"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.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
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