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“Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.”
– William Shakespeare, As You Like It

Decorating one’s house with natural boughs has been a Christmas tradition since Celtic times. Boughs of holly with their bright red berries were especially coveted. (Read Mythology and the Folklore of Holly.) One understands how easily people in rural areas could obtain these bright green leaves, but what about those who lived in London? This image of a holly cart pulled by a donkey provides a solution.

Note that the customer purchases a small amount of boughs. Christmas decorations in the 19th century were modest to none compared to ours. In this 18th-century print of a coffee house or chocolate shop, one can see small leaves of holly placed in each window pane and a bough hanging from the center of the ceiling. (One cannot imagine that mistletoe would  be hung in a public setting.)

Bowles and Carver print, London. Circa 1775

In this image of a lavish family dinner by Cruikshank, not a single bough of holly decorates the room. Most likely a wreath had been hung on the front door or some boughs had been hung from the ceiling. With holly hard to obtain in metropolitan areas, one imagines that the spare use of decorations was as much from necessity as from tradition.

Image: Art.com

This image by Cruikshank of a family celebrating Christmas during early Victorian times  shows a few boughs inserted into the chandelier, a roaring fire, and the Christmas pudding about to be served to the hostess. This year, I have taken the Regency approach to decorating my house, emphasizing the season with just a few well placed decorations. And I love it.

Other Christmas Posts on this blog:

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18th Century toddler

Gentle Readers; This post is in honor of Jane Austen’s 235th birthday. I have joined a group of bloggers in a blogfabulous celebration, and their links will sit at the bottom of this post. Leave your comments on our blogs for an opportunity to win an array of unique prizes! Copyright @Jane Austen’s World

Jane Austen was born on December 16, 1775 during one of the harshest winters that would be recorded in recent memory in England. A premature cold wave prompted naturalist Gilbert White to observe that the trees in Selborne were looking “quite naked” as early as November 11th. Despite the cold snap, there would still be periods of mild weather. The day that Mrs. George Austen went into labor with her 7th child, White noted, “Fog, sun, sweet day.”

During the latter half of the 18th century, all but a handful of births occurred in the home, but by 1775, the practice of midwifery had changed. Physicians were rapidly taking over obstetrics, replacing the midwive and relegating her to work with only the lower classes or those who lived in areas where a doctor or even an apothecary were not available.

In fact, many women of that era gave birth without the services of a doctor or midwife. Steventon Rectory, the Austen family home, lay seven miles away from the nearest village of Basingstoke, and so on the eventful night that baby Jane was born, the Austen family did not bother to summon a physician.

An 18th century pregnant woman’s corset could be loosened from both front and back. Image from @What clothes reveal: the language of clothing in colonial and federal America, by Linda Baumgarten

Hogarth’s image of a pregnant woman

Mrs. Austen gave birth to her second daughter in her own bedroom. She was attended, I surmise, by female friends and family members, such as her sister-in-law, Philadelphia, which was the tradition of the time. As a matter of course (and sisterhood), female friends and relatives helped to assist in the birth. In England, women who lay in bed while giving birth would lie in a Sims position, or on the side with their knees curled up. One historical source speculated that having a baby in bed could be a messy event and doubted that many women before the age of plastic would risk sullying their sheets and precious feather mattresses by remaining in bed during the final stages of the birth process. This made sense to me, and so I searched for alternate images.

Birthing stools or chairs with sloping backs, which allowed gravity to help pull the baby through the birth canal, had been used for centuries.

16th century woodcut of woman giving birth. The chair is sloped to allow her to lean back.

Birthing attendants also used various positions during labor, as in this 19th century image, which shows an American frontier scene, with the husband holding his wife in a half seated, half leaning position as the midwive and two female companions assisted with the birth.

19th century birth, with husband and attendants

No one recorded precisely how many hours Mrs. Austen took to deliver baby Jane, but one can imagine that during her labor a cozy fire warmed the bedroom on that bitterly cold night,  twine and scissors lay on a nearby table, plenty of fresh water and linen rags stood at the ready, and baby linens were laid near a cradle.  Jane’s birth, which was expected in November, was swift and uneventful. Soon after she entered the world, baby Jane was cleaned, dressed and placed next to her mother in bed or inside her cradle, and wrapped snugly in a long quilted gown and a mantle. 

18th century infant shirt and bonnets, Christie’s

Reverend George Austen baptised his new daughter on December 17th in his home, as he had done with his other children. Then, as Mrs. Austen rested, he wrote notes announcing the birth to friends and acquaintances. For the only time in her life, he publicly called his new daughter “Jenny.” (One wonders if during private family time this nickname stuck.)

On April 5th, baby Jane was formally christened in St. Nicholas church, wearing a square-necked, sleeveless gown of fine cotton that probably opened in front. She would also have been wrapped in a pretty christening blanket.

18th century silver rattles, baby walker, and oak cradle. 

In 1775, fewer babies were swaddled, but the practice took a long time to die off.

Throughout the nineteenth century, the medical profession recommended a less constraining form of swaddling. In this type of swaddling, often practiced by the middle classes, the infant was able to move its legs and the arms were kept free from restraints, although mothers were still advised to keep the swaddling band to support the baby’s back. Baby clothing also became more comfortable.” – Swaddling, FAQ

Babies wore linen clouts, the 18th century form of a thick cloth diaper, which was pinned with straight pins (ouch) or tied with with lacings. The clout was covered by a pilcher, a garment that offered another layer of protection. Today’s pilcher has a plastic lining to prevent urine from leaking through. (Do recall from a previous post, that the 18th century attitude towards urine was different than ours in that urea was regarded as a disinfectant.)

Cap, napkin and pilch. Image @Sharon Ann Burnston’s website

While Georgian attitudes towards sanitation differed from ours, parents did recognize that a baby’s tiny bald head needed extra protection in cold, drafty houses. Caps decorated with hollie point lace protected a baby’s fragile head

Holly point lace caps for infants

Tiny linen shirts and long quilted bed gowns that opened in the front and extended beyond their legs (long clothes) warmed their tender bodies. These baby linens were also decorated with hollie point lace. (Hollie point was a whitework embroidery technique that was popular in the middle ages for church lace, and that was used after the 17th century for baby garments and baby blankets.)

18th c. baby dresses, Sturbridge

During this age of Industrial Revolution, ready-made baby items became more easily available and affordable. Childbed linens and baby clothes could now be purchased in shops or warehouses. Recycling of old clothes and cloths was definitely practiced, and it is without doubt that Mrs. Austen re-used Cassie’s outgrown clothes and bedlinens for baby Jane. Aside from needing a goodly number of clouts, the Austens would already possess most of the baby items their tiny daughter would need.

A day after giving birth to baby Jane, Mrs. Cassandra Austen was pronounced out of danger. Finally able to relax (even from her daily duties, which were overseen by friends or her sister-in-law, Philadelphia, perhaps) she would begin a lying in period to regain her strength. The mother, while resting during the lying in period, would be visited by her female friends, who would help look after the baby or help the mother through the grieving period (if the infant died.) This lying in period traditionally lasted a month, but for some sturdier (more impatient) mothers this period would last only a few weeks. Mothers whose infants died might not emerge for several months more. Ever the good hostess, biscuits and tea would be served to entertain visitors at set times.

Short gown maternity garment. Image @Fashions of Motherhood

Mrs. Austen would open her short gown (which fastened in front) and suckle Jane. But as with all their children, the Austens would send the new baby away to be fostered, a remarkable act of faith in a year when almost half of the more than 20,000 recorded deaths in England were those of infants. I have read articles in which a contemporary writer asserts that a Georgian parents’ grief over a child’s death was not as acute as ours, since so many infants died during that period. But much historical evidence shows that such a sweeping statement is simply not true. Georgian parents loved their children as much as today’s parents and grieved deeply for them. While they were painfully aware of the horrendous mortality rates for infants, this foreknowledge did not assuage their profound sense of loss when a child died.

Infant gown with removable sleeves, emuseum collection, Colonial Williamsburg

Infant’s gown with removable sleeves

Despite the possibility of their child not surviving infancy, the Austens had been in the habit of sending their children away just three months after their births to “a good woman at Deane”, a village close to Steventon. Giving a child over to a wet nurse had once been a common custom, but by 1775 this habit was fading as fast for the gentry as the use of a midwife. For the first crucial months, however, Mrs. Austen would breast feed baby Jane and take care of her personally.

Frost on trees in Hampshire

Baby Jane’s first winter on earth was bitter cold. Gilbert White noted that severe weather, with severe frost and snow, affected most of Europe from 9th Jan through 2nd Feb, 1776, and that the Thames was frozen for some time. A stormy February followed. The prolonged cold spell was broken by interludes of mild temperatures and melting snow, but these did not last long. Snow fall was often considerable, with frequent drifting, and daytime temperatures often dipped below freezing.

St. Nicholas (Chawton) across the fields. Image @Tony Grant

With such a prolonged cold snap, was it any wonder that the Austens kept baby Jane at Steventon until April 5th of that year? In contrast, Cassandra, who was born on January 9, 1773, had been with her foster mother for eight weeks by June 6th. While Edward-Austen Leigh wrote somewhat disapprovingly of his grandparents’ habit of fostering out their children, they must have made the right choices, for all the Austen children survived their infancy. Despite his censure, Edward observed that little Jane’s parents did not neglect her: “The infant was daily visited by one or both of its parents, and frequently brought to them at the parsonage, but the cottage [at Deane] was its home.”

Baby Jane might have resembled Gen Cadwallader’s daughter, 1772, by Peale

Author Irene Collins in Jane Austen, The Parson’s Daughter, identifies “the good woman at Deane” as Elizabeth Littleworth, the wife of a farmworker at Cheesedown, located between Deane and Steventon. These country folks remained close to the Austens for years, for in 1789 Jane acted as godmother to their eldest grandchild and stood as witness to the wedding of John Littleworth’s brother. Like the Martins in Emma, the Littleworths belonged to a lower social station, and the Austens, however grateful for their services, would not have socialized as equals with them.

Child wih leading strings, stays with cardboard stiffening, and child wearing a pudding cap

The Austen children stayed with the Littleworths until they started to walk and talk and could “be regarded as rational beings.” Henry returned to Steventon Rectory at fourteen months, and Cassy and Jane were returned when they reached two years of age.

Walking a toddler on leading strings. Image @Williamsburgrose

When baby Jane was ready to walk and crawl (about the time when she would be returned to her family) her mother would change her out of long clothes into short clothes. Short clothes were ankle length and allowed chubby legs the freedom of movement they needed to practice toddling. Toddlers also wore clothes with “leading strings” and pudding caps, which were padded.

A very fine pudding cap. Image @Metropolitan Museum

These caps, a sort of bumper guard, if you will, prevented injury to a toddler’s head if it fell or bumped into objects as it learned to walk (or so it was hoped).

“Like many mothers at the time, Mrs. Austen recorded her children’s progress in terms of dress. When Cassandra was taken out of her long gown and put instead into ‘petticoats’ (a frock and slip which finished at the ankles), her mother regarded it as a sign that she had left babyhood and would soon be learning to walk. From the petticoat stage, there was little change in girls’ clothing, except that the waistline of the frock went higher and the neckline lower.” – Irene Collins in Jane Austen, The Parson’s Daughter

18th Century Doll

Toddler Jane and her older sister Cassie also wore corsets. Yes, you read the word correctly. The tiny corsets, stiffened with cardboard, were thought to promote posture and help with walking.

Putting stays on young girls and boys was not seen as harsh, but rather as insurance that their figures would develop the correct form, with chest out and shoulders down. While boys usually wore stays only in early childhood, they were considered essential for females throughout their lives. – Philadelphia Museum of Art

These two tiny 18th century girls are wearing corsets

Since these early days, tiny Cassy and baby Jane, barely three years apart, developed a lifelong bond. Cassy most likely played with her younger sister as she would a doll and looked over her. By all accounts, their childhood at Steventon Rectory was happy and relaxed, with the children called by pet names, eating meals at the table, and visiting friends and relatives with their parents. Luckily for the Austen children, attitude towards childhood had begun to change and children were no longer dressed or perceived to be small adults. They were allowed to dress as children and, if they did not live in dire poverty, live a relatively carefree childhood compared to the children from generations before.

Would Mrs. Austen and her two daughters have resembled the Archibald Bulloch family? Painted in 1775 by Henry Bendridge, High Museum of Art, Atlanta.

 

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It wouldn’t be fair to neglect someone as important and dear to us as Jane Austen on her birthday. She was born on 16th December 1775, it’ll be 235 years next week . We owe so many immensely pleasant moments to her that we decided she deserved a great B-day celebration. My Jane Austen Book Club and other bloggers and Austen dedicated writers are going to have a blog party in her honour. You are all invited to join us on our “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JANE!” event next Thursday December 16th. Who will be there? Where is the party going on?

My blog, Jane Austen’s World, will be joining in on the celebration with the post, Baby Jane Austen’s First Two Years! As well as these other fine authors and bloggers:

You’ll find Happy Birthday posts and tributes to Jane Austen on all these blogs on December 16th with the HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JANE logo created by Adriana Zardini (JASBRA) just for the occasion. Lovely, isn’t it? Visit all the blogs on December 16th and leave your comments + e-mail address to have lots of chances to win one of the wonderful gifts we are giving away:


The books include – 1 signed copy of…

  • Willoughby’s Return by Jane Odiwe
  • Confessions of a Jane Austen Addict by Laurie Viera Rigler
  • Rude Awakenings of a Jane Austen Addict by Laurie Viera Rigler
  • Murder at Mansfield Park by Lynn Shepherd
  • Intimations of Austen by Jane Greensmith
  • Darcy’s Passions: Fitzwilliam Darcy’s Story by Regina Jeffers
  • First Impressions. A Tale of Less Pride and Prejudice by Alexa Adams
  • Jane and the Damned by Janet Mullany
  • Bespelling Jane Austen by Janet Mullany

Other gifts:

  • Austen bag offered by Karen Wasylowski
  • DVD Pride & Prejudice 2005 offered by Regina Jeffers
  • Package of Bingley’s Tea. (flavor “Marianne’s Wild Abandon” ) offered by Cindy Jones
  • DVD Jane Austen in Manhattan offered by Maria Grazia
  • 3 issues of Jane Austen Regency World offered by Maria Grazia

Giveaways will end on December 23rd . Winners will be announced by Maria Grazia, organizer of this celebration, on My Jane Austen Book Club.

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Gentle readers: The exhibition, Evolving English: One Language, Many Voices is showing at the British Library in London from November 12, 20101 through April 4, 2011. Featured is this flash dictionary, one of many exhibits:

Image from the British Library exhibit, Evolving English

This cheap pamphlet was aimed at young working men interested in sport, gambling and drinking. It amied to cover criminal cant, sporting slan and ‘flash phrased now in vogue’. In the19th century, the word flash had several meanings. A fashionable man-about-town was commonly referred to as a flash cove and the meaning survives today in the phrase ‘flash Harry’. The dictuionary includes figures we would recognise, including fencers and shoplifters and unfamiliar terms, such as ‘priggers’ (pickpockets and ‘spicers’ (highwaymen). – George Kent, Modern Flash Dictionary. London, 1835.

Listen to David Crystal, language expert, explore aspects of the evolution of the English language in this podcast.

Look up 19th century cant in this interactive online Lexicon of Thieves’ Cant Dictionary. When I looked up ‘Hangman’, for example, these terms came up: “Derrick, Jack Ketch, Ketch, nubbing cove, sheriff’s journeyman, topping cove, turned off.”

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Until a cold felled me low this week, I had refrained from rewatching Northanger Abbey 1986, which I had a tough time sitting all the way through the first few times around. This film has left me feeling frustrated for its lost opportunities and many misses, and I wonder if the director and script writer wish today that they could change some of the creative decisions they made almost a quarter of a century earlier. In this film, we see the story unfold from young Catherine Morland’s (Katherine Schlesinger’s) point of view. This means we get a lot of Gothic novel fantasies made up by script writer Maggie Wadey, and hardly any Jane Austen at all.

Isabella Thorpe and her mother wear outfits, hats, and hairdos that seem inspired by Von Heideloff prints

The production values are quite stunning, considering how old this BBC adaptation is and how poorly made films for television were in that era. Costumes designed by Nicholas Rocker are the fashion equivalent of beautiful meringues and chocolate bonbons (how could any of these women, except Mrs. Allen or Eleanor Tilney have afforded such luxurious gowns?). Despite the breathtaking settings and authentic backdrops, this 90-minute film adaptation with its strange synthetic music manages to entirely miss the satiric point of Jane Austen’s wonderful take on the gothic novel. And someone should have told the makeup department to lay off the heavy mascara and lipstick on all the ladies.

1795 Von Heidoloff fashion plate

Although the length of this adaptation is a mere 90 minutes, script writer Maggie Wadey added scenes and characters that detracted from the story or overwhelmed it, and that replaced moments in the book that were important to drive the plot forward and understand the characters better.

While Jane Austen made it clear that young Catherine had quite an imagination, these over the top film scenes were jarring and took away valuable cinematic time from good story telling.

I also found major problems with the musical score. The four musical clips embedded in this post and written by composer Ilona Sekacs in no way evoke the Regency era.  Click to hear the theme for the DVD – a 47 second music clip.

Catherine's Gothic dreams drive the music

Sekacs’ synthesized music and odd vocalizations from a female choir concentrate almost solely on giving us an eerie sense of ” Gothic doom”. Unfortunately, the composer uses the  “Lah da dah-Ooh” chorus throughout the film, and occasionally throws in a Gregorian Chant for good measure. Only during the ball scenes and at a musicale in Northanger Abbey are we allowed to hear music made with traditional instruments and that might have been heard during the Regency era.

An occasional tinkle from a pianoforte would have added greatly to a Georgian era atmosphere

I can only surmise that Ilona Sekacs was influenced by Vangelis, who had won an Academy Award for his score for Chariots of Fire five years before this production. Although Chariots was a period film, Vangelis’ electronic score sounded fresh and sweeping as 1920’s male runners practiced their speed against a back drop of endless beaches, rolling waves, and big sky. His score was a huge success in the early 80’s and he was rewarded for it. Alas for Jane Austen lovers, electronic synthesizers do not work as effectively in evoking a Bath drawing room, or as a backdrop for such Regency pastimes as walking, taking the waters, and carriage rides.

Bodiam Castle, built 1385

As the opening credits roll by, Catherine’s views Northanger Abbey from the carriage (to the accompaniment of this musical clip, which features male and female chanters and trumpets blaring). The Abbey is actually Bodiam Castle, a 14th-century keep with a water moat, and a well-known tourist destination.

Bodiam Castle's grounds from the air

I instantly sat up and took notice, for I have visited Bodium Castle. It was a ruin during Jane Austen’s day and was only partially rebuilt in 1829, a good twelve years after her death. According to Jane’s novel, Northanger Abbey was surrounded by extensive gardens, and I wondered how the director would pull off the scene where the general boasted of his fruit trees.  Imagine my surprise when I saw Catherine and Miss Tilney walking towards a side entrance of an entirely new building with different architectural details and nary a moat in sight. “Badly done”, as Mr. Knightley would have said. Bad transition, indeed.

A stroll through the gardens of Northanger Abbey

But I have jumped ahead of myself, for there are other earlier errors for which I cannot forgive this production. Take Henry Tilney (Peter Firth), for instance. At the Assembly Ball, he bumps into Catherine and Mrs. Allen (a delightful Googie Withers) without a proper introduction from the Master of Ceremonies. Except for Henry’s comments about muslins, his fey but wise sense of humor is almost entirely missing at the start of this film.

Henry Tilney bumps into Catherine Morland and Mrs Allen.

I must admit that I do not like Firth‘s portrayal of Henry Tilney and could never see him as this character. But even so, Henry’s charming conversation was given short shrift, and he appears only long enough for Catherine to develop an interest in him before disappearing. Click here to view a YouTube clip (and hear period appropriate music) of Henry’s first meeting with Catherine.

James Morland introduces John Thorpe

Where Henry’s role was severely diminished, John Thorpe’s presence early in the film was largely retained.  Mrs. Allen and Catherine do not bump into Mrs. Thorpe as they walk through Bath, as Jane Austen had written. Rather, as you can see in this YouTube clip, Catherine’s brother, James, visits the Allens and makes the introduction. Catherine then meets Isabella, overplayed by Cassie Stuart.

Isabella Thorpe, pretty but calculating

Because of the film’s short length, Isabella’s overly forward and friendly manner seems doubly rushed. The second time she meets Catherine, she reveals her love for James and her wish to marry him, and the next thing you know, James goes racing off to his father to beg for his permission to marry her.

John's loud coat should clue Catherine about his character

But once I again I digress.  John Thorpe (Jonathan Coy) is suitably sleazy (can’t you tell from his hideously striped suit?) and even Catherine leaves her Gothic fantasies long enough to be appalled by his boorishness. Thorpe’s early scenes are quite effective and then … he disappears. Except for a few mentions later, he literally falls off the face of the DVD, but not before he participates in one final scene in the hot baths, where Catherine, Isabella, Mrs. Allen, and Eleanor Tilney gather to bathe in the hot mineral waters. The party enters the baths to the strains of odd discordant music. An entire chorus is now crowding in on Catherine’s brain, and she can only stare wide-eyed around her.

Mrs. Allen and Catherine in the hot bath

But Catherine, who has a full and active day ahead of her, can bathe for only a short time. She makes a walking date with pretty Eleanor Tilney (Ingrid Lacey), who happens to be there. After sweating for some time in a hot and humid room, Catherine and Isabella emerge from the building with every curl in place and looking fresh in their beautiful unwrinkled, delicate muslin walking dresses. Isabella begins to fret over Catherine’s excessive attention to Eleanor. It is at this point that the uninitiated will start to lose an important thread of the story, for unless the viewer has already read the book, she will have no idea why John and Isabella are so determined to have Catherine accompany them to Clifton.

Bath is a beautiful setting as always

The plot has been so compressed and muddled, that the motivation that drives these characters is a bit murky.  The uninitiated will wonder: Why is John so interested in Catherine? Why is Isabella jealous of Eleanor? Why, indeed.

As John meets the ladies outside the hot baths he reveals that he has rearranged Catherine’s walking date with Eleanor, which sets Catherine’s temper off and sends her running through the streets towards General Tilney’s house.

In my opinion, this would have been a good time to insert Vangelis’s oscar-winning score for Chariots of Fire, since a run through Bath by a Jane Austen heroine is now rapidly becoming a Jane Austen TV adaptation tradition. (See Persuasion 2007.)

Catherine interrupts the Tilneys

Catherine rushes past the footman as he opens the Tilney’s front door, enters the house alone, and barges into the drawing room to apologize to Eleanor for John’s arrogance. All the while, she still looks fresh as a daisy.

The General meets his unexpected guest

She meets General Tilney (Robert Hardy), who is simply delighted with Catherine and who encourages her to go on an outing with Henry and Eleanor as soon as possible. (The uninitiated will wonder: “why is he so intrigued with this rather simple, uninteresting girl?” Why indeed.) And so Catherine hurries off with the Tilney siblings to … Beechen Cliff ? Why, no! Jane Austen’s chosen spot for discussing the picturesque wasn’t deemed good enough and so the actors were taken to another location.

A walk along a sculpted lake instead of Beechen Cliff

And thus they are filmed walking through a picturesque setting, with a lake and temple folly and weeping willows (so very 18th century refined), to talk about the picturesque.

A lake with temple folly

Instead of gazing at Bath from the heights of Beechen Cliff, the viewers are treated to the sight of Henry rowing the ladies across the waters.

At the end of this important scene (for Henry recognizes Catherine’s natural, unassuming, yet unformed airs), the music crescendos and the viewers hear 31 seconds of neo-jazz/Grecian tragedy music with a greek chorus and New Orleans saxophone.

In this image, the description of Catherine rings true: ""Catherine grows quite a good-looking girl-she is almost pretty today."

At this juncture I must share the following comment, just to soften my own harsh critique. Jules, a very well spoken person, had this to say in 2005:

Ilona Sekacz wrote the score for a BBC TV version of ‘Northanger Abbey’ with Peter Firth. The music stood out a mile. A wonderful, haunting voice with a pulsing rhythm that has has stayed with me since I first saw the programme back in the 80s (I think). I could hum it now. I have tried to find this music but it has disappeared into cyberspace. Such a shame, it was so memorable. I bought the video years ago just to get the music. It’s not out on DVD but I transferred my VHS so I’ll never lose it.

I love this woman’s music, it’s unique and inspiring.

Isabella flirts with Captain Tilney and gets her comeuppance

Ok, so to each his own. I’ve gone on long enough about how much I dislike the film. In swift succession, Isabella flirts with Captain Frederick Tilney, prompting James to end their engagement; Catherine visits Northanger Abbey and makes a fool of herself trying to find intrigue and uncover a murder most foul,

Catherine rides with Henry to Northanger Abbey

and General Tilney discovers she’s as poor as a church mouse and casts her out of his house.

The general learns that Catherine is poor

Because time is so compressed in this film, Catherine is cast out of Northanger Abbey without explanation. The uninitiated will have no idea what has transpired, because no explanation was given at first. And because the camera does not follow her on her ride alone back home on a public stage without adequate resources, the uninitiated remain clueless about Catherine’s mature demeanor during that long journey alone and how dastardly the General treated her by forcing her to go unescorted, thereby placing her in harm’s way. Henry Tilney soon discovers he can’t live without her and comes after her on his steed. And because he comes across in this film as a prosy old bore, not a sharp-witted, dashing hero, the uninitiated will wonder what Catherine actually saw in him.

Henry comes for Catherine

Did I find anything of redeeming value in this film? Yes, but those comments shall have to wait for another critique. A production that added a marchioness who provided General Tilney with the latest gossip (and perhaps some sport in his bed), but that prevented Henry Tilney from saying some of his best lines deserves little praise.

Why was the marchioness (Elaine Ives-Cameron)added?

How would Lady Catherine de Bourgh have critiqued the film, I wonder?

“I send no compliments to the director or script writer. They deserve no such attention. I am most seriously displeased.”

I must explain that this film was one of the main reason why I did not read Northanger Abbey until the very last of Jane’s novels. The story as told in this film is quite awful, so you can imagine my delight and surprise when I finally met Jane Austen’s actual characters in print.

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