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Content FEMINIST HOPE IN THE NOVELS OF JANE AUSTEN
by
Susan Kneedler
A D issertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In P a rtia l Fulfillm ent of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(English)
May 1987
Copyright 1987 Susan Kneedler
UMI Num ber: DP23121
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This dissertation, written by
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E
D O C TO R OF PHILOSOPHY
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Date
DISSERTATION COMMITTEE
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i i
To Susan Morgan
i i i
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments......................................................................................iv
P r e f a c e ............................................ v
Introduction: Visionary Concern and Hope ............................................. 1
Part I: Exploring through F o r m .................................................................... 74
Chapter 1: Reimagining L o v e ........................................................ 75
Chapter 2: Sympathy and the S e l f ...................................112
Chapter 3: Hie Veiled Fulfillm ents ...................................... 153
Part II: The Beginnings of D isc o v e ry ......................................................... 201
Chapter 4: Family Heritage in Sense and S e n sib ility
and Mansfield P a r k ......................................202
Chapter 5: The Leading Characters and Sisterhood in
Northanger Abbey and Emma ...............................263
Chapter 6: Beyond the Legacy of the Father in
P rid e and P re ju d ic e and P ersu asio n . . . 310
Bibliography ............................................................................................................ 368
Acknowledgments
I am g r a t e f u l to many people fo r t h e i r enthusiasm and help
w ith t h i s t h e s i s . But I give s p e c ia l thanks to my te a c h e rs Susan
Morgan and Paul Alkon, to G ail M elikian and Anne Erhard, to my
p a re n ts Jane and Robert K needler, and to my husband C h risto p h er
Highley.
My Austen r e fe r e n c e s are to R. W . Chapman's e d i t i o n s , Oxford
U n iv e rs ity P re ss: N ovels, 3d ed. (1932-3*0; Minor Works (1954);
L e tt e r s 2d ed., c o rre c te d r e p r i n t (1959). I have used the u su a l
abbreviations: .
N A Northanger Abbey
SS Sense and S en sib ility
PP Pride and Prejudice
M P Mansfield Park
E Emma
P Persuasion
M W Minor Works
L Letters
Preface
In t h i s p r o j e c t , I argue t h a t Austen wrote no v els concerned
about women, no v els we can a p p r o p r i a t e l y c a l l f e m in is t f i c t i o n .
Her books focus on the problems and e f f o r t s o f women. They
c h a lle n g e u su a l ways o f seein g and t r e a t i n g women, and p o in t to
more h e a lth y , f e m in is t v is io n s . I want to begin w ith a b r i e f
d e s c r i p t i o n o f what th e no v els a re . The S iste rh o o d n o v e ls,
Northanger Abbey and Emma, concern happy women who m ista k e n ly
suppose th a t there i s nothing wrong with the position of women in a
p atria rc h a l culture. At f i r s t absorbed in reductive fantasies of
l i f e , they must learn the necessity, the urgency, of sisterhood and
f e l lo w - f e e l i n g among women. C atherine Morland s u f f e r s from
Isab ella Thorpe's lack of sympathy, but unintentionally o ffers the
same carelessness to Eleanor Tilney because of her obsession with
gothic icons. Emma Woodhouse, a fraid of a friendship of equality
with Jane Fairfax, uses H arriet Smith for her own purposes, taking
advantage of the younger woman's i n f e r i o r i t y o f t a l e n t and
knowledge. Meanwhile she s lig h ts Miss Bates and ignores the pain
of Jane Fairfax. Partly through th e ir love for two men who value
vi
f e l l o w - f e e l i n g , C ath erin e and Emma le a r n to i d e n t i f y w ith ,
sympathize with, and care for other women.
The Family H eritage n o v e l s , Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y and
M ansfield Park, look a t the problem of focus and e x p re ssio n fo r
women in a culture which does not think women are important. Not
only are t h e i r needs not met, but they are i n v i s i b l e because the
women themselves remain v irtu a lly unseen. As Austen presents i t ,
t h i s is not a p e rso n a l f a i l i n g o f the p r o ta g o n is ts , but is a
problem of the culture a t large. Elinor Dashwood and Fanny Price
are women c o n tin u a lly under th r e a t from a h o stile , unsympathetic
world. Both must struggle to hold together any in te g rity of s e lf,
a freedom from v i o l a t i o n which o th e r c h a r a c te r s have d i f f i c u l t y
respecting. Austen presents th is , too, as an issue of sisterhood.
Both leading characters are continually victimized by the lack of
i t in Marianne Dashwood and Mary Crawford, as w e ll as in Lucy
Steele, Fanny Dashwood, Maria and Ju lia Bertram. Neither are they
n u rtu re d by th e fem ale a u t h o r it y f ig u r e s , Mrs. Dashwood, Mrs.
F e r r a r s , Mrs. N o rris, and Mrs. P r ic e , who ought to serv e as
m entors. E lin o r, under c o n tin u a l a t t a c k from o th e r people, i s ,
through h e ro ic e f f o r t s , a b le to speak fo r h e r s e l f du rin g c r i s e s .
She must s u f f e r , though, from o t h e r s ' u n w illin g n e s s to l i s t e n .
Fanny, attacked in yet more in tru siv e ways and threatened with more
im m ediate danger, i s not so s tro n g , can only b a re ly speak, but is
ju st as determined and v aliant as Elinor. She cannot say much, but
■vii
she fo rc e s her p e r s e c u to r s to h ear her meaning and r e s p e c t h e r
"No."
The P a tria r c h y n o v e ls, P rid e and P re ju d ic e and P e rsu a sio n ,
show th a t when culture is blindly and exclusively male in sp ite of
the palpable presence of another h alf of humanity, i t may properly
be represented as the work of fath ers. Of course th is is not a new
fo rm u la tio n .# But c r i t i c s have not d isc u sse d i t s r e l a t i o n to
A usten’s th ought. P rid e and P re ju d ic e and P e rsu asio n both open
with the father's fav o rite a c tiv ity and both dramatize how women
must liv e with the consequences of the c u ltu re ’s mistakes—imaged
through the f a i le d f ig u r e of the f a t h e r . With both E liz a b e th
Bennet and Anne E llio t, the two second-oldest daughters among the
p r o ta g o n is ts in A usten's f i c t i o n , the fa m ily e s t a t e w i l l go to a
male co u sin r a t h e r to th em selv es and t h e i r s i s t e r s . E liz a b e th ,
attem pting to cope with the cu ltu re's view of her insignificance as
a fem ale, le a r n s to ape h er f a t h e r 's disengagem ent, hoping to be
accepted as what Carolyn G. H eilbrun c a l l s an "honorary man."
E liz a b e th uses s a t i r i c detachm ent to d is g u is e and escape her
unimportance in the culture. But she learns that such a r e tr e a t is
only s e lf - d e c e p t i v e . For Austen, th e r e i s no such th in g as being
/
u n i n v o l v e d . What i s m ore, E l i z a b e t h has f a l l e n f o r th e
/
p a t r ia r c h y 's sto ck v i l l a i n and p r i n c ip l e b e n e f ic ia r y o f sexism :
the fortune-hunter who uses women for his own gain. Anne E llio t,
r i s i n g above E liz a b e th 's s e l f - d e f e a t i n g a tte m p t to r e t r e a t , i s
always engaged. But i t means suffering and feeling throughout her
v i i i
s to r y as E liz a b e th does through only th e l a s t h a l f o f h e rs. Both
p r o ta g o n is ts o r i g i n a l l y re fu s e the man they w i l l l a t e r marry?
/
Elizabeth does i t because she does not want to marry without love,
and Anne so as not to h u rt the p ro sp e c ts o f the person she lo v es.
/
Both must w a it and hope fo r a renew al or c o n tin u a tio n o f th e
b eloved's a f f e c t i o n . That s u s c e p t i b i l i t y , rendered through
E liz a b e th in term s o f in v o lv em en t, i s shown in Anne through th e
issue of persuadability.
These p i c t u r e s r a i s e new concerns fo r women and focus on
im p o rta n t f e m in i s t is s u e s , so we need to re-open the novels in
order to discuss th e ir p o litic s . There is one defense of Austen's
feminism now published, Margaret Kirkham's Jane Austen: Feminism
and F ic tio n , but i t is l i m i t e d by i t s p o r tr a y a l of Austen as a
• 1
"fem inist m oralist," who combines "a g lim p se o f som ething id e a l
and universal, together with a sharp, iro n ic awareness of how fa r
O
s h o r t we m ostly are o f i t . " Kirkham's em phasis on A usten's
co n n ectio n s to E n lightenm ent fem inism , e s p e c i a l l y t h a t o f Mary
W ollstonecraft, esta b lish es a context or ju s tif ic a tio n for calling
Austen " f e m in is t," but i t c o n c e n tr a te s on the lik e n e s s e s between
W o lls to n e c r a f t's id e a s and A usten's. As a r e s u l t , A usten's
o r i g i n a l i t y o f im a g in a tio n i s dim inished, and the novels treated
more l i k e t r e a t i s e s than works of a r t . Since Kirkham's book i s
prim arily comparative, with very short discussions of many of the
novels, more study i s necessary.
ix
To argue th a t Austen's books are fem inist is not to a ttrib u te
a 1980's co n scio u sn ess to an e a r ly n in e te e n th - c e n tu r y w r i t e r . I
le a rn e d much o f my fem inism from Austen in th e 1960's and 1970's.
In those days, when we were in sis tin g on work outside the home for
every woman, on the s a n c t i t y o f c a re e r b efo re every o th e r
c o n s id e r a tio n , I le a rn e d from Austen t h a t women a lre a d y do work
in s id e th e home. A woman's r i g h t to have two c a r e e r s in s te a d o f
one, y e t to be paid fo r only one, and d isc o u n t wages a t t h a t , does
no t mend m a tte rs . E a rly 1960's fem inism seemed to espouse fre e
sexuality instead of freedom; i t f e l t d i f f i c u l t for a woman to be
''lib e ra te d '' y e t e n t i t l e d to p r o te c t h e r s e l f . L ib e ra tio n became
j u s t a n o th er s e t o f commandments to f e e l g u i l t y about, a n o th e r
impossible standard to fear. Austen's novels show th a t we do not
need to change to be e n t i t l e d to make our own d e c is io n s , to be
w orth d e fe n d in g .^ They p o rtra y how women and men are e q u a lly
i n t e r e s t i n g r i g h t now— th e r e is no need fo r E liz a b e th Bennet to
/
grow up i n t o F it z w i l l i a m Darcy's world. Hunting i s no l a r g e r or
grander than embroidery or trimming bonnets, except th a t i t is less
constructive. Today fo o tb all is no more valid than shopping. So
many onlookers have f e l t th a t women must change, and usually that
means toward the male model, before we are e n title d to sympathy or
sisterhood. Feminism has grown so th a t, largely, th at is no longer
true. But for Austen i t never was.^
I believe th at i t is a n ti-fe m in ist to argue that we are more
developed fem inists today because women have now achieved equality.
X
/
Because we have not y e t achieved e q u a l i t y , because women's needs
and work are s t i l l not t r e a t e d as v a l i d , A usten's nov els can help
us w ith is s u e s we s tr u g g le to work out today. The books Austen
wrote can teach us about issues for which we are ju st beginning to
work out a p o l i t i c s . American fem inism i s now tra n sc e n d in g th e
sterotype of the career woman risin g up the corporate or academic
la d d e r as an unworthy male v e rs io n o f s u c c e s s — or f u l l y human
behavior. W e are seeing th at i t e n ta ils becoming token women, what
I 3
Heilbrun c a lls "honorary male.10 This is Elizabeth Bennet becoming
o
h e r f a t h e r , Lady C ath erin e bo ssin g everyone around. 1980's
/
fem inism i s r e j e c t i n g t h i s , as Austen did b efo re usV but in
escaping one trap may be choosing another. Many are now g lo rifying
with Carol G illigan the differences between women and men, the so-
c a lle d m a te rn a l or em otive i n s t i n c t s . What I th in k we need, and
what Austen can show u s, i s a fem inism which re c o g n iz e s t h a t
\ "excellence is p retty f a ir ly divided between the sexes." But even
more, we need to sto p founding our s e x u a lity on c u l t u r a l l y -
./
d eterm ined d if f e r e n c e s . We need to see the s i m i l a r i t i e s among
women and men, to recognize how pervasively id e n tic a l behaviors and
f e e l i n g s g e t c a lle d by d i f f e r e n t names. This i s the "he is
a s s e r t i v e , she i s a g g re s s iv e ," approach, and I b e lie v e we need to
work h a rd e r to c a l l women's and men's a c tio n s by equal names. As
others have said, "a man i s 'ru th le ss 1 i f he s te a ls a l l your money,
but a woman is 'r u t h l e s s ' i f she p u ts you on hold."
x i
This t h e s i s w i l l ex p lo re th e fem inism in A usten’s books by
recognizing that they are more complex than readers have allowed.
Simply put, her novels are constructed like mystery novels. They
provide us with many clues, moments related with a s tra ig h t face
which we cannot know how to evaluate on an early reading—without
many re a d in g s, and very c a r e f u l com parison. We must p u zzle over
them, a f te r we are informed about, for instance, John Willoughby’s
* /
selfish n e ss, learning to see the self-indulgence which provokes the
urge he shares with Marianne Dashwood to judge and cast o ff other
people. The freedom they want, which so many readers have defended
a s l i b e r a t i n g and r e v o l u t i o n a r y , i s a c t u a l l y a f a m i l i a r
conservatism, a bigotry of selfish n e ss which wants to be unfettered
by people who do not f u l f i l l th e ir rules. This is a freedom which
any of us, but also any child, may desire, a freedom which we must
fig h t i f we would escape tyranny—our own or anyone else's.
/
For i t is tyranny which wishes for a tid in e ss which would blot
out or c le a n away th e people who do not f i t our id e a s o f b eauty,
/ '
n e a tn e s s , or symmetry. Austen defends an u n tid y w orld, where we
must not tr y to o b l i t e r a t e what we do no t l i k e in o th e r people.
Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y shows us t h a t we have the r i g h t not to
conform to b ig o te d im p e ra tiv e s . I am arguing t h a t we need to
invent a new w illingness to wonder about the creations of a female
author. This may sound basic—too elementary. But there are many
elementary things we have neglected to do with female authors. W e
need to bring to Austen’s novels a new a tte n tio n and wonder because
x ii
readers have too long done her work in ju s tic e with snap conclusions
and a dism issive smugness: "We know a l l about her because we know
a l l about her time." Austen's works are lik e mystery novels in the
ways they demand continually renewed questioning precisely because
fem inism means t h a t we cannot know e v e ry th in g . W e have to be
prophets and v isio n aries, and we have to be open to wonder, because
/
we cannot proceed from p a tria rc h a l formulas for what we perceive.
/
W e have to keep "reinventing" our liv es instead.
xiii-
Notes
^Margaret Kirkham, Jane Austen, Feminism and Fiction (Totowa,
N .J.: Barnes & Noble, 1983), p. 93.
2Ib id ., p. 83.
^Carolyn G. Heilbrun, Reinventing Womanhood (New York: W . W .
Norton, 1979), p. 43.
Introduction
Visionary Concern and Hope
"Hope” is the thing with fe a th e rs—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—a t a l l —
—Emily Dickinson
Poem 254
There has long been a division among readers' responses to the
n o v els Jane Austen w rote. A usten's am ateur re a d e rs have been
e n t h u s i a s t i c a l l y devoted, w h ile maligned with the derisive label
"Janeites." Her professional re a d e rs have a l t e r n a t e d between th e
grudging estim ate of Austen as the "greatest woman novelist," and
t h a t t r a d i t i o n a l d e n i g r a t i o n o f h e r s u b j e c t a s p i t i f u l l y
circumscribed by the lim ited scope of her own l i f e , a depreciation
which exposes the lack of re a l regard im p lic it in "greatest woman"
anything. But both these stru ctu res for judging Austen are sex ist,
r e f l e c t i n g a p r i o r i a s se ssm e n ts about th e q u a l i t y o f women's
2
ex p erie n c e and in fu e n c e , which we now reco g n ize as u n f a i r and
outmoded. Recent r e a d e r s , p a r t i c u l a r l y Susan Morgan, Donald
1
Greene, and S tu a r t Tave, have argued t h a t Austen has im p o rta n t
subjects, and what is more, progressive ones.
But the overwhelm ing m a jo rity of re c e n t c r i t i c s p o r tr a y s
Austen a cco rd in g to old s te r e o ty p e s . M arx ist re a d e rs have
discussed Austen as a conservative who nevertheless was "a Marxist
b efo re Marx,”2 because h er n o v els are p o rtra y e d as re c o rd in g
h is to r ic a l progress although th e ir author personally stands against
i t . ^ Most f e m i n i s t c r i t i c s concur about A usten's supposed
c o n s e rv a tis m , but add a new in g r e d ie n t: how Austen b e tra y s her
fellow -wom en fo r the sake of men and m a le -o rie n te d r u le s . The
p e r s is te n c e o f th e se g e n e r a l i z a t i o n s su g g e sts t h a t we need to
return to Lionel T rillin g 's unfinished question and ask again why
we read her novels.
Most professional readers have implied th at we do i t because
we are p r is s y c o n s e rv a tiv e s f le e in g to a s m a ll, t i d y , "clip p ed "
w orld, where t r u t h is sure but i n s i g n i f i c a n t and a l l q u e s tio n s
neatly resolved. Recent c r i t i c s have allowed another reason: the
tracing of g re a te r h is to r ic a l streams in some background fa r beyond
the lim ited consciousnesses o f the lead c h a r a c te r s . Whatever i s
claim ed as c e n t r a l l y im p o rta n t, i t i s not A usten's women le a d s.
But i d e n t i f y i n g th e i n t e r e s t , p a r t i c u l a r l y th e p o l i t i c a l
significance, of Austen's work has confounded readers clinging to
fixed assumptions about her conservatism. I t seems to me, however,
3
t h a t th e p o l i t i c s o f A usten's novels has been ignored because th e
women s u b je c ts have been deemed u n im p o rta n t. Women's l i v e s , a t
l e a s t in much Austen c r i t i c i s m , have no t been g ra n te d p o l i t i c a l
s t a t u r e . We need to ask in a new frame what i s im p o rta n t about
A usten's v is io n o f her lead c h a r a c te r s and t h e i r n ovels. The
approach which I b e lie v e works b e s t i s a f e m in i s t one, fo r i t i s ,
of course, p rim arily concerned with the importance of women. But
c la r ific a tio n is necessary. Austen's novels are fem inist not only
because she w rites about women and how we are treated. Many non
f e m in is t w r i t e r s do t h a t , or many whom we co n sid e r f e m in is t not
through th e ir active e ffo rts but through some so rt of unconscious
su b v e rsio n . What I claim f o r A usten's n o v els i s an o v e r t, open
r e v i s i o n of th e ways we im agine women's im p o rtan ce. I want to
argue t h a t the d iscrep an cy among the c o n c lu sio n s of A usten's
v o lu n ta ry re a d e rs and most o f her paid ones, r e s u l t s from the
inadequacy of the terms by which most l i t e r a r y c r i t i c s have trie d
to understand her work.
There are two major recent forms of the standard c r i t i c a l view
th a t Austen is a conservative: one promulgated by the sociology"of
l i t e r a t u r e re a d e rs and the o th e r by her f e m in is t re a d e rs . The
s o c io l o g i c a l re a d e rs ta g Austen as a c o n s e rv a tiv e because they
/ /
ignore the f e m in is t p o l i t i c s in her work. They are commonly
o b liv io u s to is s u e s o f gender in th e n o v e ls, y e t brand them as
narrow because they a re so p r im a r ily peopled by women. Raymond
Williams, who i s considered one of the founders of the sociological
4
approach,1 * leaves out any recognition of gender in Austen's novels,
a tte n d in g only to what he sees as c la s s problem s. He sums up the
books as "the p r e c is e s o c i a l world o f Jane Austen."8 He d e p ic ts
A usten's shortcom ings as a w r i t e r through h is sense of her
r e s tr ic te d subject,
i t is an a c tu a l community very p r e c i s e l y s e l e c t i v e .
Neighbours in her nov els are not th e people a c t u a l l y
l i v i n g n ear by. . . . What she sees a c ro ss the land is a
netw ork o f p r o p e r tie d houses and f a m i l i e s , and through
th is tig h tly drawn mesh most actual people are simply not
seen.
W illiam s d isp a ra g e s A usten's " c la s s l i m i t a t i o n , " m easuring her
a g a i n s t George E l i o t w ith o u t ev er c o n s id e rin g t h a t E l i o t i s a
peculiar a r t i s t in her e ffo rts to make us believe th at she contains
an e n tire world.
The most d i s t u r b i n g a s p e c t o f W illia m 's " lim ite d group of
p e o p le ," i s h is v e rs io n o f a la r g e w orld, "The a c tu a l co u n try
people were landow ners, te n a n t fa rm e rs , d e a l e r s , c ra fts m e n and
labourers."^ He only mentions men. Williams applauds E lio t's many
classes, but these classes turn out to mean almost exclusively more
men; his description of the world in Middlemaroh is lim ited to i t s
" fa rm ers and c ra fts m e n ," "country la b o u r e r s ," "town c ra fts m e n ,"
"Vincy the manufacturer," "Bulstrode the banker," "Brooke, with his
a b s t r a c t reform who b rin g s the main c h a r a c te r s to g e th e r , no t
without some p ro test from Mrs Cadwallader," and "the professional
men—doctors and clergymen."8 The only woman Williams notices here
is mentioned in a purely negative sense. As usual with tra d itio n a l
5
movements of lib e ra tio n , i t i s men, never women, which the aim is
to in c lu d e or f re e . The absence which W illiam s d e p lo re s in
Austen's novels is th a t of low er-class men. But the lack of women
from alm o st any c la s s in most o f Joseph Conrad's n o v e ls, fo r
example, does not trouble him.
The example of Williams w ill show us how to understand David
Monaghan's version of Austen's people as "the e x tre m e ly s e l e c t i v e
way t h e s e c o m m u n itie s a r e p o p u l a t e d , a s w e l l a s J o e l
Weinsheimer's c r itic is m of A usten's s u b je c t. W einsheiraer s t a t e s
t h a t : "the value of a work o f a r t does depend p a r t l y on the
importance of i t s subject, th a t subjects can vary in importance."
He adds: "Many qualified readers have found Jane Austen's novels
w an tin g , and t h i s i s th e c l o s e s t to o b j e c t i v i t y t h a t th e in e x a c t
science of lite r a r y assessment can approach."^ What Weinsheimer
f o r g e t s in h i s q u e st fo r o b j e c t i v i t y , i s t h a t sexism may have
polluted the judgments he compiles. For him, "the cen tral defect
o f Jane A usten's no v els i s t h a t they stu d y man in a vacuum.
Something unconnected with the story of men and women is not there;
th a t something is the not-man."11 Does Weinsheimer want Austen to
w rite Moby Dick? Lord Jim? Or ju st The Old Man and the Sea?
P o l i t i c a l re a d e rs have seen Austen as e i t h e r im posing a
re d u c tiv e u n ity on h er work or r e f l e c t i n g (u n co n scio u sly , they
usually argue) a contradiction in the culture. For Williams, "The
paradox of Jane Austen is then the achievement of a unity of tone,
o f a s e t t l e d and rem arkably c o n fid e n t way o f ju d g in g , in t h i s
6
c h r o n ic le o f c o n fu sio n and change.”12 This u n ity , W illiam s
m a in ta in s , i s based on a form ula t h a t the upper c l a s s e s a re
d e se rv in g and good which l a t e r '’broke down” in th e a u th o rs he
a d m ire s; says W illiam s, "Jane Austen, i t i s c l e a r , never went so
fa r.”1 ^ A lis ta ir Duckworth sees a s im ila r unity in Austen, " It is
a c lo s u re t h a t r e f l e c t s a f a i t h t h a t th e r e i s o rd e r, in s p i t e of
abundant appearances to th e c o n tr a r y , embedded in the scheme of
14 ^
things." Duckworth's logic is th at
In h er c lo se a t t e n t i o n to p h y s ic a l f a c t , Jane Austen
declares her b e lie f, not in man as the creator of order,
but in man's freedom to c r e a t e w ith in a p r i o r o rd e r.
Thus her individualism as author, lik e the individualism
of her heroines, respects f in a lly the given stru ctu re of
her world. 1
T e rr y L o v e l l , " in an a t t e m p t to a s s e s s th e s o c i o l o g i c a l
s ig n i f i c a n c e o f Jane A usten's w r i t i n g s , by p la c in g them w ith in
1 8
t h e i r contem porary i d e o l o g i c a l c o n te x t," c la im s t h a t Austen
r e f l e c t s u n c r i t i c a l l y th e v a lu e s o f th e g e n try c l a s s in "her
conservative ideology.1,1 ^
What th e se re a d e rs do no t un d erstan d is t h a t Austen w r i te s
about women, and t h a t to t r e a t h er as i f her s u b je c t were m erely
"man" or " so c ie ty " o v erlo o k s a c r i t i c a l elem en t of her work. For
L o v e ll, "the novels o f Jane Austen" "are s t r i c t l y l i m i t e d to . . .
18
her class and i t s a c t i v i t i e s , " 1® for "She in s tin c tiv e ly avoids such
dangerous t e r r i t o r y " as "the f a t e o f her l e s s f o r t u n a t e s i s t e r s . "
To L o v e ll, "The s tr e n g th of Jane A usten's f i c t i o n l i e s in the
p ortrayal of the nuances of so cia l rela tio n sh ip s."1^ This view of
7
Austen, begun by Dorothy Van Ghent, appears with re g u la rity in the
sociological c ritic is m offered recently. I t reads Austen as i f she
were d e s c rib in g a tw e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y c l i c h e o f s o c ie ty and the
i n d i v i d u a l ’s r e l a t i o n to i t , and as i f she never w r i te s about the
personal or the p a rtic u la r. Her novels are seen as alle g o rie s only
o f s o c i a l r i t u a l s . What Austen wants us to u nderstand as two
people talking they d is to r t as " s o c ia l i n t e r c o u r s e ," w hile b a l l s ,
d in n e r s , and t h e a t r i c a l s they l i m i t to the blan k n ess of " s o c ia l
f u n c tio n s ." Thus, fo r Monaghan, A usten’s s u b je c t i s th e " tin y
e v e n ts " 2® "of the s o c ia l l i f e of people in co u n try v i l l a g e s , ”2 ^
with which she develops "a to t a l vision of man, society and nature"
out of "conservative ideology."22 The generic "man" points up how
t h i s l i n e o f c r i t i c i s m so o f te n m isses th e f a c t t h a t A usten’s
; [
\ subjects are women, not men. Ann Banfield, too, ignores the issue
o f g en d er, c la im in g f o r Austen in s t e a d , "a c r i t i c a l v is io n o f th e
new s o c ie ty . This i s because in th e e x p e rie n c e o f v i l l a g e l i f e ,
. . . she d isco v e re d a way to r e l a t e i n d iv id u a l e x p e rie n c e and th e
s o c ie ty i t i s formed in ." 2^ These r e a d e r s , u n ite d in the b e l i e f
t h a t Austen i s a c o n s e rv a tiv e , a re not a b le to an aly ze th e t r u l y
s i g n i f i c a n t s o c i a l c o n te x t o f A usten’s work, th e o p p ressio n of
women.
Most contem porary f e m in i s t c r i t i c s a ls o read Austen as a
c o n s e rv a tiv e . The g e n e r a l p i c t u r e E lle n Moers p r e s e n ts i s o f
pi1
Austen's "feminine realism ," which lacks what Moers thinks of as
passion. Novels Moers approves show,
8
the rich g i r l who wants a poor man. The l a t t e r s itu a tio n
was seized upon by every woman w rite r who was a fem inist
in lo v e , because i t gave h er th e chance to do th e scene
of choice: the heroine choosing and demanding her love,
as C ath erin e demands H e a t h c l i f f ; th e h e ro in e g iv in g
h e r s e l f f r e e l y , and throw ing Jane A usten’s prudence to
the winds, declaring her passion.
To Moers, Austen i s " p ru d e n t,” no t a " f e m in is t in love." But we
m ight ask what i s so f e m in i s t about a woman "giv in g h e r s e l f
f re e ly " ? Sandra M. G ilb e r t and Susan Gubar see Austen as
conservative about women's issues, as tightening the c o n strictio n s
upon women; in The Madwoman in the A ttic's now-famous d etraction,
they comment th a t "no le ss than the b lo tte r l i t e r a l l y held over the
m a n u sc rip t on her w r i ti n g desk, A usten's cover s to r y of the
necessity for silence and submission reinforces women's subordinate
p o s it i o n in p a t r i a r c h a l c u l t u r e ." ^ 0 One o f the most i n t e r e s t i n g
r e a d e rs o f Austen i s Nina Auerbach, but alth o u g h she p r e s e n ts
Austen as u p - to - d a t e , "not encased in the e ig h te e n th c e n tu ry ,"
Auerbach n e v e r th e le s s em phasizes a r e p r e s s i v e f e m in in ity in
Austen's Romanticism: "like the lady th at she was, she spoke more
s o f t l y . " 2^ A usten's s t a t u s as a Romantic becomes a q u e s tio n a b le
good, for to Auerbach, "both Romanticism and Jane Austen express a
profound aw areness t h a t the q u e s tin g s p i r i t i s bowed down by
pO
in d e lib le manacles, of i t s own and of so c ie ty ’s making.
Mary Poovey argues th a t "Jane Austen's fundamental ideological
position was conservative; her p o litic a l sympathies were generally
Tory."2^ Poovey discusses the opposition between conservatism as a
" c ris is of authority" caused by "the values and behavior associated
9
w ith c a p i t a l i s m . "3° The c o n f l i c t i s between " p a te rn a lis m " and
"individualism ." For Poovey, Austen's novels do not
support so s t r i c t a delineation of her sympathies. . .
(To give but one r e l e v a n t example: prom otion in such
p r e s t i g i o u s p r o fe s s io n s as th e navy could r e s u l t from
individual e ffo rt and m erit [as Persuasion in d icates]; at
o th e r tim e s i t depended on th e i n t e r e s t o f a p a tro n [as
W illiam P ric e le a r n s in M an sfield P a r k ]).3^ (Poovey's
brackets)
Karen Newman, too, p o r tr a y s Austen as a c o n s e rv a tiv e : "we s t i l l
re c o g n iz e in A usten's work p r i n c i p l e s o f p ro p o rtio n and s o c i a l
in teg ra tio n quite unromantic and unrevolutionary."^2 Ruth Bernard
Y e a z e ll, who has o ffe re d a r e c e n t a n th r o p o lo g ic a l re a d in g o f
Mansfield Park, argues th at "Mary speaks for the modern temper; but
Fanny, lik e the novel as a whole, se ts h e rse lf against the tid e of
h i s t o r y — a lm o st, in f a c t , a g a i n s t the very id ea of tim e and
change.
Both s o c i o l o g i c a l and f e m i n i s t re a d e rs are o f f e r i n g a
s im p lis tic view of Austen: she i s pictured as an early nineteenth-
century person, who therefore cannot see beyond the prejudices of
her time. Today's sociological perspectives emphasize how we are
l i m i t e d b e in g s, c o n s tra in e d by id e o lo g ie s dom inant du rin g our
l i v e s . But th e problem i s t h a t c r i t i c s have used A usten’s
recognition of th at lim ita tio n against her, seeking to mark out the
b o u n d a rie s — no t th e r e a c h — o f h er v is io n . The s o c io l o g i c a l and
fem inist readers assume th at they are able to pierce the prejudices
of the dominant ideology in a way th a t they presume Austen is not.
These c r i t i c s o ffer a seemingly sophisticated terminology, uniting
10
l i t e r a t u r e w ith h i s t o r y . But th e problem i s t h a t t h e i r s i s too
sim p le a n o tio n o f h i s t o r y to do j u s t i c e to Austen. They take
single aspects or even single lin e s from her novels out of context,
la b e llin g them according to th e ir view of what an early nineteenth-
c e n tu ry g e n tle p e r s o n , s in g le and fem ale, could be supposed to
c r e a te .
There a re obvious d i f f e r e n c e s between our c u ltu r e and e a r ly
n in e te e n th - c e n tu r y B r i t a i n 's . W e have many a l t e r e d custom s,
r o u ti n e s , p ro c e d u re s. The look o f our l i v e s has changed, become
m echanized. W e have a m iddle c l a s s in s te a d o f a g e n try . But we
need to question whether these changes represent major developments
in the treatm ent of underclasses, p a rtic u la rly women. The r it u a l s
and perhaps minor rules of male dominance and women's oppression
have a l t e r e d somewhat, but never the f a c t o f them. Today, in
c r itic is m , we a l l believe in the importance of recognizing c u ltu ra l
d ifferences between our time and Austen's, in avoiding what we now
regard as the naivete of a New C ritic a l reading which imagines an
Austen speaking a n a c h r o n i s t i c a l l y to us. But th e r e are o th e r
contexts which m atter too. Closer a tte n tio n to the complexity of
A usten’s work, I want to arg u e, w i l l e n lig h te n us in a more
i n t e g r a te d way, about the c u l t u r e in which she w rote. What I am
s u g g e stin g we w i l l fin d i s t h a t our c u l t u r e and A usten's d i f f e r
l e s s than t r a d i t i o n a l s o c io l o g i c a l and f e m in is t re a d e rs have
presumed. Because we s t i l l l i v e in a p a t r ia r c h y , a culture*
o rg an ized around men, which o v e rv a lu e s men and o v erlo o k s women,
11
because women’s liv es are s t i l l undervalued and under-recognized in
work, in e f f o r t s , and ach iev em en t, s t i l l l e s s helped by a id s and
encouragements, Austen's books can t e l l us more than readers have
supposed about how to survive in a male-oriented cu ltu re —not by
/
conforming, but by developing a fem inist consciousness.
Poovey's o p p o s itio n between l i b e r a l i s m and c o n se rv a tism is
r e p r e s e n t a t i v e o f how the s o c i o l o g i c a l c r i t i c s a t la r g e judge
Austen a c c o rd in g to n o tio n s dom inant d u rin g her l i f e . They ask
what was considered "conservative" in 1811; therefore the e s se n tia l
question is whether Austen does or does not support the ris in g to
su c c e ss o f poor men. They a re r i g h t as to how many o b s e rv e rs
during Austen’s age distinguished between what is rad ic a l and what
i s r e a c t i o n a r y . But th e flaw in t h e i r approach i s t h a t i t evades
the re a lly revolutionary question as to what groups in the culture
a re given th e o p p o rtu n ity to do what i s c a l l e d "succeeding." Who
a re allow ed the power to tak e care of th em se lv e s? Who in the
c u l t u r e i s r e s p e c t e d ? Who d em ean ed , p u sh ed to th e s i d e ,
overlooked, ignored? These are the questions Austen's novels ask.
Hers a re more t h r e a te n in g c h a lle n g e s to th e c u l t u r e because they
move beyond the framework o f how " lo w e r -c la s s " men can become
"se lf-m a d e " men, a fram e we now re c o g n iz e as c o n s e rv a tiv e .
A usten's f i c t i o n goes beyond the t r a d i t i o n a l o p p o s itio n between
I
a r i s t o c r a c y and b o u rg e o isie to a f e m in i s t v is io n which in c lu d e s
issues of gender as well as of class.
12
The problem , I t h in k , i s t h a t f e m in i s t re a d e rs have o fte n
accep ted th in k e r s l i k e Mary W o lls to n e c r a f t or a r t i s t s l i k e
Charlotte Bronte and George E lio t as the standard fem inist authors.
These a re w r i t e r s whom I adm ire. But they a re not more f e m in i s t
than Austen. And m easuring Austen a g a in s t the norms c re a te d by
accepting th e ir work as c e n tra lly fem inist leads to d isto rtio n s in
the i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of A usten's n o v els. Monaghan d is p u te s the
p o s s i b i l i t y t h a t Austen could be f e m in i s t by d e c la r in g t h a t
"nowhere in her novels . . . does she follow Mary W ollstonecraft in
expressing discontent a t the woman's r e s tr ic te d role. None of her
heroines has any ambition to be admitted into the professions, to
manage an e s t a t e or to jo in th e a r m y ." ^ W e need to ask w hether
feminism consists merely in demanding work outside the home. To
Jane M i l l e r , a l s o , "Jane Austen was n o t a f e m i n i s t ," because "She
was not t e l l i n g women t h a t t h e i r problem s were a t t r i b u t a b l e
\
prim arily to th e ir being women." To M iller\ Austen s u b stitu te s for
p r o t e s t ad m o n itio n s t h a t " f r u s t r a t i o n , anger and in g ra titu d e are
u n a ttra c tiv e emotions in women, and th a t coming to terms with what
strong men want of women makes p ra c tic a l sense."35 According to
Leroy W . Smith, Austen is only "pre-fem inist," because she is only
"engaged in a 'l i m i t e d ' r e b e l l i o n , " and "her d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n does
n o t cause an open break w ith h e r s o c ie ty ." For Sm ith, as fo r
M i l l e r , "Much o f th e c o n te n t o f modern f e m in i s t tho u g h t i s th e re
but a f u l l sense o f th e i m p l i c a t i o n s o f h er p o s it i o n i s n o t. . . .
Female p ro te st is la te n t ra th e r than overt."3^ Moers, on the other
13
hand, sim p ly e x c la im s, "Good God! Was Jane Austen so l i t t l e a
fem inist th at she did not p ro te st her own life lo n g imprisonment a t
home?"^^
Because the "o b viously r e b e l l i o u s " anger o f such a r t i s t s as
W o lls to n e c r a f t, B ronte, E l i o t , and t h e i r tw e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y
s u c c e ss o rs Woolf and P la th has been accep ted as th e norm, th e
progressive vision of women in Austen's novels has been overlooked.
The very th oroughness o f th e fem inism t h e r e can be s a id to work
a g a i n s t h er. I f Austen had rem ained f ix a te d in an g er, i f she had
i
o f fe r e d only o u tra g e and no ways of coping, she would p e r v e r s e ly
have been seen as more fem inist. As our feminism moves from simple
f
fury to a constructive use of i t as a force to change our cu ltu re ,
we can b e tte r see the sp ecial strength of Austen's fic tio n s . They
both point out in ju s tic e and in sp ire women's good anger. But even
more, they show how to cope in sp ite of in ju s tic e , in sp ite of the
losses and diminutions the culture i n f l i c t s . They portray women as
im p o rta n t and i n t e r e s t i n g even though the c u l t u r e p i c t u r e s us as
sm all, weak, s i l l y , and meaningless. For Austen, our problems are
no t " a t t r i b u t a b l e to our being women," but to how a m iso g y n is t /
culture portrays women as in fe rio r.
The problem with an emphasis on novels by the Br;ontes as "more
V
obviously reb ellio u s s to rie s" and those by Austen as "aggressively
sane,"3® or with the view th a t the Brontes and E liot are fem inist
but Austen i s c o n s e rv a tiv e ,^ i s th a t I think th e ir d e fin itio n of
feminism is too lim ited. I think there is a problem with defining
14
as c e n tra lly fem inist a sense of female monstrousness. G ilbert and
Gubar’s re a d in g of C h a rlo tte B ro n te's madwoman Bertha Mason
Rochester as a female re fle c tio n of s e l f is c e rta in ly one valid way
of in te rp re tin g dreams and i t works for daylight f ic tio n s as well.
But I th in k we cannot escape th e way t h a t th e c e n t r a l , th e
perversely, the inexplicably and in ex tricab ly e v il and d estructive
p resen ce in Jane Eyre i s n o t p re se n te d as th e c u l t u r e , or as men,
but as a woman— v i l e , p e r v e rs e , and p a s s io n - s c a r r e d . I b e lie v e
t h a t th e r e i s a p lace fo r a r t l i k e t h i s , and f o r th e generous
readings of G ilbert and Gubar who do not blame Bronte for her blame
of woman, but e x p la in i t as an i n e v i t a b l e r e s u l t o f l i v i n g in a
\
fem ale-hating culture. This is how women are taught to envision
o u rs e lv e s . Like E l i o t 's condem nation of t r a d i t i o n a l women as
k itte n s or swans, Bronte's view also accepts the tra d itio n a l terms
for women.
But, and here i s my c e n t r a l concern, we must not a c c e p t such
s e l f - h a t r e d as th e only f e m in i s t p a t t e r n . I f we do, then a l l
s t r e n g t h f o r women, a l l s u r v i v a l , w i l l be i n t e r p r e t e d as
"aggressively sane," as a betrayal of suffering womanhood, as s t i l l
a n o th e r reaso n to f e e l g u i l t y . I f t h a t i s th e only f e m in i s t a r t ,
th en Anne E l l i o t and Penelope Clay in P e rsu a sio n may w e ll seem
s im ila r ,1 *^ because acts of strength and concern for others cannot
be accep ted as worthy e f f o r t s o f s is te r h o o d , but in s te a d become
d a n g e r o u s l y m a n i p u l a t i v e , a l i g n e d to t r a d i t i o n a l forms of
a g g re s s io n . We need to in c lu d e as f e m in i s t th e s tr e n g th o f
15
recovery, of coping in sp ite of continual invasive unfairness, to
add to our anger a t the i n j u s t i c e s women fa c e . This anger does
need to be ongoing, and I would go so fa r as to say th a t we need to
f e e l i t every day. But we a ls o do need to cope w ith i t in ways
t h a t do not blame o u r s e lv e s , th e em an atio n s o f B ertha Mason and
Rosamond Vincy, or even figures lik e Edward Rochester and T ertius
/
Lydgate. A usten's a r t l o c a t e s blame where i t b elo n g s, n o t in
/
individual women or even in individual men, but in the c u ltu re , the
so cial stru c tu re and i t s myths, which tra in s us a l l , women and men,
to think well of men and scornfully of women.
/
Our term f o r t h i s today i s " p a t r i a r c h y .” For i t i s th e
d isjunction in value between women and men which both allows and
s p rin g s from a s t r u c t u r e o rg a n iz e d f o r th e b e n e f i t o f men where
women f u n c t i o n p r i m a r i l y f o r th e s e r v i c e o f m en's n e e d s .
" P a tr ia r c h y ” and " c u ltu re " a re no t term s Austen u ses. But h er
novels continually focus on conventional thinking and the harm i t
does women. With terms lik e "the culture" and "the patriarchy," I
do no t mean to im ply t h a t Austen p o r tr a y s i n j u s t i c e as r e s u l t i n g •
// '
solely from some single monolith external to humans. By c u ltu re , I
f
mean n o t only the i n s t i t u t i o n s which o rd e r our l i v e s , but the
/ '
things we teach our children and were imbued with ourselves: the
f
s t o r i e s we t e l l , th e e v e n ts we c e l e b r a t e , th e myths we r e p e a t to ,
make o u rs e lv e s value c e r t a i n a s p i r a t i o n s over o th e r s , and to »
enforce p a rtic u la r visions as the universal tru th s of humanity. By
16
/
"the patriarchy," I re fe r to how the cu lture i s perverted to serve
men's needs through i t s in s titu tio n s and customs.
* * » * *
W e can both b e tte r see Austen's progressivism and understand
th e d isp a ra g e m e n ts of h er work by lo o k in g b r i e f l y a t c u r r e n t
fem inist th e o re tic a l debate. The concept of feminism immediately
ra ise s the spectre of what are generally agreed as i t s three main
streams: lib e r a l, s o c ia li s t , and ra d ic a l feminism, or, as they are
sometimes summarized: p o l i t i c a l , economic, and sexual. I do not
l i n e Austen up w ith any o f th e se s t r a i n s both because re c e n t
t h e o r i s t s argue t h a t th e se movements a re b eginning to meld
|l - |
together, "as fem inist p ractice o u tstrip s fem inist theory," and
because I want to d i s t i n g u i s h a view as c lo se as p o s s ib le to
Austen's own terms.
Hester Eisenstein quotes Linda Gordon's d e fin itio n of feminism
as "an a n a l y s is o f women's s u b o rd in a tio n fo r th e purpose of
Ho
f ig u r in g out how to change i t . " nc To t h i s E is e n s te in adds "an
elem en t o f v is io n a r y , f u t u r i s t th o u g h t." 1 ^ But t h i s presupposes
th e a b i l i t y to see t h a t women m a tte r , and t h a t the o p p re ssio n o f
women is wrong. That is p a rtly where, I think, the visionary work
i s demanded: le a r n in g to see women and c a re about them. A lison
Jaggar shows how t h i s work i s done: "Rather th an p ro v id in g new
answers to old problems, they [fe m in ists] seek to demonstrate th at
17
the problems themselves have been conceived too narrowly."1 *1 * Women
have been l e f t out. But the immediate d if f ic u lty with discussing
women’s s u f f e r i n g i s t h a t i t i s not y e t accep ted as " s e rio u s " by
the m ainstream . This i s one reason c r i t i c s have deceived
themselves th a t Austen’s subject is small.
I b e lie v e the reaso n t h a t A usten’s p ro g re s s iv e n e s s has been
overlooked, i s th a t her views remain new today. W e can begin with
the ultim ate question: What do we aim for? What are the solutions
we w a n t? A r e c e n t i d e a l h as b een " s e p a r a t i s m , " and th e
condem nation of " c o l l u s i o n i s t " or " c o lla b o ra tio n is t" cooperation
with men. Austen’s novels mark out a d iffe re n t goal. Hers is not
a s e p a r a t i s t , but what I c a l l a ’’r e f o r m i s t " hope, based on a
d i f f e r e n t sense o f th e p o s s i b i l i t i e s fo r r e l a t i o n s between th e
genders. Today, i t seems to me, separatism and reformism are based
on a l t e r n a t e view s o f th e r e l a t i o n between women and men, and on
the issue of d is s im ila rity or commonality among women and men. The
d ivision between the two approaches, then, re s ts on the question of
w hether the id e a l i s " d if f e r e n c e " or "androgyny," or the term I
p refer, "gynandry." Crudely described, s e p a ra tis ts believe in the
g reater p u rity of women, are d isillu sio n e d with the current world’s
p o s s i b i l i t i e s f o r change, and advocate r e t r e a t to a woman's
paradise. Reformists believe th a t r e tr e a t is e ith e r impossible or
undesirable, th a t the ex istin g world poses such a danger to us a l l
th a t i t needs to be reformed, because no escape can pro tect us.
!
18
But much recent work has returned to g lo rify in g the notion of
difference between the genders. Eisenstein ch aracterizes th is as
"a p o t e n t i a l l y r e a c t i o n a r y co n cep t . . . th e i n t r i n s i c moral
s u p e rio rity of women.1 1 ^ Carol G illigan's research, in p a rtic u la r,
has been used to argue for d ifference, th a t women are in tr in s ic a lly
b e t t e r , p u re r, more e m o tiv e, more s e l f l e s s , and more given to
n u r tu r in g than men. This i s b a sin g a g r e a t d eal on d a ta which
seems to me in a d e q u a te . G illig a n founds h er c o n c lu s io n s about
women's "d ifferen t voice" on two t e s ts , one a hypothetical and the
o th e r an a c t u a l s i t u a t i o n . The f i r s t i s "a man named Heinz
considers whether or not to s te a l a drug which he cannot afford to
lift
buy in order to save the l i f e of h is wife." In other words, th is
i s the standard misogynist stru ctu re of "man and wife," where the
man i s the person in the s to r y , th e woman only an o f f - s t a g e
a d ju n c t. We could s a f e l y argue t h a t women may w e ll have a
d i f f e r e n t resp o n se to t h i s s i t u a t i o n than would men. We need to
ask w hether th e re sp o n se s G i l l i g a n exam ines would have been th e
same to a "woman and spouse" or "person and spouse" fo rm u la tio n
where the gender of n eith er person is specified.
More s e r i o u s l y , G i l l i g a n 's a b o r tio n stu d y seems not to take
context in to account. Her analysis does not consider the fa c t th a t
a b o r tio n and i s s u e s o f re p ro d u c tio n as we know them c o n s t i t u t e a
sp e c ific bind for women wrought by our p a rtic u la r heritage and lack
o f concern fo r women's needs. G i l l i g a n 's e r r o r i s to i n t e r p r e t
women's p ro c e ss e s f o r d e c id in g w hether to have an a b o r tio n as
19
fu n d a m e n ta lly p a r t o f what we are or even o f how we have been
socialized. G illigan in te rp re ts women's decision-making processes
about a b o r tio n as a p o in t to judge how w e ll women re s o lv e a
c o n f l i c t between " f e m in in ity and ad u lth o o d ," f o r , "When a woman
c o n s i d e r s w h e th e r to c o n t i n u e o r a b o r t a p r e g n a n c y , she
c o n te m p la te s a d e c is io n t h a t a f f e c t s both s e l f and o th e r s and
engages d ire c tly the moral issue of hurting." Hers i s a conclusion
only true in a misogynist culture where, esp ecially , single women's
b e a r i n g c h i l d r e n i s n o t a i d e d by s o c i a l s u p p o r t s , w here
r e p ro d u c tio n i s not reco g n ized or rew arded as a s i g n i f i c a n t
c o n t r i b u t i o n to th e c u l t u r e , or counted i n t o th e Gross N a tio n a l
P ro d u ct. G illig a n couches t h i s is s u e as a m oral c r i s i s which
i n e v i t a b l y p i t s women's n e e d s a g a i n s t o t h e r s ' . Her work
d e m o n s tra te s , r i g h t l y , I b e lie v e , t h a t women o fte n do not f e e l
e n title d to what we need because i t c o n flic ts with what the culture
teaches th a t we deserve. But th a t is not what G illigan concludes
from her study. Instead she fastens on women a ce rta in emotional
imm aturity, an unw illingness to take ad u lt re sp o n s ib ility for our
decisions. "The c o n flic t between s e lf and other thus c o n stitu te s
the c e n tra l problem for women, posing a dilemma whose resolution
requires a re c o n c ilia tio n between fem ininity and adulthood."1 ^
G i l l i g a n seem s to im p ly t h a t men a r e a b l e to ta k e
re sp o n s ib ility for th e ir choices in a way th a t women are not, for
she arg u e s t h a t "The essen ce o f m oral d e c is io n i s the e x e r c is e o f
ch o ice and the w il l i n g n e s s to a c c e p t r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r t h a t
20
c h o i c e , ” b u t d i s c o v e r s t h a t women a r e " C h i l d l i k e in th e
v u l n e r a b i l i t y o f t h e i r d e p e n d e n c e and c o n s e q u e n t f e a r o f
lift
abandonm ent," c la im in g "only to w ish to p le a s e ." no This i s a
p o te n tia lly i f not actu a lly misogynist argument. G illigan ignores
how our culture supports the choices men make but attack s women for
ours. She seems to imply th a t men make decisions independently of
the c u ltu ra l guidelines in a way in which she assumes th a t women do
n o t. But th e t r u t h i s t h a t men are not put in such binds where
needs c o n f l i c t w ith duty to o th e r s . G illig a n assum es t h a t th e
c irc u m sta n c e s which make women’s d e c is io n s d i f f i c u l t r e f l e c t a
valid world, a world which cannot be changed.
From h er e a r l i e s t through h er l a s t n o v e l, Austen p r e s e n ts
g e n e r a l i z a t i o n s o f d i f f e r e n c e as tem p tin g y e t dubious; in her
f i c t i o n s both women and men are cap ab le o f th ic k h e a d e d n e ss and
b r i l l i a n c e , s e l f i s h n e s s and d e v o tio n , b r u t a l i t y and k in d n e ss,
weakness and courage, f e a r and v a lo r . These are human em otions.
But tick in g o ff such catalogues l i t t l e informs us of the value in
A usten’s p e r s p e c tiv e , f o r i t g lo s s e s over the enormous c la im s
r e s t i n g on d i s t i n c t i o n s between women’s n a tu re and pow ers, and
men’s. We can begin to see A usten's method f o r a rg u in g a g a in s t
difference by noticing th a t she takes up the claim of one gender's
s u p e r i o r i t y over the o th e r , in a s i t u a t i o n where i t i s made in
fa v o r o f women. "Every body a llo w s t h a t th e t a l e n t of w r i ti n g
a g re e a b le l e t t e r s i s p e c u l i a r l y fe m a le ," q u ips Henry T iln ey
f l i p p a n t l y in N orthanger Abbey. When C a th e rin e h e s i t a t i n g l y
21
p ro te s ts , Henry s ta te s th a t
I should no more lay i t down as a general ru le th at women
w rite b e tte r l e t t e r s than men, than th a t they sing b e tte r
d u e ts , or draw b e t t e r la n d sc a p e s. In every power, o f
which t a s t e i s th e fo u n d a tio n , e x c e lle n c e i s p r e t t y
f a i r l y divided between the sexes. (NA 28)
The difference between C atherine’s doubts and Henry's s e c u r i t y i s
only a s m a ll im a g in a tiv e l e a p — th e w i l l i n g n e s s to b e lie v e t h a t
o rd in a ry s te r e o ty p e s a re f a l s e in s p i t e of t h e i r g e n e r a l use.
Catherine is troubled; common assumptions seem to her wrong, but
she does n o t know how to oppose what i s so p e r v a s iv e ly a s s e r t e d .
Henry shows t h a t th e only answ er i s sim p ly to d is c a rd the
g en eralizatio n which does not hold up.
Austen continually renders the question of difference in a way
I th in k o f as most c o n s tr u c t i v e . In P e rsu a s io n , Anne E l l i o t and
Captain H arville leave th e ir debate about difference among women
and men unresolved. For when Captain H arville asks "But how s h a ll
we prove any th in g ? " about w hether women's or men's love i s the
more en d u rin g , Anne resp o n d s, "We never s h a ll ." (P 23*0 Such
issues are d i f f i c u l t because " It is a difference of opinion which
does no t ad m it o f p roof." But Austen does not leav e us so
stranded—her sense of the eq u ality of a b i l i t i e s among women and
men i s s h o r t l y shown. Anne E l l i o t ' s d e v o tio n and co n stan cy to
F re d e ric k W entworth has been e q u a lle d by h is to h e r, once he has
eschewed the s e lf-d e s tru c tiv e weakness he has e rro n e o u s ly c a lle d
" s tre n g th ." Anne tu rn s out to have been s tr o n g e r than F re d e ric k
Wentworth. But the meaning of th is i s not th a t women are innately
22
stronger than men, but th a t the groupings "female” and "male” t e l l
us l i t t l e of the p o te n tia l for courage, lo y alty , or anything else ,
in p a rtic u la r people.
/
Austen's novels take the power out of the cliche th a t men are
"rational" and "logical" while women are "emotional" and variable.
The r e a l c u l t u r a l d i f f e r e n c e is t h a t men a re encouraged to say
th e ir emotions, to be confident th a t they w ill be validated by the
term "logical," th a t is , th e ir emotions w ill be treated as i f they
r e f l e c t r e a lity . That is the meaning of the term "ra tio n a l.” But
women's emotions are condemned as d iffe re n t from th a t, as p rivate
and personal. This is an outgrowth of the whole mistaken division
between private and public, and the devaluation of women's thoughts
intended by th a t d istin c tio n . Captain Wentworth thinks of him self
as r d s o lu te and s tr o n g , when he i s r e a l l y only s e l f - d e s t r u c t i v e .
His reso lu tio n turns out to have been a cowardly in a b ility to check
back w ith Anne E l l i o t to see i f h is a ssu m p tio n s are tr u e . For
e i g h t y e a r s he h a s t h o u g h t o f A nne's d i s s o l u t i o n o f t h e i r
engagement as "weakness and t i m i d i t y , " but in P e rsu a sio n he
gradually learns th a t i t is "fortitude." Austen continually shows
th at the standard p ictu res we have of such q u a litie s are wrong. In
Sense and S e n s ib ility , she demonstrates th a t the whole d istin c tio n
between reason and f e e l i n g i s f a l s e , so t h a t we cannot deceive
o u r s e lv e s t h a t s e n s i b i l i t y i s a woman's t r a i t , and sense a man's.
In general, women and men, she shows, have both emotions and needs
which we try to v alid a te through lo g ical processes.
23
Many th e o ris ts nevertheless cling to "difference." Josephine
Donovan, for instance, portrays the notion th at women and men are
not i n n a t e l y d i f f e r e n t w ith a la c k o f e n th u sia s m , " I f th e m ale-
f e m a l e d i f f e r e n c e i s n o t i n th e g e n e s " th e n "A ch an g e in
s o c ia liz a tio n , or education, or social circumstance would produce
d iffe re n t gender id e n titie s or no such id e n titie s a t a l l . W e would
a l l be 'p e rs o n s ’ or ’a n d ro g y n es.”'^9 assu m p tio n i s t h a t l i f e
would be dreary because women and men would be boringly sim ila r. I
believe th a t a t base, th is i s a sexual fear, the apprehension th a t
sex w i l l no lo n g er be i n t e r e s t i n g i f i t i s ex p ressed w ith o u t
s e p a r a t i o n , d i f f e r e n c e — th e h o s t i l i t y o f m ystery. W hatever i t s
o rig in , such thinking misunderstands gynandry. The a lte rn a tiv e to
"difference" is not uniform ity, but d iv e rsity . I t is more choice
in s te a d o f l e s s , i n f i n i t e in d iv id u a l p a r t i c u l a r i t y and m ystery,
ra th e r than two regimented, even m i l i t a r i s t i c codes for fem ininity
and m a s c u lin ity . I t i s the r e c o g n itio n t h a t women and men sh are
more than we d if f e r , although we are taught to c a ll our behaviors
by d i f f e r e n t names. Perhaps we do no t want to keep "gynandry" as
an id eal, because of the public’s general p ro c liv ity to hear in i t
only "sam eness." But I b e lie v e t h a t in our e f f o r t s to c e l e b r a t e
"div ersity ," we can learn from Austen’s novels.
W e can most read ily perceive Austen’s refo rm ist sympathies in
how continually and e n th u sia s tic a lly she t e l l s love s to rie s. For
h e r, lo v e --e v e n h e te r o s e x u a l l o v e - - i s c a p a b le o f refo rm . But we
can also re c a ll the ardent involvement in the world which her plo ts
24
demand t h a t h er lead c h a r a c t e r s e i t h e r le a r n or s u s t a i n . ^ 0 The
i n e f f i c a c y of r e t r e a t i s re v e a le d in Marianne Dashwood's flaw ed
d e s ir e to escape people who offend her sense o f harm onious or
g r a c e f u l a e s t h e t i c s . We can see a l i k e f a i l u r e in S i r W alter
E l l i o t ' s c r a s s snobbery— i t o f f e r s l i t t l e p r o te c t io n to p u e r i le
s e n s i b i l i t i e s . Perhaps most o f a l l , we can remember Mr. Bennet,
th a t peculiar symbol of r e t r e a t , whose abandonment of e f fo r t and
involvement singularly f a i l s to lend beauty to his experience. For
Austen, th e r e i s no g e t t i n g ou t o f t h i s w orld, and tr y in g to f le e
i t only causes harm. When E liz a b e th Bennet in a moment of
h o p e le s sn e s s ask s "What a re men to ro ck s and m ountains?" she i s
im ita tin g her fa th e r's easy disillusionm ent. Her "Thank Heaven! I
am going to-m orrow where I s h a l l fin d a man who has not one
a g re e a b le q u a l i t y ," p o r tr a y s A usten's v e rs io n of s e p a ra tis m .
Elizabeth's pronouncement th a t "Stupid men are the only ones worth
knowing, a f t e r a l l , " as h e r au n t t e l l s h e r , "savours s tr o n g ly of
d isa p p o in tm e n t." (PP 154) Austen shows t h a t som etim es men a re
d is a p p o in tin g , u n f i t to be p a r t of women's l i v e s . But she a ls o
/
shows how th ey a re cap ab le o f refo rm . The p o in t, f i n a l l y , i s n o t
to bind people in reductive frames of female and male.
E isenstein, opposed to separatism as an id e a l, though not as a
route to recovery, argues for "entering the world and attem pting to
change i t , " in s te a d of r e t r e a t i n g to a m an -free s o c ie ty . She
advocates "associating feminism with the lib e ra tin g tra d itio n s of
W estern th o u g h t," but she adds a g o al of "imbuing them w ith th e
25
woman-centered values of nurturance and intimacy."^ ^ But I want to
argue th a t what is missing from Western tra d itio n s of lib e ra tio n is
not "woman-centered values," but women—the b e lie f th a t women are
human too and ought to be l i b e r a t e d as w e ll as men. A usten's
p e r s p e c tiv e shows t h a t both t r a d i t i o n a l men and th e p a t r i a r c h a l
culture do fe e l, c u ltiv a te , and even celeb rate q u a litie s which most
o b s e rv e rs a s c r i b e s o le l y to women o f " n u rtu ra n c e and in tim a c y ."
But they are lavished only upon other men. In our emphasis on the
aggressive, "macho" aspects of male s o c ia liz a tio n , we have ignored
" o ld - b o y " n e t w o r k s , p a t e r - s o n l i n k s , c l u b s , and a l l o t h e r
f r a t e r n i t i e s , both b u s in e s s and s o c i a l , which a re designed to
f o s t e r in tim a c y among men. And men n u r tu r e each o th e r very
e f f e c t i v e l y through " t e l l i n g t h e i r own s t o r y , " as Anne E l l i o t
p o in ts out. (P 234) Our work i s not to humanize men or men's
tra d itio n s , but to teach them to d ire c t th e ir nurturance to women,
as they have toward men, even while we seek to nurture ourselves.
That i s th e p o in t o f A usten’s f l e e t i n g p o r t r a y a l in Sense and
S e n s ib ility of how old Mr. Dashwood repudiates four women who have
g e n e ro u sly cared f o r him in fa v o r of one l i t t l e boy who never
wanted anything but his own way. In Mansfield Park, Mr. Price pays
a t t e n t i o n to Henry Crawford but ig n o re s h i s own d a u g h te rs.
P e r s u a s io n 's S ir W alter E l l i o t is f a s c i n a t e d by Mr. E l l i o t but
c a re s n o th in g f o r Anne. What i s more, th e same myopia a f f e c t s
women l i k e Lady C a th e rin e de Bourgh, absorbed in h e r nephews,
dism issive of other women; Mary Crawford, with her allegiance to
26
men and casual d is ta s te for women; and mothers lik e Mrs. Price who
notices only her boys and her youngest child Betsy, but passes over
Fanny, Susan, and p ro b ab ly " l i t t l e s i s t e r Mary," (386) who,
t e l l i n g l y , has d ied . O ften, A usten's n o v els show, when women as
w ell as men scan the landscape, i t is the men and boys who seem to
jum p o u t a t th em . P u t a n o t h e r way, th e i s s u e i s women's
i n v i s i b i l i t y to most onlookers. The point is not to blame women,
bu t to show t h i s as a sad, and a ls o a s e l f - h a t i n g , r e s u l t o f l i f e
in a cu ltu re where humanity i s pictured as male, while women work
and su ffe r and die unnoticed.
Austen's analysis of viewers* unw illingness to tr e a t women as
im p o rta n t does no t end h ere. We need to r e t u r n to Henry T iln e y 's
subversion of "difference," his emphatic f a ith th a t we cannot say
t h a t e i t h e r women or men "sin g b e t t e r d u e ts" or "draw b e t t e r
la n d sc a p e s." Because th e f a c t i s t h a t our c u l t u r e a t la r g e does
j u s t t h a t , f o r t h e r e i s f a r more i n t e r e s t in a r t produced by men
th an t h a t c re a te d by women. This i n j u s t i c e i s the s u b je c t o f
Austen's famous defense of the novel in her own f i r s t one. I t is a
genre she defends as predominantly w ritte n by women, against the
in e x p l i c a b l e h o s t i l i t y to i t - - a g a i n s t how " th e re seems a lm o st a
general wish of decrying the capacity and undervaluing the labour
of the n o v e list, and of slig h tin g the performances which have only
g e n iu s , w i t , and t a s t e to recommend them." (NA 37) N orthanger
Abbey's n a rra to r reduces to "common cant" and "threadbare stra in s"
the v i l l i f i c a t i o n of w ritin g by women usually accepted as inspired
27
d i s c r i m i n a t i o n . She m im ics th e d e v a lu a tio n s : "I am no novel
reader—I seldom look into novels—Do not imagine th a t I often read
novels—I t is re a lly very well for a novel." (37-38) The narrato r
compares the unjust applause which g lo r if ie s men's mundanities and
the unjust disparagements which harass women’s c re a tiv ity . Women
are h u rt, Northanger Abbey shows, by how our culture celebrates the
d e r i v a t i v e r e -h a s h in g s o f "the n in e -h u n d re d th a b r id g e r o f th e
History of England," which, Catherine w ill soon t e l l us, contains
almost solely men with "hardly any women a t a ll." (108) Both the
a b r id g e r s and "the man" who m erely " c o l l e c t s and p u b lis h e s " the
work of other men lik e "Milton, Pope, and P rio r, with a paper from
th e S p e c ta to r , and a c h a p te r from S te rn e ," a re u n f a i r l y honored,
"eu lo g ized by a thousand pens." (37) On one hand, men’s plodding
c o m p ila tio n o f old work i s , a c c o rd in g to th e n a r r a t o r , g e n e r a lly
adm ired, but on th e o th e r , women a r t i s t s ’ r e a l o r i g i n a l i t y i s
sco rn ed . Austen, though, tra n s f o rm s women a r t i s t s in to the
g re a te s t of humans: in "Cecilia, or Camilla, or Belinda," works by
and about women, "the g r e a t e s t powers o f the mind a re d is p la y e d ,
. . . th e most thorough knowledge o f human n a tu r e , th e h a p p ie s t
d e l i n e a t i o n o f i t s v a r i e t i e s , th e l i v e l i e s t e f f u s i o n s o f w it and
humour a re conveyed to th e w orld in th e b e s t chosen language."
(38)
A usten's d efen se o f th e novel i s a comic one. But her
n a rra to r, through her laughter and the amusement her reader shares,
t e l l s us th at novels o ffe r more to in te r e s t readers, both in terms
28
o f t h e i r in v e n tio n and t h e i r i n s i g h t in t o our l i v e s , perhaps
because they are about women, than the e f f e t e and outmoded
creatio n s made by men—humorously rid icu led in her r a i ll e r y about
The S p e c ta to r . "The chances must be a g a in s t" anyone "being
occupied by any p a r t o f t h a t volum inous p u b l i c a t i o n ," because o f
i t s "improbable circumstances, unnatural ch aracters, and topics of
c o n v e r s a tio n , which no lo n g e r concern any one l iv in g ." This
h ig h lig h ts the n a rra to r's re a l concern. A woman reading a r t i f a c t s
by women has been b u l l i e d i n t o f e e l i n g " a f fe c te d i n d i f f e r e n c e or
momentary shame" ab o u t i t . But s a d ly , i f she had been "engaged
w ith a volume of th e S p e c ta to r ," "how p roudly would she have
produced the book and told i t s name." Women are ashamed of women’s
inventions, "Although our productions have afforded more extensive
and u n a f f e c t e d p l e a s u r e th a n t h o s e o f any o t h e r l i t e r a r y
corporation in the world." The n a rra to r's laughing celebration of
th e f a s c i n a t i o n f o r n o v e ls which r e q u i r e s no a f f e c t a t i o n i s
e x p lic itly contrasted with th e ir inexplicable denunciation by the
p u b lic : "no s p e c ie s o f c o m p o sitio n has been so much d e c rie d . . .
our foes are alm ost as many as our readers." W e are encouraged to
enjoy the jo k e: n o v e l i s t s may have many fo e s , bu t they a ls o have
many, many r e a d e r s , p r i m a r i l y because a l l th e fo es a re r e a d e rs .
But th e h y p o c r i t i c a l sexism re m a in s — d ev o tees f e e l o b lig e d to
dism iss what so e n te rta in s them. W e s h a ll soon see how such shame
is taught when John Thorpe educates Catherine Morland on the fo lly
29
of admiring novels, a lesson Henry and Eleanor Tilney d e lig h tfu lly
ov ertu rn .
This is perhaps the clo se st Austen's n a rra tiv e voice comes in
any of her completed novels to open p ro test. But she does not ju s t
say, "women are treated unfairly." How many of us have said th a t,
and how many lis te n e r s have believed us? Usually only the already-
converted. So Austen convinces us instead. Through her laughter,
th e n a r r a t o r makes th e m e r it o f th e g en re a s s o c i a t e d w ith women
i n t o a m a tte r o f j o y f u l l y u n i v e r s a l agreem en t. And th e n e a rly
u n i v e r s a l b e l i t t l i n g (minus Austen and some o f h er f a v o r i t e
c h a r a c t e r s ) i s tra n sfo rm e d from an a ccep ted tru is m i n t o an
inexplicable mystery. Austen does not need to say what we already
know, t h a t b ia s a g a i n s t women so u rs th e s e n o v e ls ' r e c e p tio n ,
d e p riv in g them o f th e v e n e r a tio n th ey d e s e rv e , though not th e
enjoyment they o ffe r.
By defen d in g n o v e ls, A usten's n a r r a t o r i s opposing the
/
i n s t i t u t i o n a l i z a t i o n o f h o s t i l i t y to women. Women's s u f f e r i n g s
become no t "women's p ro b lem s," but problem s the c u l t u r e has
t r e a t i n g women s e r i o u s ly . That i s why th e " o c c a s io n a lly stu p id "
Catherine Morland is such a revolution. W e are asked to sympathize
w ith a woman now, no t l a t e r , no t a f t e r she has become p e r f e c t or
irreproachable. Austen's visions of women, I think, s t i l l express
women's p lig h ts today, even though they do not perform what David
Monaghan d e f in e s as fem in ism , t h a t i s , a s k in g f o r jo b s. But I
b e lie v e t h a t to focus on jobs as a panacea i s only a m a s c u li n i s t
30
v e r s io n o f fem inism , a " c a r e e r is m ” in which power i s presumed to
sim p ly w a it f o r us in work o u ts id e the home. Women a re now
" l i b e r a t e d 1 1 to e arn our own l i v i n g s . But do many o f us now f e e l
any more appreciated a t work, le ss lonely, than Anne E llio t fe e ls
a t K ellynch or even a t U ppercross? Does our "word" have more
"w eight"? Our p le a s u r e , l i k e Anne's, may be t h a t we are "glad to
be th o u g h t o f some u se ," (P 33) bu t t h a t i s a l l . How many o f us
r e a l l y f e e l more p o p u lar or adm ired than Fanny P ric e d u rin g the
M an sfield t h e a t r i c a l s ? Do we no t r a t h e r i m i t a t e h er v a l o r , or
Elizabeth Bennet's when Mr. Darcy refuses to dance with her? Even
though we now work outside the home as well as in i t , our treatm ent
by most o b s e rv e rs c o n tin u e s th e same. A usten's v i s i o n o f Jane
Fairfax shows us th a t merely being lib e ra te d to earn her own liv in g
i s no l i b e r a t i o n . Being a go v ern ess i s to be caught in a "sla v e
t r a d e , " (E 300) w here l a b o r beco m es s l a v e r y b e c a u s e i t i s
undervalued and underpaid.
D ebunking " d i f f e r e n c e " and r e c o g n i z i n g th e c u l t u r e ' s
propensity to nurture men not women, can provide a new perspective
on the debate between those who advocate th at "women must change"
and th o se who b e lie v e t h a t "the c u l t u r e must change." Austen can
show t h a t th e flaw in our c u l t u r e i s n o t t h a t through i t s n e g le c t
women grow up from in sig n ifican ce to be unimportant, but th a t in
i t s a b i l i t y to re c o g n iz e women a t a l l , or valu e us where we a r e ,
there is a b a rrie r. What women must p ro te st is an unw illingness to
look a t women w ith i n t e r e s t , to i d e n t i f y w ith women as human, to
31
perceive women’s significance on our own, and the importance of our
c o n t r ib u t i o n s as w e ll. To make t h i s le a p i s to argue t h a t our
fundamental work is to change how women are seen, hence imagined.
This is not to say t h a t o p p re ssio n and i n j u r y l i k e ra p e , b e a tin g ,
s t a r v a t i o n , and murder a re u n im p o rta n t, but to argue t h a t th ey
follow d ire c tly from the in a b ility to imagine women as c e n tra lly
human and im p o rta n t. To make t h i s le a p i s to argue t h a t our
fundamental work is not to change ourselves, to somehow become more
im p o rta n t to prove our d e s e r v i n g n e s s o f f a i r e r t r e a t m e n t ,
sustenance, and even rewards, or to goad our s i s t e r s into some so rt
of professional uniform which may impress the reigning powers with
our new worthiness. I t is to accept th a t women have always been as
worthy as men, th a t we have done work which i s as important. I t is
to accept the anger a t the in ju s tic e which we have suffered, both
in the past and s t i l l today, because we are not seen as important,
as m a tte rin g . This is th e anger and the i n j u s t i c e which i s the
subject of Austen’s f ic tio n s , and her visionary hope fo r coping and
fo r working fo r change which I am c a llin g ’’fem in ist."
A usten’s approach to th e so u rc e s o f women's o p p re ss io n has
many b en efits. She can help us d istin g u ish between conservatives
and p r o g r e s s iv e s through w hether th e onus f o r refo rm i s put on
women or on the c u l t u r e . The c o n s e rv a tiv e p o s it i o n i s Mr.
B en n et's: to him h i s d a u g h te rs "are a l l s i l l y and ig n o ra n t l i k e
other g i r l s ," (P 5) and resembles th a t oft-expressed sentiment th at
" I ’m p e r f e c t l y w i l l i n g to be i n t e r e s t e d in women once they sto p
32
being t r i v i a l and do something im portant.” The logic is th a t women
a re n o t t r e a t e d e q u a lly because we d eserv e l e s s than men.
Sometimes the tr i v i a l i z a t i o n of women’s liv e s is explained by the
d iv isio n between public and domestic or p riv a te l i f e , ^ 2 sometimes
by th e ’’u n s k il l e d n a tu re o f women's p u b lic w o r k , " ^ 3 p y th e
inadequacy o f women's s o c i a l i z a t i o n , 5 1 * and sometimes even by the
" fr iv o lity of women's d r e s s ." ^ The im plication is th a t women can
earn our way o u t o f p a in and danger by becoming p u b lic , s k i l l e d ,
m a l e - s o c i a l i z e d , and s e r io u s - lo o k in g . But t h i s re a so n in g i s
exposed as a trap and a delusion as soon as we re c a ll a r t i s t s lik e
G ertru d e S te in whose many in n o v a tio n s , f e m i n i s t s now p o in t o u t,
were c r e d i t e d to E rn e st Hemingway; a r t l i k e patchw ork q u i l t s ,
scoffed a t u n t i l recent years; and the rid ic u le which often greeted
ta ilo re d token women. When seventeenth-century men wore ru ffle s
and lace, no one thought them friv o lo u s—why should notched c o lla rs
and s n u ffy c o lo r s be c o n sid e re d i n t r i n s i c a l l y " s e rio u s " today
except th a t they are the male norm? And i f women's public work is
demeaned because i t is unsk illed , then how do we explain the lack
o f r e s p e c t accorded n u rs e s and e le m e n ta ry sch o o l te a c h e r s ? The
whole issue of "comparable worth" proves th a t women's work is not
unskilled. I t is ju s t under-rewarded.
Discussion about women's in f e r io r ro les cannot account for how
Western r e l i e f agencies and the United Nations, when seeking to aid
farmers in Africa, u n til recently have donated money and technology
s o le l y to men, ig n o rin g women fa rm e rs and th e f a c t t h a t women do
33
most o f th e farm ing in A fric a . F e m in is ts now argue t h a t such
blindness has contributed to causing f a m i n e . S t u d i e s also show
t h a t people a s s e s s low p r e s t i g e to c u r r e n t l y h i g h - p r e s t ig e
professions lik e brain surgeons or lawyers when told in cid en tally
th a t they are expected to be 50 percent women in 20 years, but rate
th e same p r o f e s s io n s h ig h ly p r e s t i g i o u s when inform ed t h a t they
w ill continue to contain only two to three percent women. And we
hav e a l r e a d y e s t a b l i s h e d t h a t w h e n e v e r women t a k e o v e r a
57
profession, the pay and p restig e go down.
T his, A usten's d is c u s s io n of the novel shows, i s an is s u e o f
mystique. The common assumption th a t "only men" can do men's work,
while "anyone" can do women's work survives in s p ite of the obvious
t r u t h t h a t presum ably more o f us could f i g h t , f o r i n s t a n c e , than
could bear c h ild r e n . Austen t e l l s us t h a t we must move beyond
naive notions of winning lib e ra tio n through trying to deserve i t in
new ways. For i f our c u l t u r e , i f people in g e n e r a l, were a b le to
g r a n t women r e c o g n itio n through m e r it , e v e ry th in g e l s e would be
achieved. Recognition would have graced us long ago. But in fact
th e p e r v a s i v e s c o r n f o r women c o n t i n u e s i n s p i t e o f i t s
c o n t r a d i c t i o n s . Women are c r i t i c i z e d f o r m u tu a lly e x c lu s iv e
reasons. The same woman can be dismissed as "imprisoned" therefore
" l i m it e d ," and a ls o a s " s p o ile d ," t h a t i s , " p r iv ile g e d ." Austen
h e rse lf is an apt example, maligned sim ultaneously as a r e s tr ic te d
woman and as a privileged member of the gentry. Standard wisdom
intones about Austen's lim ited l i f e , because she "spen[t] most of
34
h er l i f e indoors."^® But I see t h i s as a s e x i s t d i s t i n c t i o n . We
a l l go from room to room, and i t is the q u ality of imagination and
mind we bring to our tra v e ls which determines both th e ir v ariety
and scope. Recent h i s t o r i a n s argue t h a t the d r a s t i c d i s t i n c t i o n
between p u b lic and d o m estic w orlds was in v e n te d d u rin g th e
R e n a i s s a n c e , ^ th a t time which fem inist h isto ria n s now argue was
c o n s t r i c t i n g , n o t f r e e i n g , f o r w o m e n .^ T h ere i s l i t t l e
q u a l i t a t i v e d i f f e r e n c e between p u b lic and p r iv a te l i f e or work,
except th a t the privacy of homelife allows b a rb a ritie s lik e beating
and i n c e s t to occur. Today, "The p e rs o n a l i s p o l i t i c a l " i s our
fem inist antidote to the p u b lic /p riv a te d u a lity , and i t can help us
perceive how Austen tr e a ts her women characters as both p o l i t i c a l
and important.
There a re o th e r ad v an tag es to A usten's v i s io n o f women. The
much-ballyhooed antagonisms between "privileged" women and women of
color or women of poverty; between " tra d itio n a l" and "professional"
women; between heterosexual and homosexual women; or between those
who ad v ocate "equal r i g h t s " and " s p e c ia l p r i v i l e g e s , " seem to
d is s o lv e . Fem inism , as Austen shows i t , i s no t th in k in g in th e
competitive modes of "careerism," but instead cherishes sisterhood
for other women. This i s not to minimize difference among women.
W e are not the same, but we are tre a te d the same. The whole inane
co n trad ictio n in coupling "privilege" and "women" a t a l l is exposed
in Austen's sympathetic depiction of Eleanor Tilney. I t seems to
show an h o s t i l i t y a g a i n s t w om en's ev en h a v in g b a s i c n e e d s
35
f u l f i l l e d , for i t is a way of making women fe e l g u ilty . Today, the
"fem inization of poverty1 1 atta c k s many formerly "privileged" women.
Women o f c o lo r can te a c h t h a t m erely working o u ts id e th e home i s
/ /
no t th e answ er. M eanwhile, d e m y th o lo g iz in g the p u b l i c / p r i v a t e
s p l i t can soften d is tin c tio n s between women who work outside and
inside the home.
The lo g ic a l extension of Austen’s rethinking of women’s issues
could also heal the perception of lesbians th a t s tra ig h ts want to
d is a v o w h o m o s e x u a l i t y , and th e g u i l t o f h e te r o s e x u a ls fo r
" c o l l u s i o n i s t " love w ith "the enemy.” Seeing th e problem as th e
c u l t u r e , th e way we a re ta u g h t to th in k , and moving beyond the
concept of innate or e te rn a l difference between the genders, is to
hope th a t both women and men can be worthy of love. Loosening the
o p p o s itio n between p u b lic and d o m e stic w i l l a ls o l i g h t e n th e
s i g n i f i c a n c e of w hether we choose to sh are our homes w ith a
homosexual or a heterosexual p artn er, for liv in g with someone e lse ,
even a very beloved person, ceases to be the defining act of one's
being. I t can a ls o f r e e th e i n s t i t u t i o n o f th e fa m ily from th e
claustrophobia and secrecy which, as Austen's novels show, shields
th e c r u e l t y o f G eneral T iln e y and th e sim p le p ig g is h n e s s o f Dr.
Grant, in sp ite of Henry Tilney's f a ith in "voluntary spies."
Even th e c u r r e n t d eb ate betw een eq u al r i g h t s and s p e c i a l
p r i v i l e g e s fa d e s when looked a t from a p e r s p e c tiv e i n s p ir e d by
A usten's f i c t i o n . I t i s a m is le a d in g o p p o s itio n , in which women
are e ith e r constrained to compare ourselves with men, proving th a t
36
th ey have so m eth in g , t h e r e f o r e we d eserv e i t , or d e fin e d as
" s p e c ia l," "o th e r." We must demand t h a t our c u l t u r e sim ply
accommodate women's needs a s a u t o m a t i c a l l y as i t does m en's,
w ith o u t pushing women to e i t h e r a co m p arativ e p o s it i o n or one
la b e le d as d i f f e r e n t from th e "norm." Our governm ent, la w s, and
so c ia l supports should be made to t r e a t women as i f we are as fu lly
th e norm as men. They must sim p ly take women i n t o acco u n t as
n a tu ra lly as they do men. W e should not have to prove th a t men get
something therefore women deserve i t , for men have never had to do
t h a t b e fo re they were recompensed more amply than women. But
n e ith e r should women have to fe e l g u ilty for needing supports lik e
pregnancy le a v e . Our s o c ie ty needs to acknowledge t h a t i t s own
i n t e r e s t s demand making p o s s ib le women's a b i l i t y to both have
children and the careers to care for them.
/
I f we a c c e p t t h a t women and men a re e q u a lly i n d i v i d u a l and
equally open to reform, then we do not want to exclude men from our
v i s i o n s o f new f e m i n i s t w o rld s, however th ey have been t r e a t e d
b e tte r than women in the past. They should be excluded only on the
a ssu m p tio n t h a t i t i s in man's n a tu r e t h a t sexism l i e s . But th e
hardship and danger for women l i e s in how both women and men have
been train ed to think of women as unimportant. Michele Zim balist
Rosaldo has argued t h a t th e o p p re ss io n o f women i s caused by how
/
both women and men a re ta u g h t to th in k women " u n i n t e r e s t i n g and
i r r e l e v a n t . I n t h a t c a s e , we do n o t want to exclude men from
our v isio n s of fem in ist fu tu res, because we no longer accept th a t
37
i t i s sim p ly man's n a tu re which damages women. T h e refo re what I
th in k we want i s no t a "w om an-centered" w o rld , f o r t h a t im p lie s
th a t one gender must be c e n tra l and one excluded. Instead, we must
work tow ard what I c a l l a "g en d er-fo cu se d " and s p e c i f i c a l l y , a
"woman-focused" v ision, in which we try to see issues of gender and
to see women as autom atically as we have been trained to notice and
to care about men. The solution then becomes focusing p a rtic u la rly
on women because we have so much to discover about "the i n te r e s t of
women's l i v e s ," 0£- but no t to c la im t h a t women a re m o ra lly b e t t e r
than other humans. This is Austen's choice, and her subject.
I have pointed to one way in which Austen depicts the in te r e s t
of women and women's liv e s in Northanger Abbey's discussion of the
n ovel. I tu rn now to a n o th e r, to C h a r lo tte Lucas in P rid e and
Prejudice, th a t character so often cited as the p erso n ificatio n of
c h e e r f u l s a c r i f i c e to th e e x ig e n c ie s o f h e r s o c ie ty . For, th e
tra d itio n a l sense th a t Austen is conservative, the notion th a t she
i s committed to the p a tria rc h a l so cia l values of her culture, and,
a t the same time, th a t she deals with lim ited and t r i v i a l issues in
women's l i v e s , a l l th e s e a t t i t u d e s a re in c o r p o ra te d i n to th e
assumptions c r i t i c s have made about Austen’s rendering of Charlotte
Lucas.
* • • • *
38
The example of C harlotte Lucas i s im portant because she is the
character so many readers use to depict Austen as a conservative.
But also, her p ortrayal embodies major aspects of Austen's method,
a s p e c ts which have not been a d e q u a te ly d is c u s s e d : h e r sen se o f
humor and hope, and h e r c o n tin u a l concern fo r women. I want to
show how a f e m in is t re a d in g o f A usten's re n d e rin g o f th e union
betw een C h a r lo tte Lucas and Mr. C o llin s w i l l d e m o n stra te t h a t
Austen seeks to defend women from a c cep ted norms f o r women, no t
recommend conformity to them.
Among re a d e rs who see Austen as a c o n s e r v a tiv e , many t r y to
prove i t by p o in tin g to th e d e c is io n to m arry Mr. C o llin s which
Charlotte Lucas makes in Pride and Prejudice. They e x tra c t a moral
in which Austen seek s to fo rc e i n t e l l i g e n t women to s a c r i f i c e
themselves to the demands of the p a tria rc h a l, misogynist culture,
one which provides women no other way of caring for themselves than
marriage. ^Both Tave and Morgan have shown th a t th is is specious,
t h a t Austen, in s te a d o f d e fe n d in g , d e p lo re s C h a r lo tte Lucas's
c h o ice. Tave d e m o n stra te s th e l o s s e s o f s e l f , o f p e r c e p tio n , o f
eyes and e a r s , which C h a r lo tte w i l l s u f f e r when m a rrie d to Mr.
C o l l i n s . ^3 Morgan shows how C h a r l o t t e 's unro m an tic c y n ic ism ,
g e n e r a l i z a t i o n s , and c e r t a i n t y v i o l a t e s A u s te n 's c o n t i n u a l
commitment to p a rtic u la rs and an involved l i f e . ^ But the ten acity
w ith which f e m i n i s t as w e ll as t r a d i t i o n a l r e a d e rs c o n tin u e to
invoke Charlotte Lucas as proof th a t Austen advocates conservative
conformity, leads me to argue, from yet another perspective, th a t
39
Austen does not support C harlotte's decision. My perspective w ill
be to look a t how Austen perm its us to imagine what a woman would
s u ffe r when having sex with William Collins.
Austen is very c le a r about the pressures on women to marry in
\
contemporary p a tria rc h a l culture. As she w rites to her niece Fanny
Knight, "Single Women have a dreadful propensity for being poor—
which is one very strong argument in favor of Matrimony, but I need
not dwell on such arguments with you, p re tty Dear, you do .not want
i n c l i n a t i o n . " (L 483) This i s a lau g h in g rem ark, but i t i s a l s o
true. Single women are usually poor. In th is c u ltu re , income and
property are given to men; i f women want i t , they are supposed to
g et i t from husbands. But lik e a l l trickle-dow n th eo rie s, th is one
does n o t work. C h a r lo tte Lucas w i l l have no more money or power
when m arried than when s i n g l e : W illiam C o l l i n s 's income a t
Hunsford and future inheritance of Longbourn remain h is, not hers,
and his death would force her, lik e Mrs. Bennet, to leave.
/
But of course i t is not ju s t money which single women lack; i t
is general respect. B riefly but viv id ly Austen shows the pressure
on Charlotte to get married by the sheer magnitude of her fam ily's
s a tis fa c tio n when she accepts Mr. C ollins.
/
The whole fam ily in short were properly overjoyed on the
occasion. The younger g i r l s formed hopes of coming out a
year or two sooner than they might otherwise have done;
and th e boys were r e l ie v e d from t h e i r ap p re h e n sio n of
C h a rlo tte 's dying an old maid. (PP 122)
The culture decrees th a t C harlotte's remaining single deprives her
s i s t e r s of what Elizabeth Bennet c a lls t h e i r "share of society and
40
am usem ent,” (165) when she arg u e s a g a i n s t th e custom which keeps
younger women a t home u n t i l th e e l d e r a re m a rrie d . But worse is
th e p s y c h o lo g ic a l i n t i m i d a t i o n o f C h a r l o t t e ’s b r o th e r s who have
/
been a f r a i d t h a t she would d ie an old maid. They do n o t th in k o f
h e r as a person. T h eir th in k in g c o l l a p s e s C h a r l o t t e 's l i f e ; i t
jumps from her c u r r e n t age, 27, to h er d e a th , as i f h e r l i f e as a
s in g l e person in betw een cannot m a tte r . They a re more h e a r t l e s s
than even Lydia Bennet who says of her s i s t e r , "Jane w ill be quite
an old maid soon, I declare." (221) H arriet Smith in Emma thinks
in th e s e te rm s , to o . But f o r Austen, t h e i r c o n c lu s io n s tu rn out
not to be thought a t a l l . These characters only mindlessly r e f l e c t
the prejudices of the p a tria rch y —exactly the s ta s is which readers
have f o r so long wanted to p in on Austen. I t i s tim e t h a t we
acknowledge how Austen w ants to b rin g us beyond such i n a c t i o n of
!
m in d , t h a t we s e e how f u l l y sh e w a n ts to c h a n g e b o th o u r
imagination and the stru c tu re of the c u ltu re .
Charlotte Lucas s t a r t s out in Pride and Prejudice as a v isib ly
independent thinker who r e je c ts the c u ltu re 's form ulations of true
love and romance. But she ends up absorbed i n t o th e i d e n t i t y o f
the person she m arries, who says, "My dear C harlotte and I have but
one mind and one way o f th in k in g ." (216) I t i s a t e r r i b l e
a p p r o p r ia tio n o f a n o th e r person i n t o h im s e lf . We know t h a t Mr.
Collins i s crowing and also self-deceived, but, as Morgan says, "we
shudder fo r the ways in which Mr. C o l l i n s 's cla im i s becoming
t r u e . " ^ The r e v e l a t i o n o f how e n t i r e l y C h a r l o t t e 's im a g in a tio n
41
now operates a t the service of her spouse comes la te in the novel.
In the midst of a l l the hubbub over Lydia's elopement, Mr. Collins
w rite s to Mr. Bennet to g lo at over the fa c t th a t he was not able to
m arry E liz a b e th , " fo r had i t been o th e r w is e , I must have been
in v o lv ed in a l l your sorrow and d is g r a c e ." He a l s o t e l l s us t h a t
"my dear C h a r lo tte in fo rm s me, t h a t t h i s l i c e n t i o u s n e s s of
behaviour in your daughter, has proceeded from a fau lty degree of
i n d u l g e n c e , " (297) to w a r d L y d ia fro m Mr. and M rs. B e n n e t.
C h a r lo tte may be r i g h t , but we f e e l h e r c o n t r ib u t i o n to Mr.
C o l l i n s 's g o s s ip w ith Lady C a th e rin e , and to h is trium ph over Mr.
Bennet, as a betrayal of her friendship w ith Elizabeth Bennet. At
a tim e when she should be sad fo r and w o rrie d about h er f r i e n d ,
C harlotte jo in s or a t le a s t co n trib u tes to the ex u ltatio n over the
disgrace of Elizabeth's family.
Because C h a r lo tte m a rrie s a s e lf - a b s o r b e d man, she ends up
■ V
absorbed in to him ra th e r than able to m aintain her separate s e lf.
This i s why we a re given so many f i n a l g lim p se s o f C h a r lo tte and
why these visions are so lim ited . Elizabeth's l a s t thoughts about
C h a r lo tte when le a v in g Hunsford come im m e d ia te ly a f t e r Mr.
C o l l i n s 's b o rin g s e l f - c o n g r a t u l a t i o n on th e unanam ity o f mind
between him self and Charlotte; she thinks, "Poor C harlotte!—I t was
melancholy to leave her to such society." But, Elizabeth r e a liz e s ,
"she had chosen i t w ith h e r eyes open." The com pensation i s t h a t
"her home and h er h o u sekeeping, h e r p a r i s h and h e r p o u ltr y ," "had
no t y e t l o s t t h e i r charm s." (216) This le a v e s us in doubt and
42
confirms th a t we w ill never know for sure what Charlotte su ffe rs,
because t h a t i s what we do not know ab o u t most o th e r people. But
A usten’s very word "charms" can l e t us u n d e rsta n d t h a t we a re not
to v alu e too h ig h ly the s o r t o f p le a s u re C h a r lo tte f in d s in her
r o u t i n e s . I t i s a word Austen o f te n u ses to show only d e c e p tiv e
a ttra c tiv e n e ss . By the end of the novel, Charlotte appears only as
Mr. C o l l i n s 's p reg n an t " w ife ," chased away by Lady C a th e rin e de
Bourgh's anger a t the coming marriage of Mr. Darcy and C harlotte's
f r i e n d E liz a b e th Bennet. This i s n o t a good end f o r a fo rm e rly
I
in d ep en d en tly -m in d ed woman, and should make c l e a r A usten's
disapproval of marriage for money.
But Poovey p r e s e n t s C h a r l o t t e L u c a s 's c h o ic e a s a
r e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f A usten's " r e a l i s m , " ^ "when C h a r lo tte Lucas
r e je c ts romance, she does so for i t s opposite, the m a tte r-o f-fa c t
a s se s sm e n t t h a t a 'c o m fo rta b le home' i s more s u b s t a n t i a l than
romantic f a n ta s ie s ." ^ But such an opposition between romance and
r e a l i s m does an i n j u s t i c e to th e p o s s i b i l i t i e s Austen e n v is io n s .
Charlotte Lucas, for a l l her supposed independence, proceeds to do
j u s t what she has been ta u g h t: m arry a man who w i l l make use o f
her. To Austen, Charlotte e rrs by a lto g eth er discarding love and
romance when she r e b e l s a g a i n s t th e sta n d a rd n o tio n s o f them.
Through Mr. Collins' inane gestures and speeches, Austen shows how
profoundly we need to reform our ideas of true love. But Charlotte
chooses the wrong way. This c h a r a c t e r f e e l s t h a t som ething i s
wrong, but in s te a d o f c a rin g f o r h e r own l i f e , she chooses
43
conformity to the e sta b lish ed codes. C harlotte's mistake is th a t
her independence of mind extends only to conventional cynicism; she
never stops judging her l i f e by the usual terms. By acquiescing to
the code and m arry in g Mr. C o llin s , C h a r lo tte sees h e r s e l f as
escaping a p itia b le fa te as an "old maid." But Austen's lo y alty to
women shows us th a t there are worse fates for a woman than th a t—
e sp e c ia lly "being bound w ithout Love" in marriage. (L 418) Austen
shows us in P rid e and P r e ju d ic e t h a t women need to do more than
Charlotte Lucas. W e can not only r e je c t the c u ltu re 's stereotypes,
we must r e f u s e to judge our l i v e s by them. At t h a t p o in t, as
A usten's n o v els c o n s ta n tl y prom ise us, we can do som ething more
in te re stin g . W e may develop new ways of thinking about ourselves,
and ab o u t love. This i s h a rd , Austen shows, but no t so d i f f i c u l t
as we think.
To in te rp r e t r ig h tly Charlotte Lucas' decision, we need a new
approach to A usten's im a g in a tiv e method in g e n e r a l. Austen was
proud o f what she c a l l e d the "epigram m atism " o f P rid e and
P r e ju d ic e . I t i s one o f th e a s p e c t s which makes h e r h a n d lin g of
C h a r lo tte Lucas so i n t e r e s t i n g , y e t i t i s what r e a d e r s have
co n siste n tly overlooked in in te rp re tin g her. W e need to learn from
as w e ll as enjoy the humor and lu d ic ro u s c o n t r a d i c t io n in
C harlotte's thoughts. W e are told th a t, "Without thinking highly
e i t h e r o f men or o f m atrim ony, m a rria g e had alw ays been her
o b je c t." Now, i t i s r i d i c u l o u s f o r a p erso n who does n o t th in k
h ig h ly e i t h e r o f men or m atrim ony to have m a rria g e alw ays as h er
44
o b je c t. Yet many r e a d e r s have tak en t h i s as a s e n tim e n t Austen
advocates.
The c r i t i c a l c o n s e n s u s h a s been t h a t A u ste n s u p p o r t s
C h a r lo tte Lucas's d e c is io n to m arry Hr. C o llin s . Arguments fo r
th is view usually r e s t upon an acceptance of the current economic
and so c ia l stru c tu re . Mark Schorer is emblematic,
a s in g l e woman w ith o u t a fo rtu n e must be in want o f a
husband who has one. I f t h i s i s n o t to be ach iev ed ,
m a r r i a g e to an i m b e c i l e (Mr. C o l l i n s ) . . . i s a
plau sib le second-best. And i f even th i s i s impossible,
then m a rria g e to anyone a t a l l * . . but under any
circumstances, marriage, marriage!
Some r e a d e rs go so f a r as to read C h a r l o t t e 's re a so n in g as
r e p r e s e n t a t i v e Austen. G i l b e r t and Gubar a s s e r t t h a t , " lik e
Charlotte Lucas, many an Austen heroine, 'without thinking highly
o f men or o f m atrim o n y ,' c o n s id e rs m a rria g e 'th e only honourable
provision for well-educated young women, [and however uncertain of
g iv in g h a p p in e s , must be] t h e i r p l e a s a n t e s t p r e s e r v a t i v e from
w a n t.'"^9 ( s ic ) For Newman, "The c a r e f u l e ig h t e e n t h - c e n t u r y
b a lan ce o f c la u s e s in t h i s passage em phasizes th e c o n f l i c t i n g
forces women encounter in culture." To Newman, "The unresolvable
c o n flic ts inherent in her [C h arlo tte's] s itu a tio n are expressed in
the c h a r a c te r is tic Austenian balance the n o v e list in h e rits from the
70
Augustans."'u Newman d i s t o r t s A usten's sim p le c o n t r a d i c t i o n s as
"unresolvable c o n flic ts ," then goes on to argue th a t Charlotte is
rig h t to have marriage as her o bject, and to marry, even though she
does not think highly of men or matrimony. Newman even c a lls the
45
b e lie f th a t Charlotte should not so squander her l i f e "a sin g u larly
ungenerous judgment."^1
O thers quote C h a r l o t t e 's " to le r a b ly composed" re fle c tio n s as
straightforw ard Austen. For Judith Lowder Newton,
I t is in the p arag rap h on C h a r l o t t e 's own r e f l e c t i o n s
th a t we come c lo se st to seeing her as the victim of those
economic and so c ia l forces which tend to reduce genteel
unmarried women to the standard of merchandise: 'Without
thinking highly. . . . ' ? 2
Schorer does the same; he says: "Jane Austen, w ritin g of Charlotte
Lucas, i s on t h i s o c c a sio n no l e s s c l e a r : 'C h a r lo tte h e r s e l f was
t o l e r a b l y c o m p o se d ’" and he q u o t e s th r o u g h "m u st be t h e i r
p le a sa n te st preservative from want." Schorer comments, "marriage
as a b ru ta l economic fa c t in an e s se n tia lly m a te r ia lis tic so c ie ty —
a l l t h i s i s th e groundwork ou t o f which P rid e and P r e ju d ic e ,
to g e th e r w ith Jane A usten’s o th e r n o v e ls , a r i s e s . B u t Austen
h e rs e lf never succumbed to these supposedly in e s c a p a b le economic
f a c t s . In E lin o r Dashwood's p h ra se , how th ey c o n tr iv e th e se
conclusions without re fle c tin g on the character of the author, who
h e r s e l f never m a rrie d , I know n o t. But I want to show t h a t
C h a r lo tte Lucas's th o u g h ts , w ith t h e i r c o n t r a d i c t i o n s and i l l -
l o g i c , i s n o t what Austen a c c e p ts as good th in k in g , t h a t i s , what
tru ly questions and reaches beyond standard truism s. The problem
w ith c r i t i c s who see Austen as m in d le s s ly r e f l e c t i n g e i t h e r the
views or the contrad ictio n s in the cu ltu re , is th a t they overlook
th o se she works a g a i n s t . The c o n t r a d i c t i o n in C h a r l o t t e ’s
reasoning is something Austen wants us to see as outrageous.
46
Few f e m i n i s t s today would argue t h a t women have ach iev ed
l i b e r a t i o n , m ean in g fu l power, or even r e a l d i g n i t y , in our
treatm ent by the world where we liv e . But th a t i s the im plication
of the assumption th a t women today are b e tte r able to r e s i s t se x ist
p r e s s u r e s th an in A usten's tim e . Such re a so n in g presum es t h a t
though women need not now marry for se lf-p re se rv a tio n , Charlotte
Lucas must because she e x i s t s in a more p r i m i t i v e p e rio d . And
more, such r e a d e rs i n s i s t t h a t Austen must su p p o rt such a s e l f
d e stru ctiv e choice. Our feminism needs to avoid a fa lse sense of
h is to r ic a l progress, which, u n fa irly s lig h tin g the strength of our
predecessors, fa ls e ly reckons on a f a i r e r system today.
But A usten's p o r t r a y a l o f the r i f t s and c o n t r a d i c t i o n s in
C harlotte's thinking does not end with these lin e s. The n a rra to r
t e l l s us t h a t C h a r l o t t e ' s " r e f l e c t i o n s w ere i n g e n e r a l
s a t i s f a c t o r y . Mr. C o llin s to be su re was n e i t h e r s e n s i b l e nor
agreeable; his society was irksome and his attachment to her must
be imaginary." (122) W e see Charlotte here accepting the united
f a c t s t h a t she d e t e s t s Mr. C o llin s , and t h a t he cannot t r u l y love
h e r. And we a lr e a d y know t h a t t h i s man i s c a p ab le only o f th e
p r e te n s e o f a tta c h m e n t. Yet C h a r lo tte c o n so le s h e r s e l f f o r the
ways t h a t she and Mr. C o llin s do not c a re ab o u t each o th e r by
t e l l i n g h e r s e l f , " b u t s t i l l he w ould be h e r h u s b a n d ," a
"satisfac to ry " r e fle c tio n , re fle c tin g her sense of refuge in having
a husband. Through Charlotte, Austen demonstrates the ways th at a
47
woman can f e e l d riv e n to m arry j u s t to g e t a husband, in s p i t e of
any other feelin g , what Elizabeth c a lls "every b e tte r feeling."
C h a r lo tte may say t h a t she i s d r iv e n , bu t A usten's p o in t i s
t h a t women do have a c h o ic e . I t i s a ls o no t to say t h a t Austen
propounds "female a u t o n o m y , o r th a t E lizabeth’s disillu sio n m en t
w ith C h a r lo tte is founded on a b e l i e f in "a c a t e g o r i c a l l y f r e e
w i l l , w ith o u t s o c i a l d i s t o r t i o n o r q u a l i f i c a t i o n . " ^ C h a r lo tte
cannot choose to l i v e in a d i f f e r e n t tim e o r p la c e , or in a
reform ed c u l t u r e . None o f us can do t h a t . But she can s e a rc h
f a r t h e r than she does. Austen t e l l s us t h a t women can r e s i s t the
c u l t u r e 's s te r e o t y p e s about us; we need no t m arry j u s t so c a llo w
people l i k e the Lucas b r o th e r s , Lydia Bennet, and H a r r i e t Smith
w i l l no t c a l l us "old m aids." There i s a more ominous meaning in
Charlotte Lucas's words of self-com fort, however. No m atter how
l i t t l e Mr. Collins loves her, or how much he disgusts her, " s t i l l "
he would be her husband. What C h a r lo tte se e s as the good s id e ,
Austen presents as only an extension of wrong-headed thinking, of
contrad ictio n s labeled as logic. C harlotte does not love th is man,
nor he her, but s t i l l , always, he w ill be her husband.
But th e r e i s a f u r t h e r , and more d r a s t i c c o n t r a d i c t i o n , in
C h a r l o t t e 's "pure and d i s i n t e r e s t e d d e s i r e o f an e s ta b lis h m e n t."
The words "pure" and "d isin terested " represent concepts the novels
v a lu e . T h e refo re t h e r e can be no such th in g a s a pure and
d i s i n t e r e s t e d " d e s ir e o f an e s ta b lis h m e n t." Pure, d isin te re ste d
f e e l i n g s do n o t m arry f o r th e sake o f a house and c h ic k e n s. They
48
are free from, not f u l l of, greed. Austen emphasizes the e rro r of
C harlotte's decision by informing us th at Charlotte does not re a lly
ev er g e t th e e s ta b lis h m e n t h e r n o t - d i s i n t e r e s t e d d e s i r e s seek.
Charlotte does not get her own house. Charlotte gives up l i f e as a
" s in g le woman" to l i v e under th e command o f both h e r spouse and
Lady C a th e rin e . But r a t h e r than preach through open p r o t e s t ,
Austen com m unicates th ro u g h h e r m irth . A usten's sense o f humor
p o r tr a y s th e c o n t r a d i c t i o n s by which women t a l k th e m se lv e s i n to
doing what the cu lture commands. To Austen, women's performance of
th e p a t r i a r c h y 's im p e r a tiv e s can only be accom plished through
s p e c io u s re a so n in g and lo g ic t h a t i n v e r t s i t s te rm s , c a l l i n g
\
everything by the wrong names. To make C harlotte Lucas's choice,
Austen shows t h a t a woman must l i e to h e r s e l f , t w i s t h er v a lu e s ,
accept the ridiculous and the cynical as the norm, in order to take
the c u ltu re 's wrong-headed myths for tru th . The myth i s th a t women
m a t t e r too l i t t l e f o r th e q u a l i t y o f our l i v e s to be an im p o rta n t
i s s u e .
Since Austen w rite s novels, not tr a c t s , she is an a r t i s t , not
a m o ra list. W e must cease in te rp re tin g Charlotte Lucas's thoughts
about m arry in g Mr. C o llin s as sound l o g i c , or a s t r a i g h t f o r w a r d
m oral to be l i f t e d from t h e i r c o n te x t. C h a r lo tte i s no t a d i r e c t
m outhpiece f o r h e r a u th o r. When many c r i t i c s look f o r an Austen
enforcing p a tria rc h a l ru le s by complacently le c tu rin g the prudence
of women's conformity, or one who lectu res th a t because women are
denied c a r e e r s , they must form t h e i r l i v e s th ro u g h m a rria g e ,
49
whether w ith or without love, they d i s t o r t Pride and Prejudice and
A usten's o th e r f i c t i o n s . We need to acco u n t f o r the way A usten's
humor a c tu a lly operates in the novels to make women question and
r e j e c t anti-w om en c o n v e n tio n s. A usten's f i c t i o n demands a more
complicated in te rp re ta tio n because her thought is more complicated
than most r e a d e r s have a llo w e d . I n s te a d , h e r work shows us
something contradictory, and hence laughable. W e are supposed to
have fun, to laugh. But w h ile we do, we must wonder about the
c o n trad ictio n Austen has posed. What is i t which compells a women
who does not lik e men or matrimony to seek marriage? How can she
have a pure and d i s i n t e r e s t e d d e s i r e o f an e s ta b lis h m e n t? What
does i t mean to rush through courtship to a hurried marriage simply
because th e c o u r ts h ip phase i s m arred by th e " s t u p i d i t y " o f the
prospective spouse?
These are questions put to us by an author who knows th a t our
answers w ill condemn the c u ltu re 's use of women's liv e s for i t s own
ends. This is an a u th o r who t e l l s women t h a t we need not g iv e
ourselves away as C harlotte does. S elf-p reserv atio n may not bring
wealth, but i t does preserve a c e rta in in te g rity of s e lf , something
which Miss Bates of Emma su stain s while C harlotte Lucas does not.
* * • * *
In Pride and Prejudice, Austen p o r tr a y s a woman's c o n n e c tio n
to a r e p e l l e n t man through E liz a b e th B ennet's p h y s ic a l r e p u ls io n
50
from Mr. Collins:
The f i r s t two d an ces, however, brought a r e t u r n o f
d i s t r e s s ; th ey were dances o f m o r t i f i c a t i o n . Mr.
C o llin s , awkward and solem n, a p o lo g is in g in s te a d o f
attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of
i t , g av e h e r a l l th e shame and m i s e r y w h ich a
d i s a g r e e a b le p a r t n e r f o r a couple o f dances can g iv e .
The moment of her release from him was exstacy. (90)
Austen could h a rd ly g iv e us a more v iv id re n d e rin g o f a woman
disgusted by a man's boorish self-ab so rp tio n . Here, where dancing
i s an emblem for romantic as w ell as physical contact, Elizabeth's
ecstasy of release is f e l t , not with Mr. C ollins, as i t should be,
but from him. W e may imagine what sex would be lik e with a man who
pays so l i t t l e a tte n tio n to anything beyond him self th at he often
moves wrong w ith o u t knowing i t . " D i s t r e s s ," " m o r t i f i c a t i o n ,"
"shame," and "m ise ry ," a re the f e e l i n g s which Mr. C o l l i n s 's
in a tte n tio n to h is p artn er and the dance cause Elizabeth.
As a d escription of Elizabeth's predicament, th is episode has
i t s laughable side. Women, a t le a s t, a l l know what th is s itu a tio n
i s l i k e . "All th e" shame and m ise ry o f a couple of dances i s a
g r e a t d e a l. But what we n o t i c e when we come back to t h i s moment
/
with Charlotte in mind, i s th a t, for Elizabeth, i t does end. When
once m a rrie d to Mr. C o l l i n s , t h e r e can be no such r e l e a s e f o r
C h a r l o t t e — only the "m isery" which i s th e cause o f such e c s ta c y .
When we re-im agine Elizabeth's experience with Mr. Collins in terms
o f C h a r lo tte , we know t h a t a woman’s shame and m isery w ith an
i n c o n s i d e r a t e , awkward p a r t n e r i s no jo k in g m a tte r . I th in k we
must wonder whether the so-called ind ig n ity of being termed an "old
51
maid" i s not preferable to the in d ig n ity of sex w ith so in se n sitiv e
a partner. W e may even surmise th a t C harlotte's s itu a tio n is not
improved by the fa c t th a t she has never liked "men or matrimony" in
the f i r s t place.
Austen shows th a t the c u ltu re 's ru le s allow William Collins to
p lague women, to have power over t h e i r enjoym ent, in a way t h a t
women a re never allo w ed w ith men. E liz a b e th "was te a z e d by Mr.
C ollins, who continued most perseveringly her side, and though he
could no t p r e v a i l w ith h e r to dance w ith him a g a in , put i t ou t o f
her power to dance with others." (102) Caroline Bingley, fo r a l l
h e r a s s i d u i t y , i s never a b le to so p e s te r F i t z w i l l i a m Darcy.
Austen i s showing how th e p a t r i a r c h y 's c o n v e n tio n s a llo w men to
form or callo u sly deform women's pleasure. Rather than submit to
dance again with Mr. Collins, Elizabeth w i l l not dance a t a l l . She
is chagrined th a t th is in se n sitiv e man prevents her from enjoying
h e r evening as she would w ish. This m a t t e r s , but i s minor when
compared to how h is p re se n c e w i l l shadow h er f r ie n d C h a r l o t t e 's
l i f e . And, in case we im agine t h a t she i s a b le to escape i t ,
Austen in fo rm s us t h a t C h a r lo tte does have sex w ith Mr. C o llin s .
In t r u e p a t r i a r c h a l form , Mr. C o llin s b rag s to Mr. Bennet in a
l e t t e r , "about his dear C harlotte's s itu a tio n , and his expectation
of a young olive-branch." (364) The word "expectation" means th a t
Charlotte is expecting a child. What we need to notice is how Mr.
C o llin s p o r tr a y s i t as h i s own, as an o l i v e branch f o r h i s own
52
p u rp o ses. I t w i l l be C h a r l o t t e 's r i s k , but a p p r o p r ia te d by Mr.
C ollins.
Mr. C o llin s i s no t a h a rm le ss "stupe." He does r e a l damage.
He t r i e s to harm E liz a b e th , e s s e n t i a l l y t h r e a t e n i n g h er w ith a
promise not to reproach her a f t e r th e ir marriage for her re la tiv e
d o w e r le s s n e s s — which he h a s, i f n o t cau sed , a t l e a s t b e n e f ite d
from. He menaces her with in sinuations th a t his is her only chance
for love or marriage. He in te rf e r e s for i l l during Lydia Bennet's
elopement by gossiping about the Bennets with Lady Catherine. He
seems even to t r y to p re v e n t E liz a b e th 's m a rria g e to Mr. Darcy.
But most o f a l l , he h u m i l i a t e s and d i s g u s t s C h a rlo tte by h is
p e r p e tu a l p r o p r i e t a r y z e a l. His b r u t a l i t y has been c o n t i n u a l l y
underestim ated.
Some of the f in e s t Austen readers, while showing th a t Austen
disapproves of C harlotte's decision and would never allow her own
p r o ta g o n is t to sto o p to i t , n e v e r t h e l e s s .accep t the myth t h a t
C h a r lo tte i s made t o l e r a b l y happy by h e r m a rria g e . Yasmine
Gooneratne comments, "When Elizabeth la t e r v i s i t s Charlotte and Mr.
C o llin s a t Hunsford P arso n ag e, she i s fo rc e d to ad m it t h a t h er
frien d , despite her own gloomy forebodings, appears contented with
h er l o t , " 76 w h ile J u l i e t McMaster arg u es t h a t " C h a rlo tte i s not
severely punished and manages to be reasonably happy in her home a t
H unsford, p a r t i c u l a r l y when h e r husband i s n o t a t hand."77 For
Tony Tanner,
Charlotte of course demonstrates the complete triumph of
c o n sc io u s c a l c u l a t i o n over spontaneous em otion by h e r
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d e c i s i o n to m a r ry Mr. C o l l i n s . . . .Of c o u r s e Mr.
C o l l i n s 's company i s 'irk so m e ' b u t, in h er ey es, th e
s ta te of marriage, as a 'preservative from want*, is much
more im p o rta n t than th e a c t u a l man who makes up the
m a rria g e . As E liz a b e th r e a l i z e s when she sees them
m a rrie d , C h a r lo tte w i l l su rv iv e by having re c o u rs e to
s e l e c t i v e i n a t t e n t i o n , d e r iv in g s a t i s f a c t i o n from th e
house and s c re e n in g out as f a r as p o s s i b l e th e man who
provided i t .
D a r r e ll M ansell g iv e s t h i s an g le a n o th e r t w i s t : "Although
E liz a b e th i s convinced th ey can n ev er be happy t o g e t h e r , Jane
disagrees; and the novel comes a l i t t l e clo ser to confirming Jane's
d i s t u r b i n g o p in io n th an h e r s i s t e r ' s . "^9 Jane B ennet's i s n o t a
d i s t u r b i n g o p in io n ; she m erely hopes t h a t th e couple lo v es each
o th e r more th an o u t s i d e r s can g u ess. But th e r e i s no excuse f o r
readers to be misled.
W e cannot deceive ourselves th a t C harlotte is happy, th a t she
ad ju sts to d islik in g William Collins while liv in g in tim a te ly with
him. W e know how repelled she continues to be by how co n sisten tly
she works to reduce t h a t in tim a c y . Mr. C o llin s i s no more
p a l a t a b l e to C h a rlo tte than to E liz a b e th ; h e r very masks and
adjustments reveal her d is ta s te . C harlotte's contrivances, as we
have seen, w ill not keep Mr. Collins away from her. They only make
our sense of how Charlotte abhores her husband more poignant. I t
is Austen's concern for women which makes us imagine the ugliness
o f C h a r l o t t e 's l i f e a f t e r h er m a rria g e . I t " c e r t a i n l y was n o t
unseldom," th a t "Mr. Collins said any thing of which his wife might
re a s o n a b ly be ashamed." I t i s hard to know which i s worse —
C h a r l o t t e ' s " f a i n t b l u s h , " o r h e r more " g e n e ra l" r e a c t i o n ,
54
" C h a r lo tte w is e ly did n o t h ear." (156) Let us make no m ista k e .
This is not a t r i v i a l annoyance. I t is re a l to rtu re .
Charlotte makes a grotesque s e t of compromises to c reate even
the appearance of liv in g in contentment. Supposing th a t her s e l f
d iv isio n represents happiness r a t h e r th an a p i t i f u l c o n s t r i c t i o n
s i g n i f i e s , I th in k , a warped a s s e n t to women’s u n happiness as
acceptable, as even the norm. This points to a c e n tra l fa c t about
th e method of A usten's books. Austen does n o t announce to
beholders th a t no one should be condemned to such a deformed l i f e .
Austen’s novels are continually constructed around the f a ith th a t
i f som ething i s r e a l , we w i l l be a b le to f ig u r e i t out. I f th e
n arrato r has to reinforce the horror of C harlotte’s compromises by
pointing them out, then she reveals an apprehension th a t they are
no t r e a l l y so h o r r i f y i n g as she th in k s . That is why th e n a r r a t o r
of Pride and Prejudice does n o t p r e s e n t , f o r i n s t a n c e , E liz a b e th
B ennet's fra n k th o u g h ts about h er f a t h e r u n t i l l a t e in th e n ovel.
That placement points out how we may have been lu lle d in to judging
his behavior acceptable simply because no o u trig h t condemnation has
heretofore been provided. Austen d is illu s io n s us, or releases us,
and te a c h e s about th e dangers o f a need f o r o u ts id e c o n f irm a tio n
b e fo re we re c o g n iz e m is c h ie f . In an Austen novel we need to be
more a c t i v e . Here we need to avow f o r o u r s e lv e s , w ith o u t th e
A ncient M a rin e r's m a rg in a l g l o s s e s , th e b l a t a n t p a in shown in
C h a r l o t t e 's av o idance of W illiam C o llin s , and how l i t t l e h er
avoidances p ro te ct her.
55
Austen's novels suggest th a t Charlotte Lucas, and a l l women,
d e serv e a b e t t e r f a t e than t h i s . C h a r l o t t e 's maimed l i f e is an
im portant issu e, and a p o l i t i c a l one. A woman's discom fort whether
dancing w ith or having sex w ith a man l i k e W illiam C o llin s is
created by the c u ltu re 's lop-sided ru le s, for he i s only able to do
e i t h e r because, as Henry T iln e y p o in ts o u t, men have the power of
ch o ice w h ile women have only th e r i g h t o f r e f u s a l . P rid e and
Prejudice shows us a t e r r i b l e consequence of th is . Mr. Collins is
a b le to have t h i s c o n ta c t w ith C h a r lo tte only because th e
entailm ent of Longbourn e ffe c tu a lly d is in h e rits the Bennet women in
favor of th e ir male cousin. Not only does custom deprive females
of independence, or ra th e r, of money, but i t ensures th a t otherwise
undesirable men w ill have the power to marry women superior to them
in every other way. Because Elizabeth Bennet has been deprived of
Bennet p r o p e r ty , h e r m other t r i e s to fo rc e h er to m arry Mr.
C o llin s , th e man who w i l l g e t i t . E liz a b e th , who t r i e s to te a c h
h e r m o th e r t o a c c e p t t h e c o n s e q u e n c e s o f th e e n t a i l m e n t ,
nevertheless refuses to perform what i t s existence is designed to
achieve. She does not allow the p atria rch y 's stratagem s to govern
h e r c h o ic e s ; she r e f u s e s to be s a c r i f i c e d to th e c i v i l i z a t i o n ' s
goal th a t unworthy men w ill be able to wed worthy women. But the
d e s tin e d passage o f t h a t p ro p e rty and income s t i l l cau ses e v i l .
Because of them, C harlotte Lucas i s w illin g to marry Mr. Collins.
Readers have argued th at concern for Charlotte is misplaced,
th a t her union with Mr. Collins i s a su ita b le match of unpleasant
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p e o p le , t h a t , a s M ansell sa y s, h e r "cool c a l c u l a t i n g ’s e n s e ,'"
m atches h is "design." M ansell arg u e s t h a t C h a r lo tte "seems
d e s tin e d by Heaven f o r Mr. C o llin s ," and t h a t
C h a r lo tte i s th e r e f o r e a f i t t i n g , i f no t q u ite p e r f e c t ,
mate fo r Mr C o llin s . Jane Austen has made h e r so. Mr
C o llin s says t h a t the two o f them seem to have been
destined fo r each other, and he may be r ig h t.00
There i s a c h a r a c te r in P rid e and P r e ju d ic e who would be a good
match for William C ollins, and th a t i s Mary Bennet. They are both
pompous, l i t e r a l , and u n f e e l i n g — n e ith e r could torment the other
with embarrassment. The p o s s ib ility of th e ir union is e x p lic itly
ra ise d , but thwarted by C harlotte's desperation. Austen shows how
the customs accepted as normal not only goad women lik e Charlotte
i n t o s e l f - b e t r a y a l , but a ls o p re v e n t people who a re w e l l - s u i t e d
from l a t c h i n g onto each o th e r . The b e l i e f t h a t women in g e n e r a l
without money must so marry r e f le c ts the c u ltu ra l hardheartedness
about women, which we now c a l l "sexism." The waste or in d ig n ity of
women's liv e s is part of how women are in v isib le in th is c u ltu re ,
and why i t i s so d i f f i c u l t to f i g h t th e o p p re ss io n o f women; th e
s ta n d a rd resp o n se i s to blame th e v ic tim . What I am a rg u in g
a g a i n s t i s th e n o tio n t h a t a woman must become a paragon o f
everything before we defend her against the c u ltu re 's in ju s tic e s .
The problem w ith the assumption th a t a woman must be seen as
w o n d erfu l b e fo re she is e n t i t l e d to our o u tra g e as an op p ressed
p erso n i s t h i s : women a re seldom seen as w o n d erfu l in t h i s
c u l t u r e . There i s alw ays an " e x te n u a tin g " d e f e c t found. By
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d e f i n i t i o n , women a re p e r i p h e r a l , p e c u l i a r - - n o t c e n t r a l , n o t, I
would argue, accepted as fu lly "human." The deception by which the
p a t r i a r c h y d elu d es women i n t o f e e l i n g g u i l t y , i s t h a t t h e r e a re
p e r f e c t women. C h a r lo tte th in k s h e r b e t r o t h a l to Mr. C o llin s is
"good lu c k " b e c a u s e sh e g e t s i t " w i t h o u t h a v in g e v e r been
handsome." (123) The id e a ls of angelic, b e a u tifu l, and b r i l l i a n t
women, p r o te s te d by Austen in N orthanger Abbey, d ece iv e us t h a t
perfection is possible, thereby absolving the cu ltu re of the duty
to sympathize with women who seem le ss. Women, in response, feel
u n e n t i t l e d to sympathy, o r to h elp . We need to p r o t e c t women
a g a i n s t e x p l o i t a t i o n r e g a r d l e s s o f w hether th ey s t r i k e us as
p le a s a n t people. I t does no t m a tte r i f C h a r lo tte Lucas i s not as
a t t r a c t i v e p e r s o n a lly or p h y s ic a ll y a s E liz a b e th Bennet. The
simple humanity of women should make Charlotte worthy of a b e tte r
fate. Austen's novels suggest th a t Charlotte Lucas, and a l l women,
deserve a b e tte r l i f e than Charlotte chooses for h e rse lf.
We must n o t c o n fu se C h a r l o t t e 's e r r o r t h a t she i s fo rc e d to
marry with an e rro r th a t her author sees i t as a f a i r conjunction.
Pride and Prejudice shows how C harlotte's choice i s wrong, but i t
also shows how men do not ever face such pressure to marry—hers is
a d e c is io n men w i l l n ev er have to c o n fro n t. They may have th e
o p tio n to m arry f o r money as John W illoughby and Edward F e r r a r s
have, but men a re n ev er to l d to m arry f o r t h e i r s e l f - r e s p e c t .
C h a r l o t t e L ucas s a c r i f i c e s h e r s e l f to o r d in a ry m iso g y n is t
im peratives for women, and many readers seem to fe e l th a t the loss
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she r e p r e s e n t s i s i n s i g n i f i c a n t . The f a c t o f h er overlooked
im p o rta n c e , how ever, i s e x a c tly what i s a t s ta k e . The c e n t r a l
is s u e i s w hether women m a tte r even when we a re no t th e most
b e a u tifu l, talen ted , and good. This is to ask whether we can make
a w orld where we have th e r i g h t to be o r d in a ry and y e t no t be
r e l e g a t e d to some v e rs io n of what E d ith Wharton w i l l c a l l the
"rubbish heap." For u n t i l we have th a t r ig h t, I want to argue, our
m e r its and a c h ie v e m e n ts — even b r i l l i a n t o n es— w i l l never be
recognized.
Today, f e m i n i s t s r o u t i n e l y c e l e b r a t e how s in g le n e s s is
p r e f e r a b l e to th e e x p l o i t a t i o n o f a m a rria g e l i k e C h a r l o t t e ’s,
because we accept th a t women m atter ap art from our re la tio n to men.
Why can we not grant Austen the same enlightenment? Our feminism
now includes love as w ell as independence as a good, in a way th at
A usten’s n o v e ls alw ays d id. In A usten's v i s i o n , b e fo re th e r e can
be love, there must be selfhood.
Austen i s no t p u t t i n g th e r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r C h a r l o t t e 's
stunted l i f e so le ly on Charlotte, but on u n fa ir demands made upon
women. However, she also shows th a t refusing to demean ourselves
a s th e c u l t u r e d i c t a t e s i s p o s s i b l e , i f , and t h i s i s th e g r e a t
c h a lle n g e , we are w i l l i n g to develop what I th in k we can c a l l a
fem in ist consciousness. I t does not mean th a t su fferin g w i l l end
or i n j u s t i c e go away. I t w i l l no t e l i m i n a t e rape or v i o l a t i o n .
But n e i t h e r does m a rria g e to c h a r a c t e r s l i k e Mr. C o llin s . In a
novel p e c u l i a r l y devoted to E lizab e th Bennet's continual feelings
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of awkwardness and embarrassment, or a t le a s t s itu a tio n s which are
awkward and embarrassed, E lizabeth’s repeated action is to smooth
over tim es where she fe e ls out of place or uncomfortable: when she
is publicly in su lted by Mr. Darcy, undesired a t N etherfield, shamed
by h e r f a m i l y , s t a r t l e d and u p s e t by Mr. D a rc y ’s s u r p r i s e
appearance a t Pem berley. For E liz a b e th , t h i s f e e l i n g commonly
ta k e s th e form of ’’shame and v e x a tio n .” (252) Austen l i n k s t h i s
to g en d er, but shows t h a t th e answ er i s not to abandon o n e s e lf .
For Austen i t is a question o f v isio n and of hope.
Many r e a d e rs t r e a t A usten's p r o ta g o n is t s as ’’e x c e p tio n a l
persons,"®^ and characters l i k e C h a r lo tte Lucas as ’’f o i l s , w h o
plod by in "the second-best world th a t most people except heroines
have to in h a b it." ^ But th i s s p l i t thinking about women, the r i f t
between h e ro in e s and humans i s e x a c tly what Austen re fo rm s.
Charlotte, lik e Shakespeare's Richard I I I , makes her lack o f beauty
her excuse for her acts. But Charlotte is also the person to whom
" i t a d m itte d n o t o f a doubt, t h a t a l l h e r f r i e n d 's [ E l i z a b e t h 's ]
d i s l i k e [ f o r Mr. Darcy] would v a n is h , i f she could suppose him to
be in h e r power." {181) This i s a r i d i c u l o u s m in im iz a tio n o f
Elizabeth's sense of h e rs e lf and her r e la tio n to love. The fa c t is
t h a t none o f A usten's p r o t a g o n i s t s make C h a r l o t t e 's d e c is io n :
E lin o r Dashwood, Fanny P r ic e , and Anne E l l i o t , l i k e E liz a b e th
Bennet, e x p l i c i t l y r e f u s e to c o n s id e r d u p l i c a t i n g C h a r l o t t e 's
marriage. Who can forget the eloquence of Fanny's "how wretched,
and how unpardonable, how hopeless and how wicked i t was, to marry
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w ith o u t a f f e c t i o n , 1 1 (MP 324) so s tr o n g l y echoed by A usten's own
loving advice to Fanny Knight th a t "Anything is to be preferred or
endured r a t h e r th an m arrying w ith o u t A ffe c tio n ." (L 410) Fanny
P r ic e , more t r u l y poor than C h a r lo tte , and e x p o n e n tia lly more
tim id , nonetheless r e s i s t s re a l bullying. C harlotte may say th a t
she i s fo rc e d , bu t she fa c e s n o th in g l i k e th e h a ra ssm e n t o f Fanny
from S ir Thomas Bertram or even what Elizabeth su ffe rs from Mrs.
Bennet.
The p o in t i s t h a t a l l o f u s, n o t j u s t h e r o in e s , can make
E liz a b e th 's c h o ic e , can r e f u s e to b e tr a y o u r s e lv e s even f o r th e
sake o f fab u lo u s w e a lth . P rid e and P r e ju d ic e w i l l no t l e t us
delude ourselves th a t Elizabeth has more opp o rtu n ities because she
i s more b e a u t i f u l than we. The way t h a t h e r face is "rendered
uncommonly i n t e l l i g e n t by th e b e a u t i f u l e x p re s s io n o f h e r dark
eyes," (PP 23) and "the liv e lin e s s of" her "mind," (380) are powers
open to us a l l . This i s not to dim inish Elizabeth's uniqueness but
to emphasize th a t charm and a ttra c tiv e n e ss are d iffe re n t in us a l l .
W e cannot be Elizabeth Bennet—she is sp ecial; but we can be fu lly
o u r s e lv e s , which i s j u s t as good, and j u s t as s p e c i a l . A usten’s
meaning i s th a t i t i s p recisely because her lead characters are not
paragons th a t they are in te re s tin g and wonderful—they are lik e us
in how we are p e cu liarly lovable, and able to love.
In A usten's n o v e ls , t h i s i s p a r t l y a q u e s tio n o f i n t e g r i t y .
Do a l l women want to marry any man with money? Mr. Collins and the
e a r l y Mr. Darcy assume "of c o u rs e ," but Austen c la im s a g r e a t e r
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sc ru p u lo u s n e ss f o r women, and more r e s p e c t f o r o u r s e lv e s . She
lo o k s a t the scorn f o r women in our c u l t u r e , no s m a ll f e a t in
i t s e l f , and in o p p o s itio n to t h a t , d ev elo p s new ways f o r se e in g
women serio u sly , for showing th a t women m atter. But to show th at
we m a t t e r , t h a t we a re human in g ra n d , im p o rta n t ways now
overlooked which are maimed by minim izations as sm all, in fe rio r ,
and s i l l y , i s n o t to r e l e g a t e women to th e s c a le o f " l a r g e r th an
l i f e " heroines. To put th is another way, Austen’s re fu sa l to deify
fig u res of women as id e a ls has p o l i t i c a l im plications. I t means
t h a t the sim p le hum anity o f women must be c e l e b r a t e d , must be
accepted as i t i s for men. For heroines have been used to g r a tif y
the dreams of men ra th e r than of s e lf. This does not mean e ith e r a
m ista k e n b e l i e f in s e l f - d e t e r m i n a t i o n o r a fad o f s e l f i s h n e s s .
A usten's books tra n s fo rm our c e n t r a l a c t i v i t y from p a s s iv e
r e g i s t r a t i o n o f o u ts id e t r u t h s to a c t i v e l y d e c id in g what we see.
I t i s an is s u e o f v is io n . A usten's n o v els o f f e r no b o rin g
un iv ersal agreement on any person's m erit, no worship of masses for
a c u lt-fig u re . The grandeur Austen shows in women is what can only
be seen , f e l t , im ag in ed , one p erso n a t a tim e , over tim e . I t i s a
f a i t h in i n d i v i d u a l d i s c o v e r y w hich p re c lu d e s th e m assive
agreements which have so condemned women. W e a l l need to make up
our own v i s io n s o f what i s good and im p o rta n t, and, tr y i n g to be
aw are o f a l l th e ways th e c u l t u r e im pinges on and a c t u a l l y
p e r m e a t e s o u r p e r c e p t i o n s , s e e beyond to more i n t e r e s t i n g
p o s s i b i l i t i e s . This i s to argue t h a t A usten’s n o v e ls, f a r from
62
c o n s t r i c t i n g t h e i r v i s i o n to "u n ity o f to n e" o r a " s e t t l e d and
remarkably confident way of judging,” o ffe r continual ambiguity and
mystery which challenge the established order in p a r tic u la r ways.
Morgan b e a u t i f u l l y p o in ts o u t t h a t " C h a rlo tte can im agine a
f u tu r e w ith Mr. C o llin s because she cannot im agine a f u tu r e a t
Q |i
a l l . ” 0 ** Charlotte Lucas forces h e rse lf in to a position too small
f o r h e r , th en red u ces h e r s e l f to f i t . She does t h i s not so much
for an income of her own, because married she w ill be personally no
ric h e r than when single. She does i t to avoid the derogatory lab el
"old m aid.” But t h a t , the novel shows, i s where we need our
v ision, our prophesy. Charlotte h e rs e lf and Austen’s readers have
p o in te d to many re a so n s f o r h e r m a rria g e . E l i z a b e th ’s te d io u s
journey to Hunsford p ic tu re s p r e c i s e l y th e boredom C h a r lo tte has
escaped. But h er v i s i t a ls o p i c t u r e s th e boredom i n t o which
C harlotte has fa lle n . William Collins i s no le ss oppressive than
I
h is namesake S i r W illiam Lucas. And he may be more in v a s iv e .
Readers have too often overlooked the c e n tra l sadness of Charlotte
Lucas's f a t e , o b sc u rin g i t by argum ents t h a t C h a r lo tte does the
best she can for h e rse lf.
But i f she could have held on, could have b e lie v e d t h a t tim e
can b r i n g t r a n s f o r m a t i o n s , sh e m ig h t h av e c r e a t e d a more
i n t e r e s t i n g l i f e . For exam ple, we can j u s t l y im agine t h a t
C harlotte would have lived mostly, perhaps to ta lly , a t Pemberley.
Elizabeth stayed six weeks in Kent—how much longer would Charlotte
have v i s i t e d D e rb y sh ire , w ith n o th in g to d r iv e or draw h e r away.
63
Perhaps she would n ev er have become " ro m a n tic ” or le a rn e d to
b e lie v e in "h ap p in ess in m a rria g e ." But o th e r a f f e c t i o n s and
in te r e s ts would have been open to her, o fferin g tru e r comforts than
h e r poor a m b itio n fo r "a c o m fo rta b le home." That i s why the
c r u c i a l meaning o f C h a r l o t t e ’s l o s t chance i s t h a t even i f
Elizabeth had never married, even without the wealth and beauty of
Pemberley, friends so in te re s tin g as Elizabeth and Jane Bennet are
f a r p r e f e r a b l e to e x i l e w i t h Mr. C o l l i n s and t h e l i m i t e d
f a s c i n a t i o n o f r e a r r a n g in g someone e l s e ’s house. The hope which
Austen’s f ic tio n o ffe rs to women is th a t we need not see our liv e s
a c c o rd in g to s e x i s t s te r e o t y p e s . We may n o t be a b le to do
everything we would wish, but we can develop our own thinking, and
perh ap s t h a t o f a few people whose l i v e s we touch. This i s what
Austen's protagonists try to do.
Many r e a d e rs have sought or a t l e a s t d e c la re d m issin g an
ele m e n t o f Romantic prophesy in A usten's works. Yet where th e s e
novels are prophetic is p recisely in how they imagine th a t women
need n o t conform to th e e x i s t i n g r u l e s , t h a t women may e x p lo re
toward an unknown future. Perhaps we may surmise th at the c r i t i c a l
c o n v e n tio n o f l a b e l i n g Austen a s i r o n i c and c y n ic a l d e r iv e s from
how l i t t l e her f ic tio n portrays men as completely admirable, from
i t s rev e la tio n th a t men can be undesirable, too. The im plications
o f th e n o v e ls ' e x t r a o r d i n a r y i n t e r e s t in women may have gone
l a r g e l y u n f e l t because a d m ir a tio n f o r c h a r a c t e r s l i k e C a th e rin e
Morland and Fanny P r ic e i s so f a r out o f tune w ith th e g e n e r a l
64
sexism which demands o f fem ale c h a r a c t e r s a f in is h e d g l o s s , a
c o m p le te n e s s, no t in keeping w ith the piquancy o f d e v e lo p in g
p eople. In A usten's n o v e ls , women's tra n sc e n d e n c e r e s t s on our
power to esteem women in ordinary guises. The visionary q u ality of
t h i s f i c t i o n l i e s in i t s power to r e p r e s e n t women who a re
continually more in te re s tin g than we have been taught to believe
th ey can be. That, s u r e l y , i s a sig n o f hope.
65
Notes
1
Susan Morgan, In the Meantime; Character and Perception in
Jane Austen’s Fiction (Chicago: U niversity of Chicago Press, 1980),
p. 2; Donald Greene, "The Myth o f L i m i t a t i o n ," Jane Austen Today,
ed. J o e l W einsheim er (A thens, Ga., U n iv e r s ity o f G eorgia P re s s ,
1975), pp. 166-72; and S t u a r t M. Tave, Some Words o f Jane Austen
(Chicago: U niversity of Chicago Press, 1973)» p. 83.
0
^David Daiches, "Jane Austen, Karl Marx, and the A risto c ra tic
Dance," The American Scholar 17 (Summer 1948): 289.
^Raymond Williams, The English Novel from Dickens to Lawrence
(London: Hogarth Press, 1984), p. 21.
li
Diana Laurenson, " I n t r o d u c t i o n — C u rren t Research in the
Sociology of L ite ra tu re ," The Sociology of L ite ra tu re : Applied
Studies 26, ed. Diana Laurenson (April 1978): 1.
^Williams, p. 12.
6I b id ., p. 24.
7I b id ., p. 100.
8I b id ., p. 89-90.
^David Monaghan, Jane Austen: S tructure and Social Vision
(London: Macmillan Press, 1980), p. 5.
1 o
J o e l W einsheim er, "Jane A usten’s A n th ro p o c e n trism ," Jane
Austen Today, ed. J o e l W einsheim er (A thens, Ga.: U n iv e r s ity o f
Georgia Press, 1975), pp. 130-31.
11I b id ., p. 138.
^W illiam s, p. 21.
13I b id ., p. 23.
12i
A l i s t a i r Duckworth, The Improvement o f th e E s t a t e : A
Study of Jane Austen’s Novels (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins
P r e s s , 1971), p. 21.
15I b id ., p. 34.
1 fi /
T erry L o v e ll, "Jane Austen and th e G entry: A Study in
L ite ra tu re and Ideology," The Sociology o f L i t e r a t u r e : Applied
Studies 26, ed. Diana Laurenson (April 1978): 16.
66
17I b id ., p. 14.
l8I b id ., p. 32.
19I b id ., p. 33.
20
David Monaghan, " In tr o d u c tio n : Jane Austen as a S o c ia l
N o v e lis t," Jane Austen in a S o c ia l C ontext, ed. David Monaghan
(Totowa, N .J.: Barnes & Noble, 1981), p. 3.
21I b i d . , p. 2.
22I b id ., p. 6.
23 Ann Banfield, "The Influence of Place: Jane Austen and the
Novel of Social Consciousness," Jane Austen in a Social Context,
ed. David Monaghan (Totowa, N .J.: Barnes & Noble, 1981), p. 30.
ph
^ Ellen Moers, L iterary Women (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday &
Company, 1976), p. 77.
25I b id ., p. 157.
Sandra G ilbert and Susan Gubar, The Madwoman in the A ttic:
the Woman W riter and the Nineteenth-Century L iterary Imagination
(New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1979), p. 154.
27Nina Auerbach, "0 Brave New World: Evolution and Revolution
in P ersu asio n ," English L iterary History 39 (1972), p. 128.
pQ
Nina Auerbach, "Jane Austen and Romantic Imprisonment," Jane
Austen in a S o c ia l C ontext, ed. David Monaghan (Totowa, N.J.:
Barnes & Noble, 1981), p. 26.
29Mary Poovey, The Proper Lady and the Woman W riter: Ideology
as Style in the Works of Mary W ollstonecraft, Mary Shelley, and
Jane Austen (Chicago: U niversity of Chicago Press, 1984), p. 181.
30I b id ., p. 180.
31I b i d . , p. 181.
32Karen Newman, "Can This M arriage Be Saved: Jane Austen
Makes Sense of an Ending," English L iterary History 50 (1983): 700.
88Ruth Bernard Y e a z e ll, "The B oundaries o f M an sfield P a r k ,"
Representations 7 (Summer 1984): 138-39.
67
34David Monaghan, "Jane Austen and th e P o s itio n o f Women,"
Jane Austen in a S o c ia l C o n tex t, ed. David Monaghan (Totowa, N.J.:
Barnes & Noble, 1981), p. 109-10.
3^Jane M iller, Women W riting About Men (London: Virago
1986), p. 35.
Press,
3^LeRoy W . Smith, Jane Austen and the Drama of Woman (London:
Macmillan Press, 1983), p. 24-25.
87Moers, p. 215.
3®Gilbert and Gubar, p. 78.
^^Moers, pp. 48-52.
^ G i l b e r t and Gubar, p. 176.
h < |
H ester E i s e n s t e i n , Contemporary Fem inist Thought (Boston:
G. K. Hall & Co., 1983), p. xx.
4 2
I b id ., p. x i i .
^ I b i d . , p. xiv.
44
A lison M. Ja g g a r, F e m in is t P o l i t i c s and Human N ature
(Totowa, N .J.: Rowman & L i t t l e f i e l d , 1983), p. 7-
lie
-'Eisenstein, p. x i i .
46
Carol G illigan, In a D ifferen t Voice: Psychological Theory
and Women's Development (Cambridge: Harvard U n iv e r s ity P re s s ,
1982), p. 25.
47I b id ., p. 70-71.
48I b id ., p. 67.
Jo sep h in e Donovan, F e m in is t Theory: The In te lle c tu a l
Traditions of American Feminism (New York: Frederick Ungar,
p. 61.
1985),
5^1 am indebted for th is perspective to Susan Morgan,
Meantime.
In the
^1E isenstein, p. 145.
52
One a n a l y s is i s t h a t women's o p p re ss io n i s caused by the
d i v i s i o n betw een p u b lic and d o m e stic or p r i v a t e work. See, f o r
68
example, Michele Zim balist Rosaldo, "Woman, Culture, and Society:
A Theoretical Overview," Woman, Culture, and Society, ed. Michele
Z im b a lis t Rosaldo and L o u is e L am phere ( S t a n f o r d : S t a n f o r d
University Press, 197*0, pp. 19-27. But Rosaldo's conclusion th a t
only by a v o id in g "d om estic la b o r" do men " e s t a b l i s h an a u ra o f
a u t h o r i t y and d i s t a n c e , " (p. 39) I t h i n k , o v e r l o o k s th e
sig n ifican ce of her o rig in a l observation th a t the d iv isio n of labor
v aries g re a tly but whatever men did was valued as more im portant,
t h a t men "are th e lo c u s o f c u l t u r a l v a lu e " (p. 20).
^Donovan, p. 82.
^ E is e n s te in , p. 58.
-'-'Sarah Grimke, quoted by Donovan, p. 15.
^ C a r o l Thompson, g u e s t l e c t u r e , Study o f Women and Men in
Society 210, University of Southern C alifo rn ia, Los Angeles, 6 Nov.
1984, and "Man-Made Famine: Women and th e Roots o f Hunger in
A f ric a ," w r i t . Debbie T a y lo r, New I n te r n a tio n a lis t Magazine, nar.
Glenda Jackson, d i r . David Crossman, prod: New I n t e r n a t i o n a l i s t
Publications, Ltd. PBS, KCSM, San Mateo Nov. 1986.
^7Lois Banner, Women in Modern America: A Brief History (New
York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1984, 1974), p. 13.
-^Auerbach, "0 Brave New World," p. 128.
^^See R oberta H am ilton, The L i b e r a tio n o f Women (London:
George Allen, 1978).
fin
Joan Kelly-Gadol, "Did Women Have a Renaissance?," Becoming
V is ib le : Women in European H is to ry , ed. Renate B r id e n th a l and
Claudia Koonz (Boston: Houghton M ifflin , 1977), pp. 137-64, passim.
Rosaldo, p. 17.
fiP
D < :Rosaldo and Lamphere, p. V.
63Tave, p. 137.
^Morgan, pp. 92-97.
65I b id ., p. 74.
^Poovey, p. 201.
67I b id ., p. 197.
69
C Q
°°Mark S c h o re r, " I n t r o d u c t i o n , ” to th e R iv e rsid e e d i t i o n o f
Pride and Prejudice (Boston: Houghton M ifflin , 1956), p. xiv. Many
readers temporize with C harlotte's decision to marry Mr. Collins,
often arguing th a t Austen endorses i t as a r e a l i s t i c a lte r n a tiv e . ^
For Marvin Mud ric k , Jane Austen: Iro n y as Defense and D iscovery
(Princeton: Princeton U niversity Press, 1952), p. 109, C harlotte's
choice "is a question not merely of individuals and marriage, but
o f i n d i v i d u a l s and m a rria g e in an a c q u isitiv e society." Yasmine
G ooneratne, Jane Austen (Cambridge: Cambridge U n iv e r s ity P re s s ,
1970), p. 91, argues th a t Charlotte "has done the prudent, sensible
th in g in p ro v id in g f o r h e r own f u t u r e , and a lth o u g h E liz a b e th i s
shocked and r e v o lte d . . . , th e r e is no doubt t h a t C h a r l o t t e 's
d e c is io n has th e a p p ro b a tio n o f h er own fa m ily and o f s o c ie ty in
g e n e r a l . " Lloyd W. Brow n, "The B u s i n e s s o f M a rr y in g and
Mothering," Jane Austen's Achievement, ed. J u li e t McMaster (London:
Macmillan, 1976), p. 33, comments th a t
"notwithstanding Elizabeth Bennet's j u s t i f i e d indignation
a t Charlotte Lucas' frank opportunism, the socio-economic
r e a l i t i e s which a r e so c l e a r c u t . . . r e q u i r e from us a
more complex r e a c t i o n to C h a r l o t t e 's a c c e p ta n c e . . . .
f o r in th e l i g h t o f th o se so cio -eco n o m ic r e a l i t i e s
C h a r l o t t e 's sen se o f ch o ice has been s e v e r e ly l i m i t e d
fro m t h e s t a r t . Her m a r r i a g e i s n o t s i m p l y an
i n t e l l e c t u a l and m oral la p s e . I t i s a ls o a p a t h e t i c
r e f l e c t i o n o f h e r s i t u a t i o n and th e s i t u a t i o n o f young
women lik e herself."
Brown argues th a t "for women lik e C harlotte i t [marriage] is also a
b u s in e s s o f s o r t s ." M ichael W illia m s , Jane Austen: Six Novels
and Their Methods (London: Macmillan Press, 1986), p. 55, adds th at
"We m ight f e e l s a f e in d is m is s in g h e r [ C h a r l o t t e ] as a m erely
h e a r t l e s s m a t e r i a l i s t ; bu t . . . she can be se e n , n o t so much as a
m a t e r i a l i s t , bu t r a t h e r a s th e c l e a r spokesman f o r th e c r a s s
m aterialism in her society." J u lie t McMaster, "Love and Marriage,"
The Jane Austen Companion, ed. J. David Grey (New York: Macmillan
P r e s s , 1986), p. 291, announces t h a t " I f love f o r Jane Austen i s a
sine qua non in m arriage, so i s money." For McMaster, C harlotte's
m a rria g e i s l o g i c a l : " C h a rlo tte Lucas i s one o f a la r g e fa m ily .
I f she does n o t m arry, she can look fo rw ard only to a l i f e o f
dependence as th e s p i n s t e r a u n t in th e home o f h e r b ro th e r."
McMaster concludes th a t, "The advice of Tennyson's Northern Farmer
,'Doant thou marry fo r munny, but goa wheer munny i s ' seems larg ely
to p e r t a i n in th e n o v e ls. The incom es o f lo v e r s a re alw ays
relev an t along with the s ta te of th e ir affectio n s."
Many r e a d e r s show t h e i r a p p ro v a l o f C h a r l o t t e 's m a rria g e by
condemning Elizabeth's d isillu sio n e d reactio n to i t . Tony Tanner,
70
" I n tr o d u c tio n ," P rid e and P r e ju d ic e (New York: Greenwich House,
1982), p. 37-38, argues th a t
" E liz a b e th 's spontaneous r e a c t i o n when to ld of t h e i r
coming marriage i s — 'impossible*, but her remark is not
only indecorous, i t is excessive. In such a society, the
need f o r an 'e s t a b l i s h m e n t ' i s a very r e a l one, and in
p utting prudence before passion, C harlotte is only doing
what the economic r e a l i t i e s of her society a l l but force
h er to do."
For Marvin Mudrick, "Elizabeth's continual mistake is to ignore, or
to s e t a s id e a s u n i n f l u e n t i a l , th e s o c i a l c o n te x t" (p. 109).
Mudrick proclaims th a t:
" I t i s n o t t h a t E l i z a b e t h m i s j u d g e s C h a r l o t t e ' s
c a p a b ilitie s , but th a t she underestim ates the strength of
th e p r e s s u r e s a c t i n g upon h e r. C h a r lo tte i s tw e n ty -
seven, unmarried, not p re tty , not w ell-to -d o , liv in g in a
society which tr e a ts a penniless old maid le ss as a joke
th an as an e x a s p e r a tin g burden upon h er fa m ily . But
Elizabeth is inexperienced enough, a t the beginning, to
judge in te rm s o f p e r s o n a l i t y only. She re c o g n iz e s Mr.
C o l l i n s ' t o t a l f o o lis h n e s s and C harlotte's in te llig e n c e ,
and would n ev er have dreamed t h a t any p r e s s u re could
overcome so n a t u r a l an o p p o s itio n . . . e x c e p t t h a t in
m a rria g e s made by econom ics th ey o f te n u n i t e , however
obvious th e m ism atching. . . . So th e n a t u r a l a n t i t h e s i s
which s e p a r a t e s sim p le from com plex, and which should
s e p a r a te one from th e o th e r a b s o lu t e l y in th e c l o s e s t
human re la tio n s h ip , can be upset and annulled by economic
pressure" (p. 108-09).
Michael Williams, p. 58, says of E liz a b e th 's disapproval:
"But i s t h i s q u ite f a i r ? In se e k in g a b a la n c e betw een
friendship and p rin c ip le , Elizabeth blinds h e rs e lf to the
difference in age, beauty and wealth between her friend
and h e rse lf th a t make i t much le ss easy for Charlotte to
do anything but accept Mr. C o llin s."
J u d i t h Low der Newton, Women, Power, and S u b v ersio n : S o c ia l
S tra te g ie s in B ritish Fiction, 1778-1860 (A thens, Ga.: U n iv e r s ity
o f G eorgia P r e s s , 1981), rem arks t h a t : " I f we see C h a r lo tte w ith
irony, we see Elizabeth with irony too, and u ltim a te ly the n a rra to r
abandons us to am b iv alen ce" (p. 72). Newton confounds Austen and
her protagonist:
71
"One m ajor q u a l i f i c a t i o n o f E l i z a b e t h ’s r e s i s t a n c e to
male c o n t r o l , . . . i s t h a t , l i k e A usten, she a c c e p ts the
b a s ic d i v i s i o n in men's and women's economic l o t s . Men
have a rig h t to money th a t women do not. Thus Wickham is
p r u d e n t f o r p u r s u i n g Mary K ing, b u t C h a r l o t t e i s
mercenary fo r marrying C ollins" (p. 76-77).
S e v e ra l c r i t i c s q u o te E l i z a b e t h ' s t e m p o r a r i l y c y n i c a l
confusion between the mercenary and the prudent motive as p art of
the moral of Pride and Prejudice. Tony Tanner, p. 38, comments:
"As Elizabeth asks 'what is the d ifferen ce in matrimonial
a f f a i r s , betw een th e m ercenary m otive [ s i c ] and th e
p ru d e n t m o tiv e ? '. . . . And one o f the th in g s th e book
s e t s o u t to do i s to d e f in e a r a t i o n a l l y based 'mode o f
attachm ent'—something between the exclusively sexual and
the e n tire ly mercenary."
J u li e t McMaster, p. 291, argues th a t
"The is s u e o f th e d e l i c a t e b a la n c e between love and
worldly wisdom is explored in some d e ta il in th is novel
in p a r t i c u l a r in th e c o n te x t o f Mrs. B ennet's d e s p e ra te
m issio n to g e t h er f iv e d a u g h te rs m a rrie d and o f f h er
hands. E liz a b e th a s k s , 'what i s th e d i f f e r e n c e in
m a trim o n ia l a f f a i r s , betw een the m ercenary and the
prudent motive? Where does d isc re tio n end, and avarice
begin?' (p. 153) And though we are convinced th a t by the
tim e she a c c e p ts Darcy she does love him, she h e r s e l f
jokingly suggests th a t her love began when she f i r s t saw
'h is b e a u tifu l grounds a t Pemberley."'
Karen Newman proclaims th a t
"Austen voices through Elizabeth h e rs e lf the fundamental
c o n t r a d i c t i o n o f th e no v el: 'What i s th e d i f f e r e n c e in
m a trim o n ia l a f f a i r s betw een th e m a trim o n ia l and the
p ru d e n t m otive? Where does d i s c r e t i o n end and a v a r ic e
b e g in ? ' (188) No one, p a r t i c u l a r l y no woman who is
e c o n o m ic a lly d ep en d en t, n o t even E liz a b e th , whom we
admire, is unmoved by property" (p. 698).
Newman also connects E lizabeth’s love for Mr. Darcy to h is owning
Pemberley:
"As S ir Walter Scott long ago noticed, Elizabeth's change
of h eart toward Darcy happens a t Pemberley in response to
his property . . . fo r a close examination of E lizabeth’s
r e l a t i o n to p r o p e rty r e v e a l s a d e l i b e r a t e i n t e n t i o n on
72
A usten's p a r t to show us . . . [ E l i z a b e t h ’s ] grow ing
recognition of her ’i n t e r e s t '" (p. 698).
Newman adds th a t Elizabeth's joke about learning to love Mr. Darcy
a t Pemberley shows th a t "Austen's point is c le a r enough—no one is
immune" from the tem ptations property o ffe rs (p. 709).
S t i l l o th e r r e a d e r s argue t h a t A usten's n o v e ls p o r tr a y the
i n s t i t u t i o n o f m a rria g e as so flaw ed t h a t i t does n o t m a tte r i f
Charlotte makes a bad one. This could be described as Charlotte's
own perspective. Robert B. Heilman: "E Pluribus Unum: Parts and
Whole in Pride and P rejudice," Jane Austen Bicentennary Essays, ed.
John Halperin (New York: Cambridge U niversity Press, 1975), p. 134,
announces th a t
"The C harlotte-C ollins marriage is pure conveniencej for
each party, b e tte r th i s than nothing. The novel says, in
e f fe c t, th a t these d iffe re n t kinds of marriage a l l occur,
a l l a re i n e v i t a b l e , and a l l a re more or l e s s w o rkable:
t h i s is th e comic a c c e p ta n c e o f th e w orld. . . . No
c h a r a c t e r and no n a r r a t i v e t h r u s t r e a l l y makes a case
against C h a rlo tte 's marrying C o llin s."
C h a r lo tte Lucas and Mr. C o llin s make "the planned p r u d e n t ia l
marriage." McMaster, p. 291, says of C harlotte's a ttitu d e toward
the marriage, " It i s a grim p ic tu re , but perhaps s t a t i s t i c a l l y not
a w ild ly i n a c c u r a te one, f o r such m arried c o u p le s as th e A lle n s,
M id d le to n s, B ennets, P r ic e s , and Musgroves h a rd ly su g g e st t h a t
p e r f e c t d o m estic f e l i c i t y i s th e r u le ." Lloyd W . Brown, p. 35,
re m a rk s, "In f a c t a l l th e m a rria g e s t h a t a re d e a l t w ith in any
s i g n i f i c a n t d e t a i l . . . a re in a d e q u a te ." Terry L o v e ll, p. 32-33,
adds t h a t "the a lm o s t u n ifo rm ly la u g h a b le e s t a b l i s h e d m a rria g e s
with which the novels are l i t t e r e d suggests th a t i t [marriage] must
f a i l frequently—then a s to ic a l acceptance i s prescribed—to make
th e b e s t of poor c irc u m s ta n c e s . . ."
^ G i l b e r t and Gubar, p. 126.
"^Newman, p. 703*
71I b id ., p. 709n.
72Newton, p . 71.
7^Schorer, p. x iv -x v .
7^Newton, p. 74.
"^Mudrick, p. 109.
73
^^Gooneratne, p. 92.
77McMaster, p. 291.
78Tanner, p. 37.
7^ D a rre l M an sell, The Novels of Jane Austen: an In te rp re ta
tio n (Londons Macmillan Press, 1973), p. 85.
8^Lloyd W . Brown, p. 36.
82R eginald F a r r e r , "T ruth, R e a lity , and Good Sense in Jane
Austen," Norton C r itic a l Edition of Pride and Prejudice, ed. Donald
J. Gray (New York: W . W . Norton, 1966), p. 3^5.
83D. W . H arding, "C h a ra c te r and C a r ia c a tu r e in Jane A usten,"
C r i t i c a l Essays on Jane A usten, ed. B. C. Southam (London:
R outledge & Kegan P au l, 1968), p. 99.
84
Morgan, p . 95.
74
Part I
Exploring through Form
75
Chapter 1
Reimagining Love
In r e a l love you want th e o th e r p e rs o n 's good. In ro m a n tic love
you want the other person.
—Margaret C. Anderson
A usten's n o v els a l l c e l e b r a t e love s t o r i e s — a t o p i c , o f te n
assumed to be i n s i g n i f i c a n t . Yet what lo v e , l i k e a n y th in g e l s e ,
can mean v arie s with how i t is depicted. The f i r s t wave of recent
fem in ist theory condemned the tra d itio n a l in s titu tio n s of love and
m a rria g e in our c u l t u r e , a rg u in g t h a t th ey c o n t r ib u t e to women's
o p p r e s s i o n by r e i n f o r c i n g wom en's h a b i t s o f p a s s i v i t y and
nurturance, dooming women to v ic tim iz a tio n in what were seen as the
lim ited ro les of wife and m otherJ This perspective may have led
many r e a d e r s t o r e j e c t A u s te n 's p l o t s a s r e a c t i o n a r y and
c o n f o r m is t, b o l s t e r i n g th e i n s t i t u t i o n s o f ro m a n tic love and
m a rria g e by which women hav e h i s t o r i c a l l y b een h arm ed i n
p a t r i a r c h a l c u l t u r e . O thers see A usten's d e p ic tio n of h e r
c u ltu re 's conventions of lo v e as s im u lta n e o u s ly c o n s e rv a tiv e and
76
d e v io u sly s u b v e rs iv e or p a r o d i e d But in both c a s e s Austen i s
presented as backward, antiquated, an exponent of a less-developed
p o l i t i c s of a by-gone era. However, these conclusions overlook the
ways A usten’s work o penly, n o t j u s t s u r r e p t i t i o u s l y , c r i t i c i z e s
generally-accepted standards and customs—p a r tic u la rly in terms of
t h e i r e f f e c t s on women. I want to su g g e st t h a t th e p r o g re s s iv e
analysis in Austen's novels of the d i f f i c u t i e s women face has been
o f te n ignored because th e s e n o v e ls do even more than p r e s e n t
women's problem s. They a l s o e x p lo re p o s s ib le s o l u t i o n s , or
recoveries, or new beginnings for reform.
However v iv id ly Austen's novels celebrate the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of
a f f e c t i o n among h e r p r o t a g o n i s t s and th e ir beloveds, these books
also point out the dangers of the in h erited conventions of love—
esp e c ia lly to women. Austen's novels perform an e s s e n tia l action,
which in the 1970's we called "consciousness ra isin g .” These books
show th a t many customs which characters and readers may accept as
"normal" or "natural" a c tu a lly harm women. S p e c ific a lly , Austen's
f ic tio n demonstrates th a t tr a d itio n a l heterosexual love re la tio n s
a c tu a lly contain l i t t l e love, but instead mesh power and fear. The
tw en tieth-century psychoanalytic term for th is is "sadomasochism,"
a term fem in ists have appropriated to describe what is wrong with
p a tria rc h a l tra d itio n s of love. When Austen's novels, too, portray
custom ary form s of love as d e s t r u c t i v e , i t i s p r e c i s e l y a
leg itim ated r e la tio n of sadism and masochism which they c r i ti c i z e .
One of the symptoms of the c r i t i c a l underestim ation of Austen's a r t
77
is how often readers p refer her ev il-d o e rs to her protagonists and
t h e i r b e lo v e d s, c a s t i g a t i n g what th ey see as A usten's i n f e r i o r
sympathies—most notably in the instance of opposition between the
/
Crawfords and Fanny Price in Mansfield Park. In te rp re tin g Austen's
n o v e ls in a fram e p rovided by f e m in i s t i n s i g h t s ab o u t both th e
dangers of in h erited s tru c tu re s for love and the p o s s i b i l i t ie s for
i t s re fo rm , can o f f e r a th e o ry f o r why th e books r e j e c t and why
th ey su p p o rt what th ey do. I hope to show t h a t the n o v e ls '
p r i o r i t i e s are not conservative, but challenge the s ta tu s quo along
fem in ist lin e s.
In h e r n o v e ls , Austen p o in ts out how what we th in k o f as
"normal,'' th a t is , p a tria rc h a l, heterosexual re la tio n s , are b u i l t
on male aggression against women, and on d e fin itio n s of sexuality
a s more l i k e ra p e , o r being ra p e d , th a n te n d e r concern f o r and
p a s s io n a te a f f e c t i o n f o r th e person one lo v e s b e s t in the w orld.
The c o ro lla ry of rape i s seduction, th a t a ttitu d e th a t when sex is
n o t fo rc e d on a woman i t i s tr ic k e d from h e r. Amorous r e l a t i o n s
become a man's e n t e r t a i n m e n t, conducted on a "Man’s f i e l d . "
Austen’s f ic tio n acts to take the fear out of love, te llin g us th a t
we should n ev er f a l l in love w ith someone we a re a f r a i d o f. But
lo v e in a p a t r i a r c h y , w ith i t s i n s t i t u t i o n a l i z e d rape and
s e d u c tio n , has f e a r as i t s v ery b a s is . Lovers never know each
o th e r v ery w e ll; in s t e a d th ey "w orship" each o th e r . Austen does
n o t d e p i c t rap e as e r o t i c , se d u c tio n te m p tin g , or w orship
congenial, and her novels o ffe r us a b e tte r form of sexual passion,
78
where love and p h y s ic a l a t t r a c t i o n grow from p eople becoming
in tim a te ly known. Instead of a worship of someone’s "looks,” the
s o rt of connection Henry Crawford has to Fanny Price, or Marianne
Dashwood has to John Willoughby, H arriet Smith to George Knightley,
Louisa Musgrove to Frederick Wentworth, and presumably the young
Mr. Bennet to Miss G a rd in e r, Austen shows us love as som ething
b e t t e r , as f e e l i n g s which go beyond c o n v e n tio n a l p o s tu r e s and
p a t r i a r c h a l form s. Austen le a d s us away from v iew in g love as a
memorized s e t o f g e s t u r e s , e a s i l y re c o g n iz a b le because i t f a l l s
i n t o a p r e d i c t a b l e fo rm u la. She wins us over to im a g in in g , and
h o ld in g out f o r , a love which has a r e c i p r o c i t y o f m utual
cooperation and knowledge and communication—which is more personal
than what the p atriarchy tra in s us to expect.
In Austen's novels, characters most often r e a liz e or express
t h e i r love f o r a p a r t i c u l a r person b ecau se, l i k e Mr. Darcy w ith
E liz a b e th Bennet, o r Emma Woodhouse w ith George K n ig h tle y , they
cannot bear to think th a t anything bad might happen to her or him.
But th e s e books re c o g n iz e t h a t p a t r i a r c h a l psychology enforces a
code where men come to r e l a t i o n s w ith women and m a rria g e as
p redators and conquerers; where women are expected to find th e ir
s a tis f a c tio n in being taken over, taken away, and as Mary Crawford
says, "taken in." Today, fem in ist psychologists teach us how th is
d u a lism works. But Austen had drawn us p i c t u r e s o f i t long ago.
In th is cu ltu re , love is v io le n t and dangerous, while friendship is
b o rin g and s a f e . For women, s e x u a l i t y becomes t h r e a t e n i n g and
79
v io la tin g , while camaraderie with men is lim ited to those who are
’•just frien d s.” In Mansfield Park, Henry and Mary Crawford show us
old, harmful, s e lf-d e s tru c tiv e ways of forming attachm ents. Fanny
P ric e and Edmund Bertram r e p r e s e n t much f r i e n d l i e r ways, s e x i e r
ways, of loving and of growing close to whomever one loves. Austen
o f f e r s us a f e m in i s t r e c a s t i n g o f r e l a t i o n s betw een th e g e n d e rs,
and more, of love i t s e l f .
For Austen's novels to dislodge our allegience to p a tria rc h a l
/
fo rm s, th e y must change how we th in k . Since we a re bro u g h t up to
th in k a c c o rd in g to the c u l t u r e 's d e f i n i t i o n s , a c c o rd in g to i t s
oppositions, then those are what must be overturned in order for us
to change. Any culture reproduces i t s power through how i t defines
the difference between or the r e la tio n between v irtu e and e v il, the
d e s i r a b l e and th e sco rn e d , what i s good and what i s dang ero u s,
showing how th e old o p p o s itio n s damage women's l i v e s . For us to
/
s to p s u p p o rtin g anti-w om an s t r u c t u r e s , we need to change our
thinking. That i s what Austen's novels help us do. They show how
th e p o p u la r ways o f p e r c e iv in g , which I am c a l l i n g th e dom inant
o p p o s it i o n s , w i l l n o t acco u n t f o r th e form s our l i v e s ta k e , and
w i l l no t h elp us make d e c is io n s . They show t h a t th e sta n d a rd
d u a lism s ab o u t our l i v e s a re n o t only u n i n t e r e s t i n g , bu t a re
deceptive. Austen’s books take us away from tr a d itio n a l modes of
judging and tr a d itio n a l categories. Her f ic tio n invents new images
which can lead us to new a sp ira tio n s for our liv es.
80
Readers, however, have been larg ely blind to th i s process in
A usten's n o v e ls. Most r e a d e r s have not seen th e in n o v a tio n s of
A u s te n ’s n o v e l s b e c a u s e t h e y have s e c o n d - g u e s s e d A u s te n 's
oppositions, often supporting the things or characters Austen wants
us to see beyond. Because c r i t i c s have looked f o r tr u is m s or
reactio n ary ru le s, they have missed the re v o lt she a c tu a lly invents
from p a tria rc h a l thinking. I w ill discuss how Austen overturns and
forages beyond the dominant oppositions about passion in a l l six of
her completed novels through a standard provided by her exploration
of love in Mansfield Park. I approach the question th is way, not
because I think Mansfield Park a b e tte r novel or in any way more
rep resen tativ e of Austen's views than any of the other five. I do
f e e l t h a t i t i s th e r e t h a t r e a d e r s have been most o b l iv io u s to
Austen's innovative vision about love, most deaf to the reasons she
supports what she does, most mistaken in where t h e i r own sympathies
d ire c t them to disagree with Austen's.
« » • * *
One o f th e most f a s c i n a t i n g i n s t a n c e s o f t h i s m isre a d in g o f
A usten's books c o n cern s th e t h e a t r i c a l s in M a n sfie ld Park. Tave
has shown t h a t th ey a re wrong f o r th e s e c h a r a c t e r s a t t h i s tim e ,
y e t many r e a d e r s c o n tin u e to see A usten's d is a p p r o v a l o f them as
m o ra listic and conservative.^ Yeazell sees "the drive to condemn
the th e a tr ic a ls " as re fle c tin g "the fundamental sense of ta i n t and
p o l l u t i o n t h a t seems to u n d e r lie so many o f th e n o v e l's m oral
81
judgm ents."^ Jan S. Fergus a rg u es t h a t "to a c t i n 'L o v ers’ Vows*
is to divorce sex u ality from so c ia l l i f e , from the p rotection and
r e s t r a i n t s th a t so c ia l conventions o rd in a rily supply."** W e can see
the in ju s tic e of these analyses by considering how readers would
have r e a c te d i f Austen had done what th ey contend th ey want. I f
Austen had defended the Bertrams' playacting, she would have been
derided for c lass complacency. Readers would have accused her of
condoning the id le pleasures of the e x p lo ita tiv e ly rich. I t would
have amounted to one more argum ent f o r p a i n t i n g Austen as a
n o v e list of manners who w rite s of nothing im portant, but instead
r e v e l s in th e s l o t h f u l am usements o f f ro lic k s o m e , b l i t h e l y
ignorant, waste-wealth oppressors.
Yet A usten's o b je c tio n to the t h e a t r i c a l s i s one t h a t should
win the approval of a t le a s t her fem in ist and so cio lo g ical c r i t i c s .
She shows t h a t th e t h e a t r i c a l s are wrong because th ey w aste the
time and money of those who neglect more im portant work and duties
for the sake of th e ir own self-indulgence. Austen disapproves of
th e p la y a c tin g f o r th e same re a so n t h a t o n lo o k e rs r e c e n t l y
c r itic iz e d the im ita tio n "We Are the World" videotape made by the
Marcos f a m ily ; i t was used by th e id l y w e a lth y to g r a t i f y
themselves in w asteful ways. As Austen presents i t , the very idea
of acting Lovers' Vows comes from the a r i s t o c r a t i c r i f f r a f f , "the
Honourable John Yates," who "had not much to recommend him beyond
h ab its of fashion and expense, and being the younger son of a lord
w ith a t o l e r a b l e independence." (MP 121) He has come from "a
82
th e a tr ic a l p a rty ,” which c a rrie s the dubious d is tin c tio n of being
”a large party assembled for g a ie ty ” a t "the seat of the Right Hon.
Lord Ravenshaw,” a p a r ty which in c lu d e s a duke, even, who p la y s
Frederick. Clearly Austen is showing us th a t such entertainm ent is
seized by the most p rivileged and id le in the cu ltu re . Their goals
a re unw orthy: "H appiness," "fame," and "the long p arag rap h in
p r a i s e o f t h e p r i v a t e t h e a t r i c a l s . . . w h ic h w ould have
im m o rta liz e d the whole p a r ty f o r a t l e a s t a tw elvem onth!" The
nonsensical c o n trad ictio n betw een " im m o rta liz e d " and " a t l e a s t a
twelvemonth" show how t r i v i a l such v a n itie s are; the harm they do
in tempting people to neglect im portant t i e s for harmful ones can
be seen in Mr. Yates* c o m p la in t t h a t "the poor old dowager could
not have died a t a worse time." (122)
W e need also to see the sexism of Mr. Yates’s phrase "poor old
dow ager," and h i s b e l i e f t h a t "being only a g ran d m o th e r, and a l l
happening two hundred m ile s o f f ," " i t i s im p o s s ib le to help
w ish in g , t h a t th e news could have been su p p re sse d f o r j u s t the
th re e days we wanted." W e a re asked to s u rm ise t h a t Mr. Y ates
asked Lord Ravenshaw to ignore the news of h is grandmother’s death
in o rd e r to p r e s e r v e the p e rfo rm an ce, f o r he s a y s, "I th in k t h e r e
would have been no g r e a t harm, and i t was su g g e ste d , I know; but
Lord Ravenshaw, who I suppose i s one o f the most c o r r e c t men in
England, would not hear of it." In Mr. Yates’s callow phrase "only
a g ran d m o th e r," t h e r e i s a la c k o f r e s p e c t f o r women in g e n e r a l,
but also for fam ily tie s . The licen se of d e scrip tio n which allows
83
Mr. Yates to portray Lord Ravenshaw as "one of the most c o rre c t men
in England" m erely because he c a n c e ls a t h e a t r i c a l p a r ty out o f
deference to h is grandmother's death shows the flim sy standards and
i r r e s p o n s i b i l i t y o f h is p e r s p e c t i v e . We know t h a t i f h is f r ie n d
Lord Ravenshaw had r e a lly been c o rre c t, he would not be so wasting
his time.
Henry Crawford is ju s t as unfeeling and shallow as John Yates
when he la m e n ts to Fanny P r ic e th e u n se a so n a b le r e t u r n o f S ir
Thomas Bertram which put an end to th e ir version of Lovers' Vows,
W e were unlucky, Miss Price, . . . we were c e rta in ly very
unlucky. Another week, on ly a n o th e r week, would have
been enough for us. I think i f we had had the government
o f the winds fo r a week or two about the equinox, th e r e
would have been a d i f f e r e n c e . Not t h a t we would have
endangered his safety by any tremendous weather—but only
by a s te a d y c o n tr a r y w ind, o r a calm . I t h in k , Miss
P r ic e , we would have in d u lg ed o u r s e lv e s w ith a week's
calm in the A tlantic a t th a t season. (225)
Mr. C raw ford's s e l f i s h n e s s i s a p p a re n t in the p r id e he ta k e s in a
generosity th a t would not have endangered S ir Thomas’ safety , but
would have kept him longer on a t i r i n g and dangerous journey. The
Bertrams and the Crawfords a l l have useful work to do which they
n e g le c t in o rd e r to in d u lg e th e m se lv e s . I f Austen had applauded
them, she would ap propriately have been condemned. But because she
p o in ts out how wrong such w aste i s , she i s roundly abused fo r
p u r i t a n i c a l c o n s e rv a tis m , f o r u n g ra c io u s ly r e s t r i c t i n g young
p e o p le 's "harmless fun."
Austen shows us th e w a s te f u ln e s s o f the p la y a c tin g ; Tom
B e rtra m 's f i r s t s c o r n f u l e s t i m a t e o f how much i t would c o s t i s
84
s a r c a s t i c , "Yes, th e expense o f such an u n d e rta k in g would be
prodigious! Perhaps i t might cost a whole twenty pounds." (127)
He im plies th a t Edmund i s a s k in f lin t to quibble about so small an
amount. But Austen h e r s e l f would n o t be l i k e l y to see i t as a
t r i f l i n g sum; £20 was the t o t a l of Austen's own yearly income. In
any case, in addition to "the enormous r o l l of green baise" for the
stage cu rta in , the h irin g of a carpenter who "made an enlargement
of plan and expense fu lly evident," (130) "a scene p ain te r arrived
from town . . . much to th e in c r e a s e o f the expenses." (164) In a
novel which devotes many of i t s pages to co n trastin g wealth with
p o v e rty , independence w ith dependence, and o p p o r tu n ity w ith i t s
la c k , we a re h e re asked to r e f l e c t t h a t th e r e a re b e t t e r ways fo r
th is money to be spent.
Henry Crawford's neglect of h is r e s p o n s ib ilitie s a t Everingham
i s e x p l i c i t l y a t is s u e in M an sfield Park, as a r e Tom B ertram 's
i r r e s p o n s i b i l i t y and h a b i t s o f expense. To pay Tom's d e b ts , S ir
Thomas i s fo rc e d to s e l l th e M an sfield l i v i n g , which o th e rw is e
would have been h e ld f o r Edmund, to Dr. G rant. U nlike Henry, Tom
outgrow s "the th o u g h tle s s n e s s and s e l f i s h n e s s o f h i s p re v io u s
h a b i t s " ; he " l e a r n t to th in k " and "became what he ought to be,
u s e f u l to h i s f a t h e r , . . . n o t m erely l i v i n g f o r h im s e lf ." (462)
For Austen, t h i s i s th e problem w ith both Henry Crawford and the
t h e a t r i c a l s . Mr. Crawford i s t h o u g h t l e s s , s e l f i s h , h a b i t u a l l y
c a r e l e s s , l i v i n g only f o r h i m s e l f in s te a d o f being u s e f u l a t
Everingham. He ig n o re s h i s work th e r e u n t i l he d is c o v e rs t h a t
85
doing h i s duty w i l l b rin g Fanny P r i c e ’s r e s p e c t . When he b rags
about what he has acco m p lish ed a t h is e s t a t e , Fanny i s touched,
" h e re , he had been a c tin g as he ought to do. To be th e f r i e n d o f
th e poor and the o ppressed! Nothing could be more g r a t e f u l to
h e r." (404) Henry Crawford has exchanged a c tin g in p la y s f o r
" a c tin g as he ought to do." A usten’s n o v e ls do not defend the
p atriarch y , but they do condemn the w asteful hab its of the wealthy.
Readers have been more d is c e r n in g in se e in g t h i s t r u t h about
Austen's po rtray al of Fanny Dashwood in Sense and S e n s ib ility than
in her p ictu re of ric h males lik e Henry Crawford. Mansfield Park
c o n tra sts the good which S ir Thomas Bertram accomplishes by being
gen ero u s w ith h is money, w ith a l l th e harm caused by Henry
C raw ford's s e lf - i n d u lg e n c e , and th e good of th e P r ic e s " a l l
a s s i s t i n g to advance each o th e r ," w ith th e c a v a l i e r n e s s o f Mr.
C raw ford's a t t i t u d e to h is s i s t e r s . He does what th ey l i k e i f i t
does not in te rfe re with his self-indulgence.
B etter than Henry Crawford's pride in h is own " b irth rig h t and
h a b i t " w h ic h e n a b l e him to be so s e l f i s h , a r e th e P r i c e s '
"advantages of early hardship and d is c ip lin e , and the consciousness
o f being born to s tr u g g l e and endure." (473) I t i s tim e to sto p
defining as freedom the w asteful self-indulgence of the ric h , or as
p u rita n ic a l the b e lie f th a t such self-indulgence is unworthy in a
w orld w ith so much p ain and p o v e r ty — s u f f e r i n g s , in d e e d , o f te n
caused by the rich.
86
C r i t i c s have o f te n arg u ed , how ever, t h a t because o f t h e i r
emphasis on an "individual's o b ligations to recognize the needs of
others and to s tr iv e to meet these needs,"' Austen's works r e f le c t
a commitment to "the e x istin g order of things." Monaghan portrays
Austen as a c o n s e rv a tiv e because he c o n clu d es t h a t h er n o v els
p i c t u r e how "the f a te o f s o c ie ty depends on th e a b i l i t y o f the
8
landed c l a s s e s to l i v e up to t h e i r i d e a l o f concern f o r o th e rs ."
Douglas Bush lo cates a "corrective conservatism"^ "in Jane Austen's
t r e a t m e n t o f th e t h e a t r i c a l s . . . . The i s s u e i s betw een a stro n g
sen se o f du ty and r i g h t on one s id e and u n d u t i f u l , i r r e s p o n s i b l e
s e l f - g r a t i f i c a t i o n on th e o t h e r ." 10 P u ttin g a s id e th e is s u e o f
whether we want to measure Austen's novels on a scale of how they
portray the ru lin g c la ss maintaining or losing i t s dominance, we
need to ask whether these d e fin itio n s of conservatism are adequate.
I
Do we r e a l l y want to a c c e p t a s " c o n s e rv a tiv e " an i d e a l o f concern
f o r o t h e r s ' needs? Is a contem pt f o r s e l f - g r a t i f i c a t i o n r e a l l y
lim ite d to re a c tio n a rie s? Do we not today claim such sentim ent for
p r o g r e s s iv e s ? I f we judge M an sfield Park by to d a y 's evolved
p o l i t i c a l s ta n d a r d s , th en I th in k we must see i t s p r o g re s s iv e
s y m p a th ie s. The n a r r a t o r 's r e f u s a l to su p p o rt the M an sfield
th e a tr ic a ls is one of the means by which the novel demonstrates the
i n v a l i d i t y o f the dom inant o p p o s itio n s ; we need to see t h a t her
po sitio n i s not conservative, but in the p o l i t i c s of today, must be
admired as so c ia lly ^aware and concerned.
87
The second and more s p e c ific problem with the th e a tr ic a ls is
t h a t th ey a re used by the young people in the same way t h a t
I s a b e l l a Thorpe used th e t r i p to C l i f t o n : to f l i r t , and to g e t on
w ith the game of making lo v e. This i s how th e B ertram s and
C raw fords a ls o use th e h o rseb ack r i d e s from which Fanny i s
ex clu d ed , as w e ll as the e x c u rsio n to S o th e rto n . I t i s a way f o r
the young women to be with the young men, hoping th a t by indulging
in a f l i r t a t i o n the young men w ill be brought to propose. I t is a
s o r t o f e n t e r p r i s e where p eo p le do th in g s t o g e t h e r w ith a
calculated aim, ra th e r than get to know each other d isin te re ste d ly .
I t i s the difference between Jane Bennet’s innocent in t e r e s t in Mr.
B ingley, and C h a r lo tte Lucas’s recom m endation t h a t "Jane should
. . . make the most of every h a lf hour in which she can command h is
a tten tio n ." (PP 22) In th is system which mistakes opportunism for
love, decisions on marriage are su rp rise s posed by the man ra th e r
than undertakings women and men mutually make. The th e a tr ic a ls ,
esp e c ia lly Lovers’ Vows, allow s even g re a te r licen se: declaratio n s
of love, and, fo r Maria and Henry, many embraces, holding of hands.
Because M aria and J u l i a have wanted to f l i r t w ith Henry on any
terms, they allow him to e n te rta in him self with playacting which,
"in a l l th e r i o t o f h i s g r a t i f i c a t i o n s . . . was y e t an u n ta s te d
p le a s u r e ," (123) to h is " sa te d mind." (115) This i s the s o r t of
m e n t a l i t y which i s no t i n t e r e s t e d in p le a s u r e s l i k e Fanny's
openness to nature or pleasure in good reading. The difference is
88
betw een th e en joym ents o f an e n q u irin g mind and th e v o ra c io u s
indulgences of a sated one.
The M a n sfie ld p la y a c tin g i s no t A usten's r e p r e s e n t a t i o n of
eros among women and men. Instead i t i s a p ictu re of powerlessness
and ex p lo ita tio n in which women must keep lis te n in g , hoping, and
s t a r v i n g , e m o tio n a lly , f o r a s ig n o f th e man’s lo v e , or h is
in d ifference. J u lia Bertram gets her sign when Henry Crawford asks
h e r no t to p lay Agatha to h i s F re d e ric k . But M aria only r e c e iv e s
hers when Henry leaves. W e know what her r e la tio n to him has been
from her agonized pleasure a t h is merely "retain in g her hand" (176)
when the young people h e a r o f S i r Thomas's e a r l y r e tu rn s "She
h a ile d i t [ h is s t i l l h o ld in g h e r hand] a s an e a r n e s t o f th e most
s e r io u s d e te r m in a tio n ," "a moment o f such p e c u l i a r p ro o f . . .
w o r th a g e s o f d o u b t and a n x i e t y . " T h is g i v e s way to h e r
" a g i t a t i o n " (191) and "a sad anx io u s day" (192) w a itin g f o r Henry
Crawford to propose, "feverish enjoyment" when he f in a lly v i s i t s ,
and "acute suffering" when he leaves. This is a s e lf-d e s tru c tiv e
r e l a t i o n to men, a r e l a t i o n whose masochism i s r e i n f o r c e d by th e
c u l t u r e . I t i s M arianne Dashwood's r e l a t i o n to John W illoughby,
E liz a b e th E l l i o t ' s to W illiam E l l i o t , and I s a b e l l a Thorpe's to
F re d e ric k T iln ey . M aria i s un ab le to ev er judge fo r h e r s e l f , to
behave as an independent person with standards of her own for love,
because the cu ltu re e sta b lish e s connections between the genders so
as to g iv e men most o f th e power. M aria i s too e n t h r a l l e d by
q u e s tio n s o f w hether Henry Crawford w i l l l i k e h e r b e t t e r than
89
J u l i a , and w hether he w i l l propose to h er so t h a t she w i l l be
r e le a s e d from h e r engagement to Mr. Rushworth, to have developed
standards of what i s noble, dear, and in te re stin g .
On h is s id e , Henry Crawford se e s love as a way women b e tr a y
th e m se lv e s or a re conquered by men, som ething men d ece iv e women
i n t o , th e m se lv e s "esc ap in g h e a rt-w h o le ," while the woman is l e f t
t o , as he p u ts i t , " f e e l when I go away t h a t she s h a l l be n ev er
happy again." (231) Mr. Crawford uses h is prerogative of choosing
among women, e n fo rced by th e p a t r i a r c h y , to d a l l y w ith M aria and
J u lia Bertram, as w ell as many of Mary Crawford’s London friends.
But " d a lly ," I t h in k , i s too in n o c e n t a word. Henry Crawford
consciously torments, even to rtu re s , them. He wants to make them
love him by p re te n d in g to c a re about them. Next he w i l l t r y to
"make a small hole in Fanny P rice's heart," an image which reveals
how Henry's philandering m irrors h is idea of sex. I t is aggressive
and rap e-lik e. What he wants from Fanny is a p e rs is te n t adoration,
n o t th e e m o tio n a lly se c u re i n t e r e s t o f a s tr o n g , s e p a r a te p erso n
who is in te re s tin g in her own rig h t. He craves more worship than
any eq u al r e l a t i o n e v er b e sto w s, a c ra v in g which grows more
demanding as he g r a t i f i e s i t more o f te n . Though Mary Crawford
o b se rv e s t h a t Henry "has n e v e r been a d d ic te d to " a "tendency to
f a l l in love h i m s e l f ," (363) he i s becoming a d d ic te d to making
women addicted to him. He fin a lly cannot r e s i s t the tem ptation to
see M aria Rushworth, n o tw ith s ta n d in g his hopes for Fanny Price's
a f f e c t i o n . M a n sfie ld P a rk 's d e s c r i p t i o n o f why Henry s ta y s in
90
London instead of going to h is p ro je cts a t Everingham seems almost
to r e p r e s e n t an a d d i c t 's p ro c e ss o f succumbing to a c ra v in g : "He
resolved to defer h is Norfolk journey, resolved th a t w riting should
answer the purpose of i t , or th a t i t s purpose was unim portant—and
s t a i d ." (-467) Henry C raw ford's pique about M aria's h o s t i l i t y i s
not sex u ality , not a ttr a c tiv e eroticism . I t is compulsion of more
than one s o r t— i t i s conquering and s e lf-d e stru c tio n .
When Fleishman says "Fanny's re je c tio n of Henry is not born of
m oral c o n v ic tio n , f o r Henry has up to t h a t p o in t done n o th in g
beyond f l i r t i n g with Maria during the re h e a rs a ls," 11 h is a ttitu d e
captures the t e r r i b l e danger, the im p lic it sexism, in defining the
Mansfield th e a tr ic a ls as em otionally lib e ra te d , as p o sitiv e moments
o f " s e l f - e x p r e s s i o n and a r t i s t r y . " 1^ Such re sp o n s e s serv e to
v i n d i c a t e the custom ary m iso g y n is t r u l e s and h o s t i l i t y toward
women, measured by the b lith e acceptance of women's su fferin g such
d e fin itio n s of freedom contain. Usual readings are coldly obtuse
about Maria's pain. He does not r e f l e c t th a t much of what is done
to women by men i s p s y c h o lo g ic a l. Henry Crawford has h u r t both
J u l i a and M aria w ith h i s " c o l d - b l o o d e d v a n i t y , " h i s s e l f -
indulgence, and fa r from ju s t being blind to th e ir unhappiness, he
r e l i s h e s i t and even aim s f o r i t . We know t h a t Mr. Crawford has
wanted to be able to congratulate him self with the Bertram s i s t e r s '
pain. W e know th a t by how he discusses making "Fanny Price in love
w ith " him. (229) We know a ls o t h a t Henry, and M aria, and J u l i a ,
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and Mary Craw ford, in t h e i r v i s i o n s o f se x u a l p a s s io n , mean each
other i l l and do themselves harm.
Many r e a d e rs c o n tin u e to th in k o f Henry Crawford and Fanny
Price, and Mary Crawford and Edmund Bertram as the true couples of
Mansfield Park, leaving Fanny Price and Edmund Bertram as only the
runners-up, the second-best. I believe th a t looking a t Mansfield
Park from a new f e m i n i s t p e r s p e c t i v e w i l l save us from t h a t
m is ta k e , as w e ll as th e e r r o r o f th in k in g t h a t th e Craw fords
represent freedom while Fanny and Edmund demonstrate conformity to
the ru le s of an older time. McDonnell n otices th a t Henry Crawford
reck o n s up Fanny's good q u a l i t i e s l i k e a s p e c ts o f an o b j e c t , but
she p u ts t h a t down to A usten's in a d e q u a te , a n t e d i l u v i a n sense o f
love, and continues to argue th a t the Crawfords represent a freed
f u t u r e , w h ile Austen su p p o rts a c o n s e r v a tiv e p a s t sym bolized by
Fanny P r i c e . 13 what becomes a p p a re n t when we look a t M an sfield
Park in a f e m in i s t l i g h t , and a c c e p t i t as a f e m in i s t n o v e l, i s
th a t Henry Crawford represents the p a tria rc h a l notion of a lo v er-
hero who w ill force a meek yet unw illing woman to love him. This
has a ring of rape, and i t is the kind of myth and hero our cu lture
continually encourages; such myths make the idea of male aggression
a g a i n s t f e m a l e s n o t o n ly p a l a t a b l e , b u t s e x y . H ow ever,
Mansfield Park shows us th a t male aggression against women is not
sexy, any more than John Thorpe's boorish "kidnapping" of Catherine
Morland made him a t t r a c t i v e . I t did th e r e v e r s e . So does Mr.
Crawford's attem pt to bulldoze Fanny's affectio n s.
92
At th e end o f th e n o v e l, we a re l e f t w ith a p i c t u r e o f what
might have been. I f Edmund had married Mary Crawford, then Fanny
would, a f t e r "a reasonable period," have married Henry. (467) But
t h a t would mean t h a t Henry had l a i d a s id e h is d i l e t t a n t i s h l i f e ,
where he i s un ab le to keep to a n y th in g " fo r a co n sta n cy ." Simply
s ta y in g in love w ith th e same woman, one so i n t e l l i g e n t and
d e l i c a t e , would have ta u g h t him a d e lic a c y o f f e e l i n g t h a t he
needed to become more lik e Mr. Darcy, or Anne E llio t, and le ss lik e
the q u a s i-ra p ist the cu ltu re has taught him to be.
Mary Crawford's depiction of Fanny's l i f e a f t e r her marriage
to Henry i s expressed as, "I leave him e n tire ly to your mercy; and
when he has g o t you a t Everingham , I do not care how much you
l e c t u r e him." (363) Mary's p i c t u r e o f Fanny's pow er, o f th e way
Henry would be a t her "mercy," is muted over by th a t ominous phrase
"got you a t Everingham." I t shows us t h a t a l l r e a l power would
reside with Henry. I t takes for granted an h o s tile , b a t t l e - f i l l e d
r e la tio n which Fanny would lose in a way Mary thinks is e ro tic . A
woman may be a b le to t a l k , even to " l e c t u r e ," bu t I h e a r Mary's
words as im p ly in g t h a t such t a l k am ounts to l i t t l e more th an
e n tr a n c in g s e x - i n c e n t i v e s , aphrodisiacs to Henry Crawford's sated
mind. Such "lectures" are le ss than a ju s t punishment for Henry's
p lo ts against women. Fanny would do the talk in g but i t would not
be heard s e r i o u s l y . Her re p ro a c h e s would be seen as t a n t a l i z i n g
lo v e - c h a t which would t r e a t Mr. C raw ford's c r u e l e x p l o i t s in the
same l i g h t as Mary se e s them. Mary Crawford s id e s w ith th e
93
v icto rio u s male ag ain st her fellow-women. Her "He has now and then
been a sad f l i r t , and cared very l i t t l e for the havock he might be
making in young la d ie s' a ffe c tio n s," (363) i s the voice of someone
philosophising about people she fe e ls no kinship with. She is also
seeing from only the male c u l p r i t ’s point of view. But because she
is also a woman, Mary’s is a s e lf-h a tin g a ttitu d e .
/
Henry and Mary C ra w fo rd i n f a c t r e p r e s e n t a form o f
p a tria rc h a l, th a t i s , tr a d itio n a l thinking about love and marriage
which Austen's novels debunk in favor of something b e tte r. Henry
wants to dally with women's a ffe c tio n s , then wants to oblige Fanny
to lo v e him, d e s i r i n g "the g lo r y , a s w e ll as th e f e l i c i t y , of
f o r c in g h e r to love him." (326) Mary Crawford a ls o th in k s in
terms of such glory, admonishing Fanny,
"And th e n , Fanny, th e g lo ry o f f ix i n g one who has been
sh o t a t by so many; o f having th e power to pay o f f th e
d e b ts o f one's sex! Oh, I am su re i t i s n o t in woman's
nature to refuse such a triumph." (363)
But in A usten's n o v e ls , where sim p le a f f e c t i o n i s i n s u f f i c i e n t ,
"g lo ry " i s m erely a poor s u b s t i t u t e , sought by th o se who only
f e e b ly lo v e . O ther p e o p le 's awe w i l l n o t make lo v e more r e a l or
ex citin g ; love remains a purely personal feelin g , and degrading i t
i n t o a s p e c t a t o r s p o r t as th e C raw fords do, cannot e n e rg iz e i t .
Ma n s f i e l d P a rk show s t h a t o n ly weak a f f e c t i o n s n eed su ch
t i t i l l a t i o n .
Meanwhile, i t seems never to occur to Mary th a t the way to pay
o ff the debts of women i s not to give Henry Crawford exactly what
94
he w ants. For Fanny to put h e r s e l f under Henry's t h r a l l w i l l n o t
teach him anything. Mary's view allows Henry to do women as much
e v i l as he w is h e s, and th en would rew ard h i s w ish f o r som ething
w o n d e rfu l, l i k e a c o n n e c tio n to Fanny P r ic e , by besto w in g i t .
Henry and Mary Crawford are ch aracters who conceive of love as only
a b a t t l e betw een the g en d ers in s te a d o f the t r u l y te n d e r , lo v in g
connection which Austen envisions. And the r e s u l t , we may f a i r l y
s u rm is e , would pro b ab ly r e p l i c a t e th e r e s u l t o f th e p re v io u s
generation's "captivation." M aria Ward " c a p t i v a t e [d ]" S ir Thomas
B ertram , but h e r "good luck" (3) le a d s as much to "su b m issio n "
(370) a s i t does to r i c h e s , f o r when th ey d is a g r e e , she i s
v a n q u ish e d , because, as the n a r r a t o r p o in te d ly in fo rm s u s, S i r
Thomas "was master a t Mansfield Park." (370)
McDonnell a rg u e s t h a t one o f Fanny's fla w s i s to be "m ale-
1 h
i d e n t i f i e d . " 1 But i f t h e r e i s a woman in th e novel who i s m ale-
i d e n t i f i e d , i t i s no t Fanny P r ic e . Mary Crawford disavow s h e r
i d e n t i t y w i t h o t h e r women, i d e n t i f y i n g i n s t e a d w i t h th e
m a n ip u la tio n s o f h e r b r o th e r . She i s unmoved when Fanny P ric e
a s s e r t s h e r f in e d e fen se o f women and condem nation of Henry
Crawford's cru e lty ,
I had not, Miss Crawford, been an in a tte n tiv e observer of
what passed between him and some p a rt of th i s fam ily in
the summer and autumn. I was q u ie t, but I was not blind.
I could not but see th a t Mr. Crawford allowed him self in
g a lla n tr ie s which did mean nothing. (363)
To t h i s , Mary an sw ers b l i t h e l y as we have heard above. She
c o n tin u e s , "I have o f te n sco ld e d him f o r i t , but i t is h is only
95
f a u l t ; and t h e r e i s t h i s to be s a i d , t h a t v ery few young l a d i e s
have any a f f e c t i o n w orth c a r in g f o r . ” This i s th e mind t h a t has
been c a l l e d so l i v e l y , seen a s so f r e e . Mary Crawford i s
conforming to the standard m isogynistic sentim ent of her culture.
We know t h a t Mary does b e lie v e Fanny’s a f f e c t i o n s a re w orth
so m eth in g , y e t h e r " s c o ld in g ” o f Henry when he s e t ou t to s p o rt
w ith Fanny was no t very se v e re . Her e x p r e s s io n "young l a d i e s , "
said tw ice, and the b e lie f th a t very few are worth defending, shows
exactly the so rt of thinking Austen wishes to change. Mary im plies
two th in g s : t h a t men a re e n t i t l e d to m ajor f a u l t s , and t h a t
women's emotions do not m atter. Austen teaches th a t women need not
s e t t l e fo r Henry's f a u l t , t h a t i t s being th e only one does no t
j u s t i f y i t . But more, she defends women. W e need to n o t i c e th e
f in e n e s s o f Fanny's re sp o n s e , h e r s e r io u s n e s s opposed to Mary's
l e v i t y , "Fanny shook h e r head. 'I cannot th in k w e ll o f a man who
s p o r t s w ith any woman's f e e l i n g s ; and th e r e may o f te n be a g r e a t
deal more suffered than a stander-by can judge of." Austen shows
t h a t we need to change our tone from lau g h in g a t women's p ain to
serious concern with i t , from t r i t e d ism issal to care.
Henry and Mary Crawford p r e s e n t a s e x i s t n o tio n of love and
marriage, and esp e c ia lly of women, and how women are affected by
m a rria g e . Henry e x p la in s h is f a l l i n g in love w ith Fanny as "'How
th e p le a s in g plague had s t o l e n on him' he could n o t say." (292)
What he does n o t say i s "I lo v e Fanny," as E liz a b e th Bennet says
she lo v e s Mr. Darcy. I n s te a d , we h e a r "He was in lo v e , v ery much
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in love." (326) We a re t o l d t h a t "Fanny's beauty o f face and
f i g u r e , Fanny's g ra c e s o f manner and goodness o f h e a r t were the
exhaustless theme. The gentleness, modesty, and sweetness of her
c h a r a c t e r were warmly e x p ia te d on." (294) Henry has p le n ty o f
good reasons fo r wanting to marry Fanny, "Her temper he had reason
to depend on and to p r a i s e . . . . Her a f f e c t i o n s were e v id e n tly
s tr o n g , . . . Her u n d e rs ta n d in g was . . . qu ick and c l e a r ; and h e r
manners were the m irror of her own modest and elegant mind." (294)
McDonnell d isa p p ro v e s o f Henry Crawford f a l l i n g in love w ith
Fanny's v i r t u e s , ^ bu t she co n clu d es th a t Austen acquiesces, th a t
Austen p r e s e n t s Henry's as th e b e s t t h a t love can be. In A usten's
novels we need to ask whether our perceptions are called for by the
te x t. Mansfield Park s p e c ific a lly shows th a t Henry's is not love
a t a l l . Henry Crawford e n v is io n s a r e l a t i o n where he i s t a l k i n g
instead of attending, f u l f i l l i n g h is own needs, "'I could so wholly
and a b s o lu t e l y c o n fid e in h e r , ' s a id he; 'and t h a t i s what I
w ant.'" (294) Of c o u rse he does. We a l l want t h a t , but need to
d e se rv e a l o v e r 's t r u s t w o r t h i n e s s as w e l l , by being w orthy o f
confidence o u rselv es.
Henry's adm iration for Fanny comes, as adm iration for women so
o f te n does in t h i s c u l t u r e , a t th e expense o f every o th e r woman.
Henry ta lk s with sneering su p e rio rity of what w ill excite a man's
lo v e , a s i f th e r e i s no q u e s tio n o f what a t t a c h e s a woman, as i f
th e power i s a l l on the man's s id e . He says o f M aria and J u l i a ,
"They w i l l now see what s o r t o f woman i t i s t h a t can a t t a c h me,
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t h a t can a t t a c h a man o f sen se. I w ish th e d is c o v e ry may do them
any good.” (297) Such c a n t presum es t h a t the r e a l i t y o f love is
what the c u ltu re p rescrib es; a man chooses a woman to be h is wife;
she loves him out of g ra titu d e . Henry’s own way of talk in g is not
th e language o f g r a t i t u d e , or o f humble hope. His i s th e tone o f
an unreformed F itzw illiam Darcy who arrogantly thinks he has only
to p ic k , w h ile women must m easure up to h i s e x a c tin g s ta n d a rd s .
This is the voice of one who tr e a ts the c u ltu re ’s conventions as i f
they r e f l e c t r e a l i ty , what i s true and good. Such a view presumes
th a t Fanny w ill be g r a tif ie d to be shown o ff as the woman who one-
upped a l l o th e r women, th e exem plar who w i l l show a l l h er
c o m p e titio n what i t ta k e s to a t t a c h a man o f sen se. What we can
see h ere i s t h a t i t i s n o t Austen who seeks to e s t a b l i s h an
e x em p lar; i t i s h er r e a d e r s , and i t i s th o se ex ponents of
com petition, Henry and Mary Crawford.
Henry Crawford s c o rn s women in a n o th e r way by b e l i t t l i n g
women's, h e r e , M aria R ushw orth's, c o n sta n c y , ’’f o r I am no t such a
coxcomb as to suppose her feelin g s more la s tin g than other women's,
though 1^ was th e o b j e c t o f them .” (297) This i s o u tra g e o u s
misogyny; a man has no business to condemn a woman for fo rg e ttin g
him when he n e v e r h eld th e f a i n t e s t a l l e g i a n c e to h e r, bu t on th e
c o n tr a r y led h e r i n t o love w ith h e a r t l e s s d is d a in . To A usten, as
Morgan has shown, i t i s good to fo rg et someone lik e th a t, to try to
outgrow the "love," as Edmund Bertram does Mary Crawford.1 ^ Even
i f Fanny were to lo v e Henry, th e r e would be tr o u b l e in s t o r e f o r
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her. Mary’s sense of th is is exposed.
Henry, I th in k so h ig h ly o f Fanny P r ic e , t h a t i f I could
suppose the next Mrs. Crawford would have h a lf the reason
which my poor i l l used aunt had to abhor the very name, I
would prevent the marriage, i f possible,
seems very la u d a b le , p e rh a p s, u n t i l we compare i t w ith what
f o llo w s . Mary c o n tin u e s , "but I know you, I know t h a t a w ife you
loved would be the happiest of women, and th a t even when you ceased
to love, she would find in you the l i b e r a l i t y and good-breeding of
a gentleman." (296)
Henry too sees him self as the benevolent d ic ta to r. "What can
S i r Thomas and Edmund to g e th e r do, what do_ th ey do f o r h e r
h a p p in e s s, c o m fo rt, honour, and d i g n i t y in the w orld to what I
s h a ll do?" (297) This shows how l i t t l e Henry knows Fanny, fo r Sir
Thomas and p a r t i c u l a r l y Edmund do and mean much f o r Fanny.
B esid e s, Fanny does n o t a s p i r e to be a queen o f s o c ie ty . But i t
also shows how l i t t l e humble Henry Crawford is in his hopes. Mr.
Darcy i s thankful to Elizabeth Bennet fo r having "properly humbled"
him, but Henry Crawford is capable of no such remorse or education.
And Henry's grandiose claim s also emphasize h is continual h ab it of
planning g reat e f fo r ts for the fu tu re, from which he allows him self
to be tu rn e d a s id e . Fanny i s r i g h t ab o u t him; he may n o t be
"afraid of the word" constancy, (3^3) but he forgets i t very soon.
When Henry says about Fanny th a t " i t w ill be the completion of
my happiness to know th a t I am the doer of i t , th a t I am the person
to g iv e th e consequence so j u s t l y h e r d ue," (297) he ta k e s c r e d i t
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fo r som ething he i s a b le to do only because th e c u l t u r e i s so
u n f a i r to women. Fanny should be a b le to fin d or be accorded the
consequence so j u s t l y h e r due w ith o u t having to m arry f o r i t , to
g e t i t fo r her own sake in s te a d of through s t a t u s as somebody’s
w ife . To A usten, th e consequence which c o u n ts i s p e r s o n a l and
earned through tim e ; i f Fanny has n o t seemed to have i t b e fo re
Maria leaves Mr. Rushworth w ith Henry Crawford, i t i s a reproach to
S ir Thomas, n o t to Fanny. Henry i s r i g h t ; t h e r e would be a
d i f f e r e n c e in e v e ry o n e 's tr e a t m e n t o f Fanny i f she were to m arry
him. But he should no t t h e r e f o r e tak e ad v antage o f t h a t to fo rc e
h e r to m arry him, or even ta k e p rid e in what he i s a b le to do only
because of an u n f a i r c u l t u r e . Henry t a l k s as i f he i s g lad t h a t
th e i n e q u a l i t y e x i s t s in o rd e r t h a t he m ight r e c t i f y i t f o r t h i s
one person, and g et the c re d it for i t .
With Henry C raw ford, th e n a r r a t o r ta k e s on th e problem o f
power r e s t i n g only in men's hands and shows how women lo s e the
a b i l i t y to p r o t e c t th e m se lv e s from c a r e l e s s l y - i n f l i c t e d h u r t
because we become so absorbed in whether a man is a ttra c te d to us
th a t i t i s d i f f i c u l t to ask, "Is he worthy?" Mansfield Park shows
how th e c u l t u r e , by, in Henry T iln e y 's w ords, g iv in g to men the
power of choice while women r e ta in only the power of re fu s a l, s e ts
up love re la tio n s between the genders to contain not love, but fear
and power. That i s why both Henry and Mary Crawford are obsessed
with power and conquering. Fanny Price, and a l l of Austen's other
leading ch aracters, show what else love can be.
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Henry Crawford w ants to be e v e r y th in g , w ith o u t having th e
p a tie n c e and s te a d in e s s o f e f f o r t which w i l l a llo w him to do
anything w ith h is l i f e but harm. Fanny i s the perceptive one. She
u n d e rsta n d s t h a t Henry’s d i f f i c u l t y i s in p e r s i s t i n g w ith h is
e f f o r t s . He can n o t do t h a t because th e n ex t g r a t i f i c a t i o n
continually seems yet more en ticing, putting previous reso lu tio n s
o u t o f h i s mind. ’’Everingham ” i s an a p p r o p r i a t e name f o r h i s
e s t a t e ; Henry Crawford w ants e v e ry th in g . His problem i s t h a t he
cannot t e l l the d ifferen ce between the respective values of being
happily and mutually in love with Fanny Price, and the id le vanity
of a renewed f l i r t a t i o n with Maria Rushworth. Henry does not want
to be devoted to anyone, o r he does not know what t h a t means. He
cannot su stain h is a tte n tio n to any woman. He does not know th a t
i f he r e a l l y loved Fanny P r ic e , no th o u g h t o f M aria Rushw orth’s
’’c o ld n e s s ," (467) or th e "so proud a d i s p l a y o f re s e n tm e n t," (468)
she makes, could have "m ortified" his pride. However Maria tre ated
him, h is masculine hackles, h is egocentric d esire to conquer, would
no t b r is t l e .
Reproaching Fanny, Mary Crawford says to Edmund th a t i f Fanny
had accepted him, "Henry would have been too happy and too busy to
want any other object. He would have taken no pains to be on terms
w ith Mrs. Rushworth ag a in ." (456) What th e Craw fords cannot
u n d e rsta n d i s t h a t , lo v in g Fanny, Henry should have been s a fe in
any case. Loving Fanny should have been enough—there should have
been no need for, no a ttr a c tio n in, "a regular standing f l i r t a t i o n
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in y e a r ly m ee tin g s a t S o th e rto n and Everingham." (456) When
F leishm an a rg u es about the C raw fords t h a t " I t i s f e e l i n g t h a t
betrays them, most b i t t e r l y in Henry,"1 ^ I feel he i s being fa r too
k ind. I t proves A usten's p o in t t h a t th e r e i s no e q u a l i t y of
punishm ent in t h i s w orld f o r men. F le ish m a n 's i s th e a g e -o ld
defense of men's i n f i d e l i t i e s : " th e ir feelin g s got the b e tte r of
them ," "they were too s u s c e p t i b l e ," "they were led a s t r a y by a
woman." However Fleishman t r i e s to acquit Henry with m asculinist
e x c u s e s , Ma n s f i e l d P a rk show s t h a t i t i s Mr. C r a w f o r d 's
"indulge[nee] in the freaks of a cold-blooded vanity" (467) which
ru in h is happiness.
Fanny h e r s e l f i s very c l e a r about Henry. When Edmund so
s e l f i s h l y pushes h e r to a c c e p t Henry, "Fanny, f e e l i n g i t due to
h e rse lf" (349) describes how she "cannot approve his character":
I th en saw him behaving, as i t appeared to me, so very
improperly and unfeelingly, I may speak of i t now because
i t i s a l l over—so improperly by poor Mr. Rushworth, not
seem ing to care how he exposed or h u rt him, and paying
a t t e n t i o n s to my co u sin M aria, w hich— in s h o r t , a t the
tim e of the p la y , I r e c e iv e d an im p re s s io n which w i l l
never be got over. (349)
Fanny i s d i f f i d e n t about e x p re s s in g h e r u n d e rsta n d in g o f Mr.
Crawford here, because Edmund has ju s t reproved her for being "so
determined and positive! This is not lik e yourself, your ra tio n a l
se lf." (347) That i s why Fanny's d e claratio n of how Mr. Crawford
is unworthy is understated and, a c tu a lly , only half-expressed. But
th e f o rc e o f Fanny's f a i r n e s s , o f h e r b e l i e f t h a t Henry Crawford
must be h e ld a c c o u n ta b le f o r h is m a c h in a tio n s re m a in s. G en tly ,
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Fanny a ls o p o in ts o u t t h a t Henry did more th an f l i r t w ith M aria:
"Before the play, I am much mistaken, i f J u lia did not think he was
paying h e r a t t e n t i o n s . " (350) Edmund’s re sp o n s e , though, i s to
blame e v e ry th in g on h is s i s t e r s , c la im in g t h a t "I th in k i t very
p o s s ib le t h a t th e y m ig h t, one or b oth, be more d e s ir o u s o f being
admired by Crawford, and might show th a t d esire ra th e r more than
was p e r f e c t l y p ru d e n t." (350) The v o ic e who means to recommend
prudence to women, and to l i b e r a t e men from r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r
t h e i r actions i s Edmund's, not Austen’s. This moment, highlighting
the inadequacy of Edmund's conclusions, lik e the po rtray al of Mary
C raw ford's com placency, i n v i t e s r e a d e r s to n o t i c e how v ie w e rs
temporize with male v ic tim iz a tio n of women.
Edmund goes on to argue t h a t "There could be n o th in g very
s trik in g [in Henry's a tte n tio n s to Maria and J u lia ] because i t is
c le a r th a t he had no pretensions; h is h e a rt was reserved for you."
No, i t was n o t, and th e f a c t t h a t Henry now w ants to m arry Fanny
d o e s n o t mean t h a t he d id n o t make M a ria b e l i e v e he had
p r e te n s io n s . Or, th e t r u t h t h a t he had no p r e te n s io n s to marry
Maria does not prove th a t there was "nothing very strik in g " in h is
a tte n tio n s to her. Henry directed very s trik in g a tte n tio n s toward
Maria, even though he took care to l e t no one but Maria, J u lia , and
Fanny know.
Fanny's n ex t d e fe n se i s c r u c i a l . "Let him have a l l the
p e r f e c t i o n s in th e w o rld , I th in k i t ought n o t to be s e t down as
c e rta in , th a t a man must be acceptable to every woman he may happen
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to l i k e h im s e lf ." (353) This i s a c e n t r a l p le a f o r woman to be
able to choose as well as men. I t escapes the notion of ta ste and
com petition which supposes th a t we are a l l competing for the same
men, t h a t the same few men a re t a r g e t s o f a l l women. Fanny i s
showing us t h a t a tta c h m e n t needs to be more p e rs o n a l th an t h a t ,
th a t ju s t because Mr. Bingley is rich and good-humored, Elizabeth
Bennet need no t f a l l in love w ith him. This i s th e o b je c t o f
Elizabeth's joke th a t she loves Mr. Darcy b e tte r than Mr. Bingley.
This i s also Emma Woodhouse's mistake when she elab o rately makes an
e x c e p tio n o f Mr. E lton as she sa y s, "I must see somebody very
superior to any one I have seen y e t, to be tempted" to marry. "Mr.
E lto n , you know, ( r e c o l l e c t i n g h e r s e l f , ) i s out o f the q u e s tio n ."
(84) Emma pretends th a t she would love Mr. Elton i f H arriet Smith
were not around, fa ls e ly assuming th a t th is must be true i f H arriet
i s to be convinced to love th is man.
As Fanny a s k s, "How was I to have an a tta c h m e n t a t h is
service, as soon as i t was asked for?" (353) This i s exactly the
point. Many people think i t romantic th a t men have a l l the power,
th a t women should be waiting and hoping, and then when men f in a lly
deign to ask women to m arry them, s tre a m i n t o t e a r s of joy and a
g asp in g "Oh, y es!" The a u th o r o f M a n sfie ld Park i s n o t moved by
t h i s dream, and o f f e r s us in s te a d a v i s i o n o f romance which I
believe we can term "fem inist." This novel gives us a protagonist
who p r o t e c t s h e r s e l f , who does not love a man who seeks to
e n t e r t a i n h i m s e l f by a r o u s i n g h e r a f f e c t i o n s t h r o u g h i d l e
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a tte n tio n s. She cre a te s a main character who i s not to be a lte re d
by finding th a t th is man has talked him self into wanting to marry
h e r. One o f th e u n f o r tu n a te e f f e c t s o f th e c u r r e n t system i s
th a t women are encouraged to love anyone who asks them to out of
g r a t i t u d e , but more? because they a re sim p ly so r e l i e v e d to be
asked, and so glad to be chosen above other women.
Recognizing the d i f f i c u l t y of seeing outside her own cu ltu re ,
Austen does not pretend to do i t . She does not try to t e l l us what
l i v i n g would be l i k e i f women sh ared power e q u a lly w ith men.
Instead her f ic tio n poses questions, makes some d is tin c tio n s , but
leaves us to s o rt even the l a t t e r out for ourselves. But she shows
us through Fanny P ric e t h a t women need not tak e M aria B ertram 's
" s e l f - r e v e n g e ” o f a c t i n g out th e r o u t i n e s e s t a b l i s h e d by th e
patriarchy. Even without money, without a home of her own, Fanny
can a c t to p r o t e c t h e r s e l f and o t h e r women. "In t h i s w o rld , th e
punishm ent i s le s s equal than could be w ish ed ," th e n a r r a t o r
c o m m e n ts. Henry C ra w fo rd d o e s n o t f a c e t h e same k in d o f
consequences th a t Maria Bertram Rushworth does. But Mansfield Park
shows us th a t, even so, he w i l l not be a happy person. Austen does
n o t demand f o r women th e power to h u r t men as men have damaged
women. She knows t h a t w i l l n o t b rin g us h a p p in e s s. R a th e r, she
asks how can we s t i l l do good things with our liv e s, how help each
other, how have the pleasure of being loved and ex citin g in te r e s t,
and how we can enjoy our own devotion to a few others.
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McDonnell and Y e a z e ll have read th e happy end o f M a n s f i e l d
Park as a r e t r e a t from modern s e x u a l i t y . 1® The union of Fanny
Price and Edmund Bertram symbolizes to them a s o rt of incestuous
s i s t e r - b r o t h e r anom aly, t h a t i s , in c e s tu o u s y e t devoid o f sex u a l
passion. McDonnell sees Henry Crawford's "sexuality" as too huge a
th re a t for Fanny and her author. The novel is thus seen as hiding
from a d u lt ero ticism . Many readers apply a s im ila r in te rp re ta tio n
to the ro le of "Asia" in Shelley's Prometheus Unbound. But in both
works, new emblems of sex u ality are created which serve to remove
the violence from ideas of the e ro tic . Mansfield Park's vision of
Fanny P r i c e 's love f o r Edmund Bertram e l i m i n a t e s th e elem en t o f
f e a r and su b m issio n from our id e a s o f women's lo v e , rem oving as
w ell the warfare and the aggression ag ain st women from our images
o f e r o t i c p a s sio n . But I th in k we can measure how l o s t our sen se
of l i b e r a t i o n has become i f sex in any form i s i n t e r p r e t e d as
l i b e r a t i o n fo r women, and r e s t r a i n t in any form i s m aligned as
conservative prudery.
Women have been as oppressed by sex in our culture as we have
been by p ru d ery . Rape i s only one way. I t can be d e fin e d more
r e a d i l y than o th e r forms o f v i c tim iz a tio n , although so c io lo g ists
a re d is c o v e rin g t h a t even t h a t i s q u e s tio n a b le . Many women who
have been raped do not even r e a l i z e t h a t a crim e was com m itted
against them because so many rapes are suffered on dates, where no
m atter how violated they fe e l, women think they are themselves to
blam e. But th e p r e s s u re on women to e n t e r t a i n men th ro u g h sex
106
takes many shapes; there i s p ro s titu tio n , and there is what current
s tu d i e s o f teenaged women r e v e a l : a f e e l i n g t h a t they a re
o b lig a te d to have sex w ith t h e i r young b o y frie n d s . Readers o f
M a n sfie ld Park, and A usten's o th e r n o v e ls , need to remember how
c e n t r a l to our c u r r e n t wave o f th e women's movement has been th e
p ro te st against the ex p lo ita tio n of women as objects only of men's
sexual desire. Austen shows us th a t i f bondage and r e s t r a i n t are
our problems, the answer is not to be found in sexual bondage. Or
even in th e freedom j u s t to have sex. We need new id e a s o f
selfhood for women, and new images of intimacy between women and
men.
In her novels, Austen is sorting out the problems caused by an
u n f a i r p a t r i a r c h a l system to a f f e c t i o n a t e r e l a t i o n s betw een th e
genders. But more, she is inventing a new vision of love. Now our
feminism needs to catch up w ith hers. Austen i s making p ic tu re s of
how women can be eq u al p a r t n e r s in the r e l a t i o n s we form. Her
n o v e ls t r y to tak e th e f e a r out o f th e c lu e s , o r th e s ig n s , by
which women recognize th a t we are in love. These books re c a st love
as something where we fe e l most confident, most ourselves, le a s t
a fra id , le a s t intim idated. No longer w ill we be fascinated by the
d a u n tin g handsome s t r a n g e r , but by th e p erso n n e x t door who i s
b e w itc h in g because he or she i s so w ell-know n, so lo v a b le , and
because we simply have so much fun together. Mansfield Park shows
us how many kinds of love there are: Fanny's sisterhood for Maria
and J u lia Bertram, for Susan Price, her concern fo r Lady Bertram,
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h e r lo v in g r e s p e c t f o r S i r Thomas, and h e r "unchecked, e q u a l,
fe a rle s s intercourse" with William. (234)
The " tru e love" (473) which Fanny P ric e u l t i m a t e l y a c h ie v e s
w ith Edmund Bertram is no t in c e s tu o u s . I t r e p r e s e n t s A usten's
e f f o r t to make us see beyond b a t t l e s betw een th e g en d ers when we
im agine a f f e c t i o n , to f e e l love as som ething more g e n t l e and
n orm al, s p rin g in g up among a l l one's o th e r sy m p a th ie s — no t as
something w ar-like and conquering, or even g lorious and triumphant.
Fanny's a ffe c tio n for Edmund Bertram, her fond sense th a t "He was
only too good to every body," (425) i s an in n o v a tiv e v i s io n of
love, of a new sexuality expressed through tenderness ra th e r than
through kidnapping and conquering, seduction and taking in. Austen
show s how w h a t i s e r o t i c n eed n o t be w h a t i s v i o l e n t and
a g g r e s s iv e , but should be what i s h o n o ra b le , c o m p lic a te d , more
d eeply a c q u a in te d th a n th e s l i g h t e r co n cern and d r iv in g g reed o f
Henry and Mary Crawford to possess Fanny and Edmund. The Crawfords
d e s i r e only a s e t o f m annerism s which seem a t t r a c t i v e on th e
outside, without tru ly knowing much about the ch aracters they think
they love. To Austen, the e ro tic should not be a fig h t ending in a
"c le n c h ," f o r she knows only too w e ll which gen d er i s supposed to
win th a t fig h t. Love should be something frien d ly , a feeling you
sh a re w ith someone you are no t a f r a i d of. Because t h a t i s the
problem w ith t r a d i t i o n a l r e l a t i o n s — they r e f l e c t th e power
imbalance in the cu ltu re , making the man the commander, woman the
108
intim idated s e rv ito r w illin g to s a c rif ic e what Betty Friedan c a lls
her "personhood" for the sake of a meaningless triumph.
Readers have been so busy ta g g in g Austen as a c o n s e r v a tiv e
t h a t th ey have been u nable to observe how she se e s beyond the
dominant oppositions which form the ru le s of our cu ltu re . Austen
uses her fa lse protagonists and fa lse lovers to debunk myths th a t
harm women— most i m p o r t a n t l y , t h a t s e x u a l i t y and w ickedness go
t o g e th e r w h ile s e c u r i t y and love keep us s a fe and bored. Many
r e a d e r s judge A usten’s work a c c o rd in g to t r a d i t i o n a l d u a lis m s ,
where "goodness and charm , a re conceived o f as o p p o s ite s ," as
Fergus says of Mansfield Park.1^ But in Austen’s books being e v il
i s ju s t being a clich e, refusing to develop an in te re s tin g re la tio n
t o e x p e r i e n c e , g r a b b i n g a t b o r i n g , ta m e , p r e d i c t a b l e
g r a tif ic a tio n s , instead of being in te re ste d in what is going on, in
what i s tru ly unpredictable. Henry and Mary Crawford, as Tave and
Morgan have shown, a re n o t " c h a r m i n g . I n d e e d , th ey would be
merely tedious i f not for the harm they do.
As A usten's n o v e ls look a t what i s u s u a lly a c c e p te d as love
r e la tio n s between women and men, they show th a t "love" does not so
much c o n ta in a f f e c t i o n as i t r e p l i c a t e s th e i n e q u a l i t i e s in a
cu ltu re which not only values men over women, but p riv ile g e s men in
p r o p o rtio n to i t s h o s t i l i t y to women. In t h i s c u l t u r e , A usten’s
books demonstrate, ideas of love are perverted from purely personal
k in d s o f g o o d - fe llo w s h ip i n t o a s t r u c t u r e , an i n s t i t u t i o n , o f
in tim id atio n and arrogance. Women s u ffe r as a re s u lt. Austen sees
109
th a t what we accept as a tra d itio n a l love r e la tio n , what women are
ta u g h t to dream o f , i s a r e l a t i o n where e m o tio n a l v io le n c e is
l e g i t i m a t e d and p e rc e iv e d as norm al because i t so th o ro u g h ly
r e f l e c t s the norm o f the c u l t u r e . Henry and Mary Crawford have
been misread as sexy, free-thinking c h aracters, ahead of Austen and
her tim es, a t t r a c t iv e people whom we would welcome to the tw entieth
c e n tu ry though t h e i r a u th o r sp u rn s them in h e rs . But what Henry
and Mary Crawford a c tu a lly represent is p a tria rc h a l tr a d itio n , the
old n o t th e new; th e Craw fords embody war b u i l t in t o lo v e , where
co n quering and g iv in g in a re th e only h e te r o s e x u a l r e l a t i o n s
a v a i l a b l e , and where no o th e r r e l a t i o n s m a tte r . But in A usten's
n o v els charm and goodness a re conceived o f as i d e n t i c a l . Fanny
P r ic e 's v a l i a n t e f f o r t s to defend o th e r women, h e r h e r o ic s e l f -
d e fe n s e , and h er c a re f o r o th e r p eo p le, do have charm. But i t is
the charm th a t long-loved and in tim a te ly known people have for us,
the charm of sisterhood, of brotherhood, and of love with equality.
110
Notes
^Shulasmith Firestone, The D ialectio of Sex: The Case for
F e m in is t R ev o lu tio n (New York: Bantam Books, 1972), pp. 126-45;
Susan Brownmiller, Against Our W ill: Men, Women and Rape (New
York: Bantam Books, 1976), pp. 6-7; Jo se p h in e Donovan, F e m in is t
Theory: The I n te lle c tu a l Traditions of American Feminism (New
York: F re d e ric k Ungar, 1985); pp. 143-53? J e s s i c a Benjam in, "The
Bonds o f Love: R a tio n a l V iolence and E r o tic D om ination," The
F u tu re o f D if fe r e n c e , ed. H ester E i s e n s t e i n and A lice J a rd in e
(B o s to n : G. K. H a l l , 1980; New B r u n s w ic k , N .J.: P r i n c e t o n
U niversity Press, 1985), p. 41.
^For i n s t a n c e , see Sandra M. G i l b e r t and Susan Gubar, The
Madwoman in the A ttic: The Woman W riter and the Nineteenth-Century
L iterary Imagination (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979), pp.
163-69; Jane M iller, Women Writing About Men (London: Virago Press,
1986), pp. 146-47.
/
% aren Newman, "Can This Marriage Be Saved: Jane Austen Makes
Sense of an Ending" English L iterary History 50 (Winter 1983): 700,
706, and J u d ith Lowder Newton, Women, Power, and S u b v ersio n :
Social S tra te g ie s in B ritis h F i c t i o n , 1778-1860 (A thens, Ga.:
U n iv e r s ity o f G eorgia P re s s , 1981), pp. x v i i , 77-84. Newton
comments t h a t "w h ile I was f in d in g s u b v e rs iv e power in Jane
A usten," she th o u g h t, " t h i s ca n ’t be! I must be going mad!"
( x v ii) U l t im a te ly , though, Newton a rg u es t h a t in Austen "the
re b e llio n i t s e l f works in the in te r e s ts of tra d itio n ." (79) ^
U ^
Among many, see A lis ta ir Duckworth, The Improvement of the
E s t a t e : A Study o f Jane A usten’s Novels (B a ltim o re and London:
Johns Hopkins P re s s , 1971), p. 55; Duckworth a rg u e s t h a t w ith
Lovers* Vows and th e t h e a t r i c a l s , "a whole c u l t u r a l o r i e n t a t i o n
comes under c o l l e c t i v e a t t a c k . In t r y i n g to tu r n th e M an sfield
house in t o a t h e a t e r , th e C raw fords, from o u t s i d e , and the
Bertrams, from w ithin, attem pt to replace a sta b le world, in which
the s e lf r e la te s to a p re -e x istin g order, with a world of process,
in which the s e l f extemporizes and d ire cts"; G ilb ert and Gubar, pp.
166-67; and H e n r ie tta Ten H arm sel, Jane Austen: A Study in
F ic tio n a l Conventions (The Hague: Mouton & Co., 1964), p. 102.
^Ruth Bernard Y e a z e ll, "The B oundaries o f M an sfield P a r k ,"
Representations 7 (Summer 1984): 136.
^Jan S. Fergus, "Sex and Social Life in Jane Austen's Novels,"
Jane Austen in a Social Context, ed. David Monaghan (Totowa, N.J.:
Barnes & Noble, 1981), p. 78.
111
^David Monaghan, Jane Austen; S tructure and Social Vision
(London: Macmillan Press, 1980), p. 2.
8I b id ., p. 7.
^Douglas Bush, Jane Austen (New York: Macmillan Press, 1975),
p. 135.
10I b id ., p. 119.
11
Avrom Fleishman, A Reading of "Mansfield Park": An Essay in
C r itic a l Synthesis (M inneapolis, Minn.: U n iv e r s ity o f M innesota
P re s s , 1967), p. 54.
^ G i l b e r t and Gubar, p. 167.
Jane McDonnell, ’”A L i t t l e S p ir it of Independence’: Sexual
P o litic s and the Bildungsroman in Mansfield Park," Novel: A Forum
on F iction 17 (Spring 1984): 208-09.
l4I b id ., p. 210.
15I b id ., p. 208-09.
18Susan Morgan, In the Meantime: Character and Perception in
Jane Austen’s F iction (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980),
p. 161.
^Fleishm an, p. 49.
^^McDonnell, p. 212; and Yeazell, p. 149.
^ F e rg u s, p. 74.
20
S t u a r t M . Tave, Some Words o f Jane Austen (Chicago:
U n iv e r s ity o f Chicago P r e s s , 1973), pp. 163-65; and Morgan, pp.
137-45, 156-57.
112
Chapter 2
Sympathy and the Self
How can a fifty -tw o -y e a r-o ld white immigrant storekeeper . . . see
a l i t t l e black g i r l ?
—Toni Morrison
The Bluest Eye
In C hapter 1 I d is c u s s e d how Austen c o l l a p s e s th e dom inant
dualisms about love and what s o rt of people are worthy of women’s
a ffe c tio n . But Austen's novels do more than invent a new re la tio n
between women and others. They also explore new p o s s i b i l i t ie s for
th e r e l a t i o n o f women to o u r s e lv e s . They o v e r tu rn th e sta n d a rd
oppositions about what women can be, e sta b lish in g a new r e la tio n of
reader to female protagonist. By creating a new n a rra tiv e a ttitu d e
to her c e n tra l ch aracter, always a woman, Austen’s fic tio n extends
the so rt of r e la tio n a ctu al women can have to ourselves.
One r e a s o n r e a d e r s h av e b een s lo w t o s e e A u s te n ’s
progressiveness is th a t they have m isinterpreted the energy of her
work and invention as something negative. This e rro r comes p a rtly
113
from a f a m i l i a r u n w illin g n e s s in our c u l t u r e to tak e women,
including women w rite rs , seriously. I t is as i f readers deny the
p o s s ib ility of power in Austen's works, but are forced to recognize
t h a t som ething im p o rta n t i s being e f f e c t e d , which th ey l a b e l as
e ith e r vicious or in tim id atin g . Hence Monaghan a s s e r ts about Sense
and S e n s i b i l i t y t h a t "Were i t not t h a t E lin o r in tr o d u c e s some
method in to her dealings, Mrs. Dashwood would be g u ilty of damaging
the fab ric of English society, and thus deserves to su ffe r the lash
1
of Jane Austen's tongue," a w ittic ism which evinces considerable
h o s ti l i t y . He says th is of,
t i l l a l l these a lte r a tio n s could be made from the savings
of an income of five hundred a-year by a woman who never
saved in her l i f e , they were wise enough to be contented
with the house as i t was. (29-30)
But where Monaghan deduces e ith e r the damage or the lash is hard to
see. Even Norman Page, an o th e r w is e h e l p f u l c r i t i c , p r e s e n ts an
Austen daunting ra th e r than sympathetic. For him Austen
c e a s e l e s s l y c a l l s i n t o q u e s tio n our own b e h a v io r and
self-aw areness: the six sh o rt novels . . . require us to
e x a m in e w i t h r i g o u r and u r g e n c y o u r c o n d u c t and
c o n v e r s a t i o n , a n d , a s we l i v e o u r l i v e s , to a s k
o u r s e lv e s , n o t w ith o u t f re q u e n t d is c o m f o r t, what Jane
Austen would have f e l t h e rse lf impelled to say about us.2
Responses to th e mind and atm o sp h ere we e n c o u n te r in th e n o v e ls
range from the d i s t i n c t misogyny of Harold Nicholson's comparison
of Austen's imagination to a "very sm all, sharp p a ir of s c i z z o r s , " ^
to B u t l e r 's more t r a d i t i o n a l c h a ra c te riz a tio n of Austen's a b i l i t y
a s "she skew ers a m oral s o le c is m as c o n f id e n tly as a v e rb a l
i n f e l i c i t y , " ^ t h r o u g h Y e a z e l l 's r e c e n t c o n c l u s i o n t h a t
114
Mansfield Park teaches "Housekeeping L essons," and t h a t in Austen
" c o n sc io u sn e ss m a in ta in s i t s own p u r i t y by s h u t t i n g th in g s out."
Yeazell argues th a t when Fanny Price t r i e s not to dream of Edmund
lo v in g h e r, she i s o v e rly concerned w ith m ental t i d i n e s s : "the
a l e r t mental housekeeper has n o n e th e le s s q u ic k ly s p o tte d i t [th e
th o u g h t] and rushed to remove i t ." ^ S u re ly we can fin d b e t t e r
te rm s f o r a woman tr y i n g no t to love a p erso n who does n o t love
her.
C ritic s often portray Austen as balancing between a ttitu d e s of
humor and c y n ic ism , or som ething p o l i t e and som ething v i o l e n t .
Yasmine Gooneratne shows the t y p i c a l id e a o f Austen d e l i c a t e l y
t e e t e r i n g on a f in e l i n e : "Jane A usten’s tone i s e x q u i s i t e l y
poised between iro n ic detachment and p ro te st a t the immorality and
i n j u s t i c e o f a c c e p te d s o c i a l v a lu e s." ^ Gooneratne g r a n t s Austen
p r o t e s t though she s t i l l sees h er as c u l t i v a t i n g the iro n y and
d e ta c h m e n t, t h a t d is ta n c e from human c a r e s , o f which Austen i s
often accused. More harshly, Robert Alan Donovan sees in Austen’s
books "the spontaneous eruptions of malice, engendered as much by
impatience with pomposity or decorum as by a deeply considered or
m atured s o c i a l a t t i t u d e . " ^ For Donovan t h i s a t t i t u d e sim p ly
r e f le c ts th a t " i t is as human to take d elig h t in malevolence as in
Q
benevolence."
Recent r e a d e rs have c o n tin u e d t h i s tre n d . Even in 1986
G ilb ert and Gubar continue to quote in a l l seriousness Van Ghent’s
r e d u c tiv e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f A usten's two in c h e s o f iv o ry as "in
115
substance an elephant's tuskj i t i s a savagely probing instrum ent
as well as a masterpiece of refinement."^ Kirkham's assessment of
A usten's fem inism r i s e s on ly to a p i c t u r e o f th e n o v e l i s t as a
"fem inist m o ra lis t," 1®
There i s , in the Austen comedy, a g reat deal of w it, some
sarcasm , and a t r a c e o f m a lig n ity h ere and t h e r e . . .
but there is more sympathetic merriment than sarcasm, and
th e w it i s tem pered by humor. . . . The fem inism i s in
the laughter, sometimes ra th e r harsh laughter, but i t is
also in the visionary i d e a l . 1
Kirkham i s t r y i n g to d e s c r ib e som ething d i f f i c u l t about Austen’s
f ic tio n , but her explanation r e l ie s too heavily on the tr a d itio n a l
view t h a t Austen g iv e s us " w it," "sarcasm ," and even " m a lig n ity ,"
12
along with the usual ren d itio n of a "sharp, iro n ic awareness."
I want to argue t h a t Austen i s no t so d iv id e d . Austen does
n o t o f f e r fro z e n i d e a l s t h a t make human p ro c e s s e s look i n f e r i o r .
Austen i s a v is io n a r y . But what she sees i s n ev er an inhuman
i d e a l . She has a more u n i f i e d v i s i o n th an most r e a d e r s have
acknow ledged. Kirkham makes an im p re s s iv e e f f o r t to d e s c rib e
A usten's in n o v a tio n s as " in g e n u ity in com bining a f e m in i s t
c r i t i c i s m o f l i f e and l i t e r a t u r e w ith a warm hum anity and an
abiding love of the rid ic u lo u s."11* But Kirkham does not show how
th e s e q u a l i t i e s work to g e th e r . Accounts o f A usten's humor a ls o
need to e x p la in how i t f u n c tio n s in r e l a t i o n to o th e r a s p e c ts o f
Austen's f ic tio n , e sp e c ia lly her sympathy for her p ro ta g o n ists.
Kirkham i s r a r e in f in d in g f e m i n i s t a t t i t u d e s in A usten's
novels. The tr a d itio n a l assumption th a t Austen is constrained to
116
defend h e r own c l a s s a g a i n s t change, w h ile wrong, does no t im ply
the so rt of malice im p lic it in the presently fa m ilia r presumption
t h a t she b e t r a y s h e r f e llo w - w o m e n i n h e r a c q u i e s c e n c e t o
p a t r i a r c h a l v a lu e s . This i s the view which i s r e p re s e n te d by
1 5
G i l b e r t and Gubar’s summary o f Austen as " a g g r e s s iv e ly s a n e .”
B u tle r adds t h a t A usten's p l o t s "rebuke i n d i v i d u a l i s t i c fem ale
i n i t i a t i v e s , " 1^ while Jane M iller asks,
Can any woman reading [Austen] fe e l absolutely sure th a t
she i s not hearing a cynical, w itty , even frivolous voice
a d ju r in g a very young woman to . . . f o r g e t her own and
other women's need for tim e, space, privacy, independence
and scope for c r e a t i v i ty ? 1^
Austen i s p ic tu r e d as l e c t u r i n g c o n fo rm ity to the r u l e s o f a
m isogynistic society with a judgmental se v e rity th a t would crush
the se lf-p re se rv a tio n of her s is t e r s . This image makes Austen out
as some s o rt of General Tilney who sile n c e s Eleanor, or S ir Thomas
Bertram who censures in Fanny Price what he sees as "w ilfulness of
te m p e r, s e l f - c o n c e i t , and every tendency to t h a t independence o f
s p i r i t . . . which in young women i s o f f e n s iv e and d is g u s t i n g
beyond a l l common offense." (318) But these are two of Austen's,
to put i t mildly, misguided characters.
Austen's two "Family Heritage" novels, in fa c t, have as th e i r
very s u b je c ts th e n e c e s s i t y and th e d i f f i c u l t y o f women's s e l f -
expression. The woman's voice in the novels which i s "aggressively
sane" is not Austen's, nor is i t her n a rra to r's , or any of her main
c h a r a c t e r s '. The p resen ce who reb u k es fem ale i n i t i a t i v e s and
p re a c h e s s e l f - f o r g e t f u l n e s s , who t r i e s to i n t i m i d a t e women i n t o
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conformity, who betrays her fellow-women for the sake of men, both
individual and aggregate, is Lady Catherine de Bourgh. And Austen
p la c e s h e r in P rid e and Pre.judice in o rd e r to d e m o n stra te th e
damage women do, and what we miss, by not feelin g our kinship with
o th e r women. Another p a i r o f A usten’s n o v e ls , h e r ’’S is te r h o o d ”
books, a re c e n te re d around the very im p o rta n c e and joy o f th e s e
t i e s .
But the commitment by both t r a d i t i o n a l and contem porary
c r i t i c s to p r e s e n tin g Austen a s a s o c i a l c o n s e r v a tiv e c o n tin u e s
very strong. The r e s u lt is odd c r itic is m . The dubious tr a d itio n
t h a t Austen w ro te on ly o f what she p e r s o n a lly knew ab o u t s l i d e s
in to the s t i l l more dubious presumption th a t whatever she pictured,
she must be. To G i l b e r t and Gubar, ’’Mrs. C h u r c h ill r e p r e s e n t s
1 ft
Austen's g u i l t a t her own a u th o ria l c o n tro l.” 10 So does the female
character who arguably causes the most harm in the novels: "Aunt
N o rris i s a p a ro d ic s u r r o g a te fo r th e a u th o r , a s u i t a b l e double
1 Q
whose m a n ip u la tio n s match th o se o f Aunt Jane." And M argaret
Drabble asks "Did she, lik e Emma, find i t d i f f i c u l t to control her
sharp tongue in public, and did she find pleasure in expressing her
PO
worst thoughts through other characters?" Drabble's question and
i n a b ility to answer i t , her feelin g th a t i t r e s ts in the unknowable
mystery of dark depths which may l i e behind the novels is becoming
a new trend. Drabble puts i t th is way: we must ask "the question
o f what Jane A usten's t r u e tone was, and w h eth er she was denying
118
h e r s e l f in c u t t i n g ou t th e freedom , m a lic e and c o a rse n e s s
represented in Lady Susan."21
For q u ite a few r e a d e r s A usten's p o sitio n is undiscoverable.
Recent fe m in ists also see m ystery in A usten's p o l i t i c a l o p in io n s
about women. Lovell claim s th a t " It is not easy to determine how
much th e n o v els o f Jane Austen owe to any s p e c i f i c a l l y fem ale
pp
consciousness." Moers asks a d iff e r e n t question but provides the
same answer, "is she w ith Emma here or ag ain st her, as her heroine
ta k e s the p a t e r n a l i s t i c view o f the s p i n s t e r d a u g h te r's doom?
Im p o ssib le to k n o w . " 2 ^ To Moers,
our c u r i o u s i t y i s a l l ab o u t A usten's tem per and mind.
When did she laugh, and when grow serious? What did she
hold as a m o r a l i s t ? Where did she sta n d --w e want the
answ er in an a lm o s t p h y s ic a l s e n s e - - i n r e l a t i o n to h er
characters? I t is very d i f f i c u l t to know.
Karen Newman re c re a te s th i s answer in her response to the m arxist
Feminist L ite ra tu re C o llectiv e’s view th a t Austen's novels have "a
s u b v e rs iv e d im ension o f which she h e r s e l f was unaware." Newman
"would q u a r r e l w ith t h i s s ta te m e n t only in i t s a s s e r t i o n t h a t
Austen was unaware of the subversive dimension o f her novels, for
how can we know?"2^
Well, I think we can know, a t le a s t about the a ttitu d e s w ithin
the novels i f not a c tu a lly w ithin t h e i r author's mind. I turn now‘
to the n o v e ls and t h e i r main c h a r a c t e r s to see how u n d e rsta n d in g
th e f e m i n i s t p o l i t i c s o f A usten's books can r e v e a l as f a l s e th e
view th a t Austen's novels are conservative. More c e n tra lly , i t can
119
also release us from th a t to o -fa m ilia r p erplexity about not ju s t
what women want, but what they, we, can be supposed to be.
Not only have the characters themselves been underestimated by
most r e a d e r s , but t h e i r a u th o r 's d e s c r i p t i o n s o f them have been
t w i s t e d . A usten's comments about h er n o v e ls and s u b je c ts do n o t
p i n p o i n t p r o b le m s w i t h th em . They c e l e b r a t e i n s t e a d th e
o r i g i n a l i t y she was very c o n sc io u s o f in v e n tin g . We must
r e i n t e r p r e t A usten's rem arks about both h e r p r o ta g o n is t s and h er
f ic tio n s without in te rp re tin g anything which sounds lik e modesty as
s e r i o u s s e l f - d e p r e c a t i o n . Morgan i s r i g h t t h a t A usten's ''own
r e f e r e n c e to 'th e l i t t l e b i t (two in c h e s wide) o f Iv o ry ' can only
be c a l l e d u n f o r tu n a te in the l i g h t o f the c r i t i c a l w eig h t g iv en
th a t suspiciously humble remark."^0 Austen's own ch aracteriza tio n s
o f h e r work do not amount to a s s e r t i o n s o f e i t h e r i t s or h er own
l i m i t s . They show h e r aw aren ess o f having c r e a te d new s o r t s o f
f i c t i o n and f i c t i o n a l c h a r a c t e r s , and h e r moving acknowledgm ent
th a t what i s new may not be read ily recognized by most readers. As
Donald Greene has shown, h e r lau g h in g d e c l a r a t i o n t h a t h e r work
produces " l i t t l e e f f e c t a f t e r much la b o u r" i s a joke about th e
d ifference between tr a d itio n a l, bombastic fic tio n lik e her nephew
Edward's f l e d g l i n g n o v e l ^ and h e r own; but i t a l s o r e f e r s to how
her revolutions of n o v e listic subject and p lo t w ill look " l i t t l e "
and seem to have " l i t t l e e ffe c t" to readers used to old forms. In
t h i s l i g h t we must r e - i n t e r p r e t what Austen s a id o f h e r main
characters: of Elizabeth Bennet, "I must confess th a t I think her
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a s d e l i g h t f u l a c h a r a c t e r as ev er ap p eared in p r i n t , and how I
s h a l l be a b le to t o l e r a t e th o se who do no t l i k e her a t l e a s t I do
n o t know"; (L 297) o f Emma Woodhouse, quoted by h er nephew, "a
P ft
h e ro in e whom no one bu t m y self w i l l much l i k e " ; ^ 0 and o f Anne
E l l i o t , "You may perhaps l i k e th e H eroine, as she i s a lm o st too
good for me." (L 487) These are the words of an a r t i s t aware th at
sh e h a s done new t h i n g s , who knows t h a t n e w n e s s i s n o t
au tom atically beloved.
Austen’s pride th a t Elizabeth Bennet is so very "d elig h tfu l,"
shows, I think, a consciousness of having created a new embodiment
o f e v e r y t h i n g h u m an ly a d m i r a b l e and i n t e r e s t i n g , f a r more
f a s c i n a t i n g th a n th e paragons which C a th e rin e Morland t r i e s to
mimic and so g lo rio u sly undermines. With her d escription of Emma
Woodhouse, I hear Austen’s recognition th a t people in a p atriarchy
are trained to accept very l i t t l e im perfection in a woman, and th at
her readers may w ell be unsympathetic to Emma because she w i l l not
f i t the formulaic notion of the id eal woman. In reading the remark
about Anne E lio t, I think we need to remember th a t i t was w ritte n
to Fanny Knight a t a tim e in which Austen was u n w e ll, f e e l i n g , as
she s a id t h a t ev en in g , "lan g u id & d u l l & v ery bad company when I
w rote th e above." But h e r comment a ls o g e s tu r e s tow ard t h e i r
d iff e r e n t ta s te s in protagonists. "Pictures of perfection as you
know make me sick & wicked," (L 486-87) is our proof th a t they have
discussed t h i s issue before. Knight's ta s te was always more to the
p e r f e c t than A usten 's. I b e lie v e t h a t the "alm o st too good" i s
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A usten's p r id e in th e f a c t t h a t she has been a b le to make Anne
E llio t in te re s tin g and good a t the same time. Austen's rendering
o f h e r f i r s t p r o t a g o n i s t , C a th e rin e M orland, s e l f - c o n s c i o u s l y
e sta b lish e s a new kind of story. This is surely the comic point of
her reply to James Stanier Clarke th a t she is unqualified to w rite
about the c le rg y because "I th in k I may b o a st m y self to be, w ith
a l l possible vanity, the most unlearned and uninformed female who
ev er dared to be an a u th o r e s s .” (L 443) In a l a t e r l e t t e r Austen
adds th a t she knows th a t "a serio u s romance” "might be much to the
purpose of p r o f i t or popularity than" the new visions of women she
c r e a t e s which she t a c t f u l l y c a l l s " p i c t u r e s o f d o m e stic l i f e in
country v illag es." (L 452) But she proclaims, "No, I must keep to
my own s ty le and go on in my own way." (L 453)
Beginning w ith C a th e rin e M orland, Austen c r e a t e s a new
r e la tio n between n a rra to r and female p rotagonist, reader and women.
While C a th e rin e has been u n d e re s tim a te d by c r i t i c s , c a l l e d "so
l i g h t w e i g h t a m i n d ," 2 ^ " t h a t s t u p i d g o o se o f a C a t h e r i n e
M orland,"3° and h er novel l a b e l l e d " p a r o d ic ," ^ 1 h e r n a r r a t o r
d e l i g h t s i n h e r c r e a t i o n , r e j o i c i n g i n w h at m akes h e r
"extraordinary," and "a strange, unaccountable character." (NA 14)
P a r t of th e humor and m y ste rio u s meaning o f N orthanger Abbey i s
t h a t C a th e rin e i s so u n h e ro ic and y e t i s th e h e ro in e of a n ovel.
Yet th e p o in t i s alw ays t h a t w h ile C a th e rin e i s a s tr a n g e c e n te r
f o r a n o v e l, h e r being e n t i r e l y u s u a l i s w o n d e rfu lly u s u a l, not
strange, outside of novels. Austen i s c a llin g in to question how we
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judge fem ale f i g u r e s a c c o rd in g to i d e a l s , and how l i t t l e th e s e
id e a ls inform us about human women.
The problem with a myth of id eal womanhood, is how l i t t l e any
woman could meet i t . Even the most sublime heroines do not always
qualify. W e need only think of a l l the c r i t i c a l controversy over
w h eth er C l a r i s s a Harlowe i s flaw ed in some way t h a t le a d s to h e r
downfall. Austen approaches the problem in various ways. One is
to show how th e norm al c a n t ab o u t women i n s i s t s t h a t b e a u t i f u l
women are everywhere—th is is why Mr. Bingley marvels a t how a l l
women are b e a u tifu l and accomplished, th a t every one is introduced
as being so, and why the n a rra to r says of Marianne Dashwood, th a t
"when in th e common c a n t o f p r a i s e , she was c a l l e d a b e a u t i f u l
g i r l , tru th was less v io le n tly outraged than usually happens." (SS
46)
The next p i t f a l l for re a l women is the fa ilu re of observers to
grant women heroic s ta tu s even when they deserve i t . The reader is
shown Mr. Darcy’s early prejudice ag ain st women. I f Mr. Bingley is
open to the kinds of adm iration of heroines th a t the cu lture pain ts
so l a v i s h l y , Mr. Darcy i s more l i k e the r e s t o f us. He lo oks only
to c r i t i c i z e , and se e s n o th in g l i k e what f i c t i o n s p o r tr a y . Jane
Bennet is diminished to the human and inadequate in his view, "Miss
Bennet he acknowledged to be p re tty , but she smiled too much." (PP
16) P ictures o f p erfection do not have large liv e s. They have the
cliched experiences which are the only d ic ta th a t the cu ltu re could
j u s t i f y f o r women. But th e a l t e r n a t i v e , a s Mr. Darcy’s i n i t i a l
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re sp o n s e s s u g g e s t, i s not m erely to see women as l i m i t e d and
d efectiv e.
In Middlemarch, George E lio t’s Dorothea Brooke w ill la t e r feel
g u i l t y t h a t she has n o t been a b le to lead an a e s t h e t i c a l l y
b e a u t i f u l l i f e , t h a t she has made m ista k e s in s p i t e o f h e r good
i n t e n t i o n s . Austen d efen d s our r i g h t no t to le a d a e s t h e t i c a l l y
p e rfe c t liv e s , and defends a d iffe re n t standard whereby women need
no lo n g e r be v i c t i m i z e d by s ta n d a rd s too s m a ll fo r us to ev er
squeeze ourselves f l a t enough to f i t . Austen is in te re ste d in the
largeness th a t we can also believe might happen in our liv e s. Many
r e a d e r s have condemned as t r i v i a l th e everyday e v e n ts of the
n o v e ls. However, A usten's a r t means t h a t we need no lo n g e r be
in te re ste d only in what w ill never happen to us, but be entertained
by what we believe might happen to ourselves and our neighbors as
w ell.
Austen i s c r e a t i n g f e m i n i s t v i s i o n s w ith h er p r o t a g o n i s t s ,
c r e a t i o n s which may l i b e r a t e us from c o n v e n tio n a l, p a t r i a r c h a l
e x p e c ta tio n s f o r our l i v e s . I use the term " p r o t a g o n i s t ” f o r
Austen's leading ch aracters because the convention of the "heroine"
i s what Austen so d i s t i n c t i v e l y r e - th in k s . Catherine Morland is
n o t what we would e x p e c t but she i s th e r e j u s t th e same, and, we
a re supposed to sym pathize w ith h er even more f o r a l l h e r
in d iv id u a lity instead of uniform ity. But Northanger Abbey, and a l l
f iv e n o v els which fo llo w , show the d e s t r u c t i v e n e s s o f th e f ix e d ,
im p o s s ib ly demanding s ta n d a rd s f o r women t h a t th e t r a d i t i o n a l
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figure of the heroine represents and rein fo rces. Actual women are
made to f e e l in a d e q u a te , and u n d e se rv in g o f what the c u l t u r e
b esto w s. Men, and a l l p eo p le, a re encouraged to judge women
against these standards. Perhaps we see the damage caused by such
standards in C harlotte Luca’s s e l f - d e s t r u c t i v e c h o ic e s . Because
she does n o t f u l f i l l the c r i t e r i a o f a h e r o in e , she makes an
’’u n h e r o ic ," or what she c a l l s a ’’n o t r o m a n tic ” c h o ic e . C h a r lo tte
a c c e p ts i n s t i t u t i o n a l i z e d f i c t i o n s : th e s p e c tr e o f ’’old m aid”
seems re a l and in tim id a te s her. Maria Bertram does something quite
s im ila r with her ’’self-revenge.” (MP 202) T raditional p ic tu re s of
h e ro in e s do no t te a c h t h a t a woman’s in d ep en d en t l i f e i s e i t h e r
v a lu a b le or b e a u t i f u l . But A usten’s a r t a v o id s making women
readers fe e l sick and wicked.
I do no t use the term ’’h e r o in e ” f o r A usten’s main c h a r a c t e r s
because th ey b r i l l i a n t l y underm ine what h e r o in e s a r e — fix e d
c h a r a c te r is tic s which never a l t e r , which no human woman can m irror.
Also, I do n o t use th e term "h ero ” f o r A usten's le a d in g men,
because t h a t term c o n fu se s us betw een male p r o ta g o n is t and male
love i n t e r e s t , and u n ju stly im plies th a t the male love in t e r e s t is
as im p o rta n t a f ig u r e as th e fem ale le a d . Many r e a d e r s have
tre a te d them so, but I think we need to see them as embodying only
one form o f love which Austen o f f e r s h e r p r o t a g o n i s t s , though i t
may be the c e n tra l one.
But even though A usten’s n o v e ls have e x p l i c i t l y t r i e d to
r e l e a s e r e a d e r s from ju d g in g women and fem ale p r o t a g o n i s t s by
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heroic standards, c r i t i c s have c o n siste n tly done ju s t the opposite.
A good deal of the entertainm ent th a t Northanger Abbey o ffe rs is to
elim in ate the assumption th a t any tru ly in te re s tin g woman w ill be
i n s t a n t l y valued by a l l h e r a c q u a in ta n c e ; t h a t when she e n t e r s a
room, a "whisper of eager inquiry [w ill run] round the room"; (23)
and th a t a measure of a woman’s worth l i e s in s p e c ific a lly how many
men a re in love w ith h e r. Many r e a d e r s judge A usten's lead
c h a r a c t e r s by p r e c i s e l y the s ta n d a rd s h er n o v e ls r e l e g a t e to a
tr a d itio n a l past. Of Mansfield Park Butler says th a t "From being a
b y s ta n d e r, Fanny becomes the a c t i v e h e ro in e . Henry tu r n s h is
a tte n tio n from the Bertram s i s t e r s to her."^2 For McDonnell "Henry
Crawford . . . begins r a p id ly to f a l l in love w ith h e r — a t t h i s
p o in t Fanny h e r s e l f becomes th e h e ro in e o f an e r o t i c t e x t ." And
Monaghan adds, " It is only when Fanny begins to involve h e rs e lf in
th e w orld by a t t e n d i n g d in n e rs and b a l l s and when she a c q u ir e s a
l i t t l e charm t h a t she i s a b le to make h er p re se n c e f e l t . "3** To
Monaghan the r e s u lt i s th a t "Henry Crawford i s so a ttra c te d by th i s
new Fanny Price th a t he f a l l s in love with her." What such a view
ig n o re s i s how i n t e r e s t i n g Austen th o u g h t th e f i r s t t h i r d o f
Mansfield Park, and the fa c t th a t when she wrote about her brother
Henry's re a d in g th e n o v e l, she rem arked, "I am a f r a i d he has gone
through the most en te rta in in g p art," though, "He has only married
Mrs. R." (L 376)
Such r e a d e rs focus only on how Fanny P ric e i s seen from the
o u ts id e . This i s Lady B e rtra m 's p e r s p e c t i v e . Someone f a l l s in
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love w ith Fanny, t h e r e f o r e she i s a t t r a c t i v e . As Mary Crawford
s a y s, Fanny i s e x a c tly what she was b e fo re . That does not mean
th a t Mary understands h er—we have only to remember the episode of
th e n e ck lace to know t h a t . Yet Fanny i s no t e s s e n t i a l l y changed,
or not a t le a s t, in any way th a t Henry Crawford can perceive. She
i s changing a l l the tim e as h er e x p e rie n c e changes, but as a
v a lu a b le p e rso n , she i s s t i l l th e same as she was when so ig n o red
by Mr. Crawford in the f a l l . The i m p l i c a t i o n o f Monaghan’s
an aly sis i s th a t Fanny learned to do something b e tte r which a lte re d
h er fo r the b e t t e r and th u s a t t r a c t e d Henry’s n o t i c e . That is
e x a c tly backw ards. The fla w in Henry’s o u tlo o k i s t h a t he th in k s
she changed, and th a t he believes his approbation w ill deservedly
transform o thers' a ttitu d e s to her. There is no excuse for readers
to make the same m ista k e . We who see t h e i r n o v e ls through the
p r o t a g o n i s t s ' eyes and know how i n t e r e s t i n g t h e i r e x p e rie n c e i s ,
should know th a t there is no a c q u isitio n of i n t e r e s t or change ju st
because a man thinks he discovers them.
A usten's books p i c t u r e how a woman f e e l s u g ly , awkward, and
undesirable, when ignored by o th ers—e sp e c ia lly when everyone else
is p airing off; and how everyone suddenly thinks her b eau tifu l and
d esirab le when an "important" man cares for her. This is how Lady
Bertram operates; finding th a t Henry Crawford wants to marry her
n e ic e , she d e c id e s " t h a t Fanny was p r e t t y , which she had been
doubting about before." (MP 332) Mary Crawford’s friend w ill want
to know ab o u t Fanny's ey e s, t e e t h , h a i r , and who makes h er shoes.
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(360-61) Many o f A usten's r e a d e r s have r e a c te d to Fanny th e same
way. But the p o in t is t h a t Fanny was alw ays th e p r o ta g o n is t o f,
n o t an e r o t i c t e x t , but th e kind o f t e x t Austen o f f e r s in s t e a d .
Popularity co n tests, lik e beauty pageants, are how the patriarchy
discovers the importance of women. That i s why conservative women
lik e Mary Crawford, Maria and J u lia Bertram so often see themselves
in c o m p e titio n w ith o th e r women ( " l i v e l y dark eye, c l e a r brown
com plexion, and g e n e r a l p r e t t i n e s s " as opposed to " t a l l , f u l l
form ed, and f a i r . " ) (44) What Austen th in k s we need to see i s
th a t women are im portant whether or not observers around them takes
them serio u sly , because they so often do not.
By t r e a t i n g A usten's p r o t a g o n i s t s as c o n v e n tio n a l h e r o in e s ,
tra d itio n a l readings give p r io r ity to the male ch aracters' view of
the women, instead of the more complex p icture the novels draw of
what more they are. Thus an overwhelming m ajority of c r i t i c s has
thought Charlotte Lucas is rig h t to marry Mr. C ollins—they can so
l i t t l e imagine how in te re s tin g a woman's l i f e may be a p art from her
re la tio n to men. They seem to see women as in nately so diminished
t h a t th ey do n o t n o t i c e o r c a re ab o u t th e g r e a t d im in ish m e n t
Charlotte su ffe rs when married to Mr. Collins. Austen shows th a t a
woman who i s s in g le l i k e Anne E l l i o t can b e t t e r r e s i s t th e
c u ltu re 's e f f o r ts to squeeze her into unimportance than a woman who
i s seen a s someone e l s e 's , a man's, spouse. She may have been
ig n o re d b e fo re , even s c o ffe d a t , but i s never as i n v i s i b l e as she
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becomes when she has a husband whom she d i s l i k e s , who i n s i s t s on
speaking fo r her.
Almost a l l of Austen's protagonists are slig h ted in some way
by men, and p a r t o f what th e s e n o v e ls a re ab o u t i s how th e s e
s l i g h t s do n o t a f f e c t the r e a d e r 's sen se o f the p r o t a g o n i s t s '
separate worth. Should Catherine Morland seem unlovable when she
i s ignored by F r e d e ric k T iln e y , or E lin o r Dashwood by John
Willoughby, Elizabeth Bennet by F itzw illiam Darcy, Fanny Price by
Henry Craw ford, o r Anne E l l i o t by F re d e ric k W entworth? Readers
should no t l i m i t th e m se lv e s to what Fanny P r ic e so p e r c e p t i v e l y
c a l l s "an unworthy a tta c h m e n t! To be d e r iv in g su p p o rt from the
com m endations o f Mrs. F ra se r! She who had known him i n t i m a t e l y
h a l f a year! Fanny was ashamed o f h er." (416-17) We, who have
known th e s e p r o t a g o n i s t s i n t i m a t e l y f o r much lo n g e r th an h a l f a
year, should not be deriving support from the commendations of such
u n in te re stin g people as Henry Crawford, or Mr. E llio t.
The n o v e ls e x p l i c i t l y draw a t t e n t i o n to th e im p o rtan ce of
th e ir c e n tra l fig u res reg ard less of whether these women are seen as
im p o rta n t by men, or w hether o th e r women see them as im p o rta n t
because men do. The men are so often inadequate and d u ll lik e John
Willoughby, George Wickham, P hilip Elton, or an g rily try in g to be
d u l l and "h e ro ic " l i k e F r e d e ric k W entworth. The women who judge
other women by men's adm iration are so often as unthinking as Lady
B ertram or as t r i t e a s Lydia Bennet, as s e l f - a g g r a n d i z i n g as
Augusta E lto n , or as h o s t i l e as E liz a b e th E l l i o t . Nothing goes
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more to th e h e a r t o f how women a re t r e a t e d in a p a t r i a r c h a l
c ulture. Austen's f ic tio n s look s tr a ig h t a t the indifference which
amounts to h o s t i l i t y towards women. Her conclusion is hardly th a t
we must please the culture or we are lo s t. Instead she shows th at
we w i l l never be g lo rifie d by un iv ersal adm iration in to "heroines"
o r, s t i l l l e s s , "heroes." But we can s t i l l re c o g n iz e our own
importance. W e can s t i l l be loved, and we can s t i l l love.
Sense and S e n s ib ility and Mansfield Park, which I am c a llin g
the Family Heritage novels, are e x p lic itly concerned with how women
are ignored in our p a tria rc h a l c u ltu re . Elinor Dashwood is ignored
through the issue of the Dashwood and Norland inh eritan ce, and by
how o b liv io u s h er fa m ily i s to h er d i s t r e s s e s . Fanny P ric e is
ignored because everyone else thinks she is more "dependent" than
they; the mistake made by these other ch aracters is th a t they think
they are independent. They e r r as Emma w i l l e rr; they believe th a t
t h e i r p la c e as s u p e r io r b ein g s in t h i s c u l t u r e has a d i r e c t
c o rre la tio n to what valuable people they a r e —and how i n t r i n s i c a l l y
important. Austen shows th a t ex ternal valuation is not attached to
how wonderful a person is ; i t i s alm ost random accident which gives
to women the a t t e n t i o n th ey d e se rv e . I t may be t h e i r "due," but
Austen shows how often women receive i n f i n i t e l y le ss than they are
"due."
The Crawfords judge Fanny Price by ex tern als and think she is
u n im p o rta n t because she i s poor and she i s "not out." Yet
Mansfield Park's point is th a t Fanny is sp ecial, not in her special
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v irtu e , but because she i s a d iffe re n t person from any of the r e s t
o f us. Austen makes us laugh about t h i s in P e rsu a s io n when she
p i c t u r e s how Anne E l l i o t i s " sa v e d a s we a l l a r e by some
comfortable feeling of su p e rio rity from wishing for the p o s s ib ility
of exchange" with H enrietta and Louisa Musgrove, for "she would not
have given up her own more e le g a n t and c u l t i v a t e d mind f o r a l l
th e ir enjoyments." (41) Now, there is no person more e n title d by
in te llig e n c e and depth of feelin g to p refer her own mind to others'
than Anne E llio t. What can continue to amaze about th is moment is
how Austen makes t h a t f e e l i n g o f s u p e r i o r i t y i n t o a u n i v e r s a l
feelin g we a l l ch erish —even characters lik e the Musgroves.
None of can see in s id e o t h e r s ' im a g in a tio n s to d is c o v e r how
r i c h t h e i r l i v e s a r e . And we a l l p r e f e r our own minds and
im a g in a tio n s , fa n c y in g them s u p e r i o r to many o t h e r s '. I t is
w o n d erfu l t h a t Austen chooses to make t h i s r e f l e c t i o n , one t h a t
a lm o st u n d e rc u ts the ways in which we b e lie v e t h a t Anne i s f a r
s u p e r io r to th e M usgroves, a m a tte r o f u n i v e r s a l e x p e rie n c e . I f
even Anne E llio t's having a more developed imagination is open to
m irth a s th e s o r t o f f e e l i n g we a l l have, th en we t r u l y l i v e in a
world where m erit is hard to see. Part of the beauty of Persuasion
i s t h a t Anne's s u p e r i o r i t y i s n ev er e x p ressed in w ith d ra w a l or
a t t e m p t s to dom inate. In s te a d we see i t through h e r d e lic a c y of
perception, her continued e f f o r ts to help in everyone e lse 's liv e s,
and g e n t l e r e s i g n a t i o n to being heard on eq u al te rm s w ith only
s e v e r a l p e o p le . But s e v e r a l t u r n s out to be q u i t e a few: Mrs.
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S m ith, Lady R u s s e ll, C aptain W entworth, and we im a g in e , Sophia
Croft. There needs to be no eq u ality of understnding to endear the
a f f e c t i o n which Anne w i l l enjoy w ith Admiral C ro ft and th e
H arv illes.
Anne is a new image for women, one in which we do not have to
se c u re M arianne's i d e a l o f i n s t a n t and e q u a l, i .e . , s u p e r i o r ,
u n d e rsta n d in g on a l l t o p i c s and in a l l a r e a s to be happy. We can
fe e l in te re s tin g and not wish for a change even when our Frederick
Wentworths pay a tte n tio n to women lik e the Musgroves instead of to
us. Austen p r e s e n ts i t w ith humor, but r e a d e r s need to tak e i t
seriously. Women can feel worthy, and even d esira b le , without the
v a l i d a t i o n o f male a t t e n t i o n . A usten's p o in t in h e r "ugly
d u ck lin g " ph ases in h e r n o v e ls, C a th e rin e M orland's b e g in n in g ,
E lin o r Dashwood ig n o re d by John W illoughby and C olonel Brandon,
E liz a b e th Bennet i n s u l t e d by Mr. Darcy and abandoned by Mr.
Wickham, Fanny P r ic e overlo o k ed by a lm o st everyone, and Anne
E llio t's s im ila r lack of what we might c a ll "erotic respect" from
other ch aracters, is th a t these women characters are im portant and
in te re s tin g independently of the way they are in v is ib le to other,
perhaps le ss in te re s tin g , characters.
How f a s c i n a t i n g women a re considered has tr a d itio n a lly been
t i e d to how e r o t i c we a r e p e rc e iv e d to be. Austen arg u e s a g a i n s t
th a t. But eros is also a joy, and feelin g e r o tic — feelin g lovable,
including sexually lovable—is an ex citin g and a good feeling. Her
n o v e ls do no t ta k e th e sex out o f our c o n c e p tio n s o f women, but
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in s t e a d broaden our d e f i n i t i o n s o f i t . Fanny P ric e i s n o t sexy
because a c u r l wanders a c ro s s h e r forehead and she has to keep
shaking i t back, a s i f Fanny i s so h e l p l e s s t h a t she cannot even
conquer a strand of h air. Fanny w ill become sexy to Edmund because
he ad m ire s what s o r t o f p erso n she i s , because she grows d ear to
him in ways he had not noticed before—th a t is how he w ill learn to
ad m ire m ild l i g h t eyes. S e x u a lity becomes a n a t u r a l r e s u l t o f
te n d e r ly c a rin g about someone e l s e , and women r e a d e rs may
consequently grow more confident in our own deservingness of love
and sexual feelin g s as we id e n tify with these women protagonists
who do n o t e a rn a t t e n t i o n by " a tte n d in g d in n e r s ," or u sin g th e
Gowlands lo tio n S ir Walter recommends to Anne, but simply by liv in g
on, and being in te re ste d in th a t process.
Even when we are as uniquely i n t e l l i g e n t as Anne E llio t, s t i l l
our n o t w anting to exchange s e lv e s w ith h a p p ie r people i s to be
u n d ersto o d as a f e e l i n g everyone has. Fanny P r ic e 's f e e l i n g s o f
being l e f t out make her fe e l unloved and unworthy, but they never
make her wish she had been born someone else , although she may fe e l
so superfluous th a t she seems to verge on a feelin g of wishing she
had never been born. But r e a d e r s have o f te n wished the lead
c h a r a c t e r o f h e r novel had been someone e l s e , have wanted
esp ecially to exchange Fanny Price for Mary Crawford, ju s t as they
have perversely longed for an opposite switch: for Jane Fairfax,
in s te a d o f Emma as th e c e n t r a l c h a r a c t e r o f a novel c a l l e d Jane.
To y earn f o r such i m b e c i l i t i e s i s to demand th e c o n v e n tio n a l
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instead of the new, to miss the point of Austen's innovation in her
c o n c e p tio n of a p r o t a g o n is t - - f r o m the f l a t e n v i a b i l i t y o f th e
s ta n d a rd i d e a l h e ro in e to th e i n t e r e s t o f A usten's s p e c i a l and
o rig in a l women leads.
Austen's novels are extraordinary because they locate as much
i n t e r e s t in th e tim e s when women a r e ig n o re d by men, and as much
m irth in those times when they are gasped over by men, as when not.
When Catherine Morland sends no one in to e c s ta tic adm iration, is
c a l l e d a d i v i n i t y by nobody, (NA 23) and is shoved around by "a
mob," (20) I th in k we a r e meant to have a w o nderful tim e . We
sympathize quite a b i t with Catherine, we remember times lik e i t we
have s u f f e r e d th ro u g h , and we love th e method by which an
unrepentant n a rra to r g lo rie s in her own ingenuity fo r creatin g such
a scene which so b la s ts our expectations of what MUST happen to a
fem ale le a d in g c h a r a c t e r . We l i k e w i s e laugh about th e awkward
a t t e n t i o n s o f Mr. C o llin s and Mr. E lto n to E liz a b e th Bennet and
Emma Woodhouse. Readers are meant to enjoy these sectio n s, and our
pleasure is but clum sily represented by such terms as "parody" or
"satire." Austen is not liv in g in reaction to the f ic tio n s of the
p a s t , in a "house o f f i c t i o n n o t o f h e r own m aking."35 She i s
creating new forms for women leads.
I t is also a worthy e n te rp rise to fe e l sorry fo r Anne E llio t,
to fe e l an id e n tity w ith her tim es of lowness, with her sorrowful
comparison of other people "glowing and bright in prosperous love,"
to h e rs e lf, to " a ll th a t was most unlike Anne E llio t!," (P 123) and
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to sympathize with the feeling th a t her l i f e w ill never be joyful
ag ain . And i t i s good to enjoy the tim e s when Henry T iln e y and
Frederick Wentworth pop up to pay a tte n tio n to Catherine and Anne.
These moments show a lte rn a te p ictu re s of experiences which women in
t h i s c u l t u r e l i v e th rough. But th ey do n o t show tim e s o f g r e a t e r
or le ss e r worthiness of the characters themselves. These women are
n o t to be m easured by w hether men devote th e m se lv e s to them.
Readers need a t l a s t to see t h a t such judgm ents v i o l a t e the
co n c e p tio n o f th e s e u n c o n v e n tio n a l c r e a t i o n s , women whose l i v e s
resemble our own. But more than th a t —these are figures of women
whose l i v e s re se m b le our own, and y e t a r e seen a s , c e le b r a te d a s ,
c e n tra lly important.
I suggest th at Austen’s feminism is more innovative than much
of what i s often called feminism today. Many non-fem inist w rite rs
have commented on the d isc re p a n c y betw een fem ale and male
o p portunities. Anthony Trollope, for instance, points out in The
Prime M inister ’’what salvation or d estru ctio n there may be to an
E n g lish g en tlem an in th e sex o f an i n f a n t! " He d is c u s s e s how
because "the c h ild was a d a u g h te r . . . This poor baby was now
l i t t l e b e tte r than a beggar brat." Trollope n o tices the difference
between the kind of nurturing given to females and to males in th is
c u l t u r e . But he i s un ab le to extend h i s a n a l y s i s to see how i t
a f f e c t s a d u l t women and men. The same d isc re p a n c y in n u r tu r in g
which would have cared fo r a boy c h ild , who "would have been nursed
in the best bedroom . . . and cherished with the warmest k isses,
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w h ile ig n o rin g th e g i r l , c h a r a c t e r i z e s h i s g r e a t e r i n t e r e s t in
P l a n t a g e n e t P a l l i s e r th a n in G le n c o r a M 'C lu s k ie P a l l i s e r .
U l t i m a t e l y , in th e b e g in n in g o f The Duke's C h ild re n , T ro llo p e
disposes of Glencora alto g e th e r, in order to assure a tte n tio n for
P la n ta g e n e t. He d is c a r d s h e r, as what I c a l l th e " d isp e n s a b le
woman," who r o u t i n e l y d ie s in American f i c t i o n s t o d a y - - l i k e the
woman i n , f o r in s ta n c e , Terms o f Endearm ent — to en su re a happy
reunion for a l l the other characters.
The fa c t i s th a t, a c tu a lly , everyone is "almost p re tty ," lik e
C a th e rin e M orland, (NA 15) or " i f n o t q u ite handsome [th e n ] v ery
n e a r i t , " l i k e Henry T iln ey . (25) A t t r a c t iv e n e s s i s a m a t t e r o f
time and perception ra th e r than simple a e s th e tic s. A esthetics are
what Austen characters fe e l for things lik e General Tilney’s china,
not for people. When characters are judging h e a rtle s s ly , there is
d i f f i c u l t y se e in g beau ty where i t i s , in Fanny P r ic e , in Anne
E llio t, or in Edward Ferrars. Sometimes even stunning elegance is
overlooked, as when people lik e Augusta Elton have trouble seeing
how s p e c i a l people l i k e Jane F a ir f a x a r e . Mrs. E lto n 's e f f u s i o n s
only show the d if f ic u lty she has granting worth to a person about
to become a governess. What is joyful about Austen's vision of our
l i v e s i s t h a t th ey a re so much more e x c i t i n g th an mere v i s u a l
p l e a s u r e — t h a t p eople become p h y s ic a ll y charm ing because we so
admire them in other ways, because they are so w ell known.
Austen shows what new l i v e s we a re to dream o f - - n o t th e old
p a tte rn of being kidnapped by the v i l l a i n and rescued by the hero,
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of, in other words, being ported back and fo rth . For the heroine,
to be i d e a l i s to be d is p e n s a b le . I n s te a d , we the a lm o st
b e a u t i f u l , w i l l f a l l in love w ith th e n e a r ly handsome p erso n who
w ill think us the most b e a u tifu l as we grow to think him or her the
most handsome too. Elinor Dashwood learns to think Edward F errars
handsome because of his sweetness of expression; Elizabeth Bennet
s to p s being i n t i m i d a te d by F i t z w i l l i a m D arcy's good lo o k s; Mr.
Darcy learns to consider Elizabeth "as one of the handsomest women
o f my a c q u a in ta n c e ," (PP 271) because o f how h e r countenance "was
rendered uncommonly i n t e l l i g e n t by the b e a u tifu l expression of her
dark eyes." (23) When C a ro lin e B ingley h e a rs ab o u t Mr. D arcy's
a d m ira tio n o f E liz a b e th 's " fin e e y e s," she knows t h a t i t means he
i s a ttra c te d . That feeling is only an early version of a tte n tio n ,
for Mr. Darcy is s t i l l thinking p rim arily of his own entertainm ent,
but much l a t e r Mr. Darcy w i l l be "o v e rflo w in g w ith a d m ira tio n ."
(262) W e saw him learn to feel th a t Elizabeth was b e a u tifu l as he
discovered th a t she was in te re s tin g .
This is what Henry Crawford never does with Fanny Price, and
why Fanny "co n tin u ed to th in k Mr. Crawford very p la in ." (MP 48)
To think people are b eau tifu l because we love them is rig h t. But
Austen's novels show th a t loving people because they are comely is
wrong. There i s no r e a l a c q u a in ta n c e , and a f f e c t i o n d is a p p e a rs
with youth, or even before. With Mr. and Mrs. Bennet we are shown
one r e s u l t , w ith S i r W alter and th e l a t e Lady E l l i o t , a n o th e r.
Henry Crawford i s no t i n t e l l i g e n t enough to know t h a t th e r e i s
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danger in h i s love f o r Fanny P r ic e , fo r when he ad o re s how the
l i t t l e c u r l f a l l s forw ard on h er fa c e , (296) we a re j u s t i f i e d in
d re a d in g f o r Fanny's sake th e tim e when h e r h a i r has grown g rey.
Edmund l e a r n s "to p r e f e r s o f t l i g h t eyes" (470) b ecau se, once he
has r e a l i z e d t h a t he lo v e s Fanny, he cannot h elp b u t love h e r
ex ternal a ttr ib u te s . That is why George Knightley considers Emma
Woodhouse th e epito m e o f p e r f e c t beau ty : "I have seldom seen a
face or f ig u r e more p le a s in g to me . . . I love to look a t h e r,"
(39 E) and why Emma t h in k s him what everyone must adm ire. (326)
"His firm , u p r ig h t f ig u r e . . . was such as Emma f e l t must draw
every body's eyes." Anne E llio t i s glad to find out th a t Frederick
Wentworth thinks her s t i l l lovely, compares i t with former words,
and is discerning enough to understand th a t h is adm iration is the
re s u lt not the cause of his reviving love. (P 243)
And i f we laugh m errily a t Captain Wentworth's change in h is
o p i n i o n o f A nne's l o o k s , we a l s o la u g h a b o u t A nne's f u l l
c o n s c io u sn e s s o f C aptain W entw orth's b e a u ty , and r e l i a n c e on i t s
id e n tic a l e ffe c t on Lady Russell:
She could th o ro u g h ly comprehend . . . th e d i f f i c u l t y i t
must be f o r h e r to w ith d raw h e r e y e s, th e a s to n is h m e n t
she must be feeling th a t eig h t or nine years should have
passed over him, . . . w ith o u t robbing him of one
p e rs o n a l grace!" (179)
In a l l the n o v els A usten's n a r r a t o r f in d s m irth in the main
c h a r a c t e r ' s r e l a t i o n t o t h e p e r s o n sh e l o v e s . Such hum or
in te n s if ie s , not undermines, the reader's joyful p a rtic ip a tio n in
th a t a ffe c tio n .
138
I tu r n now to some o f th o se comic moments o f c r i s i s , both
minor and grand. The q u e s tio n I want f i n a l l y to b rin g to the
r e la tio n between n a rra tiv e and protagonist i s , why make us laugh?
Why not w rite C larissa, where the ris k s are deadly and the struggle
fie rc e ? And why are terms lik e "irony," " sa tire ," and "parody" too
narrow to d e s c rib e A usten's r e l a t i o n to her c e n t r a l c h a r a c t e r s ?
Austen i s challenging our usual view of women where only the most
s e r i o u s o f r e l a t i o n s is allo w ed to such paragons. With h er
m e rrim e n t, Austen s t a r t s a c o n n e c tio n o f r e a d e r to fem ale lead
which can be som ething l i k e what r e a l women can f e e l tow ard
o u r s e lv e s . We can l e a r n to tak e o u r s e lv e s s e r i o u s l y enough to
c ease com paring o u r s e lv e s to the c u l t u r e 's myths of i d e a l women,
but can a t the same time learn a ta le n t for laughing a t our e f fo r ts
which w i l l p re v e n t any s lip p a g e back to the m elo d ra m a tic
e x a g g e r a tio n ,s o a p t l y p o rtra y e d in I s a b e l l a Thorpe, t h a t we a re
moving beyond. Austen makes us laugh a t h e r p r o ta g o n is t s d u rin g
moments which also make us question how we judge women's liv es.
For Catherine Morland, such a moment comes when she worries
about whether the Allens w i l l prolong th e i r stay in Bath, when "Her
whole happiness seemed a t stake, while the a f f a i r was in suspense,
and every th in g secu red when i t was d e te rm in e d t h a t th e lo d g in g s
should be taken for another f o rtn ig h t." The n a rra to r then adds,
What t h i s a d d i t i o n a l f o r t n i g h t was to produce to h e r
beyond the p le a s u re o f som etim es se e in g Henry T iln e y ,
made but a s m a ll p a r t o f C a th e r in e 's s p e c u la tio n . Once
or twice indeed, since James's engagement had taught her
what could be done, she had got so fa r as to indulge in a
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s e c r e t " p e rh a p s,” but in g e n e r a l th e f e l i c i t y o f being
with him for the present bounded her views; the present
was now com prised in a n o th e r th r e e weeks, and h e r
happiness being c e rta in for th a t period, the r e s t of her
l i f e was a t such d i s t a n c e as to e x c i t e but l i t t l e
i n t e r e s t . (NA 138)
Catherine’s imaginative operations do not harm her as Maria Bertram
w i l l i n j u r e h e r s e l f by no t loo k in g a t th e consequences o f h er
yearning for Henry Crawford while she is engaged to another person,
throwing a "mist" over l a t e r time and hoping "when the m ist cleared
away, she should see som ething e ls e ." (107) I n s te a d , p a r t of
C a th e r in e ’s y o u th fu ln e s s i s t h a t she does n o t worry ab o u t f u tu r e
conseq u en ces, f o r th re e weeks o f s e e in g Henry T iln e y i s a lm o st
enough f o r h e r i m a g i n a t i o n . In f a c t , u n t i l h e r b r o t h e r ' s
b eth ro th al, she a c tu a lly had not been aware of "what is possible"
between women and men.
That " s e c r e t ’p e r h a p s ," ’ i s w o nderful because i t shows t h a t
even Catherine i s quite c o m p lic a te d — h e r f e e l i n g s do n o t a rra n g e
themselves in to orderly boxes. This is a regular kind of suspense
in beginning love r e la tio n s ; wondering whether we are becoming as
dear and admirable to another as Henry is to Catherine. Catherine
i s able to indulge in harmless, half-im agined fa n ta sie s through her
s e c r e t , unspoken "p erh ap s," and then to focus e x c l u s iv e ly on the
present. Catherine does not fe e l much g u i l t about her d esires or
her im aginings,—or, a t le a s t her su rp rise a t h e rse lf only lim its
h e r to th e p riv a c y o f h e r "p erh ap s," and i t s u n f in is h e d q u a l i t y ,
instead of erupting as any self-reproach or annoyance. Catherine
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i s open to h e r own d e s i r e s in good ways, but does no t c o n c e n tr a te
overmuch on o b ta in a b le ends l i k e m a rria g e in th e manner of
I s a b e l l a Thorpe o r , l a t e r , M aria Bertram and Mary Crawford. The
is s u e is no t w hether C a th e rin e i s as f r e e to t e l l Henry t h a t she
lo v e s him as he i s to t e l l h e r , f o r th e whole joke o f th e novel i s
t h a t he only f a l l s in love w ith h e r because he has been so
convinced th a t she loves him. The question which amuses us here is
how Catherine in te rfu s e s process and possible goals, caring about
the joys of now, along with dreams of how they may be prolonged for
u n im ag in ab le f u t u r e s . I t i s fun to laugh and wonder h e re , f o r i t
rem inds us o f what our l i v e s a re l i k e , how f i l l e d w ith q u e s tio n s
and half-thought hopes.
Austen shows us a s i m i l a r s e l f - d i v i s i o n in Anne E l l i o t when
Anne g lim p se s C aptain Wentworth f i r s t in Bath, and i t should be
ju s t as in trig u in g for her audience.
She now f e l t a g reat in c lin a tio n to go to the ou ter door;
she wanted to see i f i t ra in e d . Why was she to s u s p e c t
h e rs e lf of another motive? Captain Wentworth must be out
o f s i g h t . She l e f t h e r s e a t , she would go, one h a l f o f
h e r should n o t be alw ays so much w is e r th an th e o th e r
h a lf, or always suspecting the other of being worse than
i t was. She would see i f i t r a in e d . She was s e n t back,
however, in a moment by the entrance of Captain Wentworth
him self." (P 175)
This o ffe rs so p histicated psychology, as well as pleasure, to the
reader—i t is not a conservative tightening of the borders. This
is a character's complicated l i f e , and a complicated moment for us
to u n d e rsta n d . I t i s funny, s e r i o u s , s a d , and moving. Anne i s
wonderful but i3 yet vulnerable to such self-mistrust and
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i n d e c i s i o n over what she ought to do and w ant, o v er w h eth er i t i s
j u s t i f i a b l e to see where C ap tain Wentworth has gone. I t i s , o f
course, but may also be uncomfortble. W e ought to be confused over
which h a lf of Anne we should support. I t is not an easy question,
and Anne's d i s t r a c t i o n o v er why she w ants to see out th e window,
and w hether she is w i l l i n g to ad m it t h a t i t i s to g lim p se her
b elo v ed , i s am u sin g ly , and t h r i l l i n g l y , p a i n f u l . That p a in ,
though, is pushed aside by a more immediate c r i s i s : the sig h t, not
of Captain Wentworth's vanishing t r a i l , but of h is very s e lf . This
is a funny s h i f t whose humor l i e s in i t s excitement. Things may be
about to happen.
Y eazell re a d s c o n s e rv a tis m and an u n h e a lth y p u r i t y i n t o a
s im ila r moment of Fanny P ric e 's , ^ where Fanny r e a liz e s th a t
To think of [Edmund] as Miss Crawford might be j u s tif ie d
in th in k in g , would be in h e r i n s a n i t y . To h e r, he could
be nothing under any circum stances—nothing dearer than a
f r i e n d . Why did such an id e a occur to h e r even to be
reprobated and forbidden? I t ought not to have touched
on the confines of her imagination. (MP 265)
Fanny cannot help knowing what she wants as long as she is aware of
her "in clination" for Edmund. Even acknowledging th a t she has no
c la im even to dream o f Edmund cau ses Fanny an i n t e r e s t i n g pain
which i s p ecu liar and engrossing for us, because i t enlightens her
as to what she d e s i r e s . What m irth we f e e l h ere has become
completely unified with sympathy, ex istin g mostly in our awareness
th a t circumstances and Edmund w ill change so th a t Fanny w ill ra th e r
soon be ju s t i f i e d in thinking of him fa r more a ffe c tio n a te ly than
142
Miss Craw ford. Our p r o t a g o n i s t 's c o m p lic a te d d e s i r e s em phasize
most of a l l her lo n elin ess, but also teach us the i r r e p r e s s i b i l it y
o f h e r hopes. No m a tte r how Fanny t r i e s to conform to what f e e l s
l i k e h er duty by no t c a r in g f o r a man a tta c h e d to a n o th e r p erso n ,
th e v i t a l i t y o f h e r a f f e c t i o n announces i t s e l f through h er v ery
a tte m p ts no t to be aware of i t , h e r very h o r ro r t h a t because she
has contrasted h e rs e lf w ith Mary Crawford and accepted how things
can never be, she must have some forbidden a sp ira tio n s.
What Austen o f f e r s t h a t i s s p e c i a l i s l a u g h t e r 's u n ity w ith
sympathy, a sympathy which readers can also enjoy. With Elizabeth
Bennet, t h a t p le a s u r e i s p a r t i c u l a r l y n o t i c e a b l e . Our view o f
Elizabeth's feelin g s about F itzw illiam Darcy as she learns th a t he
i s d i f f e r e n t th an she had th o u g h t i s c o n t i n u a l l y h i l a r i o u s . We
care for Elizabeth's struggles as e n e rg e tic a lly as we have fun with
them. When Elizabeth is seeing Pemberley, she, of course, thinks
of how things might have been: how " a ll th is" might have been hers
by now, how she m ight now have been ta k in g h e r a u n t and u n cle
through th e rooms f a m i l i a r l y in s t e a d o f as a s t r a n g e r , u n t i l she
rem inds h e r s e l f t h a t she should no t have been a llo w e d to i n v i t e
them. "This was a lucky re c o lle c tio n —i t saved her from something
l i k e r e g r e t , " (PP 246) th e n a r r a t o r say s.
That lin e forms a whole paragraph by i t s e l f . I t is not there
to show u s, in Newman's w ords, t h a t " E liz a b e th 's change o f h e a r t
toward Darcy happens a t Pemberley in response to his p ro p e rty ," ^
or t h a t "no one i s immune" from w anting to m arry f o r money.39 i t
143
i s not th a t Elizabeth tru ly wishes th a t she had married Mr. Darcy
for the sake of Pemberley’s b eauties, because only a chapter la t e r ,
th i s same Elizabeth w ill genuinely puzzle over whether she wants to
"employ the power, which her fancy told her she s t i l l possessed, of
b rin g in g on th e ren ew al of h i s a d d re s s e s ." (266) I n s te a d ,
E liz a b e th is amusing h e r s e l f by p l a y f u l l y t o r t u r i n g h e r s e l f , by
liv in g out a very f u l l r e la tio n to events, where she does not l i m i t
her imagination s t r i c t l y to what she tru ly wants. The outcome of
th is movement i s th a t the reader has to cope with a more abundant
l i f e than we might expect, and to liv e with unanswerable questions
about Elizabeth. W e must wonder about how she e n te rta in s h e rs e lf
in p ainful ways by exploring lo s t, even i f unwanted, p o s s i b i l i t ie s
f o r h e r l i f e . C a th e rin e , Fanny, and Anne know what th ey want and
t r y to s e t i t a s id e . E liz a b e th s p o r ts w ith what she does n o t y e t
w ant, j u s t a s Anne w i l l d a l l y w ith m usings about becoming "Lady
E l l i o t . " T h eir r e l a t i o n s to t h e i r l i v e s are never c o n fin ed to a
lin e a r thread of hopes.
At Pem berley, E liz a b e th has a r e a l lo n g in g to h e a r more of
F itzw illiam Darcy, both to to rtu re h e rs e lf with the something lik e
r e g r e t , and to t r u l y g e t to know more o f a Mr. Darcy who i s more
worthy than she had thought. After the news of Lydia’s elopement,
we are to d e l i g h t in E l i z a b e th 's own p e r t u r b a t i o n a t h e r now-
acknowledged a f f e c t i o n f o r a p erso n she used to d e s p is e . She
"sighed a t the perverseness of those feelin g s which would now have
promoted i t s continuance, and would formerly have rejoiced in i t s
144
t e r m i n a t i o n . ” (279) A u s t e n 's o p p o s i t i o n b e tw e e n " lu c k y "
re c o lle c tio n and th is new "perverseness" emphasizes how Elizabeth
cannot get her feelin g s to do what she wants. This is a funny, not
a tra g ic , way to describe newly-discovered and supposedly hopeless
lo v e. On top o f e v e ry th in g e l s e , E liz a b e th 's f e e l i n g s have th e
beauty o f b ein g couched in C a th e rin e M orland's te rm s ; she is
thinking of promoting the continuation of t h e i r acquaintance ra th e r
than definable ends or goals lik e marriage. The emphasis here is
not on bringing back a renewal of Mr. Darcy’s addresses, but simply
on b e in g a b l e to c o n t i n u e k n o w in g h im . In th e m e a n tim e ,
E liz a b e th 's whole r e l a t i o n to h e r f e e l i n g s i s u p s e t by h e r new
aw aren ess o f h e r a f f e c t i o n fo r Mr. Darcy and doubt about h is
sentim ents.
After Mr. Darcy has v is ite d Longbourn again la t e r , Elizabeth
th i n k s : "Teazing, te a z in g man! I w i l l th in k no more ab o u t him."
The n a r r a t o r adds t h a t "Her r e s o l u t i o n was f o r a s h o rt tim e
i n v o l u n t a r i l y k e p t by th e approach o f h e r s i s t e r . " (339) Our
p r o ta g o n is t wants to c o n tin u e co n cen tratin g on what w orries her,
even though "She could s e t t l e i t in no way th a t gave her pleasure."
That is why "As soon as they [Messrs. Darcy and Bingley] were gone,
Elizabeth walked out to recover her s p i r i t s ; or in other words, to
dwell without in te rru p tio n on those subjects th a t must deaden them
more." C le a rly i t i s n o t c o m fo rt t h a t E liz a b e th seek s. She does
not want to be relieved from harassing h e rse lf about Mr. Darcy, for
th a t concern is most compelling and c e n tra l now. But th is moment
145
does not show the n a rra to r rid ic u lin g the protagonist. This is an
author making most vivid and sympathetic a person's p lig h t and lack
o f c l a r i t y , h e r p o s i t i v e l y e x a s p e ra te d c o n fu sio n ab o u t th e
s itu a tio n she is in. There can be no "recovery" from these worries
because no one can ad ju st to them.
I want to c a l l t h i s n a r r a t i v e p e r s p e c tiv e a t h r i l l i n g
sympathy, a frien d ly laughter, dramatized in moments about which
one cannot help laughing a t the same time th a t one is concerned for
th e c h a r a c t e r ’s sake. Such a r e p r e s e n t a t i o n i s both new and
f a m ilia r, because i t re c re a te s so exactly what we a l l feel. Half
of what we enjoy i s the audacity of Austen's t r u t h - t e l l i n g and the
o r i g i n a l i t y o f h e r in v e n tio n . P r e c i s e l y because i t i s not a new
circumstance in common l i f e , the c r e d it of a wild and a searching
imagination should be a l l Austen's own.
To Elinor Dash wood, Austen gives a s lig h tly d iffe re n t s o rt of
moment, when Edward v i s i t s her while Lucy is also c a llin g on her.
Her exertions did not stop there; for she soon afterw ards
f e l t h e r s e l f so h e r o i c a l l y d isp o sed as to d e te rm in e ,
under pretence of fetching Marianne, to leave the others
by th e m se lv e s ; and she r e a l l y did i t , and t h a t in the
handsomest manner, for she lo ite re d away several minutes
on th e l a n d i n g - p l a c e , w i t h th e m o st h ig h - m in d e d
f o rtitu d e . (SS 242)
E lin o r 's s i t u a t i o n i s more d e s p e ra te th an E l i z a b e th 's , f o r her
Edward F errars i s engaged to another woman. Yet Elinor's e f f o r t i s
to make everything smooth for Edward, to believe th a t he does love
Lucy enough to have "raptures" (242) during a te te - a - t e t e with her.
She does t h i s even though she r e a l l y knows t h a t he i s no lo n g e r
1H6
happy to be w ith Luoy, t h a t he r e a l l y lo v es h e r, E lin o r . This i s
not a Hr. Bennet n a r r a t o r who knows b e t t e r than h er c h a r a c t e r
c o n tr iv in g to u p stag e E lin o r by showing o f f h e r own s u p e r io r
wisdom. This is an e x p lo r a tio n of how E lin o r can cope w ith an
em ergency, how she can s o r t out what she w ants to do f o r h e r s e l f ,
Edward, and Lucy. She a c t s q u ite n obly, but we do n o t w holly
b e lie v e in t h a t "handsom est m anner," and n e i t h e r does E lin o r
h e rse lf. She leaves Edward alone with the other woman—a t le a s t
p a r tly —in order to assure him th a t she w ill not compete in power
s t r u g g l e s l i k e Lucy, "who would have o u t s t a i d him had h is v i s i t
l a s t e d two hours." (2M4) E l i n o r 's e f f o r t to do what i s b e s t i s
both funny and p o ig n a n t. We should re c o g n iz e a new n a r r a t i v e
a t t i t u d e , one which can be so f u l l y both d is ta n c e d and in v o lv e d ,
t h a t i t c o lla p s e s the d i s t i n c t i o n betw een them. Sympathy and
laughter merge in Austen's n a rra tiv e voice.
The g re a te st unity between supportiveness and humor, the most
u n iq u e ly i n t e g r a t e d , p e rh a p s, comes in Emma, whose p r o ta g o n is t
su ffe rs the most miserably because she has the most to repent. She
has been unconsciously the most self-d iv id e d throughout her novel,
and finds out what she wants in the most sudden enlightenment; she
s u f f e r s , in com parison to E lin o r , Fanny, and Anne, f o r only a
l i t t l e . Emma's misery is purer because she has been happy before
o n ly t h r o u g h m o n s tr o u s s e l f - d e c e p t i o n ; c o n s e q u e n t l y , h e r
d iscoveries bring a g reat deal of sadness and reg ret. Emma is not
used to such feelin g s, for she has been accustomed only to success,
147
u n iversal popularity, and a happy sense of confident en titlem ent.
But Emma's th o u g h t t h a t "She had alw ays known e x a c tly how f a r he
[Mr. Knightley] loved and esteemed Isa b e lla ," (E 415) shows th a t
i n s e c u r i t y and making sure of the reach o f Mr. K n ig h tle y ’s
a f f e c t i o n s had long been an is s u e w ith Emma. I t i s funny and sad
because we must conceive with th is protagonist th a t she may have
wrecked a l l her own chances for happiness. Emma's thought ra ise s a
p o s s ib ility th a t we had not suspected: th a t Emma has unconsciously
been in v e stig a tin g even Isa b e lla 's influence with Mr. Knightley.
When Emma a t l a s t h e a rs H a r r i e t 's c o n f e s s io n , or b o a s t, o f
love for Mr. Knightley, her responses are b r i l l i a n t l y complex,
Some portion of respect for h e rse lf, however, in sp ite of
a l l these d em erits—some concern for her own appearance,
and a strong sense of ju s tic e by H a rrie t— (there could be
no need o f com passion to th e g i r l who b e lie v e d h e r s e l f
loved by Mr. K n ig h tle y — but j u s t i c e re q u ire d t h a t she
should no t be made unhappy by any c o ld n e s s now,) gave
Emma the r e s o l u t i o n to s i t and endure f a r t h e r w ith
ca lm n e ss, w ith even a p p a re n t k in d n e s s .-- F o r h e r own
advantage in d eed , i t was f i t t h a t th e u tm o st e x te n t o f
H a r rie t's hopes should be enquired in to ." (408)
T h is h i l a r i o u s s e r i e s o f j u x t a p o s i t i o n s , m o v e m e n ts, and
combinations is also m im etically moving. W e laugh a t how Emma is
taking care of h e r s e lf by feigning kindness and try in g to a sc e rta in
th e v a l i d i t y o f H a r r i e t 's hopes, but a ls o adm ire how Emma t r i e s
s ta u n c h ly to do h er duty by H a r r i e t , even w h ile she t r i e s to
understand her own d esire s and the t e r r i b l e rev elatio n th a t George
K n ig h tle y may be a tta c h e d to a n o th e r p erso n . As f u l l y , we care
about Emma and mourn for her suffering.
148
No one has yet described the power or the achievements of such
transform ations, of Austen’s continually changing tone and e f fe c t,
or o f her varying r e la tio n to her protagonists and the complexity
of th e ir conception. These are new visions because Austen o ffers
laughter, which we normally fe e l as detached and c r i t i c a l , lik e Mr.
B ennet’s v i c t i m i z a t i o n o f Mrs. Bennet, as a form o f sympathy and
connection. But to say th a t i t i s sympathetic laughter is perhaps
not enough. W e have such strong asso ciatio n s of laughter and mirth
as a g g r e s s iv e and demeaning to t h e i r o b j e c t s . Austen ta k e s th e
h o s t i l i t y out o f l a u g h t e r — i t h e lp s us e x p lo re but no t condemn.
Even a g a i n s t c h a r a c t e r s l i k e S i r John and Lady M id d leto n , Austen
does no t use la u g h te r so much to cen su re as to make us ask how we
can avoid th e ir waste, th e ir s i l l y clich es. W e wonder how we can
be b e tte r than th a t. And the complex examples of the protagonists
te a c h us t h a t th e answ ers a re n o t s im p le . I t i s n o t easy to be
more complicated than they even i f we pride ourselves, esp e c ia lly
i f , on our own in te llig e n c e and depth.
A usten's n a r r a t i v e in v o lv em en t shows t h a t i t i s p o s s ib le to
sy m p ath ize u t t e r l y and y e t have a l i v e l y r e l a t i o n to e v e n ts , an
a c t i v e and in n o v a tiv e p lay w ith p o s s i b i l i t i e s ; to th in k and care
s e r i o u s l y y e t be funny, v i v i d , p e c u l i a r , p a r t i c u l a r ; to d e s c rib e
a p tly yet ask o rig in a l and outrageous questions; and most of a l l ,
to re n d e r w ith a f f e c t i o n a t e r e s p e c t th e e x p e rie n c e s which women
often liv e. The n a rra tiv e connection to the c e n tra l characters is
te l l i n g l y exact—not ju s t precise lik e snipping s c is s o rs , or small
149
l i k e m i n i a t u r e s — but s t a r t l i n g l y v iv id . Like 1930's ro m a n tic
comedy f i l m s , A usten's n o v e ls o f f e r comic moments which we both
enjoy and tak e s e r i o u s l y . This i s a f i c t i o n which i s both comic
and p a s s io n a te , where th e re n d e rin g s grow even more h i l a r i o u s l y
tr u e th e more th ey m a tte r . Through h er p o r t r a y a l o f h er le a d in g
c h a r a c t e r s , A usten's a r t r e l e a s e s , n o t c a p tu r e s , s y m p a th e tic
q u e s tio n s which s p rin g from both a f r i e n d l y la u g h te r and a
v i c a r i o u s d e s p a ir . Her humor c e l e b r a t e s th e paradox o f f e e l i n g ,
the power of her characters to know sim ultaneously both remorse and
hope, s e l f - p r e s e r v a t i o n and s e l f l e s s love. This w i l l lead to
f u l f i l l m e n t s t h a t end l i t t l e , t h a t su g g e st in s te a d th e h o p efu l
futures to which these complex emotions can lead.
150
Notes
1David Monaghan, "Jane Austen and the Position of Women," Jane
Austen in a S o c ia l C ontex t, ed. David Monaghan (Totowa, N.J.:
Barnes & Noble, 1981), p. 114.
2Norman Page, "Orders of M erit," Jane Austen Today, ed. Joel
W einsheim er (A thens, Ga.: U n iv e r s ity o f G eorgia P r e s s , 1975), pp.
61- 6 2 .
^Harold N icholson, quoted in R. W. Chapman, Jane Austen:
Facts and Problems (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1948), p..--93.
^M arilyn B u tle r , Jane Austen and th e War o f Ideas (London:
Oxford U niversity Press, 1975), p. 1.
^Ruth Bernard Y e a z e ll, "The B oundaries o f M a n sfie ld P a r k ,"
Representations 7 (Summer 1984): 144.
^Yasmine G ooneratne, Jane Austen (Cambridge: Cambridge
U niversity Press, 1970), p. 105.
^Robert Alan Donovan, "The Mind of Jane Austen," Jane Austen
Today, ed. J o e l W einsheim er (A thens, Ga.: U n iv e r s ity o f G eorgia
Press, 1975), p. 112.
8I b id ., p. 113.
^Sandra G ilb ert and Susan Gubar, The Madwoman in the A ttic:
the Woman W riter and the Nineteenth-Century L iterary Imagination
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979), p. 208.
10Margaret Kirkham, Jane Austen, Feminism and F iction (Totowa,
N .J.: Barnes & Noble, 1983), p. 93-
11I b id ., p. 83.
12Ibid.
^Susan Morgan, In the Meantime: Character and Perception in
Jane Austen's F iction (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980).
14
Kirkham, p. 77.
^ G i l b e r t and Gubar, p. 78.
l8Marilyn Butler, Romantics, Rebels, and Reactionaries (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1982), p. 98.
151
^ J a n e M iller, Women Writing About Men (London: Virago Press,
1986), p. 33.
^ G ilb e r t and Gubar, p. 174.
19I b id ., p. 171.
20Margaret Drabble, "Introduction," Lady Susan, The Watsons,
Sanditon (London: Penquin Books, 1974), p. 14.
2^ Ib id ., p. 13.
22
Terry L o v e ll, "Jane Austen and the G entry: A Study in
L ite ra tu re and Ideology," The Sociology of L ite ra tu re : Applied
Studies 26, ed. Diana Laurenson (April 1978): 32.
2^EHen Moers, L iterary Women (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday &
Company, 1976), p. 215.
24Ibid.
25
Karen Newman, "Can This M arriage Be Saved: Jane Austen
Makes Sense of an Ending," English L iterary History 50 (1983): 707.
Morgan, p. 80.
27
Donald Greene makes th is point in "The Myth of L im itation,"
Jane Austen Today, ed. Joel Weinsheimer (Athens, Ga.: U niversity of
G eorgia P re s s , 1975), pp. 149-50, but r e c e n t r e a d e r s c o n tin u e the
tre n d o f q u o tin g A usten's "two in c h e s o f iv o ry " s e r i o u s l y . See,
f o r exam ple, G i l b e r t and Gubar, pp. 63, 107-08; Mary Poovey, The
Proper Lady and the Woman W riter: Ideology as Style in the Works
o f Mary W o llsto n ecraft, Mary Shelley, and Jane Austen (Chicago:
U niversity of Chicago Press, 1984), p. 173; and M iller, p. 14.
c J. E. A u sten-L eigh, Memoir o f Jane Austen (London: 1871;
Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1926), p. 157.
29
Marvin Mudrick, Jane Austen: Irony as Defense and Discovery
(Princeton: Princeton U niversity Press, 1952), p. 40.
^°Moers, p. 140.
^1See, for example, Poovey, p. 183.
32]3utler, Jane Austen, p. 236.
152
33jane McDonnell, '"A l i t t l e S p ir it o f Independence*: Sexual
P o lit ic s and the Bildungsroman in Mansfield Park,” Novel: A Forum
on F iction 17 (Spring 1984): 208.
3^Monaghan, p . 109.
35Gilbert and Gubar, p. 145.
3^Anthony T r o l l o p e , The Prime M in iste r (Oxford: Oxford
U niversity Press, 1977), I I , p. 277.
3^Yeazell, p. 144.
3®Newman, p. 697.
39Ibid, p. 709.
153
Chapter 3
The Veiled Fulfillments
Trembling was a l l liv in g , liv in g was a l l loving . . .
—Gertrude Stein
"Ada"
A usten's f i c t i o n s e a rc h e s beyond t r a d i t i o n a l n o tio n s about
women's experience in several ways. I t argues against the teaching
t h a t m a rria g e or any sim p le c o n n ectio n to o th e r s w i l l so lv e a
woman's complex r e la tio n to experience. I t exposes usual p ictu re s
of love as d estru ctiv e. And i t o ffe rs a new n a rra tiv e a ttitu d e to
her le a d in g c h a r a c t e r s which p o in ts to new ways women can view
ourselves. These innovations are grounded in what I have argued is
a new w illingness to see women more f a i r l y , more percep tiv ely —to
t r e a t women more s e r i o u s l y through the v ery humor embedded in
A u s t e n 's n a r r a t i v e sy m p a th y . But a c r u c i a l co m p o n e n t o f
re imagining women and the future through a r t must be the q u ality of
any w ork's end, i t s p a r t in g p i c t u r e s . As A lexander Welsh has
argued, endings in ev itab ly stamp the works they help to cease with
154
a c e rta in f i n i t e form: "quite l i t e r a l l y , any action is defined by
i t s e n d in g ."1 Today, we o f te n judge the fem inism o f f i c t i o n s ‘by
the degree to which they portray women as defeated or v icto rio u s in
the end. Such a way of gauging a r t i f a c t s is founded on the b e lie f
th a t f ic tio n a l creatio n s influence what we c a ll " re a lity ," th a t a r t
r e i n f o r c e s in i t s au d ien ce credence in p o s s ib le f a t e s f o r women.
But t h i s i s only one means o f v a lu in g th e c o n c e iv a b ly i n f i n i t e
v a rie ty of endings which can fin is h a r t we see as fem in ist. W e do
need to ask what th e c lim a x e s and endings o f A usten's n o v els
accomplish, what values they support, what vision of women's liv e s
they make us imagine.
In discussing the culminations of her novels, I w ill look a t
how Austen portrays the p o s s i b i l i t ie s for women's experience. But
th is focus r e s ts on a more general question of how Austen connects
her outcomes to the processes she has portrayed. Put another way,
t h i s i s to ask how Austen co n n ects th e f u l f i l l m e n t to th e dream,
the re a liz a tio n to the hopes. Understanding the p a r tic u la r q u ality
of th a t r e la tio n is e s s e n tia l to appreciating the questions Austen
a sk s w ith h e r a r t , as w e ll as our aw aren ess o f t h e i r p o l i t i c a l
fo rc e today. In o rd e r to e x p lo re th e i m p l i c a t i o n s o f th e n o v e ls ,
we must grapple with the reso lu tio n s which end them.
Recent readers have seen Austen's p lo ts and p a rtic u la rly th e ir
endings as s e x is t and misogynist. For G ilb ert and Gubar, Austen's
books co m p rise "A s to r y as s e x i s t as t h a t of th e tam ing o f the
155
s h r e w . T h e i r s i s a ls o th e most famous a s s e r t i o n t h a t f i n a l l y
Austen represses her female characters:
Dramatizing the n ecessity of female submission for female
surv iv al, Austen's story is esp e c ia lly f l a t t e r i n g to male
r e a d e r s because i t d e s c r ib e s th e tam ing no t j u s t o f any
woman but s p e c ific a lly of a re b e llio u s, im aginative g i r l
who is amorously mastered by a sensible man.^
Other readers have followed. Butler argues th a t "the d is tin c tiv e
tu r n s o f h er [A u ste n 's] p l o t s , u n lik e th o se of M aria Edgew orth,
rebuke i n d i v i d u a l i s t i c fem ale i n i t i a t i v e s , and im ply t h a t the
consumm ation o f a woman's l i f e l i e s in m a rria g e to a commanding
man."1 * And Jane M i l l e r , t a l k i n g o f A usten's rew ard s f o r men l i k e
Edward F e r r a r s , c la im s t h a t , "Her r o b u s t backing o f w in n e rs i s
alw ays w atched, however, a g a i n s t a backdrop o f f a i l u r e , o f
d a u g h te rs and w ives who have been la m e n ta b ly m isle d and who
lamentably deceive themselves.
M y sense of th is c r itic is m is th a t i t has not yet escaped the
d u a lism s t h a t Austen o v e rtu rn e d 170 y e a rs ago. Much o f th e
c r i t i c a l m isre a d in g o f A usten's w r i ti n g s r e s ts on a questionable
fear of single l i f e , of "genteel poverty and spinsterhood,"^ and a
conservative view of success as marriage. Their assumptions bow to
th e dom inant o p p o s itio n s as i f th ey r e f l e c t r e a l i t y r a t h e r th an
r e fle c tin g the d is to rtio n s and double-vision we have been taught to
accept as re a l. This prejudice which tr e a t s only males as people
and pushes women to the periphery, as sp in s te rs or wives, v irg in s
or w hores, gold d ig g e r s or m a t r i a r c h s , f r i g i d m a n -h a te rs or
nymphomaniacs, c a r e e r women or h o u sew iv es, old l a d i e s o r young
156
g i r l s . To be perceptive about Austen's novels, we need to see such
categories as the fic tio n s they are, the sc are-p ictu re s of misogyny
which i n t i m i d a t e women i n t o making C h a r lo tte Lucas's c h o ic e s or
ju d g in g as H a r r i e t Sm ith does. The p o in t is t h a t she does not
judge. We, to d ay , need to r e f r a i n from u sin g th e s e c a t e g o r i e s as
i f they ever, in any way, a p tly describe re a l women. They do not,
and Austen shows th a t they do not.
Yet A usten's in n o v a tio n s a re passed over by the c r i t i c a l
i n s i s t e n c e on m easuring h e r v i s i o n s a c c o rd in g to th e s e old and
deceptive groupings.
The g e n e r a l c r i t i c a l view seems to be t h a t , There are
c l e v e r and im a g in a tiv e young women in Jane A usten's
n o v e ls . . . who m ight . . . have . . . made a l i f e fo r
themselves without a husband. Yet i f th a t had happened
to Elizabeth, say, in Pride and Prejudice, we would have
re g a rd e d th e novel as a t r a g i c one, and so would Jane
Austen. ^
Such a view does an i n j u s t i c e to the s p e c i f i c s o f the s t o r i e s the
n o v e ls t e l l . When E liz a b e th wonders w hether th e s t a t u s o f h er
r e la tiv e s w ill force Mr. Darcy to cease wanting to marry her, and
'•determ ine him to be as happy, as d i g n i t y unblem ished could make
him," she answers h e rse lf with courage. "If he is s a tis f ie d with
only re g re ttin g me, when he might have obtained my a ffe c tio n s and
hand, I s h a ll soon cease to re g re t him a t a ll." (PP 361) And Emma
recovers on the second afternoon of her suspense. Austen shows us
recovery even without the dreams being granted. Women’s liv e s are
portrayed as strong even with the happy end. These women continue
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hoping for the beloved's love, a hope which crosses in to worry, but
they also know th a t they w ill be able to cope beyond i t s lo ss.
Anne E l l i o t i s one p i c t u r e o f t h a t s u r v i v a l , and her m other
( li k e the e a r l y - c r e a t e d Mrs. T iln e y , and perhaps a ls o Mrs.
Woodhouse) a glimpse of another. I t is true th a t Anne su ffe rs th a t
"early lo ss of bloom and s p i r i t s " as the "la stin g e ffe c t" (P 28) of
b re a k in g o f f h er engagem ent to F re d e ric k W entworth. But we can
a ls o say t h a t to re c o v e r from ending an e s t a b l i s h e d in tim a c y of
m utual love i s more d i f f i c u l t th an to be sim p ly abandoned or
unloved by even Mr. Darcy or Mr. Knightley. The re a l point is th at
Anne does s u rv iv e , d o es c o n t i n u e i n v o l v i n g h e r s e l f i n h e r
experience, much as her mother had done. In s p ite of unhappiness,
Anne's " fo rtitu d e " resembles her m other's: Lady E l l i o t ,
though not the very happiest being in the world h e rse lf,
had found enough in h e r d u t i e s , h er f r i e n d s , and h e r
children, to a ttach her to l i f e , and make i t no m atter of
indifference to her when she was called on to q u it them.
(4)
Not f o r A usten's le a d s or a d m ira b le c h a r a c t e r s th e d e s p a ir or
tragedy to which Marianne Dashwood abandons h e rs e lf, or even Maria
B e rtra m ’s " s e lf - re v e n g e ." In th e se n o v e ls, Austen does g iv e us
happy en d in g s. But th ey tu r n out to be i n s p i r e d by h e r sim p le
d e l i g h t in p o r tr a y in g h a p p in e ss fo r women, as h e r c e l e b r a t o r y
comment, "My own joy on th e o c c a sio n i s v ery s i n c e r e ," (NA 251)
shows when reveling in Eleanor Tilney’s marriage and new f e l ic it y .
J u s t as Austen knows what end we count on when "the t e l l - t a l e
co m p ressio n of th e pages" s i g n a l s " t h a t we a re a l l h a s te n in g
158
t o g e t h e r to p e r f e c t f e l i c i t y , " (NA 250) she a ls o knows t h a t i t i s
n o t the only f u l f i l l m e n t we want to a t t a i n . There i s no s in g le
r ig h t ending. There are only people to love.
Many readers have been troubled by how Austen's climaxes seem
to r e t r e a t i n t o a n tic lim a x .® But th e whole is s u e o f why th e
clim actic moments so d e lib e ra te ly explore a feeling of anticlim ax
i s more c o m p lic a te d th an many have assum ed. E liz a b e th B ennet's
"not very fluent" communication, (PP 366) Emma Woodhouse's a b i l i t y
to "say" " j u s t what she o u ght," (E 431) and Anne E l l i o t ' s "not
r e p u l s i v e " look, (P 239) a l l s u r p r i s e us. Or r a t h e r , A usten's
r e f u s a l to i n v i t e us to paw through every s y l l a b l e i s what we do
n o t fo re s e e or e x p e c t. We are caug h t s h o rt—t o o ..bv h er r a p i d
descrip.ticaas- o f --how.l Cath e rin e Morland, Eli nor Dashwood,, ,^nd Fannv
Ericje--d-iscQve..r-..-that-.-.they are loved,__,J^iese.. moments- ~viola.te„.ro.mantic—
e ^ e c t a M 9 Ii^.b.ejiauae^the.y^.ax& -»n.oix,,lln g e re d over.. as...th.e. .Pinnacle of
■ storaejsL or of..-l i f e . Because Austen's.„interest ls in lovable- o e o p le
-pat h e r t han ^ ih , some grand heig h t of ach ievement
f i r s t moment of connection between her lovers^ into something_ oth er^^
th an a c l j j y i ^ Austen f o r c e s us to see th e s e tu rn in g p o in ts a s
p a r t of.fl^fuaax*e.a^^ grow i n t o g r e a t e r ^ „notL,l.e^i,,siW feX Q i..t,lJ3-S--,
J j l t e r e s t. The re v e la tion o£^l,ovfe-.,is,.J.uat. a l i t t l e beginning, not a
a tte x u tio n ^ b o th q u i t e s oon and long a f t e r .
I f the f i n a l v i s i o n s in A usten's n o v els a re o f f u tu r e
h a p p in e s s, A usten's s o l u t i o n does not amount to Mary Poovey's
159
c h a ra c te riz a tio n of the message in Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y a s , " i f
one su b m its to s o c i e t y , ev ery dream w i l l come t r u e . " ^ What we
think of as conservative today is to believe th a t "success" crowns
th e s t r i v i n g o f a l l good and t a l e n t e d p e o p le , or t h a t th e r e is a
n e c e s s a r y c o n n e c t i o n b e tw e e n e f f o r t and happy o u tc o m e .
Conservatives harbor l i t t l e pity for people without wealth or for
th o se who do n o t "succeed" because th ey b e lie v e t h a t anyone who
works a t i t can become w hatever s/h e w ants. We now a c c e p t as
p r o g re s s iv e th e a b i l i t y to see t h a t luck and th e c u l t u r e 's
c o n stra in ts or general stru ctu re determine how d ire c t w ill be the
connection between e f f o r t and a good r e s u lt, and for most of us the
answer is "not very." Often v a lia n t, noble endeavors f a i l .
A usten's n o v e ls p r e v e n t o u r a c c e p t i n g h e r o u tc o m e s a s
i n e v i t a b l e r e s u l t s o f worthy l i v i n g . But n e i t h e r are th e se
1 n
r e s o l u t i o n s c y n i c a l l y p a r o d ic , m easuring th e d is ta n c e betw een
s e n tim e n t and r e a l i t y . Austen does ex p e c t us to r e j o i c e in her
c u lm in a tio n s . We a re to be happy in th e p o s s i b i l i t y , no t th e
a b s o lu t e , o f love whose p le a s u re l i e s in i t s o n g o in g n e ss— n o t in
t h i s moment a lo n e , when th e p r in c e s s i s supposed to be crowned.
Austen leads us away from notions of success as single moments of
achievement, outside recognition, or even the securing of something
good. She makes b e t t e r p i c t u r e s o f the c o n n e c tio n betw een the
ordinary future with the normal now, the usual moments of being a
s e l f who i s good and i n t e r e s t i n g h e r s e l f w h ile c a r in g about and
being involved with other people—these turning points quite lik e
160
the r e s t of our experience are f u ll of both joyful s a tis fa c tio n and
te n d e r concern. The r e a l tim e s o f our l i v e s do n o t sto p in
m y th ic a l c lim a x e s , but m e lt i n t o f u tu r e s . A usten's p i c t u r e s
resemble th at Romantic concern with how we can only fe e l what we
are or have through how we fe e l i t s m o rta lity , the transience with
which i t changes and s lip s past.
Austen's a n ti-c lim a tic climaxes overturn the conservative idea
t h a t f a t e d e a ls us what we d e se rv e . Austen n ev er o v e rlo o k s th e
f a c t o f i n j u s t i c e , th e o c c u rre n c e of a c c i d e n t s , t r a g e d i e s . But
when she i s making i t up, we w i l l be a b le to enjoy th e happy
outcome. Morgan p o in ts o u t t h a t "The endings are p re s e n te d no t
j u s t as f o r t u i t o u s but as v i r t u a l l y a joke." For, "There a re a s
many ways of bringing about marriages as there are true loves. And
quite often the means are as d e lig h tfu lly d isorderly as a robber in
1 1
th e p o u ltr y house" or an i n t e r f e r i n g r e l a t i v e . We can acco u n t
for the cen tra l importance of these "jokes" by looking a t Austen's
a t t i t u d e to ends and f i n a l i t y , o r a t l e a s t th e most c o n c lu s iv e o f
them.
Austen does n o t p r e s e n t h er ends as f i n a l l y c l i m a t i c or as
completed conclusions because such ends become d ea th -lik e , lik e the
long years of Maria Ward's marriage to S ir Thomas Bertram. Let us
look a t A usten's tr e a t m e n t o f d e a th . In th e n o v e ls, i t i s a l l
r i g h t to th in k of m o r t a l i t y and th e perm anent passage o f tim e as
irre p la c e a b le , because th a t i s what gives the moments of our liv es
i n t e n s i t y . But i t i s no t good to s p e c u la te on o t h e r s ' d e a th s ,
161
because th a t is an unworthy way of wondering how everything w ill
come out f o r o n e s e lf . We cannot know our f a t e u n t i l a l l is o ver,
f o r o u r s e lv e s or o th e r s . G eneral T iln ey reck o n s on Mr. A lle n 's
death, but Eleanor Tilney and her charming young man do not think
of those unexpected deaths which w ill transform th a t charming young
man i n to a v is c o u n t. Mrs. Bennet, Mr. C o l l i n s , and th e Lucases
ponder over when Mr. Bennet w ill die, and readers may even wonder
whether Mrs. Bennet w ill o u tlive her spouse a f t e r a l l . Tom Bertram
c o u n ts on how Dr. G rant w i l l "soon pop o f f , " w h ile Mary Crawford
j e s t s about b r ib in g a p h y s ic ia n to k i l l o f f Tom h i m s e l f . Frank
Churchill t r i e s not to think of what i t w ill take for him to marry
Jane F a ir f a x , but Mrs. C h u rc h ill must d ie to a llo w i t ; Edward
F e r r a r s ' f i r s t engagem ent was based on th e same s o r t o f fla w , he
and Lucy have never discussed i t , but they are lim ited to waiting
f o r h i s m o th e r's d e a th , an o p tio n E lin o r Dashwood c a l l s "a
melancholy and shocking extremity." (SS 148) Emma Woodhouse and
George Knightley s p e c ific a lly work out th e ir plans so th a t they can
m arry w ith o u t w a itin g f o r h e r f a t h e r to d ie . But W illiam E l l i o t
c a l c u l a t e s ab o u t S ir W a lte r's d ying, and even p l o t s to keep him
u n m arried u n t i l he does i t . For Austen, such s p e c u la tio n s are
m is d ir e c te d . There a r e q u e s tio n s which have no an sw ers because
th ey end l i f e , o r w i l l be answ ered only a f t e r we have used up a
g r e a t p a r t o f our own. The p o in t i s sim p ly t h a t th e f u tu r e i s
open. Ends do not transform or tra n s fix liv e s, or even e s ta b lis h a
single meaning for them.
162
In C hapter 1 I looked a t th e e x p lo r a tio n o f lo v e, and in
C hapter 2 th e r e l a t i o n to s e l f t h a t A usten's books s o r t o u t. But
another c e n tra l problem of being a liv e is the r e la tio n to g e ttin g
what one has w anted, to having one's dreams come tr u e . This is
problematic even ap art from Oscar Wilde's "two tragedies": "One is
1 ?
not g e ttin g what one wants, and the other is to get i t . " ,£- Having
hopes realized ra ise s the whole question of whether we believe th a t
what is called "success" crowns a l l honest human endeavor, and some
d is h o n e s t as w e ll. C e r ta in ly Morgan has p o in te d out how o f te n
A usten's " n o t-n ic e c h a r a c t e r s " come to good ends, in some l i g h t s
b e tte r than the main characters themselves. "The punishments are
only th o se o f l i v i n g w ith o n e s e l f — and few s u f f e r much from
t h a t . " 13
But the question of whether a r t i s t s ought to l e t women a t ta in
th e i r hopes has another significance as w ell. I t i s linked to how
able people are to envision women's liv e s as strong, as competent,
a s s u r v i v i n g - - a s opposed to a l l th e p i c t u r e s we g e t o f women as
v ictim s, dead, starved, and defeated. One question fem inists have
asked i s w hether t h i s c u l t u r e 's a r t i s t s can bear to c o n ju re
p ic tu re s of so-called successful women. Perhaps we can say th a t we
look to f e m in i s t a r t to a c co m p lish two th in g s . One i s to w r i te
about women as we are, to show what we s u ffe r, how squashed women's
l i v e s can be by ty ra n n y . Often such works end in d e f e a t or d eath
f o r a fem ale p r o t a g o n i s t , or even the su c c e ss of dying in a good
cause. But th a t other i s surely to o ffe r images which show women
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as unquestionably triumphant in a good cause, images of women who
can do well.
However, as I have argued, t h e r e can be a problem w ith
p o r t r a y a l s o f su c c e ss f o r women because such p i c t u r e s may be
c o n s e rv a tiv e as w e ll as r e v o l u ti o n a r y ; th ey o fte n verge on th o se
p ic tu re s of p erfection Austen deplores, with the g u ilt th a t e ith e r
any woman can achieve success i f she only t r i e s , or the e x c lu siv ity
th a t no one but th is exemplary heroine can do i t . In fa c t, I want
to argue th at the sterotype of "woman as triumphant" turns out to
be m erely th e f l i p s id e o f th e "woman as v i c t i m ," as Samuel
R ich ard so n ’s Pamela and C l a r i s s a can p erh ap s show us. A usten’s
progressiveness is th a t she sees beyond th is dualism, too. Instead
o f f l a t a s se s sm e n ts o f woman as triu m p h a n t or woman as v i c t i m ,
Austen o f f e r s us what I w i l l c a l l "women w ith hope." Hers a re
im ages we can c a r ry w ith us as we s tr u g g l e to c o n tin u e l i v i n g in
s p ite of oppression or v i c t i m i z a t i o n — th ey r e p r e s e n t n o t ends we
s t r i v e f o r , but th e f e e l i n g o f h o p e fu ln e ss which can i n s p i r e
e f f o r ts to work on toward an unfinished future.
The w onder o f A u s t e n ’s e n d i n g s i s t h a t t h r o u g h t h e i r
suspension of our expectations o f fo rm a l c lim a x e s , th ey a c t u a l l y
accomplish both of the aims which I claimed for fem in ist fic tio n .
Their "hinged" qu ality divides f u lf illm e n t from a necessary glory
p r o v i n g th e r i g h t e o u s n e s s o f o n e 's work and l i f e , showing
attainm ent instead as anything but an automatic connection between
d e s ir e and a tta in m e n t. Her f i n a l p i c t u r e s do no t u n d e r e s tim a te
164
what women s u f f e r . But th ey do n o t show women dead or drowned,
d e s p a ir in g or d e fe a te d . Austen g iv e s us p i c t u r e s o f women happy
and s tr o n g , bu t a ls o l e t s us know t h a t th e h a p p in e ss o f such ends
i s not g u a ra n te e d to women. In f a c t , ends are no t g u a ra n te e d a t
a l l . A usten’s ends r e p r e s e n t an ongoingness t h a t can help us
im agine our l i v e s as happy and th e re b y h elp to make them so, even
though they continue beyond or without the "true love" which ends
Mansfield Park.
Recent s o c i o l o g i c a l re a d in g s i n t e r p r e t A usten's c l o s i n g s by
r e l y in g on e a sy , to o -o b v io u s , h i s t o r i c a l g e n e r a l i z a t i o n s , th u s
lim itin g th e ir questions about what Austen's cease-points can mean.
With impressive conformity readers echo each other. McDonnell asks
"why end a bildungsrom an w ith m a rria g e ? " only to answ er t h a t
"choice of a marriage p artner i s the only r e a lly s ig n ific a n t choice
14
th a t an early nineteenth-century woman could exercise in l i f e . " 1
To M i l l e r , A usten's them e i s c o n t i n u a l l y t h a t "M arriag e, th e
q u e s tio n of whom to m arry, i s th e most c r i t i c a l d e c is io n o f a
woman's l i f e . " 1^ Moers a rg u e s t h a t to Austen "the only a c t o f
1 ft
ch o ic e in a young woman's l i f e " i s "the making o f a m a rria g e ,"
and Poovey a rg u es t h a t in A usten's f i c t i o n "m arriag e i s c r u c i a l
v
because i t is the only accessib le form of s e lf - d e f in itio n for g i r l s
in her society."1" ^ One problem with these sociological approaches
i s sim p ly t h e i r la c k o f in fo r m a tio n . C h ris to p h e r Kent draws
a t t e n t i o n to how o f te n condescending a s s e s s m e n ts o f Austen a re
founded on an inadequate knowledge of Austen's tim e.1® But even he
165
reduces the p o s s i b i l i t ie s of meaning in Austen when he argues th a t
•'Jane Austen's novels are not about h isto ry , not the self-conscious
s u b s t i t u t e s f o r , or r i v a l s to i t . They a re th e m se lv e s th e very
evidence of i t . " 1^ More serio u sly , these approaches continue the
old c r i t i c a l tru is m t h a t "A usten's works r e f l e c t r a t h e r than
Of)
make."tu Too often, a l l they r e f l e c t i s the p o l i t i c a l bias, so cia l
persp ectiv e, or h i s t o r i c a l view of the c r i t i c , not of the novel.
For a l l the current in te r e s t in c u ltu ra l context, readings of
Austen's work have been flawed by e rro rs about the c la ss s tru c tu re
in England during the early nineteenth century. Context is tru ly
im portant for understanding the p o l i t i c s of Austen's fic tio n , but
i t i s e s s e n t i a l t h a t we g e t our f a c t s c o r r e c t . The b e l i e f , f o r
instance, th a t the happy ending of Pride and Prejudice embodies a
union betw een th e a r i s t o c r a c y and m iddle c l a s s 21 shows an
in a d e q u a te knowledge o f A usten’s p e rio d . Monaghan s t a t e s t h a t
Elizabeth Bennet is firm ly located in a world of le ss e r
gentry and bourgeoisie. Her fa th e r owns a small e s ta te
w orth £2000 per annum, h e r m other i s th e d a u g h te r o f an
a t t o r n e y , and h er u n c le , Mr. G a rd in e r, i s in tra d e .
Darcy on th e o th e r hand, belongs to th e noble de Bourgh
fam ily. 22
I f Monaghan th in k s the Bennets l e s s e r g e n try on £2000 per y e a r,
what must he conclude about Elinor and Edward, Fanny and Edmund, or
even Anne and h e r F re d e ric k ? The Bennet e s t a t e i s not s m a ll, but
equivalent to Colonel Brandon's; Monaghan's view resembles th a t of
M arianne Dashwood, who c a l l s a £2000 y e a r ly income only "a
166
com petence.” (SS 91) E lin o r sees £1000 as " w e a lth .” A usten's
ideas are not so m agnificent, or so greedy.
But the more s e r io u s e r r o r i s the ex a g g e ra te d d i s t i n c t i o n
betw een E liz a b e th 's fa m ily and Mr. Darcy’s. Mr. Darcy does n o t
belong to the de Bourgh f a m ily , and, f u rth e r m o re , th e de Bourgh
fam ily is not noble. The only nobleperson or a r is to c r a t in th e ir
f a m ily i s Mr. D arcy's u n c le , Lady C a th e r in e 's b r o th e r , th e e a r l ,
who i s a F i t z w i l l i a m . Lady C a th e r in e 's t i t l e i s h onorary o n ly ,
giv en to h er and th e l a t e Lady Anne Darcy because th ey were the
o f f s p r i n g o f an e a r l . Lady C a th e r in e 's husband, S ir Lewis de
Bourgh, had been only a knight lik e S ir William Lucas, and however
much Lady C a th e rin e may want to d i l a t e upon th e Darcys and de
Bourghs, they remain only "ancient, though u n title d fam ilies." (PP
356) To e rro n e o u s ly em phasize th e c l a s s d i s t i n c t i o n betw een
E liz a b e th and Mr. Darcy i s to read A usten's novel through the
sn o b b ish p e r s p e c tiv e o f Lady C a th e rin e or C a ro lin e B in g le y — no t
through the context of the time. I t would be ju s t as misleading to
suggest th a t the naval characters in Persuasion are not gentlemen,
o r t h a t th ey r e p r e s e n t a new form o f hum anity opposed to old
versions. W e need only remember Admiral Crawford of Mansfield Park
to discount th a t.
Again and a g a in , readers* la c k o f r e s p e c t f o r women's l i v e s
te n d s to be blamed on Austen. Of many exam ples, a c l a s s i c
s ta te m e n t may be Edmund W ilso n 's amazement t h a t a s u b je c t which
seems boring to him could contain such i n te r e s t and sig n ifican ce:
.167
That th is s p i r i t [the s p i r i t of c la s s ic a l comedy] should
have embodied i t s e l f in England in the mind of a w e l l -
bred s p i n s t e r . . . who found h e r s u b j e c t s m ainly in th e
problems of young provincial g i r l s looking fo r husbands,
seems one of the most freakish of the many anomalies of
English l i t e r a r y h i s t o r y .
In th e 1980’s Kirkham v a l i a n t l y l o c a t e s f e m i n i s t meaning in the
m essages o f A usten’s n o v e ls , but c h a r a c t e r i z e s them as ’’working
w ithin the conventions of the domestic comedy which had become the
s p e c i a l s t r e n g t h of woman n o v e l i s t s . ’’ We a re a s su re d t h a t ’’she
enlarges i t s scope so th a t i t c a rrie s philosophical and p o litic a l
resonance fa r beyond i t s surface meaning."^ But I believe th a t we
need not a p o lo g iz e fo r the s u rfa c e meaning in th e s e works. I
su g g e st in s t e a d t h a t A usten’s books te a c h us how to tak e women's
concerns seriously. W e do not know what we would be lik e without
the p a tria rc h a l values or our culture. But u n t i l we make them fade
away, we need to defend, no t sn eer a t , th e forms which women's
l i v e s ta k e . In A usten's te rm s , shopping f o r m u slin i s no l e s s
"adult” or worthy than hunting. Women do not need to grow up into
serious humanity—im ita tin g the dresscode and habits through which
contemporary men liv e. Austen shows th a t Mary Crawford adopts the
p h ilo so p h y o f th e e x i s t i n g w o rld , b e lie v in g w hatever o p in io n s
everyone e l s e h o ld s. But h e rs i s a male w o rld -v ie w , f o r i t i s a
m ale-d o m in ated w orld she r e f l e c t s . She m ir r o r s th e myths t h a t
amount only to means by which men have told th e ir s to r ie s , trying
to blame women for the losses we su ffer. Women can be misogynist
to o .
168
In American c u ltu re , tr a d itio n a l a r t finds a g reat deal of i t s
meaning by exposing women, fig u ra tiv e ly and physically. One has
only to think of Huckleberry Finn and Ethan Frome, where the i l l s
o f c i v i l i z a t i o n a re lo c a te d in fem ale v o ic e s . T h eir r e s p e c t i v e
l a s t l i n e s can show t h i s ; Finn e x p la in s why he i s le a v in g a g a in :
"Aunt S a lly sh e 's going to adopt me and s i v i l i z e me and I c a n 't
stand i t . I been there before." Of Ethan we are told,
And I say, i f she'd ha' d ie d , Ethan m ight ha' l i v e d ; and
the way they are now, I don't see th ere's much difference
between the Fromes up a t the farm and the Fromes down in
th e g ra v e y a rd ; 'c e p t t h a t down th e r e th e y 'r e a l l q u i e t ,
and the women have got to hold th e ir tongues.
As we know, a woman w ro te th e l a t t e r n o v e l, and Austen shows us
th a t she is aware of the pressure to create what condemns women in
order to seek the applause of a male audience. Emma does exactly
th a t, and is l a t e r "not quite easy" about i t . "She doubted whether
she had not transgressed the duty of woman by woman, in betraying
h e r s u s p ic io n s of Jane F a i r f a x 's f e e l i n g s to Frank C h u r c h ill. I t
was hardly rig h t." (E 231)
At t h i s moment Emma i s unable f u l l y to r e a l i z e the harm she
has done because she i s so p le a s e d by Frank C h u r c h ill's ready
b e l i e f , f e e l i n g t h a t "h is su b m issio n to a l l t h a t she t o l d , was a
compliment to her penetration" making " it d i f f i c u l t fo r her to be
q u ite c e r t a i n t h a t she ought to h a v e " (231) rem ained s i l e n t about
Jane. Emma's in s u lt to Miss Bates i s simply an extension of th is .
Austen shows th a t Caroline Bingley, Isa b e lla Thorpe, Mary Crawford,
and Augusta Elton are adept a t making fun o f and c r i ti c i z i n g women.
169
This passes as entertainm ent, and most often, a r t —and the reaction
to such " p e n e t r a t i o n ” i s alw ays f l a t t e r i n g to the maker. To look
a t A usten's n o v els in h e r own te rm s i s to re c o g n iz e t h a t she sees
women's liv e s as p o l i t i c a l . Ignorance of th is simple tru th has led
to much m i s c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n of h e r n o v e ls. The f i r s t s te p in
o ffering a p o l i t i c a l reading of Austen is to cease assuming what we
believe Austen credibly could have done, and explore instead what
she a c tu a lly did make.
• * • • *
Austen's fu lf illm e n ts ask what i t means when a p rotagonist's
dreams come true. And the question, though hardly so cio lo g ical, is
c e rta in ly p o l i t i c a l . I f , as we saw with C harlotte Lucas, marriage
i s no t seen as s o lv in g a woman's r e l a t i o n to l i f e , what are the
ends t h a t m a tte r? Are ends p o s s ib le ? I f n o t, what a re th e
beginnings, the sources of joy where Austen locates worth? These
outcomes i n v i t e us to wonder what we want f o r th e c h a r a c t e r s we
have followed so sym pathetically; th a t e n ta ils searching out what
we want f o r o u r s e lv e s . This i s tr u e both because she d r a m a tiz e s
how fic tio n s dominate the liv e s of Catherine Morland and Marianne
Dashwood, j u s t as C h a r lo tte Lucas l i v e s a c c o rd in g to c u l t u r a l
myths. But more, i t is true because of the sp ecial n a rra tiv e tie s
she has made betw een us and th e lead c h a r a c t e r s . I t i s l o g i c a l
t h a t she w ould make us q u e s t i o n w h at we d ream o f f o r th e
170
p r o t a g o n i s t , and how we a re connected to our own hopes f o r
happiness.
Readers* d i s l i k e o f th e a n t i - c l i m a c t i c n a tu re o f A usten’s
c lim a x e s p erh ap s ig n o re s how such r e a l i z a t i o n s w i l l become an
e s s e n t i a l tro p e o f th e n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y E n g lish n o v el. "What
th e s e prolonged f i n a l e s su g g e st i s t h a t p a r a d is e in n i n e t e e n t h -
century B ritish f ic tio n i s , in essence, a n t i - c li m a c t i c ." ^ Morgan
can also help us to understand Austen’s emphasis on the c o n tin u ity
ra th e r than on the f in a l i t y of her endings, for she discusses how
p a r a d is e t r u l y i s th e 'w reck o f p a r a d i s e , ’ t h a t th e
f i c t i o n s we c r e a te and c a l l r e a l i s t i c have t h e i r own
i l l u s i o n s o f c o m p le te n e ss which we must re c o g n iz e as
i llu s io n s , i f only by re c a llin g another time. Heaven on
e a r t h i s f u l l o f memory and r e g r e t , f o r a more i n t e n s e
l i f e , a m ore p a i n f u l , a nLQre b e a u t i f u l , and m ost
im portant, a d iff e r e n t world.
Many readers have m isin terp reted Austen’s b e lie f in the ongoingness
of clim a c tic moments as something conservative, as a re sista n c e to
change. But when she rem inds us t h a t th e e n d in g s, f i n a l e s ,
c e s s a t i o n s , c o n c lu s io n s , c e a s e p o in ts , c u t - o f f s , do no t f i n i s h
anything except the number of pages, th a t " t e l l - t a l e compression of
th e pages" which may end our "a n x ie ty " ab o u t th e le a d c h a r a c t e r s '
f u t u r e s , bu t no t our fond im a g in in g s. And in fo r m a tio n l i k e Mr.
D arcy's b e l i e f t h a t E liz a b e th had been w ish in g and e x p e c tin g h i s
f i r s t a d d re s s e s or t h a t Henry T iln e y 's aw areness o f C a th e rin e 's
a ffe c tio n had f i r s t a ttra c te d him, draws us back to re-read. Our
c h a lle n g e i s how to d e s c r ib e som ething which ends a p ro c e ss b u t
171
makes us imagine both beyond toward the fu tu re, and re-experience
the book i t s e l f .
Some so rt of loss graces a l l the Austen visions of the future
to i n t e n s i f y our p i c t u r e o f i t . I f Hr. Darcy w i l l have to put up
with the spectre of Mr. Wickham as b ro th er-in -law , Elizabeth w ill
have to endure the physical presence of Caroline Bingley and Lady
Catherine; Elinor must su ffe r Lucy and Robert Ferrars. Catherine
and Henry ag onize th ro u g h months o f su sp e n se , " d re a d fu l d e la y s"
which th ey a re not " e s s e n t i a l l y h u r t by," (NA 252) b u t Anne and
Frederick Wentworth have lo s t eight years and a h alf. Many readers
have been p a r t i c u l a r l y haunted by the lo s s t h a t M aria Bertram
Rushworth represents, and Edmund w ill have to liv e with a c e rta in
amount o f q u ite d eserv ed s e l f - r e p r o a c h and r e g r e t . Emma, to o ,
s u f f e r s such r e p e n ta n c e , and h e r l o y a l t y to H a r r i e t and sen se o f
r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r th e younger woman's p a in w i l l l i m i t h er
communications to George K nightley. But Austen makes c l e a r t h a t
t h i s lo s s i s c e n t r a l l y human, t h a t "seldom , very seldom" does
completeness belong to human events. But, Austen says, " i t may not
be very m a t e r ia l." (E 431) In c o m p le te n e ss , and th e c e l e b r a t o r y
feelin g s of recognition which Austen evokes about i t , are c ru c ia l
to her o rig in a l and su rp risin g paradises.
To d is c u s s how A usten's n o v els c u lm in a te and c e a s e , we must
p e rc e iv e A usten's tu r n in g p o in ts f o r what they a re . I have not
called them "proposal scenes," because what happens in them is not
t h a t women are asked to m arry someone e l s e . Such term s o v e r
172
emphasize male c h a ra c te r’s a c t i v i t y . I c a l l them " f u l f i l l m e n t s "
because the man’s avowal o f love in fo rm s the main c h a r a c t e r t h a t
she i s beloved by th e p erso n she lo v e s. M arriage i s only th e
l o g i c a l c o n c lu s io n o f such an u n d e rs ta n d in g , and i s u s u a lly no t
discussed u n t i l la te r . For Austen's c e n t r a l c h a r a c t e r s , m a rria g e
in i t s e l f i s not the o b je c t in th e way i t i s fo r Mr. C o llin s , Mr.
Crawford, Mr. Elton, or the early Mr. Darcy.
When the f u lfillm e n t scenes su rp rise us by refusing to r e c ite
word by word, gasp by gasp, the avowals of love between her lovers,
they a l t e r our re la tio n to the center of the novels. They allow us
to p a rtic ip a te in , th a t i s , imagine about the happy endings in more
th an one way. We must r e j o i c e over them as r e a d e r s , n o t j u s t
would-be heroines, involved in a fic tio n which does not choose to
e s t a b l i s h c o n v e n tio n s fo r what the p e r f e c t words o f f u l f i l l m e n t
a r e . We must laugh a t and w ith our own w ish es to h ear th e w ords,
discovering th a t we re a lly do know what words are u ttered. When we
h ear t h a t E liz a b e th "gave him to u n d e rs ta n d , t h a t h er s e n tim e n ts
had undergone so m a t e r i a l a change, s in c e the p e rio d to which he
a l lu d e d , as to make h e r r e c e iv e w ith g r a t i t u d e and p le a s u re h i s
p r e s e n t a s s u r a n c e s ," (PP 366) we must be amused as w e ll as moved.
In fa c t, here and in a l l the other fu lf illm e n ts , there is probably
no need for more than a stammered sy lla b le "Yes," or "No," for "No,
ray feelin g s are not what they were l a s t April," and a single look.
Even i f th e r e i s more, we know what the words "I love you" a re .
A usten’s p o in t i s not t h a t i t does not m a tte r what th e s p e c i f i c
173
words a r e , but what m a t t e r s most i s t h a t we want to im agine them
and t h e i r moment. In each of th e s ix n o v e ls , A usten’s method of
d e s c r ib in g th e avowal scene may a t f i r s t seen to s l u r or s k ip i t
o v er, bu t what i t r e a l l y does i s to f i x i t more f u l l y in our
i m a g in a tio n , f o r we must have more th an one r e l a t i o n to i t . We
must be more than a vicarious protagonist. W e are asked to wonder
ab o u t what we want in th e c lim ax o f th e f i c t i o n s which e n t e r t a i n
u s, and what we w ant, as w e ll, f o r th e l i v e s a p a r t which we c a l l
r e a l.
A usten's n o v e ls do no t l e t us f o r g e t t h a t we a re re a d in g a
book, th a t we are being en tertain ed by f ic tio n s invented by someone
e lse , not by our own hidden and now-revealed l i f e . But to remember
t h i s i s to r e a l i z e how, even in th e a r e a s e x t e r n a l to our re a d in g
of her books, we are connected to what i s outside ourselves through
im a g in a tiv e s t r u c t u r e s . Even our sense o f our own l i v e s i s
comprised of f ic tio n s we in h e r it or make up ourselves. That is why
Austen's fu lfillm e n ts collapse the d is tin c tio n between te llin g and
showing. Wayne Booth rem inds us t h a t " t e l l i n g " a s much as
"showing" can a c tu a lly c o n s titu te the "action" of a work,^^ and we
need to ask why readers have been re lu c ta n t to apply th is tru th to
A usten's f u l f i l l m e n t s . When such a tro p e as th e v e i l i n g o f th e
p r o t a g o n i s t 's d e c l a r a t i o n o f love i s so re p e a te d th ro u g h o u t the
n o v e ls , I th in k we must f i r s t ask w hether th e v e i l m ight do
a n y th in g which adds to th e c o n s tr u c t i o n and e f f e c t o f th e p ie c e
174
b e fo re we h a s t i l y conclude t h a t i t was i n s p i r e d by i t s a u t h o r ’s
defects of character.
Austen’s n arratio n of her fu lfillm e n ts is not an in te rru p tio n
or a t e l l i n g i n s t e a d o f show ing, bu t an i n t e n s i f i c a t i o n o f our
p a rtic ip a tio n , and an a lte rn a te subject for showing. The subject
becomes our conscious re la tio n to the im aginative action instead of
our being l o s t in A usten’s c r e a t i o n . But th e myth i s t h a t
som ething r e a l l y momentous happens u n d e rn e a th th e v e i l , which
Austen skips, thereby depriving us of some id eal climax. However,
do we r e a lly want to give up
I only in t r e a t every body to believe th a t exactly a t the
time when i t was quite n atu ral th a t i t should be so, and
n o t a week e a r l i e r , Edmund d id c ease to c are about Miss
Crawford, and became as anxious to marry Fanny, as Fanny
h e rs e lf could d e s ire ,? (MP 470)
Would we r e a l l y tr a d e away ’’h is f i r s t purpose was to e x p la in
h i m s e l f , and b e fo re th ey had reached Mr. A lle n ’s grounds he had
done i t so w e l l , t h a t C a th e rin e did n o t t h i n k i t could ev er be
repeated too often"? (NA 243) And what could duplicate "What did
she say?—Just what she ought, of course. A lady always does"?
At these junctures, many readers have seemed to fe e l defrauded
o f b e a u t i f u l , p o e tic w ords— p a ssa g e s d esig n e d to t h r i l l us w ith
te n d e r em otion. But th e f a c t i s t h a t Austen in s te a d draws our
a tte n tio n to how d i f f i c u l t i t i s fo r a t le a s t Elizabeth and Emma to
r e p ly to t h e i r b elo v ed s. In E l i z a b e th 's avowal scene w ith
F i t z w i l l i a m Darcy, h e r r e p ly in g i s no t easy : she "now fo rc e d
h e r s e l f to speak; and im m e d ia te ly , though n o t v ery f l u e n t l y gave
175
him to u n d e rsta n d " t h a t she lo v e s him. (PP 366) We a re asked to
celeb rate the fa c t th a t fluency is no great issue because g e ttin g
Mr. Darcy to understand is probably not so d i f f i c u l t as Elizabeth
th in k s . Mr. Darcy p ro b ab ly "u n d erstan d s" "im m e d ia te ly ." But
E liz a b e th has had tr o u b le speaking because she i s a t f i r s t "too
much em b arrassed to say a word," and only stam m ers out a r e p ly
because of her concern for Mr. Darcy’s suspense, the "all the more
than common awkwardness and a n x ie ty o f h is s i t u a t i o n . " Emma
responds much lik e Elizabeth; she too, "could re a lly say nothing,"
a t f i r s t , b e c a u s e she f e e l s so s u r p r i s e d and b e c a u s e " th e
e x p r e s s io n o f h i s eyes overpow ered h er." (E 430) But when Emma
does f i n a l l y t a l k , "on being so e n tr e a te d " by Mr. K n ig h tle y , she
m erely " sa id enough to show t h e r e need not be d e s p a i r — and to
in v ite him to say more himself." (431) W e must laugh to discover
th a t Emma’s o bject, n a tu ra lly enough, i s not to be eloquent h e rs e lf
but to hear more about Mr. Knightley’s affectio n .
Like her s i s t e r pro tag o n ists, Anne cannot speak, prevented by
the presence of Charles Musgrove. But for her there is no need to
t a l k . Her m erely lo o k in g a t F re d e ric k W entworth speaks f o r h er.
Even so, she must "command h e r s e l f enough" to be a b le to look a t
him. But th e w o rd le ss n e ss o f t h e i r u n d e rsta n d in g can h e lp to
explain the handling of the other three fu lfillm e n t scenes. Henry
Tilney "perhaps" already knows what C a th e r in e ’s f e e l i n g s w i l l be.
E lin o r knows why Edward has come, and h e r em otion r e v e a ls her
knowledge to him. "In what manner he expressed him self, and how he
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was r e c e iv e d , need n o t be p a r t i c u l a r l y to ld ." (SS 361) As f o r
Fanny, Edmund's l e a r n in g to love h er i s so " n a tu r a l" t h a t we must
a l l invent our own tim etable for how soon i t happens. Once th a t is
t r u e , " i t was no t p o s s ib le t h a t encouragem ent from h e r should be
long wanting." (MP 471)
Fluency becomes th e n a r r a t o r 's own co n cern , in s te a d o f h e r
ch aracters'. She creates as an issue whether any rendering can do
j u s t i c e to her p r o t a g o n i s t s ' p r iv a te joy. Her e x p re s s io n , when
f i r s t discussing Elinor a f t e r the avowals have been made, is "But
E l i n o r — How are h e r f e e l i n g s to be d e s c rib e d ? " (SS 363) The
n a r r a t o r makes a v a l i a n t e f f o r t to p o r tr a y th e s u c c e s s io n of
E l i n o r 's em o tio n s, but w ith Fanny she w aives the p o s s i b i l i t y
a l t o g e t h e r : "Let no one presume to g iv e th e f e e l i n g s o f a young
woman on receiving the assurance of th a t a ffe c tio n of which she has
scarcely allowed h e rs e lf to e n te rta in a hope." This i s "happiness"
"which no d e s c r i p t i o n can reach ." (MP 471) The n a r r a t o r spurns
g l i b g e n e r a l i z a t i o n s or easy eloquence ab o u t th e s e moments or
women's experience. I t is th a t in te r e s t in what cannot be ju s tly
d e s c rib e d which A usten's r e a d e rs a re ta u g h t to enjoy in h er
fu lf illm e n ts .
But th e is s u e re m a in s, why draw a t t e n t i o n away from such
tender scenes to the action of the n a rra to r, to the acknowledgment
th a t we already know or, i f not, should imagine for ourselves what
i s good? W e can say th a t one reason for Austen not to show e ith e r
the obvious or the outcome of h e a r t f e l t questioning, is th a t, the
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good words, the professions of worthy sentim ents, are av ailab le to
e v e r y o n e . I s a b e l l a and John T h o rp e , Lucy S t e e l e and John
W illoughby, Mr. C o llin s and Lydia Bennet, and Henry and Mary
Craw ford, a l l c la im d eeper f e e l i n g s and g r e a t e r love than they
t r u l y devote to anyone but th e m se lv e s . More im p o rta n t i s th e
action of Austen's n a rra to r in amusing and moving us to wonder what
we want these characters to say and hear, and as c ru c ia lly , what we
o u r s e lv e s want to h ear from and say to people when we a re not
reading Austen's books. Perhaps we ought only to say th a t by being
a b le to im agine fo r o u r s e lv e s we a re asked to d ecid e what th e s e
moments should be. What f u lf illm e n t do we want? Austen has told
us the im portant part about such turning points. W e do not, unlike
Mr. C o llin s , Mr. C raw ford, and Mr. E lto n , h e a r our own eloq u en ce.
W e are too "overpowered" by rushing emotions to feel very flu e n t.
But i t does no t m a t t e r , and t h a t i s A usten's jo y f u l s u r p r i s e . In
our most moving moments, we do not need g reat words. A few gasps,
a whisper, and a look w ill su ffice.
A usten's n a r r a t o r makes i t c l e a r t h a t we a lr e a d y know what
happens in th e f u l f i l l m e n t s . I t i s more i n t e r e s t i n g to h e a r th e
n a rra to r's version of the love scenes because we already know what
s o rts of words would be spoken i f Austen had wanted to quote them,
or even decided to invent them. W e get to understand her sense of
what each union means, or p ecu liarly , how i t is achieved. Austen
o ffe rs through her v e ils ways of understanding her avowals which
connect them to the book they climax, ra th e r than simply presenting
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scenes of te n d e r n e s s t h a t we can a lr e a d y p r e d i c t . But th e
e s s e n t i a l f a c t i s , I b e l i e v e , t h a t A usten's v a r io u s p o r t r a y a l s
in te n sify our sympathy with the intimacy of these moments because
she evokes our p a r tic ip a tio n when she in sp ire s our eager wondering.
Nothing i s l o s t , but much i s e n ric h e d in th e o r i g i n a l i t y o f th e s e
f u l f i l l m e n t s . We m iss ou t on n o th in g , b u t g e t in s te a d even more
atmosphere, more inform ation about each novel they crown.
In f a c t , what i s p iq u a n t about our f a s c i n a t i o n w ith th e s e
scen es i s th e d i s t a n c e betw een our sense o f t h e i r im p o rtan ce and
the tru th of how l i t t l e our protagonists are probably able to say
in th e sp eech es Austen does no t quote. When we l i n g e r over how
E liz a b e th "gave him to u n d e rsta n d , t h a t h e r s e n tim e n ts had
undergone so m a t e r i a l a change, s in c e th e p e rio d to which he
a llu d e d , a s to make h er re c e iv e w ith g r a t i t u d e and p le a s u r e , h is
present assurances," (PP 366) we should r e a liz e th a t the point, the
r e a l so u rce o f en joym ent, i s t h a t t h i s r e p r e s e n t a t i o n i s ta k in g
many w ords, and some long ones, to com m unicate to us what only a
few sy lla b le s would intim ate. The "not very flu e n tly " h in ts a t how
Elizabeth may not fe e l sure what to say or how, but very few sounds
and seconds w i l l convey h er " g r a t i t u d e , " " p le a s u r e ," and "change"
o f f e e l i n g . E liz a b e th does n o t need to say th e s e words. Those
terms are for us.
With h er "What did she say?" Emma's n a r r a t o r poses th e
question she hears us fev erish ly demanding. But fo r Emma's avowal,
the n a rra to r s u b s titu te s these words of her own: "—Just what she
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ought o f c o u rse . A lady alw ays does." The la u g h a b le joy o f t h i s
d e s c r i p t i o n is bro u g h t i n to f a n t a s i e s o f e t i q u e t t e , o f what a
’’la d y ” "ought” to sa y , w ith th e a d d i t i o n a l p le a s u re t h a t such
e tiq u e tte also grants th a t whatever she said would in ev itab ly be
called co rrect. W e know th a t Emma has said many things she ought
n o t - - b u t h e re , n o th in g can be wrong. I t w i l l not tak e much to
e n l i g h t e n Mr. K n ig h tley and "to i n v i t e him to say more h im s e lf ."
For Emma, and for Elizabeth, hearing the beloved "express him self"
i s enough. This tro p e c u lm in a te s in th e mode o f P e r s u a s io n 's
tu r n in g p o in t, where Anne's r e p ly i s com pressed, o r no, expanded,
to a n o t - r e p u l s i v e look. That, f i n a l l y , i s a l l i t ta k e s to l e t
someone else know th a t he or she is loved.
A usten's f u l f i l l m e n t s a l l c a r ry a f e e l i n g o f re u n io n r a t h e r
th an mere u nion, because the c h a r a c t e r s must know each o th e r so
th o ro u g h ly in o rd e r to love so d eep ly . That i s a ls o why th e
culm inations of Pride and Prejudice and, esp e c ia lly , Persuasion are
c r a f t e d as a c t u a l re u n io n s. This s o r t o f union does n o t mash two
people in to one, but is the reunion of two people who have learned
to c a re f o r each o th e r . Such a f e e l i n g em phasizes d i s t i n c t n e s s
as opposed to Mr. C o l l i n s 's a p p r o p r ia tio n o f C h a r lo tte Lucas fo r
h is own u s e s , and h e r a p p r o p r i a t i o n o f him f o r h e rs . What we can
n o tic e i s t h a t th e s e moments o f f i r s t u nion, which f e e l l i k e
reunions, emphasize people's singleness, th e ir separate needs a p a rt
from each o th e r , because t h i s i s th e b eg in n in g o f t h e i r knowing
each o th e r much more f u l l y , o f t r a v e l i n g ab o u t t o g e th e r l i k e th e
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Gardiners and the Crofts. The future is the place of union; now is
for an exchange of and comparison of sentim ents. As Catherine and
Henry's moment shows us, th is exchange w ill carry on every day, but
never a g a in w ith p eople f e e l i n g so s e p a r a te from , o r perhaps a
b e tte r phrase is te n ta tiv e w ith, each other. Married, they remain
s in g l e p e o p le , but s in g l e people who know some one o th e r person
very w ell. But now i s the period for a newly-created intimacy.
For Anne, a look w i l l e s t a b l i s h h e r re u n io n w ith F re d e ric k
Wentworth, "Anne could command h e rs e lf enough to receive th a t look,
and n o t r e p u l s i v e l y . ” (P 239-240) Our la u g h te r and joy r e s t in
how we would never have dreamed of comparing Anne's acceptance to a
repulse, because we have so f a ith f u lly followed her fervent hopes
f o r t h i s outcome. Yet we now do i t , and im agine a ls o th e
tenderness of th a t glimpsed exchange. Anne's makes the v e ilin g of
the other three fu lfillm e n ts more understandable.
Those of Elinor and Fanny focus on Edward and Edmund because
they are the lovers who have been attached to others. In Sense and
S e n s ib ility 's d escrip tio n of i t s reunion, we are en tertain ed by the
f a c t t h a t "in what manner he e x p re sse d h i m s e l f , and how he was
r e c e iv e d , need n o t be p a r t i c u l a r l y to ld ." (SS 361) We laugh and
enjoy th e t r u t h t h a t th e moment o f re u n io n i s n o t needed, t h a t
"This only need be s a id ," t h a t "when th ey a l l s a t down to t a b l e a t
fo u r o 'c lo c k , ab o u t t h r e e hours a f t e r h i s a r r i v a l , " he i s "one o f
the h a p p ie s t o f men." (361) We are s a t i s f i e d in th e im p o rta n t
point, th a t Elinor has had three hours with him to ta lk and try to
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u n d e rsta n d th e e v e n ts which have fre e d him. In M an sfield Park,
Edmund has more to overcome, but the n a rra to r jo y fu lly asks "what
could be more n a t u r a l th an th e change?" With h e r ep ig ram s about
how "the cure o f u nconquerable p a s s io n s , and the t r a n s f e r of
unchanging a tta c h m e n ts , must vary much as to tim e in d i f f e r e n t
p e o p le ," Austen i n v e r t s our norm al h ig h -flo w n language about
romance, to show th a t what i s never true i s always possible, with
the single caveat th a t i t merely takes a d iffe re n t length of time
with d iffe re n t people. The focus changes from the moment i t s e l f to
o v e r tu rn in g what i s s a id to be im p o s s ib le b u t happens every day,
"at exactly the time when" we agree th a t " i t was quite natu ral th a t
i t should be so, and no t a week e a r l i e r . " Austen "p u rp o sely
a b s t a i n t s ] from d a te s , . . . t h a t every one may be a t l i b e r t y to
f i x t h e i r own." (470) The reu n io n i s f u l f i l l e d as soon as we
think i t i s , as soon as we stop believing in standard truism s about
lo v e .
C a t h e r i n e 's jo y o u s f u l f i l l m e n t i n N o rthanger Abbey is
c e le b r a te d through Henry. "Some e x p la n a tio n on h is f a t h e r 's
acco u n t had he to g iv e ; b u t h is f i r s t purpose was to e x p la in
h im self, and before they reached Mr. Allen's grounds he had done i t
so w ell, th a t Catherine did not think i t could ever be repeated too
o f te n ." (243) C a th e rin e does no t have E l i n o r 's th r e e h o u rs. I t
a l l happens in a s h o r t walk. But t h e r e i s a s p e c i a l beau ty in
th i s early fu lfillm e n t. What other f ic tio n s portray as a once-in-
a - lif e tim e event is transformed in to a daily happiness which can
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n e v e r be r e p e a t e d to o o f t e n . H enry i s n o t " p r o p o s i n g ” to
Catherine, although marriage is the lo g ic a l im plication. "She was
a s s u re d o f h i s a f f e c t i o n , " th e n a r r a t o r t e l l s u s, and such a
c o n f irm a tio n i s moving because o f i t s s u r p r i s e , i t s c o n t r a s t to
C a t h e r i n e 's s e n s e o f h i s f e e l i n g s , h e r f o r e b o d i n g s o f h i s
r e s i g n a t i o n to h e r d e p a r tu re . But we a ls o enjoy h e a rin g about
th e s e r e c o n c i l i a t i o n s when th e y a re a lm o st u n n e c e ssa ry , when
ch aracters know each other so well th a t they are already aware of
each o t h e r s ' a f f e c t i o n . That i s th e h a p p in e ss o f E lin o r and
Edward. And i t is a very short leap from Henry Tilney's confidence
t h a t C a th e rin e lo v e s him to Anne E l l i o t ' s f a i t h t h a t F re d e ric k
W entworth s t i l l c a r e s f o r h e r. As we have seen , by P e rs u a s io n ,
t h e r e i s no lo n g e r any need f o r a p r o ta g o n is t to fin d words o f
reply: a not-rep u lsiv e look w ill do. Then, "The cheeks which had
been pale now glowed, and the movements which had h e sita te d were
d e c id e d . He walked by h e r s id e ." (240) There w i l l be no want o f
words and e x p la n a tio n s , m emories and av o w als, to f o llo w . But in
the c e n tra l moment of reunion, words become even extraneous.
For Anne and C ap tain W entworth, "the power o f c o n v e r s a tio n
would make the present hour a blessing indeed; and prepare for i t
a l l the im m ortality which the happiest re c o lle c tio n s of th e i r own
future liv e s could bestow." The reunion is a f le e tin g moment, not
a c lim a c tic one. But th a t moment w ill retu rn to be immortalized
f o r them. That i s the a p p r o p r ia te f i c t i o n o f th e s e moments, and
they are the best view ers, the c re a to rs , who revive these feelings.
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W e are allowed to celeb rate how th is moment does not end here, but
w i l l be r e l iv e d as long as they l i v e . The a f t e r m a t h s o f A usten's
re u n io n s a re a c t u a l l y p i c t u r e s of f u tu r e h a p p in e s s: "and w ith
C ap tain W entworth, some moments o f com m unication c o n t i n u a l l y
occurring, and always the hope of more, and always the knowledge of
h is being there!" (246) That is the everyday joy of love we feel.
I t i s wonderful to take for granted loved ones and love, where th a t
c o n f id e n t knowledge never w ears down i n t o boredom or l a x i t y of
a ffe c tio n . Such reunions, lik e Henry Tilney's avowals, w ill happen
every day and never lose th e ir brightness.
Austen u se s th e avow als, v e ile d o r n o t, w ith t h e i r v e i l e d
answering avowals to prevent us from deceiving ourselves about the
f i n a l i t y o f th e ends she p ro v id e s. The v e i l e d r e p l i e s p o in t us
ahead, tow ard f u tu r e l i v e s w ith th e tr u e lo v e s , and show us t h a t
th e id e a o f a c lim a x i s d e c e p tiv e . Austen t e l l s us t h a t we a l l
have breathtaking moments which we love to remember, but they do
not r e a lly make time stop. W e do not, as Mary Bennet would, or Mr.
C o llin s does, say "Here i s a c lim a x ," about our own l i v e s . The
very tumult and involvement of our feelin g s causes the clim actic
moment to rush p a st, as a l l Austen's fu lfillm e n ts seem to do.
Austen makes th e s e seem in g ly c e n t r a l moments sweep p a s t
b ecau se, a s I have s a id about C h a r lo tte Lucas, Austen does not
encourage us to judge our l i v e s in te rm s o f o u ts id e m a rk e rs, or
goals lik e marriage, fo r th a t causes us to a b s tra c t away from our
own feelin g s. General Tilney's "your la d y s h ip ," C h a r lo tte Lucas's
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marriage, Lydia Bennet’s d esire to take precedence over her s i s t e r s
as a married woman, S ir Walter E l l i o t ’s prejudice th a t his daughter
Mary ’’had acquired a l i t t l e a r t i f i c i a l importance, by becoming Mrs.
C h arles Musgrove," (P 5) a l l em phasize a c l i m a c t i c moment, and
th e re b y m inim ize th e im p o rtan ce o f women ex c e p t as co n nected to
men. For Austen, the fu lfillm e n ts are ongoing because they are not
proposals but avowals of love, not completed achievements but new
beginnings, and not transform ations into new s ta te s but the same
liv e s with simple happinesses added.
A usten’s em phasis i s on human, n o t i d e a l e v e n ts . Robert M.
Polhemus says of Emma th a t, ’’the a b i l i t y to see what is rid icu lo u s
and to d e v ise happy endings on e a r t h becomes the very b a s is fo r
f a ith .”2® In Austen’s culm inations, the rid icu lo u s loses i t s stin g
and becomes the joy we yearn fo r. I t becomes th e c u lm in a tio n
i t s e l f , i n t e g r a l to th e happy ending. The happy f u tu r e i s th e
place of serious joy, although i t w ill also include those blessed
moments of incongruous, happy laughter. For i t is rid icu lo u s th a t
people who love each o th e r should have to say so fo r th e f i r s t
t i m e — t h a t i s an awkward b u s in e s s . I f t h a t i s th e b e s t tim e o f
a l l , a climax of serious thankful joy never to be equalled, then an
in ju s tic e is implied to th a t future which th is time c e leb rates and
makes possible: th a t future of in te n s ifie d a ffe c tio n and deepening
a c q u a in ta n c e . I t i s th e b e g in n in g o f f u tu r e b e s t tim e s , and a s a
beginning is almost la te .
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Austen d istin g u ish es between how we commonly imagine g e ttin g
what we want as p e a c e fu l b e a t i t u d e and the r e a l w h irlw in d i t
a c t u a l l y seems. Austen c la im s such c o n te n te d b l i s s , n o t f o r our
moments o f triu m p h and s u r p r i s e , but fo r the f u tu r e and the
everyday. I t i s th e r e t h a t Henry w i l l say what he say s "so w e ll"
th a t i t can never "be repeated too often." There Anne E llio t w ill
tre asu re those "moments of com m unication c o n t i n u a l l y o c c u r rin g ,"
w ith "alw ays th e hope of more, and alw ays th e knowledge o f h is
being th e r e !" I t i s t h i s which has been l o s t th ro u g h o u t Anne’s
novel. From her early through her u ltim ate novel, Austen shows joy
no t a s a c o n s e r v a tiv e a t t a i n m e n t o f g o a l s , n o t a s " su c c e ss ," or
anything in the shoddy realm of accomplishments, but as the simple,
p r i v a t e b le s s e d n e s s o f being a b le to lo v e , o f being w ith loved
ones, and being loved in r e t u r n . But alw ays th e everyday p ro c e ss
o f i n t e r e s t in an i n t e r e s t i n g p erso n i s valued o v er c l i m a c t i c
triumphs. These im portant turning points only m atter because the
time to come means so much more.
In A usten, what i s absurd and u n b e lie v a b le i s a t h r e a t to
love. What i s believable is th a t l i f e continues through the lo ss
and d e a th which t h r e a t e n i t . A usten’s s i s t e r , C assandra Austen,
lo s t her true love, who died while a chaplain a t San Domingo. But
her l i f e and a ffe c tio n nevertheless had plenty to f i l l them. Anne
E l l i o t s t i l l had a f u l l l i f e even w ith th e lo s s which C ap tain
Wentworth i n f l i c t e d on them b o th ; but h is was a m onstrous a c t o f
s e l f - d e s t r u c t i o n , and f o r A usten, a lm o st u n b e lie v a b le . A usten's
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g i f t , her innovation, is th a t she believes th a t happiness is more
b e l i e v a b l e than i t s la c k . We a l l s u f f e r ; we a l l are a f f l i c t e d by-
l o s s . But i n t h a t c h a n g e i s o u r hope f o r a happy f u t u r e .
C ertainly, "we cannot neatly say th a t losses have com pensations."^
Loss i s re a l and may often be h o rrib le , grotesque. But th a t is not
what Austen em phasizes when asked to mark o u t, or p o r tr a y , an
imaginable future. People do sicken and nearly die lik e Marianne
Dashwood and Tom Bertram. They do su ffe r and a c tu a lly die as Mrs.
Churchill does. They are tyrannized and to rtu red by creatu res lik e
G eneral T iln e y , Mrs. N o rris , and S i r W alter E l l i o t . They are
o p p ressed l i k e Fanny P r ic e , snubbed l i k e Anne E l l i o t . W e may
su ffe r re a l misery. Other people and in s titu tio n s are often cruel,
constant in th e ir in ju s tic e and d estru ctio n of people's liv e s. But
while we are a liv e , we have f u lf illm e n ts , and in Austen's f ic tio n ,
th a t is the hope. The future i s in te re stin g .
For me, t h a t i s th e d i f f e r e n c e betw een, say , Thomas Hardy's
Far from the Madding Crowd and Tess of the d'U rbervilles. Tragedy
demands such s e lf-d e s tru c tio n , such unbelievable coincidences, such
u n w illin g n e s s to ask f i r s t fo r Angel C la r e 's love b e fo re k i l l i n g
Alec d'U rberville, th a t g re a t p a rts of Tess's fa te must be skipped
over in order to be believable. These things do happen, and i t is
worth imagining th e ir tru th . Airplanes do c o llid e , coal miners do
d ie two m ile s deep, space s h u t t l e s do blow up. But i t ta k e s
monumental h a r d h e a rte d n e s s and f l a g r a n t unconcern fo r th e s e to
o ccu r. Such l o s s e s have no recom pense. They ought n ev er to have
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happened, and in a S h e lle y a n way, th e governm ents r e s p o n s ib le
should be o v e rtu rn e d . That i s our work. But i t i s on our b e l i e f
th a t such events are a tragedy, a flaw, something which should be
u n b e lie v a b le , t h a t r e s t s our hope fo r a f u tu r e which does not
resem b le th e p a s t. A usten’s ch o ice i s to d ra m a tiz e th e r i s k , th e
f a c t s o f wrong, bad d e s t r u c t i o n , but to a ls o show the t r u t h t h a t
such things ought to be im possible, and are unbelievable. That is
the joy of the future, o f how we keep celebrating our reunions and
p led g es o f f u tu r e h a p p in e s s, where we d e serv e to be a b le to tak e
contentment for granted while trying to do some of the work which
makes i t possible for others. That is Elizabeth's friendship with
G eorgiana Darcy, Emma's c a re f o r h e r poor n e ig h b o rs , and Anne's
sympathy with Frederick Wentworth's profession.
But for n o v e lists , the issue of happy conclusions ra ise s other
q u e s tio n s . Readers demand happy en d in g s, but a f t e r w a r d s , may
d e s p is e th e m -- in th e t w e n t i e t h c e n tu ry , a t l e a s t , r e a d e r s have
respected the tra g ic end of C larissa more than the b l i s s f u l one of
Pamela. For Austen in h e r own n o v e ls fem ale s a c r i f i c e n ev er had
any a p p e a l. And t h a t i s th e p o in t o f h er f i r s t g r e a t n o v el,
N orthanger Abbey. She shows t h a t t e r r i b l e th in g s a re done to
women. But she a ls o knows t h a t im ages o f raped and dead women
become b e a u tifu l, even glamorous, to many viewers, and sometimes
seem to be th e only c irc u m s ta n c e s under which we can sy m p ath ize
with women. Austen makes p ictu re s of happy women, women who can
cope, so t h a t we can hope to be as happy, and so t h a t we can
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believe th a t happiness in women i s ju s t i f i a b l e . But she also makes
her en d in g s, th e c u lm in a tio n s which o f f e r f u tu r e h a p p in e s s,
"hinged,"—not in ev itab le. She d i s r u p t s any n e c e s s a ry c o n n e c tio n
betw een d e s e rv in g b l e s s i n g s and receiv in g them. Yet she affirm s
th a t people can always marry each other in s p ite of obstacles. And
Austen e n r ic h e s even t h i s c a te g o ry by in c lu d in g i n i t people who
are not lik e ly to make each other happy, a b e lie f "that may be bad
m o r a li t y to conclude w ith , but I b e lie v e i t to be the tr u th ."
(P 248) A usten’s n o v els su g g e st t h a t what i s i d e a l c o n s i s t s
exactly in the loss of the id e a l, in coming to reunions in our own
ways. These f ic tio n a l fu lfillm e n ts release us to be in te re ste d in
our own turning points, ra th e r than drug us in to envying ones more
p erfect than we could mimic in our le ss-o rc h e stra te d liv e s .
Austen's f u lfillm e n ts have th e ir sense of l i t t l e losses, and
t h e i r p e r f e c t im p e r f e c t i o n s , " f a u l t l e s s in s p i t e o f [ t h e i r ]
f a u l t s , " to make us re c o g n iz e them as co m p risin g e v e ry th in g
w o n d e rfu l, f o r a n o th e r re a so n . I t i s a n o th e r v e r s io n o f h er
courageous feelin g th a t "pictures of p erfectio n . . . make me sick
and wicked." Austen w i l l n ev er i n f l i c t p e r f e c t i d e a l s upon
r e a d e r s . The f u l f i l l m e n t s are no t e x p l i c i t l y drawn ou t because
they are not fo r im ita tin g . W e must make up our own liv e s , and our
r e a l l i f e a c t i v i t i e s in c lu d e d e c id in g what i s worthy o f the main
characters in these tim es, and of ourselves. Austen shows th a t we
must no t ask f o r easy a n sw e rs, t h a t more i n t e r e s t i n g q u e s tio n s
rem ain. She p o i n t s out th e i n t e r e s t o f our own p ro c e s s e s . But
189
more im portantly, we need to d istin g u ish the tru th here. Austen's
fu lf illm e n ts are fu lly e x p lic it. Only what she renders, what the
su b sta n c e o f t h a t f u l f i l l m e n t in v o lv e s , i s a p ro c e ss we and she
e x p e rie n c e w ith the p r o t a g o n i s t s . That i s what she seeks to
dram atize, and in each novel she does i t d iffe re n tly .
• • * * m
To answ er ray c e n t r a l q u e s tio n , th e f u l f i l l m e n t s a re v e i l e d
because we are not there to im ita te Elizabeth's or Emma's avowal as
Catherine seeks to im ita te The M y ste rie s o f Udolpho, or M arianne
r e c ite s sentim ental phrases. Austen's new challenge to us is how
to c r e a t e new c o n v e n tio n s — even new hopes and i d e a l s - - w i t h o u t
lo c k in g o u r s e lv e s i n to th e dead ly permanence o f p e r f e c t i o n .
Veiling the f u lf illm e n ts transform s them from an icon, a thing to
be i m i t a t e d , i n t o a p ro c e s s , a m y stery , som ething which must be
im agined to be f e l t or h e ld . We a re i n v i t e d to enjoy our own
visionary power.
And i t is the v e il i t s e l f , a c tu a lly , which turns out to be the
tru e culmination and u ltim ate f u lf illm e n t, th a t i s , the fa v o rite
image for a process which transcends u ltim a te s as soon as they are
celebrated. That is the v e il of our imagination which connects us
to what i s o u ts id e o u r s e lv e s , to what we l i v e , w h eth er A usten's
books or our own tr u e lo v e s. A usten's o r i g i n a l i t y i s t h a t she
form s a c e l e b r a t i o n of t h a t v e i l w ith a l l i t s power as the
190
u l t i m a t e , n o t an sw er, b u t dream, or p r o c e s s , in h e r a r t . When
asked, by the very n a tu r e o f f i c t i o n a l e x p e c t a t i o n s , what dreams
m a t t e r , what hopes a r e w orth r e a c h in g , A usten’s re sp o n se i s to
remind us of our own separateness or p a r tic u la rity . She reminds us
of ourselves by including us—to our su rp rise. W e laugh in shocked
r e c o g n i t i o n , b u t i t i s a la u g h o f jo y n o t j u s t f o r th e
p r o t a g o n i s t ’s good r e s o l u t i o n to h er w o r r i e s , but f o r th e fun we
are made very conscious of enjoying. Austen awakens and includes
us through t h a t v e i l which t r a n s l a t e s th e f u l f i l l m e n t s to u s —
through th a t v e il of imagination which is our power to p a rtic ip a te .
Images of successful women can be conservative, for they can
f a l l into the stereotypes of the id e a l, p e rfe c t women I described
in C hapter 2. A usten’s unhin g in g o f any n e c e s s a ry c o r r e l a t i o n
between e f f o r t and r e s u lt re le a se s her readers from g u i l t over the
d i s t a n c e betw een our l i v e s , which go on, and th e p r o t a g o n i s t s '
ends. A usten's e n d in g s, by p u r p o rtin g to smooth c lim a x e s and
endings in to the ongoingness of liv in g , give women images of hope—
our liv e s can be as in te re s tin g and as f u l f i l l i n g —but none of any
g u i l t o r c o m p a ra tiv e d e s p a i r . More i m p o r t a n t l y , A u s te n 's
f u l f i l l m e n t s can te a c h us to o v e rtu rn common s ta n d a rd s fo r
"success" located in "achievements" lik e marriage. As we saw with
C h a r lo tte Lucas, Austen w ants us no t to m arry w ith any m y th ic a l
id e a t h a t we have made a su c c e ss o f our l i v e s , f o r she shows t h a t
anyone can m arry i f we a re w i l l i n g to abandon o u r s e lv e s enough.
E liz a b e th was r i g h t n o t to m arry e i t h e r Mr. C o llin s or th e e a r l y
191
Mr. Darcy, but n o t because a r i c h , refo rm ed Mr. Darcy would come
a lo n g to m arry her and re sc u e h e r from "sp in s te rh o o d ." She was
r i g h t because a s a " s i n g l e ” woman she i s h a p p ie r th an she would
have been m a rrie d to e i t h e r man. And e i t h e r way, she i s a s in g l e
p e rso n . When th e p r o ta g o n is t s m arry, c h a r a c t e r s l i k e I s a b e l l a
Thorpe, John Dashwood, Lydia Bennet, Henry Crawford, H arriet Smith,
and S ir Walter E llio t w ill think them more important. But Austen
shows us th a t though marriage m atters i f i t is between two beloved
people, i t must m atter too much. For i f i t m atters overmuch, then
the woman means too l i t t l e . Such goals should never be prized over
th e w orth o f th e people who l i v e i n s i d e them. They should be
u n d ersto o d as p a r t i c u l a r c h o ic e s o f people whose l i v e s must be
measured in much la rg e r, more p a r tic u la r, ways.
• • # • •
Austen rev o lu tio n izes fu lf illm e n ts for female lead ch aracters
by removing f l a t g lo rif ic a tio n s from them. But she also creates a
new form of adm iration fo r f ic tio n a l characters. I t i s embodied in
what I w ill c a ll the "vindications," those moments where the leads
a re v i n d ic a te d by a s tro n g and s u p p o rtiv e n a r r a t o r . Comparing
these moments in a l l the novels is not to find a formula or steady
recipe of in g red ien ts which Austen uniformly follows with placid
p r e d ic ta b ility . These moments are a l l d iff e r e n t and contribute to
d is tin c tiv e p lo ts and problems. A p p re c ia tin g th e d i f f e r e n c e s i s
192
im p o r ta n t, f o r they m a tte r . But many have been e rro n e o u s ly
in te rp re te d , and many have been ignored a lto g e th e r because we have
n o t had a means o f i n t e r p r e t i n g them, o f u n d e rs ta n d in g t h e i r
f u n c tio n s , o th e r than subsuming them under th e g e n e r a l r u b r ic o f
"irony." Through comparing them, we can understand what each one
adds to the story i t serves.
In Sense and S e n s ib ility , Austen's g i f t to Elinor is th a t Mrs.
Dashwood
found t h a t she had been m isled by the c a r e f u l , th e
c o n s id e r a t e a t t e n t i o n o f h e r d a u g h te r, to th in k th e
a tta c h m e n t, [ E l i n o r 's to Edward] . . . much s l i g h t e r in
r e a l i t y , th an she had been wont to b e l i e v e , or th an i t
was now proved to be. She fe a re d t h a t under t h i s
persuasion she had been u n just, in a tte n tiv e , nay, almost
unkind, to her E linor. (355-356)
One could c a l l t h i s "unashamed" p rid e in E lin o r , ex c e p t t h a t such
te rm in o lo g y v i o l a t e s th e very p r i n c i p l e o f A usten's a r t . I t
demeans i n t o a n e g a tiv e a t t r i b u t e a much s tr o n g e r in v e n tio n .
A usten's is n o t so much a d e fe n se o f E lin o r as i t i s a proud
p ro c la m a tio n o f h e r w o rth , a v i n d i c a t i o n o f E l i n o r 's im p o rtan ce
both in s id e h er novel and in the canon of l i t e r a r y in v e n tio n s .
Through such fic tio n s , we experience what i t i s lik e to fe e l pride
in women, to aspire to heroism also av ailab le to us as w ell.
Austen a ls o c e l e b r a t e s h e r a f f e c t i o n f o r Fanny P r ic e tow ard
the end of Mansfield Park.
My Fanny in d e e d a t t h i s v e r y t i m e , I have th e
s a tis f a c tio n of knowing, must have been a happy creature
in s p i t e o f a l l she f e l t or th o u g h t she f e l t , f o r the
d is tr e s s of those around her. (461)
193
We a re a b le to enjoy th e f a c t t h a t A usten's n a r r a t o r i s so
p ro te ctiv e of Fanny a t the same time th a t she c a lls into question
Fanny's su fferin g for the people she loves in a s itu a tio n which so
th o ro u g h ly has solved so many o f Fanny's h e a r ta c h e s . Far from
h o ld in g Fanny up to r i d i c u l e , t h i s complex rem ark shows t h a t
Fanny's re sp ite from worry is good, th a t her e f fo r ts have deserved
our c e l e b r a t i o n o f h e r c u r r e n t r e l i e f , and t h a t we can be as
comforted as Fanny does not know she i s , th a t the current suffering
o f S ir Thomas, Lady B ertram , and Edmund mourns th e lo s s o f some
hopes well lo s t. And to the extent th a t t h e i r sorrow is portrayed
as j u s t i f i e d through i t s r e a l v a l i d i t y in th e h o r r o r o f M aria
B e r tr a m R u s h w o r th 's a c t s , i t s r e a l i t y i s tra c e d to needed
e x p e rie n c e o f s e l f - r e p r o a c h f o r t h e i r n e g l e c t o f h er as w e ll as
t h e i r i n j u s t i c e to Fanny h e r s e l f . That is why a t the end o f the
novel th e n a r r a t o r em p h asizes S i r Thomas's joy t h a t Fanny and
Edmund w ill marry. I t is about time th a t authors allow us to take
joy in the valuing of others for characters lik e Fanny, as we have
long been asked to w orship men. But Fanny i s no James Bond, nor
y e t Jake Barnes. For she shows how women may be v alued w ith o u t
s in k in g th e w orth o f h u m a n ity 's o th e r h a l f , much l e s s a l l o th e r
women as w ell.
In P r i d e and P r e j u d i c e and P e r s u a s io n , where the main
c h a r a c t e r s , though o f te n ig n o re d and u n d e re s tim a te d by o th e r
p e o p le , have had some power to h e lp , i f n o t th e m se lv e s , a t l e a s t
o thers, the v in d icatio n takes a d iffe re n t form. I t compensates not
194
so much f o r i n j u s t i c e done, as f o r a f e llo w s h ip which has been
impaired by the lead’s romantic worries of i t s usual intimacy and
force. Elizabeth Bennet's union with F itzw illiam Darcy, as w ell as
Anne E llio t's with Frederick Wentworth, also helps to reu n ite her
w ith h e r t r u e s t f r i e n d . For each, suspense over th e b e lo v e d 's
power to c o n tin u e lo v in g had s e p a ra te d h e r from h er r e g u la r
confidante, and for E lizabeth, th a t is her s i s t e r Jane.
E liz a b e th t o ld h e r [Jane Bennet] th e m o tiv es o f h er
secrecy. She had been unw illing to mention Bingley; and
th e u n s e t t l e d s t a t e o f h er own f e e l i n g s had made h er
equally avoid the name of h is friend. But now she would
no l o n g e r c o n c e a l fro m h e r , h i s s h a r e i n L y d i a 's
marriage. All was acknowledged, and h a lf the night spent
in conversation. (PP 374)
This i s not a v i n d i c a t i o n o f an u n d e ra p p re c ia te d p e rso n , but a
r e s to ra tio n of confidence where i t has had to be missing. Austen
lo cates joy in th is reunion between women, more than we often find
in w e s te rn a r t . She does th e same f o r Anne E l l i o t , and adds even
an e lem en t o f S i r Thomas's s e l f - r e p r o a c h i n to Lady R u s s e ll ’s
d e te r m in a tio n to c o n tin u e c a r in g about Anne, and to even in c lu d e
her former enemy Captain Wentworth. W e can f i t l y re jo ic e for Anne
t h a t h e r f r i e n d , in Mr. B ennet's w ords, " b e a r[s h e r ] no i l l - w i l l
fo r being j u s t i f i e d ” in her own decisions.
There was n o th in g l e s s f o r Lady R u s se ll to do, th a n to
admit th a t she had been p re tty completely wrong, and to
take up a new s e t of opinions and hopes. (P 249)
The n a rra to r explains Lady R u sse ll's new e f f o r ts ,
195
But she was a v ery good woman, and i f h e r second o b je c t
was to be sensible and w ell-judging, her f i r s t was to see
Anne happy. She loved Anne b e tte r than she loved her own
a b i l i t i e s .
Austen teaches us th a t in addition to true love and true happiness,
women d e se rv e th e n u r tu r in g o f f r i e n d s and d e a r ones lo v in g each
other for our sake. These are new p ic tu re s, and new sources of joy
for women to carry with us, and to expect in our liv e s.
I f the leads of Sense and S e n s ib ility and Mansfield Park are
u n d erv alu ed and b e tra y e d , and th o se o f P rid e and P r e ju d ic e and
Persuasion deprived of th e ir usual confidantes, the protagonists of
Northanger Abbey and Emma have, perhaps, been the most continually
described as flawed by c r i t i c s . Austen's answer is a vindication
c o m ic a l in i t s o u tra g e o u sn e s s, but s tr o n g in i t s i m p l i c a t i o n f o r
women. We can le a r n from th e v i c t o r i o u s g la d n e s s and s e l f -
a s se rtio n which ch aracterize the vin d icatio n s of Catherine Morland
and Emma Woodhouse. Both books focus on the su rp rise of others a t
the leads' proposed unions, " i t having never entered th e ir heads to
s u s p e c t an a tta c h m e n t on e i t h e r s id e ," (NA 249) as th e n a r r a t o r
say s o f C a th e r in e 's p a r e n t s , w h ile "the news was u n i v e r s a l l y a
s u r p r i s e w herever i t s p re a d ," (E 468) around Highbury. "But," as
th e n a r r a t o r t e l l s us ab o u t th e Morland p a r e n t s ' r e a c t i o n s , "as
n o th in g , a f t e r a l l , could be more n a t u r a l th an C a th e r in e 's being
beloved," they soon grow accustomed to the news. That statem ent is
fabulous because i t is so su rp risin g , given the fa c t th a t readers
have f o r many y e a rs f e l t t h a t an y th in g but t h a t were n a t u r a l . I t
i s a ls o courageous and new because i t i s tr u e . The s ta te m e n t is
fram ed in term s o f u n i v e r s a l i t y , but we u n d e rsta n d i t as th e
p a r t i a l i t y which read ily tr u s ts th a t Henry Tilney would of course
respond to Catherine as they do, and as we learn to do as w ell.
Mr. Woodhouse is incapable of duplicating the Morlands’ "happy
a g i t a t i o n , " and in h i s " c o n s id e r a b le shock," " t r i e d e a r n e s t l y to
d iss u a d e [Emma] from m arrying." (E 466) So i t i s l e f t to Emma
h e r s e lf (and there i s no one more appropriate) to celeb rate her own
d e s e rv in g n e s s . Emma says o f h e r s e l f soon a f t e r h er re u n io n w ith
Mr. Knightley, "Oh! I always deserve the best treatm ent, because I
n ev er p u t up w ith any o th e r." (474) This s u r p r i s i n g , o u tra g e o u s
comment is endearing and joyful to women because i t shows a woman
who has " i n t e r n a l i z e d " o r tak en f o r h e r s e l f the v i n d i c a t i o n , the
power o f being n u rtu re d w ith r e s p e c t , through which A usten's
n a r r a t o r c e l e b r a t e s h e r o th e r p ro ta g o n is ts . Our normal name for
t h i s in women i s , a g a in , "unashamed," but t h a t i s only because we
a re so unused to th e absence of shame, and even s e l f - l o a t h i n g , in
women. What we should c a ll Emma’s o p tim istic demand i s a laudable
regard for or pride in h e rs e lf which yet spurns the self-o b sessio n
o f an I s a b e l l a Thorpe or an Augusta Hawkins E lto n . I n s te a d i t
f in d s a j u b i l a n t humor in women's own c la im s to good t r e a t m e n t,
w h ile i t im p a r ts a l s o a v a l i d i t y to th o se demands t h a t we be
t r e a t e d no t j u s t w e l l , but in th e very b e s t way. Because t h a t is
197
what we do deserve, though few of us g et i t . The p o s s i b i l i t ie s of
women receiving the best treatm ent and our power not to put up with
any other r e s t a good deal on our a b i l i t y to take women serio u sly .
That is what Austen’s v indications in p a r tic u la r, and her s to rie s
as a whole, show us how to do.
198
Notes
A le x a n d e r Welsh, Forew ord, N a r ra tiv e Endings, N in e te e n th -
Century Fiction 33 (1978), 1.
Sandra G ilb ert and Susan Gubar, The Madwoman in the A ttic;
the Woman W riter and the Nineteenth-Century L iterary Imagination
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979) p. 155.
3I b id ., p. 154.
^Marilyn Butler, Romantics, Rebels, and Reactionaries (New
York: Oxford U niversity Press, 1982), p. 98.
^Jane M iller, Women W riting About Men (London: Virago Press,
1986), p. 63.
^Karen Newman, "Can This Marriage Be Saved: Jane Austen Makes
Sense o f an Ending," E n g lish L i t e r a r y H is to ry 50 (W inter, 1983):
705.
^M iller, p. 36.
o
See fo r exam ple, Marvin M udrick, Jane Austen: Iro n y as
Defense and D iscovery (P rin c e to n : P rin c e to n U n iv e r s ity P re ss ,
1952), pp. 59, 179; Robert Alan Donovan, "The Mind of Jane Austen,"
Jane Austen Today, ed. Joel Weinsheimer (Athens, Ga: University of
Georgia Press, 1975), pp. 123-24; John Odmark, An Understanding of
Jane Austenfs Novels: Character, Value, and Ironic Perspective
(Oxford: B a s il B la c k w e ll, 1981) p. 102; and Joseph L itv a k , "The
I n f e c t i o n o f A cting: T h e a t r i c a l s and T h e a t r i c a l i t y in M an sfield
Park," English L iterary History 53 (Summer, 1986): 351-52.
^Mary Poovey, The Proper Lady and the Woman W riter: Ideology
as Style in the Works of Mary W ollstonecraft, Mary Shelley, and
Jane Austen (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), p. 193.
10
Among th o se who argue t h a t A usten's happy en d in g s are
d esig n e d to parody or u n d e rc u t t h e i r own h a p p in e s s, a r e : Newman,
pp. 704-708, and G ilbert and Gubar, p. 169.
11Susan Morgan, In the Meantime: Character and Perception in
Jane Austen's Fiction (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980),
p. 18.
120scar Wilde, Lady Windermere's Fan, 1892, Act I I I .
^^Morgan, p . 16.
199
i
1^Jane McDonnell, "'A L i t t l e S p i r i t o f Independence': Sexual
P o litic s and the Bildungsroman in Mansfield Park," Novel: A Forum
on F ictio n 17 (Spring, 1984): 213*
^ M i l l e r , p. 62.
^ E l l e n Moers, L iterary Women (Garden City, N.Y., Doubleday &
Company, 1976), pp. 70-71.
1^Poovey, p. 127.
^ C h r i s t o p h e r K e n t, " 'R e a l Solem n H i s t o r y ' and S o c i a l
H is to ry ," Jane Austen in a S o c ia l C o n tex t, ed. David Monaghan
(Totowa, N .J.: Barnes & Noble, 1981), pp. 99-101.
19I b id ., p. 102.
20Morgan, p . 2.
pi
c 'David Monaghan, Jane Austen: Structure and Social Vision
(London: Macmillan P ress, 1980), pp. 81, 92.
22I b id ., pp. 65-66.
2^Edmund Wilson, "A Long Talk About Jane Austen," Jane Austen:
A C o lle c tio n o f C r i t i c a l E ssay s, ed. Ian W att (Englewood C l i f f s ,
N .J.: P re n tic e -H a ll, 1963), p. 35.
2i*Margaret Kirkham, Jane Austen, Feminism and F iction (Totowa,
N .J.: Barnes & Noble, 1983)9 pp. 119-20.
2 ^ S u s a n Morgan, " P a ra d is e R eco n sid ered : Edens w ith o u t Eve,"
H i s t o r i c a l S tu d ie s and L i t e r a r y C r i t i c i s m , ed. Jerome J. McGann
(Madison, W ise.: U n iv e r s ity o f W isconsin P r e s s , 1985), p. 268.
Morgan points out the reason for t h i s ,
"The earth ly paradise these endings evoke must p recisely
be understood as le ss than what might have been i f i t is
to be p a r a d is e a t a l l . For the human id e a , th e r e a l
heaven, which i s to say the heaven on earth, can be lived
only under W allace S te v e n s ’s ' f r i e n d l i e r s k i e s , ' in a
p a r tic u la r time and a p a r tic u la r place, and thus with the
fa m ilia r lim ita tio n s which bound a l l our liv e s. W e must
a c c e p t th o se b o u n d a rie s . . . in o rd e r to r e a l i z e th e
i d e a l in th e r e a l i t y " (p. 269).
26Ibid.
200
2?Wayne C. Booth, The Rhetoric of F ictio n (Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1961), pp. 3-20, passim.
? 8
Robert M . Polhemus, Comic Faith: The Great Tradition from
Austen to Joyce (Chicago: U n iv e r s ity o f Chicago P r e s s , 1980), p.
30.
^Morgan, "Paradise," p. 271.
201
Part II
The Beginnings of Discovery
202
Chapter 4
Family Heritage
in
Sense and Sensibility and Mansfield Park
From an e a r l y age she had been t o ld t h a t what she f e l t was u n r e a l
and d id n 't m atter.
—Marge Pierey
Woman on the Edge of Time
I f we read A usten's books only f o r th e g r a t i f i c a t i o n o f
d is c o v e rin g how th e p l o t comes o u t, th en th e r e could be l i t t l e
reason for returning to them la te r . Yet Austen's readers often do
return. There i s a co n trad ictio n between the entertainm ent which
i n v i t e s such r e - r e a d i n g and the term s w ith which c r i t i c s o f te n
d is c u s s A usten's work. Readers o f te n i n t e r p r e t A usten's n o v els
according to what Marilyn Butler has called the " d istin c tiv e turns"
of her p lo ts, with an eye to demonstrating how these events m irror
or comment upon what r e a d e r s see as th e h i s t o r i c a l background or
"c o n te x t" in which Austen w ro te , u s u a lly in an e f f o r t to uncover
203
h e r " i d e o l o g y ." For i n s t a n c e , c r i t i c s o f t e n a r g u e t h a t
P e r s u a s io n 's s u b je c t i s the dem ise of g e n tr y s o c i e t y because S ir
Walter E llio t's "spendthrift" h ab its force him to l e t Kellynch-hall
while Anne E llio t m arries a naval captain. Readers too often seem
to reduce th e novel to a s in g l e "message" based on one or two
1
events in the novel.
Not c o i n c i d e n t a l l y , r e a d e r s who i n t e r p r e t A usten's n o v e ls
according to th i s method often see them as le ss than they might be.
One view is t h a t "Jane A usten's g r e a tn e s s is to be found in a
consideration of the complete body of her work ra th e r than in any
O
s in g l e n o v el, c o n s id e ra b le as some of them are ." Another
c o n c lu s io n i s "Whether Jane Austen would have gone on, had she
lived, to explore new re la tio n s to a world where given c e rtitu d e s
a re w eakening, i t i s h a rd ly p o s s ib le to a f f i r m . "3 The a t t i t u d e
t h a t A usten's n o v e ls are c o n s e rv a tiv e so o fte n s p r in g s from the
idea th a t she composes a "ty p ically conservative p lo t," 1 * th a t "All
o f Jane A usten's n o v e ls a re f a b le s which a c t ou t t r a d i t i o n a l
c o n c e p ts o f th e q u a l i t i e s and r o l e o f th e g e n tr y ," ^ and t h a t she
p r e s e n ts "an im agined f u tu r e which is a m irro r-im a g e o f the
i d e a l i z e d p a s t." ^ Such p i c t u r e s show Austen c l i n g i n g to some
version of "society" against "individualism ," supporting the gentry ^
and landed values over cap italism and the middle class.^
On an immediate le v e l, such accounts of Austen's achievements
do not r e f l e c t the enjoyment readers continue to find in her work.
But a fa rth e r fascin atio n of the pervasive use of th is approach to
204
Austen’s fic tio n i s th a t i t no longer means much elsewhere. Today,
do we sa y t h a t c o n s e r v a t i v e s o r p r o g r e s s i v e s a d v o c a t e
"individualism"? Which works for society and c o lle c tiv e solutions?
Is the o p p o s itio n no t now betw een c o o p e ra tio n and c o m p e titio n ,
c i v i l l i b e r t i e s and b u s in e s s ones? Since we c o n tin u e re a d in g
Q
Austen's novels, since they remain "readable," I think we ought to
ask w hether t h i s f i c t i o n poses q u e s tio n s which go beyond m erely
re h a sh in g outmoded c o n f l i c t s , w hether i t can a c t u a l l y be read as
4
speaking to current concerns.
I wish to suggest th a t we need a less s im p lis tic approach to
A usten's n o v e ls. W e ought to pay as c a r e f u l a t t e n t i o n to th e
c o n te x t in s id e the n o v e ls as to our f i c t i o n s about th e c o n te x t in
which she w ro te. We should n o te th e v a r ie d c o m p le x itie s and
c o m p lic a tio n s which make easy g e n e ra liz a tio n s about these novels
p r o b le m a tic . P lo t cannot be m erely what happens, but how i t
happens. This is a truism recent readers have often neglected when
i n t e r p r e t i n g A usten's books. P lo t i s n o t j u s t th e s o - c a l l e d
" e v e n ts," bu t how the e v e n ts a re h an d led , how th ey are lin k e d to
th e r e s t of th e work. This i s to say n o t only t h a t form and
content are much the same thing, but th a t the "turns of [the] plot"
must be understood through continual comparison with the n a rra tiv e
"background." P a r t i c u l a r l y , th e b e g in n in g s o f A usten's f i c t i o n s
a re im p o rta n t because th ey a r e th e c o n te x t th e n a r r a t o r p ro v id e s
for the future adventures, yet are too often neglected in favor of
th o se " d i s t i n c t i v e tu rn s " o f p lo t. No one has y e t accounted f o r
205
A usten's openings in a r e g u l a r way, sought to d e s c rib e what they
ac co m p lish or what th ey add to the n o v e ls. I hope to show t h e i r
importance, and more, o ffe r a p attern which may also help us locate
each o f the com pleted n o v e ls and t h e i r b e g in n in g s in r e l a t i o n to
the others. I w ill explore how the openings to Austen's novels s e t
out issues which we now consider c e n tra l fem in ist questions.
Beginnings are more d i f f i c u l t to discuss than ends. The sense
o f f i n a l i t y which Frank Kermode and Barbara H e r r n s te in Smith
d e s c rib e ^ i s complex and v a r ie d , but even so i s n o t as e lu s i v e as
th e range of " s t a r t s " a v a i l a b l e fo r b eg in n in g a n y th in g , and the
e x p e c ta tio n s th e s e s t a r t s may a ro u se . Study o f openings must
address techniques th a t ra is e questions, build a n tic ip a tio n s, and
o f f e r , w hether th e y f u l f i l l them or n o t, p ro m ise s o f som ething.
Endings, I think, are more e a sily prepared and understood p recisely
because we have been led to them, because both the fu lfillm e n t of
expectations, and su rp rise , the v io la tio n of them, are supported by
a h i s t o r y o f p a r t i c i p a t i o n . But a th e o ry o f b e g in n in g s must
comprehend preparations which are often f e l t only in d is t i n c t l y .
B ec au se e n d i n g s embody c o n c l u s i o n s , w h a t e v e r t h e i r
"inconclusiveness" or "openness," th e ir presence confers to readers
th e e x p e rie n c e o f a w hole, i f only a whole s e t o f fra g m e n ts ,
or a whole th a t fades o ff to an inconclusive end. Endings occur at
th e p o in t where f i r s t and second re a d in g s merge; th e f i r s t
e x p e rie n c e o f the p ro c e ss i s f in is h e d and the r e - t h i n k i n g has
begun. However unexpected, enigmatic, or in te n tio n a lly undefined
206
they are, endings have d e fin itio n , conclusiveness, by the very fact
t h a t t h e i r p o s i t i o n te r m i n a t e s some kind o f s u c c e s s io n , i f no t
p ro c e ss . I am a rg u in g t h a t , f o r i n s t a n c e , in S t e i n ’s "A ro se i s a
ro se i s a ro s e i s a r o s e ," th e l a s t "a ro se " i s more e a s i l y summed
up th an th e f i r s t . The opening, "A ro se " could lead to many
developments, not le a s t to the Shakespearean line i t re -w rite s , "A
ro se by any o th e r name . . ." But more, i t can le a d , as C a th a rin e
Stim pson has arg u ed , to a r e - r e a d i n g and r e - i n t e r p r e t a t i o n as
1 n
"ero s." The l i n e becomes "Eros i s e ro s i s e ro s i s e r o s ,"
som ething we could never guess on our f i r s t in t r o d u c t i o n to "A
11
ro se ." Endings, w hether we l i k e i t o r n o t, have some s o r t o f
i n t e g r i t y about them which b e g in n in g s lack. In constructing our
t h e o r i e s ab o u t th e works t h a t en d in g s co n c lu d e , we can cope w ith
w hatever q u e s tio n s th ey r a i s e . But b eg in n in g s fo o l us. They so
o f te n tra n s fo rm th e m se lv e s c o m p le te ly by th e tim e we g e t to a
second reading. Which may even mean, though i t may not, th a t th a t
i s what th e ir author constructed them to do.
A good beginning must sim ultaneously lure a perhaps re lu c ta n t
r e a d e r , even w h ile i t form s p a r t o f a m ean in g fu l s t r u c t u r e . I t
must be compelling by i t s e l f , or a t f i r s t glance, and in te re s tin g
when connected to th e in v e n tio n s which f o llo w . Put a n o th e r way,
th e kind o f in s ta n ta n e o u s e n t e r t a i n m e n t which sp a rk s a r e a d e r ’s
f i r s t c u rio sity , i n t e r e s t , or f a ith in how the work w ill develop, a
w illingness to follow the a r t i s t i c movement, must a t the same time
embody an i d e a l s t a r t , or a t l e a s t a good one, f o r a p a r t i c u l a r
207
imaginary process. Without speaking p r e c i s e l y o f Joseph F rank's
" sp a tia l form," we may say th a t the beginning of a novel is c ru c ia l
to i t s shape as a whole because in novels shape and movement amount
to the same thing. N ovelistic form and process, image and event,
and a r t i f a c t and c o n t r o l l e d change, a l l s p rin g from th e same
im a g in a tiv e a c t which both shapes an a r t o b je c t and m a n ip u la te s
reading time. But how then does Jane Austen, whose novels search
beyond f i r s t im pressions, use beginnings?
With her novels Austen imagines a new form of change, and she
in tr o d u c e s i t in h er b e g in n in g s. Each o f A usten's books is
/
o rg an ized around th e e x c ite m e n t o f im a g in a tiv e , p s y c h o lo g ic a l
t r a n s f o r m a t i o n s , and h e r b e g in n in g s in t h e i r d i f f e r e n t ways a l l
^ /
d ra m a tiz e th e need f o r i t . Each o f h e r openings shows changes
occurring, changes about which we may properly wonder because they
show the in te r e s t of uncertain ty , and the promise extended by liv e s
/
which are not locked in to our n e a t p r e d i c t i v e f o r m u la tio n s fo r
them. As Morgan has shown, Austen's p lo ts suggest th a t the r e a l i ty
o f w h at i s p a s s i n g a ro u n d us w i l l a l w a y s c o n t a i n more
p o s s i b i l i t ie s , more m ysteries, than our attem pts to understand i t
allow. On the surface, a l l of her novels are made possible by some
kind of change: some characters move, others a rriv e , one d ies, and
s t i l l others marry to ju s tif y the beginning of the plot. Catherine
Morland and S ir W alter E l l i o t each go to Bath, Mr. B ingley and
Fanny Price both a rriv e , Mr. Henry Dashwood dies prem aturely, and
Lady Bertram and Mrs. Weston each m arry. These s u r f a c e changes,
208
p a lp a b ly a r t i f i c i a l , c a l l a t t e n t i o n to A usten’s own f i c t i o n a l
c o n tr iv a n c e s o f b e g in n in g s, but th e y s e rv e a y e t more im p o rta n t
function. They show us the need for imaginative changes, for they
/
a l l d e m o n stra te fram es o f mind which Austen wants to change.
/
M ostly, th ey show us p a t r i a r c h a l t r a d i t i o n in i t s d e s t r u c t i v e
o p e ra tio n s.
Austen’s new vision of change is v iolated by th at anxiety for
t r u t h and f i n a l i t i e s , i.e . ends and c o n c lu s io n s , which we o f te n
bring to her work. Our whole i n t e lle c tu a l heritag e encourages us
t o n e g l e c t b e g i n n i n g s f o r e n d s . But A u sten i s ev en more
in te re s tin g than most readers assume, and her novels cannot be so
e a s ily summed up. Austen’s n a rra to r cares about beginnings as w ell
as ends, for her novels undermine the ways we read solely for p lo t
and t i d y c o n c l u s i o n s . She v a l u e s t h e a b i l i t y to l i v e in
/
u n c e rta in tie s. Instead of f in a li t y , she o ffers complexity, and her
d e c e p tiv e ly sim p le openings im m e d ia te ly immerse us in th e
unansw ered q u e s tio n s o f a whole new r e l a t i o n to c h a r a c t e r , a
/
r e la tio n which I believe we can define as fem inist.
In every one of Austen's novels, the s u p e rfic ia l d ire c tio n of
th e p l o t w i l l m isle a d i f i n t e r p r e t a t i o n i s no t grounded in
a f f e c t i o n fo r the b eg in n in g . For i f r e - r e a d in g r e s u l t s from
i n t e r e s t , i t must extend to openings as w ell as denouements. The
p lo t represents in Austen’s novels the contrived accidents of a r t ,
th e in v e n te d luck o f concocted p l o t s , in which we a re to see both
th e fun o f making them up, and th e u n p r e d ic ta b le c h a lle n g e they
209
represent in our own liv e s. The p lo t's events represent our stake
in the novels, the tw is ts of our hopes for the leading character's
ach iev ed lo v e s to r y . But th e b e g in n in g s, im agined o u ts id e th e
lo v e -in te re s t, provide the contexts in which we are to understand
l a t e r e v e n ts , t r a n s f o r m a t i o n s , and changes, untouched by th e
o r c h e s t r a t e d ends o f p l o t . We need each b eg in n in g to u n d erstan d
th e a c t u a l movement o f i t s n o v e l, f o r though each opening e x i s t s
outside the progress of the love i n t e r e s t , the openings yet remain
th e c a r e f u l s t a r t s to th e im a g in a tiv e a c t i o n o f an a rran g em en t
which asks fem in ist questions.
In th e ir d iff e r e n t ways, a l l of Austen’s beginnings are funny.
A usten’s n o v els show a sense o f th e m y s te rio u s m eanings o f our
l i v e s , through how she forms bo th th e ends and th e b e g in n in g s o f
h e r n o v els i n t o jo k e s . T hese f u n c t i o n t o d e m o n s t r a t e t h e
a r t i f i c i a l i t y in conventions e ith e r of fin ish in g or s ta r tin g , and
p o in te d ly draw a t t e n t i o n to t h e i r own f i c t i v e n e s s . I have
d is c u s s e d A usten’s humor in both th e I n tr o d u c t i o n and C hapter 2,
but now we must look a t what we lo s e when we f o r g e t ab o u t h er
openings and where they lo cate m irth—both in terms of how we read,
and of the entrancing sig n ifican ce of th e i r in d ividual v ariety .
B eginnings are g e n e r a l l y s u b tly p r e p a r a to r y r a t h e r than
o b v io u sly c l i m a c t i c , so we f o r g e t them sooner and u n d e r e s tim a te
them more r e a d i l y than o th e r p a r t s o f a n o v el. Yet i t i s fo r
s u b tle tie s th a t we re-read Austen’s novels, because we always find
more meaning in them, however th o ro u g h ly we have memorized h e r
^ 10
a ctu al words. To describe the a c tiv ity and charm of understanding
Austen's work, we need to expand C. S. Lewis's d is tin c tio n between
a f i r s t reading's "narrative lu st" for "actual surprises" and th a t
" c e r t a i n s u r p r i s i n g n e s s " o f l a t e r r e a d in g s which i s no t "used
1 ?
up." Our own f o r g e t f u l n e s s ab o u t how th e "memorable" e v e n ts
o c c u r, as w e ll a s our d isc o v e ry of o th e r p ro c e s s e s t h a t A usten's
n a r r a t o r only l e t s us n o tic e on a second r e a d in g , a llo w s us both
kinds of su rp rise. The action of her books is formed to be f il l e d
in by readers' i n t e r e s t in comparing, reco n stru ctin g , and inventing
for ourselves what i t means th a t Eleanor Tilney is su fferin g from
what must seem lik e hopeless love for "the most charming young man
in the w o rld ," t h a t Anne Taylor Weston i s d is c o v e rin g t h a t she is
pregnant about the same time th a t she w orries over whether Frank
C h u r c h i l l w i l l v i s i t , o r t h a t F r e d e r i c k W e n tw o rth i s n o t
in d iffe re n t to, but only very angry w ith, Anne E llio t. With Austen
we enjoy both the shock of recognition which Lewis values and the
shock of r e in te rp r e ta tio n which makes re-reading the most e s s e n tia l
a c t of perceiving her novels.
Paul K. Alkon points out in Defoe and F ictio n al Time th a t Ian
Watt to o h a s t i l y d is m is s e s D aniel D efoe's f o r g e t t a b l e li n k s as
e x t r a n e o u s d i v i s i o n s betw een memorable o c c u rre n c e s because
" F o rg e ttin g may be an a p p r o p r i a t e (and c e r t a i n l y an a c t u a l )
response to some p arts of a t e x t . " ^ Austen's n a rra to r knows th a t
we w ill forget her beginnings soon a f t e r they have influenced us.
So we need a new th e o ry o f re a d in g which can account fo r the
211
continuing pleasure of re-reading Austen's novels, and consciously
include th e ir s ig n ific a n t yet designedly fo rg e tta b le sections. Our
in te rp re ta tio n s should then e x p lic itly connect forgotten p a rts with
the u n f o r g e t t a b l y obvious ones, so t h a t we may more a p t l y
u n d e rsta n d and e x p la in th e e f f e c t s o f each whole n ovel. To
describe these concoctions which continually su rp rise us with new
m eanings, we must use both what we n o tic e from S ta n le y F i s h ’s
method of perceiving sy lla b le -b y -sy lia b le transform ations, and from
Joseph F rank's em phasis on ''s p a t i a l form." We need no t weigh one
te c h n iq u e o f re a d in g over the o t h e r , fo r we need them both.
Instead, we must r e a liz e the sheer worth, whatever i t s method, of
n o t i c i n g what we have not seen b e fo re . That i s why we r e - r e a d
Austen. We enjoy s im u lta n e o u s ly resp o n d in g as F ish does to th e
s m a l l e r cau ses which c o n s tr u c t both what we have remembered and
what we have n o t, and a ls o to th e l a r g e r p a t t e r n s , l i k e Frank's
s p a tia l form, which they complete. I want to argue th a t one reason
A usten's fem inism has no t been f u l l y a p p r e c ia te d i s t h a t r e a d e r s
h av e n o t p a id enough a t t e n t i o n to th e " f o r g e t t a b l e , " l e s s
"memorable," le ss "clim actic" sections.
• * » * *
O bviously, my th e o ry o f how we ought to read Austen and
o t h e r s — t h a t i s , r e - r e a d - - c a n n o t o f f e r us a b s o lu te re a d in g s but
w i l l r e s u l t in r a t h e r p e r s o n a l v a r i e t y and e v e r - c o n tin u in g
212
discovery. Yet what else have we ever had anyway? W e need to make
e x p l i c i t a f l e x i b l e method, w ith em phasis on th e unknown, to
apprehend th e acco m p lish m en ts o f a u th o r s l i k e Austen. Our
perception of the p o l i t i c a l im plications of her in te r e s t in women
depends on our w illingness to suspend what we have been taught to
think im portant, to be open to her new categ o ries, and to re-define
what we f e e l a s "m em orable.” A usten's n o v e ls p u l l away from th e
old pat answers. When Catherine Morland demands th a t Henry Tilney
provide her with absolute answers, Henry responds w ith, "Nay i f i t
is to be guess-work, l e t us a l l guess for ourselves. To be guided
by second-hand c o n je c tu r e i s p i t i f u l . The p re m ise s a re b e fo re
you." (152) Morgan has p o in te d o u t th e s ig n i f i c a n c e of t h i s
moment. C a th e r in e 's a c t i v i t y th ro u g h o u t N orthanger Abbey, a s
Morgan shows, c o n s i s t s e x a c tly in a tte m p ts to i n t e r p r e t h e r
1 li
e x p e rie n c e , in g u e s sin g . I want to argue t h a t t h i s p ro c e ss i s
e sp e c ia lly im portant to Austen and her novels because guessing fo r
o u r s e lv e s i s a p rim a ry a c t o f f e m i n i s t s tr y i n g to see beyond th e
cu lture which has formed us in so many ways.
The r e -in te r p re ta tio n which Austen's novels continually demand
p re c lu d e s c l e a r an sw ers. We a re l e f t to gu ess on our own about
/
F itzw illiam Darcy's progress th ro u g h th e f i r s t h a l f o f P rid e and
P r e ju d ic e a f t e r Austen c h a lle n g e s us to w o n deringly r e - r e a d by
creatin g Mr. Darcy's avowal th a t he had believed Elizabeth Bennet
"to be wishing, expecting my addresses," (369) when he f i r s t asked
/
her to marry him. Guessing about Mr. Darcy is a d e lic a te operation
213
for which the opening has prepared us. W e must re-read and imagine
again the i n i t i a l contest between Mr. and Mrs. Bennet a f t e r hearing
th a t "Mr. Bennet was among the e a r l i e s t of those who waited on Mr.
B ingley. He had alw ays in te n d e d to v i s i t him, though to th e l a s t
always assuring h is wife th a t he should not go." (6) (My i t a l i c s )
We should never have im agined Mr. B ennet's i n t e n t i o n s th e f i r s t
tim e we read h i s opening r e p a r t e e w ith Mrs. Bennet, and now must
guess a g a in a t h is p e r s o n a l i t y and v a lu e s i f he could be d iv e r te d
by so tormenting her.
Austen makes us value the forgotten, which we must notice in
order to r e -in te r p re t. She i s expressly concerned with undermining
the plo t events to which we tr a d itio n a lly look forward, in favor of
the fo rg e tta b le d e ta ils we must now remember. W e do not ever hear
any p ro ta g o n ist’s answer to her love's question about whether she
loves him as much as he loves her. That i s a conventional absolute
which Austen in v ite s us to imagine for ourselves, while she makes
us a t te n d to i n t r o d u c t i o n s and o th e r p ro c e s s e s which we u s u a ll y
f o r g e t . That new a t t e n t i o n le a d s no t to c e r t a i n t i e s bu t to
questions, and to guessing for ourselves. Re-reading in Austen's
novels is an action analogous to the imaginative action of offerin g
new solutions to the m ysteries of the already-known. This is also
the novel-wide a c tiv ity of Anne E llio t.
But how e x a c tly do A usten's books b egin, and how do th e
beginnings d iff e r from each other? Marianna Torgovnick describes
1 *5
endings through many useful categories in C losure in th e Novel, 1 ^
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b u t o n ly one r e a l l y h e l p s u s d i s c u s s A u s te n 's b e g i n n i n g s .
Distance, the degree of our removal from the main ch aracter, w ill
t e l l us most, because Austen v aries i t more v ividly than any other
q uality . Because she portrays understanding as a process, Austen
w ill not allow us to jump d ire c tly to in tim ate acquaintance with
h e r p r o t a g o n i s t s . We can only know them g r a d u a lly . Here, as
always, the exceptions t e s t the ru le : even her novels which seem
to begin with a p ictu re of th e ir p ro tag o n ists, Northanger Abbey and
Emma, a c tu a lly do not. The introductory d escrip tio n s of Catherine
Morland and Emma Woodhouse are only lim ite d versions of what these
c h a r a c t e r s a re l i k e . I t i s no t t h a t t h e r e i s any o n e -se n te n c e
summary of the women which the n a rra to r aims to iro n ic a lly evade,
f o r th e d i f f i c u l t p ro c e ss o f coming to u n d e rsta n d c h a r a c t e r i s
i t s e l f the point.
The two Austen beginnings which open a t the g re a te st distance
from t h e i r p r o t a g o n i s t s a re th e most f o r g o t t e n by r e a d e r s , and
t h e i r n o v e ls, Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y and M an sfield Park, have
been c o m p a ra tiv e ly n e g le c te d . M asquerading as d ry ly pompous
p r e lu d e s , both b e g in n in g s have fun w ith the myth o f fa m ily
h i s t o r i e s conclu d ed , and in b o th , t h i s h e r i t a g e p ro v id e s th e
s e t t i n g f o r th e two most e m o tio n a lly ignored leading characters.
The tw o o t h e r n o v e l s w h ic h b e g in w i t h a p i c t u r e o f t h e
p ro tag o n ists' parents, Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion, are also
b u i l t around women who are undervalued by th e ir fam ilies in some
215
way. Of the two most d is ta n t beginnings, though, the one to Sense
and S e n s ib ility provides the more conventional introduction.
The fa m ily o f Dashwood had been long s e t t l e d in Sussex.
T h e ir e s t a t e was l a r g e , and t h e i r r e s id e n c e was a t
Norland Park, in the centre of t h e i r property, where, for
many g e n e r a t i o n s , th ey had liv e d in so r e s p e c t a b l e a
manner, as to engage th e g e n e r a l good o p in io n o f t h e i r
surrounding acquaintance. The la te owner of th is e s ta te
was a s in g le man, who l i v e d to a v ery advanced age, and
who for many years of his l i f e , had a constant companion
and housekeeper in h i s s i s t e r . But h e r d e a th , which
happened te n y e a rs b e fo re h is own, produced a g r e a t
a lte r a tio n in h is home; . . . (3) (my i t a l i c s )
This opening seems to p r e s e n t an unam biguously s e r i o u s h i s t o r y
where, for Austen, r e la tiv e ly few questions are raised. But when
we h e a r about John Dashwood, t h i s seem in g ly m ild , s ta n d a rd
b eg in n in g w i l l show us new q u e s tio n s . The opening c o n tin u e s by
d i s c u s s in g c h a r a c t e r s we w i l l come to know as E lin o r Dashwood’s
family: the la te Hr. Dashwood
i n v i t e d and re c e iv e d i n to h is house th e fa m ily o f h is
nephew Mr. Henry Dashwood, th e l e g a l i n h e r i t o r o f th e
Norland e s t a t e , and th e p erso n to whom he in te n d e d to
bequeath i t . In the society of his nephew and niece, and
th e ir children, the old Gentleman's days were comfortably
s p e n t. His a tta c h m e n t to them a l l in c r e a s e d . The
c o n s ta n t a t t e n t i o n o f Mr. and Mrs. Dashwood, which
proceeded not merely from in te r e s t, but from goodness of
h eart, gave him every degree of so lid comfort which his
age could r e c e iv e ; and th e c h e e r f u ln e s s o f th e c h i l d r e n
added a r e lis h to his existence. (3) (my i t a l i c s )
Things are s t i l l sounding normal with nothing problematic. That is
a co m b in atio n t h a t we w i l l soon be i n v i t e d to q u e s tio n . S t i l l ,
%
even on a f i r s t g la n c e t h i s i n t r o d u c t i o n to th e novel r a i s e s
s e v e r a l i s s u e s c r u c i a l to Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y : i n h e r i t a n c e ,
general opinion, r e s p e c t a b i l i t y , c o m fo rt, and a t t e n t i o n to o th e r
216
p e o p le ’s c o m fo rt. But when we come to th e a f te r m a th of "the old
G entlem an'"s d e a th , th e n a r r a t o r ’s tone becomes more double,
amused,
. . . h i s w i l l was re a d , and l i k e a lm o st every o th e r
w i l l , gave as much d isa p p o in tm e n t as p le a s u r e . He was
n e i t h e r so u n j u s t , nor so u n g r a t e f u l , as to leav e h is
e s t a t e from h i s nephew ;— but he l e f t i t to him on such
term s as d e s tro y e d h a l f the v alu e o f th e b e q u e st. Mr.
Dashwood had wished for i t more for the sake of his wife
and daughters than for him self and his son:—but to h is
son, and h is son's son, a child of four years old, i t was
se c u re d , in such a way, as to le a v e to h i m s e l f no power
of providing fo r those who were most dear to him, and who
most needed a provision, by any charge on the e s ta te , or
by any sale of i t s valuable woods. (4) (my i t a l i c s )
W ills , th e means through which th e c u l t u r e t r a n s f e r s and
re p ro d u c e s i t s power, may c u s to m a r ily g iv e equal amounts o f
" d i s a p p o i n t m e n t and p l e a s u r e . " But the d isa p p o in tm e n t and
deprivation are usually suffered by women—the pleasure and wealth
are accumulated by men. Austen shows us how th is works. People,
p a tria rc h s lik e old Mr. Dashwood, accept the c u ltu re ’s opposition
between in sig n ifican ce and importance, between in fe rio r u n its lik e
"w ife and d a u g h te rs ," and th e symmetry and supposed g ra n d e u r o f
"his son, and h is so n 's son," which we now re c o g n iz e as th e u s u a l
dreams f o r th e f u tu r e on which p a t r i a r c h a l l i n e s a re p l o t t e d .
Today, any fem in ist would re a c t with disgust a t the old Gentleman’s
p r i o r i t i e s . But we need to acknowledge th a t though she wrote 175
years ago, ju s t such disgust is what Austen's beginning is formed
to evoke. As th e opening c o n tin u e s , Austen makes th e d i s p a r i t y
c le a re r.
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The whole was tie d up fo r the b e n e fit of th is child, who
in o c c a s io n a l v i s i t s w ith h is f a t h e r and m other a t
N orland, had so f a r g ain ed on th e a f f e c t i o n s o f h i s
uncle, by such a ttr a c tio n s as are by no means unusual in
c h i l d r e n o f tw o o r t h r e e y e a r s o l d ; an im p e r f e c t
a r t i c u l a t i o n , and an e a r n e s t d e s ir e of having h is own
way, many cunning tr ic k s , and a g re a t deal of noise, as
to outweigh a l l the value of a l l the a tte n tio n which, for
years, he had received from h is niece and her daughters.
He meant no t to be unkind how ever, and, as a mark o f h is
a f f e c t i o n f o r th e th r e e g i r l s , he l e f t them a thousand
pounds a-piece. (4) (my i t a l i c s )
At issue here i s women’s i n v i s i b i l i t y . The old Mr. Dashwood takes
for granted care which demands a g reat deal of e f f o r t from women,
which the n a rra tiv e re p e titio n of "all" emphasizes: " a ll the value
o f a l l th e a t t e n t i o n " t h a t " fo r y e a r s ," he had r e c e iv e d from fo u r
women. That th e a t t e n t i o n s o f women to men a re u n d erv alu ed i s
fu n d am en tal to a c u l t u r e in which women fu n c tio n p r i m a r i l y to
f u l f i l l men's needs. Women a re ex p ected to s e rv e but n ev er to
receive recognition fo r th e ir work.
When we retu rn to the account of Miss Dashwood’s r e la tio n to
her brother, we have now been given reason to question why Norland
is not her e s ta te as w ell as h is , why her p o sitio n amounts to only
"companion and housekeeper." (3) W e may even surmise th a t she was
the older of the two (since she died f i r s t ) overlooked in favor of
her younger sib lin g . W e must wonder about th a t in lig h t of what we
have ju s t seen of the u n fa ir way old Mr. Dashwood has responded to
women as opposed to men. W e are encouraged to ask why men seem so
much more im portant, so much more deserving of money, and why money
seems b e t t e r p la c e d when g iv e n to men th a n to women. A usten's
218
beginning challenges c e n tra l prevailing assumptions. Why the old
g en tlem an would be more p le a se d by the norm al d i s r u p t i o n s o f a
th ree-y ear-o ld child than by the devoted care of older people, is
sim p ly a m a tte r o f gender and d i s t o r t e d v a lu e s . The f a c t i s t h a t
anything which young Henry had done would have been admired by h is
old r e l a t i v e — h is being a male d escen d an t is the c r u c i a l f a c t .
A usten's f e m in i s t p e r s p e c tiv e shows us t h a t th e fo u r women's
a t t e n t i o n , t h a t i s , s e l f l e s s n e s s , i s ig n o re d , w h ile th e one boy's
"desire of having h is own way," h is s e lfish n e ss, i s rewarded with
w e a lth . I th in k we must re c o g n iz e how A usten's to n e , w ith i t s
abrupt s h i f t a t the end of the sectio n I have quoted, allows us to
laugh a t , th en be angered by, and f i n a l l y to scorn the c o r r u p t
"k in d n ess" and " a f f e c t i o n " o f o ld Mr. Dashwood, which f e e l s
generous doing so l i t t l e for people who have done a g reat deal for
him. W e are taught by these ju x tap o sitio n s to id e n tify h o s t i l i t y
to women in standard arrangements, whose tone conveys th a t veneer
of im p a rtia lity and established fa c t, but a c tu a lly betrays women
and a g g ra n d is e s men. We l e a r n to d e t e c t h o s t i l i t y to women in
usual forms, noticing th a t Mr. Dashwood's decisions enable him to
ta k e advantage o f n u r tu r i n g from women, bu t to h im s e lf devote i t
only to men.
When we look a t t h i s p a r t o f the b eg in n in g in c o n n e c tio n to
th e r e s t o f Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , we can see t h a t th e is s u e o f
women's unappreciated a tte n tio n s to other people is primary among
the problems with which Elinor Dashwood struggles. Her a tte n tio n s
s 219
to other people w ill be abused instead of received with g ra titu d e .
Perhaps as im p o rta n t i s the o b tu se n e ss o f th e old p a t r i a r c h who
does not d istin g u ish among the three young women, but lumps them
a l l together as the " g irls .” Austen's approach is to help us laugh
ab o u t t h i s s i t u a t i o n in a way which sp a rk s our wonder about th e
s t a t e o f v a lu e s in our c u l t u r e . Laughing and q u e s tio n in g the
accepted order, mirth and challenging the patriarch y , are made to
work together.
Hr. Henry Dashwood d ie s a y ear l a t e r , but f i r s t e x t r a c t s a
promise from John Dashwood "to do every thing in h is power to make
them [th e Dashwood women] c o m fo rta b le ." (5) "Com fort," th e
sensation th a t Mr. and Mrs. Dashwood's a tte n tio n s had given old Mr.
Dashwood, is im portant in the beginning of Sense and S e n s ib ility ,
and, in a way which needs to be acknow ledged, to th e novel as a
whole. Fanny F e r r a r s Dashwood, or "Mrs. John Dashwood," as th e
n a rra to r i n i t i a l l y c a lls her, by moving in to Norland immediately
a f t e r Henry Dashwood's funeral, shows "with how l i t t l e a tte n tio n to
th e co m fo rt o f o th e r people she could a c t when th e o cc a sio n
required it." (6) Our laughter a t th is comic rev ersal of terms is
n o t sn id e or i r o n i c , b u t i s a way o f f e e l i n g th e im p o rta n c e of
c a r in g about o th e r p e o p le 's f e e l i n g s . In a novel whose p l o t
su rro u n d s th e main c h a r a c t e r 's p erfo rm an ce o f what th e o ccasio n
r e q u i r e s , th e c o n n e c tio n betw een p o lite n e s s and a tte n tio n to the
comfort of others has early been asserted.
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W ills, bequests, and a tte n tio n ; d i s i n h e r i t a n c e , d e p r i v a t io n ,
and neglect, are connected to our comfort because they a l l involve
questions of how we decide who i s worthy of our generosity, and how
we cope with o th e rs’ in a tte n tio n to our w elfare, whether of money,
h e a l t h , o r e s p e c i a l l y , em otion. These a re i s s u e s t h a t Austen
re n d e rs here s p e c i f i c a l l y as women’s in a m a le -c e n te re d c u l t u r e .
How to respond to other ch aracters' se lfish n e ss and ungenerous acts
is p a rtic u la rly the problem Elinor Dashwood faces. John Dashwood,
whom we hear about next, epitom izes se lfish n e ss and ungenerousness
in t h i s n o v el. He shows how l i t t l e women can r e l y on b r o t h e r s '
generosity to counteract the u n fa ir provisions of th e i r ancestors.
Like the older brothers Tom Bertram and Henry Crawford in Mansfield
Park, the other Family Heritage novel, John Dashwood fe e ls no g u ilt
about taking most and sharing none. But the issue w ill turn out to
concern n o t only what women s u f f e r under th e c u r r e n t system ;
everyone who is not an e ld e st son of wealthy gentry is deprived by
th is c u ltu re 's method of reproducing power through i t s inheritance
custom s. Edward F e r r a r s , in d e e d , shows us t h a t even some e ld e r
sons may be d ep riv ed i f they do no t m arry money and s t a t i o n to
oblige th e ir fam ilies.
The issue in the opening to Sense and S e n s ib ility is not the
r i g h t to be w e a lth y , f o r E lin o r and Edward w i l l be c o n te n t w ith
£850 a year. But what John Dashwood shows us is how quickly some
p e o p le g r a s p a t w h at i s u n f a i r l y g i v e n t o th e m . A u s te n 's
treatm ent amuses us with how rapidly and pompously John Dashwood
£21
considers the Dashwood e s ta te h is own, when he invokes "prudence”
to "consider how much there might prudently be in his power to do
for" the Dashwood women. Even in h is f i r s t plan he overlooks Mrs.
Dashwood, but decides to give h is h a l f - s i s t e r s
a thousand pounds a-piece. He then thought him self equal
to i t . The prospect of four thousand a-year, in addition
to h is present income, besides the remaining h a lf of his
own mother’s fortune, warmed his heart and made him fe e l
cap ab le o f g e n e r o s ity . . . . i t would be l i b e r a l and
handsome! (5) (my i t a l i c s )
Though John Dashwood thinks him self heroic and generous here, the
n a r r a t o r ’s tone shows t h a t she i s n o t im p re sse d . A fte r a l l , Mr.
Darcy gave even Mr. Wickham £3000, out of a promise le ss serious to
h i s f a t h e r th an John Dashwood’s to h i s own. The s i t u a t i o n s a re
comparable, for the l a t e Mr. Darcy had bequeathed to George Wickham
th e same amount, £1000, t h a t th e old Mr. Dashwood has l e f t to the
Dashwood s i s t e r s , though the comparison d ire c ts our notice anew to
the old man's stin g in ess to the women. Mr. Wickham was no r e la tio n
to old Mr. Darcy. The p o in t i s t h a t John Dashwood a lr e a d y th in k s
o f the e s t a t e and money as h is own in s p i t e o f th e f a c t t h a t he
could n o t re a so n a b ly have ex p ected to i n h e r i t so soon, and only a
tragedy has prevented the other Dashwoods from keeping the income
lo n g er.
Austen's humor here is not conservative. I t makes us ask why
John Dashwood could not have tre a te d h is inheritance as the other
Dashwoods' f o r even a few y e a rs . The la u g h te r we enjoy here
emphasizes the lin k between John Dashwood's lack of generosity and
222
his in a tte n tio n to h is s i s t e r s ' comfort. Fanny Dashwood tw is ts the
meaning of both when she argues against giving her in-law s anything
a t a l l ,
. . . i t s t r i k e s me t h a t they can want no a d d i t i o n a t
a l l . They w ill have ten thousand pounds divided amongst
them. I f th ey m arry, th ey w i l l be su re o f doing w e ll,
and i f th ey do n o t, th ey may a l l l i v e very c o m fo rta b ly
to g e th e r on the i n t e r e s t o f te n thousand pounds. . . .
The a s s i s t a n c e he [Henry Dashwood] th o u g h t o f , I dare
say , was only such as . . . lo o k in g o u t f o r a c o m fo rta b le
s m a ll house fo r them . . . how e x c e s s iv e ly c o m fo rta b le
your m o th e r- in - la w and h er d a u g h te rs may l i v e . . .
A lto g e th e r , th ey w i l l have f iv e hundred a - y e a r am ongst
them, and what on earth can four women want for more than
th a t? —They w ill liv e so cheap! Their housekeeping w ill
be n o th in g a t a l l . They w i l l have no c a r r i a g e , no
h o rs e s , and h a r d ly any s e r v a n t s ; th ey w i l l keep no
company, and can have no expences o f any kind! Only
co n ceiv e how c o m fo rta b le th ey w i l l be! (10-12) (my
i t a l i c s )
With Fanny Dashwood's speech, Austen demonstrates how dangerous is
women's i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w ith th e t r a d i t i o n a l s t r u c t u r e . John
Dashwood, though, is happy to be convinced not to give them money.
However l i t t l e four people who happen to be women might be supposed
to want, th is man and th is woman, a t l e a s t, are in s a tia b le .
But John and Fanny Dashwood also show us how g lib ly we want to
redefine comfort when we imagine i t for other people, esp e c ia lly
women. As Mary Crawford w ill say, "Nothing amuses me more than the
easy manner w ith which every body s e t t l e s th e abundance o f th o se
who have a g re a t deal le s s than themselves," while Henry Crawford
c o u n te rs w ith re a so n in g s i m i l a r to Fanny Dashwood's, " a l l t h a t
. . . i s e n t i r e l y c o m p a ra tiv e . B i r t h r i g h t and h a b i t must s e t t l e
the business." (226) Women usually have n eith er. E linor's family
223
/
w i l l have n o th in g and no ex p en ses, so th ey w i l l need no money,
Fanny g l o a t s . But A usten's p o in t in a ro u s in g the w ondering
la u g h te r we f e e l h e re , i s n o t to show t h a t E l i n o r 's fa m ily needs
money, fo r she and Edward m arry on l i t t l e more income than t h a t .
I n s te a d , we a re to see th e s tin g y h o s t i l i t y o f th o se c a v a l i e r
assumptions by which we gloss over oth ers' concerns. With them we
save more than money; we avoid spending our own a tte n tio n . Austen
d e m o n stra te s how we grudge any im a g in a tiv e le a p out o f our own
se lfish n e ss, and Mrs. Jennings, as w ell as Elinor, turns out to be
s p e c i a l in her g e n e ro u s, alw ay s to u c h in g , though som etim es
com ically crude, attem pts to comfort Marianne.
The b eg in n in g o f Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y te a c h e s us how to
i n t e r p r e t M arianne Dashwood’s shoddy, s e lf - d e c e i v e d r e f u s a l to
sympathize with Elinor. From John and Fanny Dashwood we learn th at
i t r e p r e s e n t s no t f e e l i n g r e a c t i n g a g a i n s t s e n se , as M arianne
h e rs e lf believ es, but ra th e r shows supremely ungenerous selfish n e ss
d is m is s in g as i n s i g n i f i c a n t what l i e s o u ts id e i t s e l f . The
b e g i n n i n g to S e n se and S e n s i b i l i t y i s l e s s i n t e g r a t e d than
su b seq u en t o n e s - - th e c o n n e c tio n betw een John Dashwood's la c k o f
g e n e r o s i t y and M arian n e's, old Mr. Dashwood's w i l l and Edward's
d i s i n h e r i t a n c e , and betw een E l i n o r 's g e n e r o s i t y and her s e l f -
r e s t r a i n t , a re e s t a b l i s h e d through sim p le j u x t a p o s i t i o n . The
n a rra to r f i r s t describes th e v a ry in g p e r s o n a l i t i e s o f E lin o r and
h e r s i s t e r s in the m id st of h er n a r r a t i o n o f John Dashwood's
decision not to give them money.
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The f i r s t m e n tio n o f E l i n o r Dashwood show s h e r i n a
c h a r a c t e r i s t i c a c t i o n , p r e v e n tin g a r u p tu r e in h e r fa m ily . Mrs.
Dashwood is induced to avoid a breach w ith John and Fanny Dashwood
by the " e n t r e a t y o f h e r e l d e s t g i r l . 1 1 (6) The n a r r a t o r then
describes the three s i s t e r s ; Elinor
possessed . . . stren g th of understanding and coolness of
ju d g m e n t . . . She had an e x c e l l e n t h e a r t ; — h e r
d i s p o s i t i o n was a f f e c t i o n a t e , and h er f e e l i n g s were
s tr o n g ; but she knew how to govern them . . . M arianne's
a b i l i t i e s w e r e , i n many r e s p e c t s , q u i t e e q u a l to
E l i n o r 's . She was s e n s i b l e and c l e v e r ; but e a g e r in
every th in g ; h e r so rro w s, h e r jo y s , could have no
moderation. (6)
Mrs. Dashwood and Marianne encourage each other "in the violence of
th e ir a f f lic tio n " over Henry Dashwood's death, but Elinor, though
she "too was deeply a f f l i c t e d , " could y e t " s tr u g g le " and " e x e rt
h e rse lf" to "consult with her brother, . . . receive her s i s t e r - i n -
law on h er a r r i v a l , and t r e a t h e r w ith p ro p er a t t e n t i o n . " (7)
W e see Elinor's courtesy here, but only through wondering re
re a d in g do we come to u n d e rsta n d the i d e n t i t y between p o l i t e
a tte n tio n and generosity. Tave has shown the importance of E linor's
exertio n s, and Morgan has shown how n e ith e r Austen's novels nor her
po rtray al of Elinor Dashwood v a lu e s sense over s e n s i b i l i t y ; th ey
are complementary q u a litie s , each necessary to the o t h e r . ^ What I
am suggesting is th a t through the beginning of th i s novel, Austen
shows how sense and s e n s i b i l i t y a c t ou t t h e i r i n t e r r e l a t e d n e s s
through im a g in a tiv e g e n e r o s i t y . E lin o r a c t u a l l y has s tr o n g e r
feelin g s than Marianne does, because her emotions do not f a l l into
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c l i c h e s , but she r e s t r a i n s t h e i r e x h i b i t i o n out o f c are f o r th e
co m fo rt of o th e r s . She is g en ero u s. But M arianne's s e l f -
in d u lg en ce a r i s e s from s e l f i s h n e s s and i n a t t e n t i o n to o th e r
p eo p le. E lin o r has no f r ie n d who can sy m p ath ize w ith h er p ain
because h e r m other and s i s t e r a re c o n t i n u a l l y ungenerous to h e r.
Although they love her, they u n in ten tio n ally judge her harshly and
wrongly, u n ju stly accusing her of lack of feeling. Elinor s u ffe rs,
stru g g les, and hopes alone, because no one troubles to imagine her
discom fort. Only Fanny Price su ffe rs more from in a tte n tio n .
In Mansfield Park, Austen extends her p o rtray al of loneliness
in to the image of an "orphan." The n a rra tiv e amusement begins more
im m e d ia te ly th an in th e fo rm er Fam ily H e rita g e n o v e l, though i t
describes a s im ila r fam ily h isto ry . The orphan image has added a
new a n g le : th e q u e s tio n o f u s e f u ln e s s and p la c e , a q u e s tio n
p re s e n te d a s a woman's is s u e . The young men a l l e i t h e r i n h e r i t
money or are helped to a profession. They know th a t they can take
c a re o f th e m s e lv e s , so f e e l s e c u re , c o n f id e n t t h a t th ey earn a
p la c e fo r th e m se lv e s. But Fanny P r ic e , from f e e l i n g dependent,
stru g g les with feelin g s of unentitlem ent, th a t pain which fem in ist
psychologists now id e n tify as a frequent issue for women. Elinor
Dashwood, f o r a l l h e r s o l i t a r y s u f f e r i n g , i s n o t a lo n e . She i s
h e a rte n e d by being a b le to h e lp both h e r m other and s i s t e r , and
g e t t i n g to know Mrs. Je n n in g s. F u rth e rm o re , E lin o r knows t h a t
Edward F e r r a r s lo v e s h e r. Fanny P r ic e , on th e o th e r hand, f e e l s
t h a t she has no p la c e and no u se; Edmund Bertram lo v e s h er as a
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s i s t e r , but i s o f te n i n a t t e n t i v e to h e r ; — worse y e t , he ad m ire s
Mary Crawford. No one else sympathizes with Fanny a t a l l . But she
w i l l le a r n t h a t in s p i t e o f t h i s she does have v a lu e , u se , and a
home. Mansfield Park dram atizes how even the most insecure, le a s t
valued o f us can c r e a t e a p la c e f o r o u r s e lv e s from which to
p a r t i c i p a t e , even though we are h in d e re d by an u n ju s t system and
even i f our fam ily does not o ffe r p erfect sympathy.
A usten's p o in t i s t h a t few do. She w i l l l a t e r c r e a te Anne
E l l i o t , who, though u n a p p re c ia te d by f a t h e r and one s i s t e r , i s
nevertheless needed and valued by many, and lik e Elinor Dashwood,
i s more capable than any other ch aracter in her novel. That is why
Mansfield Park, where the orphan finds a place, a feelin g of home
to c a r r y w ith h e r, em p h asizes a t i t s b eg in n in g and end, no t
Edmund's a f f e c t i o n , but t h a t o f S i r Thomas. When we f a n t a s i z e
ab o u t how Fanny c o n tin u e s a f t e r th e no v el ends, we a re to enjoy
Fanny's r e la tio n to S ir Thomas even more than to Edmund—her spouse
has loved Fanny a l l a lo n g , so we may tak e f o r g ra n te d h e r co m fo rt
with him. But her feelin g confident with and beloved by S ir Thomas
i s new and wonderful.
Fanny was indeed the d a u g h te r t h a t he [ S ir Thomas]
w anted. . . . A fte r s e t t l i n g h e r a t Thornton Lacey w ith
every kind a tte n tio n to her comfort, the object of almost
every day was to see her t h e r e , o r to g e t h er away from
i t . (472) (my i t a l i c s )
W e are to be moved by how an "orphan," a woman in v is ib le because of
the ways prev ailin g custom ignores powerless women, has now become
valued and loved.
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The co m fo rt t h a t s p rin g s from a t t e n t i o n i s as c e n t r a l to
Mansfield Park as to Sense and S e n s ib ility , but the issue has not
been d is c u s s e d because th e opening has been l a r g e l y o v erlo o k ed .
Fanny’s gradual progress is l i t e r a l l y from the discom forts of fear
and i n s e c u r i t y to "the home o f a f f e c t i o n and co m fo rt" she w i l l
share with Edmund. The orphan who "can never be im portant to any
one" (26) a t M a n sfie ld Park because she i s only a poor r e l a t i o n ,
f in d s w h ile l i v i n g w ith h e r " re a l" p a r e n ts a t P o rtsm o u th , t h a t
M an sfield i s a f t e r a l l h e r home. She l e a r n s to see t h a t she has
f i l l e d a useful place there, and i f suppressed, has been inh ib ited
by h e r own f e a r s a s w e ll as by Mrs. N o r ris 's ty ra n n y and o t h e r s '
in d iffe re n c e .
Fanny's p o s i t i o n a t M an sfield Park has no t been what Henry
Crawford d e s c r ib e s i t , though he rh a p so d iz e s w ith a te m p tin g ly
hyperbolic view of her s itu a tio n , "dependent, h elp le ss, frie n d le s s,
n e g le c te d , f o r g o tte n ." (297) Fanny i s n e i t h e r h e l p l e s s nor
frie n d le ss; she is neglected but not forgotten, and as the niece of
S ir Thomas she i s no more dependent th an she would be i f she
married Henry Crawford. W e can id e n tify Austen’s use of the orphan
image in her p o rtray al of Fanny as fem in ist because i t connects the
external circum stances of a c u ltu ra l organization for the ben efit
of males with Fanny's lack of secure feelin g s, but shows how we can
le a r n to cope w ith i t s o p p re ss io n . S i g n i f i c a n t l y , Fanny has a t
l e a s t th r e e tim e s as many p a r e n t - f i g u r e s as any o th e r Austen
p r o ta g o n is t ex c e p t C a th e rin e Morland: Lady Bertram, S ir Thomas,
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Mrs. N o r ris , Mrs. and Mr. P r ic e , and even, a t f i r s t , Edmund
B ertram . Austen shows how women o fte n f e e l orphaned and may be
t r a i n e d to i n s e c u r i t y , but may a ls o develop th e power t h a t comes
from f in d in g a p la c e and o c c u p a tio n s - - n o t in the ’’b u s tl e " which
ch aracterize s Mrs. Norris and Henry Crawford—but in Fanny P rice's
a f f e c t i o n a t e u s e f u l n e s s . Our l a s t p i c t u r e o f the orphan-
protagonist e sta b lish e s her in M an sfield Parsonage which, though
she had feared i t a l l the time i t was tenanted by the Norrises and
th e G ra n ts, ’’soon grew a s d ear to h er h e a r t , and as th o ro u g h ly
p e r f e c t in h er ey es, as every th in g e l s e , w it h i n the view and
p a tro n a g e o f M a n sfie ld Park had long been." (473) Fanny cannot
change the culture singlehanded. None of us can. But she is able
to do what women today work toward: e s ta b lis h a place for h e rs e lf
and learn to fe e l a t home where she formerly f e l t afraid .
Lady Bertram has a tta in e d a d iff e r e n t end, one of wealth and
im p o rta n c e , and h e rs i s the c o n c lu sio n t h a t b eg in s Fanny's s to r y .
The opening h isto ry which s t a r t s Mansfield Park s e ts the terms for
the change in Fanny’s sense of her own influence, and of what makes
a person important.
About th i r t y years ago, Miss Maria Ward, o f Huntingdon,
w ith only seven thousand pounds, had th e good luck to
cap tiv ate S ir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park, in the
county o f N orthham pton, and to be th e re b y r a i s e d to th e
rank o f a b a r o n e t's la d y , w ith a l l th e c o m fo rts and
consequences of an handsome house and large income. (3)
(my i t a l i c s )
Austen opens the novel with exactly those things which Fanny w ill
seem to la c k . Because th e main c h a r a c t e r p o s s e s s e s n e i t h e r th e
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c o m fo rts nor th e consequences o f house and income which Lady
Bertram has won, both Fanny h e rs e lf and Mrs. Norris fancy th a t she
can never be im portant. Lady Bertram got them by "captivating” S ir
Thomas, but Fanny cannot do th a t because there is not "much in her
f i r s t appearance to c a p t i v a t e " h er new fa m ily . (12) However,
Fanny w i l l not win h e r p la c e by mere c a p t i v a t i o n . We know t h a t
Austen sees f i r s t appearances as ever only p a r t ia l, but we should
s u s p e c t a t a l e n t fo r c a p t i v a t i n g anyway, because in P rid e and
Prejudice Mr. Wickham’s manners have "captivating softness," (180)
and Mr. Bennet was "captivated" by Mrs. Bennet's youth, beauty, and
appearance of good humor. (236) Henry Crawford o ffe rs Fanny th a t
mode o f a c h ie v in g c o m fo rt, bu t in h is f u tu r e a c t i o n s and h is
d estru c tiv e r e la tio n w ith Maria Rushworth, we see i t s consequences.
The beginning of Mansfield Park is very funny, though we may
not fe e l i t the f i r s t time. I t is a deadpanned presen tatio n of the
p a t r i a r c h y 's old f a i r y - t a l e fo rm u la , w ith a l l the m ercenary
in te r e s ts which are meant to make women conform included, and a l l
the v is ib le romance l e f t out. Lady Bertram got S ir Thomas by "good
lu c k ," a phenomenon alw ays open to m u l t i p l e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n in
A usten, but e s p e c i a l l y dubious here because o f i t s i d e n t i t y w ith
Mary Crawford's serious re a c tio n when Henry Crawford r e v e a l s h is
d e s i r e to m arry Fanny: "Lucky, lucky g i r l ! " (292) But Fanny i s
not ambitious for th a t kind of luck, and the beginning shows th a t
she i s r i g h t . Indeed the whole h i s t o r y o f th e l a s t g e n e r a t i o n ,
while i t depicts the q u a litie s and advantages Fanny does not have,
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also portrays in revealingly humorous terms the ends and choices to
which, in sp ite of pressure from rep re se n ta tiv e s of the s ta tu s quo,
she w ill not r e s t r i c t h e rse lf.
All Huntingdon exclaimed on the greatness of the match,
and her uncle, the lawyer, him self, allowed her to be a t
le a s t three thousand pounds short of any equitable claim
to i t . She had two s i s t e r s to be b e n e f ite d by h e r
elev atio n ; and such of th e ir acquaintance as thought Miss
Ward and Miss F rances q u i t e as handsome as Miss M aria,
did no t s c ru p le to p r e d i c t t h e i r m arry in g w ith a lm o st
equal advantage. But there c e rta in ly are not so many men
of large fortune in the world, as there are p re tty women
to deserve them. (3)
Austen i s h i l a r i o u s h ere as she shapes in fun th e s i t u a t i o n s
and issu es which Fanny w ill face. Mary Crawford w ill exclaim about
Fanny's chance to marry Henry Crawford exactly as "a ll Huntingdon"
exclaims about the "greatness" of Maria Ward's match. W e fe e l an
i n i t i a l sense of fun a t hearing about th is f i r s t marriage, but also
l e a r n from our l a u g h t e r how we a re to u n d e rsta n d Mary C raw ford's
tendencies of thought. She is conventionally mercenary. So, too,
i s S i r Thomas. Austen ex ten d s h er image o f t h i s u s u a l re sp o n se ;
th e s w i f t p i c t u r e o f th e l a w y e r u n c l e who n e g o t i a t e d th e
s e t t l e m e n t s , im agined in a f l e e t i n g h a l f - s e n t e n c e , c o n ju r e s up
s i l l y v i s i o n s of what i s f a i r , " e q u i t a b l e ," in m arrying. By
deprecatingly adm itting th a t Maria Ward had no "equitable claim" to
m arry S i r Thomas, and by c a l c u l a t i n g even in p r e c i s e pounds th e
e x a c t degree o f th e i n e q u i t y , he makes m a rria g e l e s s th an Austen
conceives i t to be.
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Austen portrays th i s kind of reckoning as ludicrous, and w ill
l a t e r depict i t s consequences in Emma Woodhouse, whose matchmaking
embodies th a t reductive figuring. Anne E llio t w ill refuse to worry
a t a l l about the d i s p a r i t y betw een Frederick Wentworth’s fortune
and her own. With th a t g estu re, Austen dism isses the question of
equitable claim s, a t le a s t of money, in a r e la tio n which should be
founded on love and character. S ir Thomas him self w ill learn th is :
’’sick of ambitious and mercenary connections, prizing more and more
th e s t e r l i n g good o f p r i n c i p l e and te m p e r ,” he w i l l have in
granting his ”joyful consent” to the marriage of Fanny and Edmund,
"a high sense of having re a liz e d a g re a t a c q u isitio n in the promise
of Fanny for a daughter.” (472) Even though S ir Thomas and Edmund
have a l l the money, they g e t a l l the benefit.
The b eg in n in g shows t h a t we should no t tak e s e r i o u s l y Mrs.
N orris's h o s tile d ia trib e s about the meagerness o f Fanny's claim s
to a t t e n t i o n and a f f e c t i o n . The opening a ls o makes th e term s
" b e n e f i t ” and " e le v a tio n " la u g h a b le ; Henry C raw ford's d e s i r e to
g iv e "consequence" to Fanny sounds s u s p i c i o u s l y s i m i l a r , and
e x a c tly echoes Mr. Darcy when he ru d e ly r e f u s e s to dance w ith
E liz a b e th Bennet in h er h e a r in g , because he d i s l i k e s g iv in g
"consequence to young la d ie s who are slig h ted by other men." (12)
In a novel about what kind of place women can f i l l and what kind of
consequence women may claim , in s p ite of the p atria rch y , the whole
b eg in n in g i s ph rased in terras o f c l a i m s , e l e v a t i o n , b e n e f i t , and
ad v an tag e. The f a c t t h a t only th o se people who th o u g h t Lady
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Bertram's s i s t e r s as handsome as she hazarded p redictions th a t they
would m arry "w ith a lm o st eq u al a d v a n ta g e ," c o n t r iv e s to make us
la u g h in g ly sense th e s e r io u s n e s s w ith which we c a re ab o u t such
elevation. W e can hear the echo when Mary Crawford announces,
I would have every body marry i f they can do i t properly;
I do not lik e to have people throw themselves away; but
every body should m arry as soon as th ey can do i t to
advantage. (*13)
She is coldly in ea rn e st.
The c lim a x in the whole upside-dow n f a i r y t a l e which opens
M a n sfie ld Park r e v e r s e s th e c u l t u r e ’s fo rm u la f o r romance, th e
co n v en tio n t h a t a b e a u t i f u l woman w i l l i n e v i t a b l y win a r ic h
husband, in a s tu n n in g ly m y ste rio u s pronouncem ent: "But t h e r e
c e r t a i n l y a re n o t so many men o f la r g e f o rtu n e in th e w orld, as
th e r e a r e p r e t t y women to d e serv e them." (3) Most people f e e l
th a t we deserve advantage. The cu ltu re teaches th a t women earn i t
by being b e a u tifu l, but Mansfield Park w ill demonstrate th a t other
q u a l i t i e s a re more r a r e and more v a lu a b le . The handsome Ward
s i s t e r s , as w ell as the Bertram and Price women and Mary Crawford,
are j u s t s e v e r a l o f a p r e t t y crowd "d ese rv in g " o r f e e l i n g a b le to
"claim " men o f la r g e f o rtu n e because o f t h e i r own b e a u ty --a n
a t t r i b u t e y e t so common t h a t even Lydia Bennet b o a s ts i t .
Therefore,
Miss Ward, a t th e end of h a l f a dozen y e a r s , found
h e r s e l f o b l i g e d t o be a t t a c h e d to t h e Rev. Mr.
N o rris . . . w ith s c a r c e l y any p r iv a te f o r tu n e , and Miss
Frances fared yet worse. . . . she married, in the common
p h ra se , to d i s o b l i g e h e r fa m ily . . . To save h e r s e l f
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from useless remonstrance, Mrs. Price never wrote to her
fam ily on the su b ject t i l l a c tu a lly married. (3)
In t h e i r a n x ie ty f o r m atrim ony, Mrs. N o rris and Mrs. P ric e have
r e p l i c a t e d , r e s p e c t i v e l y , C h a r lo tte Lucas's and Lydia B ennet's
means o f m arry in g . Fanny, though, w i l l copy n e i t h e r ; but o f th e
Bertram women, Maria w ill oblige h e rse lf to marry Mr. Rushworth,
and J u lia w ill run o ff w ith Mr. Yates.
The d i s c u s s io n o f w hether to adopt Fanny fo llo w s t h i s
n a rra tiv e h isto ry of how women often marry, and her introduction
in t o the fa m ily in tr u e " C in d e r e lla " - f a s h io n , l e t s us know t h a t
h o m e le ssn e ss w ith in th e home i s th e is s u e . But i f we confound
M a n sfie ld P a rk 's m eaning, and a re d is a p p o in te d in Fanny's l a t e r
d is c o m f o r t w ith h er r o l e as C i n d e r e l l a - a t - t h e - b a l l d u rin g S ir
Thomas's dance, th en we have only to look a t the b e g in n in g to
u n d e rsta n d why Fanny i s n o t g r a t i f i e d or co m fo rted w ith such a
s u p e rfic ia l increase of consequence—i t is a p a tria rc h a l myth. She
a lr e a d y has consequence w ith th e people she c a r e s a b o u t: Lady
Bertram, Edmund, S ir Thomas, and William. Her time a t the b a ll is
ch ie fly spent in wondering about Edmund's a ffe c tio n s. What Fanny
g a in s i s c o n fid e n c e , o f a c e r t a i n a f f e c t i o n a t e k in d , in h e r own
a b i l i t y to be useful to these people whom she loves. Her happiness
does n o t r e q u ir e t h a t she become what McDonnell has c a l l e d "the
heroine of an e ro tic t e x t . " ^
• « • * •
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The b e g in n in g s o f both Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y and M an sfield
Park point to how those novels are organized, to the values which
shape the way we are to understand the protagonists and the kind of
a c t i o n s in which th ey a re engaged. S t u a r t Tave has shown how
Persuasion i s organized around the way th a t no one l is te n s to Anne
E llio t. This is completely tru e , and opens the novel up in a fine
way. Yet, though many characters do not l i s t e n to Anne, i t is she
who has th e most in f lu e n c e in the n o v e l, who i s the most a b le to
g e t th in g s done. Anne i s n o t so p e r s e c u te d , so c o n t i n u a l l y under
t h r e a t , as the p r o ta g o n is t s o f A usten's Fam ily H e rita g e n o v e ls.
Anne E llio t h e ro ic a lly a c ts to help others during emergencies, but
usually the emergencies are someone else 's. When they are her own,
sh e, l i k e E liz a b e th B ennet, i s a b le to g e t th ro u g h them w ith o u t
anyone s u s p e c tin g . But E lin o r Dashwood and Fanny P ric e are
co n tinually threatened with emergencies of t h e i r own, th re a ts which
endanger them more p e r s o n a lly , w h ile o th e r c h a r a c t e r s watch.
Whether they can make themselves heard becomes an issue of c r i s i s .
Elinor Dashwood is more honest than Marianne. Marianne brags
ab o u t how she has f in e g ra n d io se p r i n c i p l e s , but what she r e a l l y
has i s a more common a m b itio n , th e d e s ir e to be w ealth y . When
M a rg a re t, " s t r i k i n g out a novel th o u g h t," w ish e s " t h a t someone
would g iv e us a l l a la r g e fo rtu n e a p ie c e ! ," (92) M arianne chim es
i n , "Oh t h a t they would!" That Austen does n o t have tim e f o r
people who waste fu lly wish for such a cliche is made c le a r by her
to n e. But M arianne, f o r a l l h e r vaunted i n d i f f e r e n c e to money,
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misuses her time wishing for u n in te re stin g im p o s s ib ilitie s . Austen
l e t s us know t h a t we a re not to t r u s t what M arianne says about
h e rse lf, or her a tta c k s on Elinor. She says she is in d iffe re n t to
money, but she i s n o t. She f l a i l s a t E lin o r fo r g re e d , because
Elinor is honest about a fam ily ’s need for money, a "wealth” which
tu r n s out to be h a l f as much as M arianne's "com petence." (91)
Marianne is only quite s e lf is h instead. She has no s e n s i b i l i t y for
o t h e r p e o p l e , and n o t h i n g p e r s o n a l i n h e r own a f f e c t i o n s .
Marianne's "heart was hardened" (201) a g a i n s t a lm o st everyone but
her mother and John Willoughby. With other people, "she judged of
th e ir motives by the immediate e ffe c t of t h e i r actions on h erself."
(202) This i s what E lin o r does not do. M arianne i s un ab le to
d istin g u ish how much oth ers' behavior has to do w ith th e i r feelin g s
toward her, and how much i t springs from the s itu a tio n they are in.
The g r e a t e s t g i f t fro m E l i n o r ' s s a n e u s e o f h e r own
boundaries, the d iv isio n between h e rse lf and other people, is the
development of her feelin g s toward Edward a f t e r she finds out about
h i s engagem ent. What E lin o r does i s to d i s t i n g u i s h how much
Edward's b e h a v io r, h i s engagement to Lucy S t e e l e , has to do w ith
h e r , and what i t say s about him. She t r i e s to u n d e rsta n d him
s e p a r a t e l y from h e r own p a in . I t i s a d i f f i c u l t p ro c e s s . F i r s t ,
Elinor accepts a l l the evidence which confirms the tru th of Lucy's
sto ry ; i t "overcame every fear of condemning him [Edward] u n fa irly ,
and established as a f a c t, which no p a r t i a l i t y could s e t aside, his
il l- tr e a tm e n t of h erself." (139) E lin o r re c o g n iz e s t h a t Edward,
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lik e Henry Crawford to Maria and J u lia Bertram, or Frank Churchill
to Emma Woodhouse, has no t a c te d w e ll by h e r, has "led h er on.”
Austen t e l l s us how "Her re s e n tm e n t o f such b e h a v io u r, h er
indignation a t having been i t s dupe, for a short time made her fe e l
only for herself." Elinor, as she ought, allow s h e rs e lf thoroughly
to f e e l h e r own p a in , a n g e r, s e l f - p r o t e c t i o n , and sen se o f
b etrayal. She does not hide from or repress her own feelin g s. She
f e e l s them; she a llo w s them f u l l y ; she i s no t f rig h te n e d o f them.
E lin o r does no t sto p th e co u rse o f h e r own sense o f l o s s , and her
feelin g s of having been i l l - t r e a t e d .
Because Elinor allows th a t process, she does not get stuck in
i t , but i s a b le to move on, as " o th e r i d e a s , o th e r c o n s id e r a t i o n s
soon arose." Her imagination moves out toward Edward, as Dorothea
Brooke's w i l l l a t e r in c lu d e Rosamund Lydgate: "Had Edmund been
in te n tio n a lly deceiving her? Had he feigned a regard for her which
he did not feel? Was h is engagement to Lucy, an engagement of the
h e a r t? " (140) What E lin o r r e a l i z e s i s t h a t the answ er to a l l
these questions i s "No; whatever i t might once have been, she could
not believe i t such a t present." By comparing in th is way, Elinor
can assure h e rse lf, can know, th a t "His a ffe c tio n was a l l her own.
She could not be deceived in that."
The c u lm in a tio n o f t h i s p ro c e ss i s E l i n o r 's f e e l i n g , very
s tr o n g in i t s t r u t h , "He c e r t a i n l y loved h er." (140) This
assurance, th is acknowledgment of something outside h e rs e lf, leads
E lin o r to f o r g iv e n e s s , "What a s o f t e n e r o f th e h e a r t was t h i s
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persuasion! How much could i t not tempt her to forgive!” She can
see Edward's f a u lt without ceasing to fe e l sympathy for him.
"He had been blameable, highly blameable, in remaining a t
Norland a f t e r he f i r s t f e l t her influence over him to be
more th an i t ought to be. In t h a t , he could no t be
defended; but i f he had injured her, how much more had he
injured h im se lf."
In com paring h er p l i g h t w ith Edw ard's, E lin o r i s a b le to f e e l fo r
them b oth. She i s a ls o a b le to know th e d i f f e r e n c e betw een them.
Edward w ill be committed forever to a marriage with someone he does
n o t lo v e , w h ile she w i l l be f r e e to f a l l in love a n o th e r tim e .
Elinor is able to be more r e s i l i e n t than Marianne p recisely because
she does b e lie v e in f u t u r e a f f e c t i o n s , and in th e w orth of th e
a ffe c tio n s other than th at she cherishes for Edward even now. This
love does n o t have to be th e only one o f h e r l i f e , th e s o le
defining act. Elinor is able to cope because she is open, through
h e r s t r e n g t h , to th e tr u e problem , as M arianne never i s . The
a c tu a l problem is th a t she and Edward are divided even though they
love each o th e r . The problem i s not what M arianne w i l l th in k i t
i s , t h a t h e r l i f e i s over. I t i s t h a t she w i l l have a m is e ra b le
tim e, but w ill be open to a future which w ill o ffe r consolation and
other in te r e s ts . I t is th a t Edward, whom she cares about, may not
have a happy l i f e .
This d i f f e r e n c e betw een th e s i s t e r s p o in ts to two d i f f e r e n t
modes of f a llin g in love. Elinor g ets to know Edward and lik e him
p e r s o n a l l y , as an i n d i v i d u a l p erso n in s te a d o f a c c o rd in g to a
prearranged l i s t of categories he must f u l f i l l . She f a l l s in love
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w ith a p erso n who had engaged h i m s e l f to someone e l s e fo u r y e a rs
b e fo re . But M arianne lo v e s John W illoughby f o r "im p e rso n a l"
r e a s o n s , f o r h i s "manly b e a u ty ," " h is name [w h ich ] was good," h i s
"becoming" " s h o o t i n g - j a c k e t ," so t h a t she never knows th e most
fu n d am en tal f a c t s ab o u t him: h i s v ic io u s s e d u c tio n o f E liz a
W illiams, his se lfish n e ss , h is in te n tio n to f l i r t h e a rtle s s ly with
Marianne h e rse lf, and h is u ltim a te in te n tio n of never returning to
Barton Cottage.
M arianne, l i k e E l i n o r , f a l l s in love w ith someone who is
engaged to a n o th e r p e rso n , but i n s t e a d o f i t s being an a g e -o ld
engagem ent, i t i s one formed a f t e r he has met and le a rn e d to love
her. In th e i r g u llib le a ffe c tio n fo r John Willoughby’s sickeningly
fake charm and t h e i r d is ta s te for Edward, c r i t i c s have overlooked
th e f a c t t h a t Mr. W illoughby does what Edward would n ev er do— he
s e l l s him self into marriage for money. Like Henry Crawford, he has
been read as a rep re se n ta tiv e of passion, but what he a c tu a lly only
shows is greed. He has not enough passion to be true to Marianne.
Many r e a d e r s tak e f o r g r a n te d th e v i r t u e o f Edward's r e f u s a l to
m arry Miss Morton, and g l o s s too b l i t h e l y over Mr. W illoughby's
money-grubbing marriage to Miss Grey. Readers a ls o o v e rlo o k th e
f a c t t h a t E l i n o r 's form o f s e n s i b i l i t y , o f lo v e , a c t u a l l y , has
a t t r a c t e d h e r to a good, i n t e r e s t i n g p e rso n , whom she knows w e ll
enough to be su re t h a t he lo v e s h e r and n o t Lucy. M arianne's
c l i c h e s w i l l n o t t e l l h e r t h a t . She knows John W illoughby so
l i t t l e t h a t she th in k s he never loved h e r , t h a t he may even have
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wanted to seduce h er as he did E liz a . She has to be to ld by Mr.
W illoughby, th ro u g h E lin o r , t h a t t h i s i s no t t r u e , t h a t he loved
her but was too s e lf is h to declare i t , to marry her without money.
T h a t i s n o t ro m an ce f o r A u s te n , n o r s h o u ld i t be f o r
fem in ists. Romance means loving someone in a new, personal way,
where women have power, can t e l l t h a t men love them, and do no t
have to w a it in m a s o c h is tic agony and a d d i c t i o n f o r i t to be
d e c la re d b e fo re we base any hope on i t , o r can depend on i t .
Romance i s n o t a p r e s c r i p t i o n to be fo llo w e d , because th e
estab lish ed p re sc rip tio n s follow m isogynistic ru le s. The romance
in Austen's novels includes freedom from anti-w om en c o n v e n tio n s,
co n v e n tio n s which say M arianne must be re sc u e d , l i t e r a l l y and
fig u ra tiv e ly , from a lonely l i f e w ithout a man. Elinor is in need
o f no such r e s c u e , and fo r t h a t v ery s t r e n g t h , many r e a d e r s have
d islik e d h e r . 1®
What i s p e c u l i a r about th e f a c t t h a t many r e a d e rs do not
ad m ire E l i n o r 's power, i s t h a t th ey seem n o t to ap p ly A usten's
f ic tio n to our circumstances today. Doing th is w ill both save us
from mistakes about Austen and may even help us make decisions in
our own liv e s. The e rro r is th a t Marianne, in her agony, is a good
model f o r us, a f r e e , b o ld , f e m i n i s t w h ile E lin o r i s only a
c o n s e r v a t i v e , s u b s e r v i e n t to th e p a tr ia r c h y , a P hyllis Schlaffly
preaching obedience to the lib e ra te d Marianne. But today would we
r e a lly applaud a woman who abandons h e rs e lf and a l l hopes for her
s e p a r a te l i f e , f o r , f i r s t , love o f a man, and second, to mourning
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o v er how he b e tra y e d h e r? No, we would n o t. We hope t h a t women
lik e Marianne can become more responsible for ourselves, can cease
d e f in in g o u r s e lv e s s o l e l y a c c o rd in g to our r e l a t i o n to o th e r
people. W e look for ways to support, take care of ourselves, to be
l e s s dependent on a man f o r th e h a p p in e ss o f our l i v e s . We want
th e r e s p o n s i b i l i t y o f an in d e p e n d e n t l i f e , however we may love
o t h e r s . I su g g e st t h a t th e a n im o s ity t r a d i t i o n a l l y d i r e c t e d a t
Elinor springs from how we have been taught to re c o il from powerful
women. Many r e a d e r s d e p lo re E l i n o r ’s d i g n i t y as an in d ep en d en t
person; they are u ninterested in her strength, her in sig h t, and her
f e m i n i s t r e s i l i e n c e . What th ey adm ire in s te a d i s M arianne's
t r a d i t i o n a l w eakness, h e r s e l f - d e s t r u c t i o n , h e r dependence on a
hero to form and deform h e r d e s tin y . We need to l e a r n to adm ire
E l i n o r 's s t r e n g t h , h e r power to see and f e e l , as G eorgiana Darcy
lo oks up to E liz a b e th Bennet, i n s t e a d o f f in d in g p a l a t a b l e only
women's weakness and t r a d i t i o n a l bondage. We need to le a r n to
admire women.
In Marianne, c r i t i c s often defend q u a litie s they would never
approve in men. The problem w ith th e t r a d i t i o n a l form o f th e
c u l t u r e 's a p p ro v a l o f women, i s t h a t to be the b e s t woman, one
becomes only good enough f o r a woman. We can see t h i s in th e
c u ltu re 's a ttitu d e to any cheerleader or beauty queen. They escape
c a v i l s o f being " u n fe m in in e ," but t h a t i s a l l . They a r e f i n a l l y
seen as s i l l y and inadequate: p re tty , but dumb. There is nothing
women can do th a t wins us what Mary Ellman has called gender-free
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approval, for women's successes are f e l t as threatening to viewers.
C ritic s have applauded Marianne Dashwood as the best a woman can
be. What th ey have o v erlooked in t h e i r anim us tow ard E lin o r
Dashwood, i s t h a t she i s th e b e s t a person can be. But t h a t , in a
c u ltu re which seeks to ignore women, provokes h o s t i l i t y lik e th a t
of s c ie n ti s t s to Marie Curie, doctors to Clara Barton or Margaret
S anger, or t h a t o f Henry James to Austen h e r s e l f . No one l i k e s
having to admire the achievements of women because to do so grants
us a u t h o r i t y , power. Women's being humanly a d m ira b le f r i g h t e n s
v ie w e rs . But M arianne Dashwood i s no t t h r e a t e n i n g , because her
being the best i s never seen as a th re a t to men's su p e rio rity .
Elinor Dashwood is strong in a way Austen's novels portray as
p a r tic u la rly im portant. What Elinor does for Edward i s what Mr.
Darcy learn s to do for Elizabeth Bennet. They think of themselves
f i r s t , a re an g ry , th en th in k o f Edward and E liz a b e th and why th ey
acted as they did. This is an empathy P h ilip Elton w ill be unable
to give Emma Woodhouse, as he nurses h is resentment even a f t e r he
has married another woman, and which a youthful Frederick Wentworth
w ill so w astefully be unable to devote to Anne E llio t in 1806. He
w ill not learn to imagine Anne's ra tio n a le u n t i l eig h t years and a
h a lf l a t e r .
Elinor is not only s e lf-p ro te c tiv e , but able to be generous, a
g i f t her se lf-n u rtu rin g gives her; she i s able to nurture others in
good ways. Not as Marianne does, taking care of John Willoughby in
ways she should not: staying home to see him, as i f she is a t the
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mercy o f h is coming only once, as i f he would no t v i s i t a g a in i f
he found her not in. Elinor responds to the outside world; she can
a c c e p t th e t r u t h , "su p p o rted as i t was too on every s id e b y >such
p r o b a b ilitie s and proofs, and contradicted by nothing but her own
w ish es." (139) E lin o r i s sa n e , an in n o v a tiv e v i s i o n o f f e m i n i s t
san ity in co n trast to the self-induced illn e s s sported by Marianne,
whose i n a b i l i t y to cope w ith h e r own needs and d is a p p o in tm e n ts
fo llo w s th e s e n ti m e n t a l p a t t e r n . "Marianne would have th o u g h t
h e r s e l f v ery in e x c u s a b le had she been a b le to s le e p a t a l l th e
f i r s t n ig h t a f t e r p a r t i n g from W illoughby," i s only one example
among many. E lin o r , though, a llo w s h e r s e l f to go th ro u g h th e
process of reactin g to Edward's engagement without g e ttin g stuck in
her anger or hurt. Elinor i s not a "conformist." She is instead a
new image fo r how a woman can both r e f u s e to conform , and brave
o t h e r s ' h o s t i l i t y f o r h e r r e f u s a l . What E lin o r fa c e s in Mrs.
Dashwood's and M arianne's h a rsh c r i t i c i s m s i s th e s ta n d a rd
m alignity of h o s tile observers to strong women in th is cultu re.
E l i n o r 's r e s e r v e i s som ething which p r o t e c t s h e r. I t i s a
q u a lity no one q uarrels w ith in men, fo r i t is seen as p a rt of what
makes them s tr o n g and manly. No one f a u l t s Mr. Bennet f o r i t in
P rid e and P r e ju d ic e , or men who f a l l i n t o c a t e g o r i e s I c a l l th e
"sage" and the "John Wayne" ty p e s . I t i s a s t r e n g t h , a s e l f
p ro tectio n we ro u tin ely grant men. What Austen does in Sense and
S e n s i b i l i t y i s c laim t h i s s t r e n g t h , t h i s s e l f - p r o t e c t i o n , f o r
women. She also dram atizes what i t s process fe e ls lik e so we may
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recognize i t in ourselves. I think th a t the problem many readers
have had with Elinor Dashwood is th a t they are used to p ic tu re s of
women which are made for male eyes, where every feeling i s shown,
where women f a in t in screaming agony, because the emotion must be
demonstrated for male readers or viewers. That is Marianne. But
E lin o r Dashwood is o f f e r e d , n o t so we may adm ire h e r from the
o u ts id e - - th o u g h we ought indeed adm ire t h a t b e a u t i f u l , r e a l l y
a s to u n d in g c o u r a g e -- b u t so t h a t we can f e e l i t from the in s i d e .
Sense and S e n s ib ility o ffe rs us a r e l a t i o n to c h a r a c t e r which i s
humanity imaged as a woman’s struggles with her l i f e , which we are
meant to see not a e s th e tic a lly , but to fe e l our deep kinship with.
That, a t l e a s t , i s what we should do f i r s t . Then we can re v e re
both E lin o r Dashwood and h e r a u th o r f o r what th ey a re a b le to do
and to be.
Our r e l a t i o n to E l i n o r 's a d m ira b le r e s e r v e r e p r e s e n t s the
d i f f e r e n c e betw een re sp o n d in g to fem ale c h a r a c t e r s as ty p e s , as
o n e -d im e n sio n a l o b j e c t s o f a r o u s a l , and p e r c e iv in g them as
re p re se n ta tiv e s of ourselves, p a r tic ip a tin g with them in laudable
e f f o r t s . This i s to be a b le to see women l i k e E lin o r as norm al
instead of as "other,” to respond to what Betty Freidan c a lls "the
personhood o f women." A usten's c r e a t i o n o f E lin o r i s o r i g i n a l
because she does n o t narrow h er i n t o a s c h e m a tic type. The
o b j e c t i o n I have to th e c r i t i c i s m I am a rg u in g a g a i n s t i s t h a t i t
i n s i s t s on t h a t s o r t o f n a rro w n ess in s p i t e o f Austen, c ru s h in g
E lin o r i n to a narrow r o l e as c o n s e rv a tiv e r e p r e s e n t a t i v e of
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"sense,” and ignores how much more in te re s tin g Austen’s vision of
Elinor a c tu a lly is.
In Sense and S e n s ib ility , the problem of focus and calmness is
one o f t r y i n g to cope, o f E l i n o r 's t r y i n g to a c t in a w orld o f
emergencies to accomplish what she thinks necessary. The question
i s how to t r a n s l a t e i n t e r n a l d e s ir e s i n t o e x t e r n a l a c t i o n , g iv en
the d i f f i c u l t i e s o f a c t i n g under p r e s s u r e . E lin o r fa c e s two
d i f f e r e n t problem s. One i s th e a t t i t u d e t h a t sh e , f o r one re a so n
or a n o th e r, i s b e lie v e d to have no n eed s, so o th e r s r e f u s e to
l i s t e n to her. John and Fanny Dashwood rep resen t one form of t h i s
i n d i f f e r e n c e , M arianne and Mrs. Dashwood a n o th e r. All rem ain
o b liv io u s to E l i n o r 's n eed s, though th e more s e r i o u s o b tu se n e ss
belongs to E lin o r's s i s t e r and mother.
The o t h e r , and m ajo r, problem i s , how can we go ab o u t a c t i n g
in t h i s w orld? For women, the la c k o f e x t e r n a l w h e re w ith a l,
in h eritan c e, property, and money is compounded by au d ito rs, who i f
not h o s tile , are complacent about women's needs, as Elinor's fam ily
i s to h e r s . Austen shows us t h a t what makes t h i n g s worse i s t h a t
women are o fte n no t ta u g h t a way o f bein g heard through a l l t h a t
in d iffe re n c e , and worst of a l l , are sometimes divided not only from
o th e r s b u t from our v ery s e lv e s . Not only i s th e c u l t u r e d e a f to
women's needs, but women are taught to be fragmented from them too.
That i s the beau ty o f A usten's e x p lo r a tio n o f psychology in t h i s
book. She shows us many o f th e ways t h a t p e o p le , p a r t i c u l a r l y
women, a d a p t f o r coping w ith , i f no t an i n d i f f e r e n t w o rld , one
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which i s s lu g g is h to meet t h e i r needs. The f i r s t i s to a llo w
a g ita tio n to take over. Marianne Dashwood succumbs to h y s te ric s ,
th en n e a r ly p in e s away in d is a p p o in tm e n t. Fanny Dashwood a l s o
confronts a shock with h y s te ric s , and a violence th a t turns outward
instead of inward as Marianne's does.
Another response is to be calm without feelin g anything; th is
i s Lady M id d leto n 's method, a lth o u g h she does c a re ab o u t h e r
children and reputation as a party -g iv er. But the most in te re s tin g
response is C harlotte Palmer's d isju n ctio n from her own feelin g s.
Her nervous l a u g h t e r , even about th e ru d en ess o f h e r husband, and
th e d e a th o f h e r p o u ltr y and f a v o r i t e p l a n t s (303) shows how
divided she is from her own serious concerns. Not u n t i l her child
i s in danger from Marianne's fever does she stop laughing, and then
her fear is noticeable in i t s excess. (307-8) Only Elinor is able
to work ou t a way o f coping t h a t keeps t r y i n g , w ith o u t e i t h e r
fra g m e n tin g away from h e r hopes, as C h a r lo tte Palm er does, or
giving up and abandoning h e rs e lf to despair as Marianne and Fanny
Dashwood do. Even when Elinor despairs over having what she wants,
she keeps trying to salvage her l i f e .
Elinor's strength is th a t she conceals her feelin g s, defending
h e r own r i g h t to p riv a c y . Fanny P r ic e , to o , w i l l have to c o n c e a l
things to p ro te ct h e rs e lf, as indeed, in more minor ways, w ill a l l
A usten's o th e r p r o t a g o n i s t s . Fem inism , i f i t p ro m ise s us any
i n t e g r i t y o f s e l f , does no t mean t h a t we must g iv e o u r s e lv e s
f r e e l y . I t need no t mean t o t a l e x p la n a tio n o f our f e e l i n g s to
246
everyone around us. I f i t d id , we would have tim e fo r n o th in g
e l s e . A usten ’s concern fo r women demands no such s i m p l i s t i c
c o n fo rm ity . I n s te a d she shows how i n t e g r i t y may a ls o be had by
being tr u e to what we need, and l e a r n i n g to a c t capably in the
o u ts id e w orld to a c co m p lish i t . C u l t i v a t i n g a h e a lth y s e l f or
c o n s c io u sn e s s does n o t mean t h a t everyone e l s e has the r i g h t to
trample on or even know everything we are feeling. Feminism means,
among other things, an in te g r ity which preserves the s e lf from the
c e a s e l e s s in v a s io n to which women’s c o n s c io u s n e s s e s have been
subject in th is culture. Women have the rig h t to learn the means
not to be manipulated in to t e llin g everything about ourselves. How
E lin o r o s c i l l a t e s betw een a c t i n g out h e r f e e l i n g s and calm ly
concealing them is what Sense and S e n s ib ility e x p lic itly takes as
i t s s u b j e c t , and i s a b r i l l i a n t in v e n tio n . E lin o r som etim es
e x p r e s s e s h e r r e a c t i o n s and som etim es c o n c e a ls them , but h er
l o y a l t y to h e r own n eed s, to e i t h e r showing o r h id in g what she
f e e l s , sa v e s h e r from f a l l i n g i n t o Lucy S t e e l e ’s m a n ip u la tio n s .
She is able to take care of h e rse lf.
Most readers have not noticed th a t concealment is not E linor's
only stra te g y for taking care of her needs. She also favors p lain
and open avowal as a very d i r e c t way o f p r o t e c t i n g h e r c o n c e rn s,
and o f f in d in g ou t th e s t a t e o f what she d e a ls w ith . What Sense
and S e n s ib ility can teach us is th a t our feelin g s are our own. I t
i s f o r us to d e c id e when to s h a re them , and when to c o n c e a l them.
W e are not obligated to give ourselves away. Women lik e Marianne,
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who believe such giving is a duty, advocate th a t a woman must be a t
a l l tim e s a v a i l a b l e to everyone e l s e in the w o rld , t h a t she owes
other people a l l the dimensions of what she survives. This is age-
old patriarchy. What fem in ist psychologists suggest today is th at
i t i s b e tte r for a woman to preserve h e rs e lf fo r h e rs e lf before she
f u l f i l l s e n d le s s o b l i g a t i o n s to o th e r s . Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y
te a c h e s t h i s , and i t shows how, i f we a r e to have sympathy l e f t
over from o u r s e lv e s to sp a re fo r f e l l o w - f e e l i n g , we need to care
fo r o u r s e lv e s a s E lin o r does. That c a re e n a b le s h e r to c are f o r
Marianne, and her mother, and Mrs. Jennings, and Colonel Brandon,
Mrs. P alm er, even h e r h a l f - b r o t h e r John Dashwood, and f i n a l l y ,
Edward Ferrars.
There a re two n e g a tiv e ways of a woman’s b e tr a y in g h e r s e l f .
There a re th e women who say what th ey do n o t mean, Lucy and Anne
Steele. There are women who say what they r e a lly think to people
th ey do no t t r u s t who could use i t a g a i n s t them. But people who
say what they think to everyone, as Marianne does, (and as ta c tle s s
John Dashwood o f te n d o es,) d e s tro y th e meaning o f r e a l in tim a c y .
In tim a c y has an e m o tio n a l p u l l because no t everyone i s a b le to
understand. W e wish for a world where we are able to be intim ate
w ith everyone because everyone i s s y m p a th e tic and b r ig h t . But
u n t i l t h a t happens we must d ecid e whom to t r u s t and whom to be
c a r e f u l around. B e sid e s, th in g s a re too c o m p lic a te d to be s a id
q u ic k ly . That i s why E lin o r i s " c a u tio u s o f g iv in g h er r e a l
o p in io n o f Edward’s m other" to Lucy S te e le . (128) To someone
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Elinor fe e ls close to, she could reply th a t she thinks she probably
would no t l i k e Mrs. F e r r a r s , t h a t what she has h eard about her
im plies th a t Mrs. F errars i s not a wonderful person. Elinor would
be a b le to say such th in g s because a t r u s t e d l i s t e n e r would know
th a t her opinion is subject to change, whereas a s tra n g e r—even one
g o o d -h e a rte d and w e ll-m e a n in g — could no t gu ess t h a t . But Lucy,
whom E lin o r has re a so n to d i s t r u s t because o f h er i n s i n c e r i t y ,
could not safely be granted her re a l opinion.
E lin o r i s no t a h y p o c r ite ; she does no t t e l l l i e s to be
a g r e e a b le , a s Henry Crawford and W illiam E l l i o t do, or Lucy and
Anne S te e le . E lin o r com m unicates h e r f e e l i n g s , bu t she does i t
humorously, by understanding them. For instance, she does not say
"I h a te th e s e M iddleton c h i l d r e n ," but i n s t e a d comments t h a t "I
c o n fe ss . . . t h a t w h ile I am a t B arton P ark , I n ev er th in k o f tame
and q u i e t c h i l d r e n w ith any a b h o rre n c e ." (123) Her speaking th e
tru th to the Steeles brings them up s h o rt—they do not know what to
say. They are "fragmented" because they have been feigning th e ir
fondness f o r th e M iddleton y o u n g s te rs . They a re n o t sp eak in g in
u n iso n w ith t h e i r a c t u a l f e e l i n g s . But E lin o r i s tr u e to h e r
f e e l i n g s ; h e r "w ith any a b h o rren ce " i s funny, a humor M arianne’s
e a r n e s t n e s s eschew s. E lin o r makes h e r rem ark in th e form o f a
confession, responding to Lucy's s e ttin g h e rs e lf up as the p erfect
lover of children. Elinor refuses to play th a t game and says th a t
she does no t p re te n d to be th e p e r f e c t c h i l d - a d o r e r , "I c o n fe ss."
She i s a b le to be f a i t h f u l to h e r f e e l i n g s even though th ey f a i l
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th e t e s t s o th e r people s e t up as th e norm by which to judge h er.
How many o f us can do t h i s , can see o u ts id e th e s ta n d a rd s s e t fo r
women, lik e loving children a t a l l costs? Can we express ourselves
as w ell as Elinor without g e ttin g involved in rid ic u lo u s, energy-
sapping b a ttle s over nothing, as Marianne does, w ithout giving up
our sense of humor?
E lin o r i s open in a way o th e r c h a r a c t e r s are n o t. She i s
in flu e n c e d by h e r m o th er, i n s t e a d o f c l i n g i n g s tu b b o rn ly to her
own, a c tu a lly more c o rre c t opinion: "Elinor was then a t lib e r t y to
th in k over th e r e p r e s e n t a t i o n s o f h e r m other, to acknow ledge th e
p ro b a b ility of many, and hope for the ju s tic e of a ll." (82) This
i s a way o f p r o t e c t i n g M arianne, n o t a n y th in g t h a t t e l l s us o f
Elinor's pessimism. She is ju s t worried about her s i s t e r because
she i s open enough to know th a t there i s something p ecu liar about
Mr. W illoughby's a c t i o n s . Fanny P r ic e , Jane F a i r f a x , and E lin o r
Dashwood have s i m i l a r p ro b le m s; each has re a so n s she cannot
d i s c l o s e about why she makes c e r t a i n d e c i s io n s , but o th e r
ch aracters do not make allowances for them, do not suspend judgment
about them as Elinor does for John Willoughby. In th is , the Family
Heritage pro tag o n ists are united; lo y alty to other women, to Lucy
S teele, and to Maria and J u lia Bertram, is what makes both Elinor
and Fanny unable to explain the reasons for th e i r actions.
In c o n trast to E linor's combination of reserve and openness,
Marianne Dashwood and John Willoughby represent a kind of re la tio n
to experience th at became popular in th is country a few years ago,
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a d ic ta demanding t o t a l honesty a t a l l tim es, sim plifying l i f e to
doing only what you wanted to do, and t e l l i n g o th e r p eople o f f
o f te n . Morgan has shown how M arian n e’s approach i s sim p ly n o t
complicated enough to help her through the problems her experience
p o ses. In E lin o r Dashwood, Austen o f f e r s us a more complex
psychology, and a so lu tio n to the problems we encounter with ju st
try in g to g et through our liv e s and p ro te c t what we care for. With
Elinor, we can p a rtic ip a te in a way of coping which n e ith e r over
s im p lif ie s our endeavors, nor lo cates a l l power in the hands of the
in d iv id u al.
The p o l i t i c s of Austen's novels shows us th a t many of women's
problems, and o f people's a lto g e th e r, are caused by the cu ltu re in
which we s tr u g g l e . But she does n o t abandon us to im p o te n t or
despairing anger. Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y shows us s t r a t e g i e s f o r
coping with our d i f f i c u l t i e s . For a l l the charm of credence in the
efficacy of t o t a l honesty and doing exactly what we want, we must
recognize th a t ad u lts face s itu a tio n s where we have to do what we
do not lik e for the sake of accomplishing what we do want. Always,
we must weigh th e o b je c t a g a i n s t i t s demands to f ig u r e out
approximately how much we are w illin g to do. But in the meantime
th e r e lu r k s th e is s u e of how w e ll we can perfo rm t h a t th in g we
d i s l i k e , d re a d , or a re p ained by, how we can g e t th ro u g h i t w ith
the le a s t damage to ourselves.
Austen recognizes, most p a r tic u la rly in Mansfield Park, th a t
women are often train ed to s a c rif ic e a l l to oth ers' needs. On the
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o th e r s id e , our a c h ie v e m e n ts a re n o t re c o g n iz e d , and we a r e n o t
g iv en c r e d i t fo r s t r e n g t h , bu t typed as cap ab le only o f the
" h y s t e r i c s " w h i c h l i m i t M arianne and Fanny Dashwood. Sense and
S e n s i b i l i t y shows us what e l s e s t r e n g t h can be than a man's
carrying a wounded woman down a h i l l and in to a cottage, what else
a woman's s t r e n g t h can be than to become the in ju r e d o b j e c t who
must be re sc u e d . Austen i s o f f e r i n g us a new v e r s io n o f what
coping can be, s tr a te g ie s which can include both women and men.
There are many s itu a tio n s where we cannot say a l l we fe e l. I f
sim p le s e l f - e x p r e s s i o n were the i s s u e , i t m ight be b e t t e r fo r
Elinor to say, "But, Edward, I love you," in the manner of Marianne
to Mr. Willoughby. But re le a se of feelin g s is not the only goal of
self-ex p ressio n . The other object is fo r i t to enhance our liv e s,
to make them b e tte r , to p ro te c t our fu tu res, to save us as much as
possible from being overpowered or overwhelmed. This may seem too
s im p le a t r u t h to r e q u i r e d i s c u s s io n , bu t th e f a c t i s t h a t most
readers have assumed a d e s ir a b i l i t y about Marianne's d e b ilita tiv e
su fferin g which im plies th a t the best thing a person can do during
c r i s e s i s to g iv e in and g iv e up. But t h a t i s n o t what we b e lie v e
about men, so i t must be what the cu ltu re thinks is a ttr a c tiv e in,
p r e t t y i n , women. What Austen o f f e r s in E lin o r Dashwood i s a
visionary creation of what a woman's stren g th , a woman's being able
to cope can look l i k e , and more i m p o r t a n t l y , how i t f e e l s .
Fem inists have long argued th a t one of women's problems is th a t we
a re alw ays c u t o f f from our h e r i t a g e in a p a t r i a r c h y ; because
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women's h is to r ie s are not to ld , each generation must invent anew a
r e b e l l i o n a g a i n s t o p p re ss io n . The p o in t I want to make i s t h a t I
b e lie v e t h a t by tu r n in g to some o f our h e r i t a g e , some a u th o r s in
the p a s t , we can re c o v e r some o f t h a t work. A usten's books, w ith
th e i r analyses of what women struggle with and what we can do for
ourselves, can help us choose our complicated courses in our not-
d i s s i m i l a r c u l t u r e . This i s a h e r i t a g e we need, and Sense and
S e n s i b i l i t y o f f e r s a c r u c i a l moment in t h a t h e r i t a g e . What is
s t i l l new ab o u t Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y i s t h a t i t s fem ale
p r o t a g o n i s t i s s tr o n g ; t h a t i s so re m a rk a b le t h a t most r e a d e rs
have s t i l l , d e s p i t e th e l a s t tw en ty y e a rs o f fe m in ism , n o t been
able to admire E linor's strength.
Austen is not advocating a S chlaffly m entality which fe a rs men
as d an g ero u s, seek in g s a f e t y in r i g i d g e n d er r o l e s and d i s t r u s t .
A usten's n o v e ls show the a t t r a c t i v e n e s s o f f r i e n d l y r e l a t i o n s o f
eq u ality for women with men, in place of some overpowering emotion
which w i l l tak e over one's l i f e , to which the woman abandons
h e rs e lf, to be protected by the hero forevermore. I t i s because of
th a t ideology th a t Marianne is so devastated by John Willoughby's
betray al. She had never expected to have to fend fo r h e r s e lf as a
s in g l e person a g a in . But o f c o u rse th e fla w in h e r scheme o f
t h i n g s , in th e t r a d i t i o n a l model she f o ll o w s , i s t h a t Mr.
Willoughby never did take care of her.
John W illoughby alw ay s did abandon M arianne to h e r own
s u f f e r i n g , h e r d o u b ts, h e r w ondering ab o u t w h eth er he r e a l l y did
i 253
love h e r. At B arton, she was f e v e r i s h l y happy when th ey were
together, but such feverishness is not se lf-n u rtu rin g . Hers was a
p o s i t i o n o f i n s e c u r i t y , an i n a b i l i t y to depend on h e r l o v e r 's
a f f e c t i o n , an a f f e c t i o n which, a f t e r a l l , tu r n s o u t no t to be
dep endable. I t i s n o t a sk in g too much to demand t h a t when we
devote our a ffe c tio n to someone e lse , we be comfortably, securely,
sure th a t th i s person cares about us also. Austen shows th a t i t is
not th a t Marianne is in n ately more insecure or dependent than John
Willoughby. She ju s t f u l f i l l s h is needs, p a r tic u la rly h is need to
know t h a t she c a r e s ab o u t him , b e t t e r than he does h e rs . She
becomes obsessed w ith him while he nearly fo rg ets about her a f t e r
he leaves Barton, because of the lop-sided pattern of whose needs
are f u l f i l l e d in standard heterosexual re la tio n s . This novel gives
women a defense through a power th a t few others have granted us, a
ju s t i f i c a t i o n of our demanding to be nurtured and cared for as we
have been train ed to tend to others. I t shows how s e lf-d e s tru c tiv e
for women i s the old model of r e la tio n s to men.
Austen's novels do not condemn us to unending " b a ttle s o f the
g e n d e rs." That belo n g s to th e p r e v a i l i n g c u l t u r e . She does no t
t r e a t war between women and men as an absolute as a n ti-fe m in is ts
do. Her books p i c t u r e how women a re as e n t i t l e d as men to openly
depend on t h e i r r e l a t i o n s o f lo v e , a power th e c u l t u r e g r a n t s to
men. They show th a t women should be allowed to make ru le s j u s t as
men do about the conditions under which we w ill devote our care and
a t t e n t i o n to a n o th e r p e rso n . Male a n t i - f e m i n i s t s want women to
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remain the emotional servants of men's needs; female a n ti-fe m in is ts
see women as outw ard s e r v i t o r s who c o v e r t l y m a n ip u la te men in to
f u l f i l l i n g our needs. Austen i s p u t t i n g t h a t te n s io n a s id e . She
e n v is io n s love and r e l a t i o n s betw een the g e n d e rs as a t i e of
f r i e n d l y e q u a l i t y , o f i n d i v i d u a l l y , no t c u l t u r a l l y c o n s tr u c te d
r u l e s , r a t h e r than freedom f o r men and s u b s e rv ie n c e fo r women.
I n s te a d o f hid d en maneuvers f o r power by women, she f a v o rs an
o u tsp o k en , f r i e n d l y working o u t o f what i s a l l r i g h t betw een two
p a r t i c u l a r p eo p le. That i s th e tr u e way to f in d " s o lid c o m fo rt,"
and f i n a l l y th e way f o r r e a d e r s engaged w ith th e f a t e o f th e two
s i s t e r s in Sense and S e n s ib ility from the opening of the novel, to
"conceive how c o m fo rta b le th e y w i l l be." (12) I t i s the kind of
c o m fo rt a v a i l a b l e a t l a s t to Fanny P r ic e and Edmund Bertram in
Mansfield Park.
Fanny's c o m fo rt w i l l d evelop from a use o f h e r b o u n d a rie s, a
s e p a r a t i o n b e tw e e n h e r s e l f and o t h e r s , s i m i l a r t o E l i n o r
Dashwood's. Y ea z e ll t r e a t s th e is s u e o f b o u n d a rie s in M an sfield
Park as an aspect of i t s conservatism , of "the novel's own impulses
to so rt and d i s c a r d . " ^ Yeazell argues th a t
This em phasis on sp ace, and th e b o u n d a rie s o f sp ace, i s
f in a lly what we mean when we think of Mansfield Park as
'p r i m i t i v e '. . . . no o th e r novel o f Jane A usten's c a l l s
such a t t e n t i o n to i t s b o u n d a rie s. . . . The o p p o r tu n ity
o f p r e s e n tin g a c h i l d 's developm ent . . . i t v ig o ro u s ly
c o n v e rts i n to an o p p o r tu n ity f o r r e v u l s i o n and draw ing
d i s t i n c t i o n s .
Yeazell la b e ls as "an archaic s tr a in in i t s thinking" the way th at
"M a n sfie ld Park c o n c e n t r a t e s . . . on p la c e and guarded fem ale
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c o n s c i o u s n e s s . ”20 Such a v ie w , h o w e v e r, o v e r l o o k s how
psychologists are now id en tify in g women’s deprivation of adequate
psychological boundaries as a fem in ist issue. Psychoanalysts Luise
Eichenbaum and S u sie Orbach have shown how our c u l t u r e te a c h e s
women to accept d e stru c tiv e ly permeable boundaries because of the
inadequate nurturing women receive.2^ The a b i l i t y to experience a
s e p a r a te s e l f becomes as im p o rta n t as th e a b i l i t y to c o n n e c t,
because only through such d e fin itio n can women, or men, achieve a
sen se o f s e c u r i t y and s e l f - r e l i a n c e , t h a t sen se o f p la c e which
women in th is cu lture are so often denied.
Morgan has shown how w o n d erfu l i s Fanny's openness to h e r
e x p e rie n c e . I want to su g g e st t h a t p a r t o f what a llo w s Fanny to
ac h ie v e t h a t openness i s how she l e a r n s to keep th o s e b o u n d a rie s
which Yeazell disparages. I t i s not Fanny who uses her boundaries
f o r " r e v u l s i o n and d r a w in g d i s t i n c t i o n s , ” o r t o " s o r t and
d i s c a r d . ”22 That i s th e mode o f M arianne Dashwood and John
W illoughby. Fanny u se s h e r sen se o f h e r own d i s t i n c t n e s s from
other people both to p ro te c t h e rs e lf and to b e tte r sympathize with
o t h e r s . A usten’s p i c t u r e o f F a n n y 's c h i l d h o o d c o m p r i s e s a
r e v i s i o n a r y look a t what many women s u f f e r grow ing up: a lm o st
ceaseless invasion by other people who teach boys to sep arate, but
g i r l s to a c c e p t p s y c h o l o g i c a l v i o l a t i o n . M rs. N o r r i s ,
p a r tic u la rly , but the other Bertrams as w ell, c o n siste n tly trample
what should be Fanny's decisions, in truding on her with continual
demands. More in v a s iv e y e t a r e th e a c c u s a tio n s w ith which Mrs.
2 5 6
Norris often "scolds" Fanny. This p ro tagonist grows up accepting
how she w ill liv e a t everyone e lse 's serv ice, a t the mercy of th e ir
p i c t u r e s o f h e r. But when she needs to , Fanny w i l l be a b le to
r e p e ll Mr. Crawford's a tta c k s "upon her peace," (295) in a way th a t
o th ers, lik e Maria and Ju lia Bertram, are not.
Austen, however, as with her vision of Elinor Dashwood, does
not show only the i l l e f fe c ts of the p a tria rc h a l system on women's
p s y c h o lo g ic a l dev elo p m en t, though t h a t alo n e would be enough to
make Mansfield Park a fem in ist novel. She also shows how women may
s u rv iv e in s p i t e o f an anti-w om en c u l t u r e . She p i c t u r e s how a
woman, victim ized by continual invasion of her boundaries, may yet
claim for h e rs e lf a separate s e l f and l i f e , whose needs demand her
own l o y a l t y over anyone e l s e 's c la im s . This i s what Fanny does
th ro u g h o u t h e r r e f u s a l to a c t in the t h e a t r i c a l s , as w e ll as h e r
r e f u s a l to m arry Henry C raw ford. We need to re c o g n iz e what a
strength Fanny shows. Because of her lo y alty to Maria and J u lia ,
Fanny cannot e x p la in to S i r Thomas why she th in k s i l l o f Mr.
Craw ford. But th e p o in t i s t h a t h e r u n c le has no r i g h t to h e a r
such reasons anyway. Her decision alone should be enough. As much
fo r Fanny Price as for Elinor Dashwood, does Austen defend women's
r i g h t to make p r i v a t e d e c i s io n s ab o u t how to a c t and in whom to
c o n f i d e . We need to a c k n o w le d g e t h a t "a g u a r d e d f e m a le
c o n s c io u sn e s s" i s s t r e n g t h , a s t r e n g t h which e n a b le s Fanny to
develop her openness to other ch aracters, th a t a b i l i t y to nurture
h e r s i s t e r Susan, Lady B ertram , S i r Thomas, and W illia m , to c a re
257
ab o u t Mrs. N o r r i s ’s s i t u a t i o n a t th e White House, M a ria 's and
J u lia 's with Henry Crawford, and to love Edmund so generously.
Readers have m istakenly i n t e r p r e t e d Fanny's b e h a v io r d u rin g
c ris e s as child ish n ess; Fleishman says "she acts (and admits th a t
she w r i t e s ) l i k e a c h i l d , a n d Kenneth L. Moler c a l l s Fanny's
pii
sp eech es th e r e "m asterp ieces of sc h o o lg irlish in a rtic u la te n e ss."
But Fanny's conduct i s n o t c h i l d i s h . I n s te a d she shows th e
d i f f i c u l t y women o f te n e x p e rie n c e in t r y i n g to j u s t i f y our
d e c i s io n s and a c t i o n s in a h o s t i l e p a t r i a r c h y which e x p e c ts
o b ed ien ce from women, n o t a s e p a r a te s e lfh o o d . The is s u e i s how
women can make o u r s e lv e s h eard in a w orld which c u s to m a r ily
o v e rru n s women's b o u n d a rie s. M an sfield Park shows through i t s
pro tagonist th a t the answer becomes one of le t t i n g go of the hope
t h a t o th e r s w i l l u n d e rsta n d . We must do what we need, and t r u s t
th a t in time others w i l l understand as S ir Thomas learn s to do. In
the meantime, though Fanny mourns how o b stin ate and ungrateful she
seems to S ir Thomas, she knows th a t she cannot do other than refuse
Mr. Crawford. Fanny's strong sense of h e rs e lf, which women today
struggle to develop, also makes her a v ailab le to change, as people
who abandon themselves to o th ers' whims, as Marianne Dashwood does,
cannot be. I f Henry Crawford had been s te a d fa s t, Fanny would have
learned to love him—not for S ir Thomas's reasons, but for her own.
The love Fanny s h a re s w ith Edmund i s w ith th e p erso n who,
th ro u g h o u t h e r c h ild h o o d r e s p e c te d Fanny's s e p a r a t e n e s s , who
, 258
defended h e r need to be h e a rd , who f i n a l l y "was only too good to
ev ery body." (M25)
Recent r e a d e r s have p o rtra y e d Fanny's v a l i d s e l f - d e f e n s e as
som ething a g g r e s s iv e , sneaky, o r both. F leishm an c a l l s Fanny "a
weak woman with se lf-d efen siv e and self-aggrandizing im p u lse s ," ^
w h ile G i l b e r t and Gubar argue t h a t Fanny "only succeeds th ro u g h
passive re sis ta n c e , . . . through sile n c e , reserve, re c a lc itra n c e ,
and even cunning." To them , "Fanny i s f a r l e s s l i k e a b l e th an
A usten's o th e r h e r o in e s . . . . in p a r t because one s e n se s some
pride in Fanny's s e l f - a b a s e m e n t . " 2 ^ The flaw in these readings is
t h a t th ey do n o t a llo w as Austen does f o r th e t e n t a t i v e n e s s of a
woman's f i r s t e f f o r t s to p r o t e c t h e r s e l f . They d e s c r ib e Fanny's
behavior in terms of extremes; in such dualisms she becomes e ith e r
p e r v e r s e l y s u b m i s s i v e o r o f f e n s i v e l y s e l f i s h . T h e s e
in te rp r e ta tio n s miss how Austen portrays th is woman's responses to
h e r e x p e rie n c e as n a t u r a l , a s good e f f o r t s to s u rv iv e . Fanny's
f e e l i n g s o f u n e n t i t l e m e n t a re no t p e r v e r s e ; th e y a re the u s u a l
re sp o n s e s o f women in a c i v i l i z a t i o n which does n o t n u r tu r e
confidence in females. Fanny's self-d efen se is n e ith e r h o s tile nor
s u b v e r s i v e — i t i s what f le d g in g a t t e m p t s a t d efen d in g one's own
in t e g r i t y fe e l and look lik e.
The F a m ily H e r i t a g e n o v e l s , S en se and S e n s i b i l i t y and
M a n sfie ld Park, a re th e two o f A usten's books which most f u l l y
dram atize the r is k s to women in the p a tria rc h a l c u ltu re : sex with
a man o u ts id e m a rria g e which r e s u l t s in e i t h e r pregnancy or
259
d i v o r c e . T h e re i s n o t h i n g men can do s e x u a l l y , a t l e a s t
h e t e r o s e x u a l l y , t h a t w i l l so t h r e a t e n them or so o s t r a c i z e them.
Both John Willoughby and Henry Crawford are to le ra b ly w ell able to
c o n tin u e t h e i r l i v e s even though th ey cannot m arry th e woman of
t h e i r c h o ic e ; Mr. W illoughby becomes r i c h and Mr. Crawford
c o n tin u e s so. "In t h i s w orld th e punishm ent i s l e s s eq u al than
could be wished," (468) and Austen shows th a t the u ltim a te answer
i s to change th e c u l t u r e . But t h a t i s som ething which even today
happens only very s lo w ly . In th e m eantime women have to g e t
through our liv e s. W e must try to survive in a so ciety which gives
a l l the ris k s to women because i t sees women as the answer to the
dreams and fa n ta sie s of men instead of as people in our own rig h t.
While a l l th e r i s k s a re women's, women a re ta u g h t to abandon
o u r s e lv e s to men as M arianne Dashwood, e m o tio n a lly , and E liz a
W illiams, physically, do fo r John Willoughby, or to accept having
t h e i r boundaries v io lated by the amorous atta c k s of Henry Crawford,
as Maria and J u lia Bertram do.
With Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y and Mansfield Park, Austen shows
t h a t women a r e e n t i t l e d to p r o t e c t o u r s e lv e s a s E lin o r Dashwood
d o es, and as Fanny P r ic e u l t i m a t e l y does as w e ll. These two
le a d in g c h a r a c t e r s a r e a b le to c o n tin u e t h e i r openness to th o se
p eo p le to whom th ey w ish to o f f e r in tim a c y , but can a ls o p r o t e c t
themselves from the a tta c k s of le ss w orthy-characters. These are
new pow ers Austen c la im s f o r women, and we need to heed th e s e
claim s, made so long ago and speaking strongly to us now.
260
Notes
* 1
Among many, see David Monaghan, Jane Austen: S tructure and
S o o ia i V isio n (London; M acm illan, 1980), pp. 143-62, p a s sim ., and
A l is ta ir M . Duckworth, The Improvement o f the E state; A Study of
Jane A usten's Novels (B a ltim o re : Johns Hopkins P r e s s , 1971), pp.
180-208, passim.
P
^Monaghan, p. 15.
^Duckworth, p. 208.
^M arily n B u t l e r , R om antics, R eb els, and R eactionaries:
English L ite ra tu re and i t s Background 1760-1830 (Oxford: Oxford
U niversity Press, 1982), p. 108.
5I b id ., p. 105.
6I b id ., p. 109.
^Ibid., p. 99, Monaghan, pp. 2-7, and Duckworth, pp. 25-31.
®I have borrowed th i s term from Terry Eagleton's comment th a t
" i f Richardson may once again become readable, i t w ill be in large ,,,
m easure because o f th e women's movement," The Rape o f C l a r i s s a
(Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1982), p. v i i i .
^Frank Kermode, The Sense o f an Ending: Studies in the
Theory o f F i c t i o n (1967; r e p r i n t ed., London: Oxford U n iv e r s ity
Press, 1981); Barbara H errnstein S m ith, P o e tic C lo su re : A Study
of How Poems End (Chicago: U niversity of Chicago Press, 1968).
I ft
'^Catharine R. Stimpson, "Gertrude Stein and Her Post-Modern
Reputation," a paper delivered a t a symposium e n title d Considering
Gertrude S tein: the Importance o f Her Writing and Her Influence on
L i t e r a t u r e and Art ( U n iv e rs ity o f C a l i f o r n i a a t Los A ngeles,
November 10, 1984).
II
Or, in Kermode's rep rese n ta tio n of a "plot" as "tick -to ck ,"
"tick" could lead to many th in g s, and i t s meaning i s sp ecified once
we read the "took" which l e t s us understand what kind of process we
are experiencing, Sense, pp. 44-45.
12C. S. Lew is, "On S t o r i e s , " Of O ther W orlds: Essays and
S t o r i e s , ed. W alter Hooper (London: G eo ffrey B les, 1966), pp. 17-
18, quoted in Paul K. Alkon, Defoe and F ic tio n a l Time, (Athens, Ga:
The U niversity of Georgia Press, 1979), p. 120.
261
^ A lk o n , p. 108.
1 li
'S u s a n Morgan, In the Meantime; Character and Perception in
Jane Austen's F ictio n (Chicago: U niversity of Chicago Press, 1980),
p. 67.
^ M a r i a n n a T o rg o v n ic k , C lo su re in th e Novel ( P rin c e to n :
Princeton University Press, 1981).
1 f\
S t u a r t M. Tave, Some Words o f Jane Austen (Chicago:
U niversity of Chicago Press, 1973), pp. 74-115, passim, and Morgan,
pp. 109-31> p assim . I am in d e b te d to both th e s e f in e s t u d i e s
throughout my d iscu ssio n o f Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y and M a n sfie ld
Park.
17
Jane McDonnell, "’A L i t t l e S p ir it of Independence': Sexual
P o litic s and the Bildungsroman in Mansfield Park," Novel: A Forum
on F ictio n 17 (Spring 1984): 208.
18
1 See, for example, Nina Auerbach, "Jane Austen and Romantic
Imprisonment," Jane Austen in a Social Context, ed. David Monaghan
(Totowa, N.J.: Barnes and Noble, 1981), pp. 9-27; Mary Poovey,
"Ideological C ontradictions and the Consolations of Form: The Case
of Jane Austen," The Proper Lady and the Woman W riter: Ideology as
Style in the Works of Mary W o llsto n ecraft, Mary Shelley, and Jane
Austen (Chicago: U n iv e r s ity o f Chicago P r e s s , 1984), pp. 183-85;
Sandra G ilb ert and Susan Gubar, The Madwoman in the A ttic: the
Woman W riter and the Nineteenth-Century L iterary Imagination (New
Haven, Conn.: Yale U n iv e r s ity P r e s s , 1979)* pp. 156-57; M arvin
Mudrick, Jane Austen: Irony as Defense and Discovery (1952;
r e p r in t ed., Berkeley: U niversity of C alifo rn ia Press, 1968).
1^Ruth Bernard Y e a z e ll, "The B oundaries o f M a n sfie ld P a r k ,"
Representations 7 (Summer 1984): 136.
20I b id ., p. 147.
21
Luise Eichenbaum and Susie Orbach, Understanding Women:___A
F e m in is t P s y c h o lo g ic a l Approach (New York: B asic Books, In c.,
1983), pp. 16-17, 20-21, 164-66. We may be a b le to see Lady
Bertram in th e d i s c u s s io n o f how a g o rap h o b ic p eo p le use "the
boundaries of home" as " su b stitu te s for psychological boundaries,"
p. 164.
22Y eazell, pp. 147, 136.
2^Avrom Fleishman, A Reading o f "Mansfield Park": An Essay in
C r itic a l Synthesis (M inneapolis, Minn.: U n iv e r s ity o f M innesota
P ress, 1967), p. 45.
262
2^Kenneth L. M oler, "The Two Voices o f Fanny P r i c e , ” Jane
Austen; Bicentenary Essays, ed. John Halperin (New York; Cambridge
U niversity Press, 1975), p. 176.
^Fleishm an t p . 54.
^ G i l b e r t and Gubar, pp. 165-66.
263
Chapter 5
The Leading Characters and Sisterhood
in
Horthanger Abbey and ramna
Women are never the enemy.
—G loria Steinem
A ll o f A usten’s n o v e ls a re concerned w ith th e s u b j e c t o f
sisterhood among women and the Family Heritage novels present i t as
a c e n t r a l is s u e . But th e y fo cu s on how th e p r o t a g o n i s t s , E lin o r
Dashwood and Fanny P rice, s u ffe r from a lack of sisterhood in the
o th e r c h a r a c t e r s . These p r o t a g o n i s t s th e m se lv e s a re a b le to
sy m p ath ize w ith o t h e r p e o p le , w ith both women and w ith men.
S is te rh o o d becomes w hat we want lo v e r s to f e e l f o r us to o , a
f r i e n d l y f e e l i n g w ith none o f the h o s t i l i t y o f p o s s e s s io n in i t .
But in th e p a i r o f n o v e ls I have c a l l e d th e S is te rh o o d n o v e ls , a
feelin g of kinship among women becomes the primary focus, in the
sen se t h a t th e p r o t a g o n i s t s a re c h a r a c t e r s who must l e a r n to
i d e n t i f y w ith o th e r women.- L earning how to be f r i e n d s w ith
264
fellow -w om en i n s t e a d o f f e e l i n g th e h o s t i l i t y which th e m a le -
centered cu ltu re se ts up among women is the issue a t the center of
these p l o t s .
Morgan has d is c u s s e d some o f th e ways "we a re help ed in
u n d e rs ta n d in g N orthanger Abbey by re a d in g i t , a t l e a s t in p a r t ,
th ro u g h Emma.1 ^ I want to extend h e r a n a l y s i s by tu r n in g to th e
r e la tio n s between women in these novels. In these two works Austen
exam ines what happens to women who ig n o re t h e i r t i e s to o th e r
women, o r a re l e s s open to them th a n th e y a re to o t h e r c a r e s .
Catherine Morland and Emma Woodhouse m istakenly believe th a t there
i s nothing wrong w ith the p o sitio n of women in th i s cu ltu re . Both
ch aracters are aware th a t bad things happen to other women, but i t
n ev er seems r e a l to them u n t i l th e c l i m a c t i c moments o f t h e i r
s to r i e s .
B oth n o v e l s c o n c e r n women who do n o t s e e t h e i r more
i n t e r e s t i n g t i e s to o th e r women b ecause th ey a re too busy w ith
t h e i r own hobbyhorses. When C a th e rin e Morland th in k s o f Mrs.
T iln e y la n g u is h in g in a dungeon, she i s n o t being i n t e n t i o n a l l y
cruel. She never imagines Eleanor's mother as a re a l person—only
as an i n h a b i t a n t o f an abbey. C a th e rin e i s c a l l o u s ab o u t E lea n o r
T i l n e y 's f e e l i n g s b e c a u s e she i s so o b s e s s e d w i t h th e
g r a t i f i c a t i o n s o f h e r im a g in in g s , o f f e e l i n g h e r s e l f to be in a
more in te re s tin g time and place than her own usual l i f e . I t is not
u n t i l C a th e rin e has l e f t N o rth an g er Abbey t h a t she re p ro a c h e s
h e r s e lf for her i n s e n s itiv ity to Eleanor and her su fferin g s. Emma
2 6 5
Woodhouse i s n o t only i n s e n s i t i v e to Jane F a i r f a x , bu t a c t i v e l y
h o s t i l e . Once a g a in , we see A usten's i n t e r e s t in d i s t i n g u i s h i n g
between how we can pay a tte n tio n to what i s tru ly in te re s tin g th a t
i s going on o u ts id e o u r s e l v e s , and in v o lv e s o th e r people who are
separate from ourselves, and th a t s e l f - g r a t i f i c a t i o n which may make
use o f o th e r peo p le b u t does n o t v a lu e them as s e p a r a t e , s e e in g
them instead only as to o ls for a s e lf i s h pleasure.
The Sisterhood novels also share s tru c tu re s in which a woman,
who s u p e r f i c i a l l y t h i n k s she i s happy and t h a t e v e r y th in g i s a l l
r ig h t with the cu lture and women's p o sitio n in i t , repeatedly veers
from p la n to d is a p p o in tm e n t. That i s because both le a d in g
characters are mistaken about what w ill be in te re s tin g to do. In
Bath, Catherine Morland*s disappointm ents a r is e from the Thorpes'
in te rfe re n c e , but the section is a cheerful one where hopes may be
d is a p p o in te d but a re q u ic k ly succeeded by f u l f i l l m e n t and th e
dazzling p o s s i b i l i t i e s of new hopes and plans. The Bath scenes are
h a r m le s s ly e n t e r t a i n i n g f o r th e r e a d e r because C a th e r in e 's a re
goals with which the n a rra to r sympathizes. But once a t Northanger
Abbey, th e s t r u c t u r e becomes l i k e t h a t o f Emma; th e le a d in g
c h aracters both make unworthy plans, and the n a rra tiv e follow s them
r e p e a t e d l y from m isguided schem ing to d is a p p o in tm e n t, through
r e p e n ta n c e , and back to renewed m a c h in a tio n s. These books are
hap p y p a r t l y b e c a u s e t h e p r o t a g o n i s t s do n o t r e a l i z e th e
s e r i o u s n e s s o f t h e i r e x p e r ie n c e , o f th e s i t u a t i o n s in which th ey
are involved. But what i s wonderful about both books, i s th a t when
2 6 6
th e c h a r a c t e r s le a r n to ta k e t h e i r l i v e s s e r i o u s l y and to c a re
about other women, the novels remain happy.
I have three c e n tra l things to say about Emma which r e s t upon
i t s connections to Northanger Abbey. The f i r s t is th a t i t too has
a s i d e l i n e c h a r a c t e r who i s ig n o re d in im p o rta n t ways by th e
leading character. With Emma's r e la tio n to Jane F airfax, I think
Austen again transform s the importance of women in and outside of
n o v e ls as f r i e n d s , showing how w orthy o f im a g in a tio n and tim e
s is t e r h o o d i s . She c r e a t e s c o n v e n tio n s by which we can im agine
about, long fo r, and recognize friendships with other women. This
i s to say t h a t she in v e n ts new c o n v e n tio n s but n o t fo rm u la s ,
p re sc rip tio n s, or recipes. The feminism of these novels speaks to
us in th e way t h a t th ey change both our id e a s o f love and
frien d sh ip so as to remove the th re a t of com petition from re la tio n s
among women.
My second p o in t i s t h a t Austen v i s u a l i z e s a ro m a n tic love
which does n o t fo llo w a fo rm u la f o r g e t t i n g t o g e t h e r and,
p a r tic u la rly , is not victim ized by com petition, by the a ttr a c tio n
of other people. In Emma Miss Campbell m arries Mr. Dixon because
o f " t h a t chance, t h a t lu ck which so o f te n d e f i e s a n t i c i p a t i o n in
m atrim onial a f f a i r s , giving a tt r a c t io n to what i s moderate ra th e r
th an to what i s s u p e r i o r , engaged th e a f f e c t i o n s o f Mr. Dixon . . .
alm ost as soon as they were acquainted. (165) Miss Campbell f a l l s
in love w ith Mr. Dixon though he i s no t as handsome a s , say Frank
C h u r c h ill. I t a l l comes back to th e way t h a t in A usten's n o v e ls ,
267
love i s n o t so much a d e c is io n to be made— e x c e p t i n s o f a r a s a l l
p e r c e p tio n i s d e c i s i o n — b u t a f e e l i n g o f co n cern which grows up
among a l l one's other feelin g s. And friendship i s as im portant and
as i n t e r e s t i n g as o th e r form s o f lo v e. C a th e rin e Morland th in k s
she becomes frien d s w ith Eleanor Tilney for the sake of being near
Henry. Emma shuns Jane F airfax so th a t no one w ill outshine her in
George Knightley's im agination. But Catherine learn s to love, to
a d o re , E lea n o r f o r h e r own sa k e , and to be g r a t e f u l f o r th e ways
Eleanor wants her to become her s i s t e r . Emma learn s th a t she never
had to worry about Jane. Jane's nature a t t r a c t s her to a d iff e r e n t
so rt of man; Frank C h urchill’s "d elig h tfu l s p i r i t s , " "gaiety," and
" p la y f u ln e s s o f d i s p o s i t i o n , " a re "bewitching" to her. (419) Mr.
K n ig h tle y 's c h a r a c t e r means t h a t a d i f f e r e n t s o r t o f woman th an
Jane F airfax is dear to him as w ell.
But i t i s n o t j u s t t a s t e which draw s th e d i f f e r e n t s e t s o f
lovers to each other. I t is th a t they worry about each other, th a t
somehow the beloveds' w elfare has become alm ost unbearably dear to
each. This co n cern i s why both S is te rh o o d n o v e ls end w ith a
leading man’s journey to make sure the p ro ta g o n ists they love are
a l l r i g h t . Austen shows us t h a t lo v e r s may som etim es be as
concerned about women as Emma is about Mrs. Weston and learn s to be
about Jane, and as Catherine and Eleanor are about each other. She
shows t h a t women should n o t s e t t l e fo r l e s s . Henry T iln e y and
George Knightley tra v e l as rap id ly as they can to see i f Catherine
got home safely , and to comfort Emma i f she is su ffe rin g from the
268
news o f Frank C h u r c h i l l 's engagem ent. Both men a ls o avow t h e i r
love as soon as th ey g e t th e r e . A usten's a re v i s i o n s o f how
frie n d ly , and how concerned, love between women and men can be.
In c o n t r a s t to th e h i s t o r i c a l b e g in n in g g iv en Fanny P r ic e ,
e v e r u n w i l l i n g to be n o t i c e d , and E lin o r Dashwood, whose p a in i s
s im ila r ly ignored, the beginnings of Northanger Abbey and Emma seem
to s t a r t w ith th e p r o t a g o n i s t s th e m s e lv e s . But, a c t u a l l y , th ey
o nly in c lu d e g e n e r a l i z a t i o n s about each woman, and e x p l i c i t
r e f e r e n c e s to th e t r a d i t i o n a l c o n v e n tio n s o f h e r o in e s and our
e x p e c t a t i o n s f o r them. In th e famous anti-opening to Northanger
Abbey, th e n a r r a t o r announces t h a t , "No one who had e v er seen
Catherine Morland in her infancy, would have supposed her born to
be a h e ro in e ." (13) C a th e rin e i s "re m a rk a b le " and e lu d e s our
"suppos"itions and "expect"ations because she is very ordinary and
y e t i s th e s u b j e c t o f a n o v e l, where u s u a ll y only paradigm s s t a r .
But Catherine and her family are unusual only in novels.
Northanger Abbey takes up e x p lic itly the f ic tio n a l s tru c tu re s ,
in novels and in c u ltu re , which so often control r e la tio n s between
ordinary women and men. One question I want to bring to the novel
i s w hether r e a d e r s ought to be concerned ab o u t th e b arb s Henry
Tilney to sses a t Catherine, Eleanor, and women in general, during
t h e i r walk around Beechen C l i f f . One o f A usten's c o n tin u in g
i n t e r e s t s i s th e d i f f e r e n c e betw een what c h a r a c t e r s say ab o u t
th e m se lv e s and what s o r t s o f p eo p le th ey a c t u a l l y a r e . Put more
p re c ise ly , t h i s i s an in t e r e s t in how the a d je c tiv e s which are most
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c o v e te d , a r e a v a i l a b l e to everyone. The S is te rh o o d books a re
p a r t i c u l a r l y concerned w ith t h i s because o f t h e i r focus on
f i c t i o n s . I f Henry had defended women in a s e r i o u s to n e h e r e , we
would not have proof of what he thinks about women. W e have only
to remember how many characters in t h i s novel and in Emma profess
ex actly the opposite q u a litie s and opinions from those they re a lly
hold. General Tilney brags about h is in d ifferen ce to the q u a lity
o f food, of b reak fast china, and to money except as i t co n trib u tes
to h i s c h i l d r e n ' s h a p p i n e s s , b u t a l l t h r e e t u r n o u t t o be
o b s e s s io n s . I s a b e l l a Thorpe mouths p l a t i t u d e s a b o u t alw ay s
standing up fo r other women, but a c tu a lly cares nothing about other
women. Augusta Elton also p ra ise s her own lo y alty to other women
w h ile r e a l l y t h in k in g on ly o f h e r s e l f . I s a b e l l a only u ses
Catherine to get nearer James Morland, while Mrs. Elton encourages
her spouse to both snub Mrs. Weston and to i n s u lt H arriet Smith on
the dance floor. These are not ch aracters who defend women.
What m a t t e r s ab o u t Henry T iln e y i s t h a t he i s v ery good to
E le a n o r, t r y i n g to make b e t t e r the t e r r i b l e h a r d s h ip o f h e r l i f e
w ith t h e i r f a t h e r . What a ls o m a t t e r s i s t h a t he i s l e a r n i n g to
love Catherine, and is using t h e i r repartee to show o ff before her.
W e can also know th a t i f Henry i s making fun of women during t h e i r
w alk, he would do as much f o r men, f o r i t i s he who has s e r i o u s l y
sa id ,
"I should no more la y i t down as a g e n e r a l r u l e t h a t
women w rite b e tte r l e t t e r s than men, than th a t they draw
b e tte r landscapes. In every power, o f which t a s te is the
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foundation, excellence i s p re tty f a i r l y divided between
th e sex es." (28)
What kind o f e x p e c ta tio n does Austen show t h a t we have o f
novels? Catherine’s problems and m is ta k e s th ro u g h o u t N orthanger
Abbey stem from h e r love o f t h in g s and h e r o ic o b j e c t s , which
resembles General Tilney’s obsession with things and money. Both
ch aracters ignore what is im portant in other people because they
think other people are obvious, e a s ily understood. But Catherine
i s open to change because she i s v u ln e r a b le to wonder, w h ile the
General never is . The beginning i n i t i a t e s Catherine’s im aginative
movement. We are made to see t h a t h e r o ic a t t r i b u t e s a re mere
th i n g s to be p o rte d around, because th e y do n o t change. We a re
asked to wonder about them, and the Catherine Morland which e x ists
beyond them. Heroism req u ires a r e la tio n to ch aracter of emulation
ra th e r than questioning im agination.
W e find th a t when we define people ag ain st heroic standards,
we discover l i t t l e about them. Catherine h e r s e lf ,
had a th in awkward fig u re, a sallow skin without colour,
dark lan k h a i r , and s tr o n g f e a t u r e s ; — so much f o r h er
person;—and not le ss unpropitious for heroism seemed her
mind. She was fond o f a l l b o y s’ p la y s , and g r e a t l y
p r e f e r r e d c r i c k e t no t m erely to d o l l s , bu t to the more
heroic enjoyments of infancy, nursing a dormouse, feeding
a canary-bird, or watering a rose-bush. ( 13)
R ep e ated ly we a re t o l d t h a t C a th e rin e i s " e x t r a o r d i n a r y ," "a
s t r a n g e , u n a c c o u n t a b l e c h a r a c t e r , " s h o w in g "sy m p to m s o f
p r o f l i g a c y , " because she i s "not re m a rk a b le ." Austen i s w orking
o u t a new r e l a t i o n to c h a r a c t e r in which envy i s no t our a b id in g
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emotion, nor im possible standards for women our norm. Catherine is
strange and unaccountable because, although she is not h e ro ic a lly
v i r t u o u s , sh e i s n o t a v i l l a i n . She p o r t r a y s t h e n o r m a l
development of the women we might know.
The language o f lo v e has become a fo rm u la and th e n a r r a t o r 's
d e sc rip tio n of Catherine’s i n i t i a l iso la tio n from any love in te r e s t
points th a t out:
she had no lover to pourtray. She had reached the age of
se v e n te e n , w ith o u t having seen one a m ia b le youth who
could c a ll fo rth her s e n s ib ility ; w ithout having inspired
one r e a l p a s s io n , and w ith o u t having e x c i t e d even any
adm iration but what was very moderate and very tra n s ie n t.
T h is was s t r a n g e i n d e e d ! But s t r a n g e t h i n g s may
g e n e r a l l y be a cco u n ted f o r i f t h e i r cause be f a i r l y
searched out. (16)
This i s th e second tim e t h a t " s tra n g e " and some form o f "account"
have been p a ire d in th e b e g in n in g . The opening i n tr o d u c e s us to
how C a th e rin e w i l l spend h e r novel t r y i n g to a c c o u n t f o r s tr a n g e
events and try in g to see outside of s ta le conventions. C ertainly,
the d escrip tio n of an amiable youth c a llin g fo rth s e n s ib ility , is a
very p a le a c c o u n t o f C a th e r in e 's a d v e n tu re s w ith Henry T iln e y .
T ellin g ly , the characters absorbed in things and conventions devoid
o f f e e l i n g , change, or s u b t l e t y in c lu d e I s a b e l l a Thorpe, h e r
b r o th e r John, and G en eral T iln e y . A ll th r e e a re greed y and
scheming. As Catherine moves from a fixed heroism to an evolving
p a r t i c i p a t i o n as h e r own s e l f , she tra n s f o rm s h e r co n cern s from
sh ap es to e m o tio n s, t h i n g s to p e o p le , c l i c h e d a s su m p tio n s to
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w o n d e r in g i m a g i n a t i o n , a n d , b e s t , fro m s e l f i s h n e s s to an
a ffe c tio n a te i n t e r e s t in Eleanor Tilney.
The other novel which begins o ste n sib ly w ith i t s protagonist
i s a ls o the o th e r one which ends w ith th e " p e r f e c t h a p p in e ss" o f
th e le a d in g c h a r a c t e r ’s m a rria g e . I t i s s i g n i f i c a n t t h a t Emma
W oodhouse and C a t h e r i n e M o rla n d a r e A u s t e n 's m o st j o y f u l
p ro ta g o n ists: Emma has a "happy d isp o sitio n " while Catherine has a
" c h e e r f u l d i s p o s i t i o n . " I t i s tr u e t h a t E liz a b e th Bennet is
liv e ly , but she i s le s s happy than the other two ch aracters because
she w o r r i e s a b o u t J a n e B e n n e t's p a i n , and i s c o n t i n u a l l y
e m b a rra sse d by h e r f a m il y 's i m p r o p r i e t i e s . N e ith e r Emma nor
C a th e rin e i s pain ed in t h a t way; th e y s u f f e r from t h e i r own
m is ta k e s o n ly . They a r e a ls o th e two main c h a r a c t e r s who most
markedly see other people as extensions of themselves—Catherine,
in try in g to understand them, and Emma, in planning t h e i r futures.
Emma, though, s e ts th is issue up without the d istancing metaphor of
heroines. The opening to Emma involves more than our expectations
f o r our p r o t a g o n i s t . What we are to c a re ab o u t i s the more
complicated process o f Emma's hopes for h e r s e lf and her own power.
Where in N o rthanger Abbey we t r a v e l e d from a s u p e r f i c i a l
d is s a tis f a c tio n w ith Catherine's id e a l disadvantages to an excited
in t e r e s t in her p ecu liar im aginative l i f e , w ith Emma we move from
surface p erfe c tio n to "disadvantages," "which th re aten a llo y to her
many en jo y m en ts." (5) W ithout being an a n t i - h e r o i n e , as Wayne
Booth and others p e r s i s t in seeing her, Emma r is k s "best blessings"
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in th e "u n p erceiv ed " "danger" o f having h e r own way and th in k in g
too w e ll o f h e r s e l f . I t i s no t a " s tro k e o f good f o r t u n e " 2 which
makes Emma th e p r o t a g o n i s t i n s t e a d o f Jane F a i r f a x , f o r Emma
c o n t r iv e d ly r e v e r s e s th e s i t u a t i o n dramatized in Mansfield Park,
where a lonely powerless woman observes a liv e ly one f l i r t w ith the
man she loves. In any case, Austen w ill retu rn to a f u l l e r version
o f Jane F a i r f a x ’s e le g a n c e and e x c e lle n c e in Anne E l l i o t , whose
s i t u a t i o n i s more i n t e r e s t i n g th an J a n e ’s b ecause she i s d iv id e d
from Captain Wentworth, not by a s e c re t engagement, a Lucy Steele
c h i c h e , b u t by h e r own d e c i s i o n and C a p t a i n W e n tw o r th ’s
m isin te rp re ta tio n of i t .
With Emma, as w ith C a th e r in e , Austen i s i n t e r e s t e d in
transform ing our id e a ls of ch aracter and what in them i s worthy of
our imagination. What Northanger Abbey subverts through e x p lic it
discussion of heroism, the notion of p e rfe c t characters whose id eal
ends l i e in p e rfe c t matches, Emma conclusively undermines through
an image o f m atchm aking. The r e v e r e n t i a l h a p p in e s s we f e e l a t
Henry T iln e y 's a f f e c t i o n f o r C a th e rin e makes N o rth an g er Abbey
moving, and becomes th e s t a t e d s u b je c t o f Emma, in th e c o n t i n u a l
discovery of love between outwardly unconnectable ch aracters. The
shoddiness of matchmaking l i e s in the assumption th a t we can judge
f o r o th e r p e o p le , t h a t t h e r e a re such th in g s as p e r f e c t m atch es,
th a t we can p re d ic t fo r others through the "talen t" which Emma sees
in her "lucky guess." (13) Matchmaking reduces the p o s s i b i l i t ie s
o f s u r p r i s e t h a t e x p e rie n c e o f f e r s . That i s why th e novel
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progresses from Emma’s s e lf-c o n g ra tu la tio n on unitin g the Westons,
which is undercut by a l l Mr. Weston’s own years of c a re fu l earning
and p la n n in g f o r t h e i r m a r ria g e , th en t r a v e l s th ro u g h Emma's
m is ta k e s about th e a f f e c t i o n s o f bo th H a r r i e t Sm ith and Jane
F airfax, to culminate in her p e rfe c t happiness w ith Mr. Knightley,
though every other ch aracter debates whether she or he is the most
”in luck.” (468) They both are, but not for the reasons th a t Lady
B e r tr a m was lu c k y . I n s t e a d , tw o p e o p l e s i n g u l a r l y , n o t
u n i v e r s a l l y , s u it e d to one a n o th e r by y e a rs o f a f f e c t i o n a t e
a tte n tio n , have found th a t out.
Austen a ls o has H a r r i e t f a l l in love w ith George K n ig h tle y ,
and we m ista k e th e n o v el i f we assum e t h a t she does i t because he
i s th e b e s t ’’h e r o .” I t i s p r e c i s e l y because Emma lo v e s him t h a t
H arriet does; Emma has been fo is tin g her unconscious sense of Mr.
Knightley's p erfectio n on H a rrie t, so the younger woman n a tu ra lly
a d o p ts him as h e r s ta n d a rd o f p e r f e c t i o n , to o . H a r r i e t has
a c c e p te d Emma's p a s s io n s as a b s o lu te s ta n d a r d s , so i t i s not
s u rp risin g th a t she absorbs the stro n g e st one of a l l . Here, as for
C a th e rin e M orland, th e sw a llo w in g whole o f u l t i m a t e i d e a l s is
dang ero u s. We can see t h i s in th e w a s t e f u l snobbery w ith which
H arriet la te in the novel denigrates Robert Martin, "I hope I know
b e tte r now, than to care for Mr. M artin, or to be suspected of i t . ”
(41) R obert M artin has c a re d f o r H a r r i e t in a t e n d e r l y p e rs o n a l
way, b u t she disow ns h e r c o n n e c tio n to him q u i t e h e a r t l e s s l y
because she has f a l s e l y been ta u g h t t h a t he i s unw orthy. The
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problem with seeing according to fixed id e a ls or s e t terms is how
they encourage us to smear over the personal and re a l. Matchmaking
assum es t h a t t h e r e a re c e r t a i n t i e s and t r u t h s a b o u t o th e r p eople
which we can best see from the outside. But th a t kind of distance
a c t u a l l y e n a b le s us only to g u ess. D e f i n i t e l y we a re s a f e r
tampering with p eople’s dinners than with th e ir a ffe c tio n s .
Emma's idea of love i s as cliched, and follow s the customary
models as clo se ly , as Catherine’s idea of adventure. Emma thinks
heterosexual love i s discovered by women when a man rescues them
from d an g er; to Emma, i t seems n a t u r a l t h a t Jane F a i r f a x and Mr.
Dixon should be in love because he saved her from f a llin g in to the
water. Frank Churchill saves H arriet Smith from the gypsies, and
to Emma th a t means love. Emma and her nephews are the people who
keep imagining about th is story:
The whole h isto ry dwindled soon into a m atter of l i t t l e
i m p o r t a n c e b u t t o Emma and h e r n e p h e w s : — i n h e r
im agination i t maintained i t s ground, and Henry and John
were s t i l l tenaciously s e ttin g her rig h t i f she varied in
th e s l i g h t e s t p a r t i c u l a r from th e o r i g i n a l r e c i t a l .
(336)
What c h i l d r e n want i s many r e p e t i t i o n s o f a s e t p a t t e r n . A dults
should want something new, something beyond tre a tin g th e i r liv e s as
i f th ey can pu t in th e a p p r o p r i a t e c a s s e t t e and p la y them re a d y
made .
H arriet has been an apt pupil in a q u ite d e stru c tiv e way. She
takes in Emma's sense th a t love i s a m atter of good ta s te , as Emma
puts i f , o f looking fo r "very good specimens of w ell educated, well
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bred men.” (32) But she does n o t te a c h h e r to judge f o r h e r s e l f .
W e know from Mr. Knightley's respect for Mr. Martin, and H arriet's
d e s c r i p t i o n s o f him , t h a t he has much b e t t e r m anners th an Mr.
Elton. But because Emma teaches th a t th a t cannot be tru e , H arriet
l e a r n s to c a l l e v e r y th in g by th e wrong names. When H a r r i e t
u ltim a te ly chooses Mr. Knightley i t is because she has thoroughly
''in te rn a liz e d ” Emma's own ta s te s , instead of discovering her own.
Her re a so n s f o r lo v in g Mr. K n ig h tle y r a t h e r th an o t h e r s a re j u s t
p lain s i l l y ,
Mr. Frank C h u r c h i l l , indeed! I do no t know who would
e v er look a t him in th e company o f th e o th e r . I hope I
have a b e tte r ta s te than to think of Mr. Frank Churchill,
who is lik e nobody by h is sid e , (405)
and
Mr. M artin ! No in d e e d !— . . . I hope I know b e t t e r now,
th an to c a re fo r Mr. M a rtin , or to be s u sp e c te d o f i t .
(410-411)
These a re w o n d erfu l l i n e s because th ey show th e f o l l y , and more,
the sheer callousness o f f a llin g in love for reasons of ta s te .
H a r r i e t sounds a lm o st l i k e Henry Crawford in h is p re e n in g
greediness. The wonderful tru th i s th a t Jane F airfax i s a person
o f v ery good t a s t e , and she c e r t a i n l y lo v e s to look a t Frank
C hurchill, and th inks, probably, th a t Mr. Knightley "is lik e nobody
by h is s i d e . ” As f o r Mr. M a rtin , a l l i t w i l l ta k e f o r H a r r i e t to
r e - d i s c o v e r how much he has alw ay s meant to h e r , w i l l be v iew in g
how the K n ig h tle y s in London v a lu e him. What Emma l e a r n s , and
p ro b a b ly H a r r i e t , i s t h a t sh e , Jan e, and H a r r i e t a l l have lo v e ly
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t a s t e — th e y a l l love w orthy p eo p le. But because th ey a re q u i t e
d iff e r e n t in themselves, i t takes a d if f e r e n t kind of worthiness to
make each of them happy.
Emma te a c h e s H a r r i e t so w rongly b ecause she i s h e r s e l f
thoroughly divided from her own dearest fee lin g s. Because she does
not know th a t she loves George Knightley, she fe e ls quite cynical
and distanced from the very topic of love. When her a ffe c tio n for
Mr. K n ig h tle y pushes i t s e l f on h e r , she can only e x p la in i t by
understanding i t as something everyone in the room must fe e l. When
she f e e l s a wave o f s e x u a l p a s s io n and lo n g s to dance w ith Mr.
Knightley, Emma g en eralizes th a t everyone must fe e l her adm iration,
"His t a l l , firm , u pright fig u re, among the bulky forms and stooping
shoulders of the e ld e rly men, was such as Emma f e l t must draw every
body's eyes." (326) That is why, when H a rrie t seems to be te l l i n g
her th a t she loves Frank Churchill, Emma r e p lie s th a t "however i t
may end, be a s s u re d t h a t your r a i s i n g your th o u g h ts to h im , i s a
mark o f good ta s te which I s h a ll always know how to value." (3^2)
By such l o g i c , Emma should be a b le to v a lu e H a r r i e t 's lo v in g Mr.
Knightley even more, but, she learn s in stead the rid icu lo u sn ess of
loving according to such h ie ra rc h ie s.
That i s why m atchm aking i s an e r r a t i c game. What a t t r a c t s
peo p le to each o th e r cannot be p r e d i c t e d . That in i t s e l f i s what
i s so funny and j o y f u l a b o u t Emma's being u n ite d w ith Mr.
Knightley, and the other c h aracters' rea c tio n s. Mrs. Weston
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had been e x tre m e ly s u r p r i s e d , n e v e r more so, th an when
Emma f i r s t opened th e a f f a i r to h e r; b u t . . . now i t
seemed as i f Emma could not sa fe ly have attached h e r s e lf
to any other c re a tu re , and th a t she had h e rse lf been the
s t u p i d e s t o f b ein g s i n n o t having th o u g h t o f i t , and
wished i t long ago. (467)
The n a rra to r amuses us with how
The news was u n iv e rsa lly a su rp rise wherever i t spread;
and Mr. Weston had h i s f iv e m in u tes s h a re o f i t ; . . .
b u t th e wonder o f i t was soon n o th in g ; and by th e end o f
an hour he was not fa r from believing th a t he had always
foreseen i t . (468)
The d ifferen ce between su rp rise and having predicted a l l along has
been c o m p le te ly c o n v o lu te d and l o s t . I th in k we must laugh and
r e j o i c e to h e a r t h a t "In g e n e r a l , i t was a v ery w e ll approved
match. Some might think him, and others might think her, the most
in luck.” (468) I t does not d e tra c t from, but emphasizes, the joy
o f how p e c u l i a r l y , n o t g e n e r a l l y , i d e a l l y - s u i t e d Emma and Mr.
Knightley a re .
As Austen had sta te d in her Ju v e n ilia , love and friendship are
c l o s e l y lin k e d . The n e g a tiv e v e r s io n o f t h a t l i n k , th e v e r s io n
th a t r e f l e c t s women's dependence on male opinion, is th a t a woman
t h i n k s she can only be loved i f c o m p e titio n i s e l i m i n a t e d . Emma
chooses H a r r i e t S m ith, who n ev er f a i l s to bore h e r , over Jane
F a i r f a x , who once she i s f re e d from je a lo u s y , becomes v ery
i n t e r e s t i n g to h e r. Miss C am pbell, on th e o th e r hand, i s a b le to
keep a "warm attachm ent” (164) to Jane in s p ite of "Jane's decided
s u p e r i o r i t y both in b e a u ty and a c q u ire m e n ts ." (165) Mr. Dixon's
p re fe rrin g to hear Jane's music to Miss Campbell's i s not what Emma
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c a l l s i t : "the im p ro p e r and dangerous d i s t i n c t i o n . " (202)
Neither is i t proof th a t Mr. Dixon has "more music than love—more
ear than eye—a more acute s e n s i b i l i t y to fine sounds than to [Miss
Campbell’s] feelings." Emma's view of love r e la tio n s excludes the
p o s s ib ility of "the p e r f e c tly good u n d e rs ta n d in g among them a l l "
(202) which Frank Churchill attem pts to describe before h is fear
o f ex p o sin g h i s s e c r e t s t i f l e s him. In Emma’s mind, a tta c h e d
p eo p le cannot be f r i e n d s w ith o th e r s w ith o u t en d a n g e rin g t h e i r
f a i t h — t r u s t can n o t be hoped f o r , b ecause s u s p i c i o n , j e a l o u s y ,
in se c u rity are everywhere making innocent, harmless enjoyments into
th e "im p ro p er and d a n g e ro u s," i n t o what w i l l t h r e a t e n l o v e r s ’
happiness. Emma's perspective on love shows us the pathos of such
i n s e c u r i t y , where a f f e c t i o n can n o t be r e l i e d on, where lo v e i s
forever victim ized by com petition, where love t i e s are tra n s ie n t,
because they are earned through ta le n t.
Because Emma confuses music and love, her idea of friendship
can n o t encom pass Frank C h u r c h i l l ’s d e fe n se o f Miss C am pbell's
acceptance of Mr. Dixon's preference for Jane’s music: " It was her
p a r tic u la r frien d , you know." Emma can only cy n ically d i s t o r t such
c o n f id in g f r i e n d s h i p i n t o a c o m p e titio n which t h r e a t e n s b u t th e
more often,
One would r a t h e r have a s t r a n g e r p r e f e r r e d th an one's
v ery p a r t i c u l a r f r i e n d — w ith a s t r a n g e r i t m ight n o t
recur again—but the misery of having a very p a r tic u la r
friend always a t hand, to do every thing b e tte r than one
does oneself!
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Love becomes c o n s ta n t s t r e s s , d e se rv e d only by being th e b e s t a t
everything. W e can see some of Emma’s h o s t i l i t y to H arriet in the
way she e x p e c ts th e younger woman to s u f f e r th ro u g h being so
c o n t i n u a l l y one-upped by Emma. For Emma, th e s e c u r i t y o f t r u s t
among women, a s w e ll as betw een women and t h e i r l o v e r s , i s
perverted into dualisms Emma does not re sp e c t, "sweetness or . . .
s t u p i d i t y . . .— q u ic k n e s s o f f r i e n d s h i p , o r d u ln e ss o f f e e l i n g ."
As opposed to such pleasant se c u rity as Jane's with the Campbells
and Dixons, Emma liv e s in anxiety.
Emma chooses as a companion H arriet Smith, in order to have a
f r i e n d who w i l l n o t u p s ta g e h e r in George K n ig h tle y 's e y e s , who
w ill not dislodge her from "being f i r s t w ith Mr. Knightley." (415)
Emma’s comeuppance comes not from Mr. Knightley, but from her own
fe a rs th a t in sp ite of her unconscious precautions, Mr. Knightley
may have f a l l e n in lo v e w ith h e r v ery i n f e r i o r f r i e n d . She
p i c t u r e s h i s d i s g r a c e , th e " s m ile s , th e s n e e r s , th e m e rrim e n t i t
would prom pt a t h i s ex p en se," (413) t h a t he w i l l have been
e n tra p p e d by sex. A usten's v i s i o n o f love and o f f r i e n d s h i p
r e l e a s e s women from p r o h i b i t i o n s on in tim a c y w ith i n t e r e s t i n g
women. There i s n o th in g to g e t in th e way o f s is te r h o o d because
love i s formed on d if f e r e n t grounds. Mary Crawford has nothing to
f e a r from th e "Miss Owens" o f whom she i s so j e a l o u s when Edmund
Bertram v i s i t s t h e i r brother. (288-289 MP) According to Austen's
v i s i o n o f s e c u re lo v e , H a r r i e t Sm ith would sim p ly know t h a t she
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loves Robert M artin, th a t she needs no b e tte r ta s te to love e ith e r
Mr. E lto n 's conventionality or even Mr. K nightley's v ir tu e s .
But s is t e r h o o d i s p o s s i b l e because women can know t h a t love
a r is e s for us alone, not for our beauty or ta le n ts . There is never
any q u e s tio n t h a t Jane Bennet would want Mr. Darcy b ecause he i s
handsomer than Mr. B in g le y , and r i c h e r ; or t h a t Mr. Darcy would
want Jane because she i s more b e a u t i f u l th a n E liz a b e th . That i s
why P rid e and P r e ju d ic e in c lu d e s a jo k e about th is very su b ject;
Elizabeth quips th a t she i s a fra id Jane w i l l be angry a t how much
she loves Mr. Darcy—more even than she loves Mr. Bingley. This is
th e good s id e ; th e bad i s Emma th in k in g t h a t she needs to a s s u r e
H arriet th a t she would love Mr. Elton i f H arriet did not. What is
r e v e a le d i s Emma's a n x ie ty t h a t H a r r i e t w i l l d is c o v e r t h a t Emma
th i n k s Mr. E lto n only good enough fo r H a r r i e t — u n i n t e r e s t i n g
personally to Emma, but good enough fo r H arriet.
Emma fancies th a t for H arriet to be convinced to love P h ilip
E lto n , she must be persu ad ed t h a t everyone e l s e w ants him , t h a t
Emma h e r s e lf would love him i f he were av ailab le. That is why we
need to u n d e rsta n d th e re a s o n s f o r H a r r i e t 's d e lu s io n t h a t she
lo v e s Mr. K n ig h tle y . She has le a rn e d to d e f in e Emma's p e r s o n a l
t a s t e s a s h e r own, a s u n i v e r s a l s ta n d a r d s o f good t a s t e in lo v e.
Because H arriet's love for Mr. Knightley is only a gesture mimicked
from Emma, she i s even s t u r d i l y b la s e in h e r a s s u ra n c e t h a t Mr.
Knightley loves her. H arriet is much le ss humbly g ra te fu l fo r Mr.
K n ig h tle y ’s a f f e c t i o n th an she had been b e f o r e , n o t f o r Mr.
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E l t o n 's , bu t f o r Mr. M a rtin 's a t t e n t i o n s . Emma im a g in e s f o r us a
love which does not take the man's love for granted, which re ta in s
th e e x c ite m e n t o f g r a t i t u d e , y e t a l s o s u f f u s e s th e c o m fo rt o f
r e l i a b i l i t y , f re e d from c o m p e titio n . H a r r i e t 's ch o ic e o f Mr.
Robert M a rtin t u r n s o u t to be good; he i s someone Mr. K n ig h tle y
r e a l l y r e s p e c t s . T h e refo re H a r r i e t has shown "good t a s t e . " But
she has done something more im portant, she has f a lle n in love with
a good, sexy p erso n who i s a ls o devoted to h e r. She has loved
someone for personal r a th e r than a c q u is itiv e reasons.
"Who needs com petition i f we can have sisterhood?" is one of
th e outcom es o f Emma's s e a rc h in g q u e s ti o n s , and th e r e i s s t i l l
a n o th e r i m p l i c a t i o n which does n o t disparage e r o tic heterosexual
r e l a t i o n s . I f we a re lo v in g in good ways, which r e a l l y means
l o v i n g a t a l l , t h e n we do n o t h av e a n y t h i n g to f e a r fro m
c o m p e titio n anyway. H a r r i e t Sm ith only has to f e a r c o m p e titio n
from Emma b ecause Mr. E lto n i s a v u lg a r f o r t u n e - h u n t e r . R obert
Martin only has anything to fe a r from Mr. Knightley, because Emma
t r i e s to tu r n H a r r i e t in t o th e same s o r t o f lo v e - h u n te r , a
s i t u a t i o n - h u n t e r . Jane F a i r f a x and Emma r e a l l y have n o th in g to
f e a r from each o th e r because th e y lo v e d i f f e r e n t ty p e s o f men;
Emma's fa n ta sie s about Frank Churchill are the immature daydreams
most young peo p le form ab o u t t h e i r c o u s in s ; as Emma t h i n k s , "He
seemed . . . q u i t e to belong to h e r." (119) This p r o p r i e t o r s h i p
re s e m b le s E liz a b e th E l l i o t ’s more s e r i o u s d e s ig n s on W illiam
E llio t. But E lizabeth's aims are more damaged; she wants to marry
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h e r c o u s in . Emma, though, alw ay s ends h e r e n t e r t a i n i n g c o n c e i t s
ab o u t Frank C h u r c h i l l 's lo v e f o r h e r w ith a b e a u tif u lly - w o r d e d
r e f u s a l.
Emma’s b e l i e f t h a t love comes from good t a s t e may p a r t l y
explain why she had taken up H arriet Smith in the f i r s t place. I f
she chooses someone as her dear friend who has no ta s te , i t may be
r e a s o n a b ly supposed t h a t no one l i k e Mr. K n ig h tle y w i l l love h e r.
That i s th e s t r i k i n g f a c t ab o u t th e end o f the novel when Emma
f e a r s t h a t Mr. K n ig h tle y may have come to lo v e H a r r i e t , "Could i t
b e ? — No; i t was im p o s s ib le . And y e t i t was f a r , v ery f a r , from
i m p o s s i b l e .— Was i t a new c ir c u m s ta n c e f o r a man o f f i r s t - r a t e
a b i l i t i e s to be c a p t i v a t e d by very i n f e r i o r pow ers?" (413) I f
lo v e i s sim p ly a m a t t e r o f t a s t e , th en one i s n ev er s a f e — anyone
can be a th re a t, can be com petition. But there is an even deeper
i s s u e h e re . The problem w ith Emma's do in g s i s t h a t i f i t i s
incongruous for Mr. Knightley to be captivated by H arriet, so i t is
also for Emma. Everything between them bespeaks in e q u a lity , from
H a rrie t’s sense of "the pleasure and honour of being in tim ate with"
Emma, (54) th ro u g h Emma's co n d escen d in g p la n s f o r H a r r i e t , h e r
in te n tio n s to "notice her; she would improve her; she would detach
her from bad society; she would form her opinions and her manners,"
(23-24) to th e i n e q u i t y in how th ey a d d re ss each o t h e r a s ,
r e s p e c t i v e l y , " H a r r ie t" and "Miss Woodhouse." E liz a b e th E l l i o t
w ill seek a s im ila r imbalance with Mrs. Clay; she w ill remain "Miss
E llio t," but w i l l designate her frien d as "Penelope."
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But Emma a t th e b e g in n in g o f h e r s to r y did no t want an
in te r e s tin g frie n d :
Such a f r ie n d as Mrs. Weston was o u t o f th e q u e s tio n .
Two such co u ld n e v e r be g r a n te d . Two such she did n o t
w a n t. I t was q u i t e a d i f f e r e n t s o r t o f t h i n g - - a
sentim ent d i s t i n c t and independent. Mrs. Weston was the
o b j e c t o f . . . g r a t i t u d e and e ste em . H a r r i e t would be
loved as one to whom she could be u s e fu l. (27)
What Emma is larg ely about is Emma’s discovery th a t "the d iff e r e n t
s o rt of thing," and nothing e lse , i s love. "Gratitude and esteem,"
t h a t c o n n e c tio n E liz a b e th Bennet f e l t f o r Mr. Darcy, i s a ls o the
b a s is o f lo v e among women. There i s a l i n k betw een th e way t h a t
Emma never loves Frank C hurchill, though she thinks she does, and
th e way t h a t Emma i s n e v e r r e a l l y a b le to c a re v ery much f o r
H arriet. I f she had, she would have been b e tte r able to sympathize
w ith H a r r i e t ’s s e v e r a l d is a p p o in tm e n ts . But Emma's re sp o n se i s
always to fe e l sorry, even g u ilty , about how H a rrie t w ill s u ffe r,
but alw ay s to w ish v ery much t h a t H a r r i e t w i l l s to p f e e l i n g bad
u n re a so n a b ly soon. Emma n ev er r e a l l y s y m p a th iz e s w ith H a r r i e t ,
though she t r i e s to. Because the younger woman seems s i l l y to her,
Emma is unable to care about H arriet the way she w orries about Anne
Weston, or th e way she l e a r n s to f e e l g la d a b o u t th e f r i e n d l y
fe e lin g s she exchanges with Jane Fairfax. Emma co n tin u ally fe e ls
superior to H arriet and quite scornful. That i s why she s tr a in s so
hard to e x e r t i n f lu e n c e on H a r r i e t . When we have f r i e n d s we
b e lie v e a r e w orthy and i n t e r e s t i n g , we a re s a t i s f i e d to be
in te re s te d in them, to sympathize with what they decide to do next.
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But Emma has no such r e s p e c t f o r H a r r i e t , and no r e a l i n t e r e s t ;
th erefo re she only wants H arriet to liv e according to the courses
which she, Emma, maps out.
The end of Emma does not show Emma abandoning .H arriet to the
lo w e r c l a s s e s , as so many r e a d e r s have assum ed. I n s t e a d , Emma
r e l a x e s h e r ty ra n n y over H a r r i e t while increasing her enthusiasm
f o r Jane F a ir f a x . Emma's f r i e n d s h i p w ith Jane i s d i f f e r e n t from
what she had e n v isio n e d f r i e n d s h i p to be: i t in c lu d e s a r e s p e c t
and a f f e c t i o n f o r any r e s e r v e , i n s t e a d o f d re d g in g out J a n e 's
confidence as her due. Yet t h e i r lik in g fo r each other also o ffe rs
a p l a y f u l s o r t o f a c c o s t i n g , a m i r t h f u l c a m a ra d e rie which only
shows Jane h e r a f f e c t i o n . The f i n a l s e c t i o n s o f th e n o v e l, I
think, show the reader how Emma has learned a sense o f everyone as
a s e p a r a te p e rso n , whose r e s e r v e s , b o u n d a rie s , a re good when
needed, and a l s o good when d is c a r d e d f o r in tim a c y . By th e same
token, Emma exchanges a smothering and overbearing closeness with
H a r r i e t , where she had o v e rru n e v e r y th in g in th e younger woman's
l i f e , f o r "a c alm er s o r t o f g o o d w ill." (482) She can c a re ab o u t
H a r r i e t w ith o u t fo rm in g h e r i n t o th e e n t e r t a i n m e n t o f h e r l i f e .
Her c a lm e r f e e l i n g f o r H a r r i e t , I t h i n k , i s a c t u a l l y more
a f f e c t i o n a t e th a n h e r fo rm e r s c o r n f u l e f f o r t s to mold H a r r i e t 's
d e stin y .
R ita Mae Brown, among o t h e r s , say s o f fem in ism t h a t i t
r e p r e s e n t s th e hope t h a t "a m ediocre woman w i l l be a s a b le to
become successful as mediocre men." As we have seen, Austen also
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claim s the r ig h t for women to be seen as g re a t, grand, and heroic,
b u t no l e s s im p o rta n t i s h e r b e l i e f t h a t a woman need no t be the
ep ito m e o f e v e r y th in g i n o rd e r to m e r it our a t t e n t i o n . H a r r i e t
Sm ith n ev er becomes f a s c i n a t i n g or i n t e l l i g e n t , w i l l n ev er be a
match f o r Emma, b u t w i l l d e s e rv e h e r own form s o f independence.
The opening o f N orth an g er Abbey, ta k e n l i t e r a l l y by so many
read ers, does not mean th a t Catherine Morland i s stupid. I t does
say th a t she is "occasionally stupid," as we a l l occasionally are.
A usten's p o r t r a y a l s can l i b e r a t e us from p a t t e r n s o f f e m i n i n i t y
which aim for p erfectio n , but the p erfectio n of f la tn e s s , not the
grandeur of sp ecial p e rso n a lity , which i s what Catherine possesses.
What is t e l l i n g about Northanger Abbey is th a t the n ecessity
fo r Austen's concern has been amply proven. Readers have d irected
a lm o s t no a t t e n t i o n to a very s p e c i a l c h a r a c t e r , E lea n o r T iln e y .
Drawn by th e s ta n d a rd i n d i c e s o f im p o rta n c e , Henry T iln e y 's
m a le n e s s, h is s t a t u s as C a th e r in e 's "h ero ," and what r e a d e r s have
p e r s is te n tly seen as a m e n t o r - r e l a t i o n to th e p r o t a g o n i s t , ^ th ey
have ignored Eleanor Tilney as the cu ltu re ty p ic a lly ignores women
in th e p re se n c e o f men. The p o in t i s t h a t E lea n o r i s a v ery
sp e c ia l, in te re s tin g c h aracter, whom c r i t i c s , lik e General Tilney,
o v e rlo o k . At l e a s t , th e G en eral ig n o re s h e r u n t i l he i s a b le to
h a i l her as "Your Ladyship!," loving her more then than "in a l l her
hours of companionship, u t i l i t y , and p a tie n t endurance." (251)
In t h i s c u l t u r e , a woman has to be a s u p e rp e rso n to be
n o tic e d , and even th e n does n o t draw th e a t t e n t i o n which h e r
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e q u i v a l e n t , i f m ale, would r e c e i v e . Even when a woman a c h ie v e s
so m eth in g a c c o rd in g to th e m ale model o f a c h ie v e m e n t, she i s n o t
seen a s th e same s o r t o f g i a n t , o r , f o r h e r a c c o m p lish m e n ts,
g r a n te d th e same s o r t o f renown. M arie C urie has n o t only been
stam ped w ith th e i n d i g n i t y o f "Madame," bu t has a l s o , u n t i l
re c e n tly , been seen as P ierre Curie's wife and widow. His minimal
c o n t r i b u t i o n to h e r work has been o v e re m p h a siz e d , w h ile women's
s u b s t a n t i a l s u p p o rt to s p o u se s ' p r o j e c t s i s seldom n o tic e d . In
s ta n d a rd l i n e s o f c r i t i c i s m , George Henry Lewes's i n f l u e n c e on
George E l i o t i s u n d e rsc o re d , w h ile R obert Browning i s s e t in t o
com petition w ith Elizabeth B a rre tt Browning, as i f th ere is a need
to compare them. His poetry is weighted, hers slig h te d . Current
i n t e r e s t re s u rre c ts the work of Geoffrey Bateson, but seems not to
be content with th a t —i t is as i f h is importance can only be fu lly
a p p r e c i a t e d a t th e expense o f h i s spouse M arg aret Mead: a s h i s
achievements grow, hers must lapse. Unfortunately, we s t i l l do not
have enough stu d ie s of the unconscious preference for men in th i s
c u ltu re , o f how often on, fo r in stan ce , te le v is io n newscasts where
c o u p le s a r e in t e r v i e w e d , th e cam era zooms in on th e fa c e o f th e
husband as i f he i s s t i l l th e r e p r e s e n t a t i v e o f them b o th . This
r o u t i n e l y happens even on s o - c a l l e d " l i b e r a l " shows l i k e S ix ty
M in u tes, where a r e c a l c i t r a n t Mike W allace s t i l l r e f e r s to a
married p a ir o f people as "man and wife."
I contend th a t readers have taken unconscious assumptions to
Austen's novels, s im ila r to those which prompt newspapers from the
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New York Times, to th e Los Angeles Tim es, to th e San F ra n c isc o
C h ro n ic le , to adum brate two i n d i v i d u a l peo p le as "John Jones and
h is wife Mary," to designate Jane Fonda as "Tom Hayden’s w ife," but
to say ab o u t Tom Hayden t h a t "h is w ife i s Jane Fonda." This
c u l t u r e has a s e r i o u s d i f f i c u l t y w ith s e e in g women as people
im p o rta n t in t h e i r own r i g h t , w h eth er th ey are b r i l l i a n t or
m ed io cre. Mrs. Bennet draw s f a r more h o s t i l i t y th an does Mr.
Bennet's g re a te r harmfulness; she is c e rta in ly more v i l l i f i e d than
George Wickham. Miss Bates’s prosiness a t t r a c t s more e p ith e ts than
Mr. Woodhouse's p a r a l l e l and l e s s i n t e r e s t i n g m onologues; Mr.
E llio t's s e lf-s e rv in g pride and hard-heartedness toward Mrs. Smith
draw s n o th in g l i k e th e condem nation o f Lady R u s s e ll's c o n t i n u a l ,
though m isg u id e d , co n cern f o r Anne E l l i o t . Mr. P a lm e r's and Mr.
Bennet's rudeness to other ch aracters is forgiven; but Austen’s own
d e l i g h t f u l humor in h e r l e t t e r s i s n o t. R ead ers' p r e j u d ic e s
r e f l e c t a c u l t u r e where women r o u t i n e l y r e c e iv e lo n g e r p r is o n
s e n te n c e s f o r k i l l i n g a b u s iv e sp o u ses th an do men who k i l l in
liq u o r-s to re hold-ups.^ Women are sentenced to longer terms than
men f o r th e same c r i m e s . ^ This i s one p r ic e o f th e u n r e a l i s t i c
expectations for women which the p a tria rch y promotes through i t s
i d e a l s o f fem ale p e r f e c t i o n . Anything l e s s i s e x c e s s iv e ly
punished.
What I am p ro te stin g is the pervasive use of good ad jectiv es
f o r men, but d u l l , h a l f - n e g a t i v e ones f o r women; p erh ap s s tro n g
c r itic is m s of men, but more invasive ones for women. The prejudice
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ag ain st women in our cu ltu re has prompted the widespread negative
c r itic is m of Austen, in which readers seldom mention even what they
see a s h e r s t r e n g t h s w ith o u t a n e g a tiv is m which shows th e
d i f f i c u l t y of taking women se rio u sly in a male-dominated society.
But th i s damage a lso harms the readings we have of Austen's novels,
and skews the in te rp r e ta tio n s we receive, fo r they over-emphasize
the p ro ta g o n ists' r e la tio n s to men, s lu rrin g over the importance of
o th e r women c h a r a c t e r s . The le a d in g c h a r a c t e r s may fin d t h e i r
happy endings with men, but much of th a t happiness w i l l come from
g e ttin g to know new women frien d s b e tte r. I have already dw elt on
how Austen’s a t t i t u d e to h e r p r o t a g o n i s t s has been m isu n d e rsto o d
because she tr e a t s them lik e whole people, admirable humans, whose
s t r i v i n g s may i n s p i r e a l l , men as w e ll as women. She does t h i s
ra th e r than tre a tin g her main characters as beings more lim ite d ,
b e in g s who r e p r e s e n t a s i n g l e , p o l a r iz e d a s p e c t o f h u m an ity ,
in stead of everything we can think of as human. I am arguing th a t
p a r t o f A usten's f e m i n i s t hope, p a r t o f what makes h e r n o v e ls
s p e c i a l , i s t h a t she d o e s n o t g i v e us o n ly a n g e r , b u t
tra nsform ations in how we see things as well.
Many readers have seen Northanger Abbey as nothing more than
parody. But I th in k t h a t view o v e rlo o k s what a t r u l y t h r i l l i n g
book i t i s . C a th e rin e h a s, o v er and o v e r, r e a l problem s to worry
about, but again and again, things tu rn out as she wishes, because
she c a r e s f o r i n t e r e s t i n g p eo p le and she tu r n s ou t to be d e a r to
them as w ell. Northanger Abbey i s b u i l t around a s e rie s of hopes
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which fe e l im possible, but are f u l f i l l e d anyway, because Catherine,
in t h a t way t h a t we a l l would l i k e to be lo v ed , c o n t i n u a l l y
underestim ates how im portant she i s to Henry and to Eleanor. That
i s why th e n o v el l o c a t e s such charm in the way t h a t we d is c o v e r
t h a t in s p i t e o f C a th e r in e ’s i n a t t e n t i o n to E le a n o r, h e r f r i e n d
s t i l l c a r e s f o r h e r and hopes to be co n nected to h e r. When Henry
d re a d s F r e d e ric k T iln e y ’s m arry in g I s a b e l l a Thorpe, s a y in g ,
’’Prepare for your s is t e r - i n - la w , Eleanor, and such a s is te r - in - la w
a s you must d e l i g h t i n ! — Open, c a n d id , a r t l e s s , g u i l e l e s s , w ith
a ffe c tio n s strong but sim ple, forming no p reten sio n s, and knowing
no d isg u is e ,” Eleanor movingly t e l l s him th a t Isa b e lla may not be
th o s e t h i n g s , bu t t h a t C a th e rin e i s , and she lo v e s h er f o r i t :
’’’Such a s is te r - in - la w , Henry, I should d e lig h t in ,' said Eleanor,
w ith a sm ile.” (206)
W e can see in Catherine Morland Austen's p o rtra y a l o f how i t
f e e l s to ad m ire o th e r p e o p le , and to hope to be loved in r e t u r n ,
t h a t "young" f e e l i n g where ev e ry c o n t a c t w ith s p e c i a l p eo p le is
enlightening because i t touches so receptive a s p i r i t . During the
time of the novel, Catherine has not been everything to Eleanor we
would wish, but Eleanor can accept th a t. She does not judgmentally
demand th a t Catherine be everything good before she loves her; she
i s g r a t e f u l f o r C a th e r in e 's a f f e c t i o n and g o o d -n a tu re a s she i s .
Affection does not have to be equally developed natures meeting in
some s o rt o f m ythical e q u ality . W e could w ait a long time to have
I
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f rie n d s i f th a t were the p r e r e q u is ite . In ste a d i t i s a connection
w ith people who are d i f f e r e n t from u s , w ith d i f f e r e n t h i s t o r i e s .
That d ifferen ce allow s for an influence more moving than the
h a s t i l y formed and c o m p le te ly f r i e n d s h i p I s a b e l l a Thorpe ra v e s
about. W e know how l i t t l e th a t in s ta n t frien d sh ip means. That is
why a c e n t r a l moment a t th e end o f th e book i s C a th e r in e ’s
s t r u g g l i n g to w r i t e to E lea n o r T iln e y . This i s th e s o r t o f a r t
A u s te n v a l u e s . I t i s n o t s e l f - c o n s c i o u s e x c e p t in E lin o r
Dashwood's sense; there are things th a t Catherine fe e ls which she
w ish e s to r e p r e s e n t , bu t she i s a ls o making a f le d g in g e f f o r t to
know th a t Eleanor i s a separate person, separate from Catherine's
f e e l i n g s — t h a t i s , she i s th in k in g ab o u t E lea n o r more f u l l y than
she e v e r has b e f o re . She does n o t want to h u r t E le a n o r, o r w r i t e
a n y th in g which w i l l do an i n j u s t i c e to h e r own f e e l i n g s tow ard
E le a n o r, " fo r a lr e a d y did C a th e rin e re p ro a c h h e r s e l f w ith having
p a r t e d fro m E l e a n o r c o l d l y . " (235) C a t h e r i n e 's g o a l i s
com plicated,
To compose a l e t t e r which m ight a t once do j u s t i c e to her
se n tim e n ts and h er s i t u a t i o n , convey g r a t i t u d e w ith o u t
s e r v i l e r e g r e t, be guarded w ith o u t co ld n ess, and honest
w ith o u t resen tm en t—a l e t t e r which Eleanor m ight not be
pained by the p e ru sa l o f—and, above a l l , which she m ight
n o t blush h e r s e l f , i f Henry should chance to se e .
And C a th e rin e's s o lu tio n in w r itin g her l e t t e r i s co m plicated; i t
show s how much sh e h as a c t u a l l y le a r n e d from E le a n o r. I t i s
im portant to see how Catherine must be able to value Eleanor's own
u n d e r s t a t e d n e s s , th e g e n t l e b r e v i t y w h ic h r e p r e s e n t s su c h
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c a r e f u l l y - e v a l u a t e d , long h i s t o r i e s o f th in k in g a b o u t what i s
im portant, in the compromise she, Catherine, chooses: " a fte r long
th o u g h t and much p e r p l e x i t y , to be v e ry b r i e f was a l l t h a t she
could d e te rm in e on w ith any c o n fid e n c e o f s a f e t y ." (236) We are
l e f t to im agine f o r o u r s e lv e s th e s im p le , underspoken language
beyond which Catherine w ill hope th a t Eleanor w ill imagine more, as
o f c o u rse she w i l l . That i s what i s so im p o r ta n t ab o u t th e way
th a t Catherine is momentarily cold to Eleanor without her coldness
s c u ttlin g t h e i r frien d sh ip . E le a n o r makes a llo w a n c e s j she f in d s
C a th e rin e so w o n d erfu l even as she i s , t h a t sh e , E le a n o r, can do
ju s tic e to Catherine's motives because she can allow for the fa c t
th a t there are c e rta in things which Catherine is s t i l l learning how
to do.
What i s sad i s t h a t th e f a l s e f r i e n d s h i p s o f bo th le a d in g
c h a r a c t e r s in th e S is te r h o o d n o v e ls g e t in th e way o f t h e i r
d e v e lo p in g th e more i n t e r e s t i n g one. But alw ay s th e damage, and
th e l o s s , i s l e s s s e r i o u s in th e e a r l y no v el th a n i n Emma.
I s a b e l l a 's e x c u rs io n g e t s in th e way o f C a th e r in e 's walk w ith
Eleanor and Henry, but th a t lo ss i s soon made up. Isa b e lla accuses
E lea n o r o f unw orthy f e e l i n g s , b u t h e r rem ark s do n o t a f f e c t
C a th e r in e 's o p in io n . On Emma's s id e , i t i s she who does th e most
damage to h e r f r i e n d s h i p w ith Jane F a ir f a x . Emma i s th e one who
s t a r t s the erroneous speculations which prevent her from g e ttin g to
know th e o th e r woman. H a r r i e t only makes th e r e l a t i v e l y m inor
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c r itic is m th a t she p re fe rs Emma's music to Jane's, adding th a t she
hates I ta li a n singing. W e only laugh.
The s e r i o u s problem h ere i s t h a t Emma chooses such an
in a d e q u a te f r i e n d because she f e a r s t h a t i f she becomes f r i e n d s
with anyone in some ways su p erio r to h e r s e lf , Mr. Knightley w i l l be
drawn away to l a v i s h a l l h i s c a re and co n cern on a n o th e r woman.
This i s la m e n ta b le ; Austen d r a m a tiz e s th e danger o f our c u r r e n t
sy stem to women. Women who a re r a i s e d to th in k in te rm s o f
com petition with others of t h e i r own gender for love, are unable to
cherish frien d sh ip s with other women. But i t is not only a male-
b ia s e d id e a o f love w ith i t s i n b u i l t i n g r e d i e n t o f c o m p e titio n
which a l i e n a t e s Emma from Jane. I t i s a ls o a f a l s e , t r a d i t i o n a l
notion of what frien d sh ip should be lik e . Emma envisions something
l i k e h e r i n s t a n t a n e o u s f r i e n d s h i p w ith H a r r i e t S m ith, where 3he
immediately takes over H a r r i e t 's l i f e , d e c id in g h e r most p r i v a t e
fe e lin g s, whom she w ill love—not Robert M artin—and who w ill love
h e r. To Emma's f e e l i n g s o f s u p e r i o r i t y o v e r H a r r i e t , Mr. E lto n
seems not-w onderful, but p e rfe c t for H arriet. This is the kind of
a l l i a n c e , though, Emma f a n c i e s when she f e e l s f r i e n d l y to Jan e,
"Upon th e w hole, Emma l e f t h e r w ith such s o f te n e d , c h a r i t a b l e
f e e l i n g s , a s made h e r look around . . . and la m e n t t h a t Highbury
a f f o r d e d no young man w orthy o f g iv in g h e r in d ep en d en ce; nobody
t h a t she co u ld scheme ab o u t f o r h e r." (168) Much i s going on
h e re . That Emma's th o u g h ts s t i l l c o n ta in h o s t i l i t y as w e ll as
i n t e r e s t , we know from th e n a r r a t o r 's "Upon th e whole." Emma's
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a t t i t u d e , even a t i t s most amiable, s t i l l includes le s s than kindly
fe e lin g s.
We can a ls o see t h a t Emma's p i c t u r e o f f r i e n d s h i p in c lu d e s
s u p e r i o r i t y , and Emma's "schemes" would be on ly a l i t t l e l e s s
p a t r o n iz in g th an Augusta E lto n 's f o r Jane’s employment. At le a s t
Mrs. E lto n , i n s u f f e r a b l e a s she i s , on ly i n t e r f e r e s ab o u t J a n e 's
l i v e l i h o o d , n o t h e r a f f e c t i o n s . But l a s t l y , and th e r e i s p ath o s
here, a c tu a lly someone i s av a ila b le in Highbury, or near i t , who
co u ld g iv e Jane "independence"; b u t t h a t Emma does n o t want to
th i n k o f Mr. K n ig h tle y , we can know from h e r con d escen d in g
r e f e r e n c e "young man," as w e ll as by h e r sen se o f p a n ic when Mrs.
Weston sugge s ts i t .
"These were charm ing f e e l i n g s — b u t n o t l a s t i n g , " A usten’s
n a rra to r t e l l s us, and her word "charming" in t h i s context should
in fo rm us t h a t even the r e l a t i v e l y good f e e l i n g s Emma d i r e c t s
toward Jane are not laudable. Her concern for Jane r e s u lts only in
a gushy v e r s io n o f th e i l l i c i t love s to r y she had a lr e a d y
manufactured, "She might have been unconsciously sucking in the sad
p o iso n ," i s Emma's " s y m p a th e tic " p o r t r a y a l o f Ja n e , bu t i s no t
r e a lly the supposition o f a person open to another's frien d sh ip or
influence. I t is the conclusion of someone who would ra th e r deal
in f i n a l i t i e s th an in w ondering a b o u t th e s o r t o f p e rso n Jane i s ,
what her experience is a c tu a lly lik e , and why she has, indeed, come
back to Highbury.
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The th in g t h a t Emma d i s l i k e s a b o u t Jane F a i r f a x i s t h a t she
f e e l s r e p u ls e d by h e r r e s e r v e . As I have p o in te d o u t w ith the
Family Heritage novels, reserve i s something to which Austen shows
t h a t women a re e n t i t l e d . Emma h e r s e l f w i l l be e q u a lly re s e rv e d
around Augusta E lto n , r i g h t l y d is a p p ro v in g h e r i m p e r t i n e n t
c u r i o s i t y and i n s t a n t f a m i l i a r i t y . But Emma i s ig n o r a n t a t th e
beginning o f her novel th a t what she th in k s o f as frie n d ly feelin g s
f o r women a re r e a l l y only th e r e a c t i o n t o , o r th e c o r o l l a r y o f,
t r a d i t i o n a l s t e r e o t y p e s f o r c o m p e titio n among women. She w ants
so m eth in g which i s c l o s e r to I s a b e l l a T horpe's m irage o f i n s t a n t
friendship than i t i s to the slow way Catherine and Eleanor Tilney
g e t a c q u a in te d , where C a th e rin e must w a it p a t i e n t l y th ro u g h th e
" fr e q u e n t want o f . . . th e s e r e q u i s i t e s , " th e a b i l i t y to " th in k
o f any th in g to sa y , and . . . co u rag e and l e i s u r e f o r sa y in g i t . "
(56) Actually, Catherine does not w ait p a tie n tly ; th a t i s why she
i s so an x io u s a t m is s in g a m eetin g w ith th e T iln e y s one day, th en
w ildly upset over being deprived of t h e i r walk together soon a f te r .
Her e a g e rn e s s and h e r dism ay come from how th o ro u g h ly she knows
th a t th i s i s a process which must be gone through, th a t friendship
w ith th e T iln e y s w i l l tak e tim e . M eanwhile she se e s i t as
fa sc in a tin g anyway.
But Emma wants only the most extreme intim acy. To g et th a t,
though, she s a c r i f i c e s knowing one whose in n e r n e s s can t r u l y
i n t e r e s t her. Emma's sense of Jane's reserve is f e l t as,
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She [Jane] was besides, which was worst of a l l , so cold,
so c a u tio u s ! There was no g e t t i n g a t h e r r e a l o p in io n .
Wrapt up in a cloak o f p o lite n e ss , she seemed determined
t o h a z a r d n o t h i n g . She was d i s g u s t i n g l y , was
suspiciously reserved. (169)
Emma's f e e l i n g s t r a v e l s q u ic k ly from d isg u st to suspicion. What
Emma wants from Jane F airfax i s her "real in sig h t in to Mr. Dixon's
c h a ra c te r, or her own value for his company, or the su itab len ess of
th e m atch," and i n f o r m a tio n a b o u t Frank C h u r c h ill "as to what he
t r u l y w as." These w ould be r e v e l a t i o n s to w hich Emma i s n o t
e n t i t l e d . But she f e e l s r e p e l l e d by J a n e 's c o n v e r s a tio n o f
" g e n e r a l a p p r o b a t i o n and sm o o th n e ss; n o th in g d e l i n e a t e d or
d i s t i n g u i s h e d , " and th e s a f e t y o f what she h a z a rd s ab o u t Frank
C h u r c h ills " i t was d i f f i c u l t to d e c id e on such p o i n t s . M anners
were a l l t h a t co u ld be s a f e l y judged o f , under a much lo n g e r
knowledge th an th ey had y e t had o f Mr. C h u r c h ill. She b e lie v e d
ev ery body found h i s manners p le a s in g ." At both th e end o f t h a t
chapter and the beginning of the next, we are to ld th a t "Emma could
n o t f o r g iv e h e r." (169» 170) When she c o m p la in s o f J a n e 's
behavior to Mr. Knightley, Emma focuses on how "I was pleased by my
own p e rs e v e ra n c e in a s k in g q u e s ti o n s , and amused to t h i n k how
l i t t l e inform ation I obtained." (171) Emma does not r e a liz e th a t
th e i n f o r m a tio n she d e s i r e s i s a p r i v i l e g e which b e g in n in g
a c q u a in ta n c e s do n o t o f f e r . She i s n o t c o n te n t, a s C a th e rin e i s
w i t h E l e a n o r , t o go t h r o u g h " t h e f i r s t r u d i m e n t s o f an
a c q u a in ta n c e " (NA 56) by t a l k i n g ab o u t g e n e r a l th i n g s . Emma
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demands much more, but she i s u n w illin g to w a it and arran g e walks
as C atherine does, to make i t happen.
Where th e Fam ily H e rita g e n o v e ls a d d r e s s how th e c u l t u r e
imposes u n entitlem ent on women, the Sisterhood novels explore how
women a r e ta u g h t by th e c u l t u r e to make f a l s e demands on o th e r
women which hinder the formation of frien d sh ip s among women. Emma
w ants a d o m in a tin g in tim a c y . C a th e rin e d e s i r e s g ore and a
" h e r o in e ’s" a d v e n tu re i n s t e a d o f a new p e r s o n ’s i n t e r e s t in
another in d iv id u al person. Put another way, C atherine’s mania a t
Northanger for a gothic quest is a way of thinking only of h e rs e lf,
o f d e c o r a tin g h e r own l i f e , r a t h e r th a n t r u l y lo o k in g o u ts id e to
what others experience, p a r tic u la rly Eleanor Tilney. When Eleanor
s a y s , " s i g h i n g ,” t h a t she was away when h e r m other d ie d , "Her
i l l n e s s was sudden and s h o r t ; and, b e fo re I a r r i v e d i t was a l l
over," Catherine i s unable to respond sym pathetically to Eleanor’s
f e e l i n g . I n s te a d she r e a c t s as i f E le a n o r ’s l i f e i s only p a r t o f
her own entertainm ent, p a rt of the gothic s e ttin g in which her own
h i s t o r y w i l l d e v e lo p , " C a th e r in e ’s blood ran c o ld w ith h o r r id
suggestions which n a tu ra lly sprang from these words." (186) The
problem i s t h a t th e r e i s no develo p m en t; C a th e rin e i s ch o o sin g a
s e t c u ltu ra l p a tte rn , where a heroine's l i f e occurs sep a ra te ly and
in c o m p e titio n w ith o t h e r women. The h e ro in e i s a paragon o f
e v e r y th in g and o th e r p e o p le 's l i v e s only enhance th e i n t e r e s t o f
her own. Austen is searching beyond such a way of imagining women,
always a sin g le fig u re , the one p e rfe c t woman who i s manipulated
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ag ain st a f l a t background of in f e r io r fig u res. In th i s early novel,
Austen p ic tu re s what women miss when we view our liv e s according to
t h i s t r a d i t i o n a l p r o to t y p e — we lo s e f r i e n d l y tim e s w ith s p e c i a l
people lik e Eleanor.
While many readers, p a r tic u la rly Wayne Booth, have celebrated
the v irtu e s o f Jane F airfax, few have given Eleanor Tilney her due.
W e can see how sexism has affe c te d the readings of Northanger Abbey
by no ticin g the discrepancy between the sheer volume of space and
d e b a te devoted to Henry T iln e y , and A u sten ’s r e l a t i o n to him,
compared to the r e la tiv e lack of i n t e r e s t in Eleanor's ro le in t h i s
book. I t seems to me t h a t we could r e s o lv e a good d e a l o f the
debate over whether Henry does or does not speak for h is author, by
perceiving how the n a rra tiv e supports Eleanor as e n th u s ia s tic a lly
as i t does Henry. We need no lo n g e r a c c e p t Henry as A u sten 's
pedantic sta n d -in , an u n in te re stin g function, when we once notice
how th e n a r r a t o r " l i k e s ” E le a n o r, and how she s u p p o rts E le a n o r's
words and actio n s as c o n s is te n tly as she does Henry's. Readers who
stam p N o rth an g er Abbey a s a s a t i r i c n o v e l, r e a d e r s who d i s c u s s
Henry a t length as Austen's spokesperson, while ignoring Eleanor,
are bringing to an innovative novel q u ite mundane concerns.
I t i s a commonplace in our c u l t u r e t h a t so i n t e r e s t i n g a
person as Eleanor Tilney would be ignored because she is a woman,
as General Tilney ignores her. But our feminism should enable us
to se e A u ste n 's, to see what i s a t s ta k e in h e r c r e a t i o n o f so
i n t e r e s t i n g a s i d e l i n e c h a r a c t e r . E le a n o r's l i f e i s even more
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c o m p lic a te d th an C a th e rin e can know. She i s h o p e le s s ly in love
w ith someone whose " i n f e r i o r it y of s itu a tio n ," (251) or r a th e r the
General’s greed, prevents her from marrying. I think we must re
read the scenes in which Eleanor appears in th a t lig h t, as c r i t i c s
have r e - r e a d Emma to f in d Jane F a i r f a x ’s c o n n e c tio n to Frank
C h u r c h ill. P r i m a r i l y , t h e r e i s an em otion r e a d e r s have no t
acknow ledged in how "The b r o th e r and th e s i s t e r looked a t each
oth er," (205) when Catherine quotes th e i r fa th e r's avowals of "only
v alu tin g ] money as i t allowed him to promote the happiness o f h is
c h ild r e n ." A f i r s t re a d in g r e v e a l s only th e d i s t a n c e betw een
G en eral T iln e y 's b ra g g in g l i e s and th e young p e o p le 's b e t t e r
knowledge. But Eleanor and Henry too, I presume, know th a t th e ir
p a re n t’s covetousness d iv id es th e fo rm e r from h e r charm ing young
man. E lea n o r T iln e y i s a more c o m p lic a te d c r e a t i o n th an r e a d e r s
have observed. W e need to see why Austen asks her readers to fe e l
so p a in fu lly what Catherine loses when she chooses se lf-a b so rp tio n ,
i d l e g r a t i f i c a t i o n o f f a n t a s y , a " h e r o in e 's " s c r i p t . For she
ch o o ses them over i n t e r e s t s which would draw h e r o u t o f h e r s e l f
in to friendship w ith someone whose l i f e cannot be summarized by the
c a t e g o r i e s she has m em orized. What i s c e n t r a l ab o u t N o rth an g er
Abbey, lik e Emma, i s th a t th a t person i s a woman.
"True love," as Austen c a l l s i t in Mansfield Park, w ith a man
i s d i f f e r e n t , b ecause i t i s , a s we have se e n , a p u re ly p e r s o n a l
i n t e r e s t outside the s e lf . But i t also , in i t s sanctioning by the
c u l t u r e , c a r r i e s re w a rd s w hich, i f th e y a re n o t s e l f - g r a t i f y i n g ,
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a r e r e c o g n iz a b ly t h r i l l i n g b e c a u se th e y a r e so c e l e b r a t e d by th e
c u ltu r e , by fa m ily and frie n d s , and meanwhile so a l t e r a person’s
l i f e , t h a t th e g r a t i f i c a t i o n s comes w h ith er or no c h a ra c te rs seek
them . T hat i s why Emma, e s p e c i a l l y , and a l s o N o rth a n g e r Abbey,
c o n t r a s t A ugusta E lto n and I s a b e l l a Thorpe who w ant to m a rry f o r
th e im p o rta n c e i t g i v e s th em , w ith th e m ain c h a r a c t e r s who do i t
w ith o u t c a r i n g f o r th e ’’g lo r y " o f i t . T h at i s a l s o why t h e s e two
n o v e l s end w i t h t h e l e a d i n g c h a r a c t e r s b e g in n in g " p e r f e c t
h a p p in e ss."
A u ste n , i n b o th N o rth a n g e r Abbey and Emma, i s n o t j u s t
c r e a tin g lead c h a ra c te rs who a re human, in T h r illin g 's words, who
have "a m o ra l l i f e a s a man h a s a m o ra l l i f e , " b u t c r e a t i n g
p a r a l l e l s it u a t i o n s where th e p ro ta g o n is ts le a rn to value women as
a d m ir a b le humans i n s t e a d o f puny r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s o f th e skewed
q u a l i t i e s f e m a le s a r e t r a d i t i o n a l l y s u p p o s e d t o e p i t o m i z e .
Marianne Dashwood i s a weak c h a ra c te r who, I have argued, has been
adm ired by c r i t i c s because she embodies only th e narrow q u a l i t i e s
re a d e rs are co m fo rtab le g ra n tin g to women; E lin o r Dashwood has been
d i s l i k e d b e c a u se she i s a w hole human, a d m ir a b le in th e way th e
c u l t u r e th i n k s o n ly men a r e a d m ir a b le . T his i s a l s o t r u e o f th e
d i f f e r e n c e b e tw e e n Fanny P r ic e and Mary C ra w fo rd : Fanny i s a
s t r u g g l i n g , and u l t i m a t e l y a s tr o n g human p e r s o n ; Mary d o es o n ly
what i s t r a d i t i o n a l . Fanny i s as independent as any person can be,
fo r she makes h er own d e c is io n s , and holds out fo r what she needs;
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Mary i s dependent on what th e world says fo r a l l her o p in io n s, and
fo r encouragement to marry Edmund once he has been ordained.
In th e tw o S is te r h o o d n o v e ls , we n o t o n ly have to a d j u s t o u r
v is io n to in clu d e a new r e l a t io n to fem ale p ro ta g o n is ts , allo w in g
f o r more i n o u r d e f i n i t i o n s o f th em , b u t we m ust se e th e m ain
c h a ra c te rs perform th a t same a c t of im ag in atio n w ith o th e r women.
Along w ith th e p r o ta g o n is t, th e re a d e r too must le a rn to see more
s ig n if ic a n c e , more meanings worthy o f a q u estio n in g im a g in a tio n , in
th e se women, than th e c u ltu re norm ally adm its women can m e rit. But
A usten g iv e s us th e h e l p f u l d e m o n s t r a t i o n , th ro u g h h e r m ain
c h a r a c te r s ' d is c o v e r y o f i t , o f w hat we a r e to f in d l o v e l y and
f a s c i n a t i n g i n t h e s e o t h e r women. I t te a c h e s u s n o t o n ly how to
change our r e l a t io n w ith h e r novels and p ro ta g o n is ts to a fe m in is t
r e l a t io n , but i t can a lso teach us how to value th e much-overlooked
s id e lin e fem ale c h a ra c te rs . Other women, not j u s t one p er novel,
become w o rth y o f a s e a r c h in g i m a g i n a t i o n , o f th e t h i n k i n g we
c o n s id e r i m p o r t a n t . B ecause we have e n jo y e d im a g in in g a b o u t
C a t h e r i n e 's p o s s i b l e r e l a t i o n , and h e r a c t u a l o n e, w ith E le a n o r
T ilney a t th e Abbey, and Emma's w ith Jane F a irfa x on th e s t a i r s o f
th e B a te s 's home in H ig h b u ry , and e n v i s i o n i n g th e p o s s i b i l i t i e s
f o r t h e i r f u t u r e c o n t a c t , th e n we a r e b e t t e r a b le to ta k e such
frie n d s h ip s s e rio u s ly in our own liv e s .
In stead o f co n tin u in g f a m il i a r myths fo r us to judge our liv e s
by, Austen im agines new sta n d a rd s fo r our connections w ith women
and men. The d iffe re n c e i s th a t i t would be d i f f i c u l t to a b s tr a c t
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h ers out o f c o n te x t, to make o f f w ith th e p a tte r n , and say, "Now my
l i f e rin g s tr u e , now i t seems im p o rta n t, now my ex p erien ce seems to
be ro m a n tic a lly i n t e r e s t i n g r a th e r than b o rin g ly humdrum and open-
en d ed ." For i t i s t h a t " o p e n -e n d e d n e s s ," t h a t f e e l i n g t h a t t h e i r
liv e s a re boring and le s s in te r e s t i n g than f i c t i o n because they a re
n o t so " a tm o s p h e r ic ," so c o m f o r ta b ly s u r r o u n d in g , w hich c a u s e s
C atherine and Emma to choose a reco g n izab le atm osphere which t e l l s
them t h a t th e y a r e h a v in g an i n t e r e s t i n g tim e . W ith o u t th e
s t r e n g t h to i n v e n t t h e i r own e v a l u a t i o n s o f w o rth y e x p e r ie n c e ,
C atherine and Emma a ccep t the c u l t u r a l p a tte r n s o f judgment.
Austen shows us t h a t to stum ble on what i s r e a l l y in t e r e s t i n g ,
we m ust g iv e up o ld fo rm s o f im a g in in g , o f i n t e r p r e t i n g o u r
e x p e r ie n c e . We m ust do t h a t , b e c a u s e , m ost i m p o r t a n t l y , th e o ld
fo rm s ig n o re women e x c e p t a s th e skew ed m o d els o f e i t h e r th e
f a in tin g w eakling o r th e d isg u ise d p rin c e ss . Austen shows th a t in
o r d e r to p a r t i c i p a t e in w hat i s t r u l y i n t e r e s t i n g , we m ust open
o u r s e l v e s to t h a t o p e n -e n d e d n e s s , o p e n - w o r ld is h n e s s , and w onder
about th in g s which e x i s t o u tsid e o f o u rse lv e s. What t h a t tak es is
a d i f f e r e n t connection to th e w orlds o u tsid e the s e l f ; in s te a d of
an o b s e s s i v e , f e v e r i s h d r iv e to e n t e r t a i n o u r s e l v e s , we need a
calm er, s t i l l e r r e l a t i o n , a more q u estio n in g connection to what i s
o th e r. W e need a way o f liv in g that^ in ste a d o f ru sh in g or h u r tlin g
on th ro u g h th e o b s e s s io n s w hich g e t us th ro u g h o u r t i m e , i s
w illin g to suspend o r calm our an x ie ty about w hether our experience
i s r e a l l y f u l f i l l i n g , long enough to ask , "What i s h e re? ," "What am
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I h e a r in g ? ," "What seems to be im p o r ta n t f o r t h i s p erso n ? " I f
Catherine had been able to do t h i s , she could have a c tu a lly talked
w ith E le a n o r ab o u t h e r m o th e r, and even been a b le to r e a l l y ,
perhaps, comfort her for the kind of lo ss th a t we only g e t used to
b e a r i n g — i t n e v e r f i n a l l y goes away. Her j u s t s a y in g , "Oh, I am
v ery s o r r y ," would p ro b a b ly have f e l t v ery lo v e ly to E le a n o r. We
should not fo rg et how se rio u sly Henry answers Mrs. Allen when she
surm ises th a t he must be a g re a t comfort to his s i s t e r . She means
only h is a b i l i t y to pick out gowns and m a te ria l, but we know th a t
he hopes he is much more.
I f i t seems odd to claim th a t Emma needs a stro n g er i n t e r e s t
in h e r own th o u g h ts and in h e r l i f e , I r e f e r to what Morgan has
c alled a fear th a t l i f e w ill not be as in te re s tin g as the forms of
our m inds.^ Emma’s i s a p a n ic r e a c t i o n , and we can see i t most
f u l l y in th e p la c e s she h u r t s h e r s e l f , making m is ta k e s she w i l l
l a t e r not only re g re t but s u ffe r from. I think of when she escapes
from Miss B a te s ’s re a d in g o f Jane F a i r f a x ’s l e t t e r , o r when she
does not allow H arriet Smith to introduce her to e i t h e r Robert or
E lizabeth Martin. Perhaps we may a l l sympathize with Emma’s r e l i e f
t h a t , a f t e r bein g fo rc e d to h e a r a l l J a n e ’s news th ro u g h M iss
Bates's paraphrasing, she escapes the l e t t e r i t s e l f . But perhaps
i f Emma had rem ained to h e a r J a n e 's a c t u a l w ords, she would n o t
have been able to su sta in her "ingenious and animating suspicion"
(160) about Jane's i l l i c i t love for a married man. In any case, by
sp en d in g tim e w ith H a r r i e t S m ith , Emma s u b j e c t s h e r s e l f to many
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more boring moments of tedium and t r i v i a than she would have had to
endure lis te n in g to the l e t t e r of someone lik e Jane Fairfax. But
th e p o i n t i s t h a t Emma w ants to g e t away, n o t so t h a t she m ight
have h e r tim e to h e r s e l f to pay a t t e n t i o n to a more i n t e r e s t i n g
l i f e , but so she can e n te r ta in h e r s e lf by talk in g to and pretending
to th in k she e n l i g h t e n s and e d u c a te s H a r r i e t . She i s a n x io u s to
’’escape" in order th a t she not be kept longer from her indulgences.
We only g e t a h i n t o f how C a th e rin e l e a r n s t h a t s t i l l e r
r e la tio n to her l i f e , and th a t self-rep ro ach fo r p ast in a tte n tio n
to E le a n o r; she sa y s "No f r i e n d can be b e t t e r w o rth keep in g than
Eleanor.” (236) W e must recognize two things here. One is th a t,
o b v io u s ly , she i s th in k in g o f how she lo v e s Henry, and does no t
want to say so to h e r m other. But th e o t h e r i s t h a t i t i s t r u l y
appropriate th a t Catherine here mentions and defends only Eleanor,
both because no frien d could be more worth keeping, and because her
sense of Eleanor's specialness comes p a rtly from self-rep ro ach a t
o n ly g e t t i n g c lo s e to h e r because she was H enry's s i s t e r , and
i n i t i a l l y ignoring E leanor's separate l i f e .
In Emma, we spend more tim e w ith Emma a s she d is c o v e r s t h a t
she "had s c a r c e l y a s t r o n g e r r e g r e t th an f o r h e r p a s t c o ld n e s s ,"
(389) and t r i e s to undo o r make up f o r h e r fo rm e r i n a t t e n t i o n to
Jane. But because o f th e whole Frank C h u r c h ill s i t u a t i o n , Jane
cannot forgive Emma u n t i l very l a t e in the novel, when we are able
to see them enjoy only b r ie f looks of frien d sh ip across Mrs. Elton,
and an e n t r a n c i n g l y happy scene on th e s t a i r s . However, I would
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arg u e t h a t Austen makes Augusta E lto n t h w a r t Emma's and J a n e 's
a t t e m p t s a t c o n f i d e n t i a l t a l k i n g i n o r d e r t h a t we w i l l im agine
about i t the more, and say to ourselves how wonderful i t would have
been i f th e s e two women had been a b le to t a l k . Sim ply, Austen
makes us jo y o u s ly enjoy what l i t t l e c o n v e r s a tio n th ey s h a re and
joyously mourn i t s in te rru p tio n , mourn th a t Jane, as Emma says, is
goin g away, " j u s t a s I beg in to know you." (460) The S is te r h o o d
n o v e ls make us v a lu e and long f o r s i s t e r h o o d w ith o th e r women by
show ing us how i t can be l o s t . C a th e rin e w i l l be s i s t e r s w ith
E le a n o r, and u n d o u b ted ly see h e r f a i r l y o f te n and sh a re fa b u lo u s
tim es when they meet. But th a t i s not the same thing as being able
to comfort Eleanor when she was tru ly su ffe rin g . And though we may
presume th a t Jane w ill v i s i t Miss and Mrs. Bates and the Westons,
fo r the most p a rt, Jane w ill be p re tty simply gone.
With Eleanor T ilney, Austen shows us t h a t women's s u ffe rin g s
from our system in clu d e more than the poverty and the doom to the
"g o v ern ess-trad e" which Miss Bates and Jane F a irfa x , r e s p e c tiv e ly ,
have s u f f e r e d and f a c e . T h e ir s a r e bad p r o b le m s , d i f f i c u l t ,
w re n c h in g p ro b le m s . But a l s o e v i l i s th e s i t u a t i o n o f E le a n o r
T iln e y , "w hose r e a l pow er i s n o th in g ," a s she i s b u l l i e d and
h a r r a s s e d by a b r u t a l p a t r i a r c h . I t h i n k t h e S is te r h o o d n o v e ls
o f f e r us som ething p a r t ic u la r l y s p e c ia l, beyond even t h e i r c a p a c ity
to make us e n v isio n th e jo y s o f fu tu re f rie n d s h ip s among women, and
our n o s ta lg ic r e g r e t th a t th e le a d in g c h a ra c te rs m issed out on much
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o f i t during the course o f t h e i r n o v els. The a d d itio n a l in v e n tio n
they o f f e r i s Austen’s sense o f the common bonds among women.
Both n o v e ls p o i n t to w hat women can s u f f e r and s t r u g g l e
th ro u g h . E le a n o r T i l n e y ’s and Jane F a i r f a x ’s s i t u a t i o n s a r e
u n l i k e , f u l l o f d i f f e r e n t k in d s o f p a in ; Jan e may have w h a te v e r
f rie n d s she can make, but w ill be to rn away form them to become a
governess. She has no money, but has loving r e l a t i v e s and f rie n d s ,
th o u g h a t e r r i b l e s e c r e t , an en g ag em en t w hich i s s o u r in g a s she
w atches h er beloved f l i r t w ith an o th er woman, makes her m iserab le.
The v e ry a t t e n t i o n s o f h e r a u n t and g r e a t - a u n t w eary h e r a s she
s t r u g g l e s w ith s e c r e t s o rro w s and a n g e r. E le a n o r T iln e y h as a
home, b u t i s s e c u re in no o t h e r way. N o rth a n g e r Abbey p ro b a b ly
f e e l s more l i k e M a n s f ie ld P ark to a young Fanny P r ic e th a n
H a r tfie ld to a c o n fid e n t Emma Woodhouse. She w ill not have to face
fin d in g a slave-w ages jo b , but in every o th e r way E lean o r’s l i f e i s
c o n s t r i c t e d by a t y r a n n i c a l f o r c e . She may n o t p ic k h e r f r i e n d s ,
she may not even re c e iv e her own m ail i f h er p a re n t i s angry a t th e
f rie n d , she may n o t be u n ite d w ith th e man whom she lo v es, and she
m ust spend h e r tim e d r e a d in g h e r f a t h e r ’s r a g e . P e rh a p s i t i s
p o s s ib le to say th a t Jane F a irfa x has and fa c e s a h ard er l i f e than
Eleanor T iln ey , but what i s th e p o in t?
Today when I h ear women of c o lo r, women o f judaism , women of
C h r is tia n ity , women o f no f a i t h , women w ith no money, women w ith
q u ite a l o t , women who are le s b ia n , women who are s t r a i g h t , women
who a r e s i n g l e , women who a r e a t t a c h e d , t e l l i n g each o t h e r t h a t
307
th e y each s u f f e r th e m o st, I f e e l t h a t we have l o s t s i g h t o f w hat
th e bad t h i n g i s . I t i s n o t each o t h e r . Now when we a r e f i n a l l y
a tte n d in g to th e s p e c ia l p ain s o f women liv in g in what t h i s c u ltu re
c a l l s th e " t h i r d w o rld ," o r in th e U. S., th e " lo w e r c l a s s , " we
need n o t s c o r n a s th e p a t r i a r c h y a lw a y s h a s , th e i l l s o f "m id d le
c l a s s " women: th e e a t i n g d i s o r d e r s , th e drug d ep en d en cy , and
s u i c i d a l lo n g in g s , among o t h e r s . Women o f a l l c l a s s e s and
c a te g o rie s are raped, beaten, k i l l e d ; they are in tim id a te d day by
d a y , t h e i r w ork i s u n d e r v a lu e d , t h e i r c o n c e rn s la u g h e d a t , t h e i r
in n o v atio n s scorned, t h e i r achievem ents m inim ized or ignored, t h e i r
needs not m et, t h e i r la b o r taken fo r g ra n te d , and underpaid. These
a re the problem s o f women.
Our c u ltu re g iv e s men c r e d i t fo r being th e v a lia n t f ig h te r s ,
the courageous s tr u g g le r s , but a l l through our l iv e s women a re made
to s tru g g le fo r ev ery th in g we accom plish in ways t h a t , w hite men a t
l e a s t , w i l l n e v e r be f o rc e d t o know. T h is i s why o u r d e f i n i t i o n s
o f fem inism must in clu d e defending each o th e r, n o t, n ev er, j u s t how
we can clim b a c o rp o ra te la d d e r f o r th e sake o f becoming a c a re e r
woman. That is a p a tr ia r c h a l fo rm u la tio n which keeps in place the
i n h e r i t e d s t r u c t u r e s . What we need i n s t e a d o f C a t h e r i n e 's
o b liv io u s c e r ta in ty th a t Eleanor can have no r e a l p a in , and Emma’s
angry r iv a lr y which f e a r s in Jan e's accom plishm ents a t h r e a t to her
own hegemony among th e p e o p le she c a r e s a b o u t, i s th e k in d o f
a f f e c t i o n a t e t e n d e r n e s s w hich b o th le a d in g c h a r a c t e r s l e a r n to
o f f e r Eleanor T ilney and Jane F a irfa x .
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The S is te r h o o d books show us t h a t human h a p p in e s s , t h a t
f e m in is t aim s, are not a m a tte r o f sim ple freedom , because freedom
i s a c o n c e p t t h a t i m p l i e s a s e lf h o o d n o t t i e d to o t h e r s in even
good w ays. I t means n o th in g to be f r e e when t h e r e a r e p e o p le
around you whom you love. Nothing w i l l fre e humans o f our concern
f o r lo v e d o n e s ; we w i l l a lw a y s b e , i f n o t a c t u a l l y w o r r ie d , a t
l e a s t c o n c e rn e d , t h a t no harm s h o u ld come to them . T hat i s why
E le a n o r t u r n s so s u d d e n ly to f e a r s f o r F r e d e r ic k T iln e y when
C ath erin e m entions som ething h o r r ib le to come out o f London, and
why Emma f e a r s i n s t a n t l y f o r a l l th e K n ig h tle y s in London, n o t
l e a s t h er beloved Mr. K nightley, when Mr. Weston speaks o f news to
be " b ro k e ” to h e r . Emma’s m oving w o rry a b o u t Anne W esto n 's
p re g n a n c y and th e b i r t h o f Anna, and in d e e d , Mr. W oodhouse’s and
I s a b e l l a K n ig h tle y ’s c o n c e rn f o r e v e ry o n e 's h e a l t h , M iss B a te s 's
f o r h e r m o th e r's and J a n e 's h e a l t h , F ra n k 's f o r J a n e 's , and Mr.
K n ig h tley 's fo r Emma’s supposed h e a rta c h e , a l l show how d e a r, how
c e n t r a l , o th e rs ' w e lfa re and concerns a re to us, and how f a r Austen
i s from advocating some selfhood is o la te d from o th e rs , o f p u rely
in d iv id u a l choice and f re e w i l l . That i s t r a d i t i o n a l myth designed
fo r men. Northanger Abbey and Emma, on the o th e r hand, o f f e r women
and men both th e amusement and ex citem en t o f sim ply being involved
w ith in t e r e s t i n g people.
309
Notes
1 —'
'Susan Morgan, In the Meantime; Character and Perception in
Jane Austen's F ictio n (Chicago: U niversity of Chicago Press, 1980),
p. 53.
2Wayne C. Booth, The Rhetoric o f F ic tio n (Chicago: University
of Chicago P ress, 1961), p. 249.
^Morgan has shown how th e p r e v a i l i n g view t h a t Henry has a
m en to r-relatio n to Catherine is an inadequate way of understanding
t h e i r r e la tio n , In the Meantime, pp. 67-76.
\fhen Women K ill, d i r . Lee Grant, HBO documentary, 1983.
c
■'M . Haft, "Women in Prison: D iscrim inatory P ra c tic e s and Some
Legal S olutions," Women, Crime and J u s tic e , ed. Susan K. Datesman
and Frank R. S c a r p i t t i (New York: Oxford U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1980),
pp. 320-338.
^Morgan, In the Meantime, pp. 23-50.
310
Chapter 6
Beyond the Legacy of the Father
in
Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion
I might have known th ere were places in the world th a t woman could
walk, su re-fo o ted , and look powerful.
— Janet Kauffman
Places in the World a Woman
Could Walk
One reward o f atten d in g to Austen's beginnings, to the kind of
distance from the pro tag o n ist w ith which her books s t a r t , i s th a t
i t rev eals unexpected connections between Austen's apparently most
d i s s i m i l a r n o v e l s . T h e i r o p e n i n g s u n i t e h e r most s u b t l e ,
compressed work, often classed as an "autumnal" "departure," with
the most popular, and c o n s is te n tly im ita te d , of her novels. Care
fo r t h e i r beginnings rev eals th a t Persuasion i s not a departure for
A usten, bu t an a l t e r n a t e v i s i o n o f i s s u e s c e n t r a l to P rid e and
P rejudice.
311
Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion share opening d escrip tio n s
so vivid th a t they amount to dram atizations of a f a th e r ’s fa v o rite
s p o r t . I have c a l l e d th e s e th e P a t r i a r c h y n o v e ls because t h e i r
b e g in n in g s d e p i c t th e r u l e r s in a m ale -d o m in a te d c u l t u r e , th e
fa th e rs , in c h a r a c te r is tic actio n s. The e a r l i e r d e sc rip tio n i s , of
c o u r s e , fa m o u s . Mr. B e n n e t b a i t s M rs. B e n n e t. He u s e s a
p r e r o g a t i v e b o l s t e r e d by th e p a t r i a r c h y to be " i n s o l e n t in [ h i s ]
wit" (E^ 37*0 to another person, the person we are tra in e d to think
o f , n o t a s a s e p a r a t e p e rso n , b u t a s " h is lad y " (3) o r " h is w ife ."
(4) The beginning to Pride and Prejudice has sparked the g re a te s t
c r i t i c a l a tte n tio n , and readers have offered ingenious versions of
th e re aso n ed i r o n i e s th e y see Austen la y in g o u t. Yet iro n y i s a t
once an a g g r e s s iv e and a d e ta c h e d q u a l i t y , a term invoked by
r e a d e r s who want to p o r tr a y Austen as a s a t i r i s t , a r e a l i s t i c
c h r o n i c l e r o f E n g lis h c o u n try l i f e , a c o n s e r v a t i v e com m entator
p r i z i n g t a n g i b l e a b so lu te ,s and s o c i e t y over th e i n d i v i d u a l , or
b a la n c e and p r o p o rtio n e d re a so n o v er im a g in a tio n .^ Yet th e
c r i t i c a l c o n te n tm e n t w ith th e term "iro n y " has done more than
merely skew read ers' general impression of the content of Austen's
work. I t has a ls o been a way f o r c r i t i c s to r e f r a i n from a s k in g
what Austen's meaning i s , what the laughter i s for.
Most r e a d e r s have been s a t i s f i e d to l o c a t e " i r o n i e s " in
A usten's f i c t i o n and l a b e l th e whole a s " s a t i r e , " a s i f th o s e
ap p e lla tio n s compose an end in themselves. They suggest laughter
f o r i t s own s a k e , a s i f n o th in g m a t t e r s and we e x i s t , l i k e Mr.
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Bennet, only "to make sp o rt fo r our neighbours and laugh a t them in
our turn.” (364) As Morgan shows, "Mr. Bennet has the d istan ce of
iro n y . . . . But Austen knows t h a t what we l i v e f o r , and what she
w r i t e s f o r , i s so m eth in g e l s e . " 4 1 I want to arg u e t h a t th e
in ad eq u acy o f th e term l i e s in how th e c r i t i c a l i n s i s t e n c e on
" iro n y ” s t i f l e s wonder ab o u t why Austen w ants us to lau g h . I t
prevents readers from seeing the im p licatio n s o f her f ic tio n . Too
many r e a d e r s have r e s t e d w ith a p i c t u r e o f h e r work as " s m a ll,"
because they have not asked fundamental questions about what her
books do. I contend t h a t , f o r i n s t a n c e , once r e a d e r s have
experienced E lizabeth's sense o f her p aren ts' m arriage, we need to
re -ev alu ate what we have laughed about before.
S '
E l i z a b e t h , h o w e v e r , had n e v e r b e e n b l i n d to t h e
im propriety of her fa th e r's behaviour as a husband. She
had alw ay s seen i t w ith p a in ; . . . she endeavoured to
f o r g e t what she could n o t o v e rlo o k , . . . t h a t c o n t i n u a l
b reach o f c o n ju g a l o b l i g a t i o n and decorum w hich, in
e x p o sin g h i s w ife to th e con tem p t o f h e r own c h i l d r e n ,
was so highly reprehensible. (236)
This inform ation ought to in v ite us to retu rn to the opening with
new q u e s t i o n s , where th o s e q u e s tio n s w i l l c h a lle n g e how we have
been ta u g h t to a c c e p t as th e norm Mr. B en n et's " i l l - j u d g e d . . .
d ire c tio n of ta le n ts " (237) vented in scorn of Mrs. Bennet.
The world has plenty of s i l l y and vulgar men, but they are not
so derided and v i l l i f i e d . From c r i t i c s , Mrs. Bennet has c e rta in ly
drawn a w orse " p re s s " th a n male c h a r a c t e r s who do f a r more r e a l
harm: John Willoughby, George Wickham, and Henry Crawford. Mrs.
Bennet is not a t e r r i f i c person; she is more in te re s te d in her own
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aim s th a n in p r o t e c t i n g h e r f a m ily . C e r t a i n l y , h e r advocacy o f
women's r i g h t s amounts l e s s to concern f o r women or f o r h e r
d a u g h te rs th a n i t does to s im p le s e l f - i n t e r e s t . Her i n s i s t e n c e
t h a t "I_ sh o u ld be ashamed o f hav in g [an e s t a t e ] t h a t was only
e n t a i l e d on me," (228) i s c o m ic a lly c o n t r a d i c t e d by th e f a c t t h a t
she i s c u r r e n t l y s u p p o rte d by an e n t a i l e d e s t a t e — Longbourn was
e n t a i l e d upon h e r spouse. Mrs. Bennet i s q u i t e s ta n d a rd as th e
woman who conforms to tr a d itio n a l or anti-woman forms, try in g to
b u lly E liz a b e th i n t o m arry in g Mr. C o l l i n s , and b ra g g in g a b o u t,
instead of being in te re s te d in , the r e s t of her daughters. But she
i s no more c o n te m p tib le th a n th e male c h a r a c t e r s who th in k
according to usual, p a tr ia rc h a l, d ic ta te s , not le a s t Mr. Bennet.
A u sten 's b e g in n in g s do n o t embody an i r o n i c d i s t a n c e from
e v e n ts and c h a r a c t e r s . Comparing A u sten ’s achievements w ith Mr.
Bennet's w i l l show t h i s , fo r he does nothing in te re s tin g w ith h is
humor. The b e g in n in g exposes what he u se s h i s iro n y to g a in : he
w ants to f e e l s u p e r i o r to o th e r c h a r a c t e r s in a q u i t e shoddy way.
In order to e s ta b lis h the supremacy he covets, Mr. Bennet stoops to
unworthy ploys—he conceals f a c ts which could be e a s ily revealed,
e x a c t l y as an i r o n i c a u th o r d e c e iv e s th e a u d ie n c e . Mr. Bennet
takes pride in knowing what no one e lse can i n t u i t , the s e c re ts of
h is own behavior. His so -called unconventionality rep resen ts the
norm which c o n tin u ally claim s fre e -th in k in g for q u ite t r a d itio n a l
power-brokers. W e are to ld th a t Mr. Bennet
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had always intended to v i s i t him [Mr. Bingley], though to
the l a s t always assuring h is wife th a t he should not go;
and t i l l the evening a f t e r the v i s i t was paid, she had no
knowledge of i t . . . . The astonishm ent of the la d ie s was
j u s t what he wished. (6-7)
For A usten ’s n a r r a t o r th e g o a l i s n o t to crow over th e d i f f e r e n c e
betw een what she knows and what she t e l l s us. That i s only s e l f -
in d u lg e n c e . For A usten, i m p o r t a n t t r u t h s can n o t be e a s i l y
revealed, so her humor w i l l be more in te r e s tin g , more challenging,
than Mr. Bennet’s .
When Mr. Bennet d iv e rts h im self w ith "the astonishm ent of the
l a d i e s " he bask s in a male ex em p tio n from th e i s s u e s o f lo v e ,
m a r ria g e , or j u s t th e s im p le h o s p i t a l i t y and f r i e n d l i n e s s which
c a l l upon him to v i s i t Mr. B in g ley . But h i s exem p tio n i s a myth.
Mr. Bennet is deceived about his detachment from what he considers
m e n ia l c o n c e rn s. I t i s n o t j u s t t h a t "he had alw ay s in te n d e d to
v i s i t him ," which shows us Mr. B en n e t's s ta k e in th e t r a d i t i o n a l
form s o f c o u r t s h i p . In a way we s u p p o rt, he i s much l e s s w i l l i n g
th an Mrs. Bennet to f o r g e t th e " d is g r a c e " in L y d ia 's manner o f
g e t t i n g m a rrie d . To h i s own d i s g r a c e th o u g h , Mr. Bennet i s so
r u le d by t r a d i t i o n a l p e r c e p t i o n s t h a t he g iv e s Mr. Darcy h is
c o n s e n t to m arry E liz a b e th even though he b e l i e v e s t h a t she does
not love him, simply because Mr. Darcy "is the kind of man, indeed,
to whom I should never dare refuse any th in g , which he condescended
to ask." (376) Mr. Bennet cannot "dare" to withhold "anything"—
even h is fa v o rite person in the world.
315
His word "condescended" p ro v es Mr. Bennet a much more
c o n v e n tio n a l t h i n k e r th an E l i z a b e th , much l e s s com m itted to
in v e n tin g h i s own s ta n d a r d s th a n sh e , f o r she h e r s e l f n ev er
h e s i t a t e s to r e f u s e Mr. Darcy when she does n o t lo v e him. Mr.
Bennet, w ith a l l h is vaunted disengagement from h is spouse’s plans,
sh o u ld have been c a p a b le o f more. But he p ro v es h i m s e l f q u ite
ordinary, l i t t l e d if f e r e n t in h is a c tio n s, i f not h is in te n tio n s,
from Mrs. Bennet. When we r e - r e a d th e opening in l i g h t o f the
n o v e l i t s t a r t s , we can s e e t h a t i t p l a y s w i t h t h e
u n t r u s t w o r t h i n e s s of what th e t r a d i t i o n a l m ale f i g u r e s o f
u n c o n v e n t i o n a l i t y , in o th e r w ords, s ta n d a rd p a t r i a r c h s , say o f
th e m s e lv e s . Mr. B en n et's r i d i c u l e o f Mrs. Bennet i s th e u s u a l
contempt of the c u ltu re fo r older women, and fo r the whole subject
o f marriage. The p atria rc h y grants to men a double t h r i l l : both
the b e n e fits of marriage and the g r a t i f i c a t i o n of despising them,
of pretending to liv e above them.
In a world w ithout absolute ends and beginnings, or immediate
t r u t h s , we can n o t s t a r t a t one end o f a l i n e and move in c l e a r
s t e p s , e q u a lly sp aced , to r e v e l a t i o n s imposed from o u ts id e . We
c i r c le inward instead. Typical are the g radations by which Austen
introduces E lizabeth Bennet. Her fa th e r f i r s t sin g le s her out from
"our g i r l s , " with "I must throw in a good word f o r my l i t t l e
L izz y ," b u t h e r m other p ro m p tly th ro w s h e r back, "Lizzy i s n o t a
b i t b e t t e r th a n th e o t h e r s , " and i s n o t even " h a l f so handsome as
Ja n e , n o r h a l f so good humoured as Lydia." (4) When Mrs. Bennet
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a c c u s e s Mr. Bennet o f "alw ays g iv in g h e r th e p r e f e r e n c e , Mr.
Bennet's reply separates E lizabeth only s lig h tly . "They have none
ofthem much to recommend them . . . they are a l l s i l l y and ignorant
l i k e o t h e r g i r l s ; b u t L izzy has so m eth in g more o f q u ic k n e ss th an
her s is t e r s ." (5) I t i s not u n t i l we re-read th a t we can know the
s i g n i f i c a n c e or th e danger o f t h a t se e m in g ly s u b t l e d i s t i n c t i o n .
In the meantime, what we have got is a m isogynistic view of young
woemn, w ith one woman p o in te d o u t as a l i t t l e b r i g h t e r than h e r
3 i s t e r s .
W e next see Elizabeth trimming a hat. That is an a c t i v i t y we
would n o rm a lly a s s o c i a t e more w ith C a th e rin e Morland th a n w ith
E l i z a b e th B ennet, b u t i t t u r n s o u t to be a r e p r e s e n t a t i v e d e t a i l .
What Elizabeth wears becomes an issu e sev eral tim es, in ways more
s u s p e c t and l e s s lo v a b le th an th e y had been w ith C a th e r in e .
E lizabeth's muddy p e ttic o a t, flushed cheeks, and eyes brightened by
ex ercise help a t t r a c t Mr. Darcy, and she h e r s e lf , in a M orland-like
maneuver, d resses "with more than her usual care" in order to win
over Mr. Wickham. The hat i t s e l f both connects and d istin g u ish e s
h e r from L ydia, who buys an u gly h a t b ecause th e shop c o n ta in e d
even u g lie r ones, which she re s is te d . Austen lik e s c lo th e s, as her
l e t t e r s show, and does not disparage caring about them. But th a t
i s not the issue here. Her handling o f such d e t a i l s works to draw
us away from thinking of clo th es and conventional looks as c e n tra l
a t t r i b u t e s o f a h e r o i n e 's c h a r a c t e r . Mr. Darcy ju d g e s women by
them , u n t i l he l e a r n s b e t t e r a t H unsford, and h i s co n d escen d in g
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evaluation of women's accomplishments is the r e s u lt. The trimmed
hat begins a l l t h i s , through the ta n ta liz in g deception of seeming
randomness.
When we next hear about Elizabeth she is only one of the "five
daughters" who teases Mr. Bennet for p a r tic u la rs about Mr. Bingley.
W e learn th a t they have a rep u tatio n for beauty, and th a t they a l l
watch for Mr. Bingley from an upper window.
He [Mr. Bingley] had e n te rta in e d hopes of being adm itted
to a s i g h t o f th e young l a d i e s , o f whose b e a u ty he had
heard much; but he saw only the fath er. The la d ie s were
somewhat more f o r t u n a t e , f o r th e y had th e ad v a n ta g e o f
a s c e r t a i n i n g from an upper window, t h a t he wore a blu e
coat and rode a black horse. (9)
This i s funny, and p ro v id e s a r e l a t i v e l y in n o c e n t v e r s io n o f how
p eo p le judge in th e b e g in n in g . The r e a d e r w i l l soon le a r n to
d istin g u ish Mr. Bingley from h is clothes. Meanwhile, th a t method
of perceiving quickly becomes a misleading c lic h e .
Lydia and K itty refuse to in t e r e s t themselves in Mr. C ollins's
f i r s t l e t t e r , because " i t was next to im possible th a t t h e i r cousin
should come in a s c a r l e t coat, and i t was now some weeks since they
had r e c e iv e d p le a s u r e from th e s o c i e t y o f a man in any o th e r
c o lo u r." (64) Here we la u g h , b u t E l i z a b e t h 's c a p t i v a t i o n by
George Wickham's a p p e a ra n c e i n h i s red c o a t i s l e s s funny. But
Lydia, the woman who jumbles clo th es and heedlessness in the note
by which she announces h e r e lo p em en t w ith Mr. Wickham, b r in g s us
f u l l c i r c l e and l e t s us know t h a t t h e r e are some p eo p le who may
a p p ro p riately be perceived by s u p e rf ic ia l d e ta ils . On the morning
318
o f h e r w edding, Lydia t e l l s E l i z a b e th and Ja n e , "I was t h i n k i n g ,
you may suppose, o f my dear Wickham. I longed to know whether he
would be married in h is blue coat." (319) On the day they marry,
Lydia knows Mr. Wickham no more i n t i m a t e l y than Jane knew Mr.
Bingley a t f i r s t s ig h t—even a f t e r liv in g w ith him. The way th a t
A u ste n m akes th e r e a d e r la u g h a l s o m akes us q u e s t i o n th e
sen tim en tal convention th a t Lydia invokes. She knows th a t she i s
supposed to be t h in k in g o f Mr. Wickham. But she i s i g n o r a n t o f
what such thought can be, what tr u ly knowing another person can be.
She, l i k e h e r f a t h e r , l i k e James M orland, Mr. P alm er, Augusta and
P h i l i p E lto n , and th e Musgrove s i s t e r s , has f a l l e n in love w ith
someone's looks.
We do no t see E l i z a b e th i n d i v i d u a l l y a g a in u n t i l she is
mentioned as the reason for Mrs. Bennet's resentm ent of Mr. Darcy.
Our f i r s t im portant contact w ith E lizabeth, and the c e n tra l event
o f th e f i r s t h a l f o f P r id e and P r e j u d i c e , o c c u rs when she i s
i n s u l t e d by Mr. Darcy a t th e b a l l . I t r e v e a l s t h a t " l i v e l y ,
play fu l d isp o sitio n " t h a t w ins th e r e a d e r 's im m ed iate a f f e c t i o n .
But i t o c c u rs b e fo re we have tim e to know E liz a b e th or Mr. Darcy,
and shows the danger o f forming immutable f i r s t im pressions—a l l we
n o tice is E lizabeth's v alo r, not what w ill nurse resentment which,
though not as crude, w i l l be as unforgiving as her mother's. Even
though our a c q u a in ta n c e w ith E liz a b e th begins g radually, we have
n o t a c h ie v e d c l e a r s i g h t a t th e end o f E l i z a b e t h 's i n t r o d u c t i o n .
We w i l l have to r e - i n t e r p r e t E l i z a b e t h 's n a tu r e as l e s s b u o y an t,
319
more d ee p ly h u r t , th a n we f i r s t th o u g h t. We need a sen se o f
A u sten 's b e g in n in g s and our r e l a t i o n to them which i n c lu d e s both
h e r t e c h n i c a l c o n t r o l o f s u b t l e s u g g e s tio n s and u n c e r t a i n t y , and
h e r v a ry in g r e l a t i o n to c h a r a c t e r . Both h e r open in g s and our
re sp o n s e a r e p r o c e s s e s o f making d e c i s io n s and r e v i s i n g them .
Austen's beginnings celeb rate complexity, where irony would merely
have collapsed i t , and reason have ignored i t .
Like Mr. Bennet, S i r W a lte r E l l i o t in P e r s u a s io n r e s o r t s to
h i s f a v o r i t e p a s tim e to c o n s o le h i s v a n ity when w o r r ie s o p p re ss
him , n o t t h a t o f mocking h is spouse (who i s dead) b u t o f a d m irin g
h is own lineage.
S i r W alter E l l i o t , o f K e l l y n c h - h a l l , in S o m e r s e ts h ir e ,
was a man who, f o r h i s own am usem ent, n ev er took up any
book bu t th e B aro n etag e; . . . and t h e r e , i f ev ery o t h e r
le a f were powerless, he could read h is own h is to ry with
an i n t e r e s t th a t never f a i le d —th is was the page a t which
the fav o u rite volume always opened:
'ELLIOT OF KELLYNCH-HALL.' (3)
What he reads i s standard p a tr ia rc h a l h isto ry , the so rt of f ic tio n
which continues to draw women up sh o rt w ith disappointm ent, though
we may t r y to a d j u s t to such s l i g h t s . The B aronetage p u r p o r ts to
d i s c u s s th e " fa m ily ," b u t i t r e a l l y fo c u s e s b l i n d l y on only th e
e ld e s t sons, w ith women pushed to the periphery as " a ll the Marys
and E l i z a b e t h s t h e y had m a r r i e d . " (4) The name " E l l i o t "
s i g n i f i e s , n o t a f a m ily , b u t a p e rso n , sp o u se, and o f f - s p r i n g .
"Family," i t s e l f has degenerated to a tw isted meaning as a man and
h is adjuncts, a lopsidedness which S ir W alter’s pride does nothing
320
to m i t i g a t e . Hi3 own h a n d w r itte n a d d i t i o n s c o n t r i b u t e to th e
d i s p r o p o r t i o n s embedded in the book; o f Mary he has w r i t t e n ,
" m a rrie d , Dec. 16, 1810, to C h a rle s , son and h e i r o f C h a rle s
Musgrove, Esq. o f U p p e rc ro ss, in th e county o f S o m e rse t," (3) and
to th e whole he ad d s, "H eir p r e s u m p tiv e , W illia m W a lte r E l l i o t ,
Esq., g r e a t gran d so n o f th e second S i r W a lte r." (4) At l e a s t as
much a s th e book i t s e l f , does S i r W a lte r c o n c e n t r a t e on men and
th e i r r e la tio n to cu rren t or bygone p a tria rc h s . In a novel where
Anne E l l i o t i s not given a l l the a tte n tio n she deserves, neglecting
her is early linked to the way th a t women liv e unremarked, unseen,
and u n c e le b r a te d in a c u l t u r e o rg a n iz e d around men's im p o rta n c e ,
ignoring women's c o n trib u tio n s.
Austen’s p ic tu re of S ir W alter's en tertainm ent means th a t her
r e a d e r s can n o t f l a t t e r t h e m s e l v e s w i t h f a n t a s i e s t h a t t h e
tr a d it i o n a l version of experience does no damage. There are people
who do more than merely liv e i t —S ir Walter rev e ls in , memorizes,
and even consoles him self w ith i t . Austen e n te rta in s us w ith the
id e a o f a man who can f in d no b e t t e r e n t e r t a i n m e n t th a n h i s own
"history," among a l l the books which t e l l the " h isto rie s" o f other
p e o p le , r e a l and f i c t i o n a l . I n s te a d o f a l l th e works more t r u l y
w o rth " a d m ira tio n and r e s p e c t , " (3) S i r W a lte r chooses one which
w ill lead him f a rth e r in to , not out of, him self.
The f a t h e r s w ith whom we b ein g i n P rid e and P r e ju d ic e and
Persuasion have both chosen r i d i c u l o u s a c t i v i t i e s and i n t e r e s t s ,
w hich, s in c e th ey demand no i n t e l l e c t u a l o r e m o tio n a l movement,
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amount to an i n t e r e s t in no one but themselves. Both fa th e rs have
iso la te d themselves from other people because of a misguided sense
o f t h e i r own s u p e r i o r i t y ; Mr. B e n n e t i s v a i n a b o u t h i s
in te llig e n c e , and S ir Walter about h is beauty and h is blood. Both
n o v e ls begin w ith a t t e m p t s to p e rsu a d e th e f a t h e r to a c t as he
o u g h t, though th e s e r i o u s n e s s o f th e o b l i g a t i o n d i f f e r s . Mr.
Bennet must v i s i t Mr. B ingley and S ir W a lte r must pay h i s
c r e d i t o r s . Mr. B en n et’s o b l i g a t i o n is s o c i a l ; S ir W a lte r 's i s
m on etary ; both a re to t h e i r own honor. But both r e f u s e to be
persuaded, and, what is remarkable, both eventually comply a f t e r
a l l . Unsusceptible to persuasion, and re c o ilin g from cooperation,
Mr. Bennet, who remains open to h is own whims, had planned to w ait
on Mr. Bingley anyway. S ir W alter, lik ew ise deaf to persuasion, is
nevertheless vulnerable to m anipulation, and is maneuvered by h is
agent Mr. Shepherd in to the economical move to Bath.
These s i m i l a r i t i e s are not accid en tal. Persuasion and Pride
and P r e ju d ic e s h a re e x p l i c i t c o n c e rn s, in a way t h a t th e o th e r
n o v e ls do n o t, w ith th e is s u e o f our d i s t a n c e from our own
e x p e rie n c e and from th e o t h e r p eo p le around us. In both n o v e ls ,
c o n n e c tio n and s u s c e p t i b i l i t y a re re n d e re d th ro u g h th e image o f
persuasion. Pride and Prejudice in c lu d e s E liz a b e th and Mr. Darcy
d i s c u s s i n g th e m e r it s o f Mr. B in g le y ’s p e r s u a d a b i l i t y , Mr. Darcy
persuading Mr. Bingley th a t Jane Bennet i s in d iff e r e n t to him, and
Mr. Darcy p e rsu a d in g E l i z a b e th t h a t he i s no t a v i l l a i n . I t a ls o
shows us Elizabeth try in g to persuade her fa th e r not to allow Lydia
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to go to B rig h to n , Mr. D arcy's a t t e m p t to p e rsu a d e Lydia to le a v e
Mr. Wickham in London, Elizabeth and Jane g radually inducing th e ir
fa th e r to receive Lydia a f t e r her m arriage, Lady Catherine try in g
to p re v e n t E l i z a b e th and Mr. Darcy from m a rry in g , and E liz a b e th
convincing both Jane and Mr. Bennet th a t she loves Mr. Darcy, th a t
he tr u ly deserves to marry her.
P e r s u a s io n d i s c l o s e s p e r s u a s io n in a lm o s t ev ery l i n e , n o t
sim p ly in i t s t i t l e . The whole p l o t c e n t e r s around Anne E l l i o t ' s
p a s t a c c e s s io n to Lady R u s s e ll 's p e r s u a s i o n , and F r e d e ric k
W entw orth's p e rs u a d in g Anne, though w o r d l e s s l y , to g e t i n t o th e
C rofts's gig marks h is reviving a ffe c tio n and a lso composes one of
th e most moving moments o f th e n o v e l. The a c t o f p e r s u a s io n
d e m o n s tr a te s a t t e n t i o n , c o n c e rn , and em bodies th e most e x c i t i n g
p a r t o f p e o p l e ' s c o n n e c t i o n t o e a c h o t h e r : i n f l u e n c e .
P ersu ad ab ility between us shows our re c ip ro c a l openness to change.
Both E liz a b e th and F i t z w i l l i a m Darcy change a s a r e s u l t o f t h e i r
lo v e f o r each o t h e r , t h e i r w i l l i n g n e s s to l i s t e n and respond.
Frederick Wentworth does too, by being near Anne E l l i o t , while the
e n t i r e p o r t r a y a l o f Anne h e r s e l f e x p r e s s e s A u sten 's sen se o f th e
beauty of p ersu ad ab ility .
Anne E l l i o t i s A u s t e n 's m o st a t t a c h e d , m o st f l e x i b l e
p ro ta g o n ist, who rep re se n ts our p a r tic ip a tio n a t i t s b e st, because
she can be p e rsu a d e d . Anne does n o t change m o ra lly , a s E liz a b e th
Bennet, Mr. Darcy, and Captain Wentworth do, but in stead a l t e r s in
c o n t i n u a l im a g in a tiv e ways. N e ith e r i s she a t th e mercy o f th e
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m anipulation which v ic tim iz e s o t h e r s , f o r i t o p e r a te s on v a n i t y ,
w h ile p e r s u a s io n u rg e s th ro u g h lo v e . In t h a t o f c o u rse l i e s th e
d ifferen ce between E lizab eth ’s attachm ent to Mr. Wickham and to Mr.
Darcy. The b e g in n in g s to P rid e and P r e ju d ic e and P e rs u a s io n
e s ta b lis h our need for persuasion, for they show not only i t s power
for joy but also how ugly our liv e s become w ithout i t .
At stake i s what i s worth involvement. The question raised by
th e Bennet and E l l i o t f a t h e r s ' s p o r t s , and th e i s o l a t i o n th ey
e n f o r c e , i s w h e t h e r o u r l i v e s w i l l be i n t e r e s t i n g i f we
e n t h u s i a s t i c a l l y in v o lv e o u r s e lv e s in them. The f a t h e r s do no t
th in k so; t h a t i s why Mr. Bennet r e t r e a t s to h i s l i b r a r y , and S i r
Walter to his own h e rita g e and comeliness. Anne E l l i o t is sp e c ia l |
because she f in d s e x c i t i n g and moving t h a t c o n n e c tio n to o t h e r
people which we a l l share. But the beginnings show how her fa th e r |
and E liz a b e th B en n et’s d i s t a n c e th e m s e lv e s from such t i e s . In
th e s e n o v e ls , v a n ity i s lin k e d to a f a l s e r e m o te n e s s , w h ile
p e r s u a s io n s p r in g s from f e l t a t t a c h m e n ts . For A usten, our
p a r tic ip a tio n in r e la tio n s of re c ip ro c a l influence w ill always be
involvingly i n t e r e s t i n g .
Consideration of entertain m en t leads n a tu ra lly to a discussion
o f a r t and im a g in a tio n . In P e r s u a s io n th e r e a d e r may n o t i c e th e
c o n n e c tio n more c l e a r l y , f o r S i r W a lte r ’s p le a s u r e i s found in a
p e c u l i a r form o f h i s t o r y o r f i c t i o n , th e B a ro n e ta g e , in which he
even w rite s him self. Mr. Bennet’s fa v o rite a r t , on the oth er hand,
n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g a l l th e books i n h i s l i b r a r y , i s h i s own s a t i r e .
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Both S i r W a lte r 's " a r t i s t i c ” i n t e r e s t in s e l f - a b s o r p t i o n and Mr.
Bennet's in his iro n ic , but not very w itty , lau g h ter, are modes of
im a g in a tio n which red u ce e x p e r ie n c e . In p r o o f, we r e c e iv e our
f i r s t skewed p ic tu re s of both leading characters from the fa th e rs'
r e d u c t i v e i m a g i n a t i o n s . " L i t t l e L izzy" (4) i s h a r d ly an a p t
d e sc rip tio n of E lizabeth Bennet, even though i t s a ffe c tio n redeems
Mr. Bennet to some e x te n t, while S ir W alter's ch u rlish a p p ra isa l of
h i s d a u g h te r a s "only Anne," (5) th o ro u g h ly e s t a b l i s h e s h is
h e a r t l e s s n e s s . Toward t h e i r ends both n o v e ls a l s o p r e s e n t each
f a t h e r 's p e r c e p tio n o f th e p r o t a g o n i s t s ' tru e loves, incorporated
in to th e i r fa v o rite a r ts .
Mr. Bennet la u g h s s a t i r i c a l l y t h a t , "I ad m ire a l l my th r e e
s o n s - i n - l a w h ig h ly . . . Wickham, p e rh a p s , i s my f a v o u r i t e ; b u t I
th in k I s h a l l l i k e your husband [Mr. D arcy] q u ite as w e ll as
J a n e 's ." (379) Less s e l f - a w a r e , S i r W a lte r lo o k s fo rw ard to
Anne' s marriage in th is way,
when he saw more of Captain Wentworth, saw him repeatedly
by day lig h t and eyed him w ell, he was very much struck by
h i s p e r s o n a l c l a i m s , and f e l t t h a t h is s u p e r i o r i t y o f
ap p e a ra n c e m ig h t be n o t u n f a i r l y b a la n c e d a g a i n s t h e r
s u p e rio rity of rank; and a l l t h i s , a s s is te d by h is w e ll-
sounding name, enabled S ir W alter a t l a s t to prepare h is
pen w ith a v ery good g ra c e f o r th e i n s e r t i o n o f th e
marriage in the volume of honour. (248-9)
An i n d i v i d u a l form o f a r t , to be s u re . At l e a s t th e r e a d e r knows
t h a t Mr. Bennet i s jo k in g , and we do laugh w ith him , bu t we a l s o
want him to use h i s humor in b e t t e r ways, to make d i s t i n c t i o n s
i n s t e a d o f b l u r r i n g them o v er in a t t e m p t s to m a in ta in h i s own
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remoteness. He should be able to d istin g u is h between Mr. Darcy and
Mr. B in g le y , and to see them and E l i z a b e th and Ja n e , as more th an
husbands of daughters. He should use h is w it, crack h is jokes, as
a means to see and understand what m ysteries e n c irc le him, j u s t as
A u sten ’s n o v e ls e n q u ire and s u rm is e w ith t h e i r a r t . I n s t e a d , Mr.
Bennet tr e a t s everything as i f i t were already knownj as a r e s u l t ,
he makes t e r r i b l e m istakes. He wants to smudge d iffe re n c e s, ignore
s u b tl e t i e s , confuse his own g lib assurance with r ig h t perception,
and s a c r i f i c e th e p a in s and d e l i g h t s o f r e - i n t e r p r e t a t i o n f o r
g lassy f i r s t im pressions.
B ut, d e c e iv e d as Mr. Bennet i s ab o u t h i m s e l f , S i r W alter
E l l i o t ’s ig n o ra n c e o f h i m s e l f and th e l i m i t s o f h i s v i s i o n i s y e t
worse, and consequently, perhaps, le s s dangerous. Neither fa th e r
can see beyond h is own form ulations to the v a rie ty beyond, the n o t-
s im p le q u a l i t i e s which r e a l l y m a t t e r in Mr. Darcy and C a p ta in
W entw orth. In A usten’s n o v e ls , how we have fu n , how we use our
i m a g i n a t i o n s , how we e n t e r t a i n o u r s e lv e s w ith what we see and
remember, are c ru c ia l. Her beginnings to Pride and Prejudice and
Persuasion make us recep tiv e to the moving involvement o f Elizabeth
Bennet and Anne E l l i o t . We q u e s tio n why Mr. Bennet e n t e r t a i n s
him self w ith such feeble w it, and why S ir W alter can find no b e tte r
amusement than the Baronetage and h is own bloo d -lin es. Austen does
n o t ask us to wonder ab o u t such d ra m a tiz e d d isen g a g em en t in any
oth er beginnings. The opening p ic tu re s of h e a rtle ssn e ss give added
poignancy to l a t e r f e e l i n g . We need to see t h a t th e a l t e r e d tone
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of the second h a lf of Pride and P rejudice, when E lizabeth learn s to
love Mr. Darcy, which some readers have found so disappointing, has
a lo v e ly s i m i l a r i t y to th e whole o f P e rs u a s io n w ith i t s a r d e n t
questioning and committed hopes.
I f d i s t a n c e i s th e i s s u e , t h e n how we p a r t i c i p a t e i s
im portant. That i s why manners m atter in both novels, fo r they are
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our method of communicating with our neighbors. But in Pride and
Prejudice and Persuasion, the p ro ta g o n ists' manners are not so much
the issue as E linor Dashwood's were, but instead the beloved men's
a r e . We q u e s tio n now th e mode o f a c t i o n , n o t o f th e p erso n
h e r s e l f , b u t o f th e one she lo v e s and g r a d u a l l y knows. Both
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F r e d e r ic k W entw orth's and F i t z w i l l i a m D arcy's manners become
e x p l i c i t l y i m p o r t a n t , w h ile m isguided c h a r a c t e r s b e l i t t l e th e
openheartedness of Captain Wentworth and the reserve of Mr. Darcy.
Lady R u s s e ll p r e f e r s Mr. E l l i o t ' s smooth b la n d n e ss to C ap tain
Wentworth's liv e lin e s s , and E lizabeth Bennet enjoys Mr. Wickham's
s lic k c h a ttin e ss while she avoids Mr. Darcy's mystery.
P e rs u a s io n and P r id e and P r e ju d ic e a r e u n ite d n o t only by
b e g in n in g s p i c t u r i n g th e f a t h e r 's f a l s e d e ta c h m e n t, b u t a ls o by
p l o t s e m p h a siz in g th e c o n tin u in g problem o f how to c o n s tr u e th e
leading man's manners and meaning. These two novels are a lso the
only ones where the leading man disparages the p ro ta g o n ist's beauty
e a r l y in th e a c t i o n . C a p ta in W entworth and Mr. Darcy l e a r n t h a t
l o v e l i n e s s l i e s n o t j u s t i n a e s t h e t i c s , b u t i n p e r c e i v e d
e x p r e s s io n , a consequence o f tim e and a d eep en in g a c q u a in ta n c e .
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P rid e and P r e ju d ic e an d P e r s u a s i o n a r e m oving b e c a u s e t h e
te n ta tiv e , astonished process by which the leading ch a ra c te r fe e ls
h e r s e lf attended to by the beloved man, blossoms beyond the narrow
im a g in a tiv e l i n e s l a i d o u t by th e f a t h e r ’s e a r l y u g l i n e s s . The
d e f o r m ity , c o n c e i t , and f r i g i d i t y o f Mr. Bennet and S i r W a lte r
E l l i o t make us long for the changes by which Austen transform s her
artw ork, and her fu tu re manipulation of our time.
P r id e and P r e j u d i c e ’s opening a p h o rism , " I t i s a t r u t h
u n iv e rsa lly acknowledged, th a t a sin g le man in possession o f a good
f o r t u n e , must be in want o f a w if e ," i s a t e l l i n g a n t i c i p a t i o n o f
the s im ila r ly a iry sense of humor which opens Mansfield Park; i t
s p o r t s th e same a s s u m p tio n s , c o l l a p s e d . For, y e s, a s i n g l e man,
whatever h is fortune, i s "in want of," th a t i s , "without" a spouse.
That i s why i t can be u n i v e r s a l l y acknow ledged, f o r d i f f e r e n t
p eo p le may c o n s tr u e i t to mean d i f f e r e n t th i n g s . To Mrs. B ennet,
i t means th a t Mr. Bingley is "the property" o f Jane. To fe m in ists
i t may show th e p r e s s u r e on women to m arry , t h a t any s i n g l e man
w ith money i s seen as such a ta rg e t. I t can a lso show us how easy
many things are made for men. Not only are they given most of the
money, b u t because o f i t th e y can e x p e rie n c e love as a l e s s
c o n flic te d fe e lin g , w ith fewer doubts and pressures. In the system
as i t i s " u n i v e r s a l l y ack now ledged," men choose and women w a it.
But t h e s e a r e i n s i g h t s t h a t s p r in g from q u e s tio n in g th e c u l t u r e
which ru le s through such tru ism s, not the aphorism i t s e l f . By the
tim e we re-read the beginning, we should know th a t fo r Austen there
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a re few fix e d t r u t h s , and th e ones which do e x i s t , tu r n o u t, l i k e
th is one, not to be very notable. W e must begin to fe e l and invent
our own c o n n e c tio n s , n o t f i x a p h o rism s. That i s th e f i r s t s te p
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toward change—even a p o l i t i c a l change. One way to do th a t is by a
laughter which asks questions.
A usten's b e g in n in g s to a l l o f h e r n o v e ls , by p o r tr a y i n g th e
i m a g in a tiv e p o v e rty o f an atm o sp h ere devoid o f h e r le a d in g
ch a ra c te rs, a t le a s t as we w ill come to know them, make us long for
them unconsciously, or a t l e a s t fe e l eager fo r them as they begin
to ap p e a r. Each b e g in n in g p r e p a re s our r e c e p t i v e n e s s to th e
p a r tic u la r im aginative movement which i t s p ro ta g o n ist embodies. At
the same time, Austen also concocts images w ith those em otionally
u n in h a b ite d o p en in g s which h e lp us u n d e rs ta n d th e im a g in a tiv e
r e v o l u t i o n s th ro u g h which h e r p ro ta g o n is ts w ill experience th e ir
l i v e s ; we w i l l d i s c e r n a p t l y th e m is ta k e s o f mind t h a t E liz a b e th
B ennet, C a th e rin e M orland, and Emma Woodhouse w i l l need to
acknow ledge and a l t e r , a s w e ll as th e d i f f i c u l t i e s o f s i t u a t i o n
with which Anne E l l i o t , Elinor Dashwood, and Fanny P rice w ill have
to cope.
Mr. B en n et's sa rc a sm e n d e a rs E liz a b e th 's enthusiasm, and S ir
W a lte r 's narrow i n a n i t y o f mind l i g h t s Anne E l l i o t ' s e v e r more
c o m p lic a te d , a lw a y s more c r e a t i v e memory and im a g in a tio n . Mr.
Bennet shows us how to read E lizabeth's rev o lu tio n s of perception,
w h ile th e s e l f i s h c o n c e i t o f S i r W alter r e n d e r s what Anne's
a f fe c tio n a te p e rsu a d a b ility t r a n s c e n d s . The f a m ily h i s t o r i e s o f
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Mansfield Park and Sense and S e n s ib ility prepare us to care about
our main c h a r a c t e r ’s lo n e ly s t r u g g l e s ; we l e a r n to v a lu e th e
p s y c h o lo g ic a l home Fanny P r ic e c r e a t e s f o r h e r s e l f , and th e
g e n e r o s i t y o f E lin o r Dashwood's p o l i t e n e s s . In th e S is te rh o o d
books, the s u p e rf ic ia l look a t the leading characters w ith which we
begin helps us enjoy our b e tte r, deeper r e la tio n to them l a t e r , and
r e j o i c e in th e c o n n e c tio n s th e y dev elo p to o t h e r women, and th e
le a d in g men as w e ll. A u sten 's p la y w ith C a th e rin e Morland as
h ero in e -m a te ria l p resents an opening a n ti-c lim a x which enhances our
a ffe c tio n for Catherine's own goodness of h e a rt, and the worth of
how she le a rn s to care fo r other people more consciously. F in ally ,
Emma Woodhouse's i n i t i a l p o l i s h e d , u n im p re s s io n a b le s u r f a c e
in t e n s i f i e s our pleasure in her l a t e r engaged adventures. Austen's
beginnings ask us to wonder about the p o s s i b i l i t i e s fo r character
and f o r our l i v e s , e s p e c i a l l y f o r women's c h a r a c t e r s and women's
l i v e s in s p i t e o f th e s t e r i l e c o n f i g u r a t i o n s o f th e p a t r i a r c h y .
They ask us to question and to see anew. And, I think, we do.
P rid e and P r e ju d ic e and P e r s u a s io n a re th e two o f A usten's
novels which, by v irtu e of t h e i r beginnings, I w i l l r e f e r to as the
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P a t r i a r c h y n o v e ls . In them Austen shows how th e c u l t u r e ,
represented by i t s fa th e rs , i s not in te re s te d in women, rendered as
t h e i r daughters. Both fa m ilie s have e s ta te s which w ill go to male
cousins because th ere are no sons in the fam ily. Elizabeth E llio t
hopes to m arry " b a ro n e t-b lo o d " (7) b e c a u se , as a fe m a le h e i r , she
cannot hope to become b a r o n e t h e r s e l f , w hich, a s th e e l d e s t o f f -
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spring, she would i f she were male. The Bennet women are injured
by t h e i r f a t h e r ’s l a c k a d a i s i c a l r e f u s a l to save money to p ro v id e
fo r them, as Mr. Henry Dashwood would anxiously have saved fo r h is
f a m ily . Mr. B en n et's a t t i t u d e i s m atched by S i r W a lte r E l l i o t ’s
concern for h is own g r a t if i c a t i o n s ra th e r than fo r the w elfare of
E liz a b e th and Anne E l l i o t . Mr. Bennet n e g l e c t s to econom ize
b ecau se ’’o f c o u rse th e y were to have a s o n ,’’ who "was to j o i n in
c u ttin g o ff the e n ta il." (308) This is a dubious hope, as we have
seen in Sense and S e n s ib ility and M a n sfie ld Park. B ro th e rs l i k e
John Dashwood and Tom Bertram too often enjoy b en efitin g from the
c u ltu re ’s misogyny, believing t h e i r wealth j u s t i f i e d by the innate
nature of th ings, w hile th e i r s i s t e r s ', or even b ro th e rs', r e l a t iv e
p o v e rty c o n c e rn s them v e ry l i t t l e . S i r W a lte r, l i k e Mr. B ennet,
spends a l l h i s own money; b u t he a l s o , in h i s even g r e a t e r s e l f -
in d u lg e n c e , th ro u g h h i s a r r o g a n t n o tio n s o f what e le g a n c e s and
l u x u r i e s a r e due to him i n h i s p o s i t i o n a s b a r o n e t , g e t s
c o n s id e r a b ly i n t o d e b t. He dam ages, in o t h e r w ords, n o t on ly h i s
own ch ild ren , but various tradespeople as w ell. In the P atriarchy
n o v e ls , th e s e l f i s h n e s s o f th e b r o t h e r s in th e F am ily H e rita g e
n o v e ls i s tra n s fo rm e d i n t o an a s p e c t o f th e f a t h e r s who b e n e f i t
from t h i s c u ltu re , and who most c o n s tr ic t the p o s s i b i l i t i e s o f the
women who are t h e i r daughters.
Austen shows how l i t t l e many fa th e rs may care fo r t h e i r female
o f f s p r i n g th ro u g h th e m a t t e r o f money and i n h e r i t a n c e . But she
a l s o p i c t u r e s i t th ro u g h th e i s s u e o f how th e s e men th in k o f th e
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younger women, and how deprived of a tte n tio n and recognition the
women f e e l . In bo th th e P a t r i a r c h y n o v e ls , women s t r u g g l e w ith
questions of how to seem valid in s p ite o f t r a d it i o n a l in a tte n tio n
X
to women. E l i z a b e th B ennet, in o r d e r to escap e th e knowledge o f
how the c u ltu re sees her as j u s t another beauty c o n te sta n t in the
c o m p e titio n f o r men's a t t e n t i o n , has c u l t i v a t e d th e s o r t o f
" p h ilo s o p h ic " d ise n g a g e m e n t which has m arred h e r f a t h e r ’s l i f e .
She wants to be seen as beyond the usual v u l n e r a b i li t i e s of women.
Elizabeth's aim i s understandable, but her means only surrenders to
t r a d i t i o n a l power s t r u c t u r e s . In t r y i n g to escap e th e c u l t u r e 's
la b e ls, Elizabeth also reneges on any involvement in her own l i f e .
But Austen shows th a t the way to f ig h t the p a tria rc h y 's s lig h ts and
h o s t i l i t y i s n o t f o r women to become l e s s th a n we a r e , bu t to
X
become more in te n se ly ourselves.
The w o rst th in g t h a t co u ld happen to E l i z a b e th i s to be
re je c te d as an u n a ttra c tiv e female, as Mr. Darcy r e j e c t s her. That
is why her anim osity i s so unassuageable, though Mr. Darcy assumes
t h a t he has only to speak to h e r l a t e r to a p p ease h e r. E liz a b e th
l e a r n s t h a t by t r y i n g to r i s e above such v u l n e r a b i l i t y , she may
gain the a b i l i t y to make fun of Mr. Darcy in re tu rn , but she cannot
/
do away w ith h e r own a c t u a l v u l n e r a b i l i t y in a f e m a le - h a tin g
c u l t u r e . She can n e v e r be a c c e p te d as a "sage." That i s what she
wants, but her supposed detachment does not free her from r i s k —i t
only exposes her to the g r e a te s t r is k of a l l , being d a llie d w ith by
George Wickham, th e u l t i m a t e c l i c h e o f w om an-hating. As th e
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fo rtune-hunter and the unscrupulous seducer, Mr. Wickham rep resen ts
the worst of male a ttitu d e s toward women, men who think of women as
o b j e c t s f o r t h e i r u se . Mr. Darcy i s o b l i v i o u s to E l i z a b e t h 's
humanity a t the b a ll where they f i r s t see each other. He thinks of
/
her only as a female who would be given consequence by h is lo rd ly ,
male prerogative to dance w ith her, as one of the "young la d ie s who
a r e s l i g h t e d by o th e r men." (12) His sexism o f te r m in o lo g y , th e
s ta n d a rd o p p o s itio n betw een "young la d ie s" and "men," is exceeded
only by how he takes advantage o f the in v u ln e ra b ility granted him
by p a t r i a r c h a l c u sto m , to snub a woman. We l e a r n l a t e r t h a t Mr.
Darcy, l i k e h i s s i s t e r G eo rg ian a, does have t r o u b l e m e e tin g new
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p e o p le , bu t in th e b e g in n in g he u se s m is o g y n is t means to p r o t e c t
him self.
Mary Bennet resp o n d s to h e r f a t h e r 's la c k o f i n t e r e s t in h e r
by t r y i n g to escap e bein g typed a s a fe m a le a l t o g e t h e r ; she f e e l s
s u p e r i o r to " t h e g e n e r a l i t y o f f e m a l e m in d s ," and " s h o u l d
i n f i n i t e l y p r e f e r a book." (223) A p i c t u r e o f H e ilb ru n 's "m ale-
i d e n t i f i e d " t o k e n woman, Mary r e s o r t s to p e d a n t r y and
accomplishment on tr a d it i o n a l term s, and i s "always im p atien t for
d is p la y ." (25) In o t h e r w ords, h e r d e s i r e f o r a t t e n t i o n i s as
g r e a t as Lydia and K i t t y B en n e t's "rage f o r a d m ir a tio n ." (231)
L y d ia 's i d e a l i s male a t t e n t i o n and a p p ro v a l, though sh e , u n lik e
E lizabeth, does not want i t as a " ra tio n a l c re a tu re ," (109) but as
an o b j e c t o f b e a u ty ; she "saw h e r s e l f th e o b j e c t o f a t t e n t i o n , to
te n s and to s c o r e s o f [ o f f i c e r s ] . . . she saw h e r s e l f . . .
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t e n d e r l y f l i r t i n g w ith a t l e a s t s ix o f f i c e r s a t once." (232)
E lizabeth E l l i o t , for a l l her p rid e , seeks approval by f u l f i l l i n g
th e same s ta n d a r d s . She a t t r a c t s h e r f a t h e r 's a p p ro v a l by being
b e a u tifu l. But among oth er men, only courtship by "baronet-blood"
w i l l p le a s e h e r , which p u ts h e r c o m p le te ly a t th e mercy o f Mr.
E l l i o t ' s m an eu v e rin g s, s in c e he i s th e only f u t u r e b a r o n e t she
knows. Mary Musgrove a d ju sts in much the same way th a t K itty and
Mrs. Bennet had. All become " fr e tf u l" in some form. Mary uses her
h e a l t h to o to draw th e co n cern o f an u n c a rin g w o rld , t r y i n g
unsuccessfully to i n t e r e s t her fa th e r and her husband.
But A u s t e n 's n o v e l s do r e p r e s e n t an a l t e r n a t i v e t o
f r e t f u l n e s s . E l i z a b e th Bennet l e a r n s an in v o lv e m e n t in h e r l i f e
which re s e m b le s both h e r s i s t e r J a n e 's and Anne E l l i o t ' s . Both
r e a l i z e t h a t th e y a r e v u l n e r a b l e , b u t can do n o th in g to make th e
c u l t u r e u n i v e r s a l l y r e c o g n i z e t h e i r i m p o r t a n c e a s men a r e
recognized. So instead they care about things anyway, and do t h e i r
b est to help. Elizabeth t r i e s to convince her f a th e r not to allow
Lydia to go to B rig h to n . Anne m e d ia te s among a l l th e o th e r
c h a r a c t e r s in h e r n o v e l. E l i z a b e th , w ith Ja n e , t r i e s to h elp th e
fam ily cope w ith the c r i s i s of Lydia’s elopement. Anne is the only
person who can thin k and a c t when Louisa Musgrove in ju re s h e r s e lf
on the Cobb a t Lyme.
The two P atriarch y novels are also u n ified by an i n t e r e s t in
what happens when women can speak su ccessfu lly . In both Pride and
P r e ju d ic e and P e r s u a s io n , th e p r o t a g o n i s t s a re a b le to speak
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b r i l l i a n t l y a t the end of th e i r novels, speeches which when to ld to
or o v erh eard by th e le a d in g men, h a s te n th e happy denouem ents o f
both novels. As we have seen, both Elinor Dashwood and Fanny Price
speak wonderfully in places where they defend themselves against
a t t a c k . T h e irs i s elo q u en ce which resp o n d s to e m e rg e n c ie s. But
Elizabeth Bennet and Anne E llio t are given superb, not offensive,
b u t f a r - r e a c h i n g id e a s t h a t , beyond even d e fe n d in g women from
a tta c k , claim new areas as women’s issu es. I re fe r to E lizab eth ’s
conversation w ith Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and Anne's w ith Captain
H arv ille .
E lizabeth, i t is tru e , i s under a tta c k by Lady Catherine. But
she resp o n d s so f o r c e f u l l y , i s so r e s o l u t e l y s u re ab o u t th e
i n v a l i d i t y o f Lady C a th e r in e 's a c c u s a t i o n s , so s tr o n g in h er
r e f u s a l t o , in th e te rm s o f M a n sfie ld P ark, ta k e in th e a t t a c k
before she discards i t , so p o sitiv e th a t Lady Catherine's arguments
a r e " f r i v o l o u s , ” (357) t h a t h e r words do n o t read l i k e s e l f -
d e fe n se . Her r e p l i e s sound more l i k e a b r i l l i a n t o r a t o r y on the
r ig h ts of women not to be e ith e r d u tif u l or governed by what others
think, than lik e a response to an a tta c k , except th a t the response
i s so e x c e p t i o n a l l y s tr o n g a s to make i t a l l th e more a d m ira b le .
I t i s what we loved ab o u t E liz a b e th when she r e fu s e d to be
f r i g h t e n e d by Mr. Darcy, even though she was wrong ab o u t h i s
i n t e n t i o n s . E liz a b e th a s s e r t s h e r r i g h t n o t to be q u e s tio n e d ,
repeatedly commenting on Lady C a th e r in e 's b e h a v io r and s i t u a t i o n
r a t h e r th an a llo w h e r s e l f to be drawn i n t o d is c u s s in g h e r own
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f e e l i n g s o r aim s. She t r e a t s as an ’’i n s u l t ” th e a c c u s a t i o n s Lady
Catherine makes about her fam ily, breaking the ru le s which say th a t
these issu es are f a c t and may be discussed w ithout in s u lt. That i s
what Lady C a th e rin e t h i n k s , t h a t she i s sa y in g no more than th e
tru th . Elizabeth responds, not by adm itting th a t she i s r ig h t, but
by saying, ’’You have in su lte d me, in every p o ssib le method.” (357)
She a s s e r t s t h a t , ’’W hatever my c o n n e c tio n s may be, . . . i f your
nephew does not o b ject to them, they can be nothing to you.” (356)
Elizabeth does not defend h e rs e lf by t e l l i n g her r e a l reasons
f o r r e f u s i n g to p ro m ise n o t to become engaged to Mr. Darcy, t h a t
she loves him but i s not sure i f he s t i l l loves her. She responds
on a n o th e r ground. ’’Your la d y s h ip w ants Mr. Darcy to m arry your
d a u g h te r; b u t would my g iv in g you th e w is h e d - f o r p ro m is e , make
th e i r marriage a t a l l more probable?” (357) Elizabeth a s s e r ts her
r i g h t , a r i g h t custom does n o t g r a n t women, to do what she w an ts
w ith o u t r e g a rd in g p eo p le she does n o t c a re a b o u t, "I am only
r e s o lv e d t o a c t in t h a t m anner, which w i l l , in my own o p in io n ,
c o n s titu te my happiness, w ithout reference to you, or to any person
so w ho lly unco n n ected to me.” (358) P rid e and P r e ju d ic e i s n o t
propounding E l i z a b e t h ’s co m p lete freedom a s an i n d i v i d u a l , as
opposed to a conform ity to society. Elizabeth i s not a s se rtin g her
r ig h t to p e rfe c t freedom. Rather, Austen l e t s E lizabeth stake out
h e r r i g h t n o t to c o n s u l t o u ts id e norm s, or o t h e r p e o p le 's w is h e s,
b e fo re th e w ish es o f h e r own h e a r t . There i s no g u a ra n te e t h a t
E l i z a b e t h ’s l i f e w i l l t h e r e a f t e r be happy; E l i z a b e th h e r s e l f
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re a liz e s th a t. But she i s s e ttin g out a firm ness of s e l f to which
Austen shows women a re e n t i t l e d ; s e p a r a t e from perm anence, t h i s
firm ness does not mean an irrev o cab le permanence of h eart. But i t
i s o p p o s ite o f Fanny P r i c e ’s c o n tin u a l fe e lin g s of unentitlem ent.
T his no v el h e lp s us r e j o i c e a t a woman's doing what th e c u l t u r e
deplores: claiming the r ig h t to fe e l e n title d to th in g s.
E lizabeth claim s s t r e n g t h , f e a r l e s s n e s s , indep en d en ce. She
need no t be " j u s t i f i e d ” in th e t h i n g s she w ants to d e s i r e and
d e s e rv e them . E liz a b e th i s s t r o n g l y a s s e r t i n g t h a t she need n o t
consult o th ers' needs before her own, th a t she need not e n te r into
sympathy fo r Lady C atherine's p o sitio n , though she may comment on
the *'pitiable”ness of i t (356) in order to avoid c a p itu la tin g , w ith j
th e u s u a l, "Yes, you a r e n o t used to d is a p p o in tm e n t, t h e r e f o r e I
can n o t d i s a p p o i n t you." E l i z a b e th s t i c k s up f o r h e r r i g h t t o ^
p r o t e c t h e r own b o u n d a r ie s , to run h e r own l i f e , away from Lady
C a th e r in e 's o f f i c i o u s i n t e r f e r e n c e , t h a t i n t e r f e r e n c e which
resembles strongly the standard meddling which women are taught to
brook from o u t s i d e r s . E l i z a b e th pushes away Lady C a th e r in e 's
invasion by saying to her what she may never have been to ld before,
"How f a r your nephew m ight approve o f yo u r i n t e r f e r e n c e in h i s
a f f a i r s , I cannot t e l l ; but you have c e rta in ly no r ig h t to concern
y o u rself in mine. I must beg, th e re fo re , to be importuned no more
on the subject." (357) E lizab eth 's r h e to ric , her use of the term
"importuned," transform s Lady Catherine's th re a ts in to pleas.
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Anne E l l i o t ' s moment o f b r i l l i a n t speech comes when she
defends not only h e r s e lf but other women. She claim s women's r ig h t
to be re c o g n iz e d s e p a r a t e l y from c u sto m ary p i c t u r e s o f and
form ulations fo r us. But she also claim s the r ig h t to sympathize
w ith men, n o t to be pushed i n t o a h o s t i l e o r e m b a ttle d p o s i t i o n
a g a i n s t men. Anne i n s i s t s on b ein g a llo w e d to c r e d i t women w ith
what th ey seem a b le to do t h a t men seem n o t to be c a p a b le o f ,
w ithout being in te rp re te d as hating, or even undervaluing men. She
a l s o c la im s th e p r e r o g a t i v e n o t to be fo rc e d to c o n v in ce C ap tain
H arv ille, fo r she is able to allow th a t they
n e v e r can e x p e c t to prove any th in g upon such a p o in t.
I t i s a d i f f e r e n c e o f o p in io n which does n o t a d m it o f
proof. W e each begin probably w ith a l i t t l e b ias towards
our own se x , and upon t h a t b u ild ev ery c ir c u m s ta n c e in
fa v o u r o f i t which has o c c u rre d w i t h i n our own c i r c l e .
(234)
She shows th a t the examples which " strik e us the most" are u sually
th o s e which "can n o t be b ro u g h t fo rw a rd w ith o u t b e tr a y in g a
c o n fid e n c e , o r in some r e s p e c t sa y in g what sh o u ld n o t be s a id ,"
l i k e d i s c u s s in g h e r own s u f f e r i n g . In o t h e r w ords, though, Anne
l e t s Captain H arv ille know th a t th is is something about which she
f e e l s v ery s t r o n g l y , b u t t h a t she s t i l l l i k e s him , t h a t she does
not want to do him i n ju s tic e , and th a t i t is a l l r ig h t th a t nothing
ever be proved for sure.
To p u t i t a n o th e r way, Anne E l l i o t ta k e s th e f a l s e se x u a l
t i t i l l a t i o n o u t o f t h i s d e b a te ; she rem oves th e " b a t t l e o f th e
sexes" element from her approach to gender d ifferen ce. Anne leaves
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the general question of d ifferen ce open, but the issue of how women
are represented in a p a tria rch y has been quite firm ly e sta b lish ed .
Austen has l e f t u n c h a lle n g e d th e a s s e r t i o n t h a t th e p a t r i a r c h y ’s
p o r t r a y a l s o f women a re u n f a i r and m a le - b ia s e d , c r e a t i o n s which
show women a s d i s a p p o i n t i n g o b j e c t s o f m ale d e s i r e s i n s t e a d o f
p eo p le s t r u g g l i n g w ith o u r own l i v e s and d e s i r e s . Anne a c h ie v e s
something which feminism today has recen tly reached, the a b i l i t y to
d istin g u is h between the h o s t i l i t y of a m ale-ruled cu ltu re and the
p o s s i b i l i t i e s o f i n d i v i d u a l men. W ithout b lam ing e i t h e r men or
women, Anne lo cates re s p o n s ib ility fo r in eq u ity where i t belongs,
in the s tru c tu re of the c i v i l i z a t i o n , where, because men more than
women have been educated, ’’the pen has been in t h e i r hands." (234)
She lo c a te s i t in how women s u ffe r more from sorrows because "We
liv e a t home, q u iet, confined," where "our fe e lin g s prey upon us,"
whereas men "are forced on exertion" which soon helps them think of
oth er things. (232) Anne E l l i o t is able to defend her gender and
h e r s e lf , to make a frie n d ly man understand th a t things do not seem
f a i r to women, and y e t r e t a i n a l o v e ly f r i e n d s h i p w ith a k in d ly
person. She a lso im plies th a t she has kept loving when a l l hope is
gone, and h e r t r u e lo v e , l i k e E l i z a b e th B e n n e t's, h e a r s h e r and
re sp o n d s. Anne has n o t been made b i t t e r by u n f a i r n e s s and
h o s t i l i t y . What Anne a s s e r ts is not innate gender d iffe re n c e , but
lik en ess in fe e lin g and d iffe re n c e in fa te in a p atria rch y .
The e s s e n t i a l fem inism o f th e two P a t r i a r c h y n o v e ls l i e s in
how Austen demands th a t men reform before they become worthy of her
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p ro ta g o n is ts ’ love. Caroline Bingley and Louisa Musgrove, as w ell
perhaps as Anne de Bourgh and H enrietta Musgrove, would accept the
le a d in g men, F i t z w i l l i a m Darcy and F r e d e r ic k W entw orth, a s th ey
a r e , s e x i s t — p r a c t i c a l l y m is o g y n i s t — and proud o f bein g so. Mr.
Darcy, l i k e Henry C raw ford, t h i n k s he i s such a good ’’c a tc h " t h a t
he has o nly to speak to E l i z a b e th f o r h e r to be fo rm in g m a r i t a l
designs on him. Elizabeth teaches him, as he says toward the end,
"how in s u f f ic ie n t were a l l my pretensions to please a woman worthy
o f bein g p le a s e d ." (369) He l e a r n s t h a t love needs to be
r e c ip ro c a l—not ju s t a man choosing from a bevy of b e a u tifu l women.
From im a g in in g t h a t he i s doing E liz a b e th a f a v o r by s to o p in g to
th e ’’d e g r a d a tio n " o f m a rry in g h e r, he changes to b e in g so le m n ly
g r a t e f u l t h a t she would lo v e him. He l e a r n s t h a t h i s h av in g a l l
th e money, p r o p e r t y , and a r i s t o c r a t i c c o n n e c tio n s i s n o th in g
compared to h is new humble joy th a t Elizabeth has come to care for
him. E l i z a b e th , on h e r s i d e , f e e l s much more g r a t e f u l f o r Mr.
Darcy’s forgiving her " a ll the petulance and acrimony of her manner
in re je c tin g him, and a l l the unjust accusations accompanying her
r e je c tio n ," (265) than she was fo r a l l h is money and property when
he f i r s t proposed. "Such a change in a man o f so much p r id e ,
ex cited not only astonishm ent bu t g r a t i t u d e — f o r to lo v e , a r d e n t
love, i t must be a ttrib u te d ." (266)
Frederick Wentworth le a rn s to stop thinking o f women as "fine
l a d i e s " i n s t e a d o f " r a t i o n a l c r e a t u r e s " w ith h i s " s u p e r f in e . . .
g a l l a n t r y , " as Sophia C r o f t so a p t l y c a l l s i t . (69) He l e a r n s to
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l i s t e n , to t r y to u n d e rsta n d th e meaning o f Anne’s a c t i o n s and
w ords, i n s t e a d o f j u s t e x p e c tin g them to be what he w a n ts, th en
s to rm in g o f f when th e y a r e n o t. O r i g i n a l l y , C ap tain W entworth
thinks th a t he should command and Anne should follow . This is what
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he c a l l s " firm n e s s ." (88) For both th e le a d in g men in th e
P atriarchy novels, the journey i s made from thinking th a t they are
the person with the needs which have p r io r i t y to be f u l f i l l e d , and
e n v is io n in g th e women th ey want as o b j e c t s to ta k e c are o f th o se
n eed s. They both l e a r n to engage in a r e l a t i o n which i s more
r e c i p r o c a l th an t h a t . Austen w ants us a l l to hold o u t f o r such
r e c i p r o c i t y , i n s t e a d o f j o i n i n g men a s a womb to tak e c a re o f a l l
t h e i r d e s i r e s w h ile we rem ain u n f u l f i l l e d . Women sh o u ld n ev er
/
p led g e o u r s e lv e s to anyone who i s n o t a s humbly g r a t e f u l and
j u b i l a n t as F i t z w i l l i a m Darcy and F r e d e r ic k W entworth a r e , when
they discover th a t E lizabeth Bennet and Anne E l l i o t love them a f t e r
a l l .
What th is shows us is th a t Frederick Wentworth’s demand th a t
Anne bind h e r s e lf to him, merely on the stren g th of h is cap tiv a tin g
b e l i e f in him self and h is own luck, is unreasonable. His demands
and harsh in te r p r e ta tio n of her breaking o ff the engagement spring
from h is commitment to romantic poses, whose s e n tim e n ta lity r iv a ls
t h a t o f M arianne Dashwood's. He i s u n a b le to u n d e rs ta n d Anne’s
re a s o n s f o r b re a k in g t h e i r p le d g e , b u t i n s t e a d i n t e r p r e t s i t as
c a llo u sly as p o ssib le, as weakness of c h aracter, as s u s c e p tib ility
to th e p r id e o f h e r f a m ily . I n s te a d o f l i s t e n i n g f o r Anne's
3^1
r e a s o n s , C ap tain W entworth seems to have r e a c te d as " f i r m l y ” as
p o s s i b l e , w ith "unbending" "o p in io n s." (28) He dropped h e r ,
"leaving the country in consequence."
Austen’s novels c o n tin u ally suggest th a t where there is love,
people w i l l pop up as suddenly as Henry Tilney does a t the assembly
and a t F u llerton; as Edward F errars does a t Barton Cottage a f t e r he
i s freed from Lucy S teele; as F itz w illia m Darcy does to save Lydia,
and to retu rn to E lizabeth a f t e r Lady Catherine’s v i s i t . They w ill
suddenly reappear from London as quickly as George Knightley does
a f t e r he h e a r s o f th e engagem ent betw een Jane F a i r f a x and Frank
C hurchill, or from Plymouth as soon as Captain Wentworth does when
he discovers th a t Louisa Musgrove is to marry James Benwick. Henry
Crawford noticeably does not bring h im self to Portsmouth to take
Fanny P r ic e back to M a n sfie ld . But s e l f - d e c e i v e d and b i t t e r as
Captain Wentworth was, we can have l i t t l e hope th a t he would have
re a liz e d h is e rro rs about Anne i f she had not appeared before him
again, i f he had not been forced to see and think about her again.
I th i n k th e p o i n t in th e P a t r i a r c h y n o v e ls i s t h a t women and
men bo th need a more open r e l a t i o n to each o t h e r b ecause o f th e
d i f f i c u l t y t h a t l i e s in l i s t e n i n g to each o th e r . But A u sten ’s
books a lso entrance us away from a model o f heterosexual r e la tio n s
based on a woman's obeying a man's version of what r ig h t standards
and b e h a v i o r a r e . P e r s u a s i o n i s a l l a b o u t Anne E l l i o t ' s
c o n s c ie n c e , how she sh o u ld d e c id e and cope w ith h e r in d e p e n d e n t
l i f e , n o t ab o u t how e v e r y th in g would have been so lv ed i f she had
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j u s t recognized her tru e love when she f i r s t knew him, and confided
in a l l h i s dream s f o r h i m s e l f , as i f th ey were f o r both o f them.
Anne’s decision i s not the r e s u l t of "over-persuasion” (61) but is
based on h e r b e l i e f in h e r s e l f as a s e p a r a t e p e rso n , who needs to
decide h e r s e lf what to do w ith her own l i f e , and how to be involved
w ith others. She decided th a t love was not enough a t th a t tim e, in
t h a t s i t u a t i o n . She a l s o a f f i r m s t h a t she would n ev er g iv e such
advice h e rs e lf as Lady Russell gave to h er. (246)
But Anne did not break o ff her engagement to Captain Wentworth
f o r Lady R u s s e ll 's re a s o n s . The n a r r a t o r t e l l s us t h a t "Had she
not imagined h e r s e lf consulting h is good, even more than her own,
sh e c o u ld h a r d l y h av e g i v e n him u p "; sh e d i d i t " f o r h i s
a d v a n ta g e ." (28) We know t h i s i s t r u e because she l e t s C ap tain
Wentworth know th a t she would have married him when he "returned to |
England in the year e ig h t w ith a few thousand pounds," (247) i f he
had w r i t t e n to h e r . Money and r a n k w ere n o t th e i s s u e .
W entw orth's own a t t i t u d e was th e n th e p ro b le m : "But I was proud,
too proud to ask a g a in . I d id n o t u n d e rs ta n d you. I s h u t my eyes
and would not do you ju s tic e ." The s e lf - g r a tu la tio n of self-made
men is laughed a t w ith Captain Wentworth's next r e a liz a tio n ,
T his i s a r e c o l l e c t i o n which ought to make me f o r g iv e
e v e ry one so o n er th an m y se lf. . . . I t i s a s o r t o f p a in ,
to o , which i s new to me. I have been used to th e
g r a t if i c a t i o n of believ in g myself to earn every blessing
th a t I enjoyed. I have valued myself on honourable t o i l s
and ju s t rewards. (247)
343
What we f in d ou t i s t h a t t h e r e i s no n e c e s s a r y c a u s a l r e l a t i o n
betw een th e h o n o ra b le t o i l s and th e j u s t re w a rd , betw een th e
e a rn in g and th e e n jo y in g . Anne E l l i o t did both f o r many y e a r s
without any reward.
Among t h e m ale t r u e l o v e s A u s te n p r o v i d e s f o r h e r
p ro ta g o n ists, there are two good men in the Sisterhood novels, two
who make m is ta k e s w ith t h e i r f i r s t lo v e s b u t l e a r n th e e r r o r o f
them in the Family Heritage novels, and two profoundly e rrin g and
s e x is t men in the two P atriarch y novels. These are the leading men
who need to be taught the most about love r e la tio n s , about being in
love in s p ite of the p atria rch y . F itz w illia m Darcy, as we saw, had
to s to p p ro c e e d in g as i f he were th e judge in a b e a u ty and t a l e n t
pageant. Frederick Wentworth needs to shed h is crass conclusions,
l e a r n to l i s t e n a s w e ll a s judge. His m is ta k e was t h a t he wanted
Anne to be open to i n f l u e n c e only from him , w h ile he f e l t f r e e to
jump to w h a te v e r c o n c lu s io n s he li k e d a b o u t h e r , w ith o u t e v e r
checking back to see i f they were v alid . Put another way, th is is
to be open to Anne's i n f l u e n c e h i m s e l f , o r to have a r e l a t i o n to
her where she is able to form her h a lf, based on her own needs, but
more im po rtan tly , on her own decisions about what seems r ig h t. She
d id t h i s , b u t C ap tain W entw orth, i n s t e a d o f i n t e r p r e t i n g i t
c o r r e c t l y a s f i r m n e s s o f p u r p o s e , c a l l s i t t h e o p p o s i t e :
"w eakness" and " f e e b le n e s s o f c h a r a c t e r ." (61) He b e w a ils h e r
lack of firm ness. E s s e n tia lly , to such a person, firm ness becomes
whatever he lik e s , weakness whatever he disapproves.
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At the height of her re g re t over what Frederick Wentworth has
den ied them b o th , Anne E l l i o t condemns the "over-anxious caution
which seems to i n s u l t ex ertio n and d i s t r u s t Providence!” (30) But
the problem with th is is th a t i f you f l a t t e r "exertion" and confide
in "Providence," you o fte n end up lik e those locomotive purveyors
of cheerful p re d ic tio n s, Frank Churchill and Henry Crawford. They
both make many other people q u ite unhappy. Caution may sometimes
seem " o v e r-a n x io u s" b u t when we want to make c o n s c ie n tio u s
d e c i s io n s which a f f e c t th e p eo p le we lo v e , i t i s a l l t h a t we have
g o t. Most o f us would r a t h e r be c a u tio u s t h e r e th an c a v a l i e r .
What Austen te a c h e s us i s t h a t g en u in e " e x e r tio n " and " c h e e r f u l
c o n fid e n c e in f u t u r i t y " had been b e s t e x p re s s e d , n o t by Anne's
p le d g in g and p r e m a tu re ly r e s t r i c t i n g h e r s e l f , b u t by w a itin g a
l i t t l e to see i f t h e i r engagem ent were r e a l l y r i g h t , w h eth er
Captain Wentworth would be able to earn enough fo r them to marry.
I f Frederick Wentworth had been able to understand t h i s , then th a t
l i t t l e would only have been two years. Austen here is showing us
y e t a n o th e r v e r s io n o f how she b e l i e v e s women ought to p r o t e c t
ourselves and others. Instead of the standard p ic tu re which leaves
i t a l l to the man, women must r e j e c t as c u ltu r a l myth the idea th a t
d e a lin g w ith th e money i s a l l and only a man's r e s p o n s i b i l i t y .
Anne may not have been allowed to earn the money h e r s e lf , but about
i t she can, she did, decide fo r h e rse lf.
Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion are the two Austen novels,
w hich, as many r e a d e r s have n o t i c e d , o f f e r us p i c t u r e s o f
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esta b lish e d , happy marriages in an old er couple, the Gardiners and
th e C r o f ts . Both books lo c a t e p a r t o f what i s happy ab o u t t h e i r
endings in the fu tu re re la tio n s of the new p a ir with the eld er, as
well as with many other people: Georgiana Darcy, Jane Bennet and
Charles Bingley; Lady R ussell, Captain and Mrs. H arville. The joy
o f g e t t i n g to know new peo p le i s p r e s e n te d as p a r t o f th e jo y o f
f a l l i n g i n love w ith a "handsome hero." The way o f coping w ith a
X
h o s tile p a tria rc h y , then, becomes one of discovering people to love
/
on u n p a t r i a r c h a l te r m s , on te rm s o f e q u a l i t y and lo v in g r e s p e c t .
Our rescue from the damage done us by the c u ltu re , is to tr y to see
beyond i t , to f in d f r i e n d s and a f f e c t i o n which a r e more p e r s o n a l
and more i n t e r e s t i n g th an th e c a t e g o r i e s o f p eo p le th e c u l t u r e
applauds.
Pride and Prejudice may seem a t f i r s t to be organized so lely
around Elizabeth Bennet's movements, w ith a p lo t blossoming in to a
conventional love sto ry , even an a rch ety p ical t a l e of romance. But
the c u ltu ra l terminology of love i s c o n s is te n tly challenged in the
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novel. Mr. Darcy's i n i t i a l misjudgment th a t E lizabeth is eagerly
e x p e c tin g h i s a d d r e s s e s c e n t e r s around two e r r o r s . The f i r s t i s
th a t he b elieves th a t a l l women, including E lizabeth, would be glad
to m arry him. His second m is ta k e i s t h a t he n ev er p e r c e iv e s
E lizabeth's mistaken judgments about him—th a t she believes th a t he
"despises h is fe llo w -c re a tu re s in g e n e r a l ," (80) n ev er lo o k in g a t
them e x c e p t to c r i t i c i z e and sc o rn . The no v el fo c u s e s on Mr.
Darcy's assumptions both th a t Elizabeth wants to marry him and th a t
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Jane, though appearing not to love Mr. B ingley, must want to marry
h im a n y w a y . As a l l t h e c r i t i c s h a v e n o t i c e d , t h e " t r u t h
u n iv e r s a lly acknowledged" i s r e a l l y t h a t any woman i s d e siro u s o f a
husband o f good fo rtu n e .
According to P rid e and P re ju d ic e , th e whole system o f thought
in th e fa sh io n a b le world judges women h a rsh ly , beyond tru ism s about
women's a b s tr a c t d e s ire fo r m arriage. I t im p lie s th a t a woman is
judged by sta n d a rd s which a re l i t t l e o th e r than how she appears to
men. B eauty and a c c o m p lish m e n t a r e rec k o n e d a s h e r g r e a t e s t i
a c h ie v e m e n ts . We can se e t h a t Mr. D arcy i s e n tr e n c h e d in th e
s ta n d a r d f a s h i o n a b l e ju d g m e n ts e a r l y on b e c a u se he d i s m i s s e s >
Meryton people f o r th e wrong reaso n s, d isp a ra g in g them as "people
o f l i t t l e b e a u ty and no f a s h io n ." (16) His ju d g m en t o f Jane
Bennet i s ty p ic a l male h o s t i l i t y , "Miss Bennet he acknowledged to
be p r e t t y , b u t she s m ile d to o much." E l i z a b e t h , o f c o u r s e , i s
" to le ra b le ; but n o t handsome enough to tem pt me." (12) "When they
n e x t m e t ," t h e n a r r a t o r t e l l s u s , Mr. D a rc y c o n t i n u e s h i s
v
a g g re ss iv e ly judgm ental a t t i t u d e toward E liz a b e th , f o r "he looked
a t h e r o n ly to c r i t i c i s e , " m aking i t " c l e a r to h i m s e l f and h i s
f r i e n d s t h a t she had h a r d ly a good f e a t u r e i n h e r f a c e ." (23) f
C a r o lin e B in g le y in fo r m s us a t P e m b e rle y t h a t w hat Mr. D arcy had
a c tu a lly s a id was "She a b eau ty !— I should as soon c a l l her m other
a w it." (271)
T his i s m iso g y n y , b u t i t i s a c c e p te d a s n o rm a l in t h i s
c u l t u r e , w here men a r e a llo w e d to so a t t a c k women a l l th e tim e .
347
The in flu e n c e o f men’s judging women pu ts women under p re ssu re to
be " a c c o m p lis h e d ” ; i n o r d e r to be so a p p ro v e d , a c c o r d in g to Mr.
D arcy and C a r o lin e B in g le y , women m ust a c h ie v e a s t a t e o f such
p e r f e c t know ledge and p e rfo rm a n c e , (39) w h ic h , a s E l i z a b e th so
e n d e a r in g ly p o i n t s o u t , no human woman c o u ld a t t a i n . Mr. D arcy
a c c u s e s h e r o f b e in g " s e v e re on y o u r own s e x ” i n d o u b tin g th e
p o s s i b i l i t y o f a l l t h i s , (40) but E liza b e th i s sim ply defending th e
h u m a n ity , n o t th e i d e a l , o f women. As Mr. D arcy g ro w s more
a t t r a c t e d to E liz a b e th , he n o tic e s only what i s s p e c ia l about h e r,
n o t what resem bles a paragon. But because those stan d a rd s e x i s t ,
th e re i s nothing in Mr. Darcy's l i f e or p a tte r n s o f thought to deny
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t h a t th e c h o ic e to m a rry , a s to d a n c e , i s a l l on h i s s i d e , o r to
s u g g e s t t h a t E l i z a b e th may be l e s s th a n re a d y to p a rd o n h i s
rudeness a t the b a l l , le s s than eager fo r h is good o pinion, or le s s
than w ild to accep t h is p ro p o sal o f m arriage.
Mr. D arcy l e a r n s a g r e a t d e a l . He o u tg ro w s a t y r a n n i c a l
n o tio n o f lo v e . But h i s i s n o t a " r a d i c a l l y d o u b le c h a r a c t e r , "
whose "ambiguous a f f i n i t y w ith h is ty ra n n ic a l aunt" makes him "a
r e d e e m e r / j a i l e r " ; ^ A uerbach a r g u e s t h a t "Jan e A usten ig n o re d
Darcy's u n p leasan t sid e w ith s k i l l f u l sophistry."*1 I t i s tru e th a t
Mr. Darcy i s in to le r a b ly h o r r ib le to E liz a b e th a t th e b a l l , and we
know from th e S is te r h o o d n o v e l s , N o rth a n g e r Abbey and Emma, how
s e rio u s ly Austen tak es such s e x is t s l i g h t s given by men to women.
But every o th e r th in g which makes Mr. Darcy look aw fu l sp rin g s from
h i s c o n s c i e n t i o u s r e f u s a l t o e n c o u r a g e C a r o l i n e B i n g l e y 's —
348
a t t e n tio n s . He looks bad because he i s n o t Henry Crawford, he does
n o t w ant to e n t e r t a i n h i m s e l f w ith h e r a d m i r a ti o n f o r him . The
r e a d e r c a n e v e n s u r m i s e t h a t , l i k e h i s s i s t e r G e o r g i a n a ,
F itz w illia m Darcy i s shy, and so has d i f f i c u l t y d e a lin g w ith Miss
B in g le y ’s un w an ted a d v a n c e s . But many r e c e n t r e a d e r s have
m istak en ly defended Mr. Crawford w hile d i s t r u s t i n g Mr. Darcy.
Much o f what E liz a b e th , and the re a d e r, assume to be p ro o f o f
Mr. D arcy ’s i l l - n a t u r e com es from o u r i n t e r p r e t i n g C a r o lin e
B in g le y ’s s e n ti m e n t s a s h i s . She o p e n ly r i d i c u l e s E l i z a b e t h ’s
f a m il y , and E l i z a b e th assu m e s t h a t C a r o l i n e ’s b a rb s r e f l e c t Mr.
D arcy ’s f e e l i n g s a s w e l l . In f a c t , th o u g h , Mr. D arcy i s a lw a y s
p o l i t e —more p o l i t e , perhaps, th an E liz a b e th i s to h is aunt. But
h is r e s t r a i n t does him no good u n t i l we re -re a d . E liz a b e th and th e
re a d e r lump Mr. Darcy’s resp o n ses w ith C aroline B ingley’s. That is
th e im p o rta n c e o f th e P em b e rle y s c e n e s — n o t th e d i s c o v e r y o f Mr.
D arcy ’s money. We a l r e a d y know a b o u t t h a t . But th e u n f o ld in g o f
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how good he i s , and " g o o d -n a tu r e d ," (249) i s w hat b o th A u s te n ’s
p r o t a g o n i s t and h e r r e a d e r l e a r n to s e e . From a c t i n g a s he w a s /
t r a i n e d , Mr. D arcy l e a r n s to f e e l a new k in d o f a f f e c t i o n f o r
E l i z a b e t h w hich e n a b le s him to do b e t t e r t h i n g s th a n th e c u l t u r e
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ex p ects o f men^
While Mr. Darcy i s ta u g h t to th in k o f h im se lf and E liz a b e th as
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fellow -hum ans in ste a d o f man and ornam ent, E liz a b e th makes h er own
journey. In the second h a lf o f P rid e and P re ju d ic e , E liz a b e th can
no lo n g e r w atch th e o t h e r c h a r a c t e r s a s i f th e y w ere f i g u r e s on a
349
s t a g e , a s she d id w ith Mr. D arcy e a r l i e r i n th e book. As Morgan
has shown, E liz a b e th learn ed t h i s view from h er fa th e r.^ E liz ab e th
r e a l i z e s t h a t she i s in v o lv e d and v u l n e r a b l e ; sh e w o r r i e s , i s
c o n t i n u a l l y s u r p r i s e d , and moved by h e r s u r p r i s e . She h as
le a r n e d to w onder w hat o t h e r p e o p le a r e f e e l i n g — t h a t t h e r e a r e
m y s t e r i e s c r u c i a l to h e r i n th e a r e a aro u n d h e r . P a r t i c i p a t i o n ,
only, can help h e r, not the p a ssiv e "o b je c tiv e " s o r t o f o b serv atio n
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t h r o u g h w h ic h sh e t r i e d t o s e e b e f o r e . A u s te n p o r t r a y s
" o b je c tiv ity " as only s e lf - d e c e p tio n , and w orse, a r e f u s a l to care.
E liz a b e th can no longer e n te r a room as c a s u a lly or meet new people
as c o n fid e n tly . Her demeanor and fe e lin g s a re r a d ic a lly d i f f e r e n t
when she m e e ts G e o rg ia n a D arcy th a n when she w alked o v e r to m eet
Lady C atherine. With Lady C ath erin e, "E liz a b e th ’s courage did not
f a i l h e r ," (161) and once in tr o d u c e d , she "found h e r s e l f q u i t e
e q u a l to th e s c e n e , and c o u ld o b s e rv e th e t h r e e l a d i e s b e f o r e h e r
co m p o se d ly ." (162) How a l t e r e d and how m oving a r e E l i z a b e t h ’s
se n sa tio n s as she w aits fo r G eo rg ian a's v i s i t ,
th e p e rtu rb a tio n of E liz a b e th 's fe e lin g s was every moment
i n c r e a s i n g . She w as q u i t e a m a z e d a t h e r own
discom posure; b u t amongst o th e r causes o f d is q u ie t, she
d re a d e d l e s t th e p a r t i a l i t y o f th e b r o t h e r s h o u ld have
s a id to o much in h e r f a v o u r ; and more th a n commonly
a n x io u s to p l e a s e , she n a t u r a l l y s u s p e c te d t h a t e v e ry
power o f p le a sin g would f a i l h e r . (260)
Of course those "o th er causes o f d is q u ie t" have to do w ith h er new
f e e l i n g s a b o u t Mr. D arcy. But E l i z a b e t h now w o n d ers how she can
make o th e r people li k e h e r; th e n a r r a to r sa y s,
350
E l i z a b e t h , on h e r s i d e , had much to do. She w anted to
a s c e r t a i n th e f e e l i n g s o f each o f h e r v i s i t o r s , she
wanted to compose her own, and to make h e r s e l f ag reeab le
to a l l . (262)
The person who did not care how she im pressed Lady C ath erin e, now
f e e ls an a g ita tio n she eschewed b efo re. Here, in try in g to fig u re
out how o th e rs respond to h e r, E liz a b e th i s much le s s c o n fid e n t but
more tr u l y p e rc e p tiv e , though she knows alm o st nothing except her
own fe e lin g s o f worry and ex citem en t.
E l i z a b e t h 's e x c i t e m e n t , I t h i n k , becom es o u rs in th e second
h a lf o f th e novel; though d i f f e r e n t , i t o f f e r s us as much p le a su re
as the tin g lin g s o r t o f e x p e c ta tio n we f e l t throughout th e events
le ad in g up to th e f i r s t p ro p o sal, w a itin g fo r th e c o n f l ic t between
E l i z a b e t h and Mr. D a rc y t o e x p l o d e . Now we a r e w a t c h i n g
c o m m u n ic a tio n grow i n s t e a d o f be t h w a r t e d , w ith a f e e l i n g I can
o n ly d e s c r i b e a s g l e e o r e x u l t a t i o n . T h is g le e b e g in s d u r in g
E l i z a b e t h 's d r i v e t o P em b erle y and w h ile sh e b e g in s to l i s t e n to
Mr. Darcy by re -im a g in in g him according to what h is t a s t e and Mrs.
R e y n o ld s' w ords im p ly . Our s e n s e o f t h r i l l p e a k s when Mr. D arcy
h im se lf a r r iv e s and speaks to E liz a b e th on the lawn. W e experience
both E liz a b e th 's em barrassm ent, and an e a rn e s t y e t jo y fu l suspense
over what t h e i r c o n fro n ta tio n w ill b rin g , w hether an argum ent or
som ething e ls e . W e f e e l a p o s itiv e e c s ta sy when th e something e ls e
o ccu rs: h e ^ is frie n d ly and she i s s u rp ris e d .
T here i s e x c i t e m e n t , we f i n d , n o t o n ly in c o n f l i c t , b u t a l s o
i n c o m m u n ic a tio n , and we ta k e jo y i n f o ll o w i n g a s th e c o n n e c tio n
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b e tw e e n E l i z a b e th and Mr. D arcy w orks i t s e l f o u t. T here i s a
t h r i l l to know ing t h a t th e G a r d in e r s can se e t h a t Mr. D arcy s t i l l
lo v e s E l i z a b e th a t th e in n (262) and s u s p e n s e a s to how sh e w i l l
d is c o v e r t h a t she lo v e s him a s much, t h a t a l l h e r " g r a t i t u d e , ”
" re sp e c t," "esteem ," " i n t e r e s t in h is w e lfa re ," and those fe e lin g s
"o f a f r i e n d l i e r n a tu r e " w hich " c o u ld n o t be e x a c t l y d e f in e d ,"
(26 6 -2 6 7 ) am ount to lo v e a s " a r d e n t" a s h i s . Y et when E l i z a b e th
f i n a l l y makes th a t t r a n s i t i o n , our ex citem en t i s transform ed in to
som ething sad d er, because she only p e rc e iv e s her own love when she
th in k s Lydia’s d isg ra c e has k i l l e d Mr. Darcy's love fo r h er: "Her
pow er was s in k in g ; e v e ry t h i n g m ust s in k u n d e r such a p r o o f o f
f a m ily w e a k n e ss, su ch an a s s u r a n c e o f th e d e e p e s t d i s g r a c e . She
c o u ld n e i t h e r w onder n o r condemn . . ." (278)
E liz a b e th 's heroism i s th a t she a c c ep ts w ith o u t acrimony Mr.
Darcy's supposed f a i lu r e to keep lo v in g h e r—she loves him enough
to f e e l as n a tu r a l h is abandoning h er. Austen makes th a t b e l i e f in
th e o r d i n a r i n e s s , th e a c c e p t i b i l i t y o f such a change q u i t e
c o n v in c in g ; i t m akes th e n o v e l's c o n c e p tio n o f lo v e a l l th e more
s t a r t l i n g . P r id e and P r e ju d i c e show s u s lo v e a s s o m e th in g more
enduring, more devoted, than E liz a b e th ex p ects. Love i s not sim ply
"pow er" o v e r Mr. D arcy; t h a t i s a c o n v e n tio n l e f t o v e r from th e
a n t a g o n i s t i c i n t e r p l a y o f th e f i r s t h a l f o f th e n o v e l. A u ste n 's
Mr. D arcy show s us t h a t we can c o u n t on lo v e to be more th a n
t r a n s i e n t a t t r a c t i o n , more c a rin g than John W illoughby's d is lo y a lty
to M arian n e Dashwood, more hum ble th a n Henry C ra w fo rd 's yen f o r
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Fanny P r ic e . M arian n e i s s u r p r i s e d to l e a r n t h a t Mr. W illo u g h b y
can be c a lle d " s e lf is h " f o r h is d e s e rtio n ; S ir Thomas Bertram has
so l i t t l e f a i t h i n a r i c h man’s c o n s ta n c y to a p o o r woman t h a t he
b u l l i e s Fanny to a c c e p t Mr. C raw ford b e fo re he can r e p e n t . S i r
Thomas never r e f l e c t s on what a bleak m arriage w i l l ensue from so
t r a n s i e n t an a l l e g i a n c e . Mr. D arcy 's " e a r n e s t m e d i t a t i o n " (278)
does not r e lin q u is h care fo r E liz a b e th , but s tu d ie s in s te a d how to
h e lp h e r and h e r f a m ily . R a th e r th a n d i s t a n c e h i m s e l f from
E liz a b e th ’s tro u b le s , Mr. Darcy f e e ls a lre a d y p a r t of them, and he
a c t s to h e lp . M ore, he a c t s w ith o u t s e e k in g to b u rd en E l i z a b e th
w ith g r a t it u d e .
Austen's novels show us th a t the a d m ira tio n commonly accepted
a s m en's "lo v e " f o r women i s n o t enough. A f f e c t i o n n e e d s to
in c lu d e a m u tu a l v u l n e r a b i l i t y and d o u b t o f r e t u r n e d c a r i n g ,
communication and resp o n se, r e c ip r o c ity o f em otion and p erc ep tio n .
I t i s c le a r ly no f a u l t w ith E liz ab e th th a t she i s d i f f i d e n t about
assuming th a t Mr. Darcy loves her. I t i s a sig n t h a t even when we
a r e good we s t i l l make m is ta k e s a b o u t th e o n es we lo v e . R eading
t h e m inds o f even th o s e we lo v e b e s t i s a p r o c e s s w hich does n o t
come q u ic k ly b u t ta k e s tim e , c o n t a c t , e x p e r ie n c e , and lo v in g
c o n f id e n c e . Mr. D a rc y 's e d u c a t i o n , and E l i z a b e t h 's , h a s been to
move out from the c u l t u r a l s tr u c tu r e s which co d ify love and th u s,
in e f f e c t , p rev en t o r d e stro y i t , to a re -e v a lu a tio n which a llo w s/
th ese c h a ra c te rs to love n o t j u s t as a d iv e rs io n , but in a way th a t
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i n c l u d e s c a r e , w o rry , and c o n c e rn . T h is c o n f l i c t i s a l s o th e
problem and the p a tte r n in P ersu a sio n .
One o f th e most im p o rta n t ways Austen ex p lo res the connection
between c h a ra c te r and c u ltu re i s to work out how infuence o p e rate s
over c h a ra c te rs . In P ersu asio n , she does t h i s through th e iss u e o f
p e rsu a sio n , showing how p e rsu asio n s form in her c h a r a c te r s ' minds.
The n o v e l c o n t i n u a l l y lo o k s a t how p e o p le become i n t e r e s t e d in
a n y th in g , why th e y v a lu e w hat th e y h o ld d e a r , w hat hopes th e y
c h e r i s h and why. In P e r s u a s io n , p e o p le 's i n t e r e s t s , i d e a s , and
m otives sp rin g from p a r t ic u la r em otions o r d e s ir e s . For in s ta n c e ,
b e c a u se Mary M usgrove i s j e a l o u s o f e v e ry o n e e l s e , c o v e tin g th e
b e s t o f e v e ry o n e e l s e 's l i f e , r a t h e r th a n w i l l i n g to l i v e th ro u g h
h er own, she demands w hatever anyone e ls e has or g e ts to do. What
she c a n n o t h a v e , she t r i e s to p r e v e n t anyone e l s e 's g a in in g . I f
she must s a c r i f i c e an engagement to nurse t h e i r son, she wants her
spouse C harles to s ta y home too. (55) When he decides to go a f t e r
a l l , sh e i n s i s t s on acco m p an y in g him . (57) When L o u isa and
H e n rie tta Musgrove announce t h e i r p lan s to take a long w alk, Mary
dem ands to go a lo n g a s w e l l — even th o u g h sh e d i s l i k e s w a lk in g —
r a th e r than d e fe r to t h e i r h in ts t h a t they would r a th e r walk alone.
(83)
Mary Musgrove’s je a lo u s in s is te n c e on being where the a c tio n
i s cu lm in a te s in h er r e f u s a l to r e tu rn to U ppercross a f t e r L ouisa's
a c c i d e n t . In h e r i n f l e x i b l e s e l f - a s s e r t i o n , Mary w an ts to n u rs e
L o u isa i n s t e a d o f Anne, b u t sh e does n o t know w hat t h a t m eans.
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Mary i s u n s u s c e p t i b l e to th e h o n o ra b le i n f l u e n c e o f h o n e s t
p e r s u a s i o n , b u t e x c e s s i v e l y moved by o t h e r s l e s s d i r e c t l y . She
j u s t co p ies everyone e ls e r a th e r than a c tin g lik e a s e p a ra te person
who can re sp o n d to o t h e r s o p e n ly , who can be p e rsu a d e d f a c e - t o -
face. In ste a d , w ith sid e lo n g , envious looks, Mary a p p ra ise s o th e r
c h a r a c t e r s ' l i v e s i n c o m p a riso n to h e r s . M ary's i s a r e l a t i o n to
experience t h a t i s ta u g h t by a c u ltu re which em phasizes forms over
p e r s o n a l f e e l i n g , b u t i t i s n o t l i m i t e d to women. S i r W a lte r 's
i n s i s t e n c e on h i s own s u p e r i o r i t y e v in c e s th e same k in d o f
j e a l o u s y , th o u g h th e sy ste m h a s g iv e n him a b e t t e r s ta n c e from
which to e x e rc ise i t .
In f a c t, though, th e re i s a g r e a t d eal o f m anipulation in th is
n o v e l. A usten o r g a n iz e s i t so t h a t we can se e t h a t w here
c h a ra c te rs r e s i s t th e more d i r e c t c o n ta c t o f p e rsu a sio n , th ey opt
e i t h e r to m a n ip u la te o t h e r s o r a r e m a n e u v e r e d t h e m s e l v e s .
M a n ip u la tiv e f l a t t e r y becom es th e s o le i n t e r c o u r s e among S i r
W a lte r , E l i z a b e th E l l i o t , and P e n e lo p e C lay. The M usgroves and
Mary would m anipulate each o th e r i f they could, but they a re not so
cunning and confine t h e i r w ishes fo r change to s e c r e t co m p lain ts to
Anne. Even C a p ta in W entw orth h a s been m a n ip u la tiv e in th e p a s t ,
try in g to induce Anne, through her love f o r him , to pledge h e r s e lf
to an i n d e f in i t e l y long engagement.
But the p o rtra y a l o f m an ip u latio n in the novel i s most pointed
i n th e p i c t u r e o f W illia m E l l i o t . Our l a s t g lim p s e o f Mr. E l l i o t
e x p o s e s "how d o u b le a game he had been p l a y i n g ," (250) t r y i n g to
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m anipulate both S ir W alter and Penelope Clay, but now ensconsed in
a new "game": w h e th e r "he may n o t be w h eed led and c a r e s s e d " by
Mrs. C lay " i n t o m aking h e r th e w if e o f S i r W illia m ." (250) But
th ro u g h o u t th e n o v e l, Mr. E l l i o t d i s c o v e r s w hat m o tiv a te s each
c h a ra c te r to lik e o th e r people, and endeavors to s a t i s f y everyone.
Only w ith Anne d o es he f a i l w here he s e e k s to p l e a s e . Yet even
w ith Anne he i s s u c c e s s f u l enough t h a t sh e e n jo y s h i s com pany,
when, s ig n i f i c a n t l y , they t a l k about Lyme. The a t t r a c t i o n i s not
so much to Mr. E l l i o t a s to rem em b erin g th e jo y o f how C a p ta in
W entw orth lo o k ed a t h e r when he n o t i c e d Mr. E l l i o t ' s a d m i r a ti o n .
(148) In W illiam E l l i o t ’s e f f o r t s to make Anne love him, he p lay s
on h er known a f f e c tio n s and i n t e r e s t s , ta lk in g about what he th in k s
she ca re s fo r. His m achinations in clu d e f l a t t e r y , but i t does not
w ork. Anne o n ly c a r e s to know from whom he h e a rd h e r p r a i s e d
b e c a u se sh e h o p es i t was from C a p ta in W e n tw o rth 's b r o t h e r . Mr.
E l l i o t p r o c u r e s h e r i n t e r e s t o n ly when i t le a d s h e r back to
th o u g h ts o f C a p ta in W en tw o rth . Even w ith o u t M rs. S m ith 's s t o r y
a b o u t Mr. E l l i o t ' s c r u e l t y , Anne s e n s e s t h a t more may l i e b eh in d
h is p ro fe ssio n s o f "what was r ig h t" : "she would have been a f r a id
to a n sw e r f o r h i s c o n d u c t." (160) Mr. E l l i o t i s n e v e r a b le to
i n f l u e n c e h e r . Anne p r e f e r s C a p ta in W e n tw o rth 's and A d m iral
C r o f t 's o p en , s im p le m anners w hich b e t r a y g e n u in e f e e l i n g to Mr.
E l l i o t 's p e r fe c t c o u r te s ie s . Those seem somehow cold and s t a l e to
h e r, in d ic a tin g an u n fe e lin g n a tu re .
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Anne i s sav ed n o t o n ly from m is ta k e s l i k e Lady R u s s e l l ’s
s u s c e p t i b i l i t y to Mr. E l l i o t ’s m ach in atio n s, but a ls o from fe e lin g
e x c e s s i v e h a t r e d f o r him l a t e r o n . A n n e 's a w a r e n e s s , h e r
c o n tin u a lly a c tiv e com parison o f h e r own p e rc e p tio n s, g iv es her
r e l i a b l e ground fo r ju d g in g —making her r e l a t i v e l y in v u ln e ra b le to
su p p o sed f a c t s l i k e Mr. E l l i o t ' s p e r f e c t i o n and Mr. E l l i o t ' s
p e r f e c t v i l l a i n y . Anne g u e s s e s w e ll even when u n aw are o f th e
f a c ts . With a l l h is d isp la y o f i n t e r e s t in Anne and the th in g s she
c a r e s a b o u t, Mr. E l l i o t n e v e r knows h e r v e ry w e l l , o r r e a l l y
c o m m u n ic a tes w ith h e r . Mere c a l c u l a t i o n c a n n o t s a t i s f y someone
who, lik e Anne, i s lis te n in g fo r genuine fe e lin g and enthusiasm .
• • • * «
A u ste n ’s r e a l i t y , a s Morgan h a s show n, i s g r e a t e r th a n o u r
f i c t i o n s f o r i t , and c a n n o t be known in a moment. T h e re fo re o u r
d e c is io n s w i l l need to be co m p licated . The problem i s , what kind
o f in flu e n c e from f rie n d s i s good or re sp o n sib le o f us to accep t?
T h is i s s t r o n g l y a women's i s s u e , g iv e n th e com plex p r o c e s s o f
reco g n izin g and s e tt i n g a sid e the custom s o f the p a tria rc h y . How
can a woman move beyond th e r u le s which say th a t she ought to obey
her p a re n ts u n t i l she fin d s h e te ro se x u a l e r o t ic lo v e, when she must
then obey h er new lo v er? What a re th e grounds fo r making one's own
d e c isio n s? P ersuasion shows th a t our most c o n sc ie n tio u s ch o ices,
th e m ost deeply decided, can alw ays be construed to a mind bent on
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h o s t i l i t y a s a c q u ie s c e n c e to som eone. There i s no such t h i n g a s
ab so lu te freedom , fo r we w ill never be a c tu a lly is o la te d from o th e r
p e o p le . We w i l l n e v e r be f r e e from c o n c e rn f o r th em , f o r how our
a c t i o n s w i l l a f f e c t them . I t i s in t h i s s p i r i t t h a t Anne E l l i o t
b r e a k s o f f h e r en g ag em en t w ith F r e d e r ic k W en tw o rth . P e o p le who
f e e l f r e e from t h i s k in d o f c o n s i d e r a t i o n tu r n o u t to be l i k e S i r
W a lte r E l l i o t , h e a r t l e s s and u n f e e l i n g , n e v e r c o n s id e r i n g th e
consequences o f h is a c tio n s f o r Anne.
At i s s u e i s w h e th e r Anne s h o u ld have r e l i e d on F r e d e r ic k
W e n tw o rth 's " c h e e r f u l c o n f id e n c e in f u t u r i t y . " (30) A usten
c o n s t r u c t s A nne's s i t u a t i o n so t h a t h e r c o n s c i e n t i o u s c h o ic e h as
n o t been v i n d i c a t e d by f u t u r e lu c k w h ile th e wrong one h a s.
Captain Wentworth has become ric h as q u ick ly as he had p re d ic te d .
But t h i s i s th e o n ly i n s t a n c e o f th e f u t u r e c o n fo rm in g to
c h a r a c te r s ' e x p e c ta tio n s in the novel. Austen o rg an izes P ersuasion
so t h a t we have to n o tic e th a t th e very n a tu re o f our liv e s ensures
th a t they cannot be p re d ic te d , however c a r e f u lly we judge and weigh
p o s s i b i l i t i e s . The v e ry e v e n t w hich m akes p o s s i b l e o u r l o v e r s '
r e u n io n , th e C r o f ts r e n t i n g o f K e l l y n c h - h a l l , i s n o t i c e a b l y an
u n b e liev a b le co in cid en ce; C aptain Wentworth sees i t as Anne being
"thrown in h is way." (242)
P ersuasion i s c o n stru c te d so th a t we have to g rap p le w ith the
f a c t t h a t t h e r e i s no r e l i a b l e way o f p r e d i c t i n g c h a r a c t e r s ’
a c t i o n s . Anne s e e s more i n v o lv e d ly and s e n s i t i v e l y th a n anyone
e ls e in th e book, y e t a l l h er und erstan d in g o f th e people she cares
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a b o u t does n o t e n a b le h e r to p r e d i c t t h e i r b e h a v io r . A ll h e r
a f f e c tio n a te i n t e r e s t in the C ro fts does not inform h er th a t they
w i l l le a v e K elly n c h f o r B ath so t h a t she w i l l be a b le to s m ile
"o v er th e many a n x io u s f e e l i n g s she had w a ste d on th e s u b j e c t " o f
"m eeting Captain Wentworth a t K e lly n c h -h a ll, or of seeing him in
company w ith h e r f r i e n d , " Lady R u s s e ll. (128) Anne's i n t i m a t e
knowledge o f F red erick Wentworth, which inform s h er th a t he loves
n e ith e r Louisa nor H e n rie tta Musgrove, cannot t e l l h er w hether he
w i l l f i n a l l y marry one of them. Lady R u sse ll, who i s accustomed to
b e lie v e h e r s e lf p e rc e p tiv e , a b le to p r e d ic t the fu tu r e , fin d s th a t
she cannot a c c u ra te ly f o r e t e l l even her own opinions. A ll t h a t she
d isc o v e rs she can p r e d ic t w ith any accuracy i s t h a t she w i l l love
th o se who love th e E l l i o t s —p a r t i c u l a r l y Anne.
Austen c o u n terp o ises p ersu asio n to m anipulation as a means o f
i n f l u e n c e , a llo w in g us to se e t h a t , a s w ith Mr. Darcy and Mr.
Wickham in P rid e and P re ju d ic e , th e re i s "some g r e a t mismanagement"
in t h e i r r e p r e s e n t a t i o n . For "one h a s g o t a l l th e g o o d n e s s, and
th e o t h e r a l l th e a p p e a ra n c e o f i t . " (225) W hile m a n ip u la tio n
lo o k s p l e a s a n t b e c a u se i t i s a c c o m p lis h e d by c a t e r i n g to th e
v ic tim 's p re ju d ic e s , p ersu asio n appears irksom e or wrong, but can
only occur where th e re i s a f f e c tio n and f u l f i l l e d duty. With the
f i r s t p a r t o f P ersu asio n , Austen s e ts up many s it u a t i o n s which show
how a tte m p ts to persuade o th e rs , as w e ll as allo w in g o n e se lf to be
persuaded, r e s u l t from atta c h m e n t, lo v e, concern, and a s e n s itiv e
aw areness o f o th e rs , a l l o f which a re ra re .
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J u x ta p o s e d to Anne’s o p e n n e s s t o p e r s u a s i o n , i s J a m e s
Benwick's use o f p o etry and s e n tim e n ta lity as a s h ie ld to p r o te c t
and s e p a r a t e h i m s e l f from e x p e r ie n c e , b u t a l s o a s a means o f
im posing h im se lf on i t . He employs h is well-known g r i e f to form
cheap connections w ith th e people around him: "He rep e a te d , w ith
such tre m u lo u s f e e l i n g , th e v a r io u s l i n e s w hich im aged a b roken
h e a r t, or a mind destroyed by w retchedness, and looked so e n t i r e ly
a s i f he m eant to be u n d e rs to o d . . (100) C a p ta in Benw ick
c a n n o t e x p r e s s h i s so rro w i n h i s own w ords b u t m u st q u o te o t h e r
p e o p le b e c a u se he a c t u a l l y f e e l s l i t t l e . His so rro w w i l l soon
d is a p p e a r . Anne’s f e e l i n g s a r e so d e e p ly a f f e c t i n g t h a t she h as
d i f f i c u l t y ex p ressin g them, but C aptain Benwick’s sen tim en ts show
t h e i r tra n sie n c e and t h e i r use fo r o th e r purposes than j u s t sorrow
i n h i s g l i b r e a d i n e s s to t a l k , h i s e a g e r n e s s " to be u n d e rs to o d ."
P o e try and so rro w a r e C a p ta in B en w ick 's m eans o f becom ing happy
a g ain , o f re p la c in g h is l o s t love by f a l l i n g in love once more.
In com parison w ith Captain Benwick’s c o n v e rsa tio n a l h a b its o f
se lf-in d u lg e n c e and Mr. E l l i o t 's o f f l a t t e r y , which are both boring
in t h e i r e x p l i c i t n e s s , C a p ta in W entw orth i s , i n i t i a l l y , l i t t l e
d i f f e r e n t. His f a ilu r e has been th a t he judges Anne by f i c t i o n a l ,
s e n tim e n ta l stan d a rd s about lo v e , w ith o u t c o n s id e r i n g t h a t t h e i r
engagement should have been com patible w ith h er s e p a ra te sense of
r e s p o n s i b i l i t y . W ith o u tra g e d p r id e and a n g e r he i n s i s t s to
h im se lf th a t Anne has weakly re je c te d him in o rd er to s a t i s f y her
i n t e r f e r i n g f r i e n d . The la n g u a g e w hich he u s e s to e x p r e s s h i s
360
o u tr a g e c o n t r a s t s s t a r k l y w ith h i s own n o rm a l h a b i t s o f sp e e c h .
C a p ta in W en tw o rth ’s c a n t a b o u t " r e s o l u t i o n ” becom es a b s u r d ly
m elodram atic. His d i a t r i b e a b o u t th e " b e a u t i f u l g lo s s y n u t" (88)
i s th e h e i g h t o f f a l s e s e n tim e n t f a l s e l y e x p r e s s e d in th e n o v e l.
I t i s b o r in g . What F r e d e r i c k W entw orth s lo w ly l e a r n s i s how to
liv e so th a t h is r e a l g o o d-heartedness can fin d ex p ressio n r a th e r
than be s t i f l e d by pique.
In P ersu asio n , Austen ren d ers love as lis te n in g c a r e f u lly to
an o th er person, a focus on h is or h er w elfare which grows in s p ite
o f th e d i s t r a c t i n g hubbub o f o t h e r p e o p le . Even in th e b e g in n in g
o f the novel when Captain Wentworth i s s t i l l nursing h is anger a t
Anne, he i s lin k e d to h e r by h i s a p p r e c i a t i o n f o r g e n u in e t i e s
between people. Anne i s th e only member o f her fam ily who w rite s
r e g u l a r l e t t e r s , w h ile i t was u n d e r C a p ta in W en tw o rth ’s good
i n f l u e n c e t h a t D ick M usgrove w ro te h i s o n ly tw o d i s i n t e r e s t e d
l e t t e r s to h is fa m ily , who, in c lu d in g Louisa and H e n rie tta , do not
w rite o fte n them selves. This sense o f the im portance o f t i e s among
p e o p le m akes Anne's o n ly s o u rc e o f r e g r e t a t f i n a l l y becom ing
engaged to F red erick W entworth, the f a c t t h a t she can connect him
w ith only two f rie n d s w orth sh arin g .
C aptain Wentworth’s problem has been th a t he could not l i s t e n
to Anne's m o tiv e s f o r b r e a k in g o f f t h e i r en g ag em en t b e c a u se he
c o u ld n o t im a g in e h e r l i f e , h e r r e a s o n s . T hat i s th e d i f f e r e n c e
b e tw e e n th em , f o r Anne c o n t i n u a l l y u s e s h e r i m a g in a tio n to
u n d e r s ta n d w hat e v e ry o n e e l s e i s l i v i n g th ro u g h . I t i s h e r
361
s tre n g th o f im ag in atio n which g iv es Anne h er power o f s u b je c tiv ity
and in te n s ity o f em otion; t h i s a b i l i t y to f e e l a tta c h e s Anne to the
v a r i e t i e s o f her own f e l t l i f e and to o th e rs o u tsid e as w e ll—i t i s
a l i s t e n i n g im ag in atio n which Captain Wentworth w ill f in a ll y le a rn
to e x te n d to w a rd Anne h e r s e l f . B ecause sh e h a s th e l i v e l i e s t ,
k in d e s t, most involved im ag in atio n throughout P ersu asio n , Anne i3
more i n te r e s tin g and has a more e x c itin g l i f e than th e c h a ra c te rs
i n whom r e a d e r s d e t e c t m o ra l f a i l u r e . But th e i s s u e i s n o t j u s t
v ir tu e or i t s la c k , but how liv e s become more, or l e s s , w orthw hile
and e n te r ta in in g . In ju x tap o sin g Anne’s im ag in atio n w ith the s e l f -
d ecep tio n o f P e rsu a sio n ’s o t h e r c h a r a c t e r s , A usten d i s t i n g u i s h e s
between the outward movement o f mind which a tta c h e s people, and the
s e lf is h n e s s which s e p a ra te s them.
A usten c r e a t e s p o w e r f u lly moving s c e n e s b etw een Anne and
Captain Wentworth in P ersuasion by d e p ic tin g th e connection between
r e a l i t y and im ag in atio n . Events become im p o rtan t and r e a l because
th e y a p p e a l to Anne’s , to o u r, i m a g in a tio n . F a n ta s y and rom ance
become a c e l e b r a t i o n o f r e a l i t y i n s t e a d o f a v e i l w ith w hich to
s h ie ld o n e se lf from h u rt. When Captain Wentworth removes l i t t l e
W alter Musgrove from Anne’s back, and when ''his w ill and h is hands’’
arran g e t h a t Anne be d riv en home from W inthrop, they communicate
w ith each o t h e r in a g e n u in e , p e r s o n a l way, w ith o u t c l i c h e s .
F red erick Wentworth d e c la re s h is love to Anne as unconsciously as
he a c t s to g iv e h e r r e l i e f . A u s te n 's d e s c r i p t i o n s r e n d e r Anne's
f e e lin g s o f s u rp r is e t h a t Captain Wentworth can loom up so q u ick ly ,
362
s i l e n t l y , and p o w erfu lly in h er l i f e ag ain . That " t r i f l e ” (81) as
Anne c a l l s the f i r s t episode, and " th is l i t t l e circu m stan ce," (91)
as she th in k s of th e second, communicate love and what being moved
by someone e ls e f e e ls lik e . The power o f th ese moments i s worthy
o f a l l th e resp o n siv en ess o f Anne’s im ag in atio n and a g ita tio n .
The v e ry l a c k o f v e r b a l e x p l i c i t n e s s in t h e i r e x p e r ie n c e s
t o g e t h e r f o r c e s Anne and C a p ta in W entw orth to a sk q u e s t i o n s ,
im agine, and sp e c u la te about each o th e rs ' a c tio n s and words. The
s c e n e s w here th e y sp eak to each o t h e r r e s o n a t e a s we se e how
c a r e f u lly and y e t im a g in a tiv e ly they both l i s t e n to every tone and
s y lla b le , making up in te r p r e t a t i o n s out o f t h e i r deep knowledge o f
each o t h e r , an a c q u a in ta n c e w hich expands c o n tin u a lly under such
stren u o u s e f f o r t s o f l i s t e n i n g and im agining. Such lis te n in g and
im ag in a tiv e guesswork i s A usten's p o rtra y a l o f a r ig h t r e l a t io n to
l i f e , to love. Even when th e o th e r person speaks s o f tly , Anne and
C a p ta in W entw orth h e a r each o t h e r th ro u g h crow ded ro o m s, am id
tum ultuous n o ise. Anne l i s t e n s and i n t e r p r e t s Captain W entworth's
f e e lin g s throughout a l l h is in te rc o u rs e w ith Louisa and H e n rie tta ,
and i s a b le to u n d e r s ta n d him a s no one e l s e d o e s. C a p ta in
Wentworth p e rc e iv e s needs o f Anne's which no one e ls e n o tic e s , and
s p o n ta n e o u s ly a c t s to h e lp h e r . Anne and C a p ta in W entw orth a r e
c o n n e c te d by lo v e , w hich t u r n s o u t to mean a s te a d y p r o g r e s s o f
l i s t e n i n g and lo o k in g a t each o t h e r , t r y i n g to u n d e r s ta n d . They
a re som etim es wrong, as E liz a b e th Bennet i s about Mr. Darcy. But
th a t i s because they a re try in g not to hope too much, to cope w ith
363
th e p a in o f n o t b e in g lo v e d . Anne t h i n k s C a p ta in W entw orth i s
m e re ly k in d h e a r te d in U p p e rc ro ss and W in th ro p , w h ile C a p ta in
W entw orth t h i n k s Anne may be p e rsu a d e d by Lady R u s s e ll i n t o
m a rry in g Mr. E l l i o t . But t h e i r l i s t e n i n g and w o n d erin g f i n a l l y
b rin g them to g e th e r when F red erick Wentworth asks h i s q u e stio n s on
paper and Anne looks back a t him "and not r e p u ls iv e ly .” (239)
Anne and Captain Wentworth have achieved a love a t th e end o f
P e r s u a s io n w hich i s n o t b ased on th e r a v in g s and g u s h in g s o f
s e n t i m e n t a l la n g u a g e and u n p r in c ip l e d p r e c i p i t a n c e . They have
moved beyond the t r a d i t i o n a l conventions o f f i r s t love w ith in which
A usten s e t up t h e i r o r i g i n a l a t t r a c t i o n , w i t h i t s " l a v i s h
re c o m m e n d a tio n s" o f " h ig h e s t p e rfe c tio n " and " e x q u isite f e l i c i t y ."
Because t h e i r i n i t i a l love and se p a ra tio n were formed according to
th e s e n t i m e n t a l i d e a l o f ro m a n ce, th e n a r r a t o r t r e a t s th e e n t i r e
seq u en c e a s s e n t i m e n t a l f i c t i o n , a n o th e r " l i t t l e h i s t o r y " l i k e
C a p ta in B en w ic k 's, packed w ith c u l t u r a l l y - s t e r o t y p e d i d e a s ,
v o c a b u la r y , and a c t i o n s . But by th e end o f th e n o v e l, Anne and
Captain Wentworth have made to g e th e r an o r ig in a l co n n ectio n , where
th e y a r e m u tu a lly open to i n f l u e n c e , to p e r s u a s i o n , and a r e
a t t a c h e d to e x p e r ie n c e and to each o t h e r by d i s t i n c t l y p e r s o n a l
i m a g i n a t i o n s . T hat i s why i t i s s a f e f o r them a t th e end o f th e
n o v e l to t h i n k o f each o t h e r s ' c h a r a c t e r s a s " p e r f e c t i o n i t s e l f . "
(2M1) They have made up th e stan d a rd s them selves.
In P rid e and P re ju d ic e and P ersu asio n th e c u ltu r e 's inadequate
tre a tm e n t of women i s imaged in th e re p re s e n ta tiv e p a tr ia r c h s Mr.
364
Bennet and S ir W alter E l l i o t : c o rru p t, s e l f i s h , and in e p t f a th e rs
who i n j u r e th e women whom th e c u l t u r e p l a c e s , n o t in t h e i r c a r e ,
but under t h e i r power. Among th e next g e n e ra tio n the two beloved
men, F i t z w i l l i a m Darcy and F r e d e r ic k W en tw o rth , a l s o b e g in as
r e p re s e n ta tiv e s o f th e p r e v a ilin g p a tr ia r c h a l n o tio n s o f r e la tio n s
between women and men, but are ta u g h t to d isc a rd them by E liz a b e th
B ennet and Anne E l l i o t . These two men have to l e a r n b e t t e r
r e l a t i o n s to th e women th e y l o v e , whose lo v e th e y dream o f. Mr.
Darcy and Captain Wentworth a re th e two love i n t e r e s t s who le a r n to
r e j e c t as unworthy the u su al model o f h e te ro se x u a l love r e la tio n s
/
w hich o v e re m p h a s iz e s men’s n e e d s and n e g l e c t s women’s s e p a r a t e
d e s t i n i e s . P r i m a r i l y , t h i s means t h a t Mr. D arcy and C a p ta in
W entw orth m ust come to se e t h e i r fo rm e r aim s a s u n w o rth y . They
d isc o v e r th a t love cannot be the stan d ard m isogynist r e l a t io n of ”a
man and h i s c h o sen w i f e ," b u t, more s im p ly , j u s t two p e o p le who
c a r e a b o u t, w o rry a b o u t, and n e v e r t i r e o f l i s t e n i n g t o , each
o th e r. They le a rn to be more g r a te f u l than they were b e fo re , to be
loved by such s p e c ia l, such ta le n te d women, as E liz a b e th Bennet and
Anne E l l i o t .
/
Raised to take women's i n f e r i o r i t y f o r g ra n ted , Mr. Darcy and
Captain Wentworth le a rn not only t h a t E liza b e th and Anne deserve
every kind o f re sp e c t and a d m ira tio n , but they le a rn to be humbly
t h r i l l e d t h a t t h e s e women lo v e them . The b e lo v e d men have been
ta u g h t th a t d e s irin g the p ro ta g o n is ts as a s s e ts , ornam ents, or even
s h e e r c h a l l e n g e s , i s n o t enough; b o th l e a r n t h a t th e y w ould do
365
a n y th in g to h e lp t h e s e women whose w e lf a r e i s so d e a r . A u ste n 's
n o v e ls show t h i s in P r id e and P r e ju d i c e th ro u g h th e t h r i l l i n g
d is c o v e r y o f Mr. D a rc y 's g ra n d g e s t u r e : he h as b o ught Mr.
W ickham 's c o m m issio n and s e t t l e d th o u sa n d s o f pounds on L ydia
B ennet in o r d e r t h a t th e h a te d Mr. Wickham c o u ld become a f u t u r e
b ro th e r-in -la w . But she shows i t sim ply as w e ll, in P e rsu a sio n 's
m o re f a m i l i a r d r a m a : t h r o u g h C a p t a i n W e n t w o r t h ’s n e a r l y
u n c o n s c io u s a c t s o f c o n s i d e r a t i o n . He f r e e s Anne from l i t t l e
W alter and makes sure t h a t she i s d riv e n home from the long walk.
What h a s happened i s t h a t t h e s e m ale c h a r a c t e r s have le a r n e d to
n u rtu re , to sim ply care fo r th e w e ll-b ein g o f th e se women whom they
lo v e.
To women, t h a t i s what Austen o f f e r s : a v is io n o f a t t r a c t i v e
m en, w h o se a p p e a l r e s t s on how t h o r o u g h l y t h e y l o v e t h e
p r o t a g o n i s t s w i t h whom we e x p e r i e n c e t h e n o v e l s .
P rid e and P reju d ice and P ersuasion share a s tr u c tu r e in which the
main c h a ra c te rs spend a g r e a t d eal o f tim e n ear the men they love,
w o n d erin g i f th e lo v e th e y have r e f u s e d w i l l be ren ew ed . But
p a r t ic u la r l y , the novels dram atize an in te r p la y o f h e a r t - f e l t hope
and m irth in the suspense E liza b e th and Anne f e e l. For th e p r o m is e ^
Austen o f fe r s i s th a t our l iv e s w ill s t i l l be engaging even i f our
e r o tic r e la tio n s do not work o u t. In th e m eantime, what P ride and
P r e ju d ic e and P e r s u a s io n o f f e r to r e a d e r s i s th e p ro m is e o f such
people and such lo v e, and the encouragement not ev er to s e t t l e f o r/"
l e s s . A u ste n 's fe m in ism m eans hope. Her n o v e ls t e l l u s t h a t a t
366
th e l e a s t our liv e s w i l l be in t e r e s t i n g , and a t th e b e st we w i l l be
w ell loved by the people we love.
367
Notes
^Susan Morgan has shown in In th e Meantime; C h aracter and
P ercep tio n in Jane A usten's F ic tio n (Chicago: U n iv e rsity o f Chicago
P re ss, 1980) pp. 1-5, how t h i s t r a d i t i o n a l v e rsio n o f Austen cannot
a c c o u n t f o r th e n o v e ls o r t h e i r v a r i e t y . B e fo re M organ, t h r e e o f
A u ste n ’s s i x c o m p le te d n o v e ls had been considered ’’ex cep tio n s" to
th e A usten canon. M organ's r e a d in g i n c l u d e s a l l s i x b o o k s,
d em onstrating how Austen i s not a "co n serv ativ e C h ristia n m o ra lis t"
but in ste a d "is in n o v a tiv e in her thought," t h a t A usten's work "as
p r o p e r ly as W o rd sw o rth 's o r many o t h e r w r i t e r s ', y i e l d s th e
p h ilo s o p h ic m ind." M organ’s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n show s how th e te rm s
"irony," " s a tir e ," "re a lism ," and "conservatism " do an i n j u s t i c e to
A u sten 's im agination and h e r f i c t i o n s .
p
Morgan, In th e Meantime, p. 10.
^Nina Auerbach, "Jane Austen and Romantic Im prisonm ent," Jane
A usten i n a S o c ia l C o n te x t, ed. David Monaghan (T otow a, N.J.:
Barnes & Noble, 1981), p . 25.
^Nina Auerbach, "0 Brave New World: Evolution and R evolution
in P e rsu a sio n , " E nglish L ite ra ry H isto ry 39 (1972), p. 120.
^Morgan, In th e Meantime, p. 10, 83.
368
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