeter without his chainmail, investigating the progress of sappers on the castle walls. Missiles were occasionally shot from the castle walls, but these were given little attention. One defender in particular amused the king greatly—a man standing on the walls, crossbow in one hand, the other clutching a frying pan which he had been using all day as a shield to beat off missiles. He deliberately aimed at the king, which the king applauded; however, another crossbowman then struck the king in the left shoulder near the neck. He tried to pull this out in the privacy of his tent but failed; a surgeon, called a ‘butcher’ by Hoveden, removed it, ‘carelessly mangling’ the King’s arm in the process. The wound swiftly became gangrenous. Accordingly, Richard asked to have the crossbowman brought before him; called alternatively Pierre (or Peter) Basile, John Sabroz, Dudo, and Bertrand de Gurdon (from the town of Gourdon) by chroniclers, the man turned out (according to some sources, but not all) to be a boy. This boy claimed that Richard had killed the boy’s father and two brothers, and that he had killed Richard in revenge. The boy expected to be executed; Richard, as a last act of mercy, forgave the boy of his crime, saying, “Live on, and by my bounty behold the light of day,” before ordering the boy to be freed and sent away with 100 shillings. Richard then set his affairs in order, bequeathing all his territory to his brother John and his jewels to his nephew Otto.

King John

Richard died on 6 April 1199 in the arms of his mother; it was later said that “As the day was closing, he ended his earthly day.” Due to the nature of Richard’s death, he was later referred to as ‘the Lion (that) by the Ant was slain’. According to one chronicler, Richard’s last act of chivalry proved fruitless; in an orgy of medieval brutality, the infamous mercenary captain Mercadier had the crossbowman flayed alive and hanged as soon as Richard died.

Richard’s heart was buried at Rouen in Normandy, the entrails in Chalus (where he died) and the rest of his body was buried at the feet of his father at Fontevraud Abbey in Anjou.

A 13th-century Bishop of Rochester wrote that Richard spent 33 years in purgatory as expiation for his sins, eventually ascending to Heaven in March 1232.

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How To Avoid Writing Disasters

Posted on June 13, 2012 by Regina Jeffers

7 THINGS THAT WILL DOOM YOUR NOVEL (& HOW TO AVOID THEM)

There are a lot of ways not to do something.

Like the new boat owner a few years ago who was filling up his pleasure craft with fuel for that first time out. Only he mistook the tube meant to hold fishing poles for the gas tank. After completing his work he started up the engine.

The gas fumes ignited and blew the boat owner into the sky. He came down in the drink and was rescued, but the boat was a goner.

You can be just as creative in finding ways not to write your novel. With a little thought and not much effort, you can easily devise methods to prevent yourself from actually finishing a book—or finishing a book that has a chance to sell.

So if not finishing or not selling are your goals, I’m here to help you with the following seven tips:

1. Wait for inspiration.

2. Look over your shoulder.

3. Ignore the craft.

4. Keep a chip on your shoulder.

5. Write for the market only.

6. Take as many shortcuts as possible.

7. Quit

For the complete article, visit Writers Digest at http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/7-things-that-will-doom-your-novel-how-to-avoid-them?et_mid=560336&rid=232481818

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