Humans are inherently selfish. We want the best deal we can get. And that goes for buying goods in the marketplace as well as in our friendships. Whether we are willing to admit it or not, rewards and costs play a significant role in the stability of our social relationships. Or more specifically, the balance of rewards and costs have a substantial impact on the continued existence of our relationships.
If a reward is anything positive incurred, and a cost is anything negative, then the outcome of our relationships is equivalent to the rewards of a relationship minus its costs. Most would assume that a good relationship would be one where the rewards exceed the costs, but this is not necessarily true. Steve Duck claims that over-benefiting from a relationship can be just as destructive as under-benefiting (Friends for Life, pp. 110). Those who are receiving more out of a relationship than they are putting into it may begin to feel guilty or awkward. Duck says, “When a relationship is not fair for both partners, it hits the rocks extremely hard …” (pp. 107). Clearly, a balance is key to the success of a relationship.
But a balance of rewards and costs does not mean each partner receives equal rewards and pays equal costs. Equity, in the social sense, is much more related to the Marxism concept of “from each according to his ability, to each according to his need.” In other words, as Adams says (1965) equity “exists when each person’s benefits from being in a group – his outputs relative to his inputs – are equal to every other person’s outputs relative to their inputs” (Sabini, p. 404). It is important to understand that equity is not equality. For example, when my friends and I got out for dinner, the equal thing to do would be to split the bill among the number dining, but the equitable thing to do would be for each person to pay the amount that his/her meal cost. It makes perfect sense that that I would not be willing to pay the equivalent of a steak dinner if I only ate a plate of breadsticks, but it is not something so easily considered in social relationships. Often we expect our friend or partner to do their equal share of the work, when really we are the ones benefiting the most. When I first moved in to our flat, I became discouraged because one girl never bothered to do the dishes, then I realized that she never used dishes, she always eats out or munches on crackers right out of the package. Therefore, it would not have been fair for me to expect her wash as many dishes as the rest of us.
This concept of fairness, or “returning good for good” is universal. All cultures see this form of social exchange as necessary (Brown, p. 54). Although the theory is common, the goods themselves may differ. Whereas in America we pay $20.00 for a shirt, in some countries one might exchange a few chickens for a top. In the Western world, costs and rewards may be more influential than in other countries. For instance, if someone feels that they are not receiving adequate rewards for the amount of costs of a relationship, one option is to simply get out. In other cultures, commitment carries more weight than equity. That is why some cultures do not have divorce. So although the exchange theory is felt throughout the world, it is not always carried out in the same way.
Prior to my arrival in England, I worked for six weeks as a waitress, mostly because I needed the money, but also because I felt that every girl should waitress at some point in her life. Before this occupation, I had always been somewhat annoyed with the whole tipping process. Why couldn’t the employer just pay servers a substantial amount and save us all from having to calculate the appropriate percent, or from the inconvenience of forgetting to include the tip in our mental assessment of an eating-out budget? Now, after having put my time in as a dining-servant (because that’s pretty much what we are), my ideas have altered. With the knowledge of an immediate reward of tips in the back of every waitress’ mind, they are, in most cases, more likely to serve with a smile and are more willing to accommodate the customer in any way possible. This experience taught me the true value of a customer.
Waitressing is a unique occupation in that, rather than your boss or employer assessing your work ethic and adjusting your wages accordingly, the customers evaluate your service, and the amount of money you make at the end of each night is directly dependent on how much you put in to your job. A waitress-customer relationship is clearly a good example of one based on costs and rewards. But restaurants and shops are not the only place where this plays a major role. In analyzing costs and rewards, friendships or romantic relationships may not be the first to come to mind, but they are very likely the most impacted by this type of social exchange.
Costs and rewards have their place even in the very beginning stages of friendship. Brehm states, “We are attracted to those whose presence is rewarding” (p. 68). But they also influence our decision to remain in a relationship or to go in search of another. Because humans are inherently selfish and always searching for the best possible deal, it is typically not unusual for someone to leave a good relationship for another one simply because it is better. That is not to say that one was discontent with the former relationship, but only that the alternative posed a much greater incentive. As Brehm also said, “People don’t divorce when they get unhappy; they divorce when their prospects … seem brighter elsewhere” (p. 161). With this in mind, Buunk (1987) suggests that in addition to high satisfaction and a low perceived quality of alternatives, the size of investment in the relationship is also an important factor to consider in commitment (Hewstone, p. 396).
One would assume that a person involved in a relationship where the costs far outweighed the goals, in an unhappy relationship, would soon leave. The closer one becomes to another, the more shared ideas and activities that exist between them, the more there is invested in the relationship. Investments are what tie individuals together, such as “investing time and energy, by making sacrifices, by developing mutual friends, by developing shared memories, and by engaging in activities, hobbies and possessions that are integrated in the relationship” (Hewstone, p. 396). The higher the level of investments in a relationship, the greater the commitment. Although this is usually regarded as a positive aspect of relationships, investments can have their drawbacks. One area of controversy in the study of relationships is how much investment should be allowed to influence commitment. Just as investments may be the means of keeping the nuclear family intact, they also play a large role in keeping unhealthy relationships together. For instance, women in abusive relationships are more likely to return to their partner, despite the abuse, simply because they have so much invested in the relationship.
It is easily understood that costs and rewards have a significant place in society. Humans want the greatest reward at the least cost in areas ranging from shopping and everyday business exchanges to intimate relationships. But the fact that there needs to be a balance, and an equitable balance at that, is often overlooked. In order for a relationship to be successful, each partner needs to be receiving an adequate reward in proportion to what they are putting into the relationship. Finally, it is not enough to consider only the amount of satisfaction and number of alternatives in assessing the quality of commitment, but one must also consider the value of investments when considering whether to continue with or terminate a relationship.
Brehm, Sharon. Intimate Relationships. Third edition. 2002.
Brown, Roger. Social Psychology: The Second Edition. 1986.
Hewstone, Mile. Introduction To Social Psychology. Third edition. 2001.
Duck, Steve. Friends for Life. The Harvester Press Limited: Sussex. 1983.
Sabini, John. Social Psychology. 1992.
Monday, November 29, 2004
Friday, November 26, 2004
Does research on friendship formation help us to understand close long-term relationships and vice versa?
In the study of relationships there are significant links between the formation of friendships and long-term relationships. Just as the creation of the foundation of a building can have long-term effects on the structure itself, so do the beginning stages of a friendship provide the groundwork for the future of that relationship. But that is not to say that a friendship’s beginning is always determinate of its outcome. The formation of a friendship is not a perfect indication of the future of that relationship, but studying the formation of friendships is an excellent way to better understand the friendships themselves. According to Hinde, “There is considerable evidence that the viability of friendships … is predictable quite early on” (pp. 467). And a description of the primacy effect draws similar conclusions. According to Brehm, information we receive about another person early on carries “special weight” in our general, lasting impression of them (pp. 96). Many would agree that first impressions play a considerable role in the formation of friendships, and thus the likelihood of their continuance. There are several factors to consider when developing first impressions.
Typically, the first step in any relationship is attraction. But Hewstone and Stroebe emphasize “the fact that attraction does not necessarily lead to friendship, but that friendship implies more, i.e., an interdependent relationship that includes a willingness to coordinate actions and to take the interests of the other into account” (pp. 381). In other words, attraction does not guarantee that the friendship will develop, but it is certainly a very good indication. There are several other factors that influence the outcome of an attraction. One is the environment (Hewstone, pp. 381). The simple fact that two individuals are sharing in one another’s presence increases their chances of forming a friendship. Brehm would also include convenience and familiarity in her assessment of proximity (pp. 690). The closer one is to another, and the greater number of meetings and amount of time one spends with another, enhance the likelihood of a friendship. A study done in Israel led to the development of similar conclusions. In dormitories that had private restrooms there was very low interaction among the students, whereas in dormitories where the restroom facilities are shared, the interaction was much greater, and more friendships were formed (Hewstone, pp. 381). I have found this to be true in my own university situation. Although the newer halls have nicer dorm rooms and private baths, the sense of community is much more pronounced in the older residence halls, where students must share toilets, showers and sinks. The newer residence halls at my home college also have a fire safety feature that causes dorm room doors to automatically shut if not propped open, which leads to many a hall of closed doors. The older residence hall doors can automatically stay open. Because of the increased visibility and interaction, more friendships are formed on these types of halls, and resident assistants like them because they are renowned for having good community. Halls with good community increase the probability of friendships being made on those halls, which are likely to last even after the students have moved out of those residence halls.
In addition to propinquity, similarity of attitudes is also a cause of friendship. We are often attracted to those who have similar attitudes, beliefs, standards, interests, situations, etc. in life. “According to social comparison theory, when comparing our opinions on new issues, we might benefit more from talking to others who hold the same attitudes as we do than from talking to others who hold quite different views” (Hewstone, pp. 383). Of course, there are those challenge-seekers who prefer to form relationships with those whose attitudes differ from their own in order to be made stronger. Or there are many individuals who prefer someone who will compliment, rather than mirror, oneself. For instance, in a study down by Dryer and Horowitz, dominant individuals were found to be “most satisfied interacting with individuals who were instructed to play a submissive role” and vice versa (Hewstone, pp. 385). This type of relationship is often found in the marriage context.
One of the best examples of propinquity and similarity in the formation of friendships that I have seen recently was among our group of Americans who came to Oxford to study this semester. Even though most of the 150 of us had never met before, friendships were formed rather quickly. This had to do with the fact that a.) we saw each other every day, nearly all day and b.) we were all American students who were being forced to cope with living in a foreign land. Even though many of the students in the group would not have attempted to form a friendship with the same people had we all been back at home, these two factors led to many intense, quickly-forming relationships. Intense because many felt it was necessary support for survival and quickly-forming because the only other option was isolation. Hewstone states, “We are social beings, and the presence of others, especially when they provide us with social support, can be crucially important when we are faced with adversity such as stress and illness” (pp. 371). In this case, our adversity was dealing with a culture and social norms much different than our own. The stress of “fitting in” forced many of the students to form friendships so as to avoid relying on the support of strangers. Although there have been many positive results of these friendships, one quandary is the hindrance it puts on the probability of the American students making friends with the British students. Because, after two weeks, most have settled in and formed their stable attachments, it is less likely for them to reach out to those who are new to their world.
Friendships are very difficult to define, because they vary according to different cultures. In the Western world, friendships are much more relaxed, “in other societies … friendship is institutionalized, and may be marked by ritual (e.g. blood brotherhoods) and require even more lasting commitment” (Hinde, pp. 412). Many cultures have much more rigid contexts for the formation of friendships. Friendships not only vary across cultures, but also across time. Because of the continuously changing nature of friendship, it is extremely complicated to form one general definition. One thing that is clear about friendship across cultures and time is its mutuality. All friendships require the support of both individuals involved.
In the West, it should be noted that most relationships are not entities, but processes “in continuous creation through dialectical relations with other levels of social complexity” (Hinde, pp. 477). Relationships require hard work and motivation for success. Recognizing relationships as continual processes increases the importance of first-impressions during the formation stages of friendships and the impact they can have on long-term relationships.
Typically, the first step in any relationship is attraction. But Hewstone and Stroebe emphasize “the fact that attraction does not necessarily lead to friendship, but that friendship implies more, i.e., an interdependent relationship that includes a willingness to coordinate actions and to take the interests of the other into account” (pp. 381). In other words, attraction does not guarantee that the friendship will develop, but it is certainly a very good indication. There are several other factors that influence the outcome of an attraction. One is the environment (Hewstone, pp. 381). The simple fact that two individuals are sharing in one another’s presence increases their chances of forming a friendship. Brehm would also include convenience and familiarity in her assessment of proximity (pp. 690). The closer one is to another, and the greater number of meetings and amount of time one spends with another, enhance the likelihood of a friendship. A study done in Israel led to the development of similar conclusions. In dormitories that had private restrooms there was very low interaction among the students, whereas in dormitories where the restroom facilities are shared, the interaction was much greater, and more friendships were formed (Hewstone, pp. 381). I have found this to be true in my own university situation. Although the newer halls have nicer dorm rooms and private baths, the sense of community is much more pronounced in the older residence halls, where students must share toilets, showers and sinks. The newer residence halls at my home college also have a fire safety feature that causes dorm room doors to automatically shut if not propped open, which leads to many a hall of closed doors. The older residence hall doors can automatically stay open. Because of the increased visibility and interaction, more friendships are formed on these types of halls, and resident assistants like them because they are renowned for having good community. Halls with good community increase the probability of friendships being made on those halls, which are likely to last even after the students have moved out of those residence halls.
In addition to propinquity, similarity of attitudes is also a cause of friendship. We are often attracted to those who have similar attitudes, beliefs, standards, interests, situations, etc. in life. “According to social comparison theory, when comparing our opinions on new issues, we might benefit more from talking to others who hold the same attitudes as we do than from talking to others who hold quite different views” (Hewstone, pp. 383). Of course, there are those challenge-seekers who prefer to form relationships with those whose attitudes differ from their own in order to be made stronger. Or there are many individuals who prefer someone who will compliment, rather than mirror, oneself. For instance, in a study down by Dryer and Horowitz, dominant individuals were found to be “most satisfied interacting with individuals who were instructed to play a submissive role” and vice versa (Hewstone, pp. 385). This type of relationship is often found in the marriage context.
One of the best examples of propinquity and similarity in the formation of friendships that I have seen recently was among our group of Americans who came to Oxford to study this semester. Even though most of the 150 of us had never met before, friendships were formed rather quickly. This had to do with the fact that a.) we saw each other every day, nearly all day and b.) we were all American students who were being forced to cope with living in a foreign land. Even though many of the students in the group would not have attempted to form a friendship with the same people had we all been back at home, these two factors led to many intense, quickly-forming relationships. Intense because many felt it was necessary support for survival and quickly-forming because the only other option was isolation. Hewstone states, “We are social beings, and the presence of others, especially when they provide us with social support, can be crucially important when we are faced with adversity such as stress and illness” (pp. 371). In this case, our adversity was dealing with a culture and social norms much different than our own. The stress of “fitting in” forced many of the students to form friendships so as to avoid relying on the support of strangers. Although there have been many positive results of these friendships, one quandary is the hindrance it puts on the probability of the American students making friends with the British students. Because, after two weeks, most have settled in and formed their stable attachments, it is less likely for them to reach out to those who are new to their world.
Friendships are very difficult to define, because they vary according to different cultures. In the Western world, friendships are much more relaxed, “in other societies … friendship is institutionalized, and may be marked by ritual (e.g. blood brotherhoods) and require even more lasting commitment” (Hinde, pp. 412). Many cultures have much more rigid contexts for the formation of friendships. Friendships not only vary across cultures, but also across time. Because of the continuously changing nature of friendship, it is extremely complicated to form one general definition. One thing that is clear about friendship across cultures and time is its mutuality. All friendships require the support of both individuals involved.
In the West, it should be noted that most relationships are not entities, but processes “in continuous creation through dialectical relations with other levels of social complexity” (Hinde, pp. 477). Relationships require hard work and motivation for success. Recognizing relationships as continual processes increases the importance of first-impressions during the formation stages of friendships and the impact they can have on long-term relationships.
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Why we still read Jane Austen in 2004
“It is a truth universally acknowledged” that Jane Austen was a great novelist, but she did not always command such respect. During the years of her writing, Austen often had difficulty getting her works published; two of her novels and several of her short works were published posthumously. Although her stories were certainly read then, they became even more popular long after her death. Now, over 200 years later, Jane Austen is a name familiar in almost every household. Her books have found their way into college classrooms and high school curriculums. Each one of her novels can be found on film, some even have several different renditions. So why do we continue to love Jane Austen in 2004? It is Austen’s timeless themes that continue to draw readers to her stories centuries after her books were first published. Although we no longer wear petticoats, have servants to light the fire each morning or travel by carriage, some things are the same in 2004 as they were in 1804.
One of Austen’s themes that we still deal with today is reason versus the passions. Even though the Enlightenment and the Romantic periods have long passed, humans will forever be struggling to control their emotions and live rationally. Like Marianne, many young girls hearts are led astray only to return wounded, yet wiser. Many young women can relate to Marianne’s pain over losing her first love and to Elinor’s conscience as she learns to exercise her reasoning and good judgment in situations that are nearly out of her control. Bombarded by television and film, and with access to the lives of movie stars and famous musicians, Austen’s readers are also aware of the trials of being led by their imaginations, like Catherine Morland, and the dangers that are involved with attempting to make life something more than it really is. Austen helps remind us that reality is where we all really want to live and of the fulfillment that can be found in leading a rational life. But there should be a balance. As one of Austen’s most beloved heroines, Elizabeth Bennet is also a character that contemporary readers can relate to. Like Elizabeth, many of us have been guilty of forming hasty judgments and relying too much on what we believe is good sense but what is better described as prejudice. Although we do not want to completely rely on our emotions, being too rational or misusing our reasonability might cause us to miss how we really feel.
Friendships and families similar to those of Austen’s characters are also alive and well today. Like Elizabeth Bennet or the Dashwood sisters, we are often embarrassed by our relations. Just about everyone will admit to having either a crazy aunt or a wayward cousin; and many youth are hesitant to bring their friends home to meet their parents. But also like Austen’s characters, even though we might disagree with our relatives or find some of them odd, we should still respect them and value their position in the family as a whole. Mrs. Dashwood seems to contribute more to her daughters’ sufferings than she does to alleviate them, but both girls remain loving and dutiful daughters. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet are often the cause of great humiliation to Jane and Elizabeth, almost costing the girls their marriages, but neither daughter fails to include them in weighty decisions or to seek their approval. Austen readers can also relate to the bond between sisters in her novels or the friendships her characters share. Like Elizabeth, many today have a Charlotte Lucas, a friend who we love and cherish despite her seemingly foolish decision; and like the Dashwood sisters or Anne Elliot, we also have acquaintances that we would prefer not to spend time with but do anyway, whether it is because it is our duty or because of mutual friends. Jane Austen reminds us that no matter how agreeable or disagreeable we find our family or friends, it would be difficult to live without them.
Jane Austen’s greatest theme, and the one that is most surprisingly still common today, is that of love and marriage. Relationships today are much different than they were 200 years ago, as are the lives of those that form them. Austen’s stories are about a young woman’s quest for a man who can love her unconditionally and provide for her safety and happiness, and they also tell of the trials and difficulties that arise from such a search. Today, the means of procuring such a match have altered greatly, but the underlying principles remain the same. Although men like Wickham or Willoughby may have their pleasure for a season, it’s the Darcy’s and the Brandon’s of this world that young girls are really searching for. Despite the ease with which modern society falls in and out of relationships, despite the increase of pre-marital sex and despite the rise of the divorce rate, young women are still looking for the lifelong love and stability that the heroines of Austen’s novels discover by the end of their stories.
Although much of Jane Austen’s stories may seem too traditional or outdated, her principles and themes are very contemporary. Centuries after the Enlightenment, young people continue to seek knowledge and wisdom, and they are still learning to control their passions and submit to sound judgment. Two hundred years after Austen’s novels were written, families and friendships still play an important role in our lives. Although, at times, they may be incredibly embarrassing, completely infuriating or totally useless, like Austen’s characters we still love them and appreciate what they do for us. Most importantly, even though love and romance have undergone extensive transformation over the past several centuries, their underlying principles remain the same. Despite what modern society or academic authorities try to tell us today, young men and women of 2004 are no different then those of 1804- they still long for a the perfect match of mind and heart and the love and stability inherent of this beautiful union of marriage.
One of Austen’s themes that we still deal with today is reason versus the passions. Even though the Enlightenment and the Romantic periods have long passed, humans will forever be struggling to control their emotions and live rationally. Like Marianne, many young girls hearts are led astray only to return wounded, yet wiser. Many young women can relate to Marianne’s pain over losing her first love and to Elinor’s conscience as she learns to exercise her reasoning and good judgment in situations that are nearly out of her control. Bombarded by television and film, and with access to the lives of movie stars and famous musicians, Austen’s readers are also aware of the trials of being led by their imaginations, like Catherine Morland, and the dangers that are involved with attempting to make life something more than it really is. Austen helps remind us that reality is where we all really want to live and of the fulfillment that can be found in leading a rational life. But there should be a balance. As one of Austen’s most beloved heroines, Elizabeth Bennet is also a character that contemporary readers can relate to. Like Elizabeth, many of us have been guilty of forming hasty judgments and relying too much on what we believe is good sense but what is better described as prejudice. Although we do not want to completely rely on our emotions, being too rational or misusing our reasonability might cause us to miss how we really feel.
Friendships and families similar to those of Austen’s characters are also alive and well today. Like Elizabeth Bennet or the Dashwood sisters, we are often embarrassed by our relations. Just about everyone will admit to having either a crazy aunt or a wayward cousin; and many youth are hesitant to bring their friends home to meet their parents. But also like Austen’s characters, even though we might disagree with our relatives or find some of them odd, we should still respect them and value their position in the family as a whole. Mrs. Dashwood seems to contribute more to her daughters’ sufferings than she does to alleviate them, but both girls remain loving and dutiful daughters. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet are often the cause of great humiliation to Jane and Elizabeth, almost costing the girls their marriages, but neither daughter fails to include them in weighty decisions or to seek their approval. Austen readers can also relate to the bond between sisters in her novels or the friendships her characters share. Like Elizabeth, many today have a Charlotte Lucas, a friend who we love and cherish despite her seemingly foolish decision; and like the Dashwood sisters or Anne Elliot, we also have acquaintances that we would prefer not to spend time with but do anyway, whether it is because it is our duty or because of mutual friends. Jane Austen reminds us that no matter how agreeable or disagreeable we find our family or friends, it would be difficult to live without them.
Jane Austen’s greatest theme, and the one that is most surprisingly still common today, is that of love and marriage. Relationships today are much different than they were 200 years ago, as are the lives of those that form them. Austen’s stories are about a young woman’s quest for a man who can love her unconditionally and provide for her safety and happiness, and they also tell of the trials and difficulties that arise from such a search. Today, the means of procuring such a match have altered greatly, but the underlying principles remain the same. Although men like Wickham or Willoughby may have their pleasure for a season, it’s the Darcy’s and the Brandon’s of this world that young girls are really searching for. Despite the ease with which modern society falls in and out of relationships, despite the increase of pre-marital sex and despite the rise of the divorce rate, young women are still looking for the lifelong love and stability that the heroines of Austen’s novels discover by the end of their stories.
Although much of Jane Austen’s stories may seem too traditional or outdated, her principles and themes are very contemporary. Centuries after the Enlightenment, young people continue to seek knowledge and wisdom, and they are still learning to control their passions and submit to sound judgment. Two hundred years after Austen’s novels were written, families and friendships still play an important role in our lives. Although, at times, they may be incredibly embarrassing, completely infuriating or totally useless, like Austen’s characters we still love them and appreciate what they do for us. Most importantly, even though love and romance have undergone extensive transformation over the past several centuries, their underlying principles remain the same. Despite what modern society or academic authorities try to tell us today, young men and women of 2004 are no different then those of 1804- they still long for a the perfect match of mind and heart and the love and stability inherent of this beautiful union of marriage.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Parents and Parenting in Sense and Sensibility
In reading Jane Austen’s works, it soon becomes apparent that the parents of her heroines are either dead, such as Emma’s and Anne’s mothers or the Dashwood sister’s father; absent for much of the time, such as Sir Walter Eliot or Catherine’s Uncle Bertram; or very silly or incompetent, such as Mrs. Bennet or Mr. Woodhouse. In fact, it is not only the parents, but the majority of the adults in her novels that are portrayed in this way. Austen’s main characters are often independent and self-governed, they rely very little on parental guidance. If a child should happen to emulate one of her parents, it usually ends in disaster, such as Mrs. Bennet allowing Lydia to indulge in flirtatious behavior and follow the military around like she used to when she was Lydia’s age, or Mrs. Morland helping fuel her daughters love for Gothic-romance novels. In several of Austen’s novels, it is the daughter who directs her parents- Elizabeth attempts to dissuade her father from allowing Lydia to travel with the military and Anne helps her father to organize his finances. Sense and Sensibility is an Austen novel where the reader can see the danger of faulty parenting and over-indulgence. It also shows a daughter who is forced to sometimes act in her mother’s place and is often the one who makes the important decisions.
The opening of Sense and Sensibility offers the reader sketches of the two heroines and their mother. We are immediately aware of the disparity between Elinor and Marianne and where their mother tends to lean. Elinor has “a strength of understanding and coolness of judgment” and even though she is only nineteen, she is qualified to be the counselor of her mother (p. 24). Mrs. Dashwood is said to have a very eager mind, which usually leads to imprudence, but it is Elinor who counteracts that and brings order and control to the Dashwood family (p. 24). Like her mother and sister, Elinor is affectionate and possesses strong feelings, but unlike her mother and sister, she knows how to govern them (p. 24). In describing Marianne, Austen is also describing her Mrs. Dashwood, whom Marianne takes after. Both are “eager in everything;” both their “sorrows and joys have no moderation,” and despite being “generous, amiable, interesting” neither are very prudent (p. 24). It soon becomes clear that it is Elinor’s wisdom and good judgment that carries the family.
It is Elinor who is concerned with her sister’s sensibility, where “by Mrs. Dashwood it [is] valued and cherished” (p. 24). Because Mrs. Dashwood and her middle child are so much alike, they often encourage “each other … in the violence of their affection” (p. 24). Elinor, too, is afflicted by her father’s death, but “she could exert herself.” It is Elinor who takes over the household duties, such as receiving her family and giving them proper attention and finding a suitable living for them once they leave Norland. And it is Elinor who tries to encourage her mother to do the same. Almost immediately upon opening the book, the reader understands that Mrs. Dashwood is not to be considered a model mother, and Elinor is the one who will act as this figure.
As the story continues, the reader becomes aware of the amount of influence Mrs. Dashwood has on her middle daughter. Early in the novel, Mrs. Dashwood tells Elinor that she “can feel no sentiment of approbation inferior to love” (p. 32), and as Marianne can feel no emotion but in excess, she is the same way. Because they are so similar, Mrs. Dashwood is unable to restrain the feelings and behavior in Marianne that, in the future, nearly cause her death. Once Marianne had met Willoughby, she “abhorred all concealment where no real disgrace could attend unreserved; and to aim at the restraint of sentiments which were not in themselves illaudable appeared to her not merely an unnecessary effort but a disgraceful subjection of reason to commonplace and mistaken notions” (p. 61). Mrs. Dashwood responds by entering “into all their feelings with a warmth which left her no inclination for checking this excessive display of them” (p. 61). In fact, “whatever Marianne was desirous of, her mother would be eager to promote” (p. 137). Had Mrs. Dashwood not been blinded by her own sentiments and had she attempted to exercise parental control over her daughters behavior, especially towards Willoughby, the entire family might have been saved from a lot of pain.
Sense and Sensibility is often considered a novel of the education of a young woman, the story of Marianne Dashwood becoming an adult, but Marianne is not the only character who learns a difficult lesson, her mother is also forced to endure the same education. Once Marianne recovers from her illness her mother realizes that, “Marianne was restored to her from a danger in which, as she now began to feel, her own mistaken judgment in encouraging the unfortunate attachment to Willoughby had contributed to place her” (p. 280). But the reader should not suppose that Mrs. Dashwood has undergone too considerable an alteration, only a few paragraphs later Elinor finds that her mother can still employ her active imagination, which often makes everything more delightful than it is in reality (p. 281). Her first object, to see her daughters well married, is still present in her mind. Although we are never sure if Mrs. Dashwood becomes as sensible as Marianne does by the end of the story, considering the similarity of their minds, it is certain that Marianne’s mother was affected to some degree by her daughter’s distress and brush with death.
Like many other mothers of her time, Mrs. Dashwood is concerned with her daughters future, specifically that they marry well. But unlike other mothers, she is not interested in her future sons-in-law’s fortune or situation, for Edward “it was enough for her that he appeared to be amiable, that he loved her daughter, and that Elinor returned the partiality” (p. 31). And even though Mrs. Dashwood and her eldest daughter differ considerably, she truly believes in Elinor’s merit and wishes for everyone else to recognize her virtues too (p. 31). Despite their disagreements, Elinor shows the same respect towards her mother. When Mrs. Jennings invites the girls to London, she is unwilling to leave her mother until she is persuaded by her to do so. She also refrains from making decisions until after she has sought her mother’s counsel, such as when Marianne wishes to leave London and return home. Even though Marianne would rather go home to Barton, when her mother suggests that she stay in London she willingly submits (p. 184). Although their mother may not always display the best judgment or control over her feelings, her daughters still treat her with respect, value her opinion and appreciate her counsel.
Jane Austen’s stories tend to focus on a young woman who undergoes various trials and experiences before blossoming into a respectable adult. It is interesting that none of her heroines have the advantage of exemplary parents who can offer needed guidance, especially during the most crucial times of their daughter’s development. Like other parents in Jane Austen’s novels, Mrs. Dashwood can offer little assistance to either of her daughters as they experience the trials of love. In fact, Marianne’s mother often only adds to her distress, by encouraging her to indulge in the very sentiments that cause her to suffer even further. Despite the fact that Mrs. Dashwood is the older, more experienced adult she, too, must undergo the same difficult education as her daughters and learn the same life lessons with them. Elinor must often play the role of parent, but her and Marianne still show the same love and respect towards Mrs. Dashwood that she deserves as a mother.
The opening of Sense and Sensibility offers the reader sketches of the two heroines and their mother. We are immediately aware of the disparity between Elinor and Marianne and where their mother tends to lean. Elinor has “a strength of understanding and coolness of judgment” and even though she is only nineteen, she is qualified to be the counselor of her mother (p. 24). Mrs. Dashwood is said to have a very eager mind, which usually leads to imprudence, but it is Elinor who counteracts that and brings order and control to the Dashwood family (p. 24). Like her mother and sister, Elinor is affectionate and possesses strong feelings, but unlike her mother and sister, she knows how to govern them (p. 24). In describing Marianne, Austen is also describing her Mrs. Dashwood, whom Marianne takes after. Both are “eager in everything;” both their “sorrows and joys have no moderation,” and despite being “generous, amiable, interesting” neither are very prudent (p. 24). It soon becomes clear that it is Elinor’s wisdom and good judgment that carries the family.
It is Elinor who is concerned with her sister’s sensibility, where “by Mrs. Dashwood it [is] valued and cherished” (p. 24). Because Mrs. Dashwood and her middle child are so much alike, they often encourage “each other … in the violence of their affection” (p. 24). Elinor, too, is afflicted by her father’s death, but “she could exert herself.” It is Elinor who takes over the household duties, such as receiving her family and giving them proper attention and finding a suitable living for them once they leave Norland. And it is Elinor who tries to encourage her mother to do the same. Almost immediately upon opening the book, the reader understands that Mrs. Dashwood is not to be considered a model mother, and Elinor is the one who will act as this figure.
As the story continues, the reader becomes aware of the amount of influence Mrs. Dashwood has on her middle daughter. Early in the novel, Mrs. Dashwood tells Elinor that she “can feel no sentiment of approbation inferior to love” (p. 32), and as Marianne can feel no emotion but in excess, she is the same way. Because they are so similar, Mrs. Dashwood is unable to restrain the feelings and behavior in Marianne that, in the future, nearly cause her death. Once Marianne had met Willoughby, she “abhorred all concealment where no real disgrace could attend unreserved; and to aim at the restraint of sentiments which were not in themselves illaudable appeared to her not merely an unnecessary effort but a disgraceful subjection of reason to commonplace and mistaken notions” (p. 61). Mrs. Dashwood responds by entering “into all their feelings with a warmth which left her no inclination for checking this excessive display of them” (p. 61). In fact, “whatever Marianne was desirous of, her mother would be eager to promote” (p. 137). Had Mrs. Dashwood not been blinded by her own sentiments and had she attempted to exercise parental control over her daughters behavior, especially towards Willoughby, the entire family might have been saved from a lot of pain.
Sense and Sensibility is often considered a novel of the education of a young woman, the story of Marianne Dashwood becoming an adult, but Marianne is not the only character who learns a difficult lesson, her mother is also forced to endure the same education. Once Marianne recovers from her illness her mother realizes that, “Marianne was restored to her from a danger in which, as she now began to feel, her own mistaken judgment in encouraging the unfortunate attachment to Willoughby had contributed to place her” (p. 280). But the reader should not suppose that Mrs. Dashwood has undergone too considerable an alteration, only a few paragraphs later Elinor finds that her mother can still employ her active imagination, which often makes everything more delightful than it is in reality (p. 281). Her first object, to see her daughters well married, is still present in her mind. Although we are never sure if Mrs. Dashwood becomes as sensible as Marianne does by the end of the story, considering the similarity of their minds, it is certain that Marianne’s mother was affected to some degree by her daughter’s distress and brush with death.
Like many other mothers of her time, Mrs. Dashwood is concerned with her daughters future, specifically that they marry well. But unlike other mothers, she is not interested in her future sons-in-law’s fortune or situation, for Edward “it was enough for her that he appeared to be amiable, that he loved her daughter, and that Elinor returned the partiality” (p. 31). And even though Mrs. Dashwood and her eldest daughter differ considerably, she truly believes in Elinor’s merit and wishes for everyone else to recognize her virtues too (p. 31). Despite their disagreements, Elinor shows the same respect towards her mother. When Mrs. Jennings invites the girls to London, she is unwilling to leave her mother until she is persuaded by her to do so. She also refrains from making decisions until after she has sought her mother’s counsel, such as when Marianne wishes to leave London and return home. Even though Marianne would rather go home to Barton, when her mother suggests that she stay in London she willingly submits (p. 184). Although their mother may not always display the best judgment or control over her feelings, her daughters still treat her with respect, value her opinion and appreciate her counsel.
Jane Austen’s stories tend to focus on a young woman who undergoes various trials and experiences before blossoming into a respectable adult. It is interesting that none of her heroines have the advantage of exemplary parents who can offer needed guidance, especially during the most crucial times of their daughter’s development. Like other parents in Jane Austen’s novels, Mrs. Dashwood can offer little assistance to either of her daughters as they experience the trials of love. In fact, Marianne’s mother often only adds to her distress, by encouraging her to indulge in the very sentiments that cause her to suffer even further. Despite the fact that Mrs. Dashwood is the older, more experienced adult she, too, must undergo the same difficult education as her daughters and learn the same life lessons with them. Elinor must often play the role of parent, but her and Marianne still show the same love and respect towards Mrs. Dashwood that she deserves as a mother.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Was Jane Austen a Feminist?
Prior to the beginning of the nineteenth century, it was believed that women were inferior to men both physically and intellectually. Entrapped by law, tradition and religion, women were forced into a position of subjection. Unable to own property, conduct business or vote, women had no other choice than to rely on those who could, their human counterparts- men. The close of the eighteenth century and the French Revolution brought about a rise in the demand for women’s liberty and equality, which carried through the following centuries, even until the present. Feminism was the term given to this “movement for the political, social and educational equality of women with men” (encyclopedia.com), and during this time we can begin to see evidence of these revolutionary ideas in women’s writings.
During this period, Jane Austen wrote her six main novels that focus on the same theme: love and marriage, particularly among women. It is no surprise then that Austen’s views on feminism have come in to question. Scholars and critics alike have argued that Austen was indeed a feminist, her writings offer clear proof, while others just as adamantly oppose such accusations, saying that Austen was a moralist and a conservative. In order to determine Austen’s stance on this subject, one must take a close look at her novels, such as Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, along with other novels and women writers of that time. Feminism has come a long way since the 1800s, and therefore it is also necessary to gain an understanding of what aspects of this movement were present during the time period Austen wrote in, and how these developments might have affected her writing. In this case, one of the best authors to compare Austen with is Mary Wollstonecraft. Considered by many as a founder of feminism, Wollstonecraft also wrote during the late eighteenth, and quite possibly influenced Austen and her writings.
In her essay, “A Vindication of the Rights of Women,” Wollstonecraft creates her case for the mistreatment of females and offers suggestions for the liberation of her sex. One theme that both Wollstonecraft and Austen share is that of marriage. Austen’s stories are all quite similar, starting with young females who, having become adults, are in want of a husband, and ending with the marriage of the young lady and the man whom she has finally procured. Wollstonecraft views marriage differently. She acknowledges that women “spend many of the first years of their lives in acquiring a smattering of accomplishments; meanwhile strength of body and mind are sacrificed to libertine notions of beauty, to the desire of establishing themselves – the only way women can rise in the world, - by marriage” (p. 86). While Austen’s novels tend to epitomize marriage as a happy ending to the trials of youth, Wollstonecraft feels that many women waste their time in preparing for an institution that will only increase their oppression.
In Jane Austen and the War of Ideas, Marilyn Butler explains the importance of emotion in novels when she says, “All agree that the stress on feeling rather than on reason, and on fine sensation rather than on activity, hold particular dangers for women, since, by encouraging passivity, it leads easily to submission (p. 43). Wollstonecraft would agree, as she says in “Thoughts on the Education of Daughters”, “Feeling is ridiculous when affected, and even when felt, ought not to be displayed” (p. 30). When thinking of Austen’s “feeling” characters, Marianne Dashwood is the first to come to mind. By the end of Sense and Sensibility, the reader understands that to allow oneself to be led by one’s emotions and feelings only leads to destruction. Like Marianne, we learn to behave like Elinor, who is able to exert herself to act rationally in spite of what she feels. Although Elinor behaves in a manner nearly opposite of the sentimental Marianne, she is certainly not considered a feminist character. Even though both Austen and Wollstonecraft do not believe that women should allow themselves to be overcome with emotion, Wollstonecraft sees it as a means of liberating women from an oppressed lifestyle of wrong education, whereas Austen views the rational life as what is natural and how women have been meant to behave all their lives.
As the most forward and independent of Austen’s heroines, Elizabeth Bennet is often cited as being a feminist character. In fact, Deborah Kaplan ventures to say, “Elizabeth’s outrageous unconventionality which, judged by the standards set in conduct books and in conservative fiction, constantly verges not merely on impertinence but on impropriety” (p. 185) and claims that Elizabeth plays a dominating role in which “she refuses the silence and subordination marked out for women” (p. 186). But can we say that Elizabeth is rebelling against the confines of her society, or only acting in accordance with her distinctive personality? Marilyn Butler states, “Elizabeth prides herself on her individualism and trusts her perceptions, never recognizing that her judgments are really grounded in her feelings” (p. 209). If this is the case, then Elizabeth is behaving no differently from Lydia, who also bases her actions on her emotions. Wollstonecraft condemns women when “their thoughts turn on things calculated to excite emotion and feeling, when they should reason, their conduct is unstable, and their opinions wavering – not the wavering produced by deliberation or progressive views, but by contradicting emotions” (p. 97). Women such as this, women like Lydia, end up in “a mixture of madness and folly” when “the passions [are] thus pampered, whilst the judgment is left unformed” (p. 98). Thus, the difference between Elizabeth and Lydia, the disparity that allows one to gain the advantage over the other, is Elizabeth’s acquired ability to reason. It would seem once again that Elizabeth is a child of Wollstonecraft’s ideas, but it must also be understood that Elizabeth did not become rational until after she was humbled by Darcy, and once rational she still chooses to marry him. Since Elizabeth readily attributes her new abilities to her future husband, even claiming to be “the happiest creature in the world” (p. 319) despite her impending marriage and life of submission, it would be difficult to consider her a feminist.
Although Elizabeth is not considered a conventional female for her period, in time she learns to value Darcy and, like Catherine in Northanger Abbey, to learn from her husband-to-be. But unlike we see in Northanger Abbey, Elizabeth and Darcy learn from each other, and even share a mutual esteem for one another. Like Wollstonecraft says in “Thoughts on the Education of Daughters,” “Love, unsupported by esteem, must soon expire, or lead to depravity; as, on the contrary, when a worthy person is the object, it is the greatest incentive to improvement, and has the best effect on manners and temper” (p. 35). Even Mr. Bennet shows an understanding for his daughter when he says, “I know you could neither be happy nor respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband, unless you looked up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage (p. 314). According to Mr. Bennet, and in turn Austen, an “equal” marriage, or a good one, means a wife must submit to her husband. And yet Austen also believes that it is important for both husband and wife to respect one another’s ideas and opinions, but we do not see Elizabeth attempting to dominate as she did earlier in the novel. She has now learned to submit to and come under the leadership of her husband, while still gaining his love and respect.
Unlike Wollstonecraft, Austen believes that marriage is the fulfillment of many a young girl’s destiny. Gilbert and Gubar “concede that, as a prudent gesture of apparent submission, Austen ends each novel with the heroine’s symbolic choice of a hero plainly destined to be the dominant partner in the marriage, while the heroine remains confined in the home” (Butler, p. xxx). Submission seems to be another theme in Austen’s novels. Wollstonecraft feels that “when education has been neglected, the mind improves itself, if it has leisure for reflection, and experience to reflect on; but how can this happen when [women] are forced to act before they have had time to think, or find that they are unhappily married” (“Thoughts on the …”, p. 36). Wollstonecraft believes in learning on one’s own and on women not being forced against their will, while conservative novelists, “stressed the importance of submitting to the guidance of a wise elderly mentor rather than to the example of books, or, worst of all, to the dictates of passion” (Butler, p. 95). Although Austen’s novels do not usually contain “a wise elderly mentor,” she is an advocate of discipline and self-denial, and her characters are apt to submit to someone of higher understanding, typically the men they end up marrying.
As Tony Tanner says in Jane Austen, many of her heroines “manifest a ‘spirit of independence’ when subject to varying degrees of coercion or persuasion” (p. 33), but that is not to say that they are rebelling against society, rather Tanner compares Austen with Hannah Moore when she “asserts that the best kind of woman is ‘one who can reason and reflect, and feel and judge and discourse, and discriminate’, and that the most important quality or ability in a woman is the power to direct ‘the faculties of the understanding … and all the qualities of the heart, to keep their proper places and due bounds, to observe their just proportions and maintain their right station, relation, order and dependency’” (p. 34). Although Austen’s women are able to be rational and govern their own lives, they are also willing to submit to the social standards of propriety and womanly duty.
In comparing Austen and Wollstonecraft, it is clear that both authors think in a similar manner, and that their works have some overlapping ideas; but it is also important to note a major difference between these two women authors. While Austen may exemplify the oppression of women that Wollstonecraft is fighting against, she does not offer a resolution. Wollstonecraft is acting against society, while Austen is only portraying it. Austen’s heroines may reveal the sense of entrapment that Wollstonecraft discusses, and may even show somewhat of a rebellion against those standards of society, but in the end they find a happy existence within those principles- in marriage. We may find Austen’s novels useful in supporting Wollstonecraft’s, and other early feminist’s, ideas, but there is one thing lacking. Although Austen and Wollstonecraft have similar ideas, the main difference, the one that makes Austen not a feminist, is her unwillingness to actively oppose the institutions that many feminists find oppressive, or to pose a solution to what Wollstonecraft would refer to as the “oppression of women.”
Butler, Marilyn. Jane Austen and the War of Ideas. 1987.
Kaplan, Deborah. Jane Austen Among Women. 1992.
Tanner, Tony. Jane Austen. 1986.
Todd, Jane. A Wollstonecraft Anthology. 1989.
During this period, Jane Austen wrote her six main novels that focus on the same theme: love and marriage, particularly among women. It is no surprise then that Austen’s views on feminism have come in to question. Scholars and critics alike have argued that Austen was indeed a feminist, her writings offer clear proof, while others just as adamantly oppose such accusations, saying that Austen was a moralist and a conservative. In order to determine Austen’s stance on this subject, one must take a close look at her novels, such as Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, along with other novels and women writers of that time. Feminism has come a long way since the 1800s, and therefore it is also necessary to gain an understanding of what aspects of this movement were present during the time period Austen wrote in, and how these developments might have affected her writing. In this case, one of the best authors to compare Austen with is Mary Wollstonecraft. Considered by many as a founder of feminism, Wollstonecraft also wrote during the late eighteenth, and quite possibly influenced Austen and her writings.
In her essay, “A Vindication of the Rights of Women,” Wollstonecraft creates her case for the mistreatment of females and offers suggestions for the liberation of her sex. One theme that both Wollstonecraft and Austen share is that of marriage. Austen’s stories are all quite similar, starting with young females who, having become adults, are in want of a husband, and ending with the marriage of the young lady and the man whom she has finally procured. Wollstonecraft views marriage differently. She acknowledges that women “spend many of the first years of their lives in acquiring a smattering of accomplishments; meanwhile strength of body and mind are sacrificed to libertine notions of beauty, to the desire of establishing themselves – the only way women can rise in the world, - by marriage” (p. 86). While Austen’s novels tend to epitomize marriage as a happy ending to the trials of youth, Wollstonecraft feels that many women waste their time in preparing for an institution that will only increase their oppression.
In Jane Austen and the War of Ideas, Marilyn Butler explains the importance of emotion in novels when she says, “All agree that the stress on feeling rather than on reason, and on fine sensation rather than on activity, hold particular dangers for women, since, by encouraging passivity, it leads easily to submission (p. 43). Wollstonecraft would agree, as she says in “Thoughts on the Education of Daughters”, “Feeling is ridiculous when affected, and even when felt, ought not to be displayed” (p. 30). When thinking of Austen’s “feeling” characters, Marianne Dashwood is the first to come to mind. By the end of Sense and Sensibility, the reader understands that to allow oneself to be led by one’s emotions and feelings only leads to destruction. Like Marianne, we learn to behave like Elinor, who is able to exert herself to act rationally in spite of what she feels. Although Elinor behaves in a manner nearly opposite of the sentimental Marianne, she is certainly not considered a feminist character. Even though both Austen and Wollstonecraft do not believe that women should allow themselves to be overcome with emotion, Wollstonecraft sees it as a means of liberating women from an oppressed lifestyle of wrong education, whereas Austen views the rational life as what is natural and how women have been meant to behave all their lives.
As the most forward and independent of Austen’s heroines, Elizabeth Bennet is often cited as being a feminist character. In fact, Deborah Kaplan ventures to say, “Elizabeth’s outrageous unconventionality which, judged by the standards set in conduct books and in conservative fiction, constantly verges not merely on impertinence but on impropriety” (p. 185) and claims that Elizabeth plays a dominating role in which “she refuses the silence and subordination marked out for women” (p. 186). But can we say that Elizabeth is rebelling against the confines of her society, or only acting in accordance with her distinctive personality? Marilyn Butler states, “Elizabeth prides herself on her individualism and trusts her perceptions, never recognizing that her judgments are really grounded in her feelings” (p. 209). If this is the case, then Elizabeth is behaving no differently from Lydia, who also bases her actions on her emotions. Wollstonecraft condemns women when “their thoughts turn on things calculated to excite emotion and feeling, when they should reason, their conduct is unstable, and their opinions wavering – not the wavering produced by deliberation or progressive views, but by contradicting emotions” (p. 97). Women such as this, women like Lydia, end up in “a mixture of madness and folly” when “the passions [are] thus pampered, whilst the judgment is left unformed” (p. 98). Thus, the difference between Elizabeth and Lydia, the disparity that allows one to gain the advantage over the other, is Elizabeth’s acquired ability to reason. It would seem once again that Elizabeth is a child of Wollstonecraft’s ideas, but it must also be understood that Elizabeth did not become rational until after she was humbled by Darcy, and once rational she still chooses to marry him. Since Elizabeth readily attributes her new abilities to her future husband, even claiming to be “the happiest creature in the world” (p. 319) despite her impending marriage and life of submission, it would be difficult to consider her a feminist.
Although Elizabeth is not considered a conventional female for her period, in time she learns to value Darcy and, like Catherine in Northanger Abbey, to learn from her husband-to-be. But unlike we see in Northanger Abbey, Elizabeth and Darcy learn from each other, and even share a mutual esteem for one another. Like Wollstonecraft says in “Thoughts on the Education of Daughters,” “Love, unsupported by esteem, must soon expire, or lead to depravity; as, on the contrary, when a worthy person is the object, it is the greatest incentive to improvement, and has the best effect on manners and temper” (p. 35). Even Mr. Bennet shows an understanding for his daughter when he says, “I know you could neither be happy nor respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband, unless you looked up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage (p. 314). According to Mr. Bennet, and in turn Austen, an “equal” marriage, or a good one, means a wife must submit to her husband. And yet Austen also believes that it is important for both husband and wife to respect one another’s ideas and opinions, but we do not see Elizabeth attempting to dominate as she did earlier in the novel. She has now learned to submit to and come under the leadership of her husband, while still gaining his love and respect.
Unlike Wollstonecraft, Austen believes that marriage is the fulfillment of many a young girl’s destiny. Gilbert and Gubar “concede that, as a prudent gesture of apparent submission, Austen ends each novel with the heroine’s symbolic choice of a hero plainly destined to be the dominant partner in the marriage, while the heroine remains confined in the home” (Butler, p. xxx). Submission seems to be another theme in Austen’s novels. Wollstonecraft feels that “when education has been neglected, the mind improves itself, if it has leisure for reflection, and experience to reflect on; but how can this happen when [women] are forced to act before they have had time to think, or find that they are unhappily married” (“Thoughts on the …”, p. 36). Wollstonecraft believes in learning on one’s own and on women not being forced against their will, while conservative novelists, “stressed the importance of submitting to the guidance of a wise elderly mentor rather than to the example of books, or, worst of all, to the dictates of passion” (Butler, p. 95). Although Austen’s novels do not usually contain “a wise elderly mentor,” she is an advocate of discipline and self-denial, and her characters are apt to submit to someone of higher understanding, typically the men they end up marrying.
As Tony Tanner says in Jane Austen, many of her heroines “manifest a ‘spirit of independence’ when subject to varying degrees of coercion or persuasion” (p. 33), but that is not to say that they are rebelling against society, rather Tanner compares Austen with Hannah Moore when she “asserts that the best kind of woman is ‘one who can reason and reflect, and feel and judge and discourse, and discriminate’, and that the most important quality or ability in a woman is the power to direct ‘the faculties of the understanding … and all the qualities of the heart, to keep their proper places and due bounds, to observe their just proportions and maintain their right station, relation, order and dependency’” (p. 34). Although Austen’s women are able to be rational and govern their own lives, they are also willing to submit to the social standards of propriety and womanly duty.
In comparing Austen and Wollstonecraft, it is clear that both authors think in a similar manner, and that their works have some overlapping ideas; but it is also important to note a major difference between these two women authors. While Austen may exemplify the oppression of women that Wollstonecraft is fighting against, she does not offer a resolution. Wollstonecraft is acting against society, while Austen is only portraying it. Austen’s heroines may reveal the sense of entrapment that Wollstonecraft discusses, and may even show somewhat of a rebellion against those standards of society, but in the end they find a happy existence within those principles- in marriage. We may find Austen’s novels useful in supporting Wollstonecraft’s, and other early feminist’s, ideas, but there is one thing lacking. Although Austen and Wollstonecraft have similar ideas, the main difference, the one that makes Austen not a feminist, is her unwillingness to actively oppose the institutions that many feminists find oppressive, or to pose a solution to what Wollstonecraft would refer to as the “oppression of women.”
Butler, Marilyn. Jane Austen and the War of Ideas. 1987.
Kaplan, Deborah. Jane Austen Among Women. 1992.
Tanner, Tony. Jane Austen. 1986.
Todd, Jane. A Wollstonecraft Anthology. 1989.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Jane Austen as a Product of the Enlightenment
Throughout the mid- and late-eighteenth century, England experienced a time of restoration, which was also known as "The Age of Reason" or "The Enlightenment." During this time, literature evolved into the mocking or satirical and tended to focus on “natural description, philosophical meditation and personal introspection” (Rogers, p. 244). Those influenced by this age relied on the rational and one’s personal ability to control one's emotions. It was a time of "belief in natural law, universal order, and confidence in human reason" (encyclopedia.com). By employing reason and science, humans were able to take a realistic and actual approach to truth and social issues. It was also a time of the moral and progressive individual, eager to learn and become enlightened. Jane Austen grew up during the Enlightenment and judging by her writings, one can assume that she and her novels are products of this movement.
Northanger Abbey has been widely recognized as an anti-Gothic romance novel but what that implies is rarely discussed. In refusing to take part in the latest literary trend, Austen is not necessarily creating a new genre. Clearly, in choosing not to be a romantic novel, Northanger Abbey is a product of the previous age- the Enlightenment. Through the story of Catherine Morland, Austen attempts to show her readers that it is only through real life experience and the quest for knowledge that a person can truly grow and develop into a wholesome and virtuous creature. In avoiding all the excitement of mystery and suspense, the novel portrays the harsh, and at times dull, truth of reality.
This is the same reality that Catherine finds so wearisome in history books; “invention is what delights [her] in other books” (p. 123). Even though she knows it is “right and necessary” to read history books, she finds it tormenting (p. 124). Throughout the novel, readers are aware of Catherine’s knowledge of “right” and “wrong,” and her struggle to reason between the two. As Catherine grows and becomes further enlightened, she becomes aware of the shame of her ignorance, a shame that is said to be “misplaced” because, “Where people wish to attach, they should always be ignorant. To come with a well-informed mind is to come with an inability of administering to the vanity of others, which a sensible person would always wish to avoid. A woman especially, if she have the misfortune of knowing any thing, should conceal it as well as she can” (p. 125). But in the true spirit of the Reformation hero, Tilney admires a woman for her “moral and supportive qualities” and noticing a lack of education “wishes to raise [her] standard of knowledge” (Rogers, pp. 229-230). He says, “The mere habit of learning to love is the thing; and a teachableness of disposition in a young lady is a great blessing” (p. 179). Rather than being content in her ignorance, Catherine sees all that is to be gained in an acquaintance with someone of Tilney’s knowledge and desires to learn more. Like other Enlightenment characters, Catherine sees the advantage of reason and knowledge in a world in which there is so much to learn and know; and readers can be content in the knowledge that despite her romantic tendencies, Catherine truly does possess an agreeable, and growing, amount of self-awareness.
Northanger Abbey is a novel of opposition- virtue versus vice, stability versus inconstancy, the will versus the emotions, truth versus deceit and especially the rational versus the romantic. This is best exemplified in the notable differences between Henry and Catherine, which tend to surface during conversation. In the process of educating Catherine, Henry is constantly bringing her back to reality. This is most obvious in their opposite reactions to the abbey, Catherine expecting to find a place full of mystery and with danger lurking behind hidden panels, Henry knowing that his residence is nothing more than just another home. Allowing herself to be influenced by her emotions and the horrible storm that takes place one night, Catherine is led on a disappointing discovery of an empty chest and a wardrobe that contains only a household inventory. And yet upon realizing her folly the following morning, her only fear is that Henry Tilney should learn of it. She only comprehends the extent of her foolish thinking when she compares it to the rational judgment of Tilney.
The most shameful of these exchanges occurs when Tilney finds Catherine outside of his mother’s chambers. When he discovers the horrible scheme that Catherine has allowed her imagination to run away with, he asks her to reconsider her judgment. “Consult your own understanding, your own sense of the probable, your own observation of what is passing around you …” (p. 199). Upon this revelation of truth, “The visions of romance were over. Catherine was completely awakened” (p. 201). She now realizes how she has let her mind run away with images of the novels she had recently read, and she forms the resolution of “ always judging and acting in the future with the greatest good sense” (p. 202). This aspect of her education now completed, “the anxieties of common life began soon to succeed to the alarms of romance” (p. 203). Catherine is now able to control her emotions and build a life upon good sense and reason. She is even able to view the dissolution of her friendship with Isabella without the anticipated affliction. She now feels, as Tilney says, “what is most to the credit of human nature” and he encourages her to investigate those feelings that she will better know herself. As readers, we see that a continued relationship with Henry Tilney will allow Catherine to grow into an enlightened, rational human being.
It should be noted that Jane Austen is not completely anti-romantic in the sense that she believes one should have nothing to do with such novels. It is obvious in her writings that she has read them herself. To best understand Austen’s view of this literary trend, readers should look to Henry Tilney. Henry has read The Mysteries of Udolpho, but unlike Catherine he read it merely for pleasure and is able to separate the story from reality. As Anne Henry Ehrenpeis states in her introduction to the novel, “Catherine’s folly lies not in indulging a taste for melodramatic fiction but in imposing its values on the life around her” (p. 21). Like many of her other novels, the theme in Northanger Abbey is not the threat of possessing a strong sense of feeling and emotion but rather of the risk of allowing one’s imagination to reign unchecked by one’s rationality.
Aside from exploring the nature of the text itself, we can discover evidence of the Enlightenment in Jane Austen's novels by comparing them with other works of that time period, such as Alexander Pope's "The Rape of the Lock." "The Rape of the Lock" is a mock-epic written by Pope to show his friends the trivialness and humor in a situation that had been blown out of proportion. In doing so, Pope makes society aware of its lack of discernment, especially in what is really important. In the story, Belinda is warned in a dream that something dreadful is going to happen to her that day, yet she goes about her normal routine. The dreadful deed is actually Baron snipping off a lock of her hair, an act which he prepares for by rising early and taking part in prayers and sacrifices that will ensure him of his success, which must strike the audience as absurd. After Baron snips off a lock of her hair, Belinda screams and cries- clearly she is being led by her emotions. Clarissa encourages her to control herself, and replace her anger with good humour and sense- moral qualities that will endure for a lifetime. As Pope writes: "How vain are all these glories, all our pains, Unless good sense preserve what beauty gains" or "Beauties and vanities their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the site, but merit wins the soul." (p. 96)But Clarissa's endeavors are in vain, a fight ensues and Belinda is only satisfied when the strands of hair are scattered about and left to dust.
Both Northanger Abbey and “The Rape of the Lock” contain instances of reason versus passion. Similar to Austen and many other writers of this period, Pope was known for “associating women with a powerful imagination, not always under control” (Fairer, p. 18). Both Catherine and Belinda have allowed themselves to be led away by their emotions, and both are fortunate enough to have a friend willing to attempt to bring them back to reality. Like Tilney, Clarissa “reminds [Belinda] of the world of commitments and responsibilities which does not exist in daydream or nightmare, but engages with how people actually live” (Fairer, p. 54). By using satire, both Austen and Pope are able to expose dangers of living by one’s imagination rather than employing rational thinking, the theme of the Enlightenment.
During the political and social upheaval of the eighteenth century, literature also endured some changes. The Restoration was a time to turn to reason and the individual for higher truth. It was within this period that Alexander Pope emerged as a popular epic writer and, with the publication of “The Rape of the Lock,” as a skilled satirist. Not long after, Jane Austen appeared as an author who was also able to portray the need for a balance between reason and passion. It should be no surprise then that Northanger Abbey was one of her earlier works, written shortly after the close of the Restoration period. While Northanger Abbey is best known for what it is not- a Gothic romance, it is important to realize what it truly is- a product of the Enlightenment.
Ehrenpreis, Anne Henry. Northanger Abbey: Introduction. Penguin Books. 1972.
Fairer, David. The Poetry of Alexander Pope. Penguin Books. 1989.
Pope, Alexander. A Critical Edition of the Major Works. Oxford. 1993.
Rogers, Pat (editor). The Oxford Illustrated History of English Literature. Oxford. 1987.
Was Jane Austen a Romantic?
"The imagination of man is not satisfied with the contemplation of human nature and good sense. It craves first of all sensationalism, that crude intensification of life, and secondly romance, which is, in its simplest form, the suspension of the limitations of normal experience, and becomes, in delicate minds, the self-pleasing reverie of thought shaping ideal forms of grandeur, beauty and happiness." (Tompkins, p. 206). The mid-eighteenth century birthed a new form of literature in England, that of the romantics. The word romance in literature implies “imaginative or fictitious, fabulous or downright extravagant” (Rogers, p. 274). Society was no longer content with reading of the known and common, they got enough of that on a day-to-day basis. It was now time to reach beyond natural boundaries and normal circumstance, to find truth in the irregular and sublime.
During a time of political upheaval and tremendous social change, romanticism was a rebellion against what was becoming increasingly unfamiliar, specifically philosophy, politics and religion, as well as the arts (Rogers, p. 275). Feeling abandoned by current religion, men and women began seeking higher truth and spirituality in nature- man’s “proper setting” (Rogers, p. 277). Romanticism refused to center on the material, was predominantly fanciful and at times ironic (Butler, p. 155). Whereas the early eighteenth century had been a time of reason and rational thinking, the Romantic movement focused more on feelings, emotions and the imagination.
It is no surprise then that this period produced a sudden influx in women writers. With an emphasis on the feelings and emotions, Romanticism introduced the concept of sensibility. Sensibility is the belief in the innate goodness of man and is expressed in human relations and the human response to art and nature (Rogers, p. 312). Ann Jessie Van Sant posits a definition of sensibility to include a “a) delicate moral and aesthetic perception; b) acuteness of feeling, both emotional and physical; and c) susceptibility to delicate passional arousal” and even suggested that sensibility is largely characteristic of women (p. 1). Mary Shelley, author of the quintessential romance novel Frankenstein, claims she felt pressed to write a story “which would speak to the mysterious fears of our nature and awaken a thrilling horror – one to make the reader dread to look round, to curdle the blood, and quicken the beatings of the heart” (pp. xxiii-xxiv). As the epitome of Romantic authors, Shelley found her dreams and imagination “more fantastic and agreeable than [her] writings” (p. xxi). She describes the place where she grew up as “blank and dreary” but where she could meet with her imaginary beings and write “beneath the trees” or on the “bleak sides of the woodless mountain near” (p. xxii). It is this pervasive, eerie nature that envelopes her novel. The story opens and closes in “the land of mist and snow” (p. 7). The main character, Frankenstein, describes his childhood as exceedingly pleasant, and describes himself as “sometimes violent” but with “vehement passions” (p. 23). When he leaves home to study, his mission is to “pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation” (p. 33). Laced with dark woods, misty waters, jagged cliffs and dashes of lightening, Frankenstein achieved the unreasonable, the fantastic, the mysterious – the romantic; and this was the mood of the times.
Despite its popularity, and its appeal to nature and the passions, not all authors of this time were apt to follow this literary route. One female author dared to go a different way. Jane Austen published books during this period, even in the same year as Frankenstein, and yet her novels are noticeably not of this style. Even though her stories may contain some evidence of such a movement, Jane Austen was not a romantic.
One common criticism of Austen is her lack of passion – a characteristic prevalent in nineteenth century novels. Barbara Hardy claims, “Strong feelings, emotional depth, sublimity, elevation, and soul, critics objected or admitted, are absent in her six major novels” (p. 37). Austen was certainly aware of passion, she did not ignore it completely, but is either laughed at, treated with disdain, or watered down to the point where it is barely recognizable. But Jane Austen’s characters are not completely devoid of emotion, in fact, her characters tend to evoke very strong feelings, but generally repress or inhibit themselves so as not to be deemed passionate (Hardy, p. 40).
One example of a character that prefers to live by her emotions is Marianne Dashwood. If Elinor is the embodiment of Jane Austen and Marianne the personification of romantic authors, then Sense and Sensibility displays the struggle Austen must have felt as an author during this time. Marianne was “sensible and clever, but eager in everything; her sorrows, her joys, could have no moderation. She was generous, amiable, interesting: she was everything but prudent” (Sense and Sensibility, p. 24). On the other hand, Elinor “possessed a strength of understanding and coolness of judgment,” she also “had an excellent heart; her disposition was affectionate, and her feelings were strong; but she knew how to govern them” (p. 24). Both Marianne and Elinor were young women of feeling, the difference was that one was apt to indulge in her passions whereas the other was able to control hers. As a result, Marianne nearly dies of a broken heart and a fever brought on by “lingering romantically on a twilight walk in wet grass” (Drabble, p. xiv). By the end of the novel, readers are meant to realize, “Powerful, undisguised emotion is selfish: we must learn to control and submit” (Drabble, p. xvi). And so, although Austen does not completely disregard romance, she does not place it in a desirable light. Unlike the romantic authors who advocated passionate displays, emotional arousal and dreamlike settings, Jane Austen chose to encourage a realistic view of the world and human relations.
Emma is another example of a novel that is clearly not Romantic. For example, the usually reserved and subdued Jane Fairfax suddenly leaving the Donwell Abbey party shows an affection of spirits, but as readers we are never allowed to know the true extent of her passions, only that she would prefer to walk home in solitude and would later suffer from a headache for several days. The audience is continually left in the dark concerning how she feels even after we understand the events that have produced such behavior. One aspect that Emma shares with other Jane Austen novels is the serious lack of passion that is displayed in marriage proposals. As Austen’s themes center on love and marriage, it is surprising that the culmination of all her efforts, the proposal, is often left so neglected. The substance of these professions is usually of a detached, unaffected observer. Rarely does Austen allow the lovers to speak themselves, but rather alludes to their declarations through general statements. For instance, when Mr. Elton proposes to Emma in the carriage, we are not swept away by passionate declarations of love and constancy from the lover himself, instead we are told that Mr. Elton was “actually making violent love to her: availing himself of the precious hoping – fearing – adoring – ready to die if she refused him; but flattering himself that his ardent attachment and unequalled love and unexampled passion could not fail of having some effect…” (Emma, p. 144). Although we recognize all the romantic language: violence, hope, fear, adoration, ready to die, etc., it is difficult to comprehend the depth and seriousness of his feelings when described in such a way. Even the long awaited marriage proposal from Mr. Knightly leaves something to be desired, especially when injected with the all-too-familiar Austen declaration, “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more” (p. 453), which seems like a cop-out for any real, passionate exchange. Pat Rogers even ventures to say that the story has “too much subtlety, and not enough sensation” (p. 320). Any reader looking to Jane Austen for passionate proclamations and sentimental feelings will most likely turn away dissatisfied.
Although not of the same nature as Marianne, Emma Woodhouse is another character that is bordering on the romantic. She has a vivid imagination, which she uses to plan the marriages of those around her but never for herself. When it comes to her own situation, Emma originally believes herself to be above romance, only to discover that there is someone for her after all, someone who happens to be her childhood friend- a man she has known her entire life. There is no mystery in this relationship, both Emma and Mr. Knightly know each other too well for that. And, as in other Jane Austen relationships, they are a well-matched couple, not because they are violently in love or willing to die for the other’s heart, but because they share similar qualities, admire one another’s character and mutually esteem one another. These are the characteristics of a suitable match, not feelings based on fleeting emotion or temporary sentiments, but on lasting attributes of morality and stability.
Another romantic characteristic that is absent or understated in Emma is nature. Emma, like Austen’s other novels, is domestic; most of the activity in the novel centers around the home. Discourse and social exchange generally takes place during home visits, small parties or the occasional ball. Young women like Emma rarely venture out of the home, but when they do they do not go far. For instance, the Box Hill outing was Emma’s first visit to the site, despite living so near it for twenty-one years, and when the ladies picked strawberries at Donwell Abbey, it was Emma’s first time there in several years, even though Mr. Knightly is her close neighbor. With very little occurring out of doors, Austen does not have much to say about nature other than a few remarks on the weather.
Although she wrote during the same time as the Romantic movement, Jane Austen did not write in this style, but rather her writing shows a reaction against it. For the most part, Austen’s novels are bright and clear, with none of the darkness and mystery often found in a romantic novel. There is the occasional hint of romantic trends in her works, but it is usually downplayed or rebuked. As Rogers says, she “submits romantic ideas to the test of hard experience and finds them wanting” (p. 324). Thus, judging by the style of her writing and the message of her novels, it can be assumed that, although she possessed an acute understanding of this movement, Jane Austen was not a Romantic.
Butler, Marilyn. Romantics, Rebels, Reactionaries.
Drabble, Margaret. Sense and Sensibility: Introduction.
Hardy, Barbara. A Reading of Jane Austen. 1979.
Rogers, Pat. The Oxford Illustrated History of English Literature. 1987.
Tompkins, J.M.S. The Popular Novel in England, 1770-1800. 1932.
Van Sant, Ann Jessie. Eighteenth-Century Sensibility and the Novel. 1993.
During a time of political upheaval and tremendous social change, romanticism was a rebellion against what was becoming increasingly unfamiliar, specifically philosophy, politics and religion, as well as the arts (Rogers, p. 275). Feeling abandoned by current religion, men and women began seeking higher truth and spirituality in nature- man’s “proper setting” (Rogers, p. 277). Romanticism refused to center on the material, was predominantly fanciful and at times ironic (Butler, p. 155). Whereas the early eighteenth century had been a time of reason and rational thinking, the Romantic movement focused more on feelings, emotions and the imagination.
It is no surprise then that this period produced a sudden influx in women writers. With an emphasis on the feelings and emotions, Romanticism introduced the concept of sensibility. Sensibility is the belief in the innate goodness of man and is expressed in human relations and the human response to art and nature (Rogers, p. 312). Ann Jessie Van Sant posits a definition of sensibility to include a “a) delicate moral and aesthetic perception; b) acuteness of feeling, both emotional and physical; and c) susceptibility to delicate passional arousal” and even suggested that sensibility is largely characteristic of women (p. 1). Mary Shelley, author of the quintessential romance novel Frankenstein, claims she felt pressed to write a story “which would speak to the mysterious fears of our nature and awaken a thrilling horror – one to make the reader dread to look round, to curdle the blood, and quicken the beatings of the heart” (pp. xxiii-xxiv). As the epitome of Romantic authors, Shelley found her dreams and imagination “more fantastic and agreeable than [her] writings” (p. xxi). She describes the place where she grew up as “blank and dreary” but where she could meet with her imaginary beings and write “beneath the trees” or on the “bleak sides of the woodless mountain near” (p. xxii). It is this pervasive, eerie nature that envelopes her novel. The story opens and closes in “the land of mist and snow” (p. 7). The main character, Frankenstein, describes his childhood as exceedingly pleasant, and describes himself as “sometimes violent” but with “vehement passions” (p. 23). When he leaves home to study, his mission is to “pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation” (p. 33). Laced with dark woods, misty waters, jagged cliffs and dashes of lightening, Frankenstein achieved the unreasonable, the fantastic, the mysterious – the romantic; and this was the mood of the times.
Despite its popularity, and its appeal to nature and the passions, not all authors of this time were apt to follow this literary route. One female author dared to go a different way. Jane Austen published books during this period, even in the same year as Frankenstein, and yet her novels are noticeably not of this style. Even though her stories may contain some evidence of such a movement, Jane Austen was not a romantic.
One common criticism of Austen is her lack of passion – a characteristic prevalent in nineteenth century novels. Barbara Hardy claims, “Strong feelings, emotional depth, sublimity, elevation, and soul, critics objected or admitted, are absent in her six major novels” (p. 37). Austen was certainly aware of passion, she did not ignore it completely, but is either laughed at, treated with disdain, or watered down to the point where it is barely recognizable. But Jane Austen’s characters are not completely devoid of emotion, in fact, her characters tend to evoke very strong feelings, but generally repress or inhibit themselves so as not to be deemed passionate (Hardy, p. 40).
One example of a character that prefers to live by her emotions is Marianne Dashwood. If Elinor is the embodiment of Jane Austen and Marianne the personification of romantic authors, then Sense and Sensibility displays the struggle Austen must have felt as an author during this time. Marianne was “sensible and clever, but eager in everything; her sorrows, her joys, could have no moderation. She was generous, amiable, interesting: she was everything but prudent” (Sense and Sensibility, p. 24). On the other hand, Elinor “possessed a strength of understanding and coolness of judgment,” she also “had an excellent heart; her disposition was affectionate, and her feelings were strong; but she knew how to govern them” (p. 24). Both Marianne and Elinor were young women of feeling, the difference was that one was apt to indulge in her passions whereas the other was able to control hers. As a result, Marianne nearly dies of a broken heart and a fever brought on by “lingering romantically on a twilight walk in wet grass” (Drabble, p. xiv). By the end of the novel, readers are meant to realize, “Powerful, undisguised emotion is selfish: we must learn to control and submit” (Drabble, p. xvi). And so, although Austen does not completely disregard romance, she does not place it in a desirable light. Unlike the romantic authors who advocated passionate displays, emotional arousal and dreamlike settings, Jane Austen chose to encourage a realistic view of the world and human relations.
Emma is another example of a novel that is clearly not Romantic. For example, the usually reserved and subdued Jane Fairfax suddenly leaving the Donwell Abbey party shows an affection of spirits, but as readers we are never allowed to know the true extent of her passions, only that she would prefer to walk home in solitude and would later suffer from a headache for several days. The audience is continually left in the dark concerning how she feels even after we understand the events that have produced such behavior. One aspect that Emma shares with other Jane Austen novels is the serious lack of passion that is displayed in marriage proposals. As Austen’s themes center on love and marriage, it is surprising that the culmination of all her efforts, the proposal, is often left so neglected. The substance of these professions is usually of a detached, unaffected observer. Rarely does Austen allow the lovers to speak themselves, but rather alludes to their declarations through general statements. For instance, when Mr. Elton proposes to Emma in the carriage, we are not swept away by passionate declarations of love and constancy from the lover himself, instead we are told that Mr. Elton was “actually making violent love to her: availing himself of the precious hoping – fearing – adoring – ready to die if she refused him; but flattering himself that his ardent attachment and unequalled love and unexampled passion could not fail of having some effect…” (Emma, p. 144). Although we recognize all the romantic language: violence, hope, fear, adoration, ready to die, etc., it is difficult to comprehend the depth and seriousness of his feelings when described in such a way. Even the long awaited marriage proposal from Mr. Knightly leaves something to be desired, especially when injected with the all-too-familiar Austen declaration, “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more” (p. 453), which seems like a cop-out for any real, passionate exchange. Pat Rogers even ventures to say that the story has “too much subtlety, and not enough sensation” (p. 320). Any reader looking to Jane Austen for passionate proclamations and sentimental feelings will most likely turn away dissatisfied.
Although not of the same nature as Marianne, Emma Woodhouse is another character that is bordering on the romantic. She has a vivid imagination, which she uses to plan the marriages of those around her but never for herself. When it comes to her own situation, Emma originally believes herself to be above romance, only to discover that there is someone for her after all, someone who happens to be her childhood friend- a man she has known her entire life. There is no mystery in this relationship, both Emma and Mr. Knightly know each other too well for that. And, as in other Jane Austen relationships, they are a well-matched couple, not because they are violently in love or willing to die for the other’s heart, but because they share similar qualities, admire one another’s character and mutually esteem one another. These are the characteristics of a suitable match, not feelings based on fleeting emotion or temporary sentiments, but on lasting attributes of morality and stability.
Another romantic characteristic that is absent or understated in Emma is nature. Emma, like Austen’s other novels, is domestic; most of the activity in the novel centers around the home. Discourse and social exchange generally takes place during home visits, small parties or the occasional ball. Young women like Emma rarely venture out of the home, but when they do they do not go far. For instance, the Box Hill outing was Emma’s first visit to the site, despite living so near it for twenty-one years, and when the ladies picked strawberries at Donwell Abbey, it was Emma’s first time there in several years, even though Mr. Knightly is her close neighbor. With very little occurring out of doors, Austen does not have much to say about nature other than a few remarks on the weather.
Although she wrote during the same time as the Romantic movement, Jane Austen did not write in this style, but rather her writing shows a reaction against it. For the most part, Austen’s novels are bright and clear, with none of the darkness and mystery often found in a romantic novel. There is the occasional hint of romantic trends in her works, but it is usually downplayed or rebuked. As Rogers says, she “submits romantic ideas to the test of hard experience and finds them wanting” (p. 324). Thus, judging by the style of her writing and the message of her novels, it can be assumed that, although she possessed an acute understanding of this movement, Jane Austen was not a Romantic.
Butler, Marilyn. Romantics, Rebels, Reactionaries.
Drabble, Margaret. Sense and Sensibility: Introduction.
Hardy, Barbara. A Reading of Jane Austen. 1979.
Rogers, Pat. The Oxford Illustrated History of English Literature. 1987.
Tompkins, J.M.S. The Popular Novel in England, 1770-1800. 1932.
Van Sant, Ann Jessie. Eighteenth-Century Sensibility and the Novel. 1993.
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