To Trollope-l
July 3, 2000
Re: Last Chronicle of Barset, Chs 7-11: The Whole Cast Now On-Stage
This week's chapters intermingle some strong scenes of acute psychological depiction of the Crawleys at home and in the local tavern where the Reverend is arraigned. I know many will not agree with this one; Trollope seems to me to withhold judgement. I am glad Crawley refused to go into court on his own power. It reminds me of a man who was executed in the state of Texas last week: very unusually, he refused to go into the night gently. He made it difficult for the authorities. An interesting factor in many an execution in the 18th century is that the person to be hanged took on the role of weeping sacrificial scapegoat. It also fit Crawley's character perfectly: one of the reasons he can't fit into society is this inflexibility of his. Why should he hire a lawyer? He is innocent. He is told that society doesn't work according to such uncompromising principles; you go to the wall if you try it. I thought his stillness at the trial, apparent obliviousness to it all well understood. Mrs Crawley suffered more intensely behind her veil. Do others remember that Lady Mason took off her veil and faced them all down (Orley Farm).
We have some further hard moments in the Bishop's palace. Trollope may be softening his presentation of the Archdeacon, not so Mrs Proudie. That she believes someone is an emanation from Satan is why she makes for real evil in the world. Trollope's even-handedness makes him remind us that if the Framley Parsonage people had someone of Mrs Proudie's party accused of thievery, they would behaved in the same biased way. It's not so much that all of them are sure the Rev is innocent, but that he's of their party. Mrs Proudie hates Crawley for further reasons: his poverty, his refusal to submit to her. Trollope has not had her center stage for 2 novels straight; thus she comes out roaring. The Bishop quavers before her. The play upon the word 'soul' and 'convicted' gives the scene intense nervous power. We hear the resounding tones of this woman. They play upon the pulse. I can see why Thumble shakes in his shoes too.
But there are lighter comic notes too. They come in a variety. There's Miss Prettyman. She is actually manipulating Major Grantly. Trollope makes sure we see that. Why let this fish off the hook? I would call this half-serious comedy because the position of Grace is serious. This comedy has the quality of the Grantly comedy because the actors are themselves concerned intently in what is happening.
A humorous variety (meaning the characters are presented as humours characters) is provided by the dinner at Framley Parsonage and the coming of Grace to Allington. The folks at the Parsonage form a chorus. They stand for Everyman on Crawley's side (as Mr Fothergill stands for Everyman against him). Here Trollope does try to awaken our memories of earlier books and rely on that to provide enjoyment. There is a sort of closure in this chapter which shows the book is meant to be a closing book of a sequence. Old early happenings brought back: how young Lady Lufton nursed Mrs Crawley when she was Lucy Robarts; how it was she who is partly responsible for the love attachment of Major Grantly. Comedy is gotten from the Luftons (a fairy godmother and her rich son in FP). Dr Thorne has lost his intense human burden and is moulded shallowly, but his wife, Mrs Thorne (our Miss Dunstable) hasn't changed much. Still the saturnine disillusioned humour, and still recognising the absurdities of life: how is it if we all know he is innocent, he was committed? A good question.
I thought though I would point up something even lighter. Later on Lily will resume some of her old role in a love story, but here she too is chorus. It is she who invites and greets Grace; brings her into a haven. On another list I'm on we have been talking about whether 18th c. women skated. I have been reading Jane Austen's letters and came across a passage where she, her mother, her sister-in-law and a friend accompany her brother on a freezing cold day to a lake to watch him skate. It appears that skating was not done by genteel women in the 18th century -- except in private. It was not acceptable -- like hunting was not quite acceptable even in the mid-19th century. It's true that by the later 19th century Christmas cards and other pictorial records show us upper class genteel or WASP type gentlewomen skating; before the 19th century genteel women did skate in the Scandanavian and Dutch regions. Skating was a practical way to get from one place to another. It was also probably accepted among working class women and done in private in somewhat warmer climates like Great Britain. However, it's very hard to find some documentation. Too bad we don't have inventories from shoemaking (joke alert).
Anyway probably because I was thinking about skating, I noticed a number of jokes when Grace arrives at Allington. The passage itself connects skating to hunting and billiards as a man's activity. Note it is winter. Miss Prettyman and the Dales between them have now contrived to get Grace with decent clothing to Allington. (The passage on the anguish of genteel poverty, the people on the edge shows Trollope speaking from his own experience as a boy: "None but they who have themselves been poor gentry ... can understand the peculiar bitterness ..., Houghton Miffllin Last Chronicle, ed AMizener, Ch9, pp. 74-75). The idea here is not just to bring home to us how Grace's presence threatens the school; how Mrs Crawley can't feed her, but that if gotten away to near the Grantlys, she just may ensnare Archdeacon Grantly's son from afar. So we have her in her pretty cloak coming into Allington. Then Lily picks her up at the railway station in a pony carriage (the Squire's -- he having the dough for this) on a frozen day, both 'starved to death'; as the two young women go into the house, Mrs Dale offers hot tea, and Lily remarks:
"'It's all up with Bernard and Mr Green [our old friend Bernard & another gentleman-squires] for the next week at least. It is freezing as hard as it can freeze, and they might as well try to hunt in Lapland as here.'They'll console themselves with skating', said Mrs Dale.
'Have you ever observed, Grace', said Miss Dale, 'how much amusement gentlemen require, and how imperative it is that some other game should be provided when one game fails?'
'Not particularly', said Grace.
[But then Grace is not very observant when it comes to the ironies of life; Lily still is]
'Oh, but it is so' [says Lily]. Now, with women, it is supposed that they can amuse themselves or live without amusement. Once or twice in a year, perhaps something is done for them. There is an arrow-shooting party, or a ball, or a picnic. But the catering for men's sport is never ending, and is always paramount to everything else. And yet the pet game of the day never goes properly off. In partridge time, the partridges are wild, and won't come to be killed. In hunting time the foxes won't run straight, -- the wretches. They show no spirit, and wil take to ground to save their brushes. Then comes a nipping frost, and skating is proclaimed; but the ice is always rough, and the woodcocks have deserted the country. And as for salmon, -- when the summer comes round I do really believe that they suffer a reat deal about the samon. I'm sure they never catch any. So they go back to their clubs and their cards ...
On the other hand, we are told that Mr Green who is other otherwise 'such a duck of a man, -- such top- boots and all the rest of it ...', yet it is 'whispered' that 'he doesn't always ride to the hounds'. And while to watch him play billiards 'is beautiful, he never can make a stroke'. (Trollope is often quietly bawdy.) Thus Lily hopes that Grace plays billiards 'because Uncle Christopher has just had a new table put up'. Grace, who is as virtuous as her father, of course 'never saw a billiard table'. And so it goes.
Here is evidence that in private women may do what men do in public. Well, we knew that, didn't we?
Yet at the same time it is clear from the passage that skating is a man's activity ... Women may shoot arrows: there's a Cupid-Eros link here. They may dance and go on picnics.
A light grace note from the intelligent Lily. I like her for living so quietly herself.
Cheers to all,
Ellen Moody
--- "I wish Mr Trollope would go on writing Framley Parsonage for ever" ----Elizabeth Gaskell
Date: Mon, 3 Jul 2000 08:00
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Last Chronicle of Barset, Chs 7-11: The Whole Cast Now On-
Stage
Like Ellen, I enjoyed Lily in this week's chapters. No pun intended, but she does really seem to have "bloomed" in her spinsterhood-widowhood. Perhaps, after all, being single was more to her independent taste. Also, her lively, faintly rebellious speech patterns seem faintly akin to the lively Glencora, a character that suffers much in adjusting to the confines of married life. I cannot recall (even after several readings of both the Barsetshire and the Palliser series), do these two kindred spirits ever meet? If no, can we speculate as to whether they both owe something to the real women in Trollope's life (Fanny, Rose & Kate)?
Judy Geater's message on the above reminds me that I think that I owe the group some sort of apology. Having talked about Barset, rather than Barsetshire, I started The Last Chronicle to find that Trollope calls the book The Last Chronicle of Barset, but then goes on to use both Barset and Barsetshire in the text more or less indifferently. A quick rush through revealed about six of the first and seven of the second. Trollope clearly didn't know any more than we do!
From Dagny:
Date: Mon, 3 Jul 2000 18:48:17 -0700 (PDT)
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] The Last Chronicle, Ch 7: Miss Prettyman defends Crawley
love the paragraph wherein Miss Prettyman defends Rev. Crawley to Major Grantly. She admirably expressed my own indignation at the thought of anyone even suspecting the Rev. of stealing, actually stealing with mercenary intent, the check. Her final sentence reads: "Whoever heard of anybody becoming so base as that all at once?"
I was not the only one impressed with her defense, Major Grantly was also.
Dagny
Date: Mon, 03 Jul 2000 21:49:55
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Reverend Crawley's dilemma (From Catherine Crean)
Several interesting posts today. It is ironic that Ellen mentions The Way We Live Now in her post about the last chapters we read of The Last Chronicle of Barset. As I have mentioned, I am listening to TWWLN as read by David Case on audiocassette. TWWLN is not one of my favorite books. Trollope's excoriation of the men grubbing for money is amplified by his excoriation of the women grubbing for tickets to Melmotte's party for the Emperor of China. The men in the Beargarden pass around IOU's knowing that in the end nobody is going to pay up. It would not be gentlemanly to press a fellow to repay an IOU. I am oversimplifying here, but this is by way of echoing Ellen's remarks about the power we give to bits of paper.
Trollope is on the high wire when he presents Reverend Crawley's dilemma. That he carries it off is a mark of Trollope's skill as a writer and also the confidence he has in his relationship with the reader. I think that Ellen is correct when she says that Trollope was having a go at showing up Wilkie Collins. (If not showing him up, at least saying "me too!") The manipulations of props and events is almost like a mystery story. What is primary to the story is the Crawleys as a couple. I think to really appreciate the agonies of conscience, the despair, the shame and the self-doubt of Reverend Crawley, we must have his wife in the picture, too. For all the shabbiness in the Crawley home, there is an integrity, a love of learning, and heartfelt loyalty. One of the few possesions the Crawleys have is a set of books. Trollope specifically mentions this. I don't think this mention is an accident.
Earlier today we had some posts about homes where there is a love for books. I am always suspicious of a home where I see no books at all. In my home, my husband has literally hundreds of books on Railroads, including old repair manuals for steam locomotives. Howard has no interest in fiction, but he is a great help explaining the probable route of Melmotte's railroad. I feel sorry that Howard does not share my interest in Trollope, but I certainly don't share his interest in trains. I respect his learning and integrity, even when he seems to have gone round the bend with the railroad stuff. I often wonder what Mrs. Crawley thought when Mr. Crawley was drilling Greek irregular verbs into the children's heads, and they had not enough to eat. This precarious household is pushed over the brink by a slip of paper. Alas, that could be true of almost anybody nowadays! If the economy goes wrong, how will we pay the mortgage? If the main breadwinner loses a job, how does the family cope? Not everyone has the heroic proportions of a Reverend Crawley, or the steadfast love of a Mrs. Crawley. I would like to think that Howard's love of trains is akin to Reverend Crawley's love of Greek irregular verbs. (That is, they both love learning.) Is it worthless to love something rather arcane? I say no, it is not worthless. Is it foolhardy to invest so much time in learning about something that most people don't even know about much less care? Again, I say no. Being practical is not the most important thing in the world, suffer as one may for the consequences.
Well, this post has wandered all over the map. In thinking about my home and the co-existing sets of books (trains and Trollope) I realize that Howard and I aren't so far apart after all. Howard and I share a computer, and he at least glances at the Trollope posts. When it was announced that Ellen was going to give the talk at the Trollope Society AGM, I didn't think it was possible for me to go and hear her talk. Howard said, "Don't you want to see your friends and talk about Mrs. Proudie?" I loved him for that, I just loved him. He knew that there was such a character as Mrs. Proudie.
Catherine Crean
From Rory O'Farrell:
Ellen wrote:
"I like to think that faced with a money machine in a wall, Crawley would walk away, refuse to consort with something so inhuman."
I fully agree with Ellen's assumption about Crawley and a money machine. I have some shares in a major Irish bank, and they keep trying to give me a card for the money machines. I point out to the clerk that she is cutting her own throat - there won't be any need for bank clerks if everybody uses money machines. While one cannot live in the past except in the realms of literature, one can fight a rearguard action for the maintenance of the "old decencies" and for personal contact and involvement. Perhaps this is one of the major attractions of Trollope's works, that they are concerned with the personal interactions between the major participants - they matter as individuals.
Rory O'Farrell
From Angela Richardson:
Date: Mon, 03 Jul 2000 17:54:11 +0100
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Reappearing Characters
Ellen wrote last week that we could be a bit cynical about the reappearing characters. This is the first time I have read the Last Chronicle and I must say, I was a bit taken a back to see so many of them come surging out of the pages. I wondered if the appearance of Lily and the Thornes in this book is part of the authentication that Dr Thorne and The Small House are really part of the Barsetshire series. You could read those on their own.
However, any passing distraction which these reappearing characters caused - including wondering where Major Grantly had come from - has been put aside as the Crawleys take centre stage. Its very good to know that they are the main theme of this novel, and I look forward to many good reads ahead.
Angela
From Howard Merkin:
I have been suffering with computer problems again for the past week, and haven't been able to get email in or out. I now have a new modem, and have downloaded my last week's mail and ploughed through it.
I had been meaning to post a message about chapter IV of The Last Chronicle, where we are told something of the way that Mr Crawley's £130 a year is spent. Since I retired about eight years ago, I have acted as a volunteer adviser at the Citizens Advice Bureau. For non-UK residents, this is an organisation where people who have difficulty in coping with the problems of modern life can get advice and. If they want it, guidance.. Along with everything else, we deal with problems about state benefits, and with debt. Using our standard technique for assessing a client's debt position, it is clear that Mr Crawley's income falls far short of his actual expenditure, since the items that we are told have to come out of the remaining £15, including 'tea, sugar, beer, wages, education and the like' must have come to a great deal more than that. Evidently Dean Arabin's occasional £50 can only have staved off the pressure for a short time, and the level of the family's debts was likely to continue to rise.
The first point that occurred to me on reading the list of expenditure was the relatively high amount spent on meat. For this to take up 30% of the family income seems excessive. There were only four of them at home, the two parents, Jane, and presumably the servant, who would have been fed. How did they manage to get through three pounds of meat a day? Nowadays, we tend to tell people in debt that they need to cut down on the consumption of alcohol and cigarettes. I think that I should have advised the Crawleys to cut down a bit on meat. I also think that a little of the Arabin money might have been directed towards doing something about the furniture. A local handyman could have carried out a few repairs and put up some shelves for the books very cheaply. This would have helped Mr Crawley to recover some of his self-respect.
The principle point that I would make, however, is the fact that the major part of the creditors' troubles arose from their own actions. Why did they continue to give credit to someone who clearly was having difficulty in paying their old debts? If they had insisted on cash from the start, the Crawleys would have had to budget their expenditure more carefully. This is exactly the same as occurs today, when banks and credit card companies are only too anxious to give large amounts of credit to people who will be unable pay them. It is not unusual to find people on benefits of, say, £52.20 per week owing amounts of £5,000 or even £10,000. They have two or three credit cards, overdrawn bank accounts and a variety of mail order and store accounts. Since the basic benefit is set at subsistence level for a single person, they clearly do not have scope for the sort of expenditure that must have occasioned such debts. But even after we have persuaded them to cut up their credit cards, they continue to receive further offers of cards, sometimes from the same organisations that are pursuing them for payment
You will see that I am agreeing with Ellen and Rory that the wholesale giving of credit causes a great deal of the problems that people who are on low income have. I do not agree that the institution of credit is in itself a bad thing, since it forms the basis on which most of the wealth of our modern society is based. I do think, however, that the way in which it is granted needs much more careful consideration.
Regards, Howard
From Rory O'Farrell:
We should remember that at this time, Trollope suggested an income of £800/900 was adequate for a middle-class family in comfortable conditions, but not allowing for any extravagance. We can map that to the same standard today, and by taking 1/7th of it, get an idea of Rev Crawley's income in today's circumstances. Howard, would you like to suggest an equivalent middle class income today in the UK? Anyone for the USA?
Rory O'Farrell
From Gene Stratton, belatedly, to Howard after Howard complained some of us (meaning me, Ellen) were putting a "shire" into The Last Chronicle of Barset.
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Shires
Howard, it would seem to me that Barchester, Barset is modeled after Dorchester, Dorset in form, and isn't it true that Dorset and Dorsetshire are interchangeable? Also Devon and Devonshire and some others.
Gene Stratton
gwlit@worldnet.att.net
Date: Tue, 4 Jul 2000 15:31:18 -0700
Trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Credit and debt
I, too, would be interested in knowing what list members in England think is a reasonable middle class income today in the UK. A friend in Cornwall not long ago suggested Pounds 25,000, but I recall that a list member in London suggested Pounds 50,000. For the U.S., I would suggest $40,000 to $50,000, which I'm sure is debatable.
Gene Stratton
gwlit@worldnet.att.net
From Rory:
Remember we are talking of a "careful" middle class income, so £25,000-30,000 would be about right, I think. And those figures would scale to $35,000-40,000.
That would suggest Crawley would today be managing on £4000/$5500. Poverty indeed!
It is always difficult to scale from Victorian prices to modern prices, but I hope the above figures give the list a fair idea of how difficult things were for Mr (and Mrs) Crawley.
Rory O'Farrell
From Dagny:
Date: Tue, 4 Jul 2000 15:18:28 -0700 (PDT)
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Credit and debt
Howard, I too thought that 3 pounds of meat seemed excessive for the Crawleys. Or was meat cheaper back then in proportion to potatoes, beans, oatmeal and such? I don't know how the prices compared back then.
And to give us another measuring stick, a few years ago it seems that the poverty level for the U.S. was set at around $7,000 or $7,500.
Dagny
Date: Tue, 4 Jul 2000 14:58:46 -0700 (PDT)
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Last Chronicle of Barset, Chs 7-11
Ellen wrote:
"We have some further hard moments in the Bishop's palace. Trollope may be softening his presentation of the Archdeacon, not so Mrs Proudie."
Yes, Trollope put this forth loud and clear. If anything it seems to me that Mrs. Proudie is portrayed as even more bigotted, judgemental, domineering, etc. than in the prior books. And the Bishop seems even more afraid of her, of arousing her wrath. But I still laugh when I think of her at the party in the book in which we meet her, the second book of the series (I think), and the problem with her dress.
I was surprised to see that archery was one of the very few activities available to British women of that day and age. I don't think I had really thought about skating, but I had assumed they hunted if they desired since I know Lord Lufton wanted to teach Lucy to ride.
Dagny
I wrote to C18-l to ask about the lack of physical activities middle class women were allowed to do:
To C18-l
July 2000
Re: Did 18th and 19th century gentlewomen skate?
Here is another query. I have been reading Jane Austen's letters and have come across a passage where she and the other females of the household at Southampton accompany Frank Austen to a near-by frozen-over pond and watch him ice-skate. I find myself asking, why do none of the women skate with him? It may be one is pregnant (his wife), another too old (his mother), and two just don't feel like it (his sisters, including Jane Austen). But I know women in this period rarely hunted -- or didn't at all. It wasn't approved of as an activity for women. Was there social disapproval of women skating? Or social disapproval of genteel women skating? I discover that working class women do many things which are verboten for their richer well-connected sisters. How about girl children? This morning I can't seem to think of another passage in the literature which readily comes to mind in which women are pictured skating. Perhaps children in books for children, but how accurate are these?
I looked up in a recent book, JA and Leisure and find nothing on it. Can someone recommend a book which would inform me about something as mundance as going skating. The 18th and early 19th century in England is a very cold era; the Thames freezes over, so I would like to know.
Ellen Moody
To: Ellen2@JIMANDELLEN.ORG Dear Ellen,
Since getting on the list lately I've enjoyed your considerations. I've
been working on an essay about women as athletes in the 18th, and have
come up with some facts. Actually I'll be speaking on it at ECASECS in
the fall -- did someone tell me you're a member?? (Faulty memory, perhaps).
John Collett has done a very revealing set of satiric drawings of women
at different sports in the second half of the 18th--that is, they reveal
both that women did all the things men did--boating, cricket, fisticuffs,
and, I think, also iceskating -- but that these activities were to be
satirized and made fun of. In fact women gave public exhibitions of many
sports. My only proof that women skated is a letter written by Lord March
describing a stay at Althorp with the Spencers, where everyone, including
Charles Fox, if I remember, went skating. I think the operative condition
here is the privacy. Incidentally, the Althorp hunt, which was famous,
included women, and Lady Spencer was an enthusiastic hunter. I have a lot
of Collett reproductions but not the iceskating one, and if it exists,
the BL can tell you. (I do have the hunting one.)
I would love to give you the precise reference for the Althorp skating
party, and can, given a little time, but it is buried in a 1000 page
manuscript. If you want it, I can find it by looking up the proper
chapter. But it occurred in 1767, which may be too early for you. Let me
know.
Would there be a website for looking up the drawings at the BL???? I'm
constantly amazed by what is available on the web.
Please don't acknowledge this dubious contribution on the list. I am
embarrassed by my constant intervention, but the fact is that research
was always my primary pleasure, and I have had a lot of information which
often now is hard to access precisely. And an uncontrollable urge to
impart. Best, Betty Rizzo
To: Ellen2@JIMANDELLEN.ORG Dear Ellen,
I just glanced up at a favorite postcard, a detail of Sir Henry Raeburn's
Skating on Duddington Loch -- one delightful male skater, but there must be
a lot more. Worth checking to see if there are any women skaters.
Raeburn's dates: 1756-1823. The lone skater is a clergyman in gaiters.
Best, Betty Rizzo
Sender: 18th Century Interdisciplinary Discussion From: Frank Felsenstein A good source for this (as indeed for so many other eighteenth-century
subjects) is Mary Dorothy George and F.G. Stephens, "Catalogue of Political
and Personal Satires...in the British Museum", 11 vols., 1870-1954. The
later volumes, that were edited by Dorothy George contain a subject index
that includes "Skating". A superficial glance at vol. VII (covering the
years 1793-1800) shows several skating prints, most of which are of male
skaters. I don't have the other volumes to hand, but I'd be surprised if
there were no women skaters. An invaluable companion to the catalogue, for
those far away from the B.M. Department of Prints and Drawings, is a
microfilm issued some years back by Chadwyck-Healey.
With best wishes, Off list to Betty Rizzo:
Dear Betty,
How kind of you to answer me off-list this way. I wouldn't want to
put you to the trouble of looking into a large manuscript for me.
What you say about women participating in athletics but because
they risked ridicule most would only do so in private parties makes
sense to me. Skating then links up to writing: that too women
tried to keep private. I was reading James Edward Austen-Leigh's
memoir about hunting in the Hampshire region at the turn of
the 18th century and he never mentioned a woman. But then
he is so proper. Trollope mentions women as usually being
part of hunts by the mid-19th century, but he registers a sense
that they are unusual. Also the women who hunted are presented
as aggressive, and the hunting and riding itself attached to
sexuality. A good horsewomen will be aggressive and sexy:
Mary Crawford fits this bill, except she doesn't hunt. I can think
of women in satiric prints getting involved in fights (Rowlandson)
but that's about it. Althorp is part of the area I'm interested
in.
My interest here is putting another piece in a large puzzle of
Jane Austen's character. I was wondering if she didn't skate
because it wasn't socially acceptable or because she
didn't want to. But then why go out on such a cold morning,
walk such a long way, and watch someone else? I suppose
I must conclude that here again is an instance of her
conforming to a stereotype in her outward behavior.
Like you though I just have a hard time believing 18th century
women didn't skate. But perhaps they didn't. There's the skirt
blowing up high and the lack of underwear. Does that
sound silly? And there are Christmas cards in the US
with women skating in the later 19th century and modesty
was a controlling standard then too. It is just so
hard to get at these sorts of behaviors. People just don't
discuss them. If only the camera had been invented earlier ... :)
After all a man can choose whom he will sketch.
I hope your talk will appear in one of the publications I
get from ECS.
I am one of those who are guilty of saying too much on
lists. It is to me inspiriting to talk to others about my
interests, to listen to what others have to say, and
contribute. I belong to ECASECS, but have not yet
gone to any meeting. I have been trying to control my
participation on lists of late so that I can work on my
book and other projects so that's why I took so long to
get back to you. I simply shut down Eudora in the
mid-morning and don't bring it up again until late
at night. I should say that C18-l is one of the best
lists I know of on the Internet. Occasionally there
are quarrels, but most of the time the sharing of
information is genuine, helpful, and collegial.
Cheers, On List to C18-l:
This is to thank Frank Felsenstein. From the prints
you describe it seems as if in the 18th century it was
not as socially acceptable for women to skate as it
was for men. Thus men would be drawn skating
and not women. Too bad we don't have records of
inventories of shoemakers from the 18th century (feeble
joke alert). We could look to see if shoemakers
regularly made skates in smaller or women's sizes.
If they did, we could conclude women skated, even
if women did it only when in private parties.
Women were certainly skating openly and in public
by the later 19th century. Think of later 19th
century Christmas postcards with genteel women
on skates with muffs in their hands. Or do these
come from the early 20th century?
To this later 20th century person it just seemed
so unfair that the Austen women should go on a
long walk on a very cold morning to watch someone
else skate. They should skate too.
Ellen Moody
From: Francis F Steen Dear Ellen,
I don't have a copy myself, but I recall some of Brueghel's paintings of
winter scenes with skaters -- this would of course have been much earlier,
and in Holland, so it didn't seem appropriate to the list, but you might
find it of interest. I'm also thinking of the "little ice age" -- I don't
have the precise dates, but as you probably recall, the Thames was
regularly frozen during the winters of the 1680s and I believe there are
prints of all the activities on the ice -- unfortunately I haven't seen
any, and would be very interested to hear if you come across one. Winters
nowadays in the south of England rarely have enough cold weather even to
freeze the ponds; was this different in Austin's time? I'm guessing women
were more likely to skate if there were more opportunities, or perhaps if
it had practical value, as it might in the Lake District. Wordsworth
speaks of skating in the Prelude -- a beautiful passage (the 1797 version
below), yet not helpful for your purposes!
Best wishes, Not seldom from the uproar I retired Dear Francis,
Thank you for those beautiful lines. I shall go look at the
Brueghel, but, as you say, it's Dutch, much earlier in time,
and peasants to boot. Another source would be Gay's Trivia.
I wonder if Cowper goes skating? I doubt it. He just sits
in front of the fire with his tea and newspaper and dreams.
Ellen
To: Ellen2@JimandEllen.org Dear Ellen,
Thanks for your interesting reply. I should add, since you're interested
in Althorp, that I've been through the Spencer papers in the BL and
learned a lot about Lady Spencer. She's interesting because she did as
she liked, though she kept many of her avocations secret, studying Greek
and Latin early in the morning with her local clergyman, for instance,
and walking out later to visit her almshouses very publicly! But she had
all the money she needed and all the station, and was very lucky in her
husband, who had been prohibited by his grandmother the Duchess of
Marlborough from ever taking public office and who was a bit of a
valitudinarian as well, so they were pretty nigh equal. She was obviously
an athlete, skating, riding, hunting, fishing (again, in private at home
in her own pools and rivers) and walking madly for miles.
You didn't respond to my second note about the Raeburn painting, so
perhaps you didn't receive it. I could without much trouble access the
reference to the Althorp skating party, if it's where I think I used it.
And, finally, the prints mentioned by Frank F. sound very intriguing to
me--could you possibly share the references (as I'm still working on my
project). If only the prints under skating in the index of the BL
catalogue, I've seen that, so don't bother--and as I recollect, that is
what he mentioned.
Finally, I would say you are right: if Austen skated at all, she wouldn't
mention it!
Best, Betty R.
It would be great if you came to ECASECS--Linda Merians has said she'd
love to meet you, and I would too.
Dear Betty,
Yes I just reached your second post. I have Amanda Foreman's Duchess
of Devonshire which I mean to read (as I do so many books -- I am
grinning). The problem with these half-popular books is they always
dwell on sex. I glanced at this one and it does too. Someone recently
told me about a book called _A History of Walking_; it's by Rebecca
Solnit and said to contain a section on Austen. I have bought an
inexpensive copy on the Net, and am waiting for it. Austen walked,
frequently and for long ways. Ordinary people did before the railway.
I have only one reference. In Austen's letter to Cassandra (so of
course she was not of the party) dated 7-8 January 1807, she
describes how 'we' re going to see Frank skate 'which he
hopes to do in the meadows by the beach', and then 'we
are to treat ourselves with a passage over the ferry' (Le
Faye, p. 117). Although it's not althetics, she describes
very long walks in the few letters we have extant by her
from Bath. Yes, if it is really not too much trouble, I would
like the reference in the letter. I am trying to think of what
kind of an individual Austen was in life. Her novels omit so
much of ordinary life, and most of her letters to Cassandra
were destroyed and those left to us bowdlerised that
this is no easy task.
It is very good of you to urge me to come to these meetings.
I do think of it.
Ellen
Hi Ellen Moody,
An ajacent query would be whether 18C women skated in the "most skating" of
all european countries: Holland. I.e. When it became accepted? Since
Holland was the first modern nation, perhaps it also lead the way in this
regard. Again, paintings and prints would answer the question.
Bruce M.
Dear Bruce,
Yes someone off-list suggested Holland: after all skating
there would be a practical way of getting from one place
to another too.
Cheers, To: Ellen2@JimandEllen.org Dear Ellen,
I resorted to my Spencer file and found what I was looking for. It's not
as definite that the ladies skated as I remember. The letter is actually
published, but first, in Historical Manuscripts Commission vol 42, the
letters of Lord Carlisle,
p. 227: on Jan. 5, 1768 George Selwyn informs Carlisle that March is
still at Lord Spencer's "where he amuses himself, as he tells me,
excessively." p. 229: on Jan. 15, he tells Carlisle that March was
leaving Althorp that day. This is a necessary comment, for in the
relevant passage about skating, it isn't said where March is!
Jesse's volumes on Selwyn (don't have the precise title here), 2:213-4
(31 Dec. 1767) "We are now all going to the ice, which is quite like a
fair. There is a tent, with strong beer, cold meat, &c., where Lady
Spencer and our other ladies go an airing. Lord Villiers left us this
morning. Adieu, my dear George! I am in haste to go to the great
rendezvous upon the canal."
So, they are all going to the ice, but it isn't clear if they all skated.
I do believe Lady S. would have.
I have notes from the Althorp Chase Books. Every Christmas their friends
assembled to foxhunt. P. 134 of book: members included Lord and Lady
Jersey, Mr. and Mrs. Bouverie, Lord and Lady Pembroke, Lord and Lady
Spencer, Lady Charles Spencer, Lady Clermont, Mrs. Poyntz, Mr. and Mrs.
Garrick, Miss Lloyd, and Miss Shipley. Again, it isn't clear that the
women actually rode, but the Duke of Devonshire was a member, and the
duchess (the Spencer's daughter) was not. There were other male members
whose wives weren't listed. Actually, the Chase Book, which gave details
of each hunt, might well mention the feats of women riders. I didn't at
the time look for that.
I'm into this subject and don't mean to bore you. I have a hunch the
Raeburn painting is what would help, and it must be about the right date
for Austen.
To C18-l
July 3, 2000
Re: They'll console themselves with skating (Was 'Did women skate? ...)
I have had a large number of such generous replies on this topic
whose leads I mean to go into that I want to reciprocate by
amusing. It would seem from the replies off-list that before
the later 19th century when postcards and such like show
us upper class genteel or WASP type gentlewomen
skating, women did skate in the Scandanavian and Dutch
regions. Skating was a practical way to get from one place to
another. It was also probably accepted among working
class women and done in private in somewhat warmer
climates like Great Britain. However, it's very hard to find
some documentation. As I remarked late the other night,
shoemakers didn't preserve their inventories for us.
However, I have come across a passage in The Last
Chronicle of Barset (I carry on reading Trollope) which is
directly relevant to Jane Austen. It connects skating to
hunting and billiards as a man's activity for English gentry.
It is winter and poor Rev Crawley has been accused of
stealing £20. All good people (including the reader) know
this man of adamantine integrity could not possibly have
done such a thing. Nonetheless, he is arraigned and
must stand trial in April; in the meantime his daughter,
Grace, can no longer teach at a respectable school, for her
presence threatens their respectability; alas, it costs her
mother, Mrs Crawley, to to feed her and she just may
ensnare Archdeacon Grantly's son from afar (no one admits
this motive openly) if she goes to live with Lily Dale and her
mother. All contrive to manage this. Then Lily picks Grace
up at the railway station in a pony carriage (the Squire's -- he
having the dough for this) on a frozen day, both 'starved to death';
as the two young women go into the house, Lily remarks:
'They'll console themselves with skating', said Mrs
Dale.
'Have you ever observed, Grace', said Miss Dale,
'how much amusement gentlemen require, and how
imperative it is that some other game should be provided
when one game fails?'
'Not particularly', said Grace. [But then Grace is not very observant.]
On the other hand, we are told that Mr Green who is
other otherwise 'such a duck of a man, -- such top-
boots and all the rest of it ...', yet it is 'whispered'
that 'he doesn't always ride to the hounds'. And
while to watch him play billiards 'is beautiful, he
never can make a stroke'. Trollope is often
quietly bawdy. Take it from me. Thus Lily hopes
that Grace plays billiards 'because Uncle
Christopher has just had a new table put up'.
Grace, who is as virtuous as her father, of course
'never saw a billiard table'. And so it goes.
Here is evidence that in private women may do what
men do in public. Well, we knew that, didn't we?
Yet at the same time it is clear from the passage
that skating is a man's activity ... Women
may shoot arrows: there's a Cupid-Eros link here.
They may dance and go on picnics. All but the first
we see Austen heroines go in for.
Cheers to all, Subject: Women Skating Dear Ellen --
Not a scholarly enough posting for the list, nor even the longest 18th
century, but a very enlarged detail of the "soaring bird" from Pieter
Bruegel the elder's Hunters in the Snow (1565 -- Oil on panel, 117 x 162 cm,
Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien, Vienna ), available at
http://www.artchive.com/artchive/ftptoc/bruegel_ext.html -- sorry can't get
the hypertext to work, I'll try an attachment) clearly shows women skating.
Surely women in Scandanavian countries have skated since there were skates.
I know I've seen 18th century folk art of American women skating, too, but
where? Winterthur? I wonder if satires are the best evidence for female
skating. It was probably less risible than women driving carriages, hunting
(with rifles), engaging in archery contests, and playing cricket, all of
which are satirized in 18th century caricatures.
With Austen I suspect female skating is one of those pleasures (like rolling
down the hill) Catharine will have to forego if she's to be married even to
the likes of Henry Tilney. (It isn't fair.) Girls and working class women
I'll bet skated, but I'm hard-pressed to provide much evidence.
Susan Nash
To C18-l
Re: Skating as a Man's Activity
I promise this will be my last one on this topic.
Is it not curious which activities are seen as
socially acceptable for women and which not?
I can see hunting as a male preserve. This
is primeval; go back to Sir Gawain and
the Green Knight. It is a bloodsport and
the franker depictions of the final kill are
savage scenes. I can see billiards as male.
It's at least competitive; around the table,
the males are drinking liquor, smoking;
they do it at their clubs as a way of killing
time together. Competitive team sports
have long been male preserves; numbers
of them are violently aggressive.
But ice skating? It's not competitive; it's
not a bloodsport; it's innocent -- outside
in lovely landscapes of snow and ice. It's
not conducive to sex. It's too cold; you
are all bundled up.
Yet women are encouraged to do archery.
Of course they are aiming at a target not
another person. Still ... And it does seem
that lawn tennis and bicycle-riding were
socially acceptable for women from their
inception as a popular social activity at
the end of the 19th century.
Odd.
Ellen Moody
Sender: 18th Century Interdisciplinary Discussion At 07:37 AM 7/4/00 -0400, you wrote:
Yes, except for Diana and the Amazons. And there is something monstrous
about a woman hunter turning on a man as when Diana turns on Actaeon in
revenge for the male gaze.
I have always wondered if Sir Gawain hunts out of sexual displacement or
frustration, as many men do.
The cigars may be off-putting, on purpose, to keep women out of the
smoke-filled room. When women started smoking, they violated the sanctity
of the smoker.
The recent release of women into competitive sports (usually with other
women) shows them as violently aggressive as well. Kathleen Turner did a
kind of parodic woman detective, V. I. Whateversky, who actually got
punched in the mouth, and did that to other people. A woman can be
violently aggressive with a tennis racquet (see under "killer instinct").
Think hockey, ma'am. That sport as played in North America is as close to
naked male aggression as any gladiator contest ever was, though the
contestants usually don't die.
Doesn't ice hockey have groupies? And isn't a ski lodge (if not the
restaurant at Rockefeller Center) a place for liaisons?
I said the same thing about a sauna once, for the opposite reason (too
hot), and was quickly corrected by a female student.
Except maybe for Diana and Niobe's kids?
Bicycle riding was probably liberating at the time, with speed and
exhilaration, if not aggressive driving. Picturing my grandmother as a
suffragette on a bike is a happy image.
Roy Flannagan
Sender: 18th Century Interdisciplinary Discussion The suitability of one activity or another for men/women does seem odd at
times, but it may well be the physicality of skating that made men take it
up and consider it as their own, as much as anything else. This seems to
be the explanation for why men similarly commandeered bell-ringing.
Indeed, feats of bell ringing were reported as a sporting activity
alongside cricket and hunting in the press, but as far as I know men did
not bet on it, could not show-off about it, and it must have been fairly
low on the list for making sexual conquests ('though, I may be wrong on
that). The dum-bell eventually became a key training device not only for
18c athletes but also when other 18c men trained for exercise and health.
We must also remember that all these discussions about the
'acceptability' of various activities for men/women only refers to those
in the top bands of the social strata. The 'lower orders' which comprised
the majority, were free to do pretty well as they liked. This is why
foot-races for women and girls were so common in village fairs and revels,
whilst at the same time running as a sport would have been considered most
unsuitable for 'ladies' or for those from the 'genteel' or 'refined'
classes.
Peter Radford
The only literary ice skating that comes to mind is the first part of
Woolf's Orlando where the 17th-century aristocrats skate on the frozen
Thames. On the basis of Orlando I'm not sure you can say skating isn't
conducive to sex. Much flirtation goes on . . . as it still does among
the early-teens crowd skating at the local shopping mall. In Orlando
the skating is somewhere between a dance and a masquerade, with the
elegance of graceful movement balanced by the ease of escape and
pursuit. The hero(ine) falls madly in love on the ice, and alas, his
true love's heart proves not much warmer.
Allen Michie
Subject: Skating as a Man's Activity Dear Ellen and all,
Archery may have been a fashionable sport for ladies both because it does
not disarrange clothing much and because it harkens back to the image of
the goddess Diana, a lady well able to defend her chastity and integrity
(by well-aimed arrows if need be) against the onslaught of boorish
would-be ravishers.
Happy Fourth to all, Jim
Amber Vogel Subject: Skating as a Man's Activity Ellen Moody wrote:
An alternative view is presented in Thomas Love Peacock's GRYLL GRANGE
(1861), in a scene entitled "Pas de Deux on the Ice". Lord Curryfin asks
Miss Niphet if she has ever skated:
Observing Lord Curryfin and Miss Niphet as they skate together, the
Rev. Dr. Opimian remarks: "They remind me of the mythological fiction
that Jupiter made men and women in pairs, like the Siamese twins; but in
this way they grew so powerful and presumptuous, that he cut them in
two; and now the main business of each half is to look for the
other; which is very rarely found, and hence so few marriages are
happy. Here the two true halves seem to have met."
I should mention, too, that the initial hestiancy to skate is shared by
men and women in this scene. Miss Gryll does not skate: "I have tried
it,' she said, 'but unsuccessfully. I admire it extremely, and regret my
inability to participate in it.'" Mr. Macborrowdale says, "I should be
very glad to cut eights and nines with his lordship: but the only figure
I should cut would be that of as many feet as would measure my own length
on the ice." Even the impressive Lord Curryfin had practiced his figures
(and taken "two or three tumbles") for an hour before breakfast: "He
thought it would be best to try his experiment without
witnesses." Hesitancy in these cases seems to be related to
understandable concerns about skating poorly, particularly before
spectators!
Best wishes, To C18-l
July 5, 2000
Re: Skating as Socialising, Class and Sexual Activity
This is to thank everyone. I now see that skating does indeed
have a sexual dimension. The passages from Orlando are
especially intriguing.
Thank you for that reply. I hadn't thought about the extent to which
how we appear before others also influences who skates and who
doesn't. When you are not racing on skates in a contest, it is
a kind of stage-y activity. One reason the passage in Austen in
which the women don't ice-skate intrigued me is ice-skating is
one of the few sports I have ever engaged in. When I was young I
did bike-ride, jump rope, play in school in games we were
pushed into (stick- or soft-ball, a form of baseball for girls,
volley-ball, which I liked), and I swam. But I never thought about
these things very much -- as opposed to skating, where, for
example, my parents had to buy for me what were seen
as expensive ice-skates and I had to travel to where I could
do it, so the activity assumed an importance or dimension
other activities didn't. (I got all the bikes I ever owned
from the Salvation Army.) I stopped skating
for various reasons, but one was that my first husband was
sometimes upset that I didn't do it very well, didn't look good
on the ice. He would bother me about it & try to get me
to skate better or faster or look more like others did. I rebelled,
refused to go along but the sense that others saw it that
way was an inhibition. There was also dressing up for
it, an outfit -- so we have a money element too. The Austens
were not exactly rich, and skates just for Frank made
for less expense than skates for all. In short at least
in our time and perhaps earlier maybe there is a show-off aspect to
ice-skating; we see this on TV today when ice-skating
is presented; and in your passage we see this has
always been so. I would think it might be especially true
of gentry where you are not skating as a practical thing.
Yes and I agree we should not forget we are just talking
about an upper strata of society, and a female one.
Probably then the social unacceptability of ice-skating
for genteel and upper class women connects to sex,
as most of the prohibitions that hindered these women
from living freer more interesting varied lives often
came down to preventing them from getting involved
with men sexually, even in the more casual ways.
As a coda or extension to this theme of what is 'socially
acceptable' for men and women to participate in, I'd like
to add that in NYC in the 1950s and 1960s girls were placed
in different gyms than boys and often played different games
or different versions of games. Both my daughters in
Alexandria, Va (a town just outside Washington DC) were
in gyms with boys and girls intermingled. So everyone
played together, and from what they said, the same games,
mostly it appears soccer. They wear the same outfits:
t-shirts and short pants for all. (In the 1950s and 60s girls
in NYC had the most absurd skirted gym outfits.)
I can't say that either girl liked gym very much though,
and will say the emphasis on athletics as opposed to
academic achievement in high school skews school
atmosphere in a way deleterious to academic achievement
and pride in what you accomplish in the classroom.
Cheers to all, Date: Tue, 04 Jul 2000 14:04:22 +0200 Dear Ellen Moody,
I'm afraid I haven't been following your skating thread but I read your last message on the
subject and it immediately brought Woolf's Orlando to mind (I suspect it's already been
mentioned, which is why I write to you rather than the list). The skating scenes in
Orlando, with
their playful approach to gender roles, seem to strike at the heart of your interest, particularly:
I hope this might be of interest.
Sincerely, Dr Paul Goring From: Paul Jacob At 09:27 AM 7/5/00 -0400, you wrote:
See Fontane, Effi Briest for sexual symbolism of skating & swinging
Subject: Women Skating Dear Ellen --
Not a learned enough observation for the list, but surely women skated in
North America in the 18th century, and in all Scandanavian countries
centuries
before. I think I've seen visual representations of both, but, alas, the
sources
escape me. (To some extent no doubt a reverse class
Sender: 18th Century Interdisciplinary Discussion As some contributors to the skating thread have noted, skating was not
limited only to men, but was a pleasure also shared by women, despite the
infrequent evidence for this. Skating had been popular in the Netherlands
from the middle ages, and there are a lot of 17th century paintings and
prints which show Dutch women skating, not only peasants but also the
middling sort of people.
"Stonehenge" (the editor of The Field etc.) in his book British Rural
Sports (1867) has an article on skating accompanied by a woodcut
illustrating a lady and gentleman (she wearing a voluminous skirt, he
brandishing a gold-tipped cane aloft), and there is no suggestion whatsoever
that this sport is not suitable for women.
Norman Wymer in his book Sport in England (1949) mentions the famous time
when the Thames froze solid in the winter of 1715-16 when all London made
merry on the ice including "men and women whirling themselves dizzy" on
sleds and skates. The crowds included royalty and the nobility as well as
the middling classes. Wymer says that the fashion for figure skating was
introduced from Holland by the Royalists during the Restoration. But British
weather (Britain has a temperate climate) usually was not very suitable
during the 18th century and the popularity of skating waned, but a series of
hard winters during the early 19th century caused skating to come into vogue
again, first in the Fen country with its extensive marshes and in the
Norfolk Broads. By the 1820s skating became a competitive sport and men held
races against one another, to which women were only spectators rather than
participants. It became a very highly organized international competition
sport for men by the 1870s. But women were not excluded from figure skating.
Artificial rinks were created in the 1840s, but didn't become popular until
the 1870s, in Manchester, when "men, women and children" increasingly
enjoyed themselves on the ice. Women's hockey teams were organized from the
1890s.
Incidentally, the man most responsible for popularizing the
art of ice-skating was Captain Robert Jones. His book "A
Treatise on Skating" was first published in London in 1772,
possibly in more than one edition; reissued with engravings in
1775; second edition in 1780, with a song, "The Skaters' March";
and many other editions, e.g. in 1797, 1823, 1825, 1855. (He also
wrote "A New Treatise on Artificial Fireworks", 1765; also
frequently reprinted.)
Skates manufactured to Jones's designs could be bought at
Riccard's Manufactory in London. He was one of the first people
to advocate the firm attachment of the skates to the shoes (by
means of screws through the heels) rather than by means of straps
and clips, in effect to make the skate integral (previously
skaters had to keep retying the skates to their shoes, and they
kept falling off). He wrote, "An easy movement and graceful
attitude are the sole objects of our attention."
Jones gives various instructions on how to achieve plain skating,
graceful rolling, and the spiral line, especially its most
elegant attitude - "the flying Mercury" (for which he provides a
delightful illustration).
Though called Captain Jones, he was actually a Lieutenant in the
artillery corps of the army. In July 1772 he was convicted at the
Old Bailey for sodomy upon Francis Henry Hay, aged thirteen. The
newspapers debated his guilt or innocence, as he was a famous character
in eighteenth-century popular culture: for example he would go to
masquerades dressed in the character of Punch. He was undoubtedly guilty
and was sentenced to death, but on the day he was scheduled to be
hanged, 11 August 1772, this was respited to imprisonment, and one month
later he was granted a pardon by King George III on condition he go into
exile. A newspaper reported in June 1773 that "The famous Capt.
Jones lives now in grandeur with a lovely Ganymede (his footboy)
at Lyons, in the South of France."
There are many allusions to the scandal in contemporary satires
and poetry. One example is the "Latin Epitaph on Bob Jones,"
published in a newspaper in July 1773:
Jones's "Treatise on Skating" was published during the course of his trial,
and sales were probably
helped by his notoriety. Unfortunately this great Queen on Ice seems to have
been written out of the history of the sport.
Rictor Norton, London
This is to thank Rictor Norton. I am actually delighted to think
that all women skated even if the evidence for this is thin.
The story of the Queen of the Ice is good.
So now I am back to my original question: why then did Jane
Austen not skate with her brother? She was only a year younger.
I doubt she was pregnant. Apparently she could even get cheap
skates. Actually she doesn't participate in any sports that
I can see from the letters -- just walking. She doesn't
hunt or ride -- which her brothers do. She plays cards
and games in the house. She walks a whole lot -- as I do.
(I just bought a wonderful book called The History of
Walking by Rebecca Solnit which I mean to cheer myself
with this weekend.) I rush to say I think nothing wrong
in not participating in any sport whatsoever. I don't.
She reads. I can't disapprove of that; prefer it myself.
Still walking is not what is meant by the word 'sport'.
So maybe it does tell us something particular about her
even if only something negative in the sense that she
doesn't do it, not in the sense that she ought to have.
That was really my original interest. What was this
author like as a real personality, what did she go in
for and what did she not do. Then to build a picture.
Claudia Johnson and other writers go on about Elizabeth Bennet's one
big walk where she gets all muddy. However, besides
a couple of other long walks in the books, none of
the Austen heroines go in for sports or other physical
activities. Fanny Price has to overcome a neurasthenic
reluctance to get on her pony. Again, I'm not
critical of her for this. I find nothing particularly
admirable in people born with genes which encourages
them into sports (a disposition for this is another
way of putting this).
There is the Trollope passage suggests that a strata
of English society in the mid-19th century again saw skating
as an activity for gentlemen not ladies.
It may be that in their fictions meant for middle class
readers both these authors are particularly neanderthal
in the area of sports for women as in other areas. Trollope
has heroines who hunt and ride, but he makes it clear that
this shows they are sexy or aggressive, and while he's
attracted as a man, as an author he doesn't quite
approve. I'll conclude by saying that perhaps this
strain of conventionality in Trollope and perhaps a
truthfulness about competitive sports finally relating
to herself in Austen is why they have maintained their
apparent popularity.
Ellen
Date: Thu, 6 Jul 2000 12:00:01 -0500 (CDT) Dear Ellen:
With Austen's letters in mind, I'd say her favorite "sports" were
reading, writing, intimate conversation, laughing, joking, gossip,
shopping, and dancing. (And then, perhaps, after she'd passed the
dancing /courting age, the pleasures of getting tipsy by the fire and
laughing at the dancers.)
I think of Catherine Moreland delighting in rough-and-tumble
activites as a child and then seemingly "graduating" to dancing, walking
for social/aesthetic pleasure, and being driven (decorously) in a
carriage. (Of course, there's the "sport" of Gothic exploration--both
stimulating and laughable.) I get the sense that the grown Austen may
simply have preferred mental to bodily stimulation--a matter of
personal proclivity or taste. She strikes me as such an observer: a
natural-born looker-on (or "sports commentator"?). Of course, her "taste"
could have been informed by an unconscious association of strenuous
(adult) physical activity with sex . . . but this is mere speculation.
I think of Fanny Price joyfully dancing with her brother--definitely an
approved activity--and wish, like you, that Jane had skated with hers.
I'm sure these observations are flavored by my own preferences: with
the exception of walking, sex, and dancing (when tipsy), my favorite
sports are mostly mental--reading, writing, and talk. One thing I hate
about traditional sports is the fuss, bother, time and expense of
equipping oneself. And then one looks so silly unless one has mastered
the requisite equipment and technique, and sometimes even then. The
truth is, I dread making a spectacle of myself. While I hope I have the
sense not to mistake myself for Austen, or my world for hers, I can't help
thinking we may share some of these preferences and aversions. And
perhaps, after all, the bottom line may be she simply felt sports to be
ungenteel for a woman of her position--and perhaps the tenuousness of her
position reinforced her seeming aversion.
For what it's worth!
Jan Wellington
P.s. Offhand, I can't think of Austen treating ANY sportsman kindly in
her novels. Which brings to mind the following 1798 poem by your
"namesake," Elizabeth Moody--whom I consider Austen's sister-in-wit:
To a Gentleman, Who Invited Me to Go a Fishing
And thou who know'st the charms of letter'd taste, Shall I who cultivate the Muse's lays Sit like a statue by the placid lake, (True, fishing isn't skating, and JA wasn't, as far as I can tell, an
animal advocate--but note the preference for mental "sport.")
Dear Jan,
Thank you for letter and the poem. I like 18th century
poetry. I agree with much of what you say, and also
tend to see Austen as something like myself -- someone
who likes to walk, read, write, and talk to like-minded
people. The word 'sport' connotes competition too;
the desire to triumph, so maybe we could see flirting
as a sort of sport. I wonder how much Austen liked
competition; except for Emma her heroines eschew it.
You are right that Austen's favorite males are not
hunters: says Edward Ferrars, 'everyone does not
hunt'. I believe we are told that Admiral Crofts like
to go shooting, but doesn't kill birds. Austen is
sarcastic about shooting and killing birds in one of
her letters. Maybe you would like A History of
Walking by Rebecca Solnit; I tell myself I will not
be so virtuous this weekend, and put away the
'serious reading towards my book' and read that
one.
Cordially, Date: Tue, 4 Jul 2000 18:55:23 -0400 On a slightly different tack, isn't it amazing how much meat in general, and
how few vegetables seem to be eaten. I wonder how their digestive systems
could have worked. I think the poorer people got enough whole grains--just
a guess--but upperclass people seem to have even eaten meat for breakfast.
Never a mention of salad --and surely fruit was only for a short season. Is
this a true picture, or just the way it sounds in fiction? Is there
somewhere I could read about food in this period?
Judy Warner
From Angela:
The brick maker, Dan Morris, says to Josiah Crawley that "I'd 've arned
three and six here at brick making easy". This puts his income about
£50/60 per year - half that of Mr Crawley.
Date: Thu, 06 Jul 2000 06:52:07 +0100 Ellen posted a while ago about the central mystery of
the cheque in this novel. I've been intrigued.
As Trollope lovers, everyone will be delighted to learn
that The Last Chronicle comes in at No 2 of the Guardian's
recommended 100 classic summer novels. Described as
"containing the near impossibility - the sympathetic
portrait of an incredibly unsympathetic hero. A masterpiece."
Perhaps not surprisingly, this is Joanna Trollope's choice.
I like the way in which Trollope works with the idea of the
public handling of a very painful private situation. We got
it in The Warden, The Small House and in Orley Farm and
now in The Last Chronicle. I think he does this extremely well
and makes us feel those lacerations of the spirit in an indirect
way.
Angela
Date: Thu, 06 Jul 2000 16:33:48 I particularly liked Mrs. Thorne's comment about the
"wiseacres at Silverbridge"
and later when Mrs. Grantly warns the archdeacon
"'Archdeacon,' said his wife, cautioning him to repress his energy." This is the first time I remember her saying anything to him
outside of their bedchamber.
I do love this book and find it hard to comment without giving
too much away to those who haven't read it yet.
Joan
From Michael Powe:
In fact, according to Gay (in, I believe, The Education of the Senses),
infant and mother mortality among the poor was actually better than it was
among the bourgeois. This was because at that time, the poor went to
hospital for maternity, whereas the bourgeois stayed at home. The
hospitals were more sanitary and the risks of infections after childbirth
were less.
mp
Date: Fri, 14 Jul 2000 00:25:22 +0100 I earlier explained a little about cheques (I prefer to use the older form
of spelling - checks are rather flamboyant trousers for playing golf in
here, or going to parties in in the USA!). I need to explain a little more; I am not an expert in
banking, but I don't think I am making any errors in what I write.
We are speaking now of the banking situation in a small town, in a period
150 years ago, and it applied much like this until within the last 20 years
or so. The concept of nationwide banks did not apply at the time. Now in
the UK, Ireland and on the continent of Europe most of the small bank
companies have amalgamated into giant banking corporations (and gone to
Hell in a handcart!); we are speaking of a period before this.
The bank in question might have had six or eight branches in a specific
area; it might have had some form of liaison with a London bank, who
presented its cheques to the Central Clearing House. But within its own
immediate area it handled everything. Cheques presented in its offices
would be sorted every day; those drawn on its branches would be charged
against the relevant accounts; those drawn on other banks (not within the
small group we speak of) would be sent to the Central Clearing House for
presentation to the bank on which they were drawn.
A cheque is a written order to the bank to pay the payee (the person named
on the cheque) a sum of money. The standard cheque form, which names the
bank, has a blank space for the payee. This space is followed by the words
"or order". So if I write a cheque for Mickey Mouse, it reads "Pay Mickey
Mouse or order £100". Now it can be "negotiated". Mickey Mouse can turn
up at the bank and say "Please cash this", and if they like his face, and
are reasonably sure he is Mickey Mouse, they give him the money.
In the good old days of which we speak, Mickey Mouse might owe Fred
Flintstone £100. So he gives him my cheque, and Fred turns up at the bank
to get the money. Same story - if they like his face, and if the cashier
thinks I have the money to meet the cheque, they give him the money. The
person actually getting the money signs the back of the cheque as a form of
receipt. In due course, the paid cheque is returned to me as the account
holder (no longer returned - another good custom bites the dust!). On the
front, it says "Pay Mickey Mouse". On the back is Fred Flintstone's
signature (or mark, with his name written by the bank clerk, if FF can't
write). So I am able to say that MM gave the cheque to FF. The path can
be extended - Fred could have given it to Barney Rubble in settlement of
some gambling debt. Barney could have given it to ... and so on. But one
thing is certain - the person who actually got the money would have signed
the back of the cheque. It was the responsibility of the person who
presented the cheque at the bank to be able to prove that he had that
cheque legally. It was often the case that a cheque would be presented by
a "third party", who was only acting as a messenger. So Fred might not be
able to get to the bank, and would endorse the cheque, and Wilma would
bring the cheque into the bank and get the money. I have known cases where
such a third party presenter was not given money into his/her hand, but an
envelope addressed to the person who had endorsed the cheque, containing
the correct amount of money.
The cheque was written by Lord Lufton on his bankers in London, in favour
of Mr Soames his agent, to repay Soames who had given him £20 in cash. The
cheque was presented to the Barchester bank by "a brickmaker of Hoggle
End". The bank don't like this (I did say that they had to like your
face!), but next day he turns up with the back of the cheque signed by
Josiah Crawley, and a note from Josiah Crawley asking that the cheque be
cashed and the cash given to the brick maker, and of course, Josiah Crawley
being a clergyman, they cash the cheque.
In due course, the cheque is presented to the bank on which it is drawn in
London and the £20 (already paid) passed down to the bank in Barchester to
reimburse them. Then Soames, as Lord Lufton's agent, notices that the
cheque has been paid, and asks (not clear just who, though I suspect the
police became involved early on; once they are involved it is difficult to
get them off the case) that Crawley be asked where he got the cheque.
Crawley says that he got it from Soames. Now he did get £20 4 shillings
from Soames, certainly, but this turns out to have been in the form of a
cheque written on Soames's own account (probably a Lufton estate account)
on a Barchester bank . So Crawley is asked again where he got the cheque
and he says "wasn't it Soames? Must have been from the Dean"; they ask the
Dean, and he says he didn't give Crawley the cheque.
So there is the scenario: Crawley has undoubtedly received £20 for a cheque
he does not appear to be entitled to cash. The police have been brought
in, and as "uttering a stolen cheque" is a crime, they must take matters to
the correct legal course. Early in The Last Chronicle one can detect that
Lord Lufton would have forgotten the matter if he could have, but the
involvement of the police prevented this.
The important point is that a cheque is a negotiable instrument, and the
person getting value for it must be able to account for his possession of it.
For completeness, I should just cover how a cheque was made "non
negotiable". The way to make sure a cheque was paid _only_ into a bank
account was to "cross" it, where two diagonal lines were drawn across the
cheque and "and Company" written between them (shortened to "& Co"). This
meant that the cheque had to be paid into a bank account, but it could
still be passed from person to person, although now each person handling it
had to endorse the back. To be absolutely certain that it was paid only to
the correct person and no other person, you had to cross out the "or
order", initial both ends, and if you were really paranoid, write "only"
(As in "Pay Mickey Mouse only") and then "cross" the cheque to ensure it
was paid only into Mickey Mouse's bank account.
At the time, and probably still today, one did not have to write a cheque
on a bank printed form. One could write a cheque on a piece of paper,
provided it had the following:
Account numbers? No! Bank sort codes? No! These are all things that
the banks use for their convenience. Did I say a piece of paper? Sorry -
nearly anything will do. English writer AP Herbert wrote a cheque on the
side of a cow, on a flat fish, and I think a boiled egg and a banana
skin. He was having a row with his bank at the time. They had to bring the
cow for special clearance. I hope they had to specially clear the banking
hall after the cow as well!
Rory O'Farrell Email: ofarrwrk@iol.ie Date: Sat, 15 Jul 2000 10:47:38 I'm sure we ought to thank Rory for that thorough explanation of
how checks worked, and why the question we are going to confront
this week is, How did he get it? The flow and exchange of paper
money was different in Trollope's time, different enough to
be confusing to us, especially since some of the terminology
has remained the same.
I have no expertise in investment, but would say that the process
of intimidation is alive and well in banks today still. I know
I dislike going into banks to talk with 'counselors'. I always
feel awkward in these places because I don't like the sense of
being screened. I have always been glad I never worked in such
a place.
Ellen Moody
Date: Mon, 17 Jul 2000 16:01:23 -0400 Many thanks to Rory O'Farrell for his short course in negotiable
instruments. The difficulty that I've had 'following' the course of Lord
Lufton's check may arise from a difference in banking practices. To revert
to Rory's fact pattern, Mickey Mouse, in the US, would have to endorse the
check before passing it on to Fred Flintstone. Mickey's signature would be
proof of Fred's entitlement, so far as the banking system would be
concerned. Since Mickey would have to endorse the check anyway, to cash or
deposit the check on his own, it's obviously conceivable that Fred could
misappropriate the check after Mickey endorsed it but before he had a chance
to cash or deposit it. Responsibility for the misappropriation - criminal
questions aside - would fall upon Mickey, which is why prudent people don't
endorse checks until they're standing in front of a teller.
I gather that Soames had not endorsed the check, as either (a) his signature
would not be required by obtaining banking rules or (b) he would not be so
careless as to endorse the check prematurely. In the US, the check as such
could not be cashed or deposited by Josiah Crawley or his by messenger or
for that matter by Bishop Proudie. The absence of Soames' endorsing
signature would be an insurmountable obstacle to negotiating the check. If
Rory's account of the practices is correct (and I take it to be), then we
may see in current American laws at least a measure to prevent accidents
like the one befalling Mr. Crawley.
R J Keefe
Date: Tue, 18 Jul 2000 11:23:19 +0100 I think that we need to go back to the original law. To quote from my text
book, Elements of English Law by William Geldart (Fourth Edition 1948), a
cheque is :
The author, writing originally in 1911, goes on to say :
This means that even if Mr Crawley had stolen the cheque from Mr Soames, he
would have been given value (cash for £20) by the bank in Silverbridge, and
the latter would therefore be able to collect the money from Lord Lufton's
London bank. Mr Crawley would still have to explain how he came by the
cheque, which is the point of the legal proceedings against him. The
chequered (!) history of the cheque will come to light later in the novel.
In the period when Trollope was writing, it would have been unusual for
cheques to be payable to order, so that Lord Lufton's cheque would have been
payable to "Mr Soames" only. I agree with Rory and R J Keefe that if it had
been payable to "Mr Soames or Order", there would have had to be a history
on the back of the subsequent endorsees. With the increased use of banks and
cheques after the second world war it became common, in the interests of
security (of the banks probably), for the cheque to be crossed, with or
without the addition of "& Co", which meant that it could only be paid by
presenting it to a bank. Nowadays, the words "or Order" are left out
altogether, and the crossing reads "Account Payee" which makes it almost
impossible to use other than by paying it in to the account of the person
named on the cheque. This overcomes the problem of tracing the history of a
cheque, but makes life very difficult for people without a bank account, of
whom there are still a substantial number in the UK. As Rory says, talking
about Irish banks, a UK bank might be prepared to make an exception for
someone they know, (or can identify by the ears!), or for a relatively small
amount of money.
Regards, Howard
Teresa Ransom had written in about checks, and Rory corrected
her with a "tut, tut."
Date: Tue, 18 Jul 2000 08:23:28 EDT Indeed tut tut, - homework inadequately done. However, having now re read
chapter 1 as instructed, I remain baffled.
It is specifically stated that *the accomodation had been refused to the man
at first, [the brickmaker of Hoggle End] but when he presented the cheque the
second day, bearing Mr Crawleys name on the back of it, together with a note
from Mr Crawley himself, the money had been given for it;*
So the cheque written by Lord Lufton in favour of Mr Soames had now been
endorsed by Mr Crawley. [and not, one is led to believe by the payee, Mr
Soames.]
According to Rory this was an acceptable state of affairs, and would seem to
provide compelling evidence of Mr Crawleys guilt.
However, in Chapter 8 (TS version p73) it is stated that when Mr Soames
discovered the loss of the cheque and the pocket book shortly after his visit
to Mr Crawley in the Spring, *He had written and sent to Mr Crawley to
enquire, but had been assured that nothing had been found. . . . .He had
therefore stopped the cheque at the London bank.*
If the cheque was stopped in the Spring, how was Crawley able to cash it in
October, several months later?
Perhaps I am nit picking, but I, like the inhabitants of Barchester and
Hogglestock, do like to get the facts straight.
Having said that, I have to admit that I have not yet finished the book,
though am enjoying it so much I have rather rushed ahead of the official
timetable. No doubt all will be revealed by the last page.
Cheers,
Subject: THIN ICE
From: Betty RW Rizzo
Subject: skating
From: Betty RW Rizzo
Subject: Did women skate?
To: C18-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU
Frank Felsenstein
Ellen
To: Ellen Moody
Subject: Did women skate?
Francis Steen
And in the frosty season, when the sun
Was set, and visible for many a mile
The cottage windows through the twilight blazed,
I heeded not their summons. Clear and loud
The village clock tolled six; I wheeled about
Proud and exulting, like an untired horse
That cares not for his home. All shod with steel,
We hissed along the polished ice in games
Confederate, imitative of the chase
And woodland pleasures, the resounding horn,
The pack loud bellowing, and the hunted hare.
So through the darkness and the cold we flew,
And not a voice was idle With the din
Meanwhile, the precipices rang aloud;
The leafless trees and every icy crag
Tinkled like iron; while the distant hills
Into the tumult sent an alien sound
Of melancholy, not unnoticed; while the stars,
Eastward, were sparkling clear, and in the west
The orange sky of evening died away.
Into a silent bay, or sportively
Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng,
To cut across the shadow of a star
That gleamed upon the ice. And oftentimes
When we had given our bodies to the wind,
And all the shadowy banks on either side
Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still
The rapid line of motion, then at once
Have I, reclining back upon my heels,
Stopped short--yet still the solitary cliffs
Wheeled by me, even as if the earth had rolled
With visible motion her diurnal round.
Behind me did they stretch in solemn train,
Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched
Till all was tranquil as a summer sea.
Subject: THIN ICE
From: Betty RW Rizzo
Ellen
Subject: Thin ice
From: Betty RW Rizzo "'It's all up with Bernard and Mr Green [two
neighborhood gentleman-squires] for the next week at least.
It is freezing as hard as it can freeze, and they might as
well try to hunt in Lapland as here.
'Oh, but it is so' [says Lily]. Now, with women,
it is supposed that they can amuse themselves or live
without amusement. Once or twice in a year, perhaps
something is done for them. There is an arrow-shooting
party, or a ball, or a picnic. But the catering for men's
sport is never ending, and is always paramount to
everything else. And yet the pet game of the day never
goes properly off. In partridge time, the partridges
are wild, and won't come to be killed. In hunting time
the foxes won't run straight, -- the wretches. They show
no spirit, and wil take to ground to save their brushes.
Then comes a nipping frost, and skating is proclaimed;
but the ice is always rough, and the woodcocks have
deserted the country. And as for salmon, -- when
the summer comes round I do really believe that they
suffer a reat deal about the samon. I'm sure they
never catch any. So they go back to their clubs
and their cards ...
Ellen Moody
From: "Susan A. Nash"
To: Ellen Moody
From: Roy Flannagan
Subject: Skating as a Man's Activity
To: C18-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU
"I promise this will be my last one on this topic.
Is it not curious which activities are seen as
socially acceptable for women and which not?
I can see hunting as a male preserve."
"This
is primeval; go back to Sir Gawain and
the Green Knight. It is a bloodsport and
the franker depictions of the final kill are
savage scenes."
" I can see billiards as male.
It's at least competitive; around the table,
the males are drinking liquor, smoking ..."
"they do it at their clubs as a way of killing
time together. Competitive team sports
have long been male preserves; numbers
of them are violently aggressive."
"But ice skating? It's not competitive; it's
not a bloodsport ..."
"it's innocent -- outside
in lovely landscapes of snow and ice. It's
not conducive to sex."
"It's too cold; you
are all bundled up."
"Yet women are encouraged to do archery.
Of course they are aiming at a target not
another person."
"Still ... And it does seem
that lawn tennis and bicycle-riding were
socially acceptable for women from their
inception as a popular social activity at
the end of the 19th century."
From: Peter Radford
Subject: Skating as a Man's Activity
To: C18-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU
To: C18-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU
To: C18-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU
"But ice skating? It's not competitive; it's not a bloodsport;
it's innocent -- outside in lovely landscapes of snow and ice.
It's not conducive to sex. It's too cold; you are all bundled up."
"She answered: 'I have skated often in our grounds at home.' 'Then why
not now?' he asked. She answered: 'I have never done it before so many
witnesses.' 'But what is the objection?' he asked. 'None that I know
of,' she answered. 'Then,' he said, 'as I have done or left undone some
things to please you, will you do this one thing to please me?'
'Certainly,' she replied: adding to herself: 'I will do anything in my
power to please you.'"
Amber
Ellen Moody
To: ellen2@jimandellen.org
From: Paul Goring
Subject: Skating and sex
"When the boy, for alas, a boy it must be - no woman could skate with such speed
and vigour -
swept almost on tiptoe past him, Orlando was ready to tear his hair with vexation that the person
was of his own sex, and thus all embraces were out of the question. But the skater came closer.
Legs, hands, carriage, were a boy's, but no boy ever had a mouth like that ..... She was a woman
...' (pp.26-27 in my Penguin edition)."
Paul Goring
Engelsk institutt
NTNU Trondheim
7491 Dragvoll
Norway
Subject: Skating as Socialising, Class and Sexual Activity
To: C18-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU
"skating does indeed have a sexual dimension."
From: "Susan A. Nash"
To: Ellen Moody
From: Rictor Norton
Subject: Skating is for everyone
Underneath this stone there lies
A face turn'd downward to the skies;
A captain who employ'd his parts
Upon male bums, not female hearts:
Who turn'd his arms not against foes,
But against friends, whence Sodom rose,
And vile Gomorrah horrid fell,
To court th' unnatural flames of hell;
Because he err'd from nature's ways,
Nature despis'd him all his days,
Till being to Jack Ketch consign'd,
For crime of crimes, and dirty mind,
He was repriev'd from gallows death,
At Tyburn had resign'd his breath;
But George, in vengeance, let him live,
Like Cain, till conscience should forgive.
From: Jan Wellington
To: Ellen Moody
Subject: Skating is for everyone
For vacant hours of Man's destructive leisure,
Were sports invented of the barb'rous kind;
But tempt not me to share thy cruel pleasure.--
No sports are guiltless to the feeling mind
Whose treasur'd memory classic stores commands,
Shalt thou thy valuable moments waste,
Saunt'ring by streams with Fish-rods in thy hands?
And pay my homage at Apollo's shrine?
Shall I to torpid Angling give my days,
And change poetic wreaths for Fishing-line?
My mind suspended on a Gudgeon's fate?
Transported if the silly fish I take;
Chagrin'd and weary, if it shuns the bait.
- - - -
Ellen
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Diet
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Reverend Crawley's dilemma
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Last Chronicle of Barset, Chs 7-11: The Whole Cast Now On-
Stage
"The folks at the Parsonage
form a chorus.
and then the disbelief present when the men explained to the
women that they had to do what the lawyer said but ladies
could not understand that ...
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Cheques (or Checks)
a) Name of Bank and branch on which drawn
b) Name of Payee (Mickey Mouse)
c) Amount of the cheque (£100)
d) Signature of the person writing the cheque
e) A stamp for government cheque duty, currently 7 pence in Ireland. One
could use postage stamps to that value.
Tinode, Blessington, Co Wicklow, Ireland
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] The Last Chronicle: The £20 Bill
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Cheques (or Checks)
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Cheques
"an order for payment of money on demand, drawn on a banker, and expressed
to be payable either to bearer or to a named person or his order. If it is
payable to bearer, the rights of the holder may be transferred to him by
merely handing over the cheque. If payable to order, the holder can transfer
his rights only by endorsement i.e. by signing his name on the back. If he
so signs without more, the endorsement is said to be in blank, and the
cheque becomes payable to bearer. He may, however, make a special
endorsement, i.e. order to some other named person, who must again endorse."
"... any holder of a cheque to bearer - even a thief - can give a good title
to one who takes from him for value and in good faith; it passes like
money."
To: trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] cheques
Teresa
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