We are two part-time academics. Ellen teaches in the English department and Jim in the IT program at George Mason University.
Dear Tom,
Thank you very much for your reply on the different texts in modern editions of Austen’s novels. If you would be so kind, I would be so grateful if you could send me copies of the TLS correspondence showing Janet Todd’s replies to the strictures and complaints about the new Cambridge editions. I hope this is not troublesome to you.
The question to ask (as I understand it) before returning to the first editions of Austen’s texts is, Are the differences between the original published texts and Chapman’s edited versions so frequent and pervasive to leave a different impression and change the meaning of the text significantly. While I admire Kathryn Sutherland’s Jane Austen’s Textual Lives and her editions of the early biographies and essay on the creation and history of the perceived story of Austen’s life enormously, I know that some of Sutherland’s arguments in JA’s Textual Lives depended on overreading of manuscripts. Has she overstated the case for viewing Chapman’s texts as misrepresenting Austen? When I look at Janet Todd’s reply I’ll look to see if she makes the argument Sutherland is exaggerating the differences.
On the face of it, we want the author’s intentions and not someone’s improvements, but Austen died young, too young to have second thoughts. We also don’t know what the printers in-house did to her manuscripts—we can’t as they don’t survive for the 6 famous books. I’ve seen where scholars produce an unreal text by going back to the author’s manuscripts or a first edition. In the case of Walter Scott, the very first editions of his novels were changed and corrected from his manuscripts by him; the later editions were changed yet further and it was he who enriched them by adding prefaces, appendices, and corrected. The latest Edinburgh editions actually go back to manuscript texts that have never been published as they appear; the editors leave off all Scott’s prefaces, appendices, and the other paraphernalia and paratexts Scott added over the years. In my opinion (not a Scott scholar but a reader of Scott), the reprints of these Edinburgh new texts are maimed and much diminished: to read say Kenilworth in the Everyman is to read a text embedded in paratexts, and it grows so much richer. It’s true some of Scott’s later explanations are fabrications (hard word but there it is), but why did he fabricate what he did? The editors of a Scott text should include the fabrication and in their introduction explain the discrepancies between what really happened when he published a book or wrote it as far as we know about it, and explain why he lied as far as they can. The Edinburgh editors have acknowledged that readers want these paratexts by having them separately published as two volumes at the end of the whole set. That’s no good, and it’s expensive. Who wants to read a book that has been (in effect) divided up and you have to buy in in different books. I suppose this procedure might force libraries to buy more books :), or the whole set (prohibitively expensive for common readers, but individually now reprinted in select cases by Oxford and Penguin paperbacks). Perhaps Scott’s never before published original manuscripts are of enormous interest to scholars but as geologizers, and not to readers seeking to enjoy Scott’s full creative intentions.
When Chapman sat down during and after (in the 1920s) his traumatic experiences in World War One, did he really simply edit Austen’s texts scrupulously, carefully, and change the meaning very little? It’s commonplace to correct grammar, spelling and other mistakes—usually nowadays it’s a case of typos too. Or did he make a wholesale correction wrongly? Are the first texts of Austen’s books sufficiently different from Chapman’s early 20th century editions to liken the difference to that between Richardson’s first edition of Pamela (a delightfully prosaic demotic style which projects a servant girl) and his last (the text is turned into something stilted and euphemistic)?
All that said, perhaps the Cambridge people simply skipped a step. It’s a time-consuming arduous business collating editions even when there are only a few. So the perhaps Big People relied on their prestige and our desire to read their Important Interpretations and choice of appendices and didn’t collate texts, only corrected the second editions of Austen by the first or vice versa.
The way to tell of course is compare a text which is Chapman’s with a text reprinting the unChapmaned Austen. So I have now ordered the recent new Penguin of Mansfield Park by Kathryn Sutherland because the “search this book” function tells me that the table of contents includes a couple of page note on the text and an argument about the first text in the edition introduced by Tanner. Is that enough? Which new Penguins do you have and do you recommend any?
I’ll conclude by saying I have different favorite editions of a particular text of Austen’s as I do for Trollope—for his novels the 1970s editions of the Penguins are unbeatable, superb. In her case though I can’t say that any particular editions by a publisher in a particular era are generally the best. It seems to me each edition is so influenced by the particular editor, and if one person is chosen to write all the introductions (as in the case of a Signet set where Margaret Drabble did), no matter how brilliant the critic, she can’t really sustain herself as the best across all the novels. It’s so individual: Marilyn Butler’s 1995 Penguin edition of NA is superb: wonderful reproduced illustrations of abbeys around Bath, introduction on consumerism, really informed notes about gothic novels, mostly Radcliffe, Austen is parodying. Patricia Meyer Spacks’s afterward in a Bantam of Sense and Sensibility (the same cover may be found on Diana Birchall’s Mrs Darcy’s Dilemma) is just about the best essay on S&S I’ve ever read. I’ve come across just great Broadview editions of a novel, everything in it you’d want (June Sturrock’s Mansfield Park, with contemporary documents on slavery, colonialism), and others embarrassingly thin, where the stuff chosen is for a narrow agenda associated with the editor’s and his or her friends. Ditto for Longmans and Nortons.
In general what matters is 1) the text (in Trollope these differ importantly); 2) the introduction, notes and appendices, and 3) the cover. For me Tom the cover also counts. A cover illustration which misrepresents the content, debases or pornifies it, is enough to make me refuse to buy a book. The latter are to me books set up in basic bad faith: I find disgraceful the Norton Mansfield Park where Claudia Johnson puts a portrait said to be of Austen (sexy, coy, unreal) which has repeatedly been shown not be her. My favorite editions are ones which use the picturesque as part of the cover (as in this Norton for Persuasion, a well-known contemporary print landscape of Bath), either in the image itself or some decoration around, or substituting for, an image (e.g., an effective suggestive bird cage).
Here is one of my favorite older Norton cover images for Pride and Prejudice, a very early 19th century Malvern Hall (by Turner) suggesting Pemberley:
I love this one too, a very appropriate image (I don’t know the name, author, provenance) for an older Signet edition of Mansfield Park (introduction by Margaret Drabble). Particularly effective and right is the inclusion of the small walking figures:
In the comments the reader will see mentioned the cover illustration for the Broadview Press edition of Mansfield Park. Here this is:
Ellen
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Posted by: Ellen
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