Austen in Walking Land

Burghley House - Rosings Park 2005

How wonderful to be included in the Austenesque Extravaganza, hosted by Austenesque Reviews! Thank you so much, Meredith, for both allowing me to participate and also for kindly scheduling me at the end of the month, giving me a few extra weeks to adapt to new motherhood. I have tried to switch back into my normal Austen/Austenesque obsessed state, but right not even dear Jane can garner my attention: life is all about baby. So as the month kicked off and I still had no notion what this post would be about, I had good reason to fear that my offering would be pitiful indeed. Instead, I found a delightful new method of incorporating Austen into my life! It is my pleasure to be able to invite you to join my wonderful daughter and I as we take our morning walk through the neighborhood - a seemingly magical place where all of Austen's characters reside in close proximity to each other, regardless of geographical boundaries. One just steps out my door and proceeds southwest to encounter the sprawling grounds of Rosings Park (Lady Catherine is so kind as to provide common land). We can pursue the very paths which Elizabeth explored while visiting in Kent. I believe I might even have identified the grove in which Mr. Darcy gives her his letter. It is not long before the house itself comes in sight. We walk along the park's handsome gate, the numerous chimneys, certainly connected to impressive chimney-pieces, casting shadows across our path. Several carriages. To the right of the house, Hunsford Parsonage comes into sight. We pass directly by Mr. Collins' book room, from where he can see all the comings and goings at the Park. As we turn the corner and stop to admire his gardening skills (such healthful exercise!), we can spot the window of Mrs. Collins' backward facing parlor.

Groombridge Place - Longbourn 2005

Remarkable to discover that on the very next corner the county of Devonshire is to be found! Nevertheless, there is Barton Cottage, right down to the casement windows which Sir John favors speaking through to waiting at the door. Though an orderly house, the grounds are highly picturesque, and I can see the Dashwood ladies making themselves perfectly comfortable in it. For some unknown reason, Mrs. Dashwood's improvements have included painting the facade blue, a poor choice I fear. The ladies are in good company, for as we proceed here is Longbourn on our left. Though the park is small, there is the "prettyish kind of a little wilderness" to one side. Maybe someday we will be allowed to explore it in search of the hermitage Mrs. Bennet recommends to Lady Catherine.

Sheldon Manor - Uppercross 2007

While the presence of Devonshire and Hertfordshire on the very same block might be disconcerting, it is highly orderly that Somersetshire adjourn the former. Conveniently, here on our right, we find the Great House at Uppercross, with its "high walls, great gates, and old trees," while almost directly across the way lies the Cottage, complete with veranda and French windows. Directly passed this modernized edifice we again skip counties (please ignore the presence of Tara on our left, as it is not relevant), landing squarely in Surrey. The younger Musgrove branch has amiable neighbors in the residents at Randalls, who in turn couldn't be more happily situated than precisely where they are, directly behind Hartfield. That house has also undergone improvement, for Mr. Woodhouse was so concerned about the ordeal his horses endured each time they journeyed forth to Randalls that he relocated the sweep drive onto his own grounds, thereby saving them all the trouble. Across the street lies Donwell Abbey, which I must say is my favorite of all the homes, "rambling and irregular" though it be, especially when compared with the orderliness Hartfield. The view is particularly breathtaking, as it overlooks sprawling park land.

Broughton Castle - Donwell Abbey 1995 (ITV)

Not unlike the Royal Crescent in Bath, in that they loop around adjacent park land, we have arrived at a strip of particularly fine houses, in which some of our most affluent characters reside. After Hartfield and Donwell we encounter Norland Park (Marianne will be pleased to know that despite the improvements enacted by her brother, there are still ample quantities of leaves to admire, all of which are sure to die in time). Next we pass Kellynch, so fashionably situated. Everything, by the way, looks ship shape under the Crofts' stewardship, as might be expected. Then comes Netherfield Hall, rounding out this impressive address. We are left to traverse a comparative social wasteland. Lovely houses abound, but none are of any import but Rosings, which we are again passing on our right (whether or not the presence of Rosings actually does anything to rectify the social void is an issue that will not here be addressed). Eventually, we find ourselves at Fullerton, fronted by a perfect hill for the children to roll down. Soon we turn right, but before we do let us look southeast, for one can just make out Northanger Abbey. It is worth investigating, but considerably out of our way. If you should ever venture in that direction, be sure to note the windows. Yes, they are indeed disappointingly modern in their functionality, but the form is unquestionably Gothic.

Kirby Hall - Mansfield Park 1999

We proceed along into the orderly village of Mansfield. Here is the Park on our left, nice and tidy. Almost immediately to its right you see the parsonage. Note the evergreens. Farther along, also on the left, we come upon Mrs. Norris' White House - just one spare room for a friend. Here is a surprise, for this is surely the Elton's parsonage on our right, instantly recognizable by the sharpness of the corner upon which it stands. Very gentlemanly, if a bit showy. Perhaps we have entered into a clerical neighborhood, for here a block up we find Woodston. Mr. Tilney must have his capable hands full, for in the smaller homes across the street one must surely find the Price's Portsmouth home, and there, above the shop on the corner, is the house where the Bates' reside.  I am sure Miss Bates and Mrs. Tilney are great friends.

If one were to head North from here and continue for quite a distance, one might happen upon Pemberley. Little Girl and I have not yet ventured so far, and sometimes I wonder if we ever shall or even should. We have driven by, of course, and ache to get a closer glimpse. The house is spectacularly magnificent, so much we can ascertain, and the knowledge that an exploration of its grounds could only surpass our expectations is a wonderful assurance to have, but I still hesitate to undertake the journey. Pemberley, perhaps, should not be so much a concrete location as a place of dreams. Besides, the Darcys can always visit Longbourn or Netherfield. Maybe we'll even cross their path one day.

Montacute House - Cleveland 1995

We turn right, and right again, in order to start the walk back towards home. As we proceed we pass Cleveland, identifiable due to the presence of the pagoda, which sits just across the street from Combe Magna (it seems Mrs. Palmer was more correct in her estimation regarding the distance between these two estates than was her husband). We are almost back at Rosings, but before we reach it we must stop and admire the house that stands directly behind it. A stone building, situated in the old style upon a sheltered grove, it is almost eclipsed by the flashiness of Rosings until one pauses to examine the place. The slopping lawns are unadorned but still beautiful, and while the house can boast only a reasonable number of chimneys and windows, the wealth of the proprietor can nevertheless be perceived in the tasteful elegance of the property. This is Tegginton, seat of the Stratton family and future home to one of the heroines in my next novel Second Glances: A Tale of Less Pride and Prejudice Continues. I will not reveal anymore on that subject now, except to remark that the hero's association with Lady Catherine should be not be held against him, and to confess that the baby and I spend a great deal of time in contemplation of this house, which we find very much to our liking. It is time to return home now and have our morning nap. Thank you for joining us on out walk! We do it everyday the weather allows and are always happy to enjoy the company of Janeites, so please consider this an open invitation to accompany us whenever your imagination allows. 

Don't forget that every time you comment on any post related to the Extravaganza, you have another opportunity to enter the Amazing Austenesque Giveaway! Do you ever dream that the homes in your neighborhood house characters from your favorite books? Do you think the Crofts would find Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood to be desirable neighbors? Or for that matter, how would Mr. Knightley deal with this couple on a daily basis? I think he might have a very decided opinion about Mr. Dashwoods intention to enclose the parkland, don't you?

Images:
Burghley House - http://www.hha.org.uk/Property/223/Burghley-House
Groombridge Place - http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/170963

Sheldon Manor - http://drmikesheldon.org/Gen/genresources04.html
Broughton Castle - http://www.telegraph.co.uk/expat/expatpicturegalleries/7472910/Jane-Austens-England.html?image=11
Kirby Hall - http://felicelog.blogspot.com/2010/07/mansfield-park-1999-photo-gallery.html
Montacute House - http://www.talktalk.co.uk/travel/features/silver_screen.html

Mr. Bennet Visits Netherfield Park

"Mr. Bennet, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," pronounced the young man with a warm smile, his complexion ruddy from a morning in the saddle. "Do sit down, please."

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Bingley. Thank you." Mr. Bennet chose a chintz chair that was as familiar as the man in front of him was strange, having known the set during the reign of Netherfield's former occupants, and settled himself to be amused at the newcomer's expense. If his years had taught him to trust anything implicitly, it was that the addition of a new and eligible young person to a society was sure to be excessively diverting. "I bid you welcome to the neighborhood and offer my assistance, if I can in anyway provide it, in helping you settle."

"Thank you, Mr. Bennet, that is quite kind of you, but matters are well in hand. The greatest service you might do me was already been performed when you paid me the honor of calling," he declared enthusiastically, exposing a boyish grin.

"So word of my daughters has proceeded me, has it?" Mr. Bingley crimsoned slightly, but seeing nothing but humor in his guest's face, nodded good-naturedly in agreement. "It would be astonishing to learn that it was my company so sought in this country, and not that of five pretty maids, but as we need never put the question to the test, I'm willing to concede that the honor I impart by merely calling suffices for hospitality."

Mr. Bingley laughed, "As you should, Mr. Bennet. Surely you acknowledge that a large family of ladies is always an asset to a neighborhood?"

"Oh come now, Mr. Bingley!" Mr. Bennet shrewdly replied. "I challenge you to ask the mothers of other unmarried women that question. My answer concurs with theirs."

"I suppose I need only apply to my sister, who is rather jealous of all female company," he laughingly conceeded. "Dear me! What utter nonsense have I been proposing? I certainly should have qualified my question as pertaining to the bachelor's perspective."

"My wife would have it that you move here precisely to accommodate the neighborhood by distinguishing one of its daughters with your hand. Beware, Mr. Bingley. You will certainly be the darling of every matchmaker in Hertfordshire. Though the prospect of a society teeming with young ladies might seem, on the surface, to your taste, I am not sure your lot is so very enviable."

"Yes, Mr. Darcy, a good friend, warned me that might be the case, and of all men he certainly should know. He will be joining me here when I collect my two sisters and brother from London. An excellent man, and a far more exciting prospect for scheming mamas than my insignificant self. I plan on enjoying what company the neighborhood has to offer, Mr. Bennet, both male and female, as I am of a sociable disposition, but my chief purpose in Hertfordshire is to establish the family on a country estate, as my father had planned to before his death. Therefore, you may rest assured that my conduct will always be that of the gentleman he raised."

"Your reassurance must be appreciated by a man in my position," replied an amused Mr. Bennet. "I find your affability most refreshing. You will certainly raise quite a stir in my household, never mind how grand your Mr. Darcy may be. Forgive me if I do not share the details of our meeting with their eager ears, but I shall hear of nothing else if I do."

"Not at all. I shall look forward to meeting the entire family, sir. Will you be attending the next assembly in Meryton? Sir William Lucas was so kind as to invite my party."

"Sir William is nothing but gracious, and yes, the ladies are sure to be in attendance, though I will seize the opportunity of enjoying a quiet evening alone with my books," he smiled as he rose.

"I think you and Mr. Darcy share many tastes in common. It will be a pleasure to introduce you once he arrives, as it was making your acquaintance this morning, Mr. Bennet."

"And yours, Mr. Bingley. Welcome to the neighborhood." They parted amicable, the enthusiasm of the young man and the cynicism of the elder having done little soil the appreciation of each for the other.

As Mr. Bennet rode home to Longbourn, he reflected with a wry smile on how his wife would respond were he to tell her that not one but two unmarried gentlemen were soon to be in their midst. Such good fortune was sure to completely over set a good many of the ladies in his household, and though the accompanying fervor would try his patience, he looked forward with no small degree of anticipation to the amusement such circumstances were sure to provide. After all, other than causing a great deal of commotion, the arrival of the gentlemen was highly unlikely to alter life at Longbourn, for what had such town swells to do with his brood? Lack of fortune, while leaving the future unpredictable, certainly had its compensations. How excellent to be able to sit back and observe the follies of humanity, secure in the knowledge that one is safe from their influence!


Images borrowed from kellynch.com

Sass & Serendipity by Jennifer Ziegler

Upon receiving an email from Jennifer Ziegler's publicist, asking if I would be interested in reviewing her new young adult novel inspired by Sense & Sensibility, I was happy to agree for three reasons: 1) with the new baby, young adult lit conforms to my attention span, 2) the book would count towards my completion of the Sense & Sensibility Bicentenary Challenge, and 3) I love free books. Sass & Serendipity fulfilled my expectations, providing me with a quick and easy read - the perfect source of light entertainment while breast pumping (about the only time I have the opportunity to read these days). Though the book bears little resemblance to Austen's novel, except in its focuses on two sisters of differing personalities, it kept me engaged and amused, a rather impressive feat when one considers that I could barely tolerate the main characters.

Gabby and Daphne live in the imaginary Texan town of Barton with their divorcee mom. Gabby, the older sister, copes with her extreme anger at her father and feelings of abandonment following her parent's divorce, emotions that have left her bitter and alienated from everyone in the town except her best friend, Mule. Daphne, on the other hand, is peppy and popular, having managed to maintain a rather naive sense of romantic idealism in spite of her broken home life. The story focuses on Gabby dropping the chip on her shoulder, while Daphne gains a more realistic perspective on love and romance.

Though Daphne's story does in ways resemble Marianne Dashwood's experience, Gabby, while cast as the "responsible" sister, is nothing at all like Elinor. Instead of inspiring admiration, I actually found myself hating her, as her negative energy taints everything around her. She continuously accuses Daphne of selfishness when she is equally so, revealing herself to be completely lacking in Elinor's self-perception and consideration. Daphne too, while more tolerable than Gabby, lacks the intelligence and conviction that makes Marianne so appealing in spite of her flaws. However, there is a chance this criticism is unfair. I usually avoid young adult novels, as they tend to be a bit emotionally transparent for my taste, and perhaps that is what really bothers me about these characters. Those who enjoy the genre might be more tolerant.

For me the bottom line is that if Sass & Serendipity inspires a young reader to pick up Austen's first novel, it is worth its weight in gold, but for those already familiar with her masterpieces of literature, this book doesn't particularly add to ones appreciation. Nevertheless, as I said at the beginning of this post, it was the perfect light read for me to pick up and put down again when able to grab those few moments available to me. I recommend it to any of you who find yourselves in similar circumstances and need something to just pick up now again. 

Austenesque Extravaganza at Austenesque Reviews

I'm so pleased to finally be able to tell you all about the spectacular event being planned by one of my very favorite bloggers, Meredith of Austenesque Reviews. Austenesque Extravaganza is a "month long celebration of Austenesque novels and writers ... each day of the week will have a different theme and event, like a weekly twitter party with several Austenesque authors." Meredith has lined up nearly 50 writers to participate in this unique event, including myself, and it is sure to be a fabulous blog tour. The party starts in August, so mark your calenders. You won't want to miss this one!

http://janeaustenreviews.blogspot.com/2011/07/coming-soonaustenesque-extravaganza.html

Mr. Darcy and the Secret of Becoming a Gentleman by Maria Hamilton

Before I commence this review, I must apologize in advance for not doing the book justice. You see, I read it over a month ago, in that long ago, pre-mommy time, but never got to writing the review. Though I can fully attest to the novel's ability to distract and sooth at a most apprehensive time, I'm afraid I forgot some of the finer details of the plot. I hope readers will, nevertheless, find the following valuable.

Mr. Darcy and the Secret of Becoming a Gentleman is a classic "What if?" reimagining of Pride and Prejudice. Maria Hamilton begins her story as Darcy and Fitzwilliam depart from Rosings, the former devastated by Elizabeth's scathing rejection of his hand. The plot veers when our hero decides to rectify some of the wrongs Elizabeth accused him of by returning to Netherfield in order to ascertain if Jane Bennet really does have deep feelings for Mr. Bingley. From this first humbling decision, Darcy pursues a course designed to improve his own temper and win Elizabeth's heart. The book follows the couple through courtship, providing a highly pleasant sojourn (despite one explicit scene, which I could have done without) within the world Jane Austen created.

One amusing consequence of Darcy's inquiries into Jane's heart is the inevitable misconstruction Mrs. Bennet places upon his actions, the consequences of which are obvious. Another fun twist arises from Ms. Hamilton's construction of a rival for Elizabeth's hand in the form of John Lucas. Darcy attends a summer assembly (an unusual occurrence) in Meryton, providing him with an explicit opportunity to reform his past behavior. I thought this scene between the two gentlemen, fueled by Mrs. Bennet's gossip, particularly interesting:

"What intrigues me is your offensive movement to this unguarded position. Clearly, something has drawn you out. You must be seeking something or someone already on the dance floor." Seeing Darcy color and the set of his jaw tighten, it was John Lucas's turn to retreat. "Please, do not worry. I have only said as much because that is why I am here as well." Looking significantly from Darcy to where Jane was dancing, he added, "I am no threat. While she is very beautiful, my tastes run elsewhere."

Darcy was in a quandary. He was relieved that his real purpose was not revealed, but upset that he may have unwittingly added fuel to any gossip about himself and Miss Bennet. If he denied that Miss Bennet was the reason for his coming over, it might open up speculation as to what it was he had been doing. John Lucas seemed to clever to let the matter drop so easily. Hoping to avoid further comment on the subject, Darcy turned the tables and asked, "And where do your tastes run?" 


"Ah, a direct question. A brilliant strategy. I see I was right in seeking you out. You also reject the confines of social rules.We must play chess someday. I will reward your boldness with a response." Looking significantly at Elizabeth, he said, "I find her sister most appealing."


Trying to hide his intense and conflicting emotions, Darcy asked, "You must be well acquainted then."


"Oh, yes, I have known her since she was a girl.But our dispositions are too similar. I often provoke her. I doubt she will accept my invitation to dance; I recently enraged her by disagreeing with her about a passage from a play we had both read. But I have reread the entire book and am armed with evidence that my position is superior. I will attempt to dazzle her with my wit and undoubtedly will leave defeated. But a man must always make an effort. Do you not agree?"

So much for books being inappropriate in a ballroom! The novel is full of both familiar (Miss Bingley's role is particularly gratifying) and new twists and turns that drag out our time with this most beloved couple, providing yet another new path to their ultimate happiness. I recommend this sweet retelling to all of you who can never get enough of Elizabeth and Darcy.

Mansfield Park Janeicillin: Part One

Many pens have been charged with dwelling on guilt and misery, so I shall not lament the fact that it falls to my lot to take up that well-honed task, my explicit purpose being to thwart impatience and explore precisely how everyone – those not greatly at fault and those who are thoroughly guilty – might be punished or restored to tolerable comfort, as befits their fate. Along the way I will have the fortunate gratification of exploring how the truly worthy might discover something a bit better than mere contentment, giving me the pleasure of consigning them, instead, to perfect happiness, but first I must confront those players who are fully deserving of all the misery I can dole out.

I begin with those unfortunate creatures who will never again enjoy the comfort and niceties of life at Mansfield Park. Some might consider such banishment from that house's hallowed halls ample punishment for any crime, no matter how extreme, but the world has its ways of making the sinful pay two fold for their misdeeds. Mrs. Rushworth, deprived of those honors conveyed upon her by marriage and having forsaken those that, as Miss Bertram, she had been born into to and so long taken for granted, was certainly responsible for her own downfall. While no one could rightly argue that she had not only brought this fate upon herself, but also magnified it by her refusal to abandon her lover, as her father most urgently begged her to, some pity, as difficult as it might be to excite, must be reserved for the greatest sufferer in this tale. Regardless of her misdeeds, when comparing her lot to that of her partner in iniquity, we must acknowledge that an unfair bulk of the consequences were to be endured by her alone. No matter how much credit we give to a man of sense, such as Mr. Crawford, to provide for himself no small portion of vexation and regret for having so lost the woman whom he had rationally as well as passionately loved, his exemption from the punishment of public disgrace, which should in a just measure attend his share of the offense, must go a long way in providing him with undeserved consolation. Indeed, as his cohabitation with Mrs. Rushworth proved increasingly unendurable, he made ready use of those resources of society that were available to him, yet not her, in order to escape the discomforts of his home. As he fled her presence with increasing frequency, and her obstinate and fruitless hopes that he would someday marry her began to evaporate, her wretchedness became unquestionable. She had lived with him to be reproached as the ruin of all his happiness in Fanny, and carried away no better consolation in leaving him than that she had divided them. What can exceed the misery of such a mind in such a situation?

As if rejection and exile were not sufficient sources of mortification, Maria Rushworth's woes were further compounded by that of uncongenial company. For who was to be her chaperone in disgrace but that most vile creation of our beloved authoress: the abhorrent Aunt Norris. Although admittedly an altered creature by the tragedies that had befallen the Bertram family – quiet, stupefied, and indifferent to everything that passed – she was not so very changed as to have learned to improve her temper and ways, rendering her departure from Mansfield, though not conducive to Maria's comfort, a great relief to those who remained at the house. No compassion will be invoked for this character, who never herself thought to feel a twinge of sympathy for those whose concerns were not her own. That desperately valued regard from Sir Thomas which had so long provided her with place and position was deservedly withdrawn, rendering the aging lady embittered and discontent. She was forced to fruitlessly pursue a similar place in the heart of her favorite niece, with whom no amount of flattery and favor had ever succeeded, at the best of times, in creating a reciprocal attachment. Shut up together with little society, on one side no affection, on the other no judgment, it may be reasonably supposed that their tempers became their mutual punishment. Let us now leave these gloomy considerations . We have more deserving destinies to contemplate.

If pity can be justly apportioned, let the lion's share be conveyed upon Sir Thomas. Poor Sir Thomas! So determined to be a good father, yet so mistaken in his methodology. And worse yet, rational enough to accept his share of fault when the consequences of his approach were made manifest. No one remaining at Mansfield evoked such sympathy, for Lady Bertram lacked the mental powers to agonize longer than her own discomfort remained, Tom Bertram only ached in body, not mind, and if Edmund endured heartache at the loss of Mary Crawford, it was to be of very short duration indeed. But for Sir Thomas, as a parent, and conscious of errors in his own conduct as a parent, it was rather inevitable that he be the longest to suffer. Nevertheless, his was not to be an inconsolable fate. Relief was found in Julia's match proving a less desperate business than he had considered it at first. She was humble, and wishing to be forgiven; and Mr. Yates, desirous of being really received into the family, was disposed to look up to him and be guided. There was comfort also in Tom, who gradually regained his health, without regaining the thoughtlessness and selfishness of his previous habits. He was the better for ever for his illness. And let us not underestimate the good to be derived from Mrs. Norris' departure. Her removal from Mansfield was the great supplementary comfort of Sir Thomas's life. To be relieved from her was so great a felicity that, had she not left bitter remembrances behind her, there might have been danger of his learning almost to approve the evil which produced such a good.

So cheer was not forever banished from Mansfield Park. Though the bulk of the residents were, for a time, as unhappy as they had ever been, solace was not unattainable, and for at least two members of the household, happiness was available in abundance. Shall we blame the two Price ladies for being merry amidst such despondency? Susan, whose lack of previous attachment to the family at Mansfield provides ample exoneration for her feelings, was elevated to a state of bliss she had never previously known. Her escape from the bad environment that was her Portsmouth home fully explains such spirits, and those who would accuse her of lack of familial duty I dismiss as either blind or unfeeling, particularly as those relatives who should have held such prominence in her heart certainly did not mourn for her lost presence. In regards to our heroine, of whom it has often been suggested by the critical that she is a creature too good to be attractive, let this moment counter that argument, for Fanny was, at this desolate time, very happy in spite of all that she felt, or thought she felt, for the distress of those around her. She had sources of delight that must force their way. She was returned to Mansfield Park, she was useful, she was beloved, she was safe from Mr. Crawford, and when Sir Thomas came back she had every proof that could be given in his then melancholy state of spirits, of his perfect approbation and increased regard. Furthermore, happy as all this must make her, she would still have been happy without any of it, for Edmund was no longer the dupe of Miss Crawford. Of course, she had the sensibility to not demonstrate her peace of mind, particularly to that gentleman whose concerns she most valued. To have openly rejoiced would have been to alienate Edmund, thereby depriving him, and us, of the joyful ending about to unfold.

Two Weeks of Parenthood ...

C.E. Brock's illustration for Emma - mollands.net

... and though I'm a bit sleep deprived, I am loving every moment (well, perhaps not the dirty diapers and aching mammaries). Recovery from the cesarean I ended up having is a bit more difficult than I bargained for, but I feel stronger everyday. I'm almost as amazed by my rapidly shrinking stomach (and it's cottage cheese-like texture) as I am by little Miss Eliza herself! Those of you who are parents know all too well how much there is to stand in awe of at this unprecedented period of life. She was born on her due date of 6/10 at 6:10 PM, coming it at 9 lbs 1 oz (hence the cesarean). Such a prompt and orderly little lady! Needless to say, we find her excessively diverting.

Even at this time, Austen cannot be far from my thoughts. I am reading (slowly) the newly released Annotated Sense and Sensibility by David M. Shapard, whose work I adore, and my thoughts inevitably drift to those Austen novels where babies play a role. Most prominently, I keep pondering that scene at the end of Emma in which the Woodhouses meet Frank Churchill upon visiting little Ana Weston. It suddenly strikes me in a manner it never has before, and I wonder if Austen set it up this way on purpose. As you will recall, Mr. Churchill gives a speech in which he praises Jane Fairfax's previously disparaged complexion to Emma, all while the "others had been talking of the child". He says: "Did you ever see such a skin?--such smoothness! such delicacy!--and yet without being actually fair.--One cannot call her fair. It is a most uncommon complexion, with her dark eye-lashes and hair--a most distinguishing complexion!" As I have spent the better part of my time staring at a newborn lately, I must marvel that anyone could make such a statement with a baby in the room, an immediate example of far better skin, with greater smoothness and delicacy than any lady, no matter how beautiful, can ever hope to possess. Is this is yet another intentional example of Mr. Churchill's extreme egocentricity, or could Austen's childless state have possibly rendered her oblivious to the irony of these lines? I certainly prefer the former explanation to the latter, especially as Austen was certainly no stranger to the charms an infant possesses. Her familiarity with the concerns and cares of the new parent are made abundantly clear later in this scene when Mrs. Weston relates her alarm over the baby's health and having considered calling in Perry for consultation:

She believed she had been foolish, but it had alarmed her, and she had been within half a minute of sending for Mr. Perry. Perhaps she ought to be ashamed, but Mr. Weston had been almost as uneasy as herself.--In ten minutes, however, the child had been perfectly well again. This was her history; and particularly interesting it was to Mr. Woodhouse, who commended her very much for thinking of sending for Perry, and only regretted that she had not done it. "She should always send for Perry, if the child appeared in the slightest degree disordered, were it only for a moment. She could not be too soon alarmed, nor send for Perry too often. It was a pity, perhaps, that he had not come last night; for, though the child seemed well now, very well considering, it would probably have been better if Perry had seen it."

Yes, this is a great opportunity to once again laugh at Mr. Woodhouse's hypochondria, as well as the paranoia of the new parent, just as Austen has poked fun at Isabella Knightley's motherly concerns throughout the novel, but only familiarity with the realities confronting new parents could have allowed Austen to leverage her wit so effectively on this subject. In fact, Austen was so well acquainted with the less pleasant realities of child rearing that she seemed to find great satisfaction in not having to take such cares upon herself. She certainly attributes such feelings, or rationalizations, to Emma, as in this explanation to Harriet Smith regarding her feelings on marriage: 

"And as for objects of interest, objects for the affections, which is in truth the great point of inferiority, the want of which is really the great evil to be avoided in not marrying, I shall be very well off, with all the children of a sister I love so much, to care about. There will be enough of them, in all probability, to supply every sort of sensation that declining life can need. There will be enough for every hope and every fear; and though my attachment to none can equal that of a parent, it suits my ideas of comfort better than what is warmer and blinder. My nephews and nieces!—I shall often have a niece with me."

Undeniably, such an arrangement would be more comfortable, but could Austen have experienced such warmer and blinder sensations she certainly would have adapted herself to them, just as Emma surely will upon her marriage to Mr. Knightley. Little of my experiences in these two weeks of parenthood can be described as comfortable, but never have I embraced discomfort so willingly, nor has it ever been more felicitous.

Such are my musings as we approach my daughter's  two week birthday. I'm sure there are many more to come. Poor little girl! To be so quickly subjected of my Austen obsessions.