The Ladies of Norland: Part Two

Read Part One

The John Dashwoods remained at Norland several months, not from any disinclination on the part of their hostess to be rid of them, but rather a peculiarly gratifying sense of martyrdom that Mrs. Dashwood had developed in response to their continued company. For a period of time, she found her suffering rendered even more satisfyingly acute by the imposition which she endured, but once her spirits began to revive and her mind became capable of some other exertion than that of heightening its affliction by melancholy remembrances, she was rather impatient to see her guests gone. The contempt which she had from very early in their acquaintance felt for her daughter-in-law was very much increased by the further knowledge of her character, which half a year's residence in her family afforded. No more was Mrs. John Dashwood truly fond of her mother-in-law and sisters, but she convinced herself otherwise. It mattered not to her that her newfound affection was born of greed, for self-interest can always be counted upon to cast a rosy tint on selfish behavior. Nevertheless, the ladies might still have found it nearly impossible to have lived together for so long, and Fanny and family would have long since decamped, had not a particular circumstance occurred that increased the eligibility of her family’s continuance at Norland.

This circumstance was a growing attachment between Elinor and Fanny’s brother, a gentleman-like and pleasing young man who was introduced at Norland soon after his sister's arrival and who had been invited to spend a considerable part of his time there since, Mrs. Dashwood finding him a far more pleasing addition to the family circle than those who more properly belonged to it. He was quiet and unobtrusive, and she liked him for it. He did not disturb the wretchedness of her mind by ill-timed conversation. She was first called to observe and approve him further by a reflection which Elinor chanced one day to make on the difference between him and his sister. It was a contrast which recommended him most forcibly to her mother.

"It is enough," said she. "To say that he is unlike Fanny is enough. It implies everything amiable. I love him already."

Mrs. Dashwood now took pains to get acquainted with him. Her manners were attaching and soon banished his reserve. She speedily comprehended all his merits, and while the persuasion of his regard for Elinor perhaps assisted her penetration, she really felt assured of his worth. Even that quietness of manner, which militated against all her established ideas of what a young man's address ought to be, was no longer uninteresting when she knew his heart to be warm and his temper affectionate.

Where Mrs. Dashwood found much in Edward Ferrars to recommend him, the same could not be said of his closest relations. 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. Fanny had long wished it likewise, but it was an ambition whose attainment both ladies began to despair, for Edward had no turn for great men or fashion. All his wishes centered in domestic comfort and the quiet of private life. Fortunately, he had a younger brother who was more promising, and Fanny had a husband equipped with two highly eligible sisters. If Edward could secure one or the other, he might yet prove of some use, being situated both respectably and conveniently, well-positioned to protect her own family’s interest in the Norland estate.

Some mothers might have encouraged the intimacy from motives of interest, for Edward Ferrars was the eldest son of a man who had died very rich, and some might have repressed it from motives of caution, for the whole of his fortune, except a trifling sum, depended on the will of his mother. But Mrs. Dashwood was alike uninfluenced by either consideration. It was enough for her that he appeared to be amiable, that he loved her daughter, and that Elinor returned the partiality. It was contrary to every doctrine of hers that difference of fortune should keep any couple asunder who were attracted by resemblance of disposition. Besides, she could see no imprudence in the match. Between his two thousand pounds and her ten, they might not be rich, but they would always be comfortable, and no sooner did she perceive any symptom of love in his behavior to Elinor than she considered their serious attachment as certain and looked forward to their marriage as rapidly approaching.

"In a few months, my dear Marianne," said she, "Elinor will, in all probability, be settled for life. We shall miss her, but she will be happy."

"Oh! Mama, how shall we do without her?"

"My love, it will be scarcely a separation. We shall live within a few miles of each other and shall meet every day of our lives. I have the highest opinion in the world of Edward's heart. But you look grave, Marianne. Do you disapprove of your sister's choice?"

"Perhaps," said Marianne, "I may consider it with some surprise. Edward is very amiable, and I love him tenderly, but yet he is not the kind of young man I should expect to seriously attach my sister. His eyes want all that spirit, that fire, which at once announce virtue and intelligence. His studied reserve compels one to wonder how much he possesses of either, and besides all this, I am afraid, Mama, he has no real taste. Music seems scarcely to attract him, and though he admires Elinor's drawings very much, it is not the admiration of a person who can understand their worth. He admires as a lover, not as a connoisseur. To satisfy me, those characters must be united. I could not be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with my own. He must enter into all my feelings: the same books, the same music must charm us both. Elinor has not my feelings, and therefore she may overlook it and be happy with him. But Mama, the more I know of the world, the more I am convinced that I shall never see a man whom I can really love. I require so much! He must have all Edward's virtues, and his person and manners must ornament his goodness with every possible charm."

"Remember, my love, that you are not seventeen. It is yet too early in life to despair of such a happiness. Why should you be less fortunate than your mother?”

**********

Come back tomorrow to read part three and leave a comment to be included in the SURPRISE GIVEAWAY, the contents of which will be announced at the end of this story on Halloween. I will choose a winner November 1st. Comment on the story posts and share (you must inform me where you shared in your comment) to accumulate entries, and please, make sure I have a means of contacting you. Whichever format is comfortable for you, as long as I can reach you, because if you're totally anonymous, how can I inform you that you won? This has happened to me more than once, so please, take my urgings seriously. Good luck! 

The Ladies of Norland: Part One

The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex. Their estate was large, and their residence was at Norland Park, in the center of the property, where they had for many generations lived in so respectable a manner as to engage the general good opinion of their surrounding acquaintance. The late owner of this estate was a single man who lived to a very advanced age and who, for many years of his life, had a constant companion and housekeeper in his sister, but her death, ten years before his own, produced a great alteration. To supply her loss, he invited and received into his house the family of his nephew, Mr. Henry Dashwood, the legal inheritor of the Norland estate and the person to whom he intended to bequeath it. In the society of his nephew, niece, and their children, the old gentleman's days were comfortably spent. His attachment to them all increased. The constant attention of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Dashwood to his wishes, which proceeded not merely from interest but from goodness of heart, gave him every degree of solid comfort which his age could receive, and the cheerfulness of the children added a relish to his existence.

By a former marriage, Mr. Henry Dashwood had one son; by his present lady, three daughters. The son, a steady, respectable young man, was amply provided for by the fortune of his mother, which had been large and half of which devolved on him upon his coming of age. By his own marriage, which happened soon afterwards, he likewise added to his wealth. To him, therefore, the succession to the Norland estate was not so important as to his sisters, for their fortune, independent of what might arise to them from their father's inheriting that property, could be but small. Nevertheless, expectations will arise, even when unwarranted. Mr. John Dashwood, it was noted, could be relied upon to be particularly punctual in his visits to Norland, together with his wife and son, a child of four years, who was encouraged to court the affections of his uncle by such attractions as are by no means unusual in children of that age: an imperfect articulation, an earnest desire of having his own way, many cunning tricks, and a great deal of noise. But such accomplishments, impressive though they be, were not enough to outweigh all the value of the attention which, for years, he had received from his niece and her daughters.

The old gentleman died. His will was read and, like almost every other will, gave as much disappointment as pleasure. The bulk of the estate, as expected, was disposed upon Mr. Henry Dashwood, and with lifetime proprietary rights guaranteed to Mrs. Dashwood and handsome bequeathments secured upon his three nieces. He meant not to be unkind, however, and, as a mark of his affection for young Harry, left him a pony and three thousand pounds.

Mr. John Dashwood’s disappointment was at first severe, but his temper was cheerful and sanguine, and he might reasonably hope that neither of his parents should live for many more years, carriage accidents being common and influenza on the rise. In the meantime, it was decided that the pony had better be left at Norland, where it could cause no additional strain to his own purse (the three thousand pounds were not found similarly burdensome), and where Harry might frequently visit to try the charms of his lisp upon his grandparents and aunts. Yet before even two such sojourns could be achieved, Fortune proved a less fickle benefactor than man, and Mr. Henry Dashwood followed his predecessor to the grave only a twelfth month later.

Mr. John Dashwood was not an ill-disposed young man, unless to be rather coldhearted and selfish is to be ill-disposed, but he was, in general, well-respected, for he conducted himself with propriety in the discharge of his ordinary duties. Had he married a more amiable woman, he might have been made still more respectable than he was. He might even have been made amiable himself, for he was very young when he married and very fond of his wife, but Mrs. John Dashwood was a strong caricature of himself, yet more narrow-minded and selfish. Though she, too, was severely disappointed, her hopes of a speedy ascendance to the title of Mistress of Norland rather dashed, she was, nevertheless, quite quick to see the possible advantages in their current circumstances, and well-versed in how to make the most of status and position as she was, had no hesitation in inquiring what her husband intended to do for his poor suffering mother and sisters. Four women, she argued, living alone in isolation must have need of masculine guidance.

“How is a bereaved widow to raise three girls while overseeing both house and estate? It is too gross an imposition.”

“You forget Sanders has been Norland’s overseer these ten years or more, ever since he succeeded his father to the post. He can be relied upon between our annual visits.”

“Perhaps we ought to spend more time at Norland in the future. Even the oldest retainers have been known to tamper with accounts when left unsupervised for too long.”

“I have no reason to suspect Sanders’ honor, but I dare say he should have an easier time managing the workers with my regular, commanding presence to uphold his authority.”

“I should certainly think so. Only think what a help it would be to your mother to know the estate is in good order. She could focus her attention on finding suitable husbands for your sisters, which will be an arduous task, I assure you. Such charming and accomplished girls deserve a London season, where they will require firm guardianship. Dear Mrs. Dashwood is far too lenient.”

“You ought to introduce them to society yourself, Fanny.”

“My thought precisely, John. I should enjoy the task, and your poor mother could remain at Norland with Margaret, as I am certain she should greatly prefer, but such notions are a bit unseemly in the moment. Fortunately, their mourning period will be complete in time for me to bring them out next year, but for now, especially as our own activities must be curtailed, I think we might best support the grieving family by removing to Sussex.”

He frowned. “You do not think the ladies would prefer their own company at such a time? My sister Marianne is certain to be in the darkest of humors, and her dramatics can be quite unnerving. When last I saw her, she barely uttered two words.”

The lady honored her husband’s sensibilities, but she could not indulge them. “A little discomfort to ourselves is a small price to pay when our support is so needed. You can see to the books and grounds, and I can take over the housekeeping duties for dear Mrs. Dashwood.”

“I do think little Harry provides a cheering presence. One cannot but smile at his antics,” the fond father mused.

“To be sure, he will be the greatest balm to their blighted spirits, and you know how much he enjoys our stays at Norland. When might we depart?”

"Are we not too hasty? I do not wish to be perceived as encroaching," he replied. "One had rather, on such occasions, do too little than too much. They can hardly be expecting company."

"There is no knowing what they may expect," said the lady, "but we are not to think of their expectations. The question is: what do they require?"

"Certainly. Four ladies left to wallow alone in their sorrow cannot thrive. The mundane but necessary details of daily life will fall into neglect."

“That you must not allow. Any diminishment of the estate takes from your own pocket, John, and Harry’s as well. You have not just a right and interest in the house and family, but a duty to both. I know you would not wish to appear negligent.”

"That is very true, my dear. Indeed, that would not do at all, and so it is decided. I shall write to my mother of our intentions at once, but do rest easy regarding Sanders, my dear. He is a good man. There is no reason for concern over his ability to manage the estate for a few years. Harry’s patrimony will remain undiminished.”

His wife hesitated a little in accepting this reassurance. "I do not mean to disparage the abilities of Mr. Sanders. However, one would hope the estate would improve, not merely avoid neglect, over the time of Mrs. Dashwood’s residence. Should she live fifteen years, many an opportunity to increase the property’s value may be squandered."

"Fifteen years! My dear Fanny, her life cannot be worth half that purchase."

"If you will observe, people always live forever when they hold property required by others and of little use to themselves. She is very stout, healthy, and hardly forty."

Mr. John Dashwood looked alarmed. “Do you truly think so? I had not thought it possible. Certainly, over the course of so many years, it is not just matters of maintenance that press upon the attentive landowner. As you say, I have a duty to myself, my child, and my heritage to ensure the future prosperity of Norland Park. It is a matter of honor.”

“Very well stated, my dear. I could not agree more.”

So it was that within a fortnight of his father’s funeral, Mr. John Dashwood, his family, and their attendants were installed at Norland, and with no determined time for their departure. Though John’s letter, full of proper civility and respectable sentiments, prepared the ladies of Norland for their reception, the notice was short enough that a refusal could not be conveyed in time to prevent the encroachment. Thus was their quiet period of mourning brought to an abrupt closure, disrupted by social dictates, hostessing duties, and a determinedly rambunctious four-year-old, possessed of no consideration for his relations’ distress and perfectly capable of invading even the most secure sanctuaries sought in desperation by his aggrieved aunts, upon whom he was extremely fond of imposing himself.

In sorrow, Mrs. Dashwood must be equally carried away by her fancy, and as far beyond consolation as in pleasure, she was beyond alloy. Thus, the indelicacy of the John Dashwoods’ behavior was perceived so much the greater. Mrs. John Dashwood had never been a favorite with any of her husband's family, but she had had no opportunity, till the present, of showing them how grasping she could be. So acutely did Mrs. Dashwood, a woman of romantic mind, feel her insinuating behavior, and so earnestly did she despise her daughter-in-law for it, that she was hard-pressed to extend even the most basic of civilities. She would have been loath to do so had not the entreaty of her eldest girl induced her to reflect on the propriety of such incivility, and her own tender love for her dear departed husband not afterwards acted to temper her aggravation and, for his sake as well as that of her much beloved daughters, avoid a breach with their son and brother.

Elinor, this eldest daughter whose advice was so effectual, possessed a strength of understanding and coolness of judgment which qualified her, though only nineteen, to be the counselor of her mother and enabled her frequently to counteract that eagerness of mind in Mrs. Dashwood which must generally have led to rudeness. She had an excellent heart, her disposition was affectionate, and her feelings were strong, but she knew how to govern them. It was a knowledge which her mother had yet to learn, and which one of her sisters had resolved never to be taught.

That sister was the aforementioned Marianne, whose abilities were, in many respects, quite equal to Elinor's. She was sensible and clever but eager in everything. Her sorrows and her joys alike could have no moderation. She was generous, amiable, interesting — everything but prudent. The resemblance between her and her mother was strikingly great.

Elinor saw, with concern, the excess of her sister's sensibility, but by their mother it was valued and cherished. In their mourning, the two ladies fully encouraged each other in the violence of their affliction. The agony of grief which overpowered them at first was voluntarily renewed, was sought for, was created again and again. They gave themselves up wholly to their sorrow, seeking increase of wretchedness in every reflection that could afford it and resolved against ever admitting consolation in future. Elinor, too, was deeply afflicted, but still she could struggle; she could exert herself. She could consult with her brother, could receive her sister-in-law on her arrival and treat her with proper attention, and could strive to rouse her mother to similar exertion and encourage her to similar forbearance.

Margaret, the other sister, was a good-humored, well-disposed girl, but as she had already imbibed a good deal of Marianne's romance without having much of her sense, she did not, at thirteen, bid fair to equal her sisters at a more advanced period of life. But we should be generous; few children at that tender age do show much promise. It is a wonder so many survive to adulthood, but they somehow manage it, usually surpassing the expectations of the concerned relations who bemoaned their future not ten years before.

**********

Come back tomorrow for part two!

Twisted Austen 2020: The Ladies of Norland

It's that time of year when I insist on overtaxing myself by writing a story that few will read and might prove detrimental to my career. Welcome to Twisted Austen, my annual event conceived in the spirit of Halloween but which really just serves to infuriate and confuse my fellow Janeites. That’s not being totally fair to myself. Some readers do actually seem to really like these stories, but I write them for my own amusement. It’s a space where I can explore ideas that really aren’t marketable.

Now that I have entranced you with that confident pitch, let me inform the uninitiated that this is an eight day event, beginning tomorrow, October 24th, and running through Halloween. I will post one part of this year's story each day, and then I will publish once complete. There are likely to be giveaways, as well (I've always offered them in the past, perhaps too many), if I can pull it together in time. 

Twisted Austen was born in the wake of the monster mash-up craze that overtook this genre after the publication of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Could Austen’s beautiful stories be rendered “horrid” even without imposing monster-filled dystopian realities on her stories? If nothing else, I think I’ve proven the answer to be an emphatic yes. Why would I want to attempt such a thing? I guess I am, myself, a little twisted. I actually treasure some of the worst reviews this series has received, in a way I never could for any of my other works, because the entire point is to be a bit appalling, while provoking the reader's imagination into doing the bulk of the dirty work for me.

I launched Twisted Austen in 2012 with Emma & Elton: Something Truly Horrid. The subtitle was meant as a warning but, nevertheless, many readers were truly dismayed. It is the most disturbing of the collection, exploring what could have happened had Mr. Knightley warned Emma not to be overly attentive to Mr. Elton. Still, I really don’t understand how anyone could expect a happy ending with such a title. My very favorite review for it on Amazon is one sentence long and only two stars: “It was written, but the plot itself is so cringe-worthy and horrifying that there’s really no reason to re-read it.” I know it’s probably against my better interests to further publicize such sentiments, but I just can’t help myself. For this story, cringe-worthy is a compliment. I did, however, listen to the reviews and tone it down a little bit the following year. Jane & Bingley: Something Slightly Unsettling is not nearly so devastating as Emma and Elton in its outcome. In fact, it adheres strictly to canon, which possibly angered readers even more. The most consistent complaint about the book is its abrupt ending, which I’m glad people found unsettling. I took a story my readers know like the back of their hands and offered a different perspective – not necessarily a probable one, just a possible one – and supported it with evidence from Austen’s original text. Readers, equipped with their perfect knowledge of forthcoming events, are then left to their own conclusions. This is where Twisted Austen stories collide with typical Halloween tales, ghost stories and horror films having long exploited the fact that what goes unseen is often what frightens most. At the same time, the concept is quintessentially Austenesque, dependent as it is on the reader's knowledge of Jane’s novels.

In 2014, I wrote Becoming Mrs. Norris, a prequel to Mansfield Park. It attempts to evoke sympathy for a despised character by endowing her with a tragic backstory. I published this story convinced no one would read it. Mansfield Park is notoriously hard to sell to JAFF readers. Little surprise, it pretty much tanked upon release, but when a few reviews finally did trickle in, they were far more positive than I had expected. I guess having the name “Mrs. Norris” in the title is a better deterrent for the feint-hearted than my more expository attempts to ward them off. Those of us who read Mansfield Park fan-fiction are a rare breed, and I think I self-selected an appreciative audience.

*Just a random note about book covers. I repurposed the artwork from Emma & Elton for Becoming Mrs. Norris (who wants to spend money on a book they don’t expect to be able to sell?). Also, and as you may have observed, Twisted Austen comes to you in color this year. I have long been in the process of changing the style of my covers, and this year's story, The Ladies of Norland, is the first publication to roll out the new look. 

For two years I had to abandon Twisted Austen. We relocated to Switzerland in late summer 2015, and it was a long struggle afterwards to reestablish regular writing habits. The fact that Halloween is not widely celebrated here was of little assistance. When I finally resurrected the event in 2017, I was in a decidedly more playful mood than in previous years, even as I continued to try and redeem the unredeemable. Part prequel and part perspective-shift, I am Lady Catherine envisions that lady’s life from the time of her marriage through the end of Pride & Prejudice. The reception for this story was, by far, the most positive of the entire series and a firm reminder to me that no matter how tempting it might be to push people’s buttons, it is way more fun to earn their praise than their censure. In 2018, I tried to build upon that "success," even while delving into a very delicate subject. Young Wickham is a sequel to Pride & Prejudice that relies heavily on the plot of Mansfield Park. Instead of the Bertrams taking in a niece, we find the Darcys inviting Lydia and Wickham’s oldest son to live at Pemberley. A lot of readers were expecting this to be about Wickham's youth and were taken aback to find the action takes place in the Victorian Era. Still, the reception was strong amongst those who read it.

I'm trusting that The Ladies of Norland has not such an off-putting title as some of my others. I've experienced another Twisted Austen hiatus, this time triggered by the birth of my son, and it is a small miracle that I managed to complete it at all. It is the first real work that I have accomplish since the pandemic began. As it is, I barely finished it in time, and it is significantly shorter than my other Twisted Austen books, definitely not qualifying for the grandiose title of "novella" to which the others aspire. As you've probably surmised, this one is Sense and Sensibility based. It's a reimagination premised on the idea of old Mr. Dashwood being more generous to our heroines than Austen rendered him. Unfortunately, sometimes adversity is better for us in the long run. It's actually sort of a hopeful theme for our chaotic times. So please, come by, read along, and gasp in shock if you must. A happy Twisted Austen to all! 

Streaming the Pride and Prejudice Musical

During the hard lockdown I only had very few, very precious hours to myself. I managed to luck into a couple when the Pride and Prejudice musical flopped hard with my husband and daughter, and I was abandoned to relish it alone. I didn't really mind. 

Justin Mortellitit and Mary Mattison as
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet.

A product of Tony nominee Paul Gordon and directed by Robert Kelley of TheatreWorks, I thought the 20 euros I spent to buy the production (you can rent it for 5) a great bargain. I’m thankful for the opportunity to see it at all, as I suffer from a dearth of english language theater here in Switzerland. Furthermore, this is a pretty well filmed play. Not all of them are. It takes a lot to overcome the limitations of the lense and replicate a theatrical experience. I was pleased by the result. Check out this gorgeous promo video:

I really liked the show, but as indicated, I’m the only one in my family who did. My daughter proclaimed it unbearable and abandoned me within ten minutes. My husband thought that sufficient justification to also bow out. So I got to watch the bulk of it from my bathtub (can’t do that during a live performance!), and while I thought the beginning was a bit weak, it grew on me as the story progressed. The music was good, if not particularly memorable. It very much reminded me of something else, and I couldn’t decide if it was more Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat or Disney’s Descendants, oddly enough. I very much enjoyed the lyrics, and the dialogue, of course, was at its best when pure Austen. There are a few historical inaccuracies, but they are not the sort that would bother most viewers. I imagine a British audience might find the accents challenging, but from an American perspective, they are believable. The set also seems well-done, but I’m afraid this is one of the aspects of the theater that really suffers on film. It’s nearly impossible for the sets to achieve their full effect.

Mary Mattison as Elizabeth 
Bennet, in funny hoody thing 
(is that a zipper?!?!)

Regency lady or college student?

Before delving a bit into the individual performances, I must comment on the costuming. While I love everything about the theater (and have been known to force my family to sit through truly awful productions, just so I can soak in the atmosphere), my particular interest has always been costuming. It can make or break a show for me, and maybe the best part of streaming a production is being able to see the details in the garments all the better (why I usually spring for premium seats and bring opera glasses). I thought this production, in many ways, did a lovely job. With a period piece, costuming is pretty straightforward, or at least it should be. A thoughtful designer will either opt for historical accuracy or stylization. For the most part, costume director Jill Bowers and designer Fumiko Bielefeldt, adhere to the former aesthetic. Some of the designs are quite stunning, and bodices, sashes, and spencers are effectively utilized to alter looks between scenes. However, I did not like how they dressed Elizabeth (Mary Mattison). Her performance was great, and the costuming undermined it. It’s my biggest complaint about the show. I understand the desire for a designer to try and highlight their main character by using distinct colors and lines, thereby making them stand out from the rest of the cast, but the effect here, for me as a Janeite, was jarring. While everyone else is clothed in proper period prints and fabrics, Elizabeth’s two gowns both feature geometric designs, far more Art Deco than Georgian. The cut of her gowns is also strange, particularly the one from the first act, which has these very modern, unsupported panniers built into the sides. Oh, they bother me (you can see them much better in the video above than in my cruddy screenshots). I like the gown from act two much better, in no small part because it resembles a dress I have long owned and loved (not a costume, mind you – wouldn’t be caught dead trying to pass it off as period piece). I also adore the “cloak” she wears when walking to Neatherfield. It’s some kind of a cross between a redingote and a hoodie sweatshirt, and it’s AWESOME, just not on Lizzy Bennet. I attribute some of the responsibility to the 2005 film, which (in my opinion) made similar mistakes.

Mrs. Bennet and her daughters, from left to right:

Sharon Rietkerk, Mary Mattison, Melissa WolfKlain,

Chanel Tilghman, Tara Kostmayer, and Heather Orth.

Most of the characters, particularly Elizabeth, are modernized, again in a manor somewhat resembling the 2005 film. I have mixed feelings about it, even as I understand the choice. The goal is to make the character more relatable, but for me, it’s just a ruder version of Austen’s original. Like her costumes, I found these interludes distracting from Mattison’s excellent performance. I also did not like the first solo song she sings, in which she repeatedly celebrates “I’m headstrong!” It’s better later in the show, reprised after Elizabeth learns that it’s not always such a great quality. Jane is also mouthier than her original, but I still thought Sharon Rietkerk captured the spirit of the character beautifully.

Mary Mattison and Sharon Rietkerk
as Elizabeth and Jane Bennet.

Mr. Darcy (Justin Mortellitit) is more at ease than one might expect, and we hear his internal narrative, which is probably the play’s biggest deviation from the novel. Although his early revelations regarding his feelings for Elizabeth changes the story quite a bit, I must suppose most of the audience is familiar with the story, so it doesn’t prove much a spoiler. It also makes the character warmer, particularly in contrast to Wickham (Taylor Crousore), who is very handsome but not so charming or charismatic as the character in the book. While I thought Mortellitit an effective if not canonical Darcy (and much more my type than Crousore), I think a more boyishly roguish casting of Wickham would have made this dynamic work better. I even wonder if it might have been better with the casting reversed, at least visually. As it is, I was left wondering what Elizabeth ever saw in Wickham.

Justin Mortellitit as Mr. Darcy.

I get the impression that Paul Gordon has a pretty personal connection to Darcy. This is where his voice, rather than Austen’s, breaks through. Darcy’s role is much larger in this production than it is in the book, and Gordon clearly has a strong notion of who and what Mr. Darcy should be, all of which I find believable and supported by Austen’s text. This interpretive characterization is probably the most interesting part of the play.

Monique Hafen Adams and Travis Leland as Caroline
and Charles Bingley. My favorite gown in the show!

Mr. Bingley is very well captured by Travis Leland. He is portrayed as tongue-tied and shy, which threw me off at first, but it comes together in the end, setting up his proposal scene to be one of the best moments in the play (as it should be). I also thought that Monique Hafen Adams as quite convincing as Caroline Bingley (as is so often the case, poor Mrs. Hurst and her husband were cut from the tale). Of the Bennet sister’s, I especially liked Mary (Melissa WolfKlain), who helped maintain a comic atmosphere, which was much needed, as I thought all the humor entirely sapped from Mr. Collins (Brian Herndon) and Lady Catherine’s (Lucinda Hitchcock Cone) characters. The former came off as predatory (maybe this is another nod to the contemporary world?), and the latter rather like Cruella De Vil. Maybe it was the jazzy song she sang. She did nail the imperiousness, but the comedy was missing from the script.

Melissa WolfKlain as Mary Bennet,
in fabulous day dress.

I think the very last line of the play, spoken by Elizabeth, reveals a lot about the spirit of this adaptation: “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. Still not true!”

Hmmmmmm.

Overall, I really enjoyed escaping into this version of Pride and Prejudice. Streamingmusicals.com also has the company’s earlier production of Gordon’s Emma. They are staging his new Sense and Sensibility in December. I could get hooked.

Here is a clip featuring some of the songs from the show and a few more screenshots (with commentary). Enjoy!

And from the back. Sorry for the blur.

I adore Miss Bingley’s gown.
My feelings about Miss Bennet’s
I won’t repeat.

Taylor Crousore and Mary Mattison

Gotta swoon for a great coat.

Lucinda Hitchcock Cone as Lady Catherine and company.

Brian Herndon, Lucinda Hitchcock Cone, and Christopher
Vettel as Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Reynolds, apparently

Strange Beauty Secrets from the Late 18th/Early 19th Centuries

When posting my Twisted Austen story I am Lady Catherine way back in 2017, I received a lot of comments regarding a reference to an 18th century beauty treatment called pigeon water. This is indeed a real thing, used by none other than Marie Antoinette, who was said to have bathed her face in it every day. I hunted down the recipe for its preparation in the 1832 text The Toilette of Health, Beauty, and Fashion (read it here). This comprehensive book covers a wide swath of topics, as indicated by its incredibly lengthy subtitle (see the image of the cover page – it’s WAY too long to reproduce). I imagine it was mainly marketed to lady’s maids and valets. I found the history provided of both beauty treatments and fashion very interesting, though I should warn the modern reader that many of the comments are decidedly lacking in political correctness. I was inspired by the interest in pigeon water (see the recipe for Denmark Lotion below) to transcribe a few of the more outlandish preparations for both your amusement and revulsion, many of which are virtually impossible to imagine producing without an army of servants and were certain to wreck havoc on the health. I doubt it needs be said but for forms sake, I ask that you please do not attempt any of these at home.

Note: a drachm is a liquid measurement once used by apothecaries, equal to one eighth of an ounce.

From Chapter VII: Of Hair Ointments, Powders, Oils, Waters, &c.

1.–Ointment for the Hair.

The editors of the “Dictionaire d’Industrie,” from which the following recipe is copied, assert that they have often witnessed the most surprising results from its use.

Take an ounce of beef marrow, to which add an ounce of grease skimmed from unsalted pot liquor, and boil them together in a pipkin. Strain this mixture, and add to it an ounce of the oil of ben. Let this be used occasionally, and the hair well combed and brushed, both before and after its use, to remove the previous scurf, and to work the preparation well into the roots of the hair, and along the tubes.

OBS.–Beef marrow applied moderately to the hair of the head nourishes it, and communicates to it a fine gloss, as may be frequently seen among butchers, who often apply it.  Whatever therefore nourishes, strengthens. The marrow also give it a disposition to curl. The oil of ben has long been entered into preparations for making the hair grow, and if a little of the essence of lemon, bergamot, or other other perfume were added, it would, at least, improve its fragrance, and preserve it against rancidity.

From Chapter VIII: Directions for Staining the Hair.

To stain Hair a light Chestnut Colour.

The hair is to be previously cleaned with dry bran, or warm water, in which alum has been dissolved. Then take two ounces of quick lime, which kill in the air; one ounce of litharge of gold, and half an ounce of lead ore. Reduce the hole to a powder, and sift it. Wet a small quantity of this powder with rose water ; rub the hair with it, and let it dry again in the air, and dry it with cloths a little warm. This powder does not stain the skin, like the wash made with aquafortis and assaying silver.

OBS.–It has been asserted that the hair may be stained black by impregnating it with lard, mixed with minium and lime ; but this composition, we apprehend, would produce only the chestnut colour of which we are here speaking. The hair may likewise be turned black by different vegetable substances boiled in wine, with which the hair is to be washed several times a day ; but this operation ought to be continued for some time. The substances usually preferred for the purpose are, leaves of the mulberry, myrtle, fig, senna, raspberry, arbutus, artichoke ; the roots of the caper tree ; the bark of the walnut and pomegranate ; the rinds of walnut, shumac, skins of beans, gall nuts, and cones of cypress. It is also necessary to use a leaden comb. The same object may be obtained by using a comb dipped in extract of lead.

From Chapter IX: On The Removal of Superfluous Hair

Depilatory of Ants Eggs.

A stronger depilatory is composed as follow: —

Take Gun of ivy, one once

Ants’ eggs }

Gum arabic } of each one drachm.

Orpiment }

Reduce these to a fine powder, and make it up into a liniment, with a sufficient quantity of vinegar. In pounding the materials, great precaution must be taken that the dust of the orpiment, which is a preparation of arsenic, be not inhaled.

OBS.–The formic acid, or acid of ants, may more easily be procured at the chemist’s, and will answer the purpose better than ants’ eggs, which are not to be had at all seasons.

To remove Hair from the Nostrils.

Take some very fine and clean wood ashes ; dilute them with a little water, and with the finger rub some of the mixture within the nostrils. The hair will be removed without causing the least pain.

OBS.– The hair of the nostrils, like those of the entrance to the ear, ought not to be removed, unless troublesome or unseemly ; they are the principal safeguards against the intrusion of insects, which might otherwise insinuate themselves into these delicate passages, to the great annoyance and danger of the individual thus invaded.

Portrait of Marie Antoinette, Queen of France.
Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun. Oil on canvas, c. 1788. 
New Orleans Museum of Art.

From Chapter X: Cosmetics.

Denmark Lotion.

Take equal parts of bean-flower, and the water of the four cold seeds–namely, of pompion, melon, cucumber, and gourd, and of fresh cream ; beat the whole up together, adding a sufficient quantity of milk to make a wash, which apply to the face.

OBS.–This recipe is taken from the “Ami de Femmes.” Another writer says, that the cosmetic lotion used by the ladies of Denmark is totally different–it is what is called Eau de Pigeon (pigeon-water). It is composed as follows:–

“Take the juice of water-lilies, of melons, of cucumbers, of lemons, each one ounce; briony, wild succory, lily-flowers, borage, beans, of each a handful ; eight pigeons stewed. Put the whole mixture into an alembic, adding four ounces of lump sugar, well pounded, one drachm of borax, the same quantity of camphor, the crumb of three French rolls, and a pint of white wine. When the whole has remained in digestion for seventeen or eighteen days, proceed to distillation, and you will obtain pigeon-water, which is such an improvement on the complexion.”

 

A Pomatum to remove Redness, or Pimples in the Face.

Steep in clear water a pound of boar’s check till it becomes tolerably white ; drain it quite dry, and put it into a new glazed earthen pan with two or three hard pippins, quartered ; an ounce and a half of the four cold seeds, bruised, and a slice of veal about the size of the palm of your hand. Boil the whole together in a vapour bath for four hours, then with a string cloth squeeze out your pomatum into an earthen dish, placed upon hot ashes ; add to it an ounce of white bees’ wax and an ounce of the oil of sweet almonds, stir it with a wooden spatula till it becomes cold.

From Chapter XVI: Mouth, Tongue, Throat, Teeth, and Gums.

Another (Dentifrices).

Rub them with nettle or tobacco ashes, or with vine ashes, mixed with a little honey.

From Chapter XIX: Eyes and Nose.

For watery and inflamed Eyes.

Foment frequently with decoction of poppy heads ; when the irritation and inflammation occur, a teaspoonful of cogniac brandy, in four ounces of spring water, may be used three or four times in the course of the day as a strengthening lotion.

 

From Chapter XXI: Eyelashes.

The growth of the eye-lashes has been promoted, where they have been lost by sore eyes, by the following simple ointment:–

Take ointment of nitric oxyde of mercury; 2 drachms

Hogs lard – – – – – – – – – – 1 drachm

Incorporate the ointment well with the lard, and anoint the edges of the eye-lids night and morning ; washing after each time with milk and water, warm.

From Chapter XXIII: The Hands and Nails.

For Chapped Hands.

Take three drachms of bole ammoniac–three drachms of myrrh, and a drachm of white lead.–Incorporate these with a sufficient quantity of goose-grease ; and with this anoint the parts affected; and wear worsted gloves.

The Ladies of Norton, Coming Soon!

I'm writing! Wow! It feels good and has been way, way too long. I've only carved out a few days to get this Twisted Austen story completed, but it will hopefully be ready to post here the week before Halloween. If I miss my self-imposed deadline, I'll post it late. Whenever it's ready. It's just really excited to be working on something new, and I am having a blast with this twist. Mrs. Dashwood inherits a life residency at Norland Park and her daughters each have ten thousand pounds, but will this improvement to their fortunes result in happily ever afters? I can't wait to share. In the meantime, what do you think of the cover?

Harping on Harps

Lady with a Harp: Eliza Ridgely, 1818.
Thomas Sully, oil on canvas.
National Gallery of Art.

Inspired by an article in Persuasions, I have been dwelling on the role the harp plays in Austen’s novels. The essay points to the instrument as an indicator of social status, as only the quite wealthy had both the leisure to learn and the ability to afford one. I was further struck by how Austen, with remarkably playful precision, utilises this stature accorded to the harp to highlight the inequalities of Regency society. It’s very scarcity in the novels marks it as elite. Only a handful of characters can play: Georgiana Darcy, Mary Crawford, at least one of the Misses Musgroves, and a Miss Beaufort in the unfinished novel Sanditon. Mary Crawford is the only one whose performance is part of the plot, and her knowledge of the harp illustrates the vast gulf of difference that lays between Miss Crawford and Fanny Price in Mansfield Park, both socially and morally. The harp was at the cutting edge of fashion: the perfect accessory for the classical greek and roman silhouettes then in vogue. Mary, performing in a carefully draped empire gown, undoubtedly resembled one of the many fashion plates of the era featuring the harp. It was a rather sensual look, as the harp hugs the figure and accentuates bare arms, evoking images of loosely clad nymphs, muses, and sirens. As Austen notes, “A young woman, pretty, lively, with a harp as elegant as herself, and both placed near a window, cut down to the ground, and opening on a little lawn, surrounded by shrubs in the rich foliage of summer, was enough to catch any man’s heart.” Fanny, on the other hand, has never even heard a harp played, let alone thought about how to pose with one to advantage. She has spent almost her entire life in seclusion at Mansfield, while Mary epitomises urbane sophistication.

Costume Parisien, 1800.

In Sanditon, which Austen was working on until illness interfered in the last months of her life, the harp presents an appearance of affluence, and as every sharp reader of Austen knows, appearances can deceive. The story is set in a fictional seaside resort promoted by a local gentleman named Mr. Parker, who has heavily invested in making Sanditon “the favourite spot of all that are to be found along the coast of Sussex—the most favoured by nature, and promising to be the most chosen by man.” As he and his wife escort the story’s heroine to their home, where she is to spend her summer, the sound of a harp, along with other indicators, are pointed out as heralds of his venture’s success:

The original village contained little more than cottages; but the spirit of the day had been caught, as Mr. Parker observed with delight to Charlotte, and two or three of the best of them were smartened up with a white curtain and “Lodgings to let,” and farther on, in the little green court of an old farm house, two females in elegant white were actually to be seen with their books and camp stools; and in turning the corner of the baker’s shop, the sound of a harp might be heard through the upper casement.

Such sights and sounds were highly blissful to Mr. Parker. Not that he had any personal concern in the success of the village itself; for considering it as too remote from the beach, he had done nothing there; but it was a most valuable proof of the increasing fashion of the place altogether. If the village could attract, the hill might be nearly full. He anticipated an amazing season.

La Belle Assemblée, 1809.

Amongst those (not quite) flocking to Sanditon are the Misses Beauforts and Miss Lambe, three young ladies in the charge of Mrs. Griffiths, “a very well-behaved, genteel kind of woman, who supported herself by receiving such great girls and young ladies as wanted either masters for finishing their education or a home for beginning their displays.” The following description of the Misses Beauforts is magnificently derisive, much in the manner of Austen’s earliest work:

The other girls, two Miss Beauforts, were just such young ladies as may be met with, in at least one family out of three, throughout the kingdom. They had tolerable complections, showy figures, an upright decided carriage and an assured look; they were very accomplished and very ignorant, their time being divided between such pursuits as might attract admiration, and those labours and expedients of dexterous ingenuity by which they could dress in a style much beyond what they ought to have afforded; they were some of the first in every change of fashion. And the object of all was to captivate some man of much better fortune than their own.

Mrs. Griffiths had preferred a small, retired place like Sanditon on Miss Lambe’s account; and the Miss Beauforts, though naturally preferring anything to smallness and retirement, having in the course of the spring been involved in the inevitable expense of six new dresses each for a three-days visit, were constrained to be satisfied with Sanditon also till their circumstances were retrieved. There, with the hire of a harp for one and the purchase of some drawing paper for the other, and all the finery they could already command, they meant to be very economical, very elegant and very secluded; with the hope, on Miss Beaufort’s side, of praise and celebrity from all who walked within the sound of her instrument, and on Miss Letitia’s, of curiosity and rapture in all who came near her while she sketched; and to both, the consolation of meaning to be the most stylish girls in the place. The particular introduction of Mrs. Griffiths to Miss Diana Parker secured them immediately an acquaintance with the Trafalgar House family and with the Denhams; and the Miss Beauforts were soon satisfied with “the circle in which they moved in Sanditon,” to use a proper phrase, for everybody must now “move in a circle” to the prevalence of which rotatory motion is perhaps to be attributed the giddiness and false steps of many.

The Sirens and Ulysses, 1837.
William Etty, Oil on Canvas.
Manchester City Galleries

I could easily write an entire post digging through those two paragraphs alone, as they contain so much social commentary, but let’s just focus on the harp’s role. Its hire (as well as the purchased drawing-paper) was no cheap feat, undermining the professed economy just as much as the over-abundant wardrobes. Even more than Miss Crawford sitting in her window frame, Miss Beaufort is literally playing the siren, using her music to lure (preferably wealthy) gentlemen to her. Like so many of the “feminine accomplishments” we see in Austen, the harp is used as bait to catch a wealthy husband. Their performances on the pianoforte help mark Marianne Dashwood, Elizabeth Bennet, and Jane Fairfax as worthy of social elevation, why should the more alluring harp not function similarly for Miss Beaufort? All I can say is that it didn’t end up working out so well for Miss Crawford. Perhaps the staid pianoforte makes a better impression, after all.

Mansfield Park, Chapter Seven.
C.E. Brock, watercolor.
Mollands.net.

Emma Woodhouse says to Mr. Knightley when he arrives at a party in a carriage, “‘This is coming as you should do,’ said she; ‘like a gentleman,'” and chides him when he fails to do so. She would not need to so admonish Austen’s harps. When they ride, they ride in style, even supplanting Louisa Musgrove’s place in her family carriage. Louisa’s willingness to walk the short distance to Uppercross cottage might seem merely accommodating to a modern reader, but think of how offended Mary Musgrove would be were such a suggestion made to her. For those concerned with precedence, as most at the time were, the harp riding in Louisa’s stead is a very real insult to her dignity. Miss Crawford’s harp is afforded even greater status, for it is not forced to crowd into a family coach: “Henry, who is good-nature itself, has offered to fetch it in his barouche. Will it not be honourably conveyed?” The method of transport may be honorable, but for all its glamorous trappings (or maybe because of them), Austen seems uncertain of the harp’s respectability. All the women in her novels who are associated with the harp are morally problematic except for Miss Darcy (unless you hold Wickham against her), but much more attention is paid to her ability on the piano. That she plays is only ever mentioned by Miss Bingley, just before she rattles off her list of qualifications to be considered an accomplished lady. Of our other harpists, it can be said that Miss Beaufort is vapid and grasping, the Misses Musgroves are giddy to the point of imprudence, and Miss Crawford possesses, to use Edmund Bertram’s words, “a dash of evil.” The very sophistication that makes Mary and her brother so appealing is also what taints their characters, and Fanny’s insular purity triumphs over them both.

There you have the gist of my thoughts, or at least those coherent enough to share. Please enjoy some music from the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice, played on the harp, of course, as I bid you goodbye. It’s really very lovely and not all wicked and debauched. Sorry.