Character Profile: Captain Wentworth

He was not Mr. Wentworth, the former curate of Monkford, however suspicious appearances may be, but a Captain Frederick Wentworth, his brother, who being made commander in consequence of the action off St Domingo, and not immediately employed, had come into Somersetshire, in the summer of 1806; and having no parent living, found a home for half a year at Monkford. He was, at that time, a remarkably fine young man, with a great deal of intelligence, spirit, and brilliancy...

Name: Captain Frederick Wentworth

Age: 31

Hobbies: We know he enjoys music and takes pleasure in company, but what he does to pass the long days at sea we have little notion.

Most Charming Qualities: His passion and a natural rhetorical genius

Most Detrimental Tendency: Resentment

Greatest Strengths: Determination and self-confidence

Truest Friend: Captain Harville

Worst Enemy: By his own admission, himself. 

Prospects: He has 20,000 pounds, and if he should be so lucky as to live to see another war (which we know he does), there is the promise of more.

Favorite Quotations:

"The Admiralty," he continued, "entertain themselves now and then, with sending a few hundred men to sea, in a ship not fit to be employed. But they have a great many to provide for; and among the thousands that may just as well go to the bottom as not, it is impossible for them to distinguish the very set who may be least missed."

"A man does not recover from such a devotion of the heart to such a woman. He ought not; he does not."

"Good God!" he cried, "you would! It is not that I did not think of it, or desire it, as what could alone crown all my other success; but I was proud, too proud to ask again. I did not understand you. I shut my eyes, and would not understand you, or do you justice. This is a recollection which ought to make me forgive every one sooner than myself. Six years of separation and suffering might have been spared. It is a sort of pain, too, which is new to me. I have been used to the gratification of believing myself to earn every blessing that I enjoyed. I have valued myself on honourable toils and just rewards. Like other great men under reverses," he added, with a smile. "I must endeavour to subdue my mind to my fortune. I must learn to brook being happier than I deserve."

"If I am a fool, I shall be a fool indeed, for I have thought on the subject more than most men."

"You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you."

Musings: 

Every time I read Persuasion, I struggle more and more with my feelings about Captain Wentworth. I used to think him the most dashing man in Austen; now I kind of want to hit him over the head with a frying pan. He acts like such a child when he first reappears in Anne's life: sulking and resentful for not having had his way. Even worse, he subjects her to countless instances of pain. This is his revenge, and we must blame him for employing such antics against one such as Anne, but just like that wisest of Austen's creations, we understand that he could not remain so angry for so long if he had not been so terribly hurt. Nevertheless, it can't be denied a more self-aware man would have conducted himself better, and my tolerance for his blindness wearies with age.

Yet no matter how much I want to scream at the man, as soon as he writes that letter all is always forgiven. I have no idea how many times I've read this novel, but The Letter never comes before my eyes without blurring my vision. To have a man declare himself so, with such pure and honest passion! I think it the most romantic moment Austen ever wrote, and it instantly makes him worthy of Anne. Under her tutelage, we trust he will become a better man than he has been. Her influence can already be seen in his rather self-condemning sentiments at the end of the novel. He is sincerely sorry for what he has done, is intent on reform, and what marks an Austen hero or heroine more than the struggle for self-improvement?

Character Profile: George Knightley

Mr. Knightley, a sensible man about seven or eight-and-thirty, was not only a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly connected with it, as the elder brother of Isabella's husband. He lived about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor, and always welcome, and at this time more welcome than usual, as coming directly from their mutual connections in London.

Name: George Knightley

Age: 35

Hobbies: Agricultural improvement. He also takes a general interest in making sure everyone in his little corner of the world is well taken care of, an activity which surely leaves him little time for any demanding hobby, so he settles for sparing with Emma instead.

Most Charming Quality: Intelligence.

Most Detrimental Tendency: Jealousy.

Greatest Strengths: Honor and sincerity.

Truest Friend: It's a toss up between Emma Woodhouse, John Knightly, and William Larkins.

Worst Enemy: Frank Churchill

Prospects: Exceedingly good. He is the master on Donwell Abbey, the principal estate of the area, but he invests most of his money back into the estate, foregoing many of the luxuries (like horses) that most gentlemen consider necessary.

Favorite Quotations:
 "I have still the advantage of you by sixteen years' experience, and by not being a pretty young woman and a spoiled child."

"He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there."

"No, Emma, your amiable young man can be amiable only in French, not in English. He may be very 'aimable,' have very good manners, and be very agreeable; but he can have no English delicacy towards the feelings of other people: nothing really amiable about him." 

"Oh! very delightful indeed; I can say nothing less, for I suppose Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill are hearing every thing that passes. And (raising his voice still more) I do not see why Miss Fairfax should not be mentioned too. I think Miss Fairfax dances very well; and Mrs. Weston is the very best country-dance player, without exception, in England. Now, if your friends have any gratitude, they will say something pretty loud about you and me in return; but I cannot stay to hear it."

"Better be without sense, than misapply it as you do."

"I cannot make speeches, Emma:" he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing.--"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am.--You hear nothing but truth from me.--I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it.--Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover.--But you understand me.--Yes, you see, you understand my feelings--and will return them if you can. At present, I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice."

Musings: Finally, a hero I can relish in peace! Both Edmund Bertram and Mr. Darcy's profiles were too emotional for me to enjoy it. Mr. Knightley is just the sort of man I can easily rejoice in, without any undue frenzy. He is, perhaps, Austen's most likable hero, and certainly the most comfortable husband.

One knows precisely what to expect of Mr. Knightly. The man is clear-sighted, penetrating, and scrupulously honorable: the model of gentlemanly conduct. His only flaw is jealously of Frank Churchill, a rather charming failing than not, and we easily forgive him.

I adore Mr. Knightley's proposal. I think it possibly the best in Austen, though Wentworth may have him beat. It is his most muddled speech. Usually clear and concise in his statements, he invokes that fact while his overriding emotions undermine the entire argument. "I cannot make speeches..." - can you not, Mr. Knightley? I find it a more than admirable speech, even when its intelligence gets lost feeling.

Such an admirable man leaves me little to critique. All I can do is bask in his perfection. Oh dear! It seems I'm overcome by frenzy in spite myself. How very disappointing.

Images:
http://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/2010/01/24/emma-2010-on-pbs-masterpiece-classic-a-review/
http://reveriesunderthesignofausten.wordpress.com/category/18th-century-films/
http://www.jimandellen.org/austenblog/548.html
http://jeremynortham.co.uk/2010/02/01/why-jonny-lee-miller-will-never-be-my-mr-knightley/

Profile: Edmund Bertram

Edmund's friendship never failed her: his leaving Eton for Oxford made no change in his kind dispositions, and only afforded more frequent opportunities of proving them. Without any display of doing more than the rest, or any fear of doing too much, he was always true to her interests, and considerate of her feelings, trying to make her good qualities understood, and to conquer the diffidence which prevented their being more apparent; giving her advice, consolation, and encouragement.

Name: Edmund Bertram

Age: 24

Hobbies: Reading, star gazing, listening to the harp, and moralizing.

Most charming quality: General goodness, combined with a perception for the best in others.

Most detrimental tendency: Blindness

Greatest strength: Strong moral character

Truest friend: Fanny Price

Worst enemy: Himself

Prospects: For a second son, quite good. He has the living of Thornton Lacy, worth 700 pounds, to which he adds Mansfield, worth "less than a thousand a year".

Quotations:

"My dear little cousin," said he, with all the gentleness of an excellent nature, "what can be the matter?"

"Poor Fanny! not allowed to cheat herself as she wishes!"

 "If you are against me, I ought to distrust myself..."

"Believe me, I have no pleasure in the world superior to that of contributing to yours. No, I can safely say, I have no pleasure so complete, so unalloyed. It is without a drawback."

"She does not think evil, but she speaks it, speaks it in playfulness; and though I know it to be playfulness, it grieves me to the soul."

"You are the only being upon earth to whom I should say what I have said; but you have always known my opinion of her; you can bear me witness, Fanny, that I have never been blinded."

"I was playing the fool with my eyes open."

Musings:

Observant followers might notice that I avoided the descriptive "favorite", per my habit, when listing quotations taken from Mr. Bertram. It is not that he doesn't say anything I particularly enjoy (though that is very nearly true), but I have opted to take this character sketch in a slightly different direction. In the name of disclosure, let me loudly proclaim that Edmund is my least favorite of all Austen's heroes, and while I find him agonizingly frustrating, it does not mean that I do not care for him at all. My challenge here is to articulate what it is that redeems him, and I hope the quotes selected above will assist me in that effort.

Above all else, Edmund is worthy of his hero status because of his ability to properly value Fanny.  It is upon this fact that Austen builds her entire premise for his being worthy of the heroine's affection. Though Austen illustrates his good qualities throughout the book, it is mostly through acts of kindness to his cousin. As I looked at his statements in the text, I was struck by the fact that pretty much all  of the quotes I preferred were addressed to Fanny. Granted, the story is from her perspective, but he says a great deal in conversation with others (actually speaking far more than most of Austen's heroes). So I began with those quotations which seemed to best illustrate his relationship to Fanny, for here lies his foundation.

Part of the problem with Edmund is that outside of his appreciation for and care of Fanny, we are asked to pretty much take it for granted that he is a superior man. Austen always demands that we look to a character's behavior when sketching them, so it is particularly notable that Edmund never does anything even remotely astounding to illustrate his worth. In fact, in his biggest moment of moral dilemma, regarding the play, he proves himself inferior. He also fails to discern what is lacking in the Crawfords and his sisters, almost willfully assuming everyone is as innocent as he. He proves a terrible judge of character in almost every instance but in regards to Fanny. Even when he acknowledges misgivings about Mary Crawford, he remains stubborn in his blindness. The pain he inflicts on Fanny by dismissing her scruples when she tries to give him warning is insulting to her good sense, let alone that he suppresses internally. The bulk of the quotes I selected speak to his lack of self-knowledge.

Interesting that in Mansfield Park, while Austen usually subjects all her heroes and heroines to some sort of journey towards self-discovery, we meet a Fanny Price already fully self-aware. It instead becomes Edmund's burden (shared with his father) to illustrate the all importance of knowing thyself, and I'm not sure he succeeds. He says when recounting his last leave of Mary:

I only said in reply, that from my heart I wished her well, and earnestly hoped that she might soon learn to think more justly, and not owe the most valuable knowledge we could any of us acquire, the knowledge of ourselves and of our duty, to the lessons of affliction, and immediately left the room.  

This is just like him - to make declarative statements and offer advice without applying any of it to himself. How ironic that such recommendation of self-discovery comes from this most obtuse gentleman! In the same speech he argues with Fanny over Mary's cruelty, as if his opinion on the subject can still can be considered credible. Further, he is so oblivious that he actually considers that speaking of Mr. Crawford might pain Fanny, as if she ever had the slightest attachment to him and wasn't the one to mistrust him from the very first! I have no patience for him at all. I will conclude by repeating the notion that Edmund is only worthy because Fanny finds him so. In her judgement, certainly, we can have faith.

Images:
http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/edmund-bertram?before=1342167398
http://laughingwithlizzie.blogspot.com/2012/06/where-have-i-seen-you-before.html
http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/edmund-bertram?before=1346099912

Profile: Fitzwilliam Darcy

... his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien; and the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. The gentlemen pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the ladies declared he was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great admiration for about half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust which turned the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud, to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all his large estate in Derbyshire could then save him from having a most forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared with his friend.

Name: Fitzwilliam Darcy

Age: Eight and twenty

Hobbies: Reading, letter writing, buying lavish gifts for his sister, and meddling in the love life of his friends.

Most charming quality: Just one? I am afraid I cannot judge this character impartially. All my instinct tells me to simply explain that this is Fitzwilliam Darcy under discussion, and the name is a charm in and of itself, but instead I will quote another lady's response, when at a loss for an answer, and claim the "beautiful grounds at Pemberley" as the source of his appeal.

Most detrimental tendency: I refuse to choose either pride or prejudice, as that way lies a trap, and so instead exploit his own self-assessment:

"I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own."

Greatest strength: The unfathomable depths of his devotion.

Truest friend: Colonel Fitzwilliam

Worst enemy: George Wickham

Prospects: Excellent. He is the owner of Pemberley and all the honors intended therein, including 10,000 pounds a year.

Favorite quotations:

"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?"

"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."

"Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife."

"Yes," replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, "but that was only when I first knew her, for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance."

"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

"What think you of books?" said he, smiling. 

Musings: This has by far been the hardest character profile to write. I cannot see clearly through the fog of love, and if there is a fictional character that I have ever truly loved, it is Mr. Darcy. Part of the problem is his similarity to my husband. John has no grand fortune or impressive height, but he does think rather too highly of himself, even if his arrogance is often justified, and he would endure anything to secure the happiness of those he loves. Maybe that's the most awesome thing about Mr. Darcy: he may be a bastard at times, but he's totally dependable. What more could a girl really want? Oh yeah - Pemberley! Just ask Miss Bingley.

I had such a hard time narrowing myself to a few, favorite quotations from Mr. Darcy. Pretty much every word that comes out of his mouth is fabulous. I particularly enjoy it when he's acting smug and obnoxious. Part of Darcy's charm is the jerkiness, and I think that's why my thoughts about him are so hard to articulate. Women notoriously fall for "bad boys". I do not pretend to know why when there experts who have dedicated their lives to such questions, but it's certainly true that if Darcy was perfectly pleasant from beginning to end, he would not be so devastatingly attractive. If you need proof of this assertion, I suggest you read my first novel, or any of the many other Pride and Prejudice variations out there that imagine a more flawless Darcy. He's still handsome, rich, and dependable, but the edge is gone. He is no longer quite so swoon-worthy as he was in Austen's hands.

Oh dear! I had best never let my husband read this, for I think he would undoubtedly use it as a counter for any criticism I level at his temper for the rest of our lives. do you see how Mr. Darcy has led me to write the supporting argument for arrogance and self-satisfaction in men? I simply cannot be trusted on this subject. I call upon those with cooler heads to critique Fitzwilliam Darcy, for "I do not get on at all."

Images:
http://vintagedudes.tumblr.com/post/6138063930/david-rintoul-as-mr-darcy
http://www.bbc.co.uk/wiltshire/content/image_galleries/wilton_house_pride_prejudice_gallery.shtml?5
http://www.fanpix.net/picture-gallery/laurence-olivier-picture-15778245.htm
http://shewhoseeks.blogspot.com/2011/01/kings-speech.html  




  

Profile: Edward Ferrars

Edward Ferrars was not recommended to their good opinion by any peculiar graces of person or address. He was not handsome, and his manners required intimacy to make them pleasing. He was too diffident to do justice to himself; but when his natural shyness was overcome, his behaviour gave every indication of an open, affectionate heart. His understanding was good, and his education had given it solid improvement. But he was neither fitted by abilities nor disposition to answer the wishes of his mother and sister, who longed to see him distinguished--as--they hardly knew what. They wanted him to make a fine figure in the world in some manner or other. His mother wished to interest him in political concerns, to get him into parliament, or to see him connected with some of the great men of the day. Mrs. John Dashwood wished it likewise; but in the mean while, till one of these superior blessings could be attained, it would have quieted her ambition to see him driving a barouche. But Edward had no turn for great men or barouches. All his wishes centered in domestic comfort and the quiet of private life. Fortunately he had a younger brother who was more promising.

Name: Edward Ferrars

Age: 22 or 23. He is engaged to Lucy Steele for four years and proposed sometime after leaving her uncle, Mr. Pratt's, care at age 18 and going up to Oxford at 19.

Hobbies: Unknown. He seems rather aimless in his pursuits, which consist of visiting friends and family, until necessity provides him with the profession he has so long wanted.

Most charming quality:  It must be self-deprecation, for it is only when he is criticizing himself that he says anything of substance.

Most detrimental tendency: Edward is too quick to justify his faulty actions. He finds a multitude of excuses for his engagement to Lucy, primarily blaming those who allowed him to be idle, and later justifies his conduct towards Elinor at Norland in the most selfish terms ("The danger is my own; I am doing no injury to anybody but myself.").

Greatest strength: Ability to engage the affections of Elinor Dashwood.

Truest friend: Elinor Dashwood has his interests closest at heart, and Colonel Brandon proves an excellent benefactor, but I believe this honor must go to his brother Robert, for unwittingly releasing him from a most unfortunate attachment.

Worst enemy: I believe this honor must be shared between his fiancee, Lucy Steel, and his mother, a very sad predicament for the poor man to be in.

Prospects: Though "the eldest son of a man who had died very rich ... except a trifling sum [1000 pounds], the whole of his fortune depended on the will of his mother." Prudence dictates caution regarding such an arrangement, which proves to be highly justified when his capricious mother disinherits him in favor of his younger brother. He does, however, still receive 10,000 pounds upon his marriage, making his annual income, including the living he receives from Colonel Brandon, approximately 750 pounds. 

Favorite quotations: "I was engaged elsewhere."

"It is a beautiful country," he replied; "but these bottoms must be dirty in winter."
"How can you think of dirt, with such objects before you?"
"Because," replied he, smiling, "among the rest of the objects before me, I see a very dirty lane."

 "... and, at length, as there was no necessity for my having any profession at all, as I might be as dashing and expensive without a red coat on my back as with one, idleness was pronounced on the whole to be most advantageous and honourable, and a young man of eighteen is not in general so earnestly bent on being busy as to resist the solicitations of his friends to do nothing."

"I like a fine prospect, but not on picturesque principles. I do not like crooked, twisted, blasted trees. I admire them much more if they are tall, straight, and flourishing. I do not like ruined, tattered cottages. I am not fond of nettles or thistles, or heath blossoms. I have more pleasure in a snug farm-house than a watch-tower--and a troop of tidy, happy villages please me better than the finest banditti in the world."


"I have no wish to be distinguished; and have every reason to hope I never shall. Thank Heaven! I cannot be forced into genius and eloquence."


"I had therefore nothing in the world to do, but to fancy myself in love ..."

Musings: As the observant reader has already noted, I am no fan of Mr. Edward Ferrars. Elinor must see something in him, for there can be no doubt of the sincerity of her attachment, but what it is I am unable to fathom. I am constantly puzzled as to how a woman of her perception could fall for him. Other than his noble action in upholding his engagement to a woman he does not love (and let it be noted that to act otherwise would have been completely reprehensible according to the mores of the day, possibly even resulting in legal action), Austen endows Edward with almost no attractive qualities. It is Elinor's affections that redeem him, for it is totally inconceivable that she could care for someone who did not possess some kind of valuable characteristic or another.

While it is easy to forgive Edward for making a foolish decision in his youth (who hasn't?), it is far more difficult to excuse his behavior to Elinor at Norland. Even she calls him out for his conduct:

Elinor scolded him, harshly as ladies always scold the imprudence which compliments themselves, for having spent so much time with them at Norland, when he must have felt his own inconstancy.

"Your behaviour was certainly very wrong," said she; "because--to say nothing of my own conviction, our relations were all led away by it to fancy and expect what, as you were then situated, could never be."

He could only plead an ignorance of his own heart, and a mistaken confidence in the force of his engagement.

"I was simple enough to think, that because my faith was plighted to another, there could be no danger in my being with you; and that the consciousness of my engagement was to keep my heart as safe and sacred as my honour. I felt that I admired you, but I told myself it was only friendship; and till I began to make comparisons between yourself and Lucy, I did not know how far I was got. After that, I suppose, I was wrong in remaining so much in Sussex, and the arguments with which I reconciled myself to the expediency of it, were no better than these:--The danger is my own; I am doing no injury to anybody but myself."

Elinor smiled, and shook her head.

Would you smile at the man in your life if he explained himself thusly? The head shake indicates that Elinor is not satisfied, despite being ready to forgive. One must wonder how this issue would again arise after their marriage. If I were his wife, I'd be rather loath to let this particular gentleman to spend any length of time in company with an eligible lady. His record is not good.



What we can say with certainty is that Edward's character is sure to benefit from Elinor's influence, as can be seen almost immediately in his attempt to make amends with his mother at her urging. However, I cannot help but contemplate what such a man would have become had he been called upon to marry his first fiancee: embittered, broken, and inclined to blame everyone but himself for a predicament he created. I cannot like him, despite Elinor's preference. Thank goodness for Colonel Brandon, a far more satisfying hero, and it is he I will tackle next.


Images:
http://www.fanpop.com/spots/jane-austens-heroes/images/12301359/title/edward-ferrars-photo
http://www.jimandellen.org/austenblog/988.html
http://austenefforts.bravehost.com/sands1981.html
http://miss-dashwood.blogspot.com/2011/11/defending-edward-ferrars.html

The Quest for a Title and More

Becoming Jane - http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2008/aug/11/week

I haven't been quite on top of blogging these past few weeks. I was posting at an almost frantic pace in January, and the early part of this month was kept very busy between finishing my entry, entitled "Henry and Maria", for the Jane Austen Made Me Do It Short Story Contest and putting together my post for the Sense and Sensibility Bicentenary Celebration at My Jane Austen Book Club (read about S&S on film and enter to win a copy of the 1995 DVD here). Now that things have calmed a bit, I am now trying to focus on all that has been recently neglected. Unfortunately, that has kind of puts blogging on the back burner. I have lots of posts in mind, and here is some of what you can look forward. I have a pile of Heyer that I want to review (yes, the hubby and I are still reading and rereading these delightful novels), including one of my very favorites, Friday's Child, and The Convenient Marriage, which we just read for the first time and thoroughly enjoyed. I also need to get rolling on Northanger Abbey Janeicillin, which I hope to start posting at the beginning of March. Furthermore, I am almost finished reading Jane's Fame by Claire Harman, the review for which will include a giveaway of this fascinating book. Unfortunately, I put it aside before finishing it in order to read all the JAMMDI entries (which are fabulous!) so I can vote before the February 28th deadline. As I embark for Texas tomorrow, I hope to finish all this backlog of reading in flight. However, journeying out of town (I am off to see my grandparents before I am too large to travel comfortably) will necessarily postpone any hopes of blogging until I return next week. There is also a partially completed character profile of Edward Ferrars to finish and more of Amy Vanderbilt's etiquette to share.  

As I have now almost made it to the third trimester, my thoughts have necessarily turned towards baby furniture and other necessities, which has proven rather distracting, but I am trying to get as much work completed on my second novel, the continuation of First Impressions, that I can before delivering. This brings me to a request for assistance from you, my lovely readers, as I am rather stumped as to what to call this book. I have been using the working title of Second Chances, which feels rather lackluster, and would love it if some of you would throw out your ideas. I have not yet written a formal blurb for the story (hard to do when the narrative isn't complete) but here is a brief summary of the plot. Any and all suggestions for a title are highly welcome, but if you haven't read the first book, be warned that the following will act as a spoiler:

A year has past since the Darcy were married. Kitty, having made great progress at her school in Bath, has been invited to join Darcy, Elizabeth, and Georgiana in London for the season. It is there that the two young ladies become acquainted with two eligible bachelors, Mr. Simon Brooks and his friend, Sir James Stratton. All seems in order for promising romances to bloom between Kitty and Mr. Brooks and Georgiana and Sir James, much to the Darcys satisfaction, until Mr. and Mrs. Wickham become involved, angered at their failed attempts to leverage the familial connection with the Darcys as a means of furthering their social position. The situation is further complicated when Lydia, who is restless at school, resolves to liberate herself in the manner that comes most natural to her.

Please send me your thoughts, good and bad. I am looking to brainstorm so all notions are helpful. If I really love a few, I think I might post a survey to see which the readers most prefer, and if you suggest the title I end up using, I will credit you in my acknowledgments and send you a free copy of the book when it becomes available! 

Enjoy the remainder of this all too short month!

Profile: Henry Tilney

The master of the ceremonies introduced to her a very gentlemanlike young man as a partner; -- his name was Tilney. He seemed to be about four or five and twenty, was rather tall, had a pleasing countenance, a very intelligent and lively eye, and, if not quite handsome, was very near it. His address was good, and Catherine felt herself in high luck. There was little leisure for speaking while they danced; but when they were seated at tea, she found him as agreeable as she had already given him credit for being. He talked with fluency and spirit -- and there was an archness and pleasantry in his manner which interested, though it was hardly understood by her.

Name: Henry Tilney

Age: "...between four or five and twenty..."

Hobbies: Teasing, reading (both novels and histories), providing companionship to his sister, and linguistic analysis.

Most charming quality: His sense of humor.

Most detrimental tendency: An indifference towards immorality derived of world weariness.

Greatest strength: His uncanny perspicacity.

Truest friend: His sister, Eleanor.

Worst enemy: While it is difficult to term the man who sheltered, reared, and provided for one an enemy, I still think General Tilney the best candidate for this honor, for in putting his own mercenary ambitions above his son's happiness, it is he that provides the biggest impediment to its achievement.

Prospects: He has the living at Woodston, which we are lead to believe is a very good one, or, at least, good enough to allow him to marry a  girl of small fortune without his father's assistance.

Favorite quotations: "The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid. I have read all Mrs. Radcliffe's works, and most of them with great pleasure."

"My dear Eleanor, the riot is only in your own brain. The confusion there is scandalous."

"Miss Morland, no one can think more highly of the understanding of women than I do. In my opinion, nature has given them so much that they never find it necessary to use more than half."


"Bath, compared with London, has little variety, and so everybody finds out every year. 'For six weeks, I allow Bath is pleasant enough; but beyond that, it is the most tiresome place in the world.' You would be told so by people of all descriptions, who come regularly every winter, lengthen their six weeks into ten or twelve, and go away at last because they can afford to stay no longer."


"I use the verb 'to torment,' as I observed to be your own method, instead of 'to instruct,' supposing them to be now admitted as synonymous."

"If I understand you rightly, you had formed a surmise of such horror as I have hardly words to -- Dear Miss Morland, consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions you have entertained. What have you been judging from? Remember the country and the age in which we live. Remember that we are English, that we are Christians. Consult your own understanding, your own sense of the probable, your own observation of what is passing around you. -- Does our education prepare us for such atrocities? Do our laws connive at them? Could they be perpetrated without being known, in a country like this, where social and literary intercourse is on such a footing, where every man is surrounded by a neighbourhood of voluntary spies, and where roads and newspapers lay everything open? Dearest Miss Morland, what ideas have you been admitting?"

Musings:  Dear Mr. Tilney, my favorite hero (excepting Mr. Darcy, of course). He is witty and charmingly sardonic, yet perhaps what I find most charming in him is the fact that he falls in love with Catherine precisely because of her honestly and guilelessness. Mr. Tilney is very world weary, life with his father and brother, as well as his role as clergyman, leaving him thinking not very highly of humanity. It is for this reason that he refuses to interfere in Captain Tilney's dalliance with Isabella Thorpe: "Persuasion is not at command; but pardon me, if I cannot even endeavour to persuade him. I have myself told him that Miss Thorpe is engaged. He knows what he is about, and must be his own master." Austen only ever hints at the sexual, but I think it safe to assume that, as Captain Tilney abandones his pretensions towards Isabella, he has gotten what he desired from her, leaving her in a rather horrific predicament. Like her or not, Mr. Tilney's seems awfully cold regarding her plight, dismissing Isabella's suffering as well-earned, as demonstrated in this exchange with Catherine:

"But, suppose he had made her very much in love with him?"

"But we must first suppose Isabella to have had a heart to lose - consequently to have been a very different creature; and, in that case, she would have met with very different treatment."

Yet it is the very fact that Catherine displays herself to be just such "a very different creature" that wins his hardened heart. Repeatedly he comments upon Catherine's integrity and goodness. The above statements are followed thusly: "But your mind is warped by an innate principle of general integrity, and therefore not accessible to the cool reasonings of family partiality, or a desire of revenge." Still coined in the sarcastic terms that display Mr. Tilney's general opinion of humanity, this line nevertheless confirms his belief in the unusual superiority of Catherine. A few chapters earlier, he says, "You feel, as you always do, what is most to the credit of human nature. - Such feelings ought to be investigated, that they may know themselves." It is really remarkable that, having lived the life he has at Northanger, Mr. Tilney retains such a strong admiration for Catherine's innocence and honesty. I wonder that he only safeguards himself behind a cynical perspective, having somehow managed not to embrace humanities baser tendencies. Nevertheless, it is somehow the biting wit derived from his depressing knowledge of society that makes him so lovable. Mr. Tilney can utter the most misogynistic statements in all of Austen (playfully, of course), and we love him all the more for it - really a remarkable quality. I think the heart of the matter is that a lady would never be bored in Henry Tilney's company. He is the most obviously intelligent of all Austen's heroes, and as anyone who has read the authoresses letters will know, the character whose sense of humor most resembles her own. I often wonder if Mr. Tilney is not something of a self-portrait: the person Austen would have been if her tongue had been allowed the freedom only men enjoyed in this ear. On the same note, I wonder if Catherine Morland is not the lady should would have liked to be instead of the acute observer she was, suffering, just like Mr. Tilney, with all the trials such knowledge bestows upon its possessor.  

Images:
http://unikornis87.blogspot.com/2010_07_01_archive.html
http://austenprose.com/2008/10/08/go-gothic-with-northanger-abbey-guest-blogger-isabella-thorpe-chats-about-horrid-movies/

Profile: Anne Elliot

... but Anne, with an elegance of mind and sweetness of character, which must have placed her high with any people of real understanding, was nobody with either father or sister; her word had no weight, her convenience was always to give way - she was only Anne.

Name: Anne Elliot

Age: 27

Hobbies: Music, reading, and making herself useful to others.

Most charming quality: Her remarkable listening skills.

Most detrimental tendency: A strong inclination towards melancholy.

Greatest strength: Her sense of compassion.

Truest friend: For better or for worse, Lady Russell.

Worst enemy: Elizabeth Elliot, as she is the only person foolish enough to develop an aversion to Anne.

Prospects: Diminished. She has ten thousand pounds - the majority of which, at the time of her marriage, is somehow wrapped up in Sir Walter's debts - and the joys of pedigree.

Favorite quotations: "If I was wrong in yielding to persuasion once, remember that it was to persuasion exerted on the side of safety, not of risk. When I yielded, I thought it was to duty, but no duty could be called in aid here. In marrying a man indifferent to me, all risk would have been incurred, and all duty violated."

"Perhaps I shall. Yes, yes, if you please, no reference to examples in books. Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own 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 anything."

"This," said she, "is nearly the sense, or rather the meaning of the words, for certainly the sense of an Italian love-song must not be talked of, but it is as nearly the meaning as I can give; for I do not pretend to understand the language. I am a very poor Italian scholar."

"My idea of good company, Mr. Elliot, is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company."

"There is always something offensive in the details of cunning. The manoeuvres of selfishness and duplicity must ever be revolting, but I have heard nothing which really surprises me. I know those who would be shocked by such a representation of Mr. Elliot, who would have difficulty in believing it; but I have never been satisfied. I have always wanted some other motive for his conduct than appeared."

"Yes," sighed Anne, "we shall, indeed, be known to be related to them!" then recollecting herself, and not wishing to be answered, she added, "I certainly do think there has been by far too much trouble taken to procure the acquaintance. I suppose" (smiling) "I have more pride than any of you; but I confess it does vex me, that we should be so solicitous to have the relationship acknowledged, which we may be very sure is a matter of perfect indifference to them."

"Oh!" cried Anne eagerly, "I hope I do justice to all that is felt by you, and by those who resemble you. God forbid that I should undervalue the warm and faithful feelings of any of my fellow-creatures! I should deserve utter contempt if I dared to suppose that true attachment and constancy were known only by woman. No, I believe you capable of everything great and good in your married lives. I believe you equal to every important exertion, and to every domestic forbearance, so long as--if I may be allowed the expression--so long as you have an object. I mean while the woman you love lives, and lives for you. All the privilege I claim for my own sex (it is not a very enviable one; you need not covet it), is that of loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone."


"What wild imaginations one forms where dear self is concerned! How sure to be mistaken!"

Musings: When I reviewed Persuasion before writing this profile, I was astounded to realize how very little Anne ever says in the first volume. Unlike most of Austen's heroines, whom we get to know through their words, Anne is entirely developed in her own thoughts and contemplations. Not a single one of the above quotes is taken from the first volume of the book, during which she is talked at a great deal, but all her responses - those deep, philosophical observations which mark her (in my opinion) as Austen's most perfect creation - are completely internal. This is a woman who lives entirely within herself. None of her companions offer her equality of mind and intelligence. Though we like to remember how wrong Lady Russell was in her advice to Anne regarding her youthful engagement, I was struck by how correct Lady Russell sentiments are when she considers that, "Anne had been too little from home, too little seen. Her spirits were not high. A larger society would improve them. She wanted her to be more known." For our almost silent Anne, with the commencement of the second volume, becomes quite verbose, beginning in her conversations with Mr. Elliot, then expounding in her interactions with Mrs. Smith, until she unleashes a virtual torrent of ideas upon Captain Harville. My huge love of Persuasion has always stemmed from my belief that the book is structurally magnificent, and these recent observations just magnify my awe at one of the most beautiful novels ever written. Anne begins the story worn and faded, "haggard" in her father's estimation, a shadow of her youthful self, and then comes alive again before us, as blooming as any young creature Austen ever devised. The journey is magnificent - beginning with the palpable nature of Anne's agony and reaching a crescendo of "senseless joy" at the end - and the resulting catharsis, unparalleled. 

Images:
http://www.jimandellen.org/austenblog/984.htm
ltumblr.com
http://www.jimandellen.org/austenblog/785.html
 

Profile: Emma Woodhouse

Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.

Name: Emma Woodhouse

Age: 20


Hobbies: Other than matchmaking, Emma is the consummate dilettante. She reads, plays the pianoforte, draws likenesses, engages in fine needlework, and even collects the occasional riddle, all with a great deal of natural skill but no diligence.


Most charming quality: Her devotion to her family, particularly her rather trying father. 


Most detrimental tendency: "A disposition to think a little too well of herself."

Greatest strength: A willingness to correct her faults, once they become manifestly clear.

Truest Friend: Mrs. Weston, nee Taylor

Worst enemy: Pick one - Mr. or Mrs. Elton


Prospects: Very good. She is mistress of her father's home and possesses thirty thousand pounds. No other lady in Highbury is her equal.


Favorite quotations: "But, with common sense," she added, "I am afraid I have had little to do."

"Perhaps you may now begin to regret that you spent one whole day, out of so few, in having your hair cut."
 
"I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way. Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not always folly.--It depends upon the character of those who handle it."

"These are the sights, Harriet, to do one good. How trifling they make every thing else appear!—I feel now as if I could think of nothing but these poor creatures all the rest of the day; and yet, who can say how soon it may all vanish from my mind?"


"I would much rather have been merry than wise."

"You are sick of prosperity and indulgence. Cannot you invent a few hardships for yourself, and be contented to stay?"

"Oh! I always deserve the best treatment, because I never put up with any other; and, therefore, you must give me a plain, direct answer."

"Can you trust me with such flatterers?--Does my vain spirit ever tell me I am wrong?"

Musings: It seems that Emma Woodhouse is, after Fanny Price, the most despised of Austen's heroines, and while I feel called upon to defend Fanny (read my profile of her here) because she is so misunderstood, my desire to espouse Miss Woodhouse is based in purely selfish motivation, much like her own. For better or for worse, she is the heroine in Austen that I can best relate to. We are almost sickeningly alike - spoiled, self-consequential, and meddling - but we also share our good qualities. As stated above, Emma's greatest strength seems to be her willingness to learn from her mistakes. So if we acknowledge that she begins the novel as a flawed creature, she is undoubtedly a far superior one by the end. And I think this is really the crux of Emma. It is a tale of blunders, and of learning the hard lessons they teach. The word is used repeatedly throughout the novel, most memorably in the scene where Frank Churchill spells it out with the young Knightley's alphabet letters. However, all of Emma's amendment and repentance does not seem to be enough to excuse her in the minds of the many readers who insist upon hating her. I have only been able to construct two explanations for such unreasonableness. The first is that Austen herself declared that it would be so in her famous statement, "I am going to take a heroine whom no-one but myself will much like." The second is that Emma is far more privileged than Austen's other heroines, and therefore not an object of commiseration. In regards to the first argument, I suggest we all try to cultivate such good taste, and as for the second, which I find more convincing, I propose comparing Miss Woodhouse to the Austen heroine she most resembles: Elizabeth Bennet. Both are clever, charming, and make mistakes based upon an over dependence on their own intelligence, yet Miss Bennet is universally beloved. Granted, she does not interfere in other people lives the way Emma does, but she is also not so fortunate as to be the most consequential lady in her neighborhood. If we reversed their circumstances, I think we would find them to be uncannily similar. It is interesting that Austen declared her intention of creating a heroine whom no one but she would like almost immediately after receiving the criticisms of Mansfield Park, which always have and always will focus on Fanny Price's lack of Elizabeth Bennet's charms. Perhaps Emma can be viewed as a criticism of the public's taste? I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter.

Images:
http://pecuniarities.com/carnival-of-personal-finance-no-188-the-jane-austen-edition/2122
http://austenprose.com/2010/02/01/deconstructing-miss-emma-woodhouse/
http://daysofserendipity.wordpress.com/2010/01/22/emma/
http://hermes.hrc.ntu.edu.tw/lctd/asp/works/349/emma.htm

Profile: Fanny Price

The gentleness, modesty, and sweetness of her character were warmly expatiated on; that sweetness which makes so essential a part of every woman's worth in the judgment of man, that though he sometimes loves where it is not, he can never believe it absent. Her temper he had good reason to depend on and to praise. He had often seen it tried. Was there one of the family, excepting Edmund, who had not in some way or other continually exercised her patience and forbearance? Her affections were evidently strong. To see her with her brother! What could more delightfully prove that the warmth of her heart was equal to its gentleness? What could be more encouraging to a man who had her love in view? Then, her understanding was beyond every suspicion, quick and clear; and her manners were the mirror of her own modest and elegant mind. Nor was this all. Henry Crawford had too much sense not to feel the worth of good principles in a wife, though he was too little accustomed to serious reflection to know them by their proper name; but when he talked of her having such a steadiness and regularity of conduct, such a high notion of honour, and such an observance of decorum as might warrant any man in the fullest dependence on her faith and integrity, he expressed what was inspired by the knowledge of her being well principled and religious.

Name: Fanny Price

Age: 18

Hobbies: Reading, riding, and occasional stargazing.

Most charming quality: The gentleness of her nature.

Most detrimental tendency: The gentleness of her nature.

Greatest strength: Impeccable morality.

Truest friend: William Price

Worst Enemy: Aunt Norris

Prospects: Rather vague. As Sir Thomas Bertram's niece and ward, she must have some security, but all he ever says on the subject is as follows: "... we must secure to the child, or consider ourselves engaged to secure to her hereafter, as circumstances may arise, the provision of a gentlewoman, if no such establishment should offer as you are so sanguine in expecting."

Favorite quotations: "Cut down an avenue! What a pity! Does it not make you think of Cowper? 'Ye fallen avenues, once more I mourn your fate unmerited.' "


"Perhaps, sir," said Fanny, wearied at last into speaking--"perhaps, sir, I thought it was a pity you did not always know yourself as well as you seemed to do at that moment."

"How wonderful, how very wonderful the operations of time, and the changes of the human mind!" And following the latter train of thought, she soon afterwards added: "If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control! We are, to be sure, a miracle every way; but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly past finding out."


"I had not, Miss Crawford, been an inattentive observer of what was passing between him and some part of this family in the summer and autumn. I was quiet, but I was not blind."


"Here's harmony!" said she; "here's repose! Here's what may leave all painting and all music behind, and what poetry only can attempt to describe! Here's what may tranquillise every care, and lift the heart to rapture! When I look out on such a night as this, I feel as if there could be neither wickedness nor sorrow in the world; and there certainly would be less of both if the sublimity of Nature were more attended to, and people were carried more out of themselves by contemplating such a scene."

"We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be."

Musings:  I completely fail to understand why so many readers are intolerant of poor Fanny. Certainly, she is rather unlike the "sparkling" heroines of Austen's more popular novels, but I feel the hatred people harbor towards her is totally unfounded, possibly irrational. We admire Elizabeth Bennet for her willingness to reject both Mr. Collins and, far more so, Mr. Darcy, but when Fanny behaves similarly, readers scream with rage. For though Fanny is a meek and timid creature, is it not an act of incredible courage (quite frankly, more than I feel Elizabeth displays) to reject Henry Crawford, especially when her entire family is aligned against her decision? And why would anyone want her to marry Mr. Crawford, who thoroughly proves himself a cad and a scoundrel? Do we truly believe that Fanny would reform him? Isn't such a scenario as unlikely as Marianne being able to find happiness with Willoughby? Why do so many want this poor girl, who has already suffered so much due to the mercenary values of society, to sacrifice herself for worldly gain?

I am going to be quite harsh here, because I think it warranted: when lovers of Austen censure  Fanny Price, they are acting exactly like Mrs. Norris. That's right. Your eyes do not deceive you. Cruel, misguided Aunt Norris. If you wish to overcome such harsh criticism, then please, dear Janeites, try to muster a little sympathy for Fanny. If you were a shy, affectionate little girl, taken from your home, treated as a second class citizen, and deprived of the solicitude that everyone craves, would you not grow up to be humble and diffident? And in such a state, when confronted with a situation that offends your basic morality, while all those around you urge you to act in a manner that you know to be wrong, would you have the courage to resist? I admire Fanny Price, as did Austen, who refers to her as "My Fanny", a possessive and affectionate appellation that she never attaches to any of her other heroines. Sequels and reimaginings might alter Fanny to suit the author's whim, while films portray her as something totally unrecognizable from the book, but I think she is delightful just as she is, and what Austen approved is more than good enough for me.

Images:
http://austenprose.com/2008/08/31/mansfield-park-revelation-i-am-fanny-price-are-you/ 
http://www2.selu.edu/Academics/Faculty/sparrill/
http://bookrat-misty.blogspot.com/2010/06/friday-face-off-austen-heroines-on.html

Profile: Elizabeth Bennet

... she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in any thing ridiculous.

Name: Elizabeth Bennet

Age: 20

Hobbies: Long walks, reading, and analyzing the foibles of her neighbors.

Most charming quality: A sharp and witty tongue

Most detrimental tendency: An inclination to judge character based upon appearance.

Greatest strength: Intelligence

Truest friend: Jane Bennet

Worst enemy: Another difficult call. I nominate George Wickham.

Prospects: Her share of the 5000 pounds her mother brought to her marriage, about 50 pounds a year.

Favorite quotations: "Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy, for she loves to be of use."


"Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are men to rocks and mountains?"

"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth, "which a young man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete."

"This is the consequence, you see, Madam, of marrying a daughter," said Elizabeth. "It must make you better satisfied that your other four are single."

"If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time."

Musings: What is there to say about Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Like Mary Poppins, she often seems "practically perfect in every way", but is she really? When compared with some of Austen's other heroines, particularly Elinor Dashwood and Anne Elliot, she is decidedly flawed, yet she is by far the most beloved and an eternal source of fascination to readers. Perhaps she is precisely what Austen meant when she said, "Pictures of perfection, you know, make me sick and wicked". As imperfect as Darcy is at the beginning of the novel, Elizabeth is equally so. Her prejudices are in complete control when she makes her initial assessments of both Darcy and Wickham, and they are totally premised upon how each man effects her pride. She likes Wickham because he pays her special attention, while disliking Darcy for his initial slight.When her assumptions are shattered after reading Darcy's letter, she decries her past behavior:

 "How despicably have I acted!" she cried. -- "I, who have prided myself on my discernment! -- I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity, in useless or blameable distrust. -- How humiliating is this discovery! -- Yet, how just a humiliation! -- Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my folly. -- Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment, I never knew myself."

So she claims, but I believe that she does know how prejudiced she is all along, even if she does not acknowledge the negative repercussions of her biases.  In chapter sixteen, when chatting with Wickham at the Phillips' home, she thinks to herself: "A young man too, like you, whose very countenance may vouch for your being amiable". Though the Victorians may have adored physiognomy, Austen wisely teaches us the dangers of judging character based upon appearance (Wickham, Willoughby, Mr. Elliot), and Elizabeth, with all her insight into human character, should certainly know better. Again in chapter eighteen, at the Netherfield ball, she says jokingly to Charlotte: "Heaven forbid! -- That would be the greatest misfortune of all! -- To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! -- Do not wish me such an evil." While the statement is certainly a fine piece of wit, it is also acknowledgment of her determined prejudices. The reason why I love and admire Elizabeth anyway is because of her eventual willingness to acknowledge her faults and amend her behavior accordingly. It is for this same reason that I find Darcy the most appealing of all Austen's heroes. Both characters are able to be self-critical and change accordingly. It is easy to see the faults you yourself posses in others and decry them. It is far more difficult (and courageous) to turn such censure upon oneself.

Images:
http://www.jimandellen.org/austenblog/926.html
http://www.myprideandprejudice.com/2009/07/1980-pride-and-prejudice-a-review-of-the-bbc-tv-adaptation/
http://netflixcommunity.ning.com/group/yourearealcharacter/forum/topics/character-barrel-of-monkeys
http://www.theage.com.au/news/film-reviews/pride-and-prejudice/2005/10/20/1129775887719.html

Profile: Marianne Dashwood

Marianne would have thought herself very inexcusable had she been able to sleep at all the first night after parting from Willoughby. She would have been ashamed to look her family in the face the next morning, had she not risen from her bed in more need of repose than when she lay down in it. But the feelings which made such composure a disgrace, left her in no danger of incurring it. She was awake the whole night, and she wept the greatest part of it. She got up with a headache, was unable to talk, and unwilling to take any nourishment; giving pain every moment to her mother and sisters, and forbidding all attempt at consolation from either. Her sensibility was potent enough!



Name: Marianne Dashwood

Age: Sixteen

Hobbies: Playing the pianoforte and marveling at the sublime

Most charming quality: (as described by Colonel Brandon) "...warmth of heart...eagerness of fancy and spirits."

Most detrimental tendency: Self-absorption

Greatest strength: Passion

Truest friend: Elinor Dashwood

Worst enemy: Highly debatable. I nominate John Dashwood.

Prospects: While, like her sister, she only has 1000 pounds until her mother's death, she expects much more. In her own words: "And yet two thousand a-year is a very moderate income," said Marianne. "A family cannot well be maintained on a smaller. I am sure I am not extravagant in my demands. A proper establishment of servants, a carriage, perhaps two, and hunters, cannot be supported on less."

Favorite quotations: "Nor I," answered Marianne with energy, "our situations then are alike. We have neither of us any thing to tell; you, because you do not communicate, and I, because I conceal nothing."

"Undoubtedly. At my time of life opinions are tolerably fixed. It is not likely that I should now see or hear any thing to change them."

"Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Elinor! Oh! worse than cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise. Use those words again, and I will leave the room this moment."

"The rent of this cottage is said to be low; but we have it on very hard terms, if we are to dine at the park whenever any one is staying either with them, or with us."

"On the contrary, nothing can be a stronger proof of it, Elinor; for if there had been any real impropriety in what I did, I should have been sensible of it at the time, for we always know when we are acting wrong, and with such a conviction I could have had no pleasure."

"Dear, dear Norland!" said Marianne, as she wandered alone before the house, on the last evening of their being there; "when shall I cease to regret you!--when learn to feel a home elsewhere!--Oh! happy house, could you know what I suffer in now viewing you from this spot, from whence perhaps I may view you no more!--And you, ye well-known trees!--but you will continue the same.--No leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you no longer!--No; you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion, and insensible of any change in those who walk under your shade!--But who will remain to enjoy you?"

Musings: My thoughts about Marianne were largely expressed in my profile of Elinor (read it here). I think of her as a typical teenager: full of her own uniqueness and totally unaware that she is actually almost exactly like every young lady at sixteen. When I was nineteen, I dated a man of twenty-three. The relationship rapidly proceeded towards its end when he told me that I wasn't as unusual as I thought. I was further infuriated by his insistence that in a few years, I would be mature enough to see his point (which I was, and have had the same conversation with similarly reluctant teens in turn). So many of Marianne's statements remind me of this episode of my life. For example, "No; my feelings are not often shared, not often understood," is precisely how I responded to this long ago boyfriend's sentiments, refusing to believe that his years endowed him with the slightest notion as to how I felt. Marianne also possesses a good dose of the righteous indignation inherent to teenagers. Who does not recall berating some authority figure or another for what we once deemed unforgivable offenses?  I used to lecture my mother about politics (actually, I still sometime do), appalled by her acceptance at face value of mainstream news and textbook history. This reminds me of Marianne's rebuke to Sir John:

"That is an expression, Sir John," said Marianne, warmly, "which I particularly dislike. I abhor every common-place phrase by which wit is intended; and 'setting one's cap at a man,' or 'making a conquest,' are the most odious of all. Their tendency is gross and illiberal; and if their construction could ever be deemed clever, time has long ago destroyed all its ingenuity."

Who but a teen would feel empowered to lecture their elders, particularly one to whom they are extremely indebted to, in such a matter? Of course, by the end of the novel, Marianne has grown up in many ways. She becomes aware of the selfishness of her behavior and determines to improve herself, but even this honorable intention is conducted in an overly dramatic manner. Marianne would go from lovelorn to bookworm in a blink of the eye, unaware of how ridiculous such extremes appear to adults. Her "course of serious study" is as ambitious as Emma Woodhouse's lists of books. Fortunately for Marianne, Colonel Brandon appreciates the idiosyncrasies of youth more than Mr. Knightley.

Images:
http://www.cleveland.com/entertainment/index.ssf/2008/03/a_merry_english_matchup_the_tu.html
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/7060533.stm
http://c19.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=sense&action=print&thread=29233 
http://movies.ndtv.com/GalleryDetails.aspx?ID=3505&category=Movies&picno=1&Section=Hollywood