Sense and Sensibility, Volume the Third, Chapters Thirteen and Fourteen

In which Elinor and Edward are happy, the conduct of Lucy and Robert is explained, the Ferrars are all reconciled, Marianne gives in to the inevitable and falls for Colonel Brandon, and all live happily ever after.



Sorry this is going up a day late! I had the recording ready to go yesterday and the post half-finished, but then I decided to go out to the movies all day with my wife, and I stand by that decision.

And, at last, we find our two heroines settled and happy, with Edward honorably released from his engagement to Lucy, and Marianne getting everyone to shut up about Colonel Brandon but just marrying him already (although, all right, they gave it a couple of years for her to actually fall for him.)

Two quick notes in this last installment, both while talking about Elinor and Edward's new house in Delaford: at 26:50, while talking about improvements they will be making, we hear that they plan on "invent[ing] a sweep," where a "sweep" is a long, winding driveway. Then, John Dashwood talks about how fine the timber is in Delaford Hanger (presumably with dollar signs -- pound signs? -- in his eyes.) A "hanger" here is a wooded area growing on the side of a steep hill or embankment (hanging on the side of it, you see.)

27:45 - "Everything in such respectable condition."

And, with a note about the extraordinariness of two sisters living so closely by without fighting or setting their husbands against one another, we conclude Sense and Sensibility. Thank you for listening, and stay tuned for the next short story interlude!


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 Third, Chapters Eleven and Twelve

In which everyone insists that no, even with Willoughby's "vindication," there is no way Marianne would have been happy with him; it is revealed that Mr. Ferrars and Lucy Steele are now married, to the great agitation of everyone; and Edward comes to pay another most awkward visit.



Oh no! Mr. Ferrars is married! Well, I'm sure they will be very happy together. I must say, I love how wonderfully awkward pretty much every single scene with Edward is, and I don't identify with it at all.

Shut up.

9:37 - "I suppose you know, ma'am, that Mr. Ferrars is married."

Oh, hmm. Was Thomas supposed to be an older gentleman? Should I have, I don't know, baldened up his voice a little bit, or something? I should take a closer look at these illustrations maybe before recording. Ah, well.

17:43 - It was Edward.

Edward! Why you cut off your horse's tail like that? Don't you know that's their flyswatter? Not very nice. Elinor's better off without you, probably.

(All right, maybe I'm just looking for a way to use the "dismemberment" tag in this book. I suppose that's stretching it a bit, though. Seriously though, Jane, you couldn't have had anyone, like, lose a finger? Or something? Pssh.)


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 Third, Chapters Nine and Ten

In which the Dashwood family is happily reunited and returns to Barton, where Marianne continues to recover her strength and settle her spirits, and is made acquainted with Willoughby's story.



And now we're barreling towards our presumably happy ending (unless Marianne pulls a Beth March on us). Marianne's brush with death has apparently taught her a bit of a lesson, re: her feelings, and indulgence thereof. But no one we like has gotten married yet! I assume that will be taken care of soon. ROMANCE.

No illustrations of the happy Dashwoods together again; no, we'll see "how the children go on," or something:

18:16 - "And see how the children go on."

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 Third, Chapter Eight

In which Willoughby attempts to justify his actions, and... and that's about it, actually.



Aww, don't you feel bad for poor Willoughby now? It's not that he didn't care about Marianne, he just cared about money more! Because he had such a tendency to spend beyond his means!

And look at this, while the tiniest violin in the world plays during this one chapter, Willoughby manages to get three whole illustrations:

2:02 - "I entreat you to stay."

In case anyone thought I simply mispronounced the word "luncheon" at 4:49, I did indeed say "nunchion." That is, in fact, the word that "luncheon" came from in the first place, meaning a light meal in the middle of the day or between larger meals, and coming itself (naturally enough) in part from the word "noon."

13:45 - "I was formally dismissed."

20:21 - "I have entered many a shop to avoid your sight."

When Willoughby says that he encountered Sir John in Drury Lane lobby at 27:44, he's referring to the lobby of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane, a huge and well-known theater of the time. If I'm not mistaken, its concessions were supplied by a mysterious gentleman known only as "the Muffin Man."

And, I must say, I absolutely love the fact that Sir John brings up the issue of the puppy again, so many chapters later.


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 Third, Chapters Six and Seven

In which Elinor and Marianne arrive at the Palmers' residence, where Marianne takes dreadfully ill, everyone is very concerned and Colonel Brandon is dispatched to fetch Mrs. Dashwood; and in which there is a shocking twist!



Drama! Yes, we've come to the part that fans of the book have most likely been waiting for, where everything actually comes to a head, and we see that, while an excess of sensibility (here defined as feeling and expressing all emotions most intensely) can be dangerous, an excess of calmness and tranquility (or "sense") can sometimes lead to inaction when action may very much be needed. I wonder if any sort of lesson will be learned by either or both of the sisters?

Oh, crap. I have to use the "tedious moralizing" tag on myself, now.

4:46 - Showing her child to the housekeeper.

5:49 - The gardener's lamentations.

The only note I've got is at 15:07, where we hear about another card game. Mrs. Jennings insists that Colonel Brandon stay during Marianne's illness in order to keep her company while Elinor was sitting with Marianne, and "play at piquet of an evening," a pretense Mrs. Jennings thought necessary as to not separate Colonel Sad-eyes from Elinor, and which he was more than willing to accept so as not to be separated from Marianne. Well, piquet (in which the "t" is pronounced, because what are we, French?) is a trick-taking card game, like whist is (y'all remember whist, right?), but for only two players. It seems a bit complicated, involving a 32-card deck that had the 2-6 cards of each suit removed. Each player gets 12 cards, but then gets a chance to exchange up to five of them with cards from the remaining eight cards of the deck. Once both have exchanged, one declares what points they can make with their hand (like, "Point of four," meaning four of one suit). The other one then sees if they can beat it, and points are scored accordingly. You apparently want to do this without revealing too much of the specifics of what you actually have in your hand. Once this "declaration" phase is over and scored, they move into "play," which is fairly standard trick-taking: one lays down a card, the other lays down a card of the same suit. Whoever lays down the higher card wins the trick and scores. There are other ways to score as well, involving who does what first and who's dealing and such. Ultimately, whoever makes it to 100 points first wins.

Anyway, piquet was developed in France and was enormously popular there for a long time. It went in and out of fashion among Britain's upper crust for a couple of hundred years, until roughly a century ago when Bridge knocked it down into obscurity. And if you want to play it, there's an app for that. Because of course there is. Free on Android, and... $7.99 on iOS? Dang. You Apple folks are getting shafted in the archaic card game department.

28:55 - Opened a window-shutter.

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 Third, Chapters Four and Five

In which Mrs. Jennings and Elinor continue to play Mr. Roper and Jack Tripper, respectively; Elinor makes the Colonel's offer to Edward in a scene of much awkwardity; and we revisit Mr. John Dashwood and our narrator's favorite, Mr. Robert Ferrars, to hear their reactions to the whole affair.



Yup, rushing around again today, sneaking a recording in a conference room at work. No notes, but two illustrations:

14:33 - Both gained considerable amusement.

 Maybe not a note, but perhaps it should be pointed out in case it wasn't clear: Mrs. Jenning's confusion, whereby she thinks that Edward is to be "the man," is that she thinks Colonel Brandon and Elinor intend to have him be the officiant for their wedding, explaining why they want to wait for him to take orders, and why she thinks it silly for them to put off their marriage for two or three months just to give him a gig. Really, if that were the case, he should just get ordained by the Universal Life Church, like my officiant did. Why, he could've been ready in a matter of minutes!
 

22:58 - "Of one thing I may assure you."

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 Third, Chapters Two and Three

In which communications are heard from both Misses Steele: nosily from the elder -- now apparently named Anne? -- and triumphantly from the younger; and Colonel Brandon offers Elinor a home and living for Edward, which Mrs. Jennings overhears and Three's Companys into an offer of marriage.



In a hurry, sorry! This was recorded in a commandeered conference room at work, and is being written up at a play rehearsal, so I gotta be quick! Two illustrations:

5:30 - "She put the feather in last night."

9:59 - Listening at the door.

And one note: at 11:09, Miss Steele mentions that she feared that Fanny Dashwood would take back the huswifes she had made the Misses Steele, and so "took care to keep [hers] out of sight." Looking it up, a huswife is an obsolete term for, naturally, "housewife." It seems that the term took somewhat of a turn over the centuries, though, to come to mean "a worthless woman," which is of course where we also get the more familiar word "hussy." Now, why Mrs. Dashwood should take to give the Steeles a pair of such women, and how exactly Miss Steele went about hiding hers in front of Mrs. Dashwood, I don't... what? Oh, the third definition, "A small case containing scissors, thread, needles and other sewing things." Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I prefer my version.

UPDATE: Listener Christy has helpfully researched -- i.e., done the seconds of Googling I couldn't be arsed to do -- and cleared up that the name "Nancy" was originally a diminutive of "Anne, " explaining why the elder Miss Steele is referred to by both names. Thanks, Christy!


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 Third, Chapter One

In which the secret engagement of Edward Ferrars and Lucy Steele is revealed to the great consternation of his mother and sister, we see that Mrs. Jennings may be a ridiculous old busybody but she is still a good sort, and Elinor can now finally come clean to Marianne about her feeeeelings, mainly about how she has them.



All right, we've entered the final third of the novel now, and all secret engagements have now been revealed! OR HAVE THEY? They probably have. Only a single chapter, but three illustrations to go with it, and one note: round abouts 2:50, Mrs. Jennings declares that her new grandchild has "the red gum," which a footnote in my edition of the book helpfully explains means "teething rash," a fact that I share in the recording before digressing into wondering how teething would cause pimples, and ending in a Btterfly McQueen impression for some reason. Well, as it turns out I was right to doubt my baby-knowledge, as teething rash is indeed a skin rash caused by skin irritation from excessive drooling due to teething. And now you know!

3:04 - In a whisper.

16:15 - "You have heard, I suppose."

22:24 - Talking over the business.

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 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!

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!