The Sound of the Page

It’s been said that the fate of world history for generations turned on Dwight D. Eisenhower’s decision of where and when to launch the invasion of Europe in 1944, yet once he launched the 12,000 planes, 7,000 vessels, and 180,000 troops that comprised the largest amphibious assault in world history, he was powerless to affect the outcome. The female protagonists of Jane Austen’s novels could relate to  the general’s situation. While she is being courted by a suitor, her family waits on her decision with bated breath; but once she says I do, she can look forward to a life of doing very little. And so in one form or another Austen’s novels revolve around the courting game. Where else would a female writer during Austen’s time find the narrative grist to sustain a novel?

To say that Mansfield Park is about love and marriage, however, is like saying that Hamlet is about murder and revenge. Well, they are but they aren’t. Like Shakespeare, Austen gives her readers plenty of subtext to digest. She is perhaps a century ahead of her time in portraying the interiority of her heroes through modernist devices like indirect discourse: “She was at home. But alas! It was not such a home, she had not such a welcome as. . . (300).” At other times Austen allows her characters’ actions speak for themselves, such as when the Bertram daughters and Mrs. Norris concur on the innate deficiency of Fanny’s intelligence because she cannot name the rivers of Russia. Although Mrs. Norris, who is such a humorously horrible character that you just want to hug her, does not administer the girls’ formal education, she does set the moral tone in the Bertram household, enabled by the mental absence of Lady Bertram. To those of you who argue that the two sisters, Maria and Julia, prove the efficacy of nature over nurture, think about who it was that dispensed their moral education.

This is not to say that Mrs. Norris provides the only comic relief. Mr. Price is no slouch either. As the spiritual counterpart to Lady Bertram, he too is oblivious to what goes on in his noisy and unruly household; the irony is that he thinks he runs a tight ship. Thus he disses Sir Bertram when he learns about Maria’s scandalous behavior as if he (Bertram) is a gentleman fop who runs a permissive household that he (Mr. Price) would never countenance. Meanwhile, Price is lucky if he can remember the names of his nine children.

Although world history may not turn on the decisions made by Austen’s characters, the author ranks as one of the world’s great novelists by virtue of her ability to turn a phrase. Scott Ross referred me to a fascinating analysis of her style in an article on Mansfield Park by Vladimir Nabokov.* Nabakov uses the term knight’s move for Austen’s method of capturing the intricacy of Fanny’s emotions when she first hears of Sir Thomas’s departure for Antigua. The key is in the sudden shift of language. Quoting from the novel, Nabakov writes, “Fanny’s relief, and her consciousness of it, were quite equal to her cousins’, but a more tender nature suggested that her feelings were ungrateful, and [knight’s move:] she really grieved because she could not grieve” (Nabakov 57). Nabokov doesn’t mention this but Austen also uses more balanced dichotomies in her physical description of Fanny: “She was small of her age, with no glow of complexion, nor any other striking beauty, exceedingly timid and shy, and shrinking from notice; but her air, though awkward, was not vulgar, her voice was sweet, and when she spoke, her countenance was pretty” (Austen 10). Kind of reminds you of hedge-rows that are hardly hedge-rows. No? 

Nabokov also points out how Austen writes descriptive sentences of characters that in their rhythm and construction mirror their speech. This device works especially well with clumsy characters like Rushworth, who, in the discussion of Sotherton’s landscaping, “was eager to assure her ladyship [Lady Bertram] of his acquiescence [about planting shrubbery], and tried to make out something complimentary, but, between his submission to her taste, and his having always intended the same himself, with superadded objects. . .” and so on. Those of us who took ENGL 441 can recall Bakhtin’s description of this device as heteroglossia—when a speech of another is introduced in concealed form. Bakhtin showcases Dickens writing and cites several other English authors who also use it, but Austen's name is absent.

One final thought: It makes you stop and wonder when you realize that the rarefied society of Mansfield Park was predicated on the slave society of Antigua. My reaction is probably the same as those German WWII POWs being held in the U.S. South. They were eating in a roadside diner with the MPs who were supervising them on a roadwork detail. From where the prisoners sat they could see,, to their shock, black American soldiers walking around to the back door to pick up their food. 

*Lectures on Literature. Harcourt (1980). 

Ideas of Escapism

Being a product of an urban environment myself, I’m constantly fascinated by the idea of escape, particularly from the noisy, crowded streets of the metropolis to greener pastures. And I mean this quite literally. Nothing is better than hopping the Jitney bus on a sweltering Friday afternoon, knowing that in two short hours, visions of trash strewn streets, thick hazy air, and loud whizzing cabs will soon be replaced by the peaceful parks and relaxing beaches of Amagansett or Southampton Long Island. It’s almost expected that come Memorial Day, the weekly exodus from New York City to the Hamptons, the Connecticut countryside, or the New Jersey seaside hideaways will filter city streets, separating the few who have remained and those who have escaped. Certainly I understand the need to escape from the chaos and the grime, and therefore, the weekend getaways prove so appealing to city dwellers. However, for the tried and true New Yorkers who sweat out the summer months within 212-718-646 area codes, the city plays host to substitute forms of nature and rural landscapes in order to create a balance within the frenzied metropolis.

Because of my fascination with the city and one’s escape from it, I focused most of my attention on the parallels between the quintessential Georgian city of Bath, as Cosgrove describes, and the city of New York, which within recent years has adopted a “green” campaign to include natural parks and public spaces within its concrete confines. In “England: Prospects, Palladianism and Paternal Landscapes” Cosgrove not only touches on the importance of city “naturalizing” and the incorporation of gardens as “pleasing prospects” in urban development, but he also points to the political implications of such distinctions between country and urban influences. Wealthy landowners of country farms and estates would lease their property for capitalist gain, “creating a market for capitalist accumulation.” Thus, others were pushed out of the city to work these lands, and the wealthy remained in the newly redesigned civic spaces of London, Bath, and the like. Cosgrove states, “The city [became] viewed as a product of the country, or at least of a set of attitudes and values still powerfully rooted in the idea of land as the foundation of wealth and status.”

This idea seems all too familiar. No, every Friday afternoon I was not on that Jitney bus to the Hamptons. Why? Because I had to work. Also, I didn’t have access to five thousand dollars (split amongst four friends) to rent a house for the summer in Montauk. I was forced to sweat it out in the city with the rest of the “poors,” taking solace in an air conditioned office on the twenty seventh floor of the Empire State Building. My idea of an escape was a picnic in Central Park, a visit to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, or a trip to the farmer’s market in Union Square. I’m thankful for the “natural” spaces within the city, despite their artificiality in creation, because I now have the opportunity to escape, even if I'm forced to stay.

Nature in Mansfield Park

  After Garrett’s warning about this week’s novel, I was hesitant to begin reading Mansfield Park. Like Amber, Jane Austen is one of my favorite authors and I did not want to struggle reading any of her novels. Usually, I find myself immersed in her narratives enjoying the quirks she brings to many of her characters. I didn’t like the idea that there was a possibility that I wouldn’t like the character of Fanny. The thought of having to read a novel in which one dislikes the main character can be a tedious task, but after reading the first thirty pages or so, I was rather surprised by the narrative and by the character of Fanny. Although I did not immediately take to her demeanor, I found her character intriguing. She is nothing like the other characters in Austen’s novels; I became very interested in her story. I also found myself frustrated with the way in which other members of her family treated her (excluding Edmund). Mrs Norris in particular makes it a point to remind Fanny of her social status in the household every chance she has. The more Fanny is reminded of her inequalities, the more we see her shy away from others and from the novel itself. 

As I continued reading the  novel, I found myself in search of questions relating to the theme of Nature, and I thought it was interesting how Austen parallels the cultivation of the gardens at Mr. Rushworth’s home with the way in which society must cultivate social appearances. The gardens, according to Mr. Rushworth, are not acceptable as they are; in fact, he contemplates hiring a landscaper to adjust and improve the grounds. The idea of a garden is in itself man made and artificial, and the desire to readjust it raises many questions about the natural environment. Is the natural setting not good enough as is? If the natural environment is tampered with, is it still apart of the natural setting? When does it stop being natural and starts to become artificial?  After rereading this particular scene, it struck me that not only is the natural environment readjusted to fit social expectations, but the characters themselves are also preoccupied with maintaining social appearances. Mrs. Norris constantly attempts to follow the rules of proper etiquette by maintaining a clear divide between herself and those “below” her that she inevitably makes a mockery of herself. She easily forgets that if it was not for the help of Sir Thomas, she would not have much to live off of. Although social status is clearly a construction of society, in the novel, Austen points out how class distinction seems to function as something natural and instinctive. 

Even with Fanny’s character development, we see Austen playing with the notions of nature verses nurture. Initially, Fanny is a plain and dependent character who is robbed of any charm or wit. Her personality seems “natural,” but as she interacts with others, one could argue that the manner in which she was treated over the years led to her fragile and insecure disposition. Then, as she develops into a young woman, her beauty and grace is noticed by those around her. Characters such as Mr. Crawford take keen interest in her, and she begins to break out of her shell (Although her modesty and strong sense of morality never falters). Slowly, she starts to move up the social ladder in such a way that seems natural. Throughout the text, Austen continuously blends the already murky lines between nature and nurture encouraging her readers to question the notions surrounding social conformity, nature, and gender performativity.

Manipulation of Natures

Like Amber, I was also drawn to the questions of nature/nurture in Mansfield Park. While Fanny is innately good and moral, her education and manners are a result of her upbringing in Mansfield Park. Fanny’s innate characteristics are “improved” upon at Mansfield Park  and when she returns to Portsmouth she realizes that Mansfield Park is her true home. There is little doubt of the impact of the environment on the formation of the self. However, Austen problematizes the concept of nature vs. nurture throughout the novel. One example, is Maria and Julia’s behavior. Although Maria and Julia were raised as gentlewomen, they behave poorly toward Fanny and immorally in their relations to Henry. Both sisters are drawn to Henry’s charm and become competitive in their quest for his affections. The sister’s behavior illustrates the hypocrisy and corruptibility of the aristocracy. Unlike Fanny, the sisters are duped by his charm and insincere emotions. The entire novel reveals the ability to alter one’s nature for utility and self-interest. Outward looks are deceiving and everyone must use reason to discern a person’s “true” nature. This made me think of the Spanish saying, “Ojos vemos, corazones no sabemos” which literally translates into “Eyes we see, heart we don’t know.” Henry and Mary also represent the corrupting influence of the environment.
  Henry and Mary were raised in the city and know how to manipulate their natures effectively in order to pursue their own self-interests. A telling episode is Mary and Mrs. Grant’s conversation about marriage in the beginning of the novel. Mary reveals that marriage is a “maneuvering business” and everyone is “taken in” (). Mrs. Grant tells Mary that she has attended “a bad school for matrimony” and that Mansfield Park with “cure“ Mary and Henry without “any taking in” (). Mrs. Grant assures Mary that she and Henry will not be taken because they will be the ones to manipulate the situation. Mrs. Grant tells Mary to have “a little imagination” and that if “one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, then we make a second better” and thus the would be “evil-minded” “are more taken in and deceived than the parties themselves” (). Thus, Mary tries to manipulate Edmund to change careers and convince Fanny to marry Henry in a plot to assure her close relations to Edmund. Henry is the constant wooer and plays with Maria, Julia, and Fanny’s emotions, which in the end disgrace Maria. Henry, however, can still recover form the scandal and marry well.
I also found the juxtaposition of Mrs. Grant’s and Mary conversation and the discussion of improving Sotherton well done. The connection between the manipulation of both human nature and the environment was very interesting. Mrs. Norris’s constant need for social approval reveals her to be highly interested in the utility and constant improvement of nature to promote social mobility and exhibit taste. Mrs. Norris says that if she owned Sotherton she would “not think of the expense” and would “have everything done in the best style” (). Mrs. Norris is focused on augmenting the aesthetics of the ground and thereby her status as a person of taste.

Landscaping Gothic Allusions in Cosgrove’s England: Prospects, Palladianism and Paternal Landscapes

      In 1737 James Dormer took up residence at his estate, Rousham, about ten miles north of Oxford. The property included rolling lawns, clusters of trees, and long walks. The design of the many grandiose architectural and natural features, crafted by Charles Bridgeman, encompassed Dutch, English, Italian, and French influences. The paddock, with the help of the ha-ha, or sunken ditch, “allowed for grazing cattle to appear within the bounds of the immediate area of the house, uniting productive and aesthetic land uses” (199). Yet this design was drastically altered to resemble picturesque landscaping that mimics the composition, mainly in terms of gardens and views, of a landscape painting. William Kent redesigned the property with a Gothic influence that employed Gothic bridges, flying buttresses, ruined arches, and sculptures of violent creatures. Like the origins of Gothic literature, the Gothic elements of the property stood in stark contrast to the unadorned English country side just as the juxtaposition between antithetical principals of Roman authority and Gothic liberty. Nature was endowed with a false freedom to shape the landscape only within the confines of carefully manicured grounds. Even the likes of Horace Walpole commented that Dormer’s property illustrated that “all nature is a garden…the inversion of art and nature is compete [within the garden] and reveals stability and perfection in English society” (qtd. in Cosgrove).

            Rousham requires the viewer to “create nature as a picture—literally and theoretically—because all is an illusion” (204). Nature had a profound impact upon the development of the Gothic genera in terms of the psychological mystification of both the characters and the readers. If we take stock in David Hume’s theory that “all reasoning is nothing but a species of sensation” then nature and our interpretation of our emotions can confuse the distinction between reality and fantasy (qtd. in Cosgrove). The surroundings in Walpole’s “The Castle of Otranto” almost seem to come alive. In the tale, an ancient prophesy states, “the castle and lordship of Otranto should pass from the present family, whenever the real owner should be grown too large to inhabit it" (Walpole 11). This prophesy comes to light upon the death of the soon to be married Prince Conrad. A marriage between Conrad and Princess Isabella would have dramatically changed the composition of the ruling powers of the castle. The very nature or essence of the castle seems to work against the marriage when the large helmet of a statue crushes Conrad. The events of the story, while embodying elements of the Gothic, also depict a perversion of nature and its affects upon humans. Just as Dormer manipulated his property by manicuring and manipulating nature, so too does nature or architecture seem to manipulate the characters in Walpole’s story. There is a deeply rooted connection between the composure of natural surroundings and the psychological state of the individual that is exposed as casual in the Gothic where humans lack complete control. The efforts of Dormer to cultivate an estate that exuded opulence and perfection ultimately presented an illusion or perversion of nature akin to the skewed reality localized in the Gothic genera.           

                

Landscape Ideology

Landscape Ideology

Cosgrove’s chapter on English landscapes is a fine historical analysis of the complex inter-relationship between society, aesthetics, economics, and politics. He is also sensitive to the changes and revaluations that occur when ideas pass from one cultural context to another, in this case from Italy to England. One aspect of his analysis I found very interesting is the process by which a society hides a reality, whether social, economic, or cultural, with an artificially constructed image or conception of itself. With this conception, the ruling class attempts to deceive itself and the rest of society.

The reality for England in the 17^th and 18^th centuries, according to Cosgrove, is that it was becoming a mercantilist, capitalist state, rather than an absolute monarchy. This was due to the strength of its navy, the influence of Parliament, and the commercial occupations of many of the landowners. The effect of this on landscape design was that no imposing imperial palace was built to symbolize absolutist control over society. Instead, the landscaping symbol of England became the country house: “A well-managed country house and its lands form a self-sufficient world, a microcosm of the mercantilist state” (196).

Whereas in 16^th century Venice Palladio’s neoclassicism represented a desire to legitimate Venice’s imperialism, in England it evoked “the moral and political perfection” of republican Rome – which seems to indicate some anxiety about England's own emerging empire. In country houses the Palladian neoclassicism combined with Gothic touches to create a union of “Roman authority and Gothic liberty” (203). This liberty is only for the “lord,” the landowner who controls the layout, management, and production of the land. The controlling, neoclassical design applied to the landscape was disapproved of by the older aristocracy. They instead had an idea of a “natural” landscape -- not an overly modified one -- intended for use, in which the the lord cared for the peasant as for his children. Obviously, this paternalistic feudal fantasy of “merry England” never existed. The newer, commercial aristocracy was more concerned with maximizing the profits from their land. They imposed a formal neoclassical design on the land, which they could view as a painting from the commanding vantage-point of their house. The peasants’ dwellings were removed to clear the view, thus making invisible the major factor in the estate’s wealth. Nature was a garden that reflected “the stability and perfection of English civilization” (204). As England was moving to capitalist relations of production with cities as the centers of wealth and power, the image the ruling class used to represent the nation was the country house, whose aesthetically pleasing landscape design was considered “natural.”

Even in the cities, where the squalor of concentrated poor workers was impossible to ignore, there was an attempt to treat the city as the country. The design of London was structured by parks which held country houses. This amounts to a “denial of the role of the city as an increasingly autonomous center of capitalist accumulation, market control and ultimately production, organizing the life of the countryside” (217). Treating London as the country with landscaped parks and villas reveals an anxiety about the reality of England's capitalist development, and about the resulting discontented poor workers. Cogrove calls the imposition of landscape design, in the cases of England and Venice, a “landscape ideology” (222). In Venice this ideology involved “linear perspective, the logic of urban aesthetics, and urban visual control”; its aesthetics attempts to hide Venice's shift toward a “second feudalism”(221,222). In England “colore and aerial perspective, the logic of rural aesthetics and visual control over the countryside” obfuscate England's progression toward urban industrial capitalism (221). Thus aesthetics can serve state power not only by openly glorifying it but also by disguising its actual operations.

Innate or acquired?

First off, a little confession. I love Jane Austen. No, really… LOVE her. I have loved her novels since I read Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility in my high school AP English classes. I have read and re-read her novels since then. Jane Austen and the Brontë’s are responsible for my decision to major in English. Just to clarify, I don’t mean that I am one of the bandwagon Austen-philes that read the mass-marketed fanfic that provide sequels for Mr. Darcy and Lizzie’s life together or that tell what would happen if zombies infiltrated Pemberley. I’m old school. I enjoy her novels for the way she depicts characters and gently laughs at all of them. I love the detail she incorporates in the text and how she makes me feel as though I’m sitting with her in the drawing room, discussing those around us.  

With that said, this is the first time that I’ve ever read Mansfield Park. I remember picking it up once in my late teens but I can’t remember why I didn’t read it at that time. I’m glad now that my first time reading Mansfield Park is as a part of this class. As much as I adore my Austen, I think I would have been bored stiff by, or quite possibly have abandoned the book altogether. However, with the readings from this class percolating in the background of my brain I found myself involved in the text through the concepts of Nature/nature. Throughout my reading I found myself looking at the ways that Austen it playing with or pointing out different features of human nature. I was particularly interested in how the characters act out this question of whether human nature is in fact, natural, or if it is fabricated. There seems to be an assumption of innate nature rather than actual definitive actions of nature when the nature we’re discussing is of the human sort. The Bertram girls are assumed to be ladies, they are assumed to have genteel minds and fine perceptions but as the story progresses we see how “nature” really plays out. On the other hand there is Fanny who is assumed to be low and coarse because of the type of people her parents are but she ends up being the most morally upright person in the novel.

One other authorial move that I especially enjoyed in the novel was how the action revolves around families. The novel begins by discussing the marriages of the three Ward sisters. One marries well, one moderately, and one “to disoblige her family” (1). Since many of the people in the book are related to or spring from the three Ward sisters it could be expected that they would share similar traits or possibly have similar personalities. It seemed strange to me that through marriage a woman’s personality and her offspring could be so materially different from her beginnings. I did enjoy seeing the difference between the children of one Ward sister and Sir Bertram and another Ward sister and a Lieutenant in the Marines. This same idea is echoed in the Grant-Crawford family. It was intriguing to see the idea of nature played out through the characters, where they begin and what is expected of them compared to where they end up and how they actually behave.

Looking and Seeing in Mansfield Park (Volume I)

There doesn't appear to be anything that's interesting about Fanny Price in Volume I. When her aunt, Mrs. Norris meets her in Northampton, the narrator describes the ten year old girl as “small, with no glow of complexion, nor any other striking beauty...and shrinking from notice” (10). Other than her countenance appearing to be pretty when she speaks, the reader is not immediately drawn to Fanny's physical appearance. Her girl cousins, Julia and Maria Bertram, find her uninteresting, “cheap,” and lacking a want of “genius and emulation” (15). Only Edmund is sensitive to Fanny and willing to cope with her shyness and newly found experience of making a home outside of her immediate family. The similarity of Edmund and Fanny's kind, gentle, and “excellent nature” allows the two to naturally seek out the other for help (12).

As with most of Austen's novels, it can be very predictable to discern how the apparent differences, disagreements, and distances will be reconciled in the end. However, Mansfield Park contains a variety of irregularities that are out of their natural order, so to speak. Fanny leaves her home to be raised by her aunt and her husband; Lady Bertram cares “more [for] her pug than her children;” Fanny's upbringing is influenced by a mixture of Lady Bertram's indolent, extravagant behavior while Mrs. Norris' “spirit of activity” and concern for money contrasts the behavior of her other aunt; Fanny's heart becomes divided in two between her brother William and cousin Edmund; and perhaps the most difficult part is how to raise Fanny properly and make it clear she is not a Bertram, while making her cousins not think to lowly of her and realizing that their “rank, fortune, rights, and expectations, will be always be different” (9). In other words, how to make a family member feel welcomed to a new home and environment while still preserving the distinction that they can never fully be a part of that environment?

Perhaps a possible answer is marriage. Marriage prompted by attractive good looks, financial security, as is the case with the Crawfords, could afford a kind of inheritance to a new place or home. They are charitably welcomed to Mansfield Park, and are subsequently paired up with possible suitors. But Henry and Mary Crawford's arrival also upsets the plans of others, namely Mr. Rushworth and Miss Bertram's engagement. Even Fanny has a difficult time trying to adapt to the arrival of the Crawfords. For example, Fanny “has great pleasure” looking at Miss Crawford and admiring her beauty (50). When her harp arrives, the narrator notes, it “added to her beauty” as her playing it near a window surely becomes “enough to catch any man's heart” (52). Fanny judges physical and moral beauty different than others. While the other women think Mr. Crawford handsome, Fanny does not agree (81). And “she [Fanny] was a little surprised that he [Edmund] could spend so many hours with Miss Crawford and not see more of the sort of fault which he had already observed” (52). Whenever Edmund becomes concentrated on Miss Crawford, he forgets about Fanny, and also of the Miss Crawford's rude behavior. How can that be?

Perhaps, Edmund is an example of those of whom Julia speaks of when she says, “Those who see quickly, will resolve quickly, and act quickly” (49). Part of what this novel seems to concern itself with is who sees what, and what are people looking at or admiring and what kinds of actions or feelings do those observations prompt? Edmund may be too quick to act on his feelings for Miss Crawford because he doesn't take time to cultivate them; his feelings for her are prompted by instinct. On the other hand, he has spent time and leisure with Fanny that he “knows [her] looks too well” and is able to discern when she has a headache (57). But unless human interactions and activity were to slow down, then perhaps we don't have to worry about seeing quickly and acting quickly. But is this even possible? Can we only find time and leisure in the natural world because change seems to be much slower there?

It seems like that's the case with Fanny. She looks to nature for moral guidance and appreciation- “Here's harmony! Here's repose!” (89). If people attended more to Nature, they would be “carried more out of themselves by contemplating such a scene” (90). Fanny suggests that such an appreciation suggests that there is something outside of ourselves that warrants our merit, and can teach us to become better judges of character and morality. But only if we do not see too quickly and are not distracted by the urging request to hear another song (90); then can we experience harmony, something that Austen suggests, “all painting and all music” leave behind (89).