frigatetoutopia-Christian-Science-Monitor

This is not a review. I can't write much about my feelings about Daniel Deronda without pouring out the secret springs of my soul and my imagination. Nor is it an analysis, though Daniel Deronda is a fascinating treatise on several subjects, most notably the politics of female oppression and the nascent Zionist movement in the 19th century.

No, this is a tribute to a book after mine own heart. Daniel Deronda, though not so perfectly crafted as Middlemarch, is one of those books I wish I could have written. Not because it's perfect, not because I could have written it better, but because I feel that its spirit has been brewing in me and because I've imagined shadowy visions of its scenes before I ever picked it up.

My soul is joined to this novel because of its exploration of women's desire to perform musically - my own greatest desire, which I then place in a fictional character. But always, in my imagination, when my character went to a severe musician, asking for his honest appraisal of her voice, she stood on the verge of declaring with Gwendolen,“ If I have not talent enough to make it worth while... I shall never sing again.” And then she was reminded that “a man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for.”

Not only did DD address my own ambition to sing, the ending chapters also reminded of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnet from the Portuguese #6. I've long loved the cerebral, moral and spiritual relationship portrayed in this sonnet and desired to write of such a relationship myself. But in many ways it could only be achieved in a Victorian novel. To say that George Eliot has written a novel perfectly realizing the themes of this sonnet would be both an injustice to George Eliot's realistic understanding of human nature and to Elizabeth Barrett 's passionate outpourings over Robert Browning.

Firstly, Gwendolen is not Daniel's moral equal. Up until the very end Gwendolen views Daniel only in relation to herself, never thinking of his feelings and concerns. Nor is their relationship half so “romantic” as Andrew Davies' adaptation has made some believe. And yet the last interview between Daniel and Gwendolen, in both the novel and the BBC series, reminded me immediately of my favorite love sonnet of all time.

VI. Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,
Without the sense of that which I forbore -
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.



And because my soul is bound to the soul of Robert Browning...almost as if he were my own Deronda figure... and because I always associate this poem with my own longings after great artistic ability in song... here is an excerpt from that piece of painful perfection which is “Andrea del Sarto”.

I do what many dream of, all their lives,
—Dream? strive to do, and agonize to do,
And fail in doing. I could count twenty such
On twice your fingers, and not leave this town,
Who strive—you don’t know how the others strive
To paint a little thing like that you smeared
Carelessly passing with your robes afloat,—
Yet do much less, so much less, Someone says,
(I know his name, no matter)—so much less!
Well, less is more, Lucrezia: I am judged.
There burns a truer light of God in them,
In their vexed beating stuffed and stopped-up brain,
Heart, or whate’er else, than goes on to prompt
This low-pulsed forthright craftsman’s hand of mine.
Their works drop groundward, but themselves, I know,
Reach many a time a heaven that’s shut to me,
Enter and take their place there sure enough,
Though they come back and cannot tell the world.
My works are nearer heaven, but I sit here.
The sudden blood of these men! at a word—
Praise them, it boils, or blame them, it boils too.
I, painting from myself and to myself,
Know what I do, am unmoved by men’s blame
Or their praise either. Somebody remarks
Morello’s outline there is wrongly traced,
His hue mistaken; what of that? or else,
Rightly traced and well ordered; what of that?
Speak as they please, what does the mountain care?
Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what’s a heaven for?

Obviously I've oversimplified this great novel appallingly and I recognize dozens of fascinating areas to be explored. I just don't have the time to edit all my outpourings over this novel into something more coherent, but must pay it some tribute here.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that “the first challenge you face when writing about Pride and Prejudice is to get through your first sentences without saying ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged…’”

And there, with a little quote from Martin Amis, I’ve taken care of that prerequisite to this post.

Is there any felicity in the world superior to rereading a beloved book? I'm not sure how many times before I've read P&P, but it is a book which must always be read with delight and no less fascination because one knows the plot perfectly.

My views on Elizabeth Bennet are perhaps the most altered. Of course Lizzy is one of the world's most universally loved heroines and I'm far from ceasing to love her. Indeed, I think I love and respect her more because I recognize better than before the strength of her faults. Certainly, in comparison to her mother and sisters she is a model of propriety and one wonders what exactly it is that makes her and Jane so much less vulgar, although they have received little more direction than their other sisters. This http://www.jasna.org/persuasions/on-line/vol22no1/ellwood.html article cites Doris T. Robin in deducing “that initially Mr. Bennet was an actively involved father, drawn to little Jane by her beauty, serene benevolence, and self-discipline (conspicuously like and unlike her mother), and drawn even more to little Elizabeth by her quick intelligence (very like his own). In the early days, he would also have been supported by hope that the crucially necessary boy was just around the corner.  Robin holds that it is thanks to his involvement that the first two daughters thrived and became secure personalities, in spite of their hopelessly childish mother.”

But Elizabeth, with all her virtues, is a Bennet sister. Her easy prejudice and pride, in so easily discerning a character on first impressions, is well known. She is also easily infatuated with Mr. Wickham, and her behavior, unintentionally, is too forward to Mr. Darcy. Most interesting are her father's words to her after the announcement of her engagement. “I know that you could be neither happy nor respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband; unless you looked up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape discredit and misery.” Here we see something fascinating. Perhaps Elizabeth could never be so vulgar and entirely heedless and unthinking as Lydia; as her father declares, she has something of quickness about her. But this pronouncement is still strangely disturbing. What would have happened to Elizabeth if she had considered practicality and married Mr. Collins? Probably something very ill, though I cannot quite conjecture what. But certain it is that a man like Mr. Darcy, whom she can respect, is as necessary to Elizabeth's good character as she is to his recognition of his selfishness and pride.

Of course in looking at Mr. Bennet's sobering words to Lizzy, one should not ignore his own utter culpability in the degradation and disgrace of his family. He has been softened in the film versions ( http://www.jasna.org/persuasions/on-line/vol27no2/seeber.htm ) but Mr. Bennet is a character almost as reprehensible as Mrs. Younge (the woman who facilitates Georgiana and Wickham's elopement). Yet Austen writes of him in a manner which decrees that like Elizabeth, we must continue to love him, even while acknowledging those points in which he has been negligent.

It's fascinating to view the way practical concerns – namely money – were so much a part of thoughts about marriage in those days. Charlotte Lucas I condemn less than I ever have, despite the revolting nature of marrying without respect. However, Lizzy would have turned out worse than Charlotte or Mr. Bennet in such a situation.

But Elizabeth’s refusal of Mr. Collins hardly brands her a poster girl for romantics. She has several experiences where she knows her feelings could be deepened into love, but she exercises control over her own feelings. Even after acknowledging her feelings for Darcy to herself she can decide, “If he is satisfied with only regretting me, I shall soon cease to regret him at all.” Mr. Darcy can actually afford to be more romantic than Elizabeth. With his fortune he could not easily expect a refusal from a girl with no better prospects, so there was on that head no reason to repress his feelings.

In conclusion, P&P is the story of how Elizabeth escapes a dysfunctional* family, but also makes choices to ensure that she does not perpetuate the shame that seems to be her birthright. As stated before, without Darcy, Elizabeth would degenerate. This is what makes P&P one of the great love stories of all time - not dramatic declarations of the impossibility of living apart, nor the fairy-tale aspect of “the poor girl gets a prince” - no, it’s how Darcy and Elizabeth grow, learn of themselves and become better people because of their love. Still, one can't ignore the question of what would have happened to Elizabeth if not for Mr. Darcy. There's a certain fascination in what is undoubtedly a macabre prospect.

And yet it must never for a moment be forgotten that Jane Austen does not write of dysfunctional families with pathos, but rather with keen and biting irony. Her novels teach us to declare with Elizabeth, “Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me and I laugh at them whenever I can.”

This is the charm and power of P&P. It can be considered a morality play, with a self-respecting, yet thoroughly human heroine, delivered through the medium of laughter. For who of us who love Elizabeth do not dearly love to laugh?


(* dysfunctional not to the stringent, violent or abusive degree we may understand that word today, but certainly to a degree which is morally negligent and reprehensible and brings shame and lasting unhappiness to the family.)

And a final interesting quote:
“In Pride and Prejudice, everything about Elizabeth—her poverty, her inferior social position, the behaviour of her family, her initial preference for Wickham, and her refusal of Darcy’s first offer of marriage—all these things ideologically should lead if not to death, at best to genteel poverty and spinsterhood.”
Karen Newman, “Can this marriage be saved:  Jane Austen makes sense of an ending,”

A new year had barely started when on January 8, 2011, The Wall Street Journal published what may well have become its most controversial article of the year. Entitled “Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior” it began by reminding Western parents of the common stereotype of the Asian prodigy child by stating, “A lot of people wonder how Chinese parents raise such stereotypically successful kids. They wonder what these parents do to produce so many math whizzes and music prodigies...”

The author, Yale Law School professor, Amy Chua, then proceeded to uncover the Asian-prodigy secret, explaining how she had raised her daughters. The things her daughters were not allowed to do included attend a sleepover, be in a school play, watch TV or play computer games, choose their own extra curricular activities, get any grade less than an A, not be the top student in all subjects, or play any instrument other than the piano or violin. Furthermore, playing an instrument in the Chua family meant practicing about three hours on school days, not to mention weekends and holidays, which were regarded as extra time to get ahead of their peers.

But it was the story of a piano piece called “The Little White Donkey” that officially branded the article controversial. Chua told how she had forced her seven year-old daughter to practice a piano piece late into the night, without breaks for dinner, water or even the washroom. The practicing was punctuated by Chua yelling threats and her daughter tearing up the sheet music, only to have it taped together again. But, as far as Chua was concerned, such matches between herself and her daughter, which only increased in frequency and virulence, were ultimately worth it, because there was a world full of other prodigies out there who her daughters must work tirelessly to rival.

The article provoked plenty of response, and doubtless served its purpose in promoting Chua's book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. The responses streamed in from the horrified, who declared Chua's methods abusive, from the, well... abusive... who sent Chua death threats, the heartily commendatory, and the apologists who reminded everyone that the memoir had an element of self-parody. Many acknowledged that too many youth have lost the work ethic of other generations and cultures, which had to struggle against greater odds to succeed. But most still expressed a need for a balance of parental discipline and drive with self-expression, independence and freedom.

But few, of course, have examined this vigorous drive for success from a Christian, and more specifically, Adventist, perspective, which I here aim to do.

Firstly, the Bible seems to support a rigorous work ethic. The writings of Solomon are filled with condemnations of slothfulness and injunctions of parental discipline for foolish youth. Solomon also enjoins his readers, “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.” In another verse he assures us of the success which will attend such efforts, “Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings; he shall not stand before mean men.” Certainly Biblical Christianity is a high incentive for the diligent improvement of time and talents.

But Christianity also raises the concern of pride inherent in constant competition to be the best. The apostle Paul instructed the Philippians, “Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves. Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.” Certainly this would preclude the attitude Chua espouses that it is a failure when someone else comes out above you. The Christian recognizes that their worth comes, not from what they can do, but from their status as a child of God. Yet this will produce in them a spirit of love to God and others which will produce diligent, but unselfish, effort.

The Christian also cannot seek success at all costs because there is only one thing which is worth the giving up of all else. “Our Redeemer is the pearl so precious that in comparison all things else may be accounted loss.” Christ Object Lessons p. 115

Violin virtuoso, Jaime Jorge, is an example of someone pushed towards excellence by his mother, yet with higher principles than self aggrandizement. At the age of nine, standing before a panel of accomplished judges, he was given the opportunity to go abroad to study music and represent Cuba through his music. But with one condition - that he would declare he did not believe in God. “Instantly,” he said, “I remembered my parents telling me that 'it is better to obey God, rather than men'. I knew what my response would be.” Doubtless, his parents who had sacrificed much to give him a musical education, were proud to know that their son had also developed such a strong faith and independence of mind. He had his priorities straight, and God later opened the way for him to minister to others through music, while making his faith a central part of his performances.

In conclusion, Ellen White stated in Child Guidance p.164 the reason that the Christian must strive for excellence. “Our first duty to God and our fellow beings is in self-development. Every faculty with which the Creator has endowed us should be cultivated to the highest degree of perfection, that we may be able to do the greatest amount of good of which we are capable.”


Note:
The didactic tone of this post stems from this being a badly-edited version of a school essay. Despite my apparent confidence, I'm the last person in the world who should write with any authority on this subject. I'm a struggling Christian, a lazy daughter and student and a mediocre musician. But I still have an opinion and now you've read it. ;) To show the irony of this post, maybe I'll post my essay on "How to Cultivate Laziness " - a topic on which I have much expertise. However, I don't have any readers, so...