Authors: Peter Archer
Bad Austen (26 page)
Charlotte leaned forward and glanced at both women, but then rested her eyes out the window toward the copse. “No, nor do I wish to be without.”
Elizabeth alighted from her chair and stood in front of the window, thus regaining her friend’s full attention. “Charlotte, how could you marry a pompous, monstrous man to whom the entire community gives respect and admiration? Would you allow your life to be a lie?”
Mrs. Bennet yanked on her bed cap, causing it to sit askew. “Mr. Bennet, please help our daughter to see that Charlotte’s marriage would keep our lives tidily together; there would be no sin in it. taking a man from his appointed pulpit should not be our doing. If god puts him there, we are doing the good Lord’s work to keep him there. Don’t you agree, Mr. Bennet?”
Mr. Bennet exhaled a married man’s sigh. “I agree that keeping the truth from those in power gives them little ammunition to fire in our direction. Simply because one keeps the truth, one doesn’t become a liar, my dear.”
Charlotte took an opportunity to speak and seated herself amidst the crossfire of glares and glances. “Let me compare evils. Would it be better to marry a man like Mr. Darcy? The whole of society has recognized his narrow-minded and indecent behavior. I would marry a man respected by the whole, and for the other part, when he says that of which I might be reasonably ashamed, I can join the whole and look away. For it has been established he is respectable, though sometimes lacking the right words for a situation, but respectable. We only need to agree with him to manage his instability. He mustn’t make known to the whole that which would draw indivertible attention.”
Mrs. Bennet exhaled a married woman’s sigh. “You only need be a good girl for the next ten years, and then you will be an old married woman, allowed a day in bed every now and then.”
Elizabeth stood and only her father heard her stamp a stubborn foot beneath her skirt. “I guess it has been settled, and although I believe it to be settled poorly, the heaviest weights do sink first. Is Mr. Collins joining us for dinner to watch us eat it?” Elizabeth asked.
“My nerves will not have it, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Bennet declared. “The servants have orders to bring my dinner to my bed.”
Mr. Bennet arose, too, and took Elizabeth’s arm. “We are not to speak of this at dinner. Now that my brother has died, only the four of us are privy to this matter, and we must keep it. Tomorrow, we will join Mr. Collins in the library for an interview. Miss Charlotte, I will enlighten you how nourishment might be provided to your husband, and we shall not speak of it again.”
D
ID
Y
OU
K
NOW?
Some readers of
Persuasion
, Austen’s last completed novel, believe there is still something “incomplete” about it. It is quite a bit shorter than any of the other novels with the exception of the early
Northanger Abbey
, and the William Elliot plot thread has been seen as slightly underdeveloped. Austen started writing
The Elliots
—her working title for
Persuasion
—in 1815, and by the time she completed it, her health had begun to fail. It is possible that she wasn’t able to do everything with this novel that she would have liked to do. Still, many people choose
Persuasion
as their favorite Austen novel. While no one could deny that the dazzling
Emma
was more technically brilliant,
Persuasion
is surely the most moving of Austen’s novels, and that might explain its special place among them.
Jane Austen finished
Persuasion
on July 18, 1816. Or, rather, she wrote “Finis” at the end of the manuscript but then felt dissatisfied with the ending and rewrote it, discarding one chapter entirely, revising another, and adding new material. Because of this, we have two manuscript chapters—the only original manuscript pages from the finished novels.
The original ending, which is usually appended to modern editions, was first published by Jane’s nephew, who included it in the second edition of his
Memoir
in 1871. As he so correctly notes, the manuscript chapters are inferior to the revision but in themselves are quite worthy pieces of writing. In them, Anne Elliot plays a more passive role in letting Captain Wentworth know her feelings for him, which happens when she assures him she is not engaged to William Elliot. Admiral Croft has insisted that Wentworth ask about this because he wants to vacate Kel-lynch Hall if she and Mr. Elliot have any desire to live there before the Crofts’s lease is up. But Anne is the one responsible for the original separation between herself and Wentworth, and she deeply wounded him when she broke off the engagement, so it is fitting that her words should affect their reconciliation in a more active way than this.
The revision contains wonderful new material featuring the Musgroves, and, of course, the breathtaking scene in which Anne and Captain Wentworth communicate their feelings “under cover,” as it were. Anne, in a dialogue with Captain Harville, defends the constancy of women in love, declaring that men forget sooner and women love longer even when their love is hopeless. Captain Wentworth hears this and writes a letter to Anne declaring his love while he pretends to be writing to someone else. The suspense is exquisite, and the dialogue perhaps the most gripping in all of Austen’s writing. With this new ending, Austen allows quiet Anne Elliot a most eloquent defense of women: “Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story. Education has been theirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been in their hands.”
L
eia:
A
N
ovel
M
ARTTI
N
ELSON
Princess Leia Organa, lately of the space-transport The Millennium Falcon, pulled a lever in an effort to re-engage the damaged engine of that vehicle. The flying hack sat in woeful disrepair since its captain, the dastardly pirate Han Solo, piloted the rickety rust bucket into a deep crater upon a planet-like body afloat in the dark abyss of the heavens. It took all of the venerable princess’ composure not to direct an improper word at the stubborn lever, which protested even after she had welded it whilst wearing a most displeasing set of goggles, unfashionable lo these past three seasons.
One moment later, Mr. Solo, who was most assuredly not a gentleman of any means, manners, or delightful expressions, ambled by in an inelegant fashion, resembling a scruffy nerfherder. In perfect bad character, he reached for the princess like a Wookiee desirous of a side of fresh bantha. His hand brushed hers, which was, at the moment, unprotected by a glove. Such familiar contact was, naturally, not befitting a royal of her dignity and stature in the universe. With a most bitter sigh, she rebuffed his efforts at chicanery, which was surely all the smuggler was about.
The villain spoke: “My most humble pardons, Your Worship. I intervened only in an effort to assist you in your welding distress.”
Princess Leia rolled her expressive eyes, for the odious man declined to utilize her proper title, though she had schooled him in the use of it repeatedly at the frozen tundras of the Rebel base, located in the neighborhood of Hoth. “Mr. Solo,” replied she, “kindly refrain from addressing me thusly.”
“Indeed, Princess.”
The maiden frowned, for his acquiescence puzzled her. She bristled with disdain for the ruffian, yet her heart inexplicably beeped like an overwrought R2 unit in his presence. She turned away. “You do make things distressing at times.”
“Indubitably, I do. But perhaps you might leave off behaving as if I were Jabba the Hutt. You must acknowledge that betimes, in certain conditions, you do not consider me a loathsome laser brain.”
It seemed pure folly to acknowledge this statement, so the princess rubbed her aggrieved hand. Perhaps one pleasant consequence of the explosion of her planet might be that her mother, who interfered dreadfully with her daughter’s life, would never observe Leia participating in the manual repair of a space carriage or exchanging pleasantries with a base marauder like Han Solo.
At length, she deigned to reply, “On certain occasions, when you take the opportunity to set aside your scoundrel ways, it may be that your character does not approximate that of a conduit worm.”
The uncouth rake laughed at her astute observation, displaying for all the galaxy his low-born manners. “Scoundrel? Scoundrel? Such a word, directed as it is at my person, is eminently pleasing to my ears.”
In a complete disregard for propriety, Mr. Solo took Leia’s hand and caressed it familiarly. Only he could be so bold!
“Desist your caress, sir!”
“I have no idea to what you are referring.”
Leia had been reared properly in the court of Alderaan. Certainly, on occasion, she might have opportunity to encounter the stray military regiment of Stormtroopers, or be obliged to make a swift escape from doom during her missions of diplomatic mercy. However, until today, she had never suffered trepidation and blushes such as she presently endured.
“Cease, I pray, for my hands are soiled with the common grease of drudgery.”
The half-witted scalawag made no efforts to halt his untoward stroking of her shockingly naked palm. “No apologies are necessary, Worshipfulness, for, you see, my very own hands are similarly besmirched. What apprehension creases your porcelain brow?”
“Apprehension?”
Mr. Solo abandoned all delicacy and drew the princess toward him. “What a pity it is that you tremble so.”
“I must disagree. I am not trembling.”
“Your protestations notwithstanding, you have a great opinion of me because I am a scoundrel. Indeed, I have often considered that an increase in the number of scoundrels in your acquaintance would improve your disposition.”
“I cannot oblige your misapprehension. I enjoy the company of pleasant Rebel gentlemen.”
“I am a pleasant gentleman.”
“Not at all. You—”
Without further ado, the reprobate placed his lips upon hers! This gratuitous display of libidinous passion was interrupted by the metallic manservant, C-3PO.
“Sir!” spoke the machine excitedly. “Upon attempting repairs to the equipage, I came upon the reverse power flux coupling and rendered it isolated.”
Mr. Solo ceased his ministrations upon the stricken princess and muttered, “How very fortunate a turn of events, Goldenrod. I am in your debt.”
“I took no trouble at all about the matter,” replied the hapless droid.
Leia slipped away, lest her reputation be as soiled as her hands.
D
ID
Y
OU
K
NOW?
Despite repeated efforts, Jane Austen did not see
Northanger Abbey
—originally called
Susan
—published in her lifetime. Henry had negotiated with the publisher Crosby for the manuscript’s return in 1816—thirteen years after it had been purchased and then not published. (Only after he had possession of the manuscript, repurchased for the original selling price of £10, did Henry reveal that the author was the same as she who had written
Pride and Prejudice
. Ha!)
Once the manuscript of
Susan
was back in her hands, Austen went through it, changing the heroine’s name to Catherine. In 1816 she wrote the “Advertisement by the Authoress” in which she says the book was finished in 1803 and that, since then, “places, manners, books, and opinions have undergone considerable changes.” She takes three sentences (out of five) to criticize Crosby—though not by name—for his nonaction: “That any bookseller should think it worth-while to purchase what he did not think it worth-while to publish seems extraordinary.” Obviously, the business still irritated her.
In March of 1817 she wrote to her niece Fanny: “Miss Catherine is put upon the Shelve for the present, and I do not know that she will ever come out;—but I have a something ready for Publication, which may perhaps appear about a twelvemonth hence.” That something was
The Elliots
; that is,
Persuasion
. But four months after writing this letter Jane Austen was dead, and it was up to others to see that these two novels got published. As her nephew writes, speaking of the continued lives of his aunt’s characters as she used to playfully reveal them, “Of the good people in ‘Northanger Abbey’ and ‘Persuasion’ we know nothing more than what is written: for before those works were published their author had been taken away from us, and all such amusing communications had ceased forever.”
Henry and Cassandra decided on the titles
Northanger Abbey
and
Persuasion
for the two novels, and Henry negotiated a deal with Jane’s previous publisher, John Murray.
Northanger Abbey
and
Persuasion
were published together in December of 1817, although the title page says 1818, and 1,750 copies were printed. Included with the novels were the “Advertisement” and a “Biographical Notice of the Author” written by Henry, which was the first effort to make public the details of Jane Austen’s life. It is a somewhat idealized portrait, emphasizing Jane’s sweetness of temper, Christian faith and virtue, and genius. Henry describes his sister’s appearance, accomplishments, wit, and literary taste. According to Henry, “So much did she shrink from notoriety, that no accumulation of fame would have induced her, had she lived, to affix her name to any productions of her pen.” What on earth would Jane Austen think of the fame her name has accumulated in the almost two centuries that have passed since her beloved brother wrote that sentence?
