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Posts Tagged ‘Fanny Price’

When Jane Austen wrote letters to her sister or brothers, she had the choice of sending them two ways: One was to assume her siblings would pay to receive her letters. The other was that Jane would pay to send the letter. As we know, Jane lived on a budget of a mere £50 per year, as did Cassandra, and so their letters were crossed to save money on weight and pages.

Letter to Godmersham

In the following passage from Mansfield Park, Jane writes about 10 year old Fanny Price’s dilemma: She wants to write to her brother William, the sibling she loves the most, but she has no paper on which to write him, and even if she had the paper, she has no funds to send the letter. Her cousin Edmund offers a solution. 

“My dear little cousin,” said he, with all the gentleness of an excellent nature, “what can be the matter?” And sitting down by her, he was at great pains to overcome her shame in being so surprised, and persuade her to speak openly. Was she ill? or was anybody angry with her? or had she quarrelled with Maria and Julia? or was she puzzled about anything in her lesson that he could explain? Did she, in short, want anything he could possibly get her, or do for her? For a long while no answer could be obtained beyond a “no, no—not at all—no, thank you”; but he still persevered; and no sooner had he begun to revert to her own home, than her increased sobs explained to him where the grievance lay. He tried to console her.

“You are sorry to leave Mama, my dear little Fanny,” said he, “which shows you to be a very good girl; but you must remember that you are with relations and friends, who all love you, and wish to make you happy. Let us walk out in the park, and you shall tell me all about your brothers and sisters.”

On pursuing the subject, he found that, dear as all these brothers and sisters generally were, there was one among them who ran more in her thoughts than the rest. It was William whom she talked of most, and wanted most to see. William, the eldest, a year older than herself, her constant companion and friend; her advocate with her mother (of whom he was the darling) in every distress. “William did not like she should come away; he had told her he should miss her very much indeed.” “But William will write to you, I dare say.” “Yes, he had promised he would, but he had told her to write first.” “And when shall you do it?” She hung her head and answered hesitatingly, “she did not know; she had not any paper.”

“If that be all your difficulty, I will furnish you with paper and every other material, and you may write your letter whenever you choose. Would it make you happy to write to William?”

“Yes, very.”

“Then let it be done now. Come with me into the breakfast-room, we shall find everything there, and be sure of having the room to ourselves.”

“But, cousin, will it go to the post?”

“Yes, depend upon me it shall: it shall go with the other letters; and, as your uncle will frank it, it will cost William nothing.”

“My uncle!” repeated Fanny, with a frightened look.

“Yes, when you have written the letter, I will take it to my father to frank.”

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Fanny writes William a letter. (Mansfield Park, 1983)

Fanny thought it a bold measure, but offered no further resistance; and they went together into the breakfast-room, where Edmund prepared her paper, and ruled her lines with all the goodwill that her brother could himself have felt, and probably with somewhat more exactness. He continued with her the whole time of her writing, to assist her with his penknife or his orthography, as either were wanted; and added to these attentions, which she felt very much, a kindness to her brother which delighted her beyond all the rest. He wrote with his own hand his love to his cousin William, and sent him half a guinea under the seal. Fanny’s feelings on the occasion were such as she believed herself incapable of expressing; but her countenance and a few artless words fully conveyed all their gratitude and delight, and her cousin began to find her an interesting object. He talked to her more, and, from all that she said, was convinced of her having an affectionate heart, and a strong desire of doing right; and he could perceive her to be farther entitled to attention by great sensibility of her situation, and great timidity. He had never knowingly given her pain, but he now felt that she required more positive kindness; and with that view endeavoured, in the first place, to lessen her fears of them all, and gave her especially a great deal of good advice as to playing with Maria and Julia, and being as merry as possible.

From this day Fanny grew more comfortable. She felt that she had a friend, and the kindness of her cousin Edmund gave her better spirits with everybody else. The place became less strange, and the people less formidable; and if there were some amongst them whom she could not cease to fear, she began at least to know their ways, and to catch the best manner of conforming to them.”

Edmund’s solution was a third option not available to Jane or her family. Franking privileges were available to all peers and sirs, like his father, Sir Thomas Bertram, a baronet. He who would write his name diagonally across the sealed letter. This act automatically paid for the postage. — Regency Trivia: Franking Privileges, Ella Quinn

This scene sets the stage for the special relationship between the lonely, bewildered Fanny and her kind cousin, who has made her feel welcome and at home at a time when she felt adrift. Their connection would stand the test of time.

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The Regency Post — A Pity We’ve Lost Letters, Shannon Donnely’s Fresh Ink

Jane Austen — Quills and Correspondence

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Mansfield Park, Brock. Image @Austenprose

During the 17th century, ladies used parasols for protection from the sun. A century later they were using oiled umbrellas as protection from the rain as well. By the early 19th century, the design of the umbrella had improved and its use had become widespread. After Maria’s marriage, Fanny Price was overtaken by a heavy shower close to the Parsonage and sought shelter under an oak. When the Grants spotted her, they sent out a servant, but Fanny was reluctant to come in:

A civil servant she had withstood but when Dr Grant himself went out with an umbrella there was nothing to be done but to be very much ashamed and to get into the house as fast as possible; and to poor Miss Crawford, who had just been contemplating the dismal rain in a very desponding state of mind, sighing over the ruin of all her plans of exercise for that morning, and of every chance of seeing a single creature beyond themselves for the next twenty four hours, the sound of a little bustle at the front door and the sight of Miss Price dripping with wet in the vestibule was delightful. – Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

Beauty in search of knowledge, 1782. This 18th century woman carries an early version of an umbrella. These models were heavy and cumbersome. Image @Harry Elkins Widener Collection, Harvard College

A century before Mansfield Park was published (1814) men did not use umbrellas, which were regarded as women’s accessories:

A young man who borrowed one from a coffee house in a downpour in 1709 was excoriated as effeminate in a newspaper. It would have been a cumbersome model, ill-suited to being carried around. Similar heavy umbrellas were kept in churches to protect the parson during burial services. – A Brief History of the Umbrella 

Yet the following passage from Notes and queries, Volume 54, William White (Oxford University Press, 1876,  p. 202), suggests that men began to use umbrellas earlier than Jonas Hanway, who braved ridicule from street urchins and hackney coachmen, who regarded the use of the umbrella as a threat to their livelihood:

1745 – Paid for umbrella, box and carriage.
It is not stated for whose use this was intended; most probably for the minister when officiating at funerals. This is a remarkable entry, as the introduction of umbrellas into England is attributed to a much later period. The employment of the umbrella in the streets London is said to have been by Jonas Hanway, who died in 1786; but the following passage from the Trivia of Gay, who died in 1732, shows it was in use at a much earlier period

Good housewives Defended by th’ umbrella’s oily shed,
Safe through the wet on clinking pattens tread.”

Wet under foot, James Gillray. Image @Wikigallery. The woman is wearing "clinking" pattens as well as carrying an umbrella.

In 1893, Georgiana Hill wrote this descriptive history of the umbrella in England:

Umbrellas were a recent fashion in the earlier part of the century. During the first ten years of George the Third’s reign, the only umbrellas in use were large carriage umbrellas, which required an attendant to hold them. In the country they were hardly known at all. The philanthropist, Jonas Hanway, in 1756, boldly unfurled an umbrella in the streets of London, being the first man who ventured upon such an innovation. Surely Hanway deserves to be held in grateful remembrance by the male sex for this spirited effort towards the emancipation of his brethren from the thraldom of custom. He was jeered and ridiculed by the populace, but was not to be laughed into giving up the sheltering oilskin. About twenty years later, a valiant footman named John Macdonald began to use a silk umbrella, which he had brought from Spain. The boys shouted after him: “Frenchman, why don’t you get a coach?” but he grasped his umbrella more firmly and went on his way, and in some three months time he was able to use it without exciting remark. Miss J. Gay Trivia Hutton, writing in 1779 from Derbyshire, says: “Mrs Greaves lent us their umbrella, and servant to carry it.” Miss Hutton’s brother was the person to use an umbrella in Birmingham, a Frenchman being the first.

Jonas Hanway. Image @Wikipedia. This caricature depicts how long early umbrella handles were.

The town beau, when he first carried an umbrella, was caricatured in the prints as the rain-beau holding a tiny parasol over his head. A gentleman once borrowed an umbrella from the mistress of a coffee- house in Cornhill, and after the following satirical advertisement in The Female Tatler: “The young gentleman belonging to the Custom house, that for fear of rain borrowed the umbrella from Will’s Coffee house in Cornhill, of the mistress, is hereby advertised to be dry from head to foot on the like occasion he shall be welcome to the maid’s pattens.”

A meeting of umbrellas, James Gillray, 1782. By now, men used umbrellas as a matter of course.

An illustration of the want of umbrellas afforded in one of the caricatures of the period, showing a respectable citizen’s family from Vauxhall in a downpour of rain – the old gentleman with a handkerchief tied over his head to save his wig, and his wife’s cardinal on his to protect his best coat, while the wife herself and her daughters are tripping along in gowns turned up round their waists, and their heads enveloped in coloured handkerchiefs. In 1797 there was one umbrella in all Cambridge, and that was kept at a shop, and let out like a sedan chair ,by the hour. In London women carried umbrellas before men had taken to them, but the first umbrellas were heavy awkward machines made of oilskin or taffeta. Still, in spite of their cumbrous character, women who had to trudge along the streets on rainy days rejoiced in their shelter. With cloak and umbrella, they were able to face the dripping roofs and waterspouts, which were as much to be avoided as the rain. To the fashionable lady. who only walked in fine weather, the one important consideration was the parasol, but it was otherwise with the thrifty citizeness. Great must have been the relief and saving of clothes when the new invention came into use:

Good housewives all the winter’s rage despise,
Defended by the riding hood’s disguise;
Or underneath the umbrella’s oily shade,
Safe through the wet on clinking pattens tread.
Let Persian dames the umbrella’s ribs display,
To guard their beauties from the sunny ray;
Or sweating slaves support the shady load,
When Eastern monarchs show their state abroad;
Britain in winter only knows its aid,
To guard from chilling showers the walking maid.”
– J Gay Trivia

– A history of English dress from the Saxon period to the present day, Volume 1, By Georgiana Hill , 1893, p. 173-74.

The Umbrella, 1820. This cartoon depicts how little protection these early umbrellas afforded. Cruikshank exaggerates the woman's size to demonstrate the point. Image @Art Tattler

Early umbrellas were heavy and cumbersome to use:

Early umbrellas were made of oiled silk with heavy wooden frames which made them difficult to open or close when wet. Whalebone (baleen) was also used but this still made the article heavy. It wasn’t until 1852 that Samuel Fox invented the steel ribbed umbrella claiming that he was using up stocks bought for making corsets. This made umbrellas much lighter and more portable. – Come rain or shine: historic umbrellas and parasols 

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