Lady Caroline Lamb: Fiction vs. History

The "three or four families in a country village" which Jane Austen chose to focus upon did not allow her scope to include the grand personages of her day. This, however, does not stop writers of Austenesque from including those larger than life personalities, the celebrities that determined the manner in which the Regency Era lives on in our imaginations, in their reworkings of Austen's novels. People like the Prince Regent, Beau Brummel, Lord Byron, and Lady Jersey can all be found in the thousands of stories that Austen has inspired, both directly and indirectly, and I have recently been reflecting on the way in which fiction has determined my feelings about these people. The inspiration for this train of thought comes from Our Tempestuous Day: A History of Regency England by Carolly Erickson, which I just read, and her depiction of Lady Caroline Lamb. She writes:

Caroline's fashionable circle dazzled Byron, but her explosively original personality dazzled him even more. "She possessed an infinite vivacity of mind," he wrote, and in truth her quicksilver facility with words and love of wordplay was like him own, though more heated.


"My most sanative elixir of Julep, my most precious cordial confection," she wrote, addressing her cousin Lord Hartington as if he were a medicine chest, "my most dilutable sal polychrist and marsh mallows paste, truly comfortable spirit of hartshorn tincture of rhubarb and purgative senna tea!" Her letters were a quirky, eccentric jumble of exclamations, playful archaisms, deft verbal dodges and feints, the whole working together to scan like poetry. Sometimes they were in poetry, or rather light verse. Her conversation, it is safe to suppose, was as brilliantly eccentric as her writing, intense and full of curiosity and wit, with abrupt changes of mood and subject that kept her listeners enthralled.

This image conflicts with the assumptions I had made about Lady Caroline, almost entirely based upon the fictional accounts of her I have come across in novels. Suddenly she seemed a brilliant woman trapped in a restrictive world, just like Austen. Though familiar with her basic biography (summarized quite nicely at http://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/2007/03/11/lady-caroline-lamb/), I had never taken any interest in her infamous novel, Glenarvon, and generally breezed over her role in history, content in my disinterest. Now I feel compelled to study her further, and I intend to read a biography of her (I'll let you know how that goes), and possibly peruse the suspicious novel. My prejudice towards Glenarvon is based almost solely upon the depiction Georgette Heyer supplies of both the novel and its author in Bath Tangle (which I reviewed here):

"Good God, no! It is the most absurd farrago of nonsense! But I prophesy it will run through a dozen editions, because none of us will be able to resist searching either for ourselves or our acquaintance in it. Could you have believed it? - Lady Caroline Lamb is the author? The Lambs are all in it, and Lady Holland-very well hit off, I imagine, from all i have ever heard of her, but Papa disliked that set, so that I was never at Holland House - and Lady Oxford, and Lady Jersey, and poor Mr. Rogers, whom she calls a yellow hyena? I must say, I think it unjust, don't you? Glenarvon, of course, is Byron, and the whole thing is designed as a sort of vengeance on him for having cried off from his affaire with her."


"Good God!" he exclaimed. "She must be mad to have done such a thing!"


"I think she is, poor soul! Never more so than when she tumbled head over ears in love with Byron! For my part, I was so unfashionable as to take him in instant aversion. How she could have borne with his insufferable conceit, and the airs he put on to be interesting, I know not - though I daresay if one could bear that dreadful Lamb laugh nothing would daunt one! Not but what I am extremely sorry for William Lamb, laugh as he may! If it is true that he stands by her, I do most sincerely honour him. I fancy she met to portray him in a kindly way, but some of the things she writes of him may well make him writhe. She is so very obliging as to favour the world with what one can only take to be a description of her own honeymoon - so warm as to make poor Fanny blush to the ears! It can't be pleasant for William Lamb, but it won't harm him. For she portrays herself, in the character of Calantha, as an innocent child quite dazzled by the world, quite ignorant, wholly trusting in the virtue of every soul she met! Pretty well for a girl brought up in Devonshire House!"

Needless to say, after reading the above, I felt I had knew enough of what sounds here like little more than a tabloid written by a spoiled girl in midst of a temper tantrum.

It is one of Heyer's great appeals to a Janeite that she ventures so far beyond the world of Austen. Pamela Aidan is another author to vividly portray the world of the ton in her Fitzwilliam Darcy, Gentleman trilogy. After Heyer, it is Aidan's representation of Lady Caroline Lamb in the first book, An Assembly Such as This, that has most determined my negligence of her, for here she is an object of Fitzwilliam Darcy's abhorrence (I shudder at the thought):

A private entrance to the room lay open to Darcy's left, and from its secrecy he saw emerge the tawny-crowned person of Lady Caroline Lamb on the arm of a gentleman quite unknown to him. From where he stood he could see only her face, her delicate chin raised high, her eyes glittering in amusement and daring. As she and her companion made their way through the throng, it parted before them, and Darcy noted more than a few faces of both ladies and gentlemen color and turn away from the procession.


Suddenly, an older woman sank in a faint, the gentlemen nearest to her crying out in dismay. Several young ladies followed her example, and soon the floor was littered here and there with insensible females being coaxed into consciousness by alarmed young men who, nevertheless, craned their necks to catch another glimpse of the source of the uproar. More than a few women were being propelled from the room by insistent husbands or fathers amid shouts for carriages and cloaks.


"What the devil is going on?" Darcy demanded of the chaos around him. Dy tugged at his sleeve and solemnly pointed back down the room to where Lady Caroline and her swain had finally broken free from her mother-in-law's guests. Darcy's draw dropped in disbelief while his own face flooded crimson.

I felt the need not to include more, so as to not ruin the story for those unfamiliar with it, but you can see from this excerpt how the lady could make a poor impression. On a side note, I just read Ms. Aidan's contribution to Jane Austen Made Me Do It, entitled "The Riding Habit", and enjoyed it very much.

So compelled by Erickson, I now feel the need admit my prejudices and, in atonement, to reevaluate Lady Caroline. If she continues to hold my interest, you will be sure to hear more of her soon.

Jane Austen Made Me Do It: "Jane Austen, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!" by Janet Mullany and "Letters to Lydia" by Maya Slater

Two more Jane Austen Made Me Do It reviews, both by well-established Austen writers. The two stories looked at side by side reveal the extraordinary diversity of this collection, edited by Laurel Ann Nattress of Austenprose. The first, "Jane Austen, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!" by Janet Mullany (author of the awesome vampirization of our beloved Miss Austen, Jane and the Damned), reflects on the enduring nature of Austen's appeal. Set in an all girls high school in the early 1960s, Julie Morton, the young Latin teacher, finds the satisfaction her job and personal life has previously lacked while monitoring detention. The three girls she oversees got in trouble for telling "Mrs. Henderson what we thought of Sense and Sensibility". Julie begins questioning them about the story, using their feelings for The Beatles to make Austen's work accessible. The story captures the sensations of a time of great cultural changes, both showing how the appeal of great art, like Austen (and The Beatles), is timeless, while also provoking the reader to dwell on the nature of popular phenomenon. In this sense, it is a thoroughly modern tale that Ms. Mullany presents, despite the fact that its topic is rooted in the past. It strikes me as one of the most literary contributions to this collection.

What a contrast to the next story! "Letters to Lydia" by Maya Slater (author of The Private Life of Mr. Darcy) is a traditional Austenesque undertaking, an epistolary collection from the pen of Maria Lucas which presents a very different perspective on the events of Pride and Prejudice. The tale begins with letters from Maria while she stays at Hunsford to Lydia Bennet, the focal subject of the correspondence being the young ladies' assumptions regarding a clandestine relationship between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. The story continues through Lydia's elopement and marriage, offering explanations as to how Lady Catherine learned of Elizabeth and Darcy's potential union and hinting at Wickham's motivations when he seduced Lydia. The story is very well executed, providing precisely the kind of cathartic extras that drive Janeites to consume JAFF. It is exactly the kind of story that I hoped for in this collection. 

Sense and Sensibility Janeicillin: Part Three

Read Part One and Part Two

The first month of their marriage was spent by Edward and Elinor with Colonel Brandon at the Mansion-house, from whence they could superintend the progress of the Parsonage, and direct everything as they liked on the spot. They chose papers, planned shrubberies, and invented a sweep, all which went far in the elevation of the humble parsonage into a transparently genteel dwelling. Their host was all accommodation, and he would have happily kept the couple for a far longer time, but even dilatory workmen will, eventually, complete their assigned tasks, a blessing as our newlyweds were quite anxious to spend their first evening under their very own roof. They were only so slow in indulging this pleasure as their pragmatism dictated, for neither was so romantic as to believe that a roof which leaked, regardless of personal ownership, was anything but a nuisance. Such were the details that had to be completed before taking possession, but taken care of they were, and on the day they moved in all they had left to wish for was rather better pasturage for their cows.

Elinor and Edward were not now forced to discover how long they would relish being alone in each other's company, for not a week after their occupation of the parsonage, Mrs. Jennings arrived to ensure their entertainment and ward off solitude. If they resented this intrusion upon their newly-found privacy, they did nothing to betray such inhospitable sentiments. Mrs. Jennings, a lover of company herself, was not burdened with any thoughts of being intrusive. As far as she was concerned, the happy couple enjoyed her two week stay as much as she did, and all could only regret that it did not last longer. However, upon the young Palmer child coming down with its first cold, each cough causing Charlotte hysterics and her husband chagrin, the matron's presence was deemed essential at Cleveland, to which she set out forthwith upon reception of these tidings. Secretly, and guiltily, the Ferrarses were exceedingly grateful for such a well-timed ailment. Promising Mrs. Jennings that she was always welcome at anytime, they saw her off with few regrets, sincere in both their expressed sentiments and their desire that "anytime" would not come too soon.

Mrs. Jennings was not the only person anxious to grace the parsonage with her presence. She was merely the first of several guests. It was not long before Mrs. Ferrars arrived to inspect the happiness which she was almost ashamed of having authorized. What were Elinor's feelings upon welcoming the woman who had once gone to excessive lengths to offend her, and whom she now called mother? Complex, to say the least, but strict adherence to her policy of general civility did much to assist her through the ordeal. Fortunately, the grand lady did not stay long, for while she felt her own consequence increase within walls too small to retain such magnificence, she also felt enough concern for her son's welfare not to wish them to buckle under the burden of such unaccustomed pressure. Having done her maternal duty, she quickly made her way back to the more accommodating dimensions of her London town home.

There is nothing like a most disagreeable guest to make only mildly disagreeable guests comparatively attractive. Thus it was that the arrival of John and Fanny Dashwood, not long after Mrs. Ferrars departure, was greeted with less feigned pleasure than one might expect. Indeed, it was Fanny who was most discomfited by the visit, having voiced so vociferously her opposition to the match now come to fruition. She and Elinor were necessarily destined to spend a considerable amount of time in each other's company during their stay, and as loath as one is to admit it, it was to Fanny credit that she began their first day by making reference to the vast quantity of compliments she had fallen into the habit of receiving for the pair of screens Elinor had so beautifully executed on her behalf. Elinor understood this peace offering as intended, and as it was a great deal more acknowledgment of past wrongs than she had expected from her sister, the two were able to proceed amiably from that point on. Marianne occasionally joined them, the lure of Colonel Brandon's library drawing her forth to Delaford whenever she could contrive it, and while she would not so easily forgive as Elinor, her demeanor did not betray any lingering resentment.

Elinor made the most of the opportunity afforded by the Dashwood's visit to to reaffirm her relationship to her brother, recognizing that familial ties, be they agreeable or not, were vastly important to maintain, especially now that she found herself united closer than ever to him. They often walked together in the mornings when Edward's parish duties kept him occupied, and as Fanny was no great walker, this was an apt time for the siblings to share confidences. It was on one such occasion, towards the end of the Dashwood's stay, that John confessed the following:

"I will not say that I am disappointed, my dear sister," he said, as they past before the gates of Delaford House, "That would be saying too much, for certainly you have been one of the most fortunate young women in the world, as it is. But, I confess, it would give me great pleasure to call Colonel Brandon brother. His property here, his place, his house, every thing is in such respectable and excellent condition!--and his woods!--I have not seen such timber any where in Dorsetshire, as there is now standing in Delaford Hanger!--And though, perhaps, Marianne may not seem exactly the person to attract him--yet I think it would altogether be advisable for you to have them now frequently staying with you, for as Colonel Brandon seems a great deal at home, nobody can tell what may happen--for, when people are much thrown together, and see little of anybody else--and it will always be in your power to set her off to advantage, and so forth;--in short, you may as well give her a chance--You understand me."--

Elinor had the grace to not betray her own hopes in this direction, only smiling her acquisence, but when John renewed the subject with his wife on their journey home to Norland, he was surprised by her response.

"I would not be surprised if that is precisely how matters unfold, and that our next visit to your family will find us staying at the great house."

"But do you think Marianne could atract a man like Colonel Brandon? A year ago, perhaps, but having lost her bloom, I see nothing but the convenience of her company to entrance him. I have suggested to Elinor that she would do well to throw them together quite often."

"You miss a great deal, John. Marianne has almost fully recovered her looks, and her disposition is vastly improved. Her manners used to venture on embarrassing, but she has grown quite presentable. Furthermore, she seeks out the Colonel on the pretense of accessing his library with surprising regularity. I am rather shocked your mother allows it, but she never was able to regulate the conduct of her daughters. Nevertheless, when a young woman sets her cap on an aging bachelor, do not bet against her success."

John, as usual, was quite pleased to embrace his wife's perspective, especially as it conformed so nicely to his own wishes. "Indeed! I think you might be right, my dear. What a match it would be! What timber! Did you take the time to properly observe the hanger?"

"Who could not? It is a vast deal more than Marianne should be any right expect, but I always did think your sisters would do well for themselves. We must have the entire family to Norland soon. You mustn't be neglecting your mother, you know."

“No indeed!” exclaimed John, newly impressed by the infinite wisdom of his wife.

Jane Austen Made Me Do It: "What Would Austen Do?" by Jane Rubino and Caitlen Rubino-Bradway

I'm skipping over a couple of stories in Jane Austen Made Me Do It which I intend to review because I just finished "What Would Austen Do?" by Jane Rubino and Caitlen Rubino-Bradway and am "all alive", as Lady Bertram might say, with the story. This tale was a very unexpected pleasure as I found the authoresses' novel, Lady Vernon and her Daughter (read my review, one of the first I ever wrote, here), extremely frustrating, and because the first paragraph seemed particularly unpromising. How wrong I was! I loved this depiction of teenage rebellion being channeled trough Jane Austen, even though it was almost as fantastic as the vampire, werewolf, and zombie stories it mocks. It was a decidedly fun tale, and I wish it was far longer than a short story.

James Austen is definitely a character I could have followed for a few hundred pages. Ordered by his Janeite mother to spend his summer constructively, he accidentally signs up for an English country dance seminar. His interest in Jane Austen explodes and instead of spending the summer months conforming to one of the dominant cliches at school, each determined to be real-life incarnations of their favorite monsters, he transforms himself into the modern parody of Mr. Darcy. When the story begins, James' parents have been called into the principals office, for such unaccountabel behavior as their son has displayed requires explanation:

"For example - the way he's been coming to school. His attire," Mr. Oakes said.


"His attire?" Mom could go the full Lady Catherine de Bourgh in three syllables flat.


Taptaptaptaptap. "I know we don't have a dress code - per se - but don't you think the way he's dressing - every day a button-down shirt, slacks. A, um, yie?"


And Mom goes, "In the hall, I saw two kids with their incisors capped with fangs, a half dozen girls with Kabuki makeup and black lipstick, and someone of indeterminate gender who was sporting a tail."...

M. Oakes sighed. "And it's his language."


"His language?"


"It's not just the 'please' and 'thank you' and "i beg your pardon' and -"

"Excuse me?"


"That too. Not just what he says, Mrs. Austen, it's the way he says it. His teachers tell me when he's called on, he stands up. He holds doors open for them. He's gotten extremely..."

"'Well behaved, polite, and unassuming?'"

This story is a Janeites daydream of the perfect teenage son, rebelling by taking to heart the lessons of Austen, making others feel good by following the dictates of polite society, and finding success with the ladies by being the perfect gentleman. It is by far one of the best modern-set, Austen-themed tales I have ever read. My prejudices against the authoresses are entire undone.

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

Sense and Sensibility Janeicillin: Part Two

Read Part One

The welcome that Edward received when he returned to Barton Cottage was as warm and embracing as his own family’s reception had been cold and distant. In Mrs. Dashwood he discovered the motherly care that Mrs. Ferrars had never provided, in Marianne and Margaret he felt the all the sisterly affection that was lacking between himself and Fanny, and in Elinor, who had always been so guarded in her expressing her feelings, he experienced all the loving support that had been absent for so long from his life. At Barton he could be himself without fear of censure, free from all the discomfort that society and its pretensions had imposed upon him. His liberation was indubitable, and in its embrace he flourished.

“Where would I be without you, my dear Elinor?” he mused one morning as they walked along the downs, enjoying the fresh summer air.

She smiled amusedly, “Certainly not at Barton, one would imagine, though you seemed to already have had an affinity for Devonshire.”  

“It is cruel of you to tease me on that point,” he responded, though the charge was belied by the grin that graced his countenance. “I mean what kind of man would I be in the process of becoming? What sort of clergyman could I be with the burdens of an unhappy home life sapping my energy? I’m sure I would have commenced well, but as time took it’s toll and despondency set in, I would surely have deteriorated into a sad figure. With you I will have every motivation to make my flock as happy and prosperous as possible, as I will know just such felicities at home.”

“You assume a great deal, Edward. Who is to say that, upon marriage, I will not prove a harpy, the very bane of your existence? One never quite knows how such things will unfold in a marriage. I always thought Lucy was at least well prepared for the challenges of running a rectory. She would have been a far better economizer than I fear I shall prove.”

“Must we speak of her?” Edward sighed wearily.

“Unfortunately, I think courtesy demands it. When we consider how much she, in all likelihood, is discussing us, it is only right that we return the consideration.” They shared an amused glance. “In all seriousness, Edward, no one is more pleased with the outcome of our predicament than I, but had Lucy not been so accommodating as to elope with your brother, and your marriage had proceeded as planned, you would have a great deal of choice in your course of action. You might have, as described, succumbed to hopelessness, or you could have made the best of your situation and found joy and contentment in the fulfillment of your duties. Neglect would have only worsened your lot.”

“Precisely. You always know just how one should behave, and at my side will force me into being a far better man than I ever could manage to become without you.”

“What you now perceive as worthy advice, you may someday regard as a plague. I have heard many a married man dismiss his wife’s urgings as an annoyance or, even worse, a torment.”

“That will not be us,” he said with conviction.

“We will surely find out,” she laughed. “That is our luxury.”

Elinor and Edward did not spend all their time basking in the joys of newly declared love. Colonel Brandon called regularly to discuss the actions he was enthusiastically taking towards the improvement of Delaford Parsonage, which also proved the perfect excuse to loiter with Marianne over her books. Even if Mrs. Dashwood hadn’t been so forthcoming about her hopes for this pairing, it would not taken Edward long to perceive that in Colonel Brandon he might someday have that brother who, unlike Robert, would be a reliable companion and friend. Readily he joined in the conspiracy to see this worthy gentleman’s aspirations realized, often abandoning their discussion upon the most contrived excuses when Marianne entered the room, leaving one of the ladies to play unobtrusive chaperon, her attention far more consumed by her work than her duties.

And now, dear reader, I ask your pardon as I step back from the world of the 19th century to assume the voice of a 21st century observer. You see, all that stood in the way of a quick marriage between Elinor and Edward were the improvements with which Colonel Brandon had so interested himself, and it is on this note that our modern experiences provide a great deal of insight. I ask all of you who have ever employed a contractor for any work on your own home, be it the mere replacement of a deteriorating window pane or a full kitchen remodel, to empathize with the interminable nature of the wait to which our hero and heroine were now subjected. Not even the most reliable contractor can be realistically expected to finish a project within the projected time frame, and though Colonel Brandon had his own workers - ready, able, and cheap - hard at work on the parsonage, unforeseeable complications were just as inevitable two hundred years ago as they are today. And so it is understandable how, after three months of setbacks, a thousand disappointments and delays from the unaccountable dilatoriness of the workmen, Elinor declared herself unwilling to wait any longer and the wedding was held forthwith, Colonel Brandon, ever accommodating, offered the newlyweds shelter in his house as they oversaw the remaining work on the nearby parsonage. It may not be the most romantic wedding trip, but Elinor and Edward, pragmatic and complacent, were appropriately grateful for their benefactor’s hospitality. The Colonel did entertained some hope that Marianne would act as companion to her sister, an idea enthusiastically suggested by Mrs. Dashwood, but in spite of her own wish to bring the two together, Elinor refused to further impose upon her host, to his great disappointment.

The Ferrars, upon receiving news of the joyous event, put aside their great incomprehension of their son and brother and began to make their travel plans. It was of great assistance in this effort that Sir John, long before a date was set, had already invited the entire family to stay at Park “ ... for as long as it suits you. There’s sure to be some game in season and many an outing and dancing in the evening for the ladies.” Lady Middleton, after the banns were set to be read, provided a more formal invitation. All Mrs. Ferrars and the Dashwoods need do was gather their entourage and invade Barton at their leisure.

The reading of the banns not only pushed Lady Middleton into action, but also brought news of his brother’s impending marriage to Roberts Ferrars and his new wife. It was Lucy who first heard of the approaching event, her newly hired maid  proving quite the useful gossip, and she greeted the information with a mixture of glee and angst. Though she had long known the truth of Edward and Elinor’s attachment, is culmination inevitably caused her some chagrin. On the other hand, the notion of Elinor struggling along and economizing on a parson’s salary she found rather humorous, especially when compared to her own good fortune. Yet not even the acquisition of a thousand pounds a year could satiate Lucy’s ambitions, and she was quick to see in the approaching marriage an opportunity for her husband to reassert himself into his mother’s good graces and lucrative pockets.

Lucy, much to her husband’s benefit and despite all her faults, was undeniably shrewd. She knew that the reestablishment of her husband would be a difficult process, and that it was much more likely to happen if she kept herself in the background at first. Thus is was that, upon sharing her newly acquired information with Robert and enjoying, with him, a hearty laugh at our young couple’s expense, she set about trying to convince him of the benefits to be derived from his attendance at the wedding. He was understandably reluctant to present himself, not only because it meant confronting a hostile family, but also because he was certain that Edward’s wedding could be nothing but a dead bore. Nevertheless, with her careful flattery and calculated cajolery, Lucy at last convinced him how efficacious his presence at the blessed event would be. Let credit go where it is due: she managed to accomplish this while leading Robert to believe it was his good notion in the first place. Talent indeed, though his inflated sense of self-import was of great assistance in the achievement of the feat.

What Robert was inclined to condemn as a poor show, people of taste and sense would recognize in the marriage of Elinor and Edward all that was most important. Pomp might have been lacking, the bride bedecked in a useful gown that would serve many a purpose other than that of mere wedding finery, but the love shared by our couple was apparent. Marianne joyfully accompanied her sister, while Colonel Brandon stood beside his new rector, and, more importantly, increasingly dear friend. All their friends and well-wishers were in attendance, from Sir John and Lady Middleton to an elated Mrs. Jennings. Their respective families also made a strong showing amongst the observers. John and Fanny were in attendance along with Mrs. Ferrars, and while this party never dared speak to Robert when he appeared, not one of the three could help reflecting what a fine figure he cut as opposed to the groom, dressed in the humble elegance that befit his clerical pretensions. Thus the breech made its first steps towards amendment.

Jane Austen for President 2012

I so meant to get this post up before the holiday season, as I thought it would be such a wonderful addition to any Janeites shopping list, but alas, I again must plead baby as an excuse for my tardiness. Nevertheless, for those of you who have not yet heard of Gone Reading International, I will take a few moments to bring this important organization to your attention. Founder and CEO Bradley S. Wirz contacted me way back in early November, asking if I would help to spread the word about this new organization's noble goal to help establish libraries in the developing world. Their online boutique (gonereading.com) is full of gifts targeted to book lovers, and 100% of the proceeds go towards fulfilling their mission. Of greatest interest to readers of this blog is the Jane Austen Collection, featuring the Jane Austen for President 2012 line of goods. If only! The slogan not only makes me want to rush out and buy an absolutely adorable onesie for my little one, it also begs the question: upon what platform would Jane Austen run for office? I can't see her pandering to special interest groups, which would undoubtedly land her on the fringe of the political spectrum, but perhaps her frankness would be welcomed by a jaded American populace. If she were to grace the oval office with her hallowed presence, one would like to believe it would be the dawn of an era noted for partisan reconciliation, industrious activity, and the revival of hats. On the other hand, perhaps she would just be dismissive of all the members of Congress, conferring upon them the title of "intolerably stupid", and be known for little else than her relentless support of the arts. Either way, hers would be a fascinating term.

Here is a copy of a letter from Mr. Wirz, detailing the organization's purpose. Please think of the joy books have played in your own life and consider sharing that indescribable pleasure with those in need.









Dear Fellow Book Lovers:

If you're like me, you just can't imagine living in a world without reading. Unfortunately, for almost a billion people today, that's exactly where they find themselves. There are countless villages, towns and vast regions of this planet where the power of reading has yet to shine its light.

Gone Reading International, LLC was founded to bring the magic effect of reading to places where it doesn't exist. We believe that when people have open access to great reading materials, life always changes for the better. When libraries and reading materials are made available, entire villages, communities and their citizens achieve unprecedented levels of self-sufficiency.

That's why Gone Reading International, founded in 2011, has pledged 100% of company profits to fund new reading libraries and other literacy projects in the developing world. By purchasing our gifts for readers, you're changing the world while treating yourself and the bibliophiles in your life to a great gift.

We're working with great non-profits – we call them our mission partners – such as READ Global and Ethiopia Reads, amazing organizations with proven models, long track records, and dedicated teams on the ground. Such groups partner with local villages in the most underdeveloped parts of the world to build small libraries that profoundly effect their communities. Our goal is to provide significant financial assistance to such organizations, allowing them to achieve greater scale and impact.

We invite you to join the GoneReading family by making a purchase of our gifts for readers, and equally important, sharing our story with the book lovers, bibliophiles and readers in your life!

Happy Reading!

Bradley S. Wirz
Founder & CEO
Gone Reading International, LLC