S&S Read-Along: Ch. 49 & 50

Here we are!  All done! 

Whew.  All's well that ends well.  I'm sorry if you were expecting a big, romantic proposal scene, but Austen tends not to indulge in those.  She's more interested in the overall relationships of the characters with each other, I think, and not just here for the kissy stuff.  For which I am very appreciative, overall.  I'm not a big fan of the kissy stuff either.

Anyway, I chuckled a lot over these last two chapters.  Austen gets pretty feisty, doesn't she?  Poking fun at Edward's habit of getting engaged to young ladies without consulting his mother.  And the whole opening of the last chapter made me laugh aloud multiple times, about Edward being "resuscitated" because his mother decided to forgive and reinstate him, and so on.  Oh, man.  That was pretty priceless.  And then she gets a little snarky at how Colonel Brandon never measures up to Marianne's original ideal of a Romantic Hero... but it's okay, because Marianne grows to love him anyway.  Awww.

Some interesting monetary information from the notes in my annotated copy, as to how much Elinor and Edward will have to live on.  His mother gives him ten thousand pounds, and the notes say this "would produce five hundred a year in income."  Edward also is expecting about two hundred and fifty pounds a year from his 'living.'  Also, Edward had two thousand pounds of his own, and Elinor had one thousand, which together would give them another one hundred and fifty income every year (you just live off the interest of your money, basically).  So, all told, "their income would be nine hundred a year" (p. 699).  Waaaaaaaaaay at the beginning of the book, Elinor said she thought a young couple would require a thousand pounds a year to be undoubtedly happy, so she's not quite going to make it to that amount at this time, but she's certainly going to be comfortably off.

And that's it!  We're done!  I'm working on my celebratory giveaway post now, and I'll have that up as soon as I get it finished.  This evening, I hope!

Thank you, everyone who participated.  This was a lot of fun for me, and I hope it was for you too!  Don't worry, you can keep discussing this for as long as you like.  In fact, here are a couple final discussion questions:

1.  Does Elinor get a character arc?  Does she change or grow over the course of this book?  Or is she just here to provide counterpoint to Marianne, making Marianne the actual heroine?

2.  Marianne + Col. Brandon -- do you love their pairing, or not?  And why?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 47 & 48

So Much Suspense!  I don't know about you, but I really didn't want to stop reading at the end of chapter 48, so I am going to try to post this quick, read the last two chapters, and post about them today too.  Because yikes, the end of 48 is a wretched place to stop.

I love this line about Elinor's thinking process:  "Reflection had given a calmness to her judgment, and sobered her opinion of Willoughby's deserts" (p. 650).  Not only is it important not to make snap judgments, but it's also important to realize that our emotions can be swayed by a forceful personality, and those emotions can affect our reason.  When Willoughby is present and pleading his case, even Elinor can't quite resist his charm.  But when he's gone, she takes the time to think over what she now knows about him, and his claims, and can see them much more clearly.  Something for us all to remember and try to follow!

I'm really happy for Marianne, that she realizes that even if she had married Willoughby, she would not have been happy with him forever.  She would eventually, inevitably have learned about his seduction and abandonment of Eliza, and she would have lost all respect and even love for him.  I think this must be of a great comfort for her, realizing she hasn't missed out on lasting happiness and love.

In fact, she realizes that her own happiness "never was his object" (p. 654).  He was thoroughly selfish in his love, only caring about how it made him feel, not about how it would affect her.  Another important lesson for us, to be careful not to give our love to those who care only about their own happiness and well-being, not our own.  In fact, I personally feel like that's one way you can tell if a relationship could last -- do both people in it put the other person's welfare and interests above their own?  (And if they both put God first, the other person second, and themselves last, then I think you've got an unbeatable romance there.)

(SPOILERS BELOW!)

And then, their servant drops the big bomb.  Miss Lucy Steele is now Mrs. Lucy Ferrars.  Dun-dun-dun.  (At least we didn't end with THAT chapter!)  Happily, neither the Dashwoods nor ourselves are left in the misunderstanding of which Mr. Ferrars Lucy married -- not for long, anyway.  Edward arrives, announces that he's unmarried, but Lucy has married Robert, and then off he goes because honestly, that's enough news for one day, am I right?

What does Elinor do?  Does she go into hysterics?  No, that's Marianne, and she's not even the one involved in this love quadrangle!  Elinor *almost* runs out of the room (running was unladylike, especially in the house, so she maintains proper behavior even now) and closes the door behind her... and then "burst into tears of joy, which at first she thought would never cease" (p. 670).  Final, definite proof that it's not that Elinor doesn't feel deeply, but that she "will be mistress" of herself (p. 666).  No one is going to control her by playing on her emotions, the way Willoughby preyed on Marianne -- she controls her emotions herself, so no one else can.  

Yeah, I don't want to stop here, so I'm going to read the next couple chapters as soon as my kids finish school.  Here's hoping I have time to post about them yet today too.  And then... the giveaway!  And we'll be done!

Discussion Questions:

1.  Do you think Willoughby will continue to regret losing Marianne, or is he going to move on pretty quickly?

2.  Did you just read straight on to the end instead of stopping here? 

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 45 & 46

We only have four chapters left after this!  Only two more posts!  Oh my goodness.  Well, I suppose I should mention right now that I'll be holding a small giveaway when we finish this, with Austen-inspired goodies and so on.  Just in case you need something to look forward to ;-)

Right, so, on to the chapters at hand.  Elinor is clearly a better person than I am.  She is way more willing to think of good things to remember about Willoughby than I would be.  So, um, good for her.

I do get a little annoyed that Mrs. Dashwood is almost acting like Edward never existed, though.  Like, she never commiserates with Elinor about losing him.  At all.  I get that she's focused on Marianne's brush with death, but she takes time to discuss Willoughby.  Not Edward, though.  Poor Elinor.  Not that she probably wants her mom to really talk about him much, but it would be nice to know she cares and sympathizes, you know?

It's struck me, this time through the book, that Marianne has gotten a way bigger character arc than Elinor.  She started out indulging her every passion and refusing to take time to think anything through, and now she's learned to be calm and reasonable.  She's learned and grown.  But what's Elinor's arc?  I know we're not to the end of the book yet, but so far, Elinor started out reasonable and self-controlled, and she's still reasonable and self-controlled.  Hmm.

Discussion Questions:

1.  Do you think Marianne will stick to her resolution to "divide every moment between music and reading" (p. 640) all summer?

2.  Do you agree with Marianne when she says, "My own feelings had prepared my sufferings" (p. 644)?  If she had behaved less passionately, would her suffering have been any less?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 43 & 44

But wait!  There's more!  Now, in the space of only two chapters, you can get a near-deadly illness AND a visit from a self-absorbed ex-lover!  All for the low, low price of learning to understand your actions and the people around you.  Act now, Marianne, before these opportunities are gone for good!

Um, so, yeah.  Exciting times in these two chapters, eh?  First, Marianne almost succumbs to a terrible fever, which Mrs. Jennings suspects is a "putrid" fever.  My annotated copy says that means she thinks she probably thinks it's typhus.  So you can understand why Mrs. Palmer evacuates her baby as swiftly as possible!  They did understand that being near a sick person could spread that disease to you, even if germs weren't quite understood yet at this time.

And once again, hurrah for Mrs. Jennings!  I love how she, "with a kindness of heart which made Elinor really love her, declared her resolution of not stirring from Cleveland as long as Marianne remained ill" (p. 574).  What an absolute wonder she is. 

Oh, quick note about them calling the apothecary for Marianne, since my mom asked me what was up with that.  According to the annotated edition, "The apothecary was the most basic medical practitioner, who would respond to normal illnesses, give advice, and prescribe medicines" (p. 573).  Elsewhere, it explains that when someone got sick, you would first try home remedies, and most women had at least some experience nursing ill people because most illnesses would be treated at home.  And home remedies were generally about as effective as a doctor's for most things, honestly.  

So you would maybe call an apothecary to get some medicines or remedies you didn't have on hand, but you only called a physician in very extreme cases.  Physicians had attended school to learn medicine, and they treated illnesses, but didn't do surgery.  Surgeons did surgery, and they tended to have the most medical training, but they didn't treat illnesses, just did things like stitching up wounds and amputating limbs and other surgical things.  ANYWAY, that's why they called the apothecary, who was kind of like our pharmacists today, but did house calls?  And why they talk about sending for an actual physician when Marianne gets worse.  They probably would have had to send to a large town or even to London to get one of those.

But all within a few pages, the danger is past and Marianne is recovering, whew.  I'm really glad Austen doesn't drag this out for chapter after chapter.  Aren't you?  I think that could be a big temptation for an author to milk the illness for lots of drama, but Austen knows their lives are dramatic enough already without a prolonged illness.

And then she just tosses Willoughby into the very end of the chapter, like *BOOM!* 

And now, yeah, any shred of sympathy I might maybe have been feeling for Willoughby are completely blown out of sight by his absolute self-absorbtion.  Notice that he's not here to check on Marianne and make sure she's okay, or even to ask how she's doing.  He's only here because he can't bear the idea that she might die while thinking badly of him.  Everything he says is focused on himself, his feelings, his desires.  It's a giant pity party he tries to disguise as concern for Marianne, and I am just... done with him.  He even flat out says that the reason he came himself instead of just writing a letter was because it "was necessary to [his] own pride" (p. 604).  So at least he's self-aware enough to realize that, but still.  Ugh.

Elinor is pretty done with him too, I think.  She even scolds him, pointing out, "You have made your own choice.  It was not forced on you.  Your wife has a claim to your politeness, to your respect" (p. 614).  From Elinor, that's a pretty fierce scolding.

And here we are again, with people making Elinor relay news for them.  Prevously, Colonel Brandon asked her to tell Marianne all his revelations about Willoughby's mistreatment of his ward.  Then he asks Elinor to offer the living at Delaford to Edward.  And now Willoughby wants Elinor to tell Marianne he really did love her and never intended to seduce her.  Poor Elinor!  All these hard messages to relate.  Yeesh.

Anyway.  Good-bye, Willoughby, and good riddance.

Discussion Questions: 

1.  Why do people keep making Elinor give other people messages and news?

2.  Do you have any sympathy left for Willoughby by now?  Do you think I'm being too harsh on him?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 41 & 42

And now, for something completely different:  Lucy says nice things to and about Elinor!  And then reverts to being conniving and greedy, secretly planning to mooch milk and eggs off Colonel Brandon's estate once she and Edward are married and living near him.  Pardon me while I roll my eyes very far back into my head like a twelve-year-old.

I had to chuckle over John Dashwood saying, "I am convinced that there is a vast deal of inconsistency in almost every human character (p. 548).  Um, yeah, way to describe yourself there, dude.  But at least he's been friendly and polite to Elinor and Marianne all along, not shunning them while Elinor had a chance with Edward, only to try to make friends with them now.  I guess his greatest inconsistency is in not being able to see how unfair his wife and mother-in-law have been, and thinking he's been totally fair and generous himself.

Also, Elinor makes some very icily sarcastic remarks to her half-brother that go way over his head, which makes me laugh too.

Anyway, off we go to Cleveland, as in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, not the city in Ohio.  Where you will probably be shocked to discover that Marianne does not catch a terrible cold by wandering off in a storm to recite poetry while staring at Willoughby's home.  She also does not get carried home in a downpour by a heroic Colonel Brandon.  That's one of the biggest deviations from the book that Emma Thompson did in her screenplay for the 1995 film, but since it makes such a nice parallel to Willoughby's first entrance in the story and gives Brandon something very manly to do, I never mind it at all.  But here, Marianne just gets chilled sitting around in the damp grass while indulging her passion for dead leaves.

I'm struck by Austen's description of Marianne once again insisting on being unhappy.  She writes, "In such moments of precious, of invaluable misery, she rejoiced in tears of agony to be at Cleveland" (p. 564).  Oh, come on, Marianne, stop making yourself miserable on purpose!!!

Discussion Questions:

1. Are you starting to lose patience with Marianne's rejoicing in self-perpetuated agony?

2. Are you like Marianne in that she "had the knack of finding her way in every house to the library" (p. 566)?

3. Are you surprised that Mr. Palmer is "very capable of being a pleasant companion" (p. 568)?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 39 & 40

Well, finally!  Something goes right for somebody!  Isn't Colonel Brandon just the sweetest, most thoughtful man?  Offering this "living" to Edward, whom he barely knows, simply because he sympathizes with the injustice of parents interfering in the love lives of their children.  Of course, Brandon has no way of knowing that he's actually hurting his friend Elinor by this, because now Edward will be able to marry Lucy instead of putting off the marriage because of insufficient money to support a wife.  But Brandon doesn't know Elinor loves Edward, he just knows Edward is a friend of hers, and he thinks this means Elinor will be glad to see her friend have a home and a way to earn a living.

Which, you see, is the trouble with being SO guarded of your feelings as Elinor is -- you may end up getting hurt by people who are trying to be kind to you because they don't know what your feelings and thoughts are.  Better to be a little less reserved, at least with those you can trust, I think.

Here's a little aside from my annotated edition:  although several characters her believe that a clergyman who makes only 200 pounds a year is too poor to marry, that's actually a bit more than Jane Austen's father was making as a clergyman when he married her mother.  So it might not be enough to live well, but it's do-able.  

The whole thing where Mrs. Jennings and Elinor misunderstand each other is pretty funny, isn't it?  And it goes on just long enough, but stops before it becomes tiresome and ceases to be funny.  At least, I think so.

Quick note:  I'm so sorry I'm very behind on replying to comments and discussing this book with you!  The last two weeks have been ridiculously busy, and I have had almost no time to do even ordinary internet things like check my email.  I'm trying to fit blogging in, but even that has been tough, as evidenced by my posting this at 10:30 on a Friday night.  Next week should be much calmer!  So I promise I'm not ignoring y'all!  I will reply when life has settled down again!

Discussion Questions:

1.  Did you think the misunderstanding about what Colonel Brandon was asking Elinor was funny?

2.  Do you think it's better to marry sooner and be kind of poor, or put off marrying a few years until you will be more comfortably off?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 37 & 38

And so, the secret is out.  Finally.  Anyone else breathing a huge sigh of relief on behalf of Elinor because she doesn't have this awful secret hanging over her head anymore?  Whew.  Even though it means Edward is firmly and publicly engaged to Lucy Steele now, which is sad for both Elinor and Edward, it's just... got to be a big relief to have it known.

Random note:  the "Nancy" they keep mentioning is the elder Miss Steele, the one with the fixation on some doctor.  Her first name is Anne, but Nancy was a common nickname for Anne at that time.  So if you were reading along and suddenly went, "Who in the world is this Nancy person?" now you know.

I find this line so... illuminating?  Enlightening?  Interesting?  Something:

"But unwelcome as such a task must be, it was necessary to be done, and Elinor therefore hastened to perform it" (p. 482).

Elinor does not avoid necessary tasks just because they're annoying or unwelcome.  She hurries up and does them.  Are you that way?  Because I totally am not, usually.  I will put off an annoying or unwelcome task, like telling someone bad news or sweeping the kitchen or taking out the compost, for as long as I can by coming up with other tasks to do first.  But not Elinor.  Rip off the bandage and get it over with, that's her philosophy, maybe?

Anyway, Elinor here gets to state something that we see over and over again in Jane Austen's books, which I quite agree with:

"And after all, Marianne, after all that is bewitching in the idea of a single and constant attachment, and all that can be said of one's happiness depending entirely on any particular person, it is not meant -- it is not fit -- it is not possible that it should be so (p. 486/88).

I heartily agree.  I think if you're depending on one human being to make you happy, you're in for a lot of disappointment.  I have a loving, affectionate, happy marriage that has lasted nearly 19 years... but I do not depend on my husband to make me happy.  I have friends, he has friends, we both have dearly loved family members -- we are not each others' whole worlds.  And if we had not met, I feel sure God could have led us to other people we could have been very happy with too.  I think happiness in marriage is a blessing, but also largely a choice and a decision that two people make -- we like each other, so we shall be happy together.  And we keep on working to promote each others' happiness, but not insisting that our own happiness must be entirely supplied by them and them alone.  

Anyway.  That got long-winded.  Clearly, I have Many Thoughts on that subject.

Discussion Questions:

1.  Are you like Elinor, and like to get unpleasant, yet needful, tasks over as fast as you can?

2.  Do you agree that it's not possible/healthy for one's happiness to depend entirely upon one particular person?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 35 & 36

Okay, not only is Lucy a poisonous little viper, she's entirely delusional.  She's completely convinced herself that Mrs. Ferrars and Fanny Dashwood truly like her for who she is, and absolutely oblivious to the fact that they were only being nice to her to spite Elinor.  Which, honestly, is hilarious.  Oh. My. Word.

Of course, Fanny inviting Lucy and her sister to stay with them is only going to encourage Lucy in this notion.  Which is understandable.  And I have to say, Fanny and Lucy are a fun pair to watch because they're both so determinedly insincere, both saying nice things and not meaning them at all.

But I really can't stand either of them.

Also, so, is it terribly mean of me to absolutely love the scene where Edward walks in on Fanny and Elinor chatting and we have The Most Awkward Five Minutes in British Literary History ever?  It's really horrible for all of them... and yet it makes me laugh.  Especially the bit where "Edward seemed to have as great an inclination to walk out of the room again, as to advance farther into it" (p. 448).  It's horribly embarrassing for everyone except Lucy Steele... but honestly, I end up just feeling really proud of Elinor through the whole ordeal, and laugh at Lucy for being such a prim little minx and behaving rather badly by being "determined to make no contribution to the comfort of others" (p. 450) and not participating in the conversation.  That's terribly rude, and I know Edward sees her that way.

By the time I got to the bit where "Edward muttered something, but what it was, nobody knew, not even himself" (p. 452), I couldn't help laughing aloud.  I'm grinning at it even now.  Wow.  How does Austen make a scene that's so ridiculously awkward also be so funny and even enjoyable?

Chapter 36 is dull by comparison, but has some funny bits, mostly at Robert Ferrars' expense.  And Mr. Palmer's refusal to say his baby is the most beautiful baby ever made me chuckle.

Discussion Questions:

1.  Do you think Lucy Steele and Fanny Dashwood realize at all that they're both just using each other for very selfish reasons?  Or does Lucy think Fanny is actually being kind, and Fanny think Lucy actually likes her little boy and so on?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 33 & 34

You know, I was perfectly happy living my life without John and Fanny Dashwood on the scene.  How about you?  Ugh, they're just insufferable.  John going on and on about how "poor" he is, just to convince Elinor he can't help out.  Fanny and her mother only being nice to the two Steele girls and barely speaking civilly to Elinor and Marianne... just disgusting!

But wow, Austen's sarcasm is in beast mode here.  She says that Mrs. Ferrars "was not a woman of many words: for, unlike other people in general, she proportioned them to the number of her ideas" (p. 434).  Way to sock it to both Mrs. Ferrars and people in general, eh?  And then she says, of the display of wealth that John and Fanny put on, that "no poverty of any kind, except of conversation, appeared (p. 436).  Wow.  You can almost hear that one sizzle.

Austen's authorial gloves also come off regarding Lucy Steele.  She outright says that Lucy "believed herself to be inflicting a severe disappointment" (432) on Elinor when she tells her that Edward won't be at the dinner party.  And then she says that Lucy "hoped at least to be an object of irrepressible envy to Elinor" (p. 434) over how uncomfortable she is about meeting Edward's mother.  No more conjecturing about whether or not Lucy is a villainess here, eh?

Discussion Questions:

1.  Do you think Col. Brandon catches on that John thinks he's interested in Elinor?

2.  Did you laugh aloud when Elinor snarks at her half-brother John that "assisted by [Mrs. Ferrars'] liberality, I hope you may yet live to be in easy circumstances," like I did?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 31 & 32

Any kindly thoughts you may have had regarding Willoughby can now be kicked to the curb.  A pox upon him!  My goodness.  Well, now you know why he's my most-despised villain in all of Austen's books.  (Not most-hated -- that's John Thorpe from Northanger Abbey.)  I mean, it's bad enough to have jilted Marianne in favor of a rich heiress, but now we learn that he seduced, impregnated, and abandoned another seventeen-year-old girl.  Boy, did Marianne ever dodge a bullet!

And at least she's being nicer to Col. Brandon now that she knows he has the sort of melancholy and Romantic background she always finds the most interesting.  It was very hard for him to relate this painful history of himself, the girl he loved, and her daughter... but at least Marianne talks to him now.  Sometimes.

By the way, a note on the mention of Col. Brandon and Eliza meaning to elope to Scotland.  At this time, underage people could not get married without their parents' consent in England, but they could in Scotland.  And nobody was supposed to get married without going through the proper procedure of getting a license and so on, which took a couple weeks... but you could get married right away in Scotland.  So people who wanted to elope and get married quickly, especially people under the age of 21, often would try to run away together to Scotland and get married.  Such marriages were considered legal in England too, so you can see why it would be popular.  A common destination for eloping couples was a town called Gretna Green that was just over the border into Scotland, which is where the Bennets assume one of their daughters is heading when she runs off with someone in Pride and Prejudice.

Also, uh, did you catch that Col. Brandon challenged Willoughby to a duel over his treatment of Brandon's ward?  That's what he means by "we met by appointment, he to defend, I to punish his conduct.  We returned unwounded..." (p. 390).  Dueling was illegal in England at that time, according to my annotated copy, but still a fairly popular way for gentlemen and soldiers to deal with things like this that couldn't be taken before a court.  As long as you weren't caught in the act by the authorities, it was basically okay.  Also, by this time, it didn't matter if you didn't actually wound or kill your opponent -- to show up and stand up bravely while they fired a pistol at you was still proof of your courage and a way to defend your honor.

Now, Col. Brandon was, obviously, in the military.  He even served a tour in India, where little uprisings all over probably meant that he had at least participated in skirmishes.  The fact that he's a colonel means that he was either the first or second in command of his regiment.  So I feel like him NOT shooting Willoughby at all is a mark of his innate morality, that he's proved his point by calling Willoughby out and facing him, and so he forbears to actually hurt him.  Though MAN, that had to have been hard, not shooting the guy who debauched your ward AND captured the heart of the woman you love.  Wow.

Alas, Marianne sinks into depression. And UGH, Lucy Steele has returned to the narrative.  We're going to turn now away from Marianne's romantic troubles and focus on Elinor's instead.

Last thing:  I laughed aloud over this bit about Mrs. Palmer: "She was determined to drop his acquaintance immediately, and she was very thankful that she had never been acquainted with him at all" (p. 398).  Too funny!

Discussion Questions:

1.  Do you also think Col. Brandon missed Willoughby on purpose?

2.  Do you groan whenever Lucy Steele appears on the page?  Or are you kinder to her than I am?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 29 & 30

And now we enter the sad and wretched part of the book where Marianne Is As Sad As Is Humanly Possible.  All the time.  Poor thing :-(  I mean, yes, she throws herself into "excessive affliction" and "most nervous irritability" with great abandon, but she truly has reason to be heartbroken.  I mean, does anyone else here want to punch Willoughby in the face?  Hard?  Just because Marianne kind of goes overboard with the grieving doesn't mean her grief isn't real and warranted.

Here's something interesting that I learned from my annotated version:  London had its own postal system, separate from the national postal system of Great Britain, called the "two-penny post."  For two pennies, you could get a letter to anywhere in London in an hour or so.  Amazing!!! Anyway, this is how Marianne is able to send a letter to Willoughby early in the morning, probably by the 8:00 mail collection, and Willoughby gets it in time to have his reply delivered to her somewhere around 11:00.  My goodness, how speedy and efficient!  

Anyway, we get to see something very illuminating in chapter 29:  Elinor crying violently.  Which provides us with proof that she is definitely capable of experiencing strong emotions.  She just has learned how to choose when to give way to them and when to hold them inside.  Also, it shows us that she's extremely sympathetic with Marianne's plight.  She agrees that it this terrible.  Which makes Marianne's outburst toward her sister, claiming that Elinor "cannot have an idea of what I suffer" so obviously unjust.  Sigh.

As for Mrs. Jennings, I say, hurrah for her!  She may be fond of gossip and teasing, but she is an absolute brick when it comes to standing by an injured friend.  She does everything she can think of to help ease Marianne's sadness, and it's not her fault that she's so different from Marianne that nothing she can think of actually helps.  I mean, she even offers to let Marianne "name her own supper," which means she'd have to change the pre-arranged menu she'd agreed on (possibly days in advance) with her cook.  Possibly have to send someone to purchase different food.  She's willing to put herself and her staff to the expense and trouble of that, just to cheer up a girl who constantly belittles and avoids her.  Hurrah for Mrs. Jennings!

Discussion Questions:

1.  Does anyone else think that Willoughby has been exceedingly foxy and clever in having managed to never actually tell Marianne he loved her?  (At that time, declaring your romantic love to someone was considered the same as a proposal.)

2.  Do you want to say "hurrah for Mrs. Jennings" too?  Or are you more of Marianne's opinion of her?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 27 & 28

Oh, Marianne.  You poor thing.  It's not at all shocking that you're confused by Willoughby's behavior and feeling faint.  It's such a good thing that Elinor came along to London to take care of you!

It strikes me as a little... ironic?  funny? that Colonel Brandon is basically turning into the epitome of a Romantic hero, pining away for an unattainable love and making himself a bit despondent in the process... and Marianne can't see it.  Sigh.

Okay, something I learned from my annotated edition this time around, regarding shaking hands.  It says that men and women would only shake hands with someone of the opposite sex who was closely connected to them by blood or marriage, or impending marriage.  So Marianne wanting to shake hands with Willoughby shows that she basically considers herself to be engaged with him, whereas his refusal to shake hands with her is basically his rejecting any such close connection.  Which people in Austen's day would totally have understood, since this was the common rule of propriety at the time, but we don't really get, so I'm glad the book mentioned it, and I'm passing that along.

It's so interesting that Elinor feels that her own situation, of never being able to marry Edward, is now better and/or more comfortable than Marianne's, because at least she doesn't have to feel ashamed of him for doing the right thing by standing by his previous promises to Lucy Steele.  Whereas, Willoughby has dropped Marianne like a hot potato, and you just can't think well of a guy who'll do that.  It's a very small bit of comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

Discussion Questions:

1.  How do you think this would have all proceeded if Elinor had stayed home?  Would Marianne have behaved any differently?

2.  Do you think better of Lady Middleton now, because she was willing to abandon her own pursuit of entertainment to take Marianne and Elinor home early from the party?  Was this kindness, or only good manners?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 25 & 26

Hey, check it out!  We're past the halfway mark for this book!

You know, Mrs. Jennings may be a gossipy old busybody, with a tendency to use uncultured language and talk about improper subjects... but she has a good heart, and a good sense of humor too!  She's generous, kind, considerate of the physical comfort of others, and really does look after the young ladies in her care.  She gives Elinor and Marianne full permission to "laugh at my odd ways behind my back" (p. 284) and is generally just... a fun person to be around, as long as you don't have any secret sweethearts to get teased about.

According to my annotated copy, Barton would be about 175 miles from London, and if carriages and such usually traveled at a rate of about 8 miles an hour when on good roads... it would definitely take them several days to get there.  They're not just being lazy and poky.  Can you imagine spending nine or ten hours a day in a jouncing, jostling carriage?  For two and a half days?  Oh man, no wonder Elinor was a little reluctant to go!

But we get to London at last.  And are promptly visited by Colonel Brandon.  The plot proceeds apace. 

Discussion Questions:

1.  I think this is the only Austen book where the heroines get to travel to London.  But London was an exceedingly popular and important place to go.  Jane herself traveled there many times.  Any thoughts on why she didn't set more book scenes there?

2.  Have you ever traveled in a horse-drawn vehicle? 

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 23 & 24

Please note that this is the only read-along post I'll be writing this week.  I'm just too busy during Holy Week, and I suspect a lot of you are too.  We'll go back up to six chapters next week.

I've got to admit I don't have a lot to say about these two chapters.  First we have Elinor thinking about what she learned from Lucy about Edward, and then we have Elinor and Lucy discussing Lucy's situation in obliquely sly and snarky ways.  And that's that.

My annotated edition did have one really interesting thought in it that I want to share, though.  It says of Edward that "[e]ven his hesitation to choose a profession might result in part from his reluctance to take a step that, by providing him with a more regular income, would advance the day of his marriage to Lucy" (p. 255).  I had not thought of that!  Ever!  I always just thought Edward couldn't figure out what he wanted to do, but I do think this is really possible, that he's just delaying this because he can put off marrying Lucy this way.

Discussion Questions:

1.  Do you think it's possible that Edward has been delaying choosing a profession because it means he can put off marrying Lucy?

2.  If you haven't read this before, are you surprised by how much of the book revolves around monetary concerns?

That's all for this week, friends.  May you have a blessed Easter!

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 21 & 22

In which Lucy Steele waltzes into our lives and drops her bomb.

Also, I feel like this cover is pretty much the most perfect match for how I felt the first time I encountered this story.  Anyone else here pop-eyed from shock?

But, you know, at least we know now why Edward has never declared his feelings for Elinor or asked her to marry him.  It's because he's been secretly engaged to this chick for four years!  The nerve of some people!

Okay, so, I had to explain this to my husband, because he started singing that bit from The Phantom of the Opera where Raoul wonders, "Why is it secret?  What have we to hide?"  (It's been stuck in my head ever since, so it might as well be stuck in yours too.)  I figured maybe I ought to explain it here too, in case anyone else is wondering.  This is kind of a huge part of the plot, so I'm just going to dig into it.  If you know all this already, well, skim ahead to the discussion questions.

The reason people would get secretly engaged at this point in history is if one or both of them had parents who would object.  Which is totally the case here.  Mrs. Ferrars, Edward's mom, is a very ambitious woman.  We've already heard Edward talk about how she wants him to have some kind of fashionable, high-profile profession, and all he wants is to be a minister living quietly in the country somewhere.  And Fanny Dashwood, Edward's sister, warned Mrs. Dashwood that her mother has high hopes for Edward to marry someone with a good fortune of high social standing.  Elinor doesn't have either of those, and neither does Lucy Steele.  

So if, four years ago when Lucy was 19 (which is how old Elinor is now) and Edward was presumably only 18 or 19 himself, Edward and Lucy fancied themselves in love, they would get engaged secretly and not reveal their engagement until both sets of parents were more amenable to the idea, at which time they could ask their parents for permission and make the engagement public.

And why would Edward not want to do that right away?  Because his mother has the power to disinherit him and leave the family fortune to his younger brother Robert.  Which would leave Edward penniless.  And Edward, the dear boy, is just a little bit fond of living well at his mother's expense and not having to choose a profession yet.  Not only that, but Lucy is pretty obviously attached to the idea of marrying a rich husband, so she doesn't want to make the engagement public until she's sure Edward won't lose his inheritance.

Now, the trouble with secret engagements is that either party can just disavow them, or break them with little real ramification.  A public engagement is a kind of safeguard against either party backing out without the other party's consent -- the more people who know about an engagement, the more people will hold you to it.  This is why Elinor and her mom were so shocked that Marianne and Willoughby were behaving as if they were engaged, but not announcing an engagement -- neither of them really had any reason to keep it secret.

Also, by the rules of the day, since the man was the one who asked the woman to marry him, then the woman was the only one with the real power to break the engagement.  A man could ask a woman to end their engagement, but if she wanted to hold him to it, he was stuck.  Or he could break it and be considered dishonorable and disgraced.  This was a safeguard for women, who had very little real power over their own lives except in the choice of whether or not to accept a proposal and whether or not to allow an engagement to lead to marriage.  

So.  Somehow or other, Lucy got Edward to propose to her, four years ago.  She's holding onto that engagement because it's her ticket to the big-time.  She's obviously from a lower class than the Dashwoods, who are the wife and daughters of a gentleman, and undoubtedly poorer than the Ferrars, who are rich and landed gentry.  If she can marry that much higher up the social ladder, not only is she going to have a really nice life, but she can probably pass some of financial assistance on to her family, and maybe even help her old maid of a sister live a comfortable life too.  Lucy has hitched her wagon to a star, and she knows it.  

BUT.  Obviously, Lucy has heard about Elinor.  Her secret fiance has been noticeably attentive to a woman much closer to himself in class, intelligence, personality, and so on.  Elinor is competition, and Lucy won't stand for that.  So she pretends to need a confidante and an advisor in order to inform Elinor of Edward's secret engagement so Elinor will back off.  She hasn't been educated very well, but she is clever, and she is very, very devious, isn't she?  By swearing Elinor to secrecy, she's keeping Elinor from making this engagement public or telling Mrs. Ferrars about it somehow.  But she's also making her own position more secure because now, if Edward tries to break the engagement or disavow it, she can call on Elinor to witness that she knew about it.

Poor Edward is stuck with this conniving viper for a fiancee, and poor Elinor is stuck with this secret knowledge that the man she loves (and who, she is convinced, loves her) is not free to be with her.  Ugh!  And we thought Marianne's love life was a mess!

Discussion Questions:

1.  Marianne refuses to tell polite lies, and would rather be rudely silent than have to say things she doesn't mean.  Which do you prefer doing?

2.  What do you think of Edward at this point?  Was he leading Elinor on?  

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 19 & 20

Oh my goodness, the Palmers crack me up so much!  Do they make you laugh?  I was chuckling aloud several times during these two chapters.  I absolutely love how Charlotte is so determined to be happy and cheerful, and how successful she is at it.  She's not very intelligent, but she is a ray of sunshine, and I could hug her for that.

(Randomly, is this not one of the weirdest covers I have found yet?  I bet it was made in the '70s.  All '70s book covers are bizarre.)

It's very nice of the Palmers to arrive and cheer us all up after Edward's melancholy departure.  I never noticed before how much Edward's leaving mirrors Willoughby's -- both are sad about having to leave, and leave behind many questions about their behavior.  Elinor tried to convince her mother and sister not to keep excusing Willoughby's more inexplicable actions... and now she's finding all kinds of excuses for Edward's fluctuating attentions.  This does round out her character nicely, showing that she's not infallible.  

Of course, Edward has been a lot more circumspect in his behavior.  In fact, he's kind of the reverse image of Willoughby -- Willoughby was much too uninhibited, and Edward is too inhibited.  I think Austen is pointing out here that a middle ground is much better than one extreme or the other, rather like she does with Marianne being too little in control of her emotions, and Elinor sometimes too much.  

Speaking of Edward, all through his discussion of his lack of any kind of useful thing to do with his time, I kept thinking what a blessing work is.  We tend to moan and groan about work, but it's actually a blessing from God that keeps us from the emotional and physical idleness that can make us dissatisfied, even get us into trouble.  Idle young men with no need to earn their keep, like Willoughby and Edward, certainly can get themselves (and others) into an awful lot of trouble that could have been avoided if they just had something to do to occupy themselves. 

Lastly, I love Elinor's observation of Mr. Palmer that he is wishing for "distinction" that made him turn up his nose at absolutely everyone and everything.  "It was the desire of appearing superior to other people" (p. 212) that made him decide he disliked everything, not an actual fault in those things.  I was just discussing this with my bff last night, how we can't understand people who go around looking for reasons to dislike things or people, or who seem like they can't be happy unless they find something to be offended by.  It certainly sounds like a miserable way to live your life.  I really do think a lot of people have the idea that if they tell everyone how much they don't like something, it will make them seem intelligent and discerning, so they find flaws and faults in every movie, book, author, acquaintance, painting, whatever.  And it really just makes them seem petty and arrogant.  I often struggle to be patient with people like that, I'm afraid.  I often just want to roll my eyes at them and say, "Get over yourself already.  Allow yourself to enjoy things and admit it!"

Er, sorry for the little rant there.  I was just pleased to find something in our reading today that addressed that!.

Discussion Questions:

1.  Elinor thinks that Mr. Palmer's realization that he married a very silly woman has made him kind of crabby, but "she knew this kind of blunder was too common for any sensible man to be lastingly hurt by it" (p. 212).  Can you think of any other instances in Austen's books where a sensible man has married a very silly woman?  Has it hurt them?

2.  Does anyone here actually believe Col. Brandon would ever have married Charlotte (Jennings) Palmer?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 17 & 18

I love how much we get to learn about Edward Ferrars in these two chapters!  Like that he knows how to make Elinor laugh.  We finally get to hear him say more than a sentence or two, and I don't know about you, but I am charmed.  I had forgotten that he's actually kind of sarcastic!  But also kind.  He mocks Marianne about her devotion to Romantic ideals about scenery and the outdoors, but not in a mean way.  His is a self-deprecating sort of sarcasm -- he insists he just doesn't know enough about Romantic sensibilities to please her with his descriptions of scenery and so on, but at the same time, he actually shows that he has a pretty detailed knowledge of such things.

And he makes Elinor laugh.  Which is awesome.

And I love this description of himself:  "I never wish to offend, but I am so foolishly shy, that I often seem negligent, when I am only kept back by my natural aukwardness [sic]" (p. 178).  That sounds exactly like me.  I am shy and socially awkward, and so often will either say the wrong thing at the wrong moment, or not say anything and make the other person feel awkward.  I am extremely bad at small talk, especially with people I don't know well.  I will sit there thinking, "I should say something!  I should ask them a question!  What can we talk about now?  I am failing at this conversation thing again!" and just... hate on myself inside.  Ugh.  Naturally awkward and foolishly shy, that's me.

Oh, and I have totally been told I'm not shy, I'm reserved.  I think the person who said that meant that being reserved was better than just being shy, but it struck me the opposite.  I don't want people to think I'm reserved, I want them to think I'm nice!  Quiet, but nice!  Argh!  Edward, I feel your pain.

The whole thing with that ring he's wearing is very mysterious though, eh?  And he's embarrassed by it -- very different from Willoughby, who would probably be singing little songs about how on the first day of Christmas, his true love gave to him a lock of hair to wear in a ring so everyone could see it all the time.

I had to laugh aloud over this line:  "With the assistance of his mother-in-law, Sir John was not long in discovering that the name of Ferrars began with an F" (p. 188).  Like, my dude, what OTHER letter would it begin with?  Cracked me up.

Discussion Questions:

1.  Would you rather be called shy or reserved?  Have you ever been called either one?

2.  Do you identify with the idea of buying multiple copies of favorite books just to give them a good home?  (I have totally felt the urge to buy books I dearly love and already own at yard sales or thrift stores because then I would know they will be properly appreciated.  It's a weird urge, but very real.)

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 15 & 16

Turbulent times, eh?  Willoughby takes leave of everyone in an uncharacteristically constrained way, Marianne is thoroughly enjoying (in a backwards sort of way) being as miserable as possible, and now here comes Edward on a completely unexpected visit, but he's not acting particularly happy to see the family either.  Oh my goodness, so much emotional turmoil!

Notice how Willoughby's farewell is all about sparing himself pain as much as possible.  First he says, "I am suffering under a very heavy disappointment" (p. 144), but says nothing about what's caused Marianne to run weeping from the room.  Then he ends by saying, "I will not torment myself any longer by remaining among friends whose society it is impossible for me now to enjoy" (p. 146), but never mentions that staying there might be a comfort for/cause pain to Marianne.   (All emphasis mine.)  Wow.  Self-absorbed much at the moment, Willoughby?  (Also, wow, Austen is so good at subtle nuances like this that illuminate characters if we notice them!)  

Contrast his behavior with that of Marianne when Edward arrives, when "she dispersed her tears to smile on him, and in her sister's happiness forgot for a time her own disappointment" (p. 164).  Marianne may frustrate me sometimes, but she is not selfish or unfeeling toward all those around her.  In fact, she often tries to promote the happiness of others instead of focusing steadily on herself.

I do get irritated with her here, though.  She's so insistent on being miserable.  In fact, she's continually nourishing her grief.  Feeding it and coddling it and making sure it keeps on making her miserable.  I have seen people do this, and I think it's unwise at best and dangerous at worst.  It's like picking at a scab so your wound won't heal and will continue to hurt.  Healing is good.  Healing is necessary.  Let it happen.  Feel your pain, don't deny that this hurts, but don't force it to hurt more and more, longer and longer.

By the way, my annotated edition points out that Willoughby and Marianne have now known each other for about a month.  And have been acting as if they were engaged to be married for about two weeks.  In the history of whirlwind courtships, this must rank awfully high.  I'm with Elinor here (as I generally am, I freely admit) -- Marianne and Willoughby are so free and open with their expressions of their affection that if they are concealing an engagement, their secrecy is awfully suspicious.

And here's my favorite part of this whole chapter.  Elinor says, "I will not raise objections against any one's conduct on so illiberal a foundation, as a difference in judgment from myself, or a deviation from what I may think right and consistent" (p. 155-6).  In other words, she is not going to condemn something someone does simply because they think differently than she does or act differently than she does.  We need more of that kind of thinking in this world right now, y'all.  Immediately.

Discussion Questions:

1.  Have you ever enjoyed being sad, in a way?

2.  Do you share Marianne's passion for dead leaves?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 13 & 14

So much to discuss in these two chapters!  Let's get to it.  ::rubs hands eagerly::

I chuckle a bit over the description of the picnicking party assembled at Barton Park:  "They were all in high spirits and good humour, eager to be happy, and determined to submit to the greatest inconveniences and hardships rather than be otherwise" (p. 120).  Boy, if that's not a perfect description of people ready to set off on a pleasurable outing, what is?  It especially makes me think of going on field trips with our homeschool co-op.

If you're wondering why they're having breakfast all together first, and so late in the morning, my annotated edition's notes explain that 10 am "was a common breakfast time.  It resulted from the generally late hours of wealthy people... and their habit of late evening suppers" (p. 121).  Now you know.

Goodness, I could shake Mrs. Jennings for her ridiculous nosiness!  Pestering poor Colonel Brandon when he clearly has Important Things on his mind!  Grr.  And then Sir John as the effrontery to suggest, "I suppose it is something he is ashamed of" (p. 124).  More grr.  :-(  I'm not pleased by this behavior toward my avowed favorite!

So, just in case anyone here doesn't know what a "natural child" is, it's a genteel way of talking about an illegitimate child.  Mrs. Jennings is convinced that Colonel Brandon, who has never been married, has an illegitimate daughter called Miss Williams.  People were supposed to be very shocked by the idea of children born of out wedlock, and young maidens such as Marianne and Margaret, and possibly even Elinor, really weren't supposed to be aware of them, or at least not to acknowledge that they understood how an unmarried person could create a child.  It's kind of shocking that Mrs. Jennings will talk so openly about this to Elinor, who's not only unmarried, but only nineteen!  Her doing so is evidence of her enjoyment of gossip outweighing her consideration of propriety or how her words could hurt or harm even her listeners.

Anyway, isn't Elinor and Marianne's argument in chapter 13 interesting?  Elinor insists that "the pleasantness of an employment does not always evince its propriety" (p. 130), but Marianne maintains that "we always know when we are acting wrong, and with such a conviction I could have had no pleasure" (p. 130).  Once again, we're getting at the heart of this novel -- should you be ruled by your emotions, or should you use your own good sense to sift through and understand them?  Can we even trust emotions?  Should we allow our feelings to guide us, or should we guide them instead?  And if we only ever do one or the other, will that present problems?  So much to chew on here!

Okay, so Willoughby and Marianne visiting his aunt's estate basically equals him declaring he intends to marry her.  First, they were alone in a house (except for possibly some servants belonging to the house, but not any accompanying them) for a long time -- long enough to go through all the rooms.  Several hours.  That could (and does) expose Marianne in particular to gossip.  She's considered a virtuous young woman, but if she does things like that, her reputation will inevitably suffer.  However, discussing furniture with her and talking about refurnishing the rooms to Marianne's taste is basically Willoughby saying, "When we get married, this will be your home and you can change things to suit yourself."  Nobody is going to understand anything different from that.  Which is why Elinor is starting to wonder very strongly about why Marianne and Willoughby have not announced their engagement to their family and friends.  They have no reason to keep it a secret, and the longer they delay in announcing it, the more people are going to notice and wonder if there is something untoward going on.

Still, chapter 14 ends happily, with Willoughby's actions in particular "declar[ing] at once his affection and happiness."  Good place to stop for the day, eh?

Discussion Questions:

1.  Jane Austen is obviously of the opinion that feelings should not be trusted more than good sense.  Can you think of any characters in her other books who also illustrate the dangers of following your feelings rather than your sense or your conscience?

2.  Do you find it rude that Willoughby says he would rather that Mrs. Dashwood remain poor forever rather than be allowed to improve her home?  What does this tell us about him?

S&S Read-Along: Ch. 11 & 12

Boy, things are escalating quickly between Marianne and Willoughby, aren't they?  By the end of chapter 12, they are calling each other by their names without the words 'miss' or 'mister' in front of them.  That's huge.  According to the notes in my copy, that would be seen as tacitly acknowledging an engagement without formally announcing it yet.  (Now, Elinor and Edward do sometimes refer to/address each other by their first names, but that was allowed because they were sort of in-laws, since her half-brother married his sister, and that meant they would be seen as being related enough to address each other more informally, but not related by blood and thus not unable to marry each other.)

Remember how Marianne and Mrs. Dashwood convinced themselves that Elinor must be in love with Edward and basically started planning their wedding?  Just because Elinor and Edward were spending a lot of time chatting?  Well, Marianne, it's time to get a taste of your own medicine.  Only it's not just your mom and your sister assuming you must be secretly engaged to Willoughby, it's evvvvvvvverybody.  Because when you behave toward a young man the way that young ladies ONLY behave toward a young man they're engaged to, then obviously, you must be engaged to him!  This is not an entirely unexpected sort of conclusion.

Willoughby and Marianne have quite the Mutual Admiration Society going on, don't they?  Marianne decides that "[e]very thing he did, was right.  Every thing he said, was clever" (p. 100).  They dance only with each other as much as is remotely allowable.  (According to my copy's notes, there were strict rules about how often you could dance with the same partner, and dancing more than two dances in a row with the same person was basically not permitted, so they're basically just dancing twice with each other, then sitting out for the next couple dances instead of dancing with other people, and then dancing together twice again.)  They talk only to each other whenever they're together.  I'm pretty sure that Austen is making a point here about how inadvisable it is to ignore the rest of your family and friends while pursuing a romantic partner.  At the least, it's rude.  It will probably expose you to gossip.  And it might even cause estrangement from those who love you already.

Meanwhile, poor Elinor is stuck talking to the irksome Mrs. Jennings and the boring Lady Middleton.  Even though Willoughby tends to be really kind toward Elinor, he does monopolize Marianne whenever possible, which means Elinor is kind of left in the dust.  Unless Colonel Brandon is around!  Then she has someone intelligent and filled with sense to talk to, at least.  I like how well they understand each other.  And I LOVE this description of him:  "Colonel Brandon, who was on every occasion mindful of the feelings of others" (p. 116).  What. A. Prince.  (And how different from his friend, Sir John Middleton.)

Possible Discussion Questions:

1.  How do you think Marianne has reconciled her conviction that people can never fall in love a second time with the fact that her own mother was her father's second wife?

2.  If someone offered to give you a horse, would you take it?

3.  What's your opinion of Margaret right now, having told Mrs. Jennings that Elinor has a beau whose name begins with 'F' and then come to tell Elinor that Willoughby has cut off a lock of Marianne's hair?