Sense and Sensibility, Volume the First, Chapter Twenty-Two

In which Miss Steele reveals something that explains a great deal about Edward Ferrars's behavior and attitudes, and Elinor is not amused; and in which our narrator did not, in fact, keep it up the rest of last week.



We've got a short installment up tonight, as this brings us to the close of Volume the First. Never fear, though, we'll be starting right in on Volume the Second next time!

Since we've only got one chapter this go around, though, there aren't any notes and is only but one illustration:

4:59 - Amiably bashful.

Thus, I will keep this short and get right on to recording the next installment. See you next time!


If you would like to read along, the text can be found at Project Gutenberg, and high-res copies of the Thompson illustrations can be found in the British Library's Flickr stream. No reading ahead, though!

Sense and Sensibility, Volume the First, Chapters Twenty and Twenty-One

In which Mr. and Mrs. Palmer continue to be cheerfully silly and rudely critical, respectively; and we meet the elder and younger Miss Steeles, vulgarly inappropriate and shrewd but artless, also respectively; and in which you narrator realizes that this book is rather making up for the lack of female voices in Treasure Island.



Hey, lookit that! I actually did get one done early! Let's see if I can keep it up the rest of the week.

I've only got two short notes in this one, both contained in one of Mrs. Palmer's speeches about her dear husband. At 6:39, she says that he is "canvassing against the election," which just means campaigning. Shortly thereafter, around 7:08, she says that he states that if he's elected he "will never frank for" her. At least at that time, members of Parliament (or "MPs") were allowed to send mail with free postage if they signed their name on the back of the envelope, something which Mr. Palmer is apparently not willing to do for his wife.

Illustrations!

17:39 - Mischievous tricks.

25:57 - Drinking to her best affections.

If you would like to read along, the text can be found at Project Gutenberg, and high-res copies of the Thompson illustrations can be found in the British Library's Flickr stream. No reading ahead, though!

Sense and Sensibility, Volume the First, Chapters Eighteen and Nineteen

In which Edward continues rather cold and reserved and is revealed to have a suspicious ring, then goes away; and we meet Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, the former most rude and the latter most gregarious; and in which our narrator is mildly creeped out by the hair ring but knows it was a different time and there's really nothing wrong with it.



I actually had this recording all ready to go for Friday, but wasn't able to get everything else together in time. Ah well. Maybe I'll be able to sneak an extra recording in this week to make up for it.

At 4:10, Marianne makes reference to "the taste and elegance of him who first described what picturesque beauty was." This refers to William Gilpin (1724-1804), a clergyman, artist, and Romantic writer who, in essays such as the 1792 "On Picturesque Beauty," was one of the first to define, well, "picturesque beauty." It meant, basically, "that which looks good in a picture," largely focusing on natural landscapes, rustic settings, etc.

At 5:01, we (or at least, I) learn that "banditti" is an acceptable plural for "bandit," and I will be sure to use that word as much as possible now.

6:58 - Came to take a survey of the guest.

When Edward refers, at 12:45, to lawyers driving around in "very knowing gigs," he just means fashionable carriages.

At 13:34, Mrs. Dashwood projects that Edward will end up like Columella, referring to the title character of Columella; or; The Distressed Anchoret: A Colloquial Tale, a 1779 novel by Richard Graves (1715-1804). The short explanation of this reference is essentially what's in the text: Columella is a gentleman who never worked a day in his life who has high hopes for his sons' future professions. A much, much more in-depth analysis of the reference can be found here, if you're into that sort of thing.

Lastly, at 21:06, we are told that Mrs. Palmer "expects to be confined in February," meaning that she is pregnant and is due then. Back in those days, women (well, those who could afford to, anyway) were basically bed-bound in the days leading up to and after giving birth. Not that it's a picnic now, but childbirth was a much, much more dangerous thing back then than it is today.

21:55 - "I declare they are quite charming."

If you would like to read along, the text can be found at Project Gutenberg, and high-res copies of the Thompson illustrations can be found in the British Library's Flickr stream. No reading ahead, though!

Sense and Sensibility, Volume the First, Chapters Fifteen to Seventeen

In which Willoughby is also suddenly called away on "business," breaking Marianne's heart into little bits and giving Elinor suspicious feelings; and Edward Ferrars makes his first appearance at Barton, whilst acting unfortunately cold and reserved; and in which our narrator realizes he's foolishly been doing his timestamps wrong possibly all the way back to "Rikki-tikki-tavi."



Getting this up a bit late, so right to the illustrations:

1:42 - Apparently in violent affliction.

21:03 - Begging her to stop.

It must be noted that, at 24:09 when Edwards states that "those bottoms must be dirty in winter," he is referring to the valleys, not any other sort of "bottom" you may be thinking of.

At 29:46, Edward mentions another of Marianne's favorite authors (along with Cowper -- again -- and Scott): James Thomson, another nature-loving poet and forerunner of Romanticism. He's best known for his poem cycle The Seasons, as well as for writing the lyrics to "Rule Britannia."

And yes, somehow I only JUST NOW REALIZED that I've been timestamping the illustrations and notes wrong, as I've been noting the time as I record, not taking into account the 16-second intro music that I now put in at the start. That's as many as EIGHTEEN recordings I've done this on without it even OCCURRING to me what I was doing. Sigh. I've updated back to "The Ransom of Red Chief," and I'll fix up Around the World in Eighty Days soon.


If you would like to read along, the text can be found at Project Gutenberg, and high-res copies of the Thompson illustrations can be found in the British Library's Flickr stream. No reading ahead, though!

Sense and Sensibility, Volume the First, Chapters Twelve to Fourteen

In which Colonel Brandon is called away on "business," about which there is endless speculation (primarily from Mrs. Jennings, and in which we learn that the Colonel supposedly has an illegitimate daughter), and it becomes increasingly clear to all that Marianne and Willoughby are engaged, and in which we learn of yet another type of carriage.



We've got two of the Thompson illustrations this time around. Honestly, I'm surprised that there are so many illustrations in his edition. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love this book (of course), but it's not exactly what I would call "action-packed," and yet there are a solid forty illustrations throughout. That's, like, three times as many as were in Treasure Island! Though, I suppose Thompson could probably do these line drawings somewhat faster than Wyeth could do his full oil paintings.

Um. Anyway.

A quick note: at 4:17, Willoughby mentions that the horse he is giving Marianne is named Queen Mab. For those of you unfamiliar, Queen Mab (though potentially drawn from various folkloric characters) is a fairy originally described in one of Mercutio's monologues in Romeo and Juliet. It's... not a good sign for their relationship.

5:52 - He cut off a long lock of her hair. Creeper.

When Colonel Brandon "looked at the direction" on his letter at 9:41, it means that he checked the address, and when at 13:26 he states that he will "go post," he means to travel by a post-chaise, a two or four-seater carriage on four wheels, pulled by two or four horses, one of which was ridden by the driver. They were apparently quite fast, which explains the good colonel's choice.

Oh, and when Mrs. Jennings tells Elinor at 14:37 that Miss Williams is Colonel Brandon's "natural daughter," she doesn't just mean his biological daughter, she means his illegitimate daughter, a rather important distinction.

15:59 - "I have found you out in spite of all your tricks."

By the way, I love Mrs. Jennings. Much like with Mrs. Rachel Lynde, I just adore a good busybody.


If you would like to read along, the text can be found at Project Gutenberg, and high-res copies of the Thompson illustrations can be found in the British Library's Flickr stream. No reading ahead, though!

Sense and Sensibility, Volume the First, Chapters Nine to Eleven

In which Marianne takes a tumble down a hill into the arms of a dashing young suitor, all too perfectly matched to her temperament and they go all Mean Girls on Colonel Brandon, and in which our narrator points out that he is currently reading Jane Austen to you and that you really shouldn't be surprised to find that he's a fan of Mean Girls.



And now we've met the charming young Willoughby, who perhaps brings out the worst in Marianne, and now our story proper can really begin.

Our first note this time around comes in at about 9:35, when Sir John remarks that Willoughby can be up dancing until the wee hours and then get up early to "ride to covert," meaning to go hunting at the thickets where game hides out.

Then, at 13:38, we get more references to Marianne's literary tastes, specifically her unreserved love for Romantic writers: the aforementioned William Cowper and Sir Walter Scott (best known today as the author of Ivanhoe, which we may read here someday if we ever want a cracking adventure story with nice big dollops of antisemitism in it). They compare to her and Willoughby admiring Alexander Pope "no more than is proper," as he was less a Romantic and more a satirical wit.

15:39 - They sang together.

Then, while talking smack about Colonel Brandon's powers of conversation around 20:21, Willoughby says that his topics might stretch as far as the existence of nabobs (someone who made a fortune in India before returning to England), gold mohrs (coins used in British India and apparently more correctly spelled "mohur" now), and palanquins (which we previously met when Around the World in Eighty Days stopped in British India). In other words, the sort of things obvious "exotic" things that anyone with a passing knowledge of current events in early nineteenth-century Britain would be familiar with, and would only be slightly more interesting to bring up than the weather.

Shortly after that, one of the grievous offenses Colonel Brandon has perpetrated against Willoughby was that he "found fault with the hanging of [his] curricle," where a curricle is a rather sporty light carriage hung between only two wheels, pulled by a pair of horses. Man, there sure were a lot of different types of carriages back in the day, huh? I suppose it's no stranger than us knowing the difference between a minivan, a pickup truck, a station wagon, and a coupe.

Also, "found fault with the hanging of my curricle" is another of those sentences that really sounds snicker-worthy to modern ears.


If you would like to read along, the text can be found at Project Gutenberg, and high-res copies of the Thompson illustrations can be found in the British Library's Flickr stream. No reading ahead, though!

Sense and Sensibility, Volume the First, Chapters Four to Eight

In which the Dashwoods move out of the home in which they are now unwelcome into a more "modest" cottage, we are introduced to their overly expressive landlord, his boring wife, her dirty old woman mother, and their reserved colonel friend, and in which our narrator really must learn to talk about "balls" in a more appropriate manner.



Here we're introduced to the Dashwoods' new cottage home at Barton where (at around 17:35) we hear about its "demesne," or the manor land reserved for the lord's own use (in this case, their front yard) and "the offices," which means their kitchen and pantry.

At about 23:02, we get to the sole illustration in these five chapters:

23:02 - So shy before company.

And then a couple of other notes: at 26:47, Sir John is unable to get many people to come to his party because "it was moonlight" and many already had engagements. Back in those days, clear nights with a lot of moonlight were preferred for social activities, because it made it easier to travel along the dark country roads.

Last, at 30:10 we hear how Mrs. Jennings is a widow with "ample jointure," and I think I should get credit for not snickering at that, but that just means that she was left a good deal of money in her late husband's will.


If you would like to read along, the text can be found at Project Gutenberg, and high-res copies of the Thompson illustrations can be found in the British Library's Flickr stream. No reading ahead, though!

Sense and Sensibility, Volume the First, Chapters One to Three

In which we are introduced to the members of the Dashwood family, and difficulties with early 19-century British inheritance laws causes problems for the side of the family we like, and in which our narrator won't even pretend to do British accents, don't worry.



Hey, we're back! New book and everything! Spring is finally here after what turned out to be just a terrible March, and we're going to get well and truly rolling again here. Again.

As far as I can tell, there are no "original" illustrations for Sense and Sensibility, as in ones that went with the first printing in 1811. It seems though, that (much like the N. C. Wyeth illustrations from Treasure Island) ones from a later edition have come to be the best known. In this case they are these line drawings by Hugh Thompson from an 1896 edition. Perhaps more importantly, these are the illustrations that were posted in the British Library's astounding public domain Flickr account, so they're the ones I'll be using.

3:48 - His son's son, a child of four years old.

17:40 - "I cannot imagine how they will spend half of it."

Only a couple of quick notes: around 23:00, we hear of the delightful Mrs. John Dashwood's wish that her brother, Edward Ferrars, would be the sort of man who drove a barouche. Not to be confused with the landaus and broughams we met in "A Scandal in Bohemia," a barouche is a four-wheeled carriage with a retractable hood, where the driver sits up front driving two horses, and there is room inside for two couples facing each other. It was obviously very fashionable during the nineteenth century.

At 26:45, we learn of Marianne's admiration for William Cowper, an eighteenth-century poet whose work, often about landscapes and various melancholy stuff, is considered one of the forerunners of Romaticism. Austen loved him, and this is not the last we'll hear about him. He is not to be confused with the anatomist William Cowper, best known for describing what's now known as the Cowper's gland, which is the only thing I can think of when the poet is mentioned.


If you would like to read along, the text can be found at Project Gutenberg, and high-res copies of the Thompson illustrations can be found in the British Library's Flickr stream. No reading ahead, though!