Sense and Sensibility, Volume the Second, Chapter Fourteen

In which we meet the incredibly charming — and puppyish — Robert Ferrars, and the Misses Steele are again shown unaccountable preference by Edward's family in order to snub the Misses Dashwood.



Now seriously, come on, how much do you just LOVE Mr. Robert Ferrars, he of the toothpick case? I just delight in a good snob.

Two quick notes before the single illustration: at 7:54, we hear that the compliments offered to Marianne by Miss Steele following a close scrutiny of everything her appearance were intended as a "douceur." This is another word for some kind of inducement or incentive, or sometimes a bribe. Literally, it means "sweetener," and is related to words like dulce and dulcet. Importantly, the "c" is pronounced as an "s," not as "sh."

Then, at 9:07, we hear that the musicians are playing a violoncello, which is the full name of what we now usually refer to as a cello.

Shortly thereafter, we meet Robert Ferrars in an illustration that is actually the frontispiece to this edition, but obviously makes much more sense for me to show here:

9:37 - Mr. Dashwood introduced him.

Last, at 12:25, Robert is bloviating about how his friend showed him "three plans of Bonomi's," which he promptly threw in the fire. This refers to Joseph Bonomi the Elder (1739-1808), an Italian architect who took up residence in London and was rather fashionable there around the time this story is taking place.

And that's the end of Volume the Second! Next time, we'll get started on the third and final volume.


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 Second, Chapters Twelve and Thirteen

In which there are awkward gatherings, first involving Mrs. Ferrars who snubs Elinor and favors Lucy, not knowing the latter's engagement to her son, and then involving Lucy, Elinor, and Edward, with Marianne obliviousing all over it.



Oh, these two chapters are just so wonderfully awkward. I had the Three's Company theme stuck in my head as soon as Edward entered AND NOW YOU WILL TOO.

7:10 - Mrs. Ferrars.

One minor note: the screens mentioned at 11:15 that Elinor painted and that are so casually dismissed by Mrs. Ferrars being a mean old biddy are fire screens, intended to be placed between a person and the fireplace to protect them from uncomfortable direct heat, though not to prevent their wax makeup from melting, which is apparently a myth some people believe. I love it how sometimes when researching these things I learn the debunkings before I learn what the myths are in the first place.

26:36 - Drawing him a little aside.

Oh, Edward. You're such a putz.


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 Second, Chapters Ten and Eleven

In which everyone is outraged about Willoughby, the Misses Steele return and continue basically unpleasant, and John Dashwood returns, convinced that everyone should bestow money upon his sisters, other than himself of course.



After the sadly illustrationless last installment  — SPUNGING HOUSE OR NOTHING — we've got rather an embarrassment of riches this time around with four (two of which illustrate something someone was talking about, but which wasn't actually seen in the text itself, but I suppose you can only illustrate people talking to each other in a parlor so many times).

6:56 - Offered him one of Folly's puppies.

Here, Sir John was bemoaning how he had been taken in by Willoughby to the point of offering him one of his dog's puppies, little knowing that Willoughby was the real father.

12:17 - A very smart beau.

And here of course we see the Misses Steele (Miss Steeles?) and the "smart beau" that brought them into town. Right now, he's trying not to look at Lucy's muff.

19:29 - Introduction to Mrs. Jennings.

And this illustration is followed oddly closely by the next one, as they refer to events only separated by a sentence or two. I guess Mr. John Dashwood paying respects to Mrs. Jennings is so stirring we needed to see it twice in quick succession?

19:47 - Mrs. Jennings assured him directly that she should not stand upon ceremony.

And then of course there are a couple of notes: at 18:01, Mr. Dashwood states that he took his son to see the beasts at the Exeter Exchange, a building on the north side of the Strand in London where there was a menagerie from 1773-1829.

More importantly, around 16:43 we heard the absolutely delightful term "puppyism." According to Merriam-Webster, who apparently didn't dig too deeply in researching this definition, it means only "the quality or state of being a puppy," which... seems like a term that might not be needed very often? More to the point, though, is The Free Dictionary, offering the definition as "extreme meanness, affectation, conceit, or impudence," which seems to more accurately describe our toothpick-case nit-picker. They even quote this very passage as an example! Along with a separate passage from Emma. I guess Austen liked this word. I do have to wonder, though, what in the world the etymology is here. I mean, is it really supposed to compare the person to a puppy? Were... were puppies in 1811 viewed as being mean, affected, conceited, and impudent? Is this why Sir John was giving away Folly's puppies? OH GOD IT ALL MAKES SENSE.


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 Second, Chapter Nine

In which much is revealed by Colonel Eeyore, chiefly pertaining to his personal history, and we discover the enormity of Willoughby's perfidy; and in which the narrator insists that yes, he's using those words correctly.



Wow, well THAT was a shocker of a chapter, wasn't it? With the forced marriages, the infidelity, the multiple illegitimate children, the wasting death, etcetera? Dang, no wonder Colonel Brandon's so Droopy-Dog all the time.

Some short notes: at 13:43, Colonel Brandon says that he randomly found his lost love in a "spunging house," spelled more modernly as "sponging house." It wasn't exactly debtor's prison, but it wasn't exactly not debtor's prison either. Basically, it was a debtor's last chance to pay up -- squeezed out like a sponge, get it? -- while being confined to the house of, usually, so government official who took a cut. A charming place, by the sound of it.

Next, at 21:51, the good Colonel states that, after finding out what had occurred between him and Brandon's ward, he met Willoughby by appointment. As might be inferred from the text, he means that they met for a duel, at which they are both apparently terrible as no one is even wounded. BORING.

Sadly, no illustrations for this turning-point chapter, of the spunging house or otherwise, so here's another fun cover. For... certain values of "fun."

I mean, my but this is a cheerless cover. It's from a 2001 edition published by Broadview Press, an independent academic publisher, that actually sounds kinda cool and included some neat-sounding stuff in this edition (well, neat-sounding to people like me, I guess.) It's just... I mean, kudos for standing out from the seething crowd of other covers featuring two young women in pretty, vaguely-Regency-era-if-you-don't-know-much-about-fashion-history-which-I-don't-so-maybe-it-is-actually-accurate dresses, but it sure makes this book look somber. Jane Austen does tackle some heavy themes, and does some incredibly trenchant social satire, but her books are really anything but dour, especially this one. I guess maybe they don't want anything intended for an academic setting to look too... well, fun.

Aesthetics aside, I wonder about the image's source. It's not listed on the website that I saw, but it certainly appears to be a vintage 1800s photograph of some kind. Now, it obviously can't be from the time Austen was writing as that predated photography, but it's always possible they were in period costume (you know, 1870's ladies dressed in 1811's clothes, or something.) Maybe someone who actually knows something about fashion history can enlighten me: is this even remotely the right time period for the story?

These are the sorts of things that intrigue and bother me.


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 Second, Chapters Seven and Eight

In which a scum-filled letter is received from Willoughby, Marianne reveals that she was maybe not quite as engaged as all that, Mrs. Jennings is well-intentioned, and pretty much everyone is sad.



Another short entry, with but one illustration and a couple of quick notes: at 28:33, when Mrs. Jennings is tactfully going on about how wonderful Colonel Brandon's property is and how happy Marianne will be there when she of course marries him now that she's no longer tangled up with Willoughby, she mentions its dovecote (a shelter for doves) and stewponds (fish ponds, hilariously).

30:12 - "How fond he was of it!"

I love how they worked in an illustration that's basically a flashback to how Mrs. Jennings's late husband used to like to get drunk, using his gout as an excuse. Cheers!


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 Second, Chapters Five and Six

In which Colonel Brandon's slight hopes regarding Marianne are dashed by Elinor, and Marianne's great hopes regarding Willoughby are dashed by Willoughby.



Somewhat short entry tonight, as the upcoming chapter would have pushed this recording to upwards of 40 minutes, which is a bit much. We do have one illustration, though!

15:52 - At that moment she first perceived him.

And one short note: at 19:44, they use hartshorn to restore Marianne a little to herself. Hartshorn was just a type of smelling salt, which uses the rather noxious scent of ammonia to awaken someone, usually after a fainting spell.


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 Second, Chapters Three and Four

In which Elinor reluctantly and Marianne enthusiastically accept an invitation from Mrs. Jennings to London, where Marianne is disappointed by Willoughby's failure to suddenly appear.



Not much for this installment, I'm afraid. No notes, and no illustrations either. Because of that, I'll resurrect my Anne of Green Gables practice of showcasing covers of different editions!

This edition, published in 1884 by George Routledge and Sons appears to be portraying the first meeting between Marianne and Willoughby, where he helps her home after twisting her ankle. I will note, with pedantic superiority and disappointment, that it does not seem to be raining and is as such not properly true to the text.

I will also note that this edition apparently sold for sixpence. Going back to the conversion methods I used back in Around the World in Eighty Days, and taking into account that pre-decimalisation* there were 240 pence to the pound, this would have cost two American cents in 1884, or about $0.51 today. Which... is actually still a really good deal. You can't even find paperbacks in most used bookstores for that, anymore.


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!


*Because that's the British spelling, that's why.

Sense and Sensibility, Volume the Second, Chapters One and Two

In which Elinor hides her feelings, excuses for Edward are made, and a subtext-laden conversation is had with Lucy.



And we're off on the second volume! Another short one this week with no notes, so right on to the sole illustration:

18:07 - "I can answer for it," said Mrs. Jennings.

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!