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Pride encounters prejudice, upward-mobility confronts social disdain, and quick-wittedness challenges sagacity, as misconceptions and hasty judgments lead to heartache and scandal, but eventually to true understanding, self-knowledge, and love. In this supremely satisfying story, Jane Austen balances comedy with seriousness, and witty observation with profound insight. If Elizabeth Bennet returns again and again to her letter from Mr Darcy, readers of the novel are drawn even more irresistibly by its captivating wisdom.

The post The OWC Podcast: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen appeared first on OUPblog.

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How much do you know about the works of one of our best-loved classic authors? What really motivates the characters, and what is going on beneath the surface of the story? Using So You Think You Know Jane Austen? A Literary Quizbook by John Sutherland and Deirdre La Faye, we’ve selected twelve questions covering all six of Austen’s major novels for you to pit your wits against. Whether you are an expert or an enthusiast, we hope you’ll learn a little extra than you already knew.

For over 100 years Oxford World’s Classics has made available the broadest spectrum of literature from around the globe. Each affordable volume reflects Oxford’s commitment to scholarship, providing the most accurate text plus a wealth of other valuable features, including expert introductions by leading authorities, voluminous notes to clarify the text, up-to-date bibliographies for further study, and much more. You can follow Oxford World’s Classics on Twitter and Facebook.

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Image credit: Jane Austen. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

The post So you think you know Jane Austen? appeared first on OUPblog.

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It is a truth universally acknowledged that Jane Austen adaptations have been very nearly done to death. It is a testament to its classic status that Pride and Prejudice has made it gracefully through such a broad gamut of re-envisionings and reinterpretations, from a Bollywood setting to a zombie mash-up to a modern-day vlog.

Marcia Williams’s Lizzy Bennet’s Diary (Candlewick, April 2014) is another installment of this tradition. The diary not only tells the familiar story of Austen’s novel — more digestible for young readers in this simplified first-person format — but embroiders the story with rich details of life in Regency England, without appearing didactic. Lines from the novel are woven smoothly into the diary entries, and letters are included as nice pop-out elements, complete with faux seals and addresses. Though “Lizzy’s” drawings are stylistically far from period-appropriate, they are true to the tongue-in-cheek humor of Austen’s original text. However, the inclusion of scanned period documents (like a playbill from Lizzy’s trip to London) or pressed flowers pulled me out of the flow of the story rather than adding to the experience.

Though this may stem from my bias as a veteran reader of the novel (and a lit student to boot), I found the Lizzy of Williams’s Diary a shallower and less mature girl than the Elizabeth of “not yet one-and-twenty” whom I have come to know and love. The publisher pins the target audience age for this rendition as 8–12 years, but does that mean the heroine should be dumbed down?

That aside, the book will easily serve young readers as a good stepping stone into the wonderful, wide world of Austenania — and when they’re ready the original Pride and Prejudice will be waiting for them.

P.S. I highly recommend checking out the “Lizzie Bennet Diaries,” if you missed them while they were airing. I warn you that the serial installments (like the near-daily entries of Williams’s Diary) can get pretty addicting. (I watched 35 in one day!)

The post Lizzie Bennet’s Diary appeared first on The Horn Book.

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By Ingrid Tieken-Boon van Ostade

No, the image to the left is not a newly discovered picture of Jane Austen. The image was taken from my copy of The Complete Letter Writer, published in 1840, well after Jane Austen’s death in 1817. But letter writing manuals were popular throughout Jane Austen’s lifetime, and the text of my copy is very similar to that of much earlier editions of the book, published from the mid-1750s on. It is possible then that Jane Austen might have had access to one. Letter writing manuals contained “familiar letters on the most common occasions in life”, and showed examples of what a letter might look like to people who needed to learn the art of letter writing. The Complete Letter Writer also contains an English grammar, with rules of spelling, a list of punctuation marks and an account of the eight parts of speech. If Jane Austen had possessed a copy, she might have had access to this feature as well.

But I doubt if she did. Her father owned an extensive library, and Austen was an avid reader. But in genteel families such as hers letter writing skills were usually handed down within the family. “I have now attained the true art of letter-writing, which we are always told, is to express on paper what one would say to the same person by word of mouth,” Jane Austen wrote to her sister Cassandra on 3 January 1801, adding, “I have been talking to you almost as fast as I could the whole of this letter.” But I don’t think George Austen’s library contained any English grammars either. He did teach boys at home, to prepare them for further education, but he taught them Latin, not English.

So Jane Austen didn’t learn to write from a book; she learnt to write just by practicing, from a very early age on. Her Juvenilia, a fascinating collection of stories and tales she wrote from around the age of twelve onward, have survived, in her own hand, as evidence of how she developed into an author. Her letters, too, illustrate this. She is believed to have written some 3,000 letters, only about 160 of which have survived, most of them addressed to Cassandra. The first letter that has come down to us reads a little awkwardly: it has no opening formula, contains flat adverbs – “We were so terrible good as to take James in our carriage”, which she would later employ to characterize her so-called “vulgar” characters – and even has an unusual conclusion: “yours ever J.A.”. Could this have been her first letter?

Cassandra wasn’t the only one she corresponded with. There are letters to her brothers, to friends, to her nieces and nephews as well as to her publishers and some of her literary admirers, with whom she slowly developed a slightly more intimate relationship. There is even a letter to Charles Haden, the handsome apothecary who she is believed to have been in love with. Her unusual ending, “Good bye”, suggests a kind of flirting on paper. The language of the letters shows how she varied her style depending on who she was writing to. She would use the word fun, considered a “low” word at the time, only to the younger generation of Austens. Jane Austen loved linguistic jokes, as shown by the reverse letter to her niece Cassandra Esten: “Ym raed Yssac, I hsiw uoy a yppah wen raey”, and she recorded her little nephew George’s inability to pronounce his own name: “I flatter myself that itty Dordy will not forget me at least under a week”.

It’s easy to see how the letters are a linguistic goldmine. They show us how she loved to talk to relatives and friends and how much she missed her sister when they were apart. They show us how she, like most people in those days, depended on the post for news about friends and family, how a new day wasn’t complete without the arrival of a letter. At a linguistic level, the letters show us a careful speller, even if she had different spelling preferences from what was general practice at the time, and someone who was able to adapt her language, word use and grammar alike, to the addressee.

All her writing, letters as well as her fiction, was done at a writing desk, just like the one on the table on the image from the Complete Letter Writer, and just like my own. A present from her father on her nineteenth birthday, the desk, along with the letters written upon it, is on display as one of the “Treasures of the British Library”. The portable desk traveled with her wherever she went. “It was discovered that my writing and dressing boxes had been by accident put into a chaise which was just packing off as we came in,” she wrote on 24 October 1798. A near disaster, for “in my writing-box was all my worldly wealth, 7l”.

Ingrid Tieken-Boon van Ostade has a chair in English Sociohistorical Linguistics at the University of Leiden Centre for Linguistics (Leiden, The Netherlands). Her most recent books include In Search of Jane Austen: The Language of the Letters, The Bishop’s Grammar: Robert Lowth and the Rise of Prescriptivism, and An Introduction to Late Modern English. She is currently the director of the research project “Bridging the Unbridgeable: Linguists, Prescriptivists and the General Public”.

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Image credits: (1) Image of Jane Austen from The Complete Letter Writer, public domain via Ingrid Tieken-Boon van Ostade (2) Photo of writing desk, Ingrid Tieken-Boon van Ostade.

The post Jane Austen and the art of letter writing appeared first on OUPblog.

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By Kirsty Doole

Last week the Oxford World’s Classics team were at Blackwell’s Bookshop in Oxford to witness the first Oxford World’s Classics debate. Over three days we invited seven academics who had each edited and written introductions and notes for books in the series to give a short, free talk in the shop. This then culminated in an evening event in Blackwell’s famous Norrington Room where we held a balloon debated, chaired by writer and academic Alexandra Harris.

For those unfamiliar with balloon debates, this is the premise: the seven books, represented by their editors, are in a hot air balloon, and the balloon is going down fast. In a bid to climb back up, we’re going to have to throw some books out of the balloon… but which ones? Each editor spoke for five minutes in passionate defence of their titles before the audience voted. The bottom three books were then “thrown overboard”. The remaining four speakers had another three minutes each to further convince the audience, before the final vote was taken.

The seven books in our metaphorical balloon were:

Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell (represented by Dinah Birch)
Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë (represented by Helen Small)
Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson (represented by Roger Luckhurst)
A Memoir of Jane Austen by James Edward Austen-Leigh (represented by Kathryn Sutherland)
The Poetic Edda (represented by Carolyne Larrington)
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (represented by Fiona Stafford)
The Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle (represented by Lesley Brown)

So who was saved? Find out in our slideshow of pictures from the event below:



• The speakers

   

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  All seven speakers plus chair, Alexandra Harris, prepare for the debate.

• Alexandra Harris

   

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  Writer and academic Alexandra Harris chaired the event.

• A selection of OWCs

   

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  Just a few of the OWCs on sale during the event.

• Dinah Birch on Cranford

   

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  Professor Dinah Birch defends Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell.

• Helen Small on Wuthering Heights

   

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  Professor Helen Small makes a plea to the audience to save Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.

• Roger Luckhurst on Jekyll and Hyde

   

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  Professor Roger Luckhurst makes the case for saving the Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

• Kathryn Sutherland on A Memoir of Jane Austen

   

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  Professor Kathryn Sutherland argues in favour of saving A Memoir of Jane Austen by her nephew, J. E. Austen-Leigh.

• Austen with meat cleaver

   

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  Kathryn Sutherland tries to boost her cause by bringing this mascot: Jane Austen holding a meat cleaver.

• OWCs on the shelves

   

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  Look at all our beautiful books!

• Carolyne Larrington on The Poetic Edda

   

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  Doing her bit for Old Norse, Dr Carolyne Larrington represents The Poetic Edda.

• Fiona Stafford on Pride and Prejudice

   

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  Would Professor Fiona Stafford succeed in saving Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice?

• Lesley Brown on The Nicomachean Ethics

   

  http://blog.oup.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Brown-slide.jpg

  In the face of stiff literary competition, Lesley Brown strikes a blow for philosophy with a passionate defence of Aristotle's The Nicomachean Ethics.

• Joint winner! The Poetic Edda

   

  http://blog.oup.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Edda-slide.jpg

  At the end of the debate we actually had a tie. Joint winners were The Poetic Edda and...

• Joint winner! The Nicomachean Ethics

   

  http://blog.oup.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Aristotle-slide.jpg

  ...The Nicomachean Ethics! Well done Carolyne and Lesley!

Kirsty Doole is Publicity Manager for Oxford World’s Classics.

For over 100 years Oxford World’s Classics has made available the broadest spectrum of literature from around the globe. Each affordable volume reflects Oxford’s commitment to scholarship, providing the most accurate text plus a wealth of other valuable features, including expert introductions by leading authorities, voluminous notes to clarify the text, up-to-date bibliographies for further study, and much more. You can follow Oxford World’s Classics on Twitter, Facebook, or here on the OUPblog. Subscribe to only Oxford World’s Classics articles on the OUPblog via email or RSS.

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Image credits: All photos by Kirsty Doole

The post The great Oxford World’s Classics debate appeared first on OUPblog.

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After an evening of self-loathing and contrition, Emma resolves to call on Miss Bates first thing in the morning to try to set things right.

Emma calls on Miss Bates

I won't go into all the details, just the things of interest:

1) There's a scramble when she first arrives, and it's clear that Jane Fairfax does not want to see Emma Woodhouse. Emma is also left to worry for a few moments that Miss Bates is going to avoid her as well, but Miss Bates does no such thing.

2) We get a lot of information from Miss Bates. In fact, she provides a bit of an info dump, which is allowable because it's completely in character for her. Also, as a commenter pointed out in a comment to a previous post over at LiveJournal, Miss Bates's prattle provides quite a lot of information about Frank Churchill's story line.

We learn:

  a) The Eltons had a dinner party the night before, to which Emma was not invited. Miss Bates attended with her mother and her niece; Mr. Knightley did not attend, though he was invited.
  b) Frank Churchill left town suddenly the night before, something they learned while at the Eltons.
  c) After learning that Frank had left town, Jane Fairfax suddenly decided to accept the governess position that Mrs Elton kept shoving down her throat offering her.
  d) Jane has been sick and miserable since making that decision, but insists on proceeding.

Because Emma makes an effort to actually attend to Miss Bates and what she is saying, and because she is truly happy to be admitted to see Miss Bates after behaving so badly the day before, Emma is behaving as she actually ought to have been doing all along. And she finds it much easier to feel terrible for poor Jane Fairfax, who has made the decision to (nearly) go into service as a governess, and to find actual compassion for Jane, who she believes deserves something better.

This is an uneventful chapter as far as things go, which allows the reader to recover from the hubbub and horror of the Box Hill outing, but with so many events relayed, it's obvious that Jane Austen continues to stir the pot, and that things are going to kick up again soon.

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This is the last of our catch-up posts - our next Emma post will break new ground here at Writing & Ruminating, in that it's not something I've blogged about before: the Box Hill picnic. Back in 2011, when I got up to this point in the book, I just didn't have the psychic energy to compose a post about it. For one thing, it is possibly the most mortifying chapter in all of Austen's works, when one considers exactly how badly our heroine behaves. And when one considers that Catherine Morland is busted snooping around Mrs Tilney's chambers, then pretty much admits she thought Mrs Tilney might have been murdered, that is saying something indeed.

I wish I could promise you that our proceeding on was a guarantee of something good, but we shall all have to see what it brings once I write it. Deal?

Meanwhile, back in Emma, it's time to plan a different kind of party. You see, it takes Mrs Elton's plans for Emma to realize that she's never seen Box Hill - so she and Mr Weston decide they'll have an outing. Just a small one, with a very small, select group. Only then Mr Weston goes and invites Mrs Elton along.

This can only end in tears.

This chapter, though, is about a trip to Donwell Abbey to pick strawberries, the joint trip to Box Hill having been put off due to an issue with a carriage horse. Mrs Elton tries hard to assume command and control of the party at Mr Knightley's house, but he refuses - to the point of risking offense to her, actually, although in the end she opts not to take it, even though she has actually been put off rather effectively:

"No,"--he calmly replied,--"there is but one married woman in the world whom I can ever allow to invite what guests she pleases to Donwell, and that one is--"

"--Mrs Weston, I suppose," interrupted Mrs Elton, rather mortified.

"No--Mrs Knightley;--and till she is in being, I will manage such matters myself."

Mrs Elton's babbling about a gypsy party with big bonnets and baskets and riding on donkeys sounds a bit overblown and ridiculous to us now, and it probably did to a fair number of Regency readers as well . . . still, to some of them - notably members of the ton and the aristocracy - it sounded like one of their usual outings. It was quite popular for members of the ton to stage just the pretentious sort of outing that Mrs Elton is proposing - with themed "costumes", tables of food set up outside (all of which - tables and chairs and linens and food - had to be carted by servants), and even the riding of donkeys. Mrs Elton, who appears ridiculous to Emma and Mr Knightley (and to Jane Austen), is actually proposing quite a fashionable sort of outing (of the kind recreated in many modern-day Regency romances, in fact), rather than the more staid and sensible one that Mr Knightley envisions. Austen is taking a bit of a swing at those who make far more work for their servants than necessary in order to amuse themselves in what she considered a frivolous manner, and, indeed, it's hard to read this chapter and the one that follows and come away with a positive view of Mrs Elton's proposed scheme. Still, I suppose there were those readers in Regency times who missed the irony and nodded along to the sound notion Mrs Elton was putting forth.



Mr Knightley's characteristics

They aren't quite enumerated in this chapter, but it's close. Let's look at them, shall we? Especially since he was one of Austen's two favorites of her own heroes (the other being Edmund Bertram - look, I don't know why, okay? Maybe because he demonstrates how a good guy with flaws can come out right in the end? But I am both digressing and getting ahead, since we haven't discussed Mansfield Park yet.) The following list is certainly not all of Mr Knightley's traits, but it's a good list to be going on with:

1. Kind - check out his guest list, which includes Harriet Smith and Miss Bates
2. Thoughtful - he makes careful preparations for Mr Woodhouse, and also makes sure his servants won't be overly put out
3. Conscientious - he checks up on all of his guests
4. Patient - he didn't flip his wig over Mrs Elton's numerous attempts to bully him
5. Decisive - he makes his plan and executes it
6. Gracious - even when he gets stuck with Frank Churchill as a guest thanks to Mr Weston
7. Polite - it goes beyond him doing what he's expected to do, since he also does what he wants to do, which is to invite whom he pleases and organize things how he wants - yet he manages not to actually give offense

Jane Fairfax

Jane Fairfax is at her rope's end when it comes to dealing with Mrs Elton, who has gone ahead and found a governess position for Jane, even though Jane asked her not to. Jane is so intent on getting away from Mrs Elton for a bit that she first convinces Mr Knightley to give everyone a tour of his gardens, and eventually she sneaks out to walk home - alone. A bold move indeed for a single young woman, especially one who is known to have a somewhat delicate constitution.

Jane explains to Emma that she is fatigued - not by the heat or by walking, but by having no time alone. Emma infers that Jane is referring to her aunt, Miss Bates, but I wish to point out that Jane could equally well be referring to Mrs Elton in this instance. And while Emma knows that Jane has this whole governess notion weighing on her mind, Jane never says that's what her issue is. She could be thinking about some other issue entirely. I'm just . . . putting that out there. Those of you who are re-reading this book will understand immediately.

England v. France (and characters as proxy)

England was at war with France for most of Austen's life. Austen, being a patriotic Tory, championed all things English, but she also had personal reasons for disliking the French: for one, she had two brothers in the Royal Navy whose lives were at risk because of conflicts with the French and, for another, her cousin Eliza's first husband lost his head to Madame Guillotine during the Revolution.

In this chapter, the rather allegorically named Mr Knightley lives at the equally allegorically named Donwell Abbey (where everything is "done well" - Dear Miss Austen, I see what you did there), and we get this description from an enraptured Emma: "It was a sweet view--sweet to the eye and the mind. English verdure, English culture, English comfort, seen under a sun bright, without being oppressive." Austen treads perilously close to outright stating that Mr Knightley and his home are all that is right about England and its gentry.

In contrast, we have Frank Churchill - a man whose first name is a reference to France (as you may recall from Chapter Two) and who is operating under the cloak of an assumed last name - his birth name being Weston, not Churchill - whom Mr Knightley, that most English of Englishmen, assessed with a reference to a French word in Chapter 18 (amiable v. amabile). And when Frank eventually shows up in this chapter, he is not only cross with his present situation, but with all of England: he cannot wait to get out of England and go abroad, perhaps to Switzerland. While travel abroad was not uncommon among the wealthy, there is something decidedly off-putting about Frank's eagerness to dismiss the country of his birth and hurry off to other climes, especially if one is Austen. Also, Austen is making fun of her own second-oldest brother, Edward, who was "adopted" by cousins (the Knights) and spent his own tour of the Continent in Switzerland, among other places.

Mr Knightley and Harriet are getting along

Emma is so pleased. I'm sure you remember Mr Knightley's disapproval of Emma's plan to take Harriet under her wing and give her a bit of polish. Now he's quite pleased with her first-rate qualities (as he mentioned to Emma at the Crown) and taking her aside to show of his huge tracts of land and discuss his farming techniques with her. (Any dirtiness in that prior statement entirely intentional, I assure you.) And Harriet seems so over Robert Martin that she doesn't seem to pay much attention to the view of his house and land at all. Happy, happy Emma.

Somewhere, Austen is still cackling over this chapter.

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Mr Knightley has a suspicious mind. True, he's never liked Frank Churchill before, but now it's worsening. You see, he's noticed that Frank is not behaving as he ought if he's actually chasing after Emma, which absolutely everyone thinks is the case, based on Frank's attentions and hints from the Westons. Mr Knightley, though, thinks there's something going on between Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax - something serious, even, as he believes they have a "private understanding" (which is to say, a secret engagement. There's more discussion of secret engagements in our discussion of Chapter 22 of Sense & Sensibility).

We are told up front that Mr Knightley's dislike of Frank is "for some reason best known to himself", and Austen does not (yet) tell us what it is, but that it is somehow related to Emma is quite clear from the remainder of Mr Knightley's thoughts and comments in this chapter.

By happenstance, Mr Knightley (walking with Emma and Harriet) bumps into the Westons (walking with Frank Churchill) and Miss Bates (walking with her niece) - the latter two parties having met up already by chance( - or is it? But I digress). Frank Churchill asks a question about Mr Perry, the local apothecary, getting a carriage, claiming that Mrs Weston mentioned it in one of her letters. When Mrs Weston denies any such knowledge or occurrence, Frank laughs and calls it a dream . . . except that Miss Bates knows it to be true, as does Jane Fairfax, who now has her head down, fussing with her shawl, while trying to avoid catching Frank's eye.

Once again, games pop up in Emma

Once inside Hartfield for tea, Frank Churchill seizes on a box of "alphabets" - hand-written scraps with letters on them used to form words - rather like doing a word scramble while using Scrabble tiles (indeed, it's a fine use of Scrabble tiles - you pull out the letters for the word, then set the lot of them in front of someone else, who is to solve the puzzle). Frank's first word goes to Jane Fairfax, and is revealed to be "blunder". Mr Knightley is then certain that Frank is playing, in Austen's term, "a deeper game."

Jane is embarrassed when Frank creates the word "Dixon", showing it first to Emma and then to Jane, and she sweeps aside without reading another offering from Frank - but she does not refuse his assistance in helping her to find her shawl.

Misunderstanding between Emma and Mr Knightley

Mr Knightley asks about the word Frank showed to her, and she is so embarrassed that she doesn't want to talk about it - it's a reminder of her suspicions regarding Jane Fairfax having a fling with Mr Dixon, and she doesn't want Mr Knightley to know she thinks it possible. Mr Knightley, however, believes that she is flustered because her affections are attached to Frank Churchill.

Yet he would speak. He owed it to her, to risk any thing that might be involved in an unwelcome interference, rather than her welfare; to encounter any thing, rather than the remembrance of neglect in such a cause.

"My dear Emma," said he at last, with earnest kindness, "do you think you perfectly understand the degree of acquaintance between the gentleman and lady we have been speaking of?"

"Between Mr Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax? Oh! yes, perfectly.--Why do you make a doubt of it?"

"Have you never at any time had reason to think that he admired her, or that she admired him?"

"Never, never!" she cried with a most open eagerness--"Never, for the twentieth part of a moment, did such an idea occur to me. And how could it possibly come into your head?"

"I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment between them--certain expressive looks, which I did not believe meant to be public."

"Oh! you amuse me excessively. I am delighted to find that you can vouchsafe to let your imagination wander--but it will not do--very sorry to check you in your first essay--but indeed it will not do. There is no admiration between them, I do assure you; and the appearances which have caught you, have arisen from some peculiar circumstances--feelings rather of a totally different nature--it is impossible exactly to explain:--there is a good deal of nonsense in it--but the part which is capable of being communicated, which is sense, is, that they are as far from any attachment or admiration for one another, as any two beings in the world can be. That is, I presume it to be so on her side, and I can answer for its being so on his. I will answer for the gentleman's indifference."

She spoke with a confidence which staggered, with a satisfaction which silenced, Mr Knightley.

Poor Mr Knightley. Poor, hamstrung Mr Knightley, who believes that Emma and Frank are a couple. He will be laboring under this belief for many more chapters now, mistaken though we readers know it to be. And yet, the plot thickens very much upon us indeed.

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Oh, Harriet!

A few days after Frank Churchill saved Harriet from the gypsies, Harriet shows up at Hartfield with a small parcel that she wishes to dispose of. She has taken bits of detritus from Mr Elton and squirreled them away as treasures: a piece of court-plaister (trust me, the link is fabulous) and the worthless butt end of a pencil.

She is SO over Mr Elton. And his little wife, too. Of course, being Harriet, she is on to the next one . . . but I get ahead of myself a bit.

In the middle of the chapter, which falls during Harriet's recitation of the fascinating origin of the useless pencil stub she's about to burn, we find Emma focusing on Mr Knightley - what he said, where he stood, etc. Harriet, who was at the time focused on Mr Elton exclusively, cannot say for certain where Mr Knightley stood, but Emma sure knows. (Yet I still don't get the sense that she realizes the emotional significance of her own memories.)

And then, at the end of the chapter, we find Harriet is in love. Again. She doesn't say with whom, and Emma doesn't ask - presuming that it is Frank Churchill, who gallantly rescued Harriet, after all. And when Emma makes reference to Harriet's rescue, Harriet indicates that the man she admires saved her from perfect misery, transporting her to perfect happiness.

On the one hand, I commend Emma for remaining circumspect and not pressing for details and confidences. On the other hand, we all know that Emma the imaginist sometimes jumps to incorrect conclusions.

I hate to be gloomy, but this can only end in tears.

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The chapter opens with Emma thinking about Mr Knightley, and how hot what a fine dancer he is, and how wonderful it is that they both agree that the Eltons are prats. She is pleased by the thought that Harriet is over Mr Elton and that Frank Churchill no longer seems hung up on Emma. She is also pleased that she won't have to see Frank today, but can spend all her time with her nephews, when what to her wondering eyes should appear but Frank Churchill, carting Harriet up the front path.

Long story short, Harriet and one of her friends were approached by gypsy children looking for a handout, the friend did a runner and Harriet . . . didn't. I confess that the Keystone Kops-like description of Harriet, trying to scramble up the bank but failing, cracks me up every single time I read it. But I digress.

What with Harriet being easy pickings, the gypsies went for the full-court press, begging for additional money past the shilling she handed over, and Frank arrived and chased them off. The story can be told with additional flourishes, as I'm certain Emma did for her nephews and absolutely everyone else in Highbury did as among themselves, but to cut to the chase, the chapter ends (more or less) with Emma (mentally) chanting "Frank and Harriet, sitting in a tree . . . "

I cannot let this chapter pass, however, without commenting on this particular line: "How much more must an imaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation and foresight!--especially with such a groundwork of anticipation as her mind had already made."

To be an imaginist is quite a thing, don't you think? It's how Austen describes Emma here, which comports well with what we know of her. But the term applies equally well to authors in general, and to Austen in particular. Just as Emma seeks to create characters (by building Harriet Smith up, say) or to write stories (through match-making), so Austen creates characters and writes stories. No wonder Austen liked Emma so much - and worried that nobody else would do so.

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This chapter is really something - it's about the ball at the Crown. I shan't summarize the whole thing for you, but will instead pick out a few bits and pieces I feel like talking about, and then provide you with yummy video footage.

A number of privy councillors

Emma is flattered and delighted (at first) to be asked by Mr Weston to come early - but somewhat less so when it turns out that half the company has been asked to come early, and that Mr Weston isn't especially discriminating in bestowing his favor. It leads to an interesting bit of analysis, followed by a lovely bit of foreshadowing:

Emma perceived that her taste was not the only taste on which Mr Weston depended, and felt, that to be the favourite and intimate of a man who had so many intimates and confidantes, was not the very first distinction in the scale of vanity. She liked his open manners, but a little less of open-heartedness would have made him a higher character.--General benevolence, but not general friendship, made a man what he ought to be.--She could fancy such a man.

Frank is eager for the Eltons' carriage to arrive

Because he cannot wait to see Mrs Elton, he says. And then the Eltons, who were to have picked up Jane Fairfax and Miss Bates, arrive without having done so, and have to send off for them. Worried about the threat of rain, Frank rushes out with an umbrella to look after Miss Bates.

Mrs Elton is eager to discuss her carriage

Its acquisition was delayed, based on earlier remarks by her about the carriage. And truly, the care and keeping of a carriage was an expensive proposition, as I remarked upon in this post, which talks about Lady Catherine's carriages, when we read Pride & Prejudice. Mrs Elton now cannot stop herself from talking about their carriage, which is a true trapping of luxury.

Miss Bates is the comic relief

But there are facts and clues strewn throughout her babble, both times it occurs. Just so you know.


Mrs Elton is also eager to discuss what she's wearing

She corners Jane Fairfax immediately to discuss her own attire and to add to the comic relief in her way - pray, do not sing, because she probably thinks that song is about her. And while claiming not to pay attention to what people wear, she essentially makes a cutting remark about the other ladies in attendance:

"Nobody can think less of dress in general than I do--but upon such an occasion as this, when every body's eyes are so much upon me, and in compliment to the Westons--who I have no doubt are giving this ball chiefly to do me honour--I would not wish to be inferior to others. And I see very few pearls in the room except mine."

I wonder if she considers herself to be the pearls before the swine?

Emma notices Mr Knightley

And for once, she notices him in the way that a woman notices a man, and not as a mere friend or pseudo-family member, and she remains quite aware of him at all times - while she is dancing with Frank Churchill, no less:

She was more disturbed by Mr Knightley's not dancing than by any thing else.--There he was, among the standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be dancing,--not classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whist-players, who were pretending to feel an interest in the dance till their rubbers were made up,--so young as he looked!--He could not have appeared to greater advantage perhaps anywhere, than where he had placed himself. His tall, firm, upright figure, among the bulky forms and stooping shoulders of the elderly men, was such as Emma felt must draw every body's eyes; and, excepting her own partner, there was not one among the whole row of young men who could be compared with him.--He moved a few steps nearer, and those few steps were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike a manner, with what natural grace, he must have danced, would he but take the trouble.--Whenever she caught his eye, she forced him to smile; but in general he was looking grave. She wished he could love a ballroom better, and could like Frank Churchill better.--He seemed often observing her.

Mr Elton deliberately cuts Harriet

He ensures that his availability will be noticed during a dance for which Harriet has no partner, then evinces an interest in dancing with other women, then flat-out refuses to dance with Harriet based on his marital status. And then he and his horrible wife giggle about it as he makes his way over to converse with Mr Knightley, who, having seen what has transpired, walks away from Mr Elton and asks Harriet to dance, thereby impliedly cutting Mr Elton and instructing him on proper manners. In a public ballroom. *swoon*

Emma and Mr Knightley chat

I love this bit, and therefore share it with you in its entirety. It's notable for several points, including Mr Knightley's remarks about Harriet Smith and his willingness to dance with Emma.(And then the yummy video clips, in which we see sexy English country dancing!)

"I do own myself to have been completely mistaken in Mr Elton. There is a littleness about him which you discovered, and which I did not: and I was fully convinced of his being in love with Harriet. It was through a series of strange blunders!"

"And, in return for your acknowledging so much, I will do you the justice to say, that you would have chosen for him better than he has chosen for himself.--Harriet Smith has some first-rate qualities, which Mrs. Elton is totally without. An unpretending, single-minded, artless girl--infinitely to be preferred by any man of sense and taste to such a woman as Mrs Elton. I found Harriet more conversable than I expected."

Emma was extremely gratified.--They were interrupted by the bustle of Mr Weston calling on every body to begin dancing again.

"Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all doing?--Come Emma, set your companions the example. Every body is lazy! Every body is asleep!"

"I am ready," said Emma, "whenever I am wanted."

"Whom are you going to dance with?" asked Mr Knightley.

She hesitated a moment, and then replied, "With you, if you will ask me."

"Will you?" said he, offering his hand.

"Indeed I will. You have shewn that you can dance, and you know we are not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper."

"Brother and sister! no, indeed."

The song that Gwyneth's Emma and Jeremy's Mr Knightley are dancing to is called Mr Beveridge's Maggot. It has nothing to do with the life-cycle of a fly, but refers to a type of tune popular in the 1700s that is embellished by the players on each repetition. It is the same song to which Darcy & Elizabeth dance at Netherfield in the 1995 BBC version of Pride & Prejudice, by the way.



The tune to which Romola's Emma and Jonny Lee's Mr Knightley are dancing here is an original composition for the score of the movie by Samuel Sim and is (I believe) called "The Last Dance" - the soundtrack is a delight to listen to, but is not put together in chronological order, so it's not always easy to tell what is what.

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When we left off reading Emma in 2011, it was just after Volume III, Chapter 6. So I figured I would cheat repeat the Volume III entries starting with Chapter 1 over the next few days and then keep rolling forward. Savvy?

Back to the book:

Remember how Emma thought she might be in love with Frank? Well, she realizes after hearing that he's coming back that she wasn't - nor does she want to be. She believes, however, that he is in love with her. And in a moment of clear foreshadowing (one of those things that some critics say Austen never does - I'm pretty sure it means they don't actually read her books?), we get this:

She wished she might be able to keep him from an absolute declaration. That would be so very painful a conclusion of their present acquaintance! and yet, she could not help rather anticipating something decisive. She felt as if the spring would not pass without bringing a crisis, an event, a something to alter her present composed and tranquil state.

Initially, I was going to post only the final sentence, but those of you who are re-reading will be quick to see how all of it foreshadows things that will come to pass ere we reach The End.

When Frank arrives in Highbury again, it is only for a few hours. He quickly calls at Hartfield to visit Emma, but he is distracted and eager to be gone to pay a call on some acquaintances in Highbury before returning to London, where he is tied up for the better part of ten days by his aunt, who is ill. Frank tells the Westons that he believes she's actually ill and not malingering - moreover, London is too noisy for her nerves, so the Churchills are to remove to Richmond, which is only nine miles from Highbury, for the months of May and June.

Given the circumstances, we are to have that ball at the Crown after all. You can feel that shoe being lifted somehow, can't you? - even if you cannot tell exactly how or when it will fall.

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I totally forgot to mention here that yesterday was the bicentennial of the first publication of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.

In a letter to her sister, Cassandra, Austen wrote, "I want to tell you I have got my own darling child from London." You can see the letter yesterday's article in The Independent.

Have you read Pride and Prejudice? Or do you have a favorite movie version? Favorite line?

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Oh, Emma!

Emma's self-absorption here at the start of the chapter is sickening, yes? She deliberately sets out to restrict Harriet from reattaching herself to the Martin family - even to the mother and sisters - and while we are given to understand that the Martins feel snubbed by the shortness of the visit and Harriet feels sad that it was cut off, the narrator focuses on Emma's feelings: how Emma feels badly for what she's doing here, behaving as a sort of puppet-master toward Harriet, who continues to dance to Emma's tune.

Enter Frank Churchill, Stage Left Even

It's wonderful to see how news about Frank Churchill's imminent arrival travels. Emma calls at Randalls to find the Westons are from home, only to meet them in the lane - they're returning from Hartfield, where they've told Mr Woodhouse their news: Frank is coming for a two-week stay. Mr Weston, ever the optimist, is thrilled, since a fortnight is much longer than the two or three days they might have gotten from Frank at Christmas. Even Mrs Weston seems convinced that Frank will actually arrive tomorrow.

Only as it turns out, Frank arrived that very day - something Emma learnt by stepping into the parlour at Hartfield the next day around noon, only to find Mr Weston and Frank Churchill were already there, calling on her father. It's obvious to everyone that Frank Churchill was extremely anxious to get to Highbury after all.

The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest, was actually before her--he was presented to her, and she did not think too much had been said in his praise; he was a very good looking young man; height, air, address, all were unexceptionable, and his countenance had a great deal of the spirit and liveliness of his father's; he looked quick and sensible. She felt immediately that she should like him; and there was a well-bred ease of manner, and a readiness to talk, which convinced her that he came intending to be acquainted with her, and that acquainted they soon must be.

Frank immediately ingratiates himself with Emma by praising Mrs Weston in eloquent terms and in expressing happiness over his father's marriage. And while he acknowledges that he knows Mrs Weston used to be Emma's governess, Miss Taylor, he never speaks of her as if she were anything less than a wonderful gentlewoman. I put this here now because I intend to contrast it later with Mrs Elton's words on the same topic:

He got as near as he could to thanking her for Miss Taylor's merits, without seeming quite to forget that in the common course of things it was to be rather supposed that Miss Taylor had formed Miss Woodhouse's character, than Miss Woodhouse Miss Taylor's. And at last, as if resolved to qualify his opinion completely for travelling round to its object, he wound it all up with astonishment at the youth and beauty of her person.

"Elegant, agreeable manners, I was prepared for," said he; "but I confess that, considering every thing, I had not expected more than a very tolerably well-looking woman of a certain age; I did not know that I was to find a pretty young woman in Mrs Weston."

"You cannot see too much perfection in Mrs Weston for my feelings," said Emma; "were you to guess her to be eighteen, I should listen with pleasure; but she would be ready to quarrel with you for using such words. Don't let her imagine that you have spoken of her as a pretty young woman."

"I hope I should know better," he replied; "no, depend upon it, (with a gallant bow,) that in addressing Mrs Weston I should understand whom I might praise without any danger of being thought extravagant in my terms."

Frank's closing line indicates that Mrs Weston is only too happy to hear praise of Emma, and reminds her of her suspicion that the Westons would like to see a match between her and Frank. (And, of course, that is precisely

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Mr Elton's wedding plans

Mr Elton returns to visit everyone and be smug about his conquest - a woman with 10,000 pounds to her name, who is more than happy to marry him and move to Highbury. He pays no attention to Emma and is obnoxious to Harriet, and then leaves to get married.

Emma begins to question what she ever found pleasing about him, and on learning more about his intended spouse - a Miss Augusta Hawkins - she believes that Harriet is inferior to Miss Hawkins only in lacking money. (We shall soon have a chance to see whether Emma proves right on that count.) Turns out Miss Hawkins's father was in trade as a merchant, her uncle is an attorney, and her sister is married to a guy who owns two carriages, and that's pretty much it for her backstory. (I can't help but notice that her background is not too different from some Austen characters we already know - the Bennet sisters had an uncle in trade and another that was an attorney, after all; but they were the daughters of a gentleman, and Miss Hawkins is not.)

Poor Harriet!

Could she but have given Harriet her feelings about it all! She had talked her into love; but, alas! she was not so easily to be talked out of it. The charm of an object to occupy the many vacancies of Harriet's mind was not to be talked away. He might be superseded by another; he certainly would indeed; nothing could be clearer; even a Robert Martin would have been sufficient; but nothing else, she feared, would cure her. Harriet was one of those, who, having once begun, would be always in love.

LOL! The narrator's points here are hilarious, telling us much about Harriet - and, in fact, largely nailing Harriet's character with that final observation: Harriet "would be always in love" is a fine bit of foreshadowing, whether Emma realizes it or not.

Emma continues to meddle

Harriet has been invited to call on Elizabeth Martin, and Emma is scheming as to how to have Harriet call without the possibility of Harriet spending too much time with the Martins. She doesn't really want Harriet to renew her acquaintance with the Martins, even though she understands the necessity of Harriet paying the call, because she believes Harriet will renew her feelings for Mr Robert Martin, marry him, and then Emma would be "forced" to cut off the relationship.

Mind you, the only person who would force her to cut off that relationship is Emma herself, but she doesn't seem to pay much attention to that.

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Mr Knightley has come over for a chat - he's got business with Mr Woodhouse, and he wants to talk to Emma. First, he wants to find out how she liked Jane Fairfax - and he's disappointed that she's not happier with Jane, whom he defends as being reserved or diffident (a word he's using in the sense of being slow to talk). Notice how he moves chairs to be closer to Emma? (I sure did!)

Mr Elton is to be married

Of course, Mr Knightley wants to tell Emma a piece of gossip that he's heard in town, only he gets scooped by Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax. Of course, Miss Bates manages to hold two conversations simultaneously - one on the haunch of pork that Emma sent to them, interspersed with information about Mr Elton and inquiries as to how Mr Knightley knew about Elton's pending marriage.

Mr Knightley, who was smart enough to figure out what Emma was up to, cannot help giving a bit of detail to Emma as a way of tweaking her:

"It was short--merely to announce--but cheerful, exulting, of course."--Here was a sly glance at Emma. "He had been so fortunate as to--I forget the precise words--one has no business to remember them. The information was, as you state, that he was going to be married to a Miss Hawkins. By his style, I should imagine it just settled."

Everyone in the neighborhood knew Mr Elton had a thing for Emma

It becomes quite clear from Miss Bates's comments that the entire town gossiped about how Mr Elton aspired to marry Emma.

"--A Miss Hawkins!--Well, I had always rather fancied it would be some young lady hereabouts; not that I ever--Mrs Cole once whispered to me--but I immediately said, 'No, Mr Elton is a most worthy young man--but'--In short, I do not think I am particularly quick at those sort of discoveries. I do not pretend to it. What is before me, I see. At the same time, nobody could wonder if Mr Elton should have aspired--Miss Woodhouse lets me chatter on, so good-humouredly. She knows I would not offend for the world."

Harriet's news, and her reaction to Mr Elton's marriage

When Harriet comes busting into Hartfield with news, Emma is certain that Harriet has already learned of Mr Elton's plans, but no: Harriet's news is that she ran into Robert Martin in Highbury as she took shelter from the rain inside Ford's (a local emporium). In fact, he came in with his sister, Elizabeth, who was perfectly ready and willing to ignore Harriet, but Robert Martin talks his sister into saying hello to Harriet, then does the same himself - and then runs after her to warn her not to take a certain route to Hartfield because he was sure it was flooded. What a nice man! Emma - you idiot - he's such a great guy, and based on his conduct, so much kinder and better mannered than Mr Elton - and I say that based on Mr Elton's conduct thus far, and without reference to what is to come!

Even Emma realizes that the Martins have acted really well, and that their behaviour is that of people with genuine feelings for Harriet. Of course, Emma talks herself out of pitying them overly much, based on her conviction that they have disappointed hopes and ambitions, because in delusional Emma-land, she thinks the Martin family hoped to elevate themselves by their association with Harriet. (Only Emma would - or does - think that the Martins were "lower" than her friend Harriet on the social hierarchy.)

In the end, Emma cuts Harriet off by springing the Elton news on her - and Harriet initially takes the news far better than Emma had anticipated, because she's still so twitterpated about having run into the Martins.

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