redwooding

My main account got @-ed on this scam (no I won't say which one), and it occurred to me that some of the people here might not realize this is a scam.

Why do so many people think this? Because Anne's strange. She's really, really original, different, and awesome. Her originality sadly fades as the novels progress, but early on she takes a creative view of the world.

She wouldn't normally need swearing. You know how a few people are so creative in their criticisms and insults, so it sounds like swearing, but isn't? That would be Anne. She'd only swear if if her mind shut down out of shock or frustration.

The 400s BC were when the religious and philosophical transformation called the Axial Age kicked into full gear. This century saw the origins of Buddhism, Jainism, and Confucianism, as well as the height of classical Greece, with philosophers such as Socrates.

As mentioned in earlier posts, state-based religions before this time, as in ancient Egypt, Assyria, and Babylon, hadn’t been centred primarily on ideas or ethical precepts. The existence of gods was a given, and you wanted them to do good things (e.g., send rain when needed, grant victory against enemies) and not bad things to you (e.g. cause natural disasters). The gods were not necessarily moral; what mattere was that they were powerful. Rituals and sacrifices to show the gods proper respect, deference or worship were how to appease them. Historian Bret Deveareaux’s posts on practical polytheism are better at getting into this than I am:

In the 400s BC, new ideas challenged this kind of religion. Buddhism and Jainism were specifically opposed to the rituals and animal sacrifices that were the core of much Vedic religious practice, as well as to the caste hierarchy that reserved the highest religious positions for Brahmin priests. Instead, Jainism redefined sacrifice as ethical living (e.g., doing no harm to other living beings; honesty; celibacy; renunciation of property; self-control); Buddhism said that following more or less the same list of ethical precepts was what made someone a Brahmin. This set them apart from the earlier Vedic Upanishads which, while reducing the emphasis on sacrifice, had not rejected it. Their goals were not material but spiritual: release from the cycle of bodily reincarnation. This was a transformation of what religion meant.

Not all the new religions and philosophies went as far. Confucianism, for example, regarded adherence to rituals and sacrifices as part of a moral life, and considered hierarchies – between ruler and subject, parent and child, husband and wife – foundational to society. But its focus was still centred on presenting a framework for ethical behaviour and principles that would lead to a good society, and on making the case for its own precepts relative to other philosophies, and that was new. Most religion prior to this time hadn’t been a matter of opinion; now people discussed and debated competing ideas about what made a good life and a good society. The teachings of all these religions and philosophies included debates or anecdotes where their founders contested with adherents of other belief systems: Socrates with other Greek philosophers; Hinduism (or Vedism), Buddhism, and Jainism with each other; Confucianism with Mohism (adherents of another Chinese philosopher, Mo Zi).

And the founders and adherents of these Axial religions and philosophies considered these ideas and principles worth suffering or dying for. Jains practised extreme asceticism, eating minimally and going naked. Jain texts describe Mahavira, founder of Jainism, being attacked and beaten, having things thrown at him, having dogs set on him. Buddhism was not as heavily ascetic, but that mostly meant you could eat and wear clothes - serious seeking of enlightenment still involved giving up all possessions and status and familial connections and begging for your food. Socrates was famously executed for his philosophical teachings. Confucians and Mohists spent their lives trying to convince rulers to listen to them, often with little success, rather than tell rulers what they wanted to hear.

Finally, it’s notable that the ruler wasn’t the central figure for any of these religions or philosophies, unlike the religions of, say, ancient Egypt or ancient Babylon. For Socrates being a philosopher was the best thing anyone could do with their life; for Buddhism and Jainism, being a property-less renunciate was best; for Confucianism, the central moral figure was generally the wise advisor to a king, more than the king himself. 

So despite substantial differences between, say, Confucianism and Buddhism, all of these ideas had more in common with each other than they did with anything that had come before them.

Now it’s time to get more into the political, social, and economic contexts within which these ideas were formed.

———-

In Greece, much of this century was the golden age of Athens, beginning with Greece’s successful repulsion of two successive Persian invasions (in 490 BC at the Battle of Marathon, and 480-479 BC at the battles of Salamis and Plateia) and ending with Athens’ loss to Sparta in the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BC). In the time between those wars, Athens was politically dominant within Greece. It had democratic government, built the Parthenon, and had a flourishing intellectual and artistic culture, including plays by Aeschylus, Aristophanes, and Sophocles. During the Peloponnesian War the situation became more fraught, with Athenian democracy being overthrown and restored not once but twice. Athenians defined their democratic political identity in contrast to the powers surrounding them: triumphantly in response to fighting off Persians, or doubtingly in response to defeat by Sparta. 

In China, it was a time of frequent conflict, known as the Warring States period. One of the main states from the previous century split apart in civil war, while other states conquered neighbouring ones. The main question politically and philosophically was how to get back to the stability of earlier times. At the same time, it was a period of intellectual flourishing. Literacy increased substantially, as did the volume of texts, generally written with brush and ink on wooden or bamboo strips. Writings included both new ideas and commentaries on older texts. Freelance intellectuals, philosophers, and political advisors sought rulers who would heed them, and rulers sought new ideas that could give them an edge. The principal philosophers of this kind were Confucius and Mo Zi. Confucius advocated ruling by example: if rulers behaved with virtue, benevolence, and dignity, the people would follow. His ideas of society were hierarchical, but also advocated for appointment to government office based on virtue, not birth. He considered both orderly, hierarchical familial relationships and observance of ritual to be foundational to society. Mo Zi was something like an ancient utilitarian: he advocated against wars, luxurious living, and complex rituals on the basis that they were a waste of money that could be used in more economically productive ways, and (though not opposing class hierarchies) argued that people should care about everyone equally, not putting their own family or nation first.

In practice, both Confucius and Mo Zi struggled to gain traction with rulers, although they attracted disciples. From the harshness of the legal codes promulgated during this time, most rulers preferred to rule by force and fear rather than virtuous example. At least part of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War (which may in fact have had multiple authors) was written during this time. It was a time of military changes: the chariot passed out of fashion and was replaced by mounted cavalry (picked up from China’s nomadic neighbours). Another new invention, the crossbow, could be mass-produced in standard forms and was faster to train archers on than other bows. The core of the military was massed infantry armies on an unprecedented scale for the region.

In India, the Buddhist and Jain religions focused on spiritual rather than material goals, and similar renunciates existed within Hinduism and other religious and philosophical systems. Like the changes in Greece and China, this may have been in response to the particular political dynamics there. The state of Magadha, in the east-central Ganges valley, was increasing its power and conquering its neighbours. The proliferation of ideas centring on a return to the forests (associated with non-state people) may have come out of a rejection of the comparatively new situations of warring states, urbanization, and growing wealth divides. The first coinage in the Ganges valley dates from this period, likely adopted via Persian influence.

Persia, for its part, remained the dominant power in Western Asia. Its repulsion by Greece early in the century, though greatly important to the Greeks, was for the Persians probably comparable to the Vietnam War for Americans: costly and embarrassing, but not a threat to its place as a major power. Egypt rebelling against Persia and gaining independence at the end of the century (during a period of a power struggle for the Persian throne) was probably a larger blow, but was followed by a restoration of stability and Persian strength.

——-

One signal of how much more interconnected the world was becoming comes from Herodotus’ Histories, written in this century. He recounts that the Phoenicians had circumnavigated Africa; while this is very unlikely (it was only in the AD 1400s that the Portuguese figured out how to negotiate the currents and winds to journey northward around the western hump of Africa), he mentions a difference the sailors observed in the position of the sun that matches what they would actually see if they were in the southern hemisphere. So someone in contact with the Greek world had been to the southern hemisphere by the 400s BC – likely the coast of Tanzania or Kenya. Herodotus was also aware of India, but had rather fantastical ideas about it, like gold being mined by giant ants; and he had no knowledge of China.

We’ll wrap up with the Americas. In Mesoamerica, one of the big events was the founding of the Zapotec city of Monte Albán at the start of the century. It appears at basically the same time that San José Mogoté disappears, and with basically the same cultural characteristics, giving the strong impression that the people of San José Mogote – possibly in confederation with former rivals – picked up and moved to a new and more defensible location. Monte Albán was sited in a strategic location, on a flat-topped mesa where the three arms of the Oaxaca Valley met, and over the following centuries would rise to dominate the whole Oaxaca region. Carvings from this period at Monte Albán include stelae (large stone pillars) with writing on them, and with dates that indicate the Zapotecs were using the 365-day solar calendar and the 260-day ritual calendar in combination with each other.

At the same time as Monte Albán was rising in power, the Olmecs declined; the 400s BC mark the end of their long period of preeminence in Mesoamerica. The 400s BC were likewise the last century of the Chavín culture’s influence in Peru. The reasons for both of these shifts are unclear.

While Chavín declined, the site of Pukara, in Peru’s southern highlands near Lake Titicaca, rose. It appears to have militarily defeated its rivals around 400 BC. It was a substantial settlement, with large platform mounds topped by sunken courts and involving decorative stonecarving in animal shapes. The combination of a large population, architectural scale, economic inequality (indicated by different groups having different sizes of residences) and military power indicates it was the capital of a state. 

Around the same time, the Paracas culture, predecessor of the Nazca, was prominent on Peru’s southern coast. Its people built platform mounds, and mummified dead elites in a seated position wrapped in intricate and colourful cotton textiles; a fabric fragment is shown below (source: Metropolitan Museum of Art).

I'm a realist, and so was Jane Austen; no one romantic will like this answer:

The couples, who are in love, lack birth control, and believe children are a gift from God, will have as many children as their fertility allows. The average in the era for a gentry family was 6.7 children. Anne Elliot, who may not always be able to travel with her husband, may have bigger gaps as a navy wife (I always have speculated that Mrs. Croft's one time away from her husband was because she was pregnant and maybe miscarried.)

As for names, Jane Austen adheres pretty closely to naming children after their parents, in almost every case where we know the parents' names and then using other very common names for the era. So it's going to be a whole crowd of Elizabeths, Annes, and Marys, Charleses, Johns, and Williams. The most exciting you'll get is a mother's maiden name being used as a boy's first name (like Fitzwilliam Darcy) and maybe Marianne Brandon using names from poetry.

Catherine Morland is the eldest daughter of ten (NA)

The Musgroves (P) and Lucases (P&P) seem to have very large families, but not all children are named. We know Charlotte Lucas has multiple brothers and sisters from the text, including Lucas Wine Boy. The Middletons in S&S I think have quite a few children already and they wouldn't be done.

The Bennet girls are so close I don't think it's possible to have deceased siblings between them. It's possible there were miscarriages or otherwise after Lydia. We do know of one stillborn, Sir Walter's son from Persuasion and we know of a single deceased sibling, Mary from Mansfield Park.

Secondary infertility would have been more common without medical intervention. We also know that couples who didn't marry for love did stick to that addage of "a heir and a spare" which may explain some of the smaller families.

There is actually a huge range of fertility among the gentry in Austen's works: Mrs. Morland, ten children; Mrs. Price, nine; Mrs. Musgrove, at least six, maybe seven; Mrs. Bennet, five; Mrs. Gardiner, Lady Middleton, and Lady Bertram, four (yes, Lady M. may not be done); the late Mrs. Tilney, the late Lady Elliot, the unmentioned Mrs. Wentworth (Frederick and Sophie's mom), Mrs. Dashwood, and the unmentioned Countess ___ (Mrs. Fitzwilliam), three; Lady Anne Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mary Elliot Musgrove, the late Mrs. Woodhouse, the unmentioned Mrs. Knightley, and the barely mentioned Mrs. Crawford, two (though Mary M. probably isn't done); and Fanny Dashwood, Lady Susan Vernon, and Charlotte Lucas, one (true - it's only Charlotte's first).

What could explain this wide range in Austen's novels? Fertility restriction was in fact beginning at the time among English elites, partly because English mortality started to lower in the 1730s or 1750 (depending on who you ask). The overall English birthrate peaked by 1805, then started to go down; elites led this change. The big drop started around 1880, many decades later, but this was population-wide, not elite.

Physically, how?

Probably "French letters," i.e., condoms. Wikipedia says they were widely used in Europe by 1800:

"In the 18th century, condoms were available in a variety of qualities and sizes, made from either linen treated with chemicals, or 'skin' (bladder or intestine softened by treatment with sulfur and lye).  They were sold at pubs, barbershops, chemist shops, open-air markets, and at the theater throughout Europe and Russia. They later spread to America, although in every place there were generally used only by the middle and upper classes, due to both expense and lack of sex education."

(See the History section.)

While they were mostly considered ways to prevent disease, Casanaova (yes, that Casanova) used them specifically for birth control. He could not possibly be the only person who thought this.

Anyone in the gentry could afford to buy them. Were they as good as they are now? No. They were more breakable. Still, widespread use suggests that they were still pretty good.

So I question the "no birth control" idea. There was some, however imperfect it was.

Also, Thomas Malthus (1798) specifically mentions birth control in limiting population; he was against it. There was a debate about this, though in public most were on Malthus's side, while some members of the elite in practice were using it in private. And that is a way to begin answering Anonymous's question.

Some couples would have been against it, some for. It's significant that Mrs. Morland has ten children; Mr. Morland is a clergyman (as was Malthus). Mr. Price? Limit his own pleasure? Hell, no. (And he probably can't afford them.) The Musgroves are specifically called old-fashioned in their furniture choices; this might apply in other areas of life. The Bennets really, really want a boy. After that, we might see some purposeful limitation, or yes, stillbirths, miscarriages, and spousal deaths might well be operating. Three children seems to be on purpose, and there were several families of them in the above list. Two kids is definitely on purpose. (There were something like twelve years between Fitzwilliam's and Georgiana's births. George and Anne Darcy were not doing it in those twelve years, and then suddenly started? Possible, but doubtful. French letters make more sense, especially a broken one after twelve years.)

So to answer it directly, a little speculation is in order. I will infer that family of origin size and political / religious stance will influence any attempt to limit fertility. That leads to this set of guesses:

Fanny and Edmund: lots of kids. But will this kill her? Maybe fewer.

Elinor and Edmund: maybe a lot.

The Brandons: dunno.

Catherine and Henry: She would probably want more than he would. (He's not a typically moralistic clergyman.)

The Darcys: 3-4.

The Wentworths: 2. Yes, Anne's period of fertility is shortened, and if anyone knows about French letters, it's a naval captain.

The Knightleys: two.

Could the inference that family of origin would influence numbers of children be wrong? Yes. Moral / political stance, sense of tradition, and other such factors might be more important.

I made some remarks based on this post, about how marriage for a woman in that era wasn't just about choosing a partner, but about choosing the master of your life, both legally and spiritually, whom you would be expected to obey. So choosing a man whom you didn't respect, and who obviously wasn't worthy of respect, was a much bigger deal than just "He'll never make you happy."

But another commentator disagreed with me, pointing out that mercenary marriages with no thought of love or respect took place all the time in the Regency era. In their point of view, Elizabeth is just upset that her best friend doesn't find Mr. Collins as repulsive as she does herself.

That made me think of how @bethanydelleman has complained that the adaptations almost always portray Mr. Collins as older and more physically off-putting than the character in the book, who is a young man (younger than Charlotte, in fact) and who is only ridiculous in personality, not in looks. This creates the sense that Elizabeth's objection to marrying him, and to Charlotte marrying him, is more visceral and less objective than Austen meant it to be.

I wonder if that other commentator on YouTube was thinking mainly of the adaptations, because "Elizabeth is upset that Charlotte doesn't find Mr. Collins as repulsive as she does" sounds like a very visceral interpretation of her feelings.

"It was a long time before [Elizabeth] became at all reconciled to the idea of so unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins’s making two offers of marriage within three days was nothing in comparison of his being now accepted. She had always felt that Charlotte’s opinion of matrimony was not exactly like her own; but she could not have supposed it possible that, when called into action, she would have sacrificed every better feeling to worldly advantage. Charlotte, the wife of Mr. Collins, was a most humiliating picture! And to the pang of a friend disgracing herself, and sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction that it was impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot she had chosen."

I think the text does support OP's point - I think. Here are Charlotte's thoughts on the matter, in Austen's famous free indirect discourse:

"Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had gained her point, and had time to consider of it. Her reflections were in general satisfactory. Mr. Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible nor agreeable: his society was irksome, and his attachment to her must be imaginary. But still he would be her husband. Without thinking highly either of men or of matrimony, marriage had always been her object: it was the only honourable provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, and, however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest preservative from want. This preservative she had now obtained; and at the age of twenty-seven, without having ever been handsome, she felt all the good luck of it."

Not sensible, not agreeable, irksome, and an imaginary love for her. Yeah, I think Charlotte knows full well who he is. And it's quite possible that Elizabeth can tell this.

It's certainly mercenary, but we get Charlotte's opinion of marriage (foreshadowing?) after the Meryton assembly: "Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance." And Elizabeth seems to have forgotten that Charlotte said this.

Lately, however, a university education is so expensive, and so many people are having so much trouble paying off loans, that people are questioning whether it's worth it. They have good reason to question it.

And the answer is, we don't.

The unhoused people who come here seeking refuge 99% of the time understand that they will be kicked out if they misbehave.

The people you have to watch out for are Jessica, who only came because the kid she didn't want had to visit for a homework assignment and she just *needs* to yell at her child for asking to borrow two books or stay an extra five minutes, or Michael, who came in to look at porn on our computers for whatever fucking reason, or Karen who just wanted to come by to throw a fit that the particular book she wanted was checked out and harrass our staff about our collection being too limited.

And we did what we could to help. He was incredibly kind and patient despite his obvious anxiety and stress, more than most able bodied, housed patrons are to us under much less dire conditions. I liked knowing that we were the first place he came.

We have so many people like this who come in everyday. Many are quiet and keep to themselves, but sometimes they talk to us.

They tell us about how they're taking a few courses on a scholarship they applied for from our library's computer at the local community college to get their diploma. Or ask about a manga or dvd or book we might have to help them pass the time.

One woman, who comes in daily with her tattered walker always says hello to me and likes to work on the new jigsaw puzzle with me when we set one out.

So like, treat unhoused people like people. Treat disabled people like people. I don't want my library to feel like the only safe space in the world, but I'm glad it can be one of them.

Being agreeable never did a woman any good.

Did you read the novel???

Still, the tagline is perfect for the character of Marianne, right up to the point that it isn't. And then it's 100% wrong for the rest of the story, which is most of the story.

Canon Mary could have made a very interesting, flawed yet likable heroine: a girl who, yes, has terrible parents, and, yes, is sympathetically insecure and desperate for attention because of her plain looks and middle child status, but who copes in a misguided way, by isolating herself from her sisters (not vice-versa) and by trying too hard to style herself as 'the smart and accomplished one," which only makes her come across as a pretentious know-it-all. Yet we would see her eventually mature, overcome her insecurities, and outgrow that pretentious behavior. Austen loved flawed heroines who mature and become better people by the end – Mary could have been an excellent example of that type of heroine.

Yet here I am, tenured.

On the one hand, he does have a Ph.D. in 18th-century English history from UCLA. His reading would have spilled over into the early 19th century.