Monday, September 19, 2005

Summer 2005

1) Edward Scissorhands
2) What's Eating Gilbert Grape?
3) An Affair to Remember
4) Blade Runner
5) Back to the Future 1
6) Back to the Future 2
7) Back to the Future 3
8) Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
9) Closer
10) In Good Company
11) All About Eve
12) North by Northwest
13) Dial M for Murder
14) Notorious
15) The Wedding Crashers
16) Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants
17) Howl's Moving Castle
18) Revenge of the Sith
19) The English Patient
20) Metropolis
21) The Importance of Being Earnest
22) Carrie
23) Million Dollar Baby
24) Les Liaisons Dangereuses
25) My Man Godfrey
26) The House on Haunted Hill
27) Top Gun
28) The Mummy 2 (yes, I am ashamed of this one)
29) An Officer and a Gentleman
30) Interview with the Vampire
31) Spiderman
32) Spiderman 2
33) The African Queen
34) The Aviator
35) The Misfits
36) Marty
37) Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
38) Schindler's List
39) Apocalypse Now
40) The Maltese Falcon
41) Citizen Kane
42) Pulp Fiction
43) Raising Arizona
44) Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves
45) A Star is Born
46) The Talented Mr. Ripley
47) Spaceballs
48) High Fidelity
49) Home Fries (yes, ashamed of this one too)
50) Orange County (and this one)
51) The Upside of Anger
52) Birth
53) The Rescuers Down Under (perhaps I should be ashamed of this one, but I'm not)
54) Wilbur Wants to Kill Himself
55) Get Shorty
56) Meet the Parents
57) Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
58) Giant
59) The Searchers
60) Charade
61) Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?
62) Field of Dreams
63) Born Yesterday
64) Dances with Wolves
65) Frankenstein
66) My Neighbor Totoro
67) P.S.
68) Bride and Prejudice
69) Spanglish

Monday, June 20, 2005

Persuasion

Persuasion is a wonderful book. It's one of Austen's shorter novels, and it's so clean and streamlined and perfect. It begins with the Elliot family. Sir Walter Elliot is a handsome, middle-aged man who lost his wife some years before. His wife was sensible, but he is a silly, vain man. He has three daughters. His favorite is the eldest, Elizabeth, who was a beauty when she was young but is now thirty years old. The second, Anne, was also beautiful, but lost her bloom early and is now faded and pale. Anne, however, is the kindest, most elegant, and most intelligent of the three sisters. She is in her late twenties. The youngest, Mary, is the only one who is married. She wed Charles Musgrove, who originally courted Anne but was refused.

Anne refused him because she loves another man, Frederick (now Captain) Wentworth. Ten years before, he courted her and the two were very in love. He was handsome, bold, and clever, but just beginning his career in the navy and didn't have a steady income. Anne's mother's best friend, Lady Russell, advised Anne not to marry Wentworth. She said that Anne was still young and could be approached again. Anne believes, moreover, that she is doing Wentworth a favor when she breaks the engagement. Ten years later, Anne is still unmarried and still in love.

Her father, it turns out, is in debt. He agrees to rent out Kellynch-Hall, their country estate, to lower expenses. He decides that the whole family will move to Bath. Although Sir Walter has a low opinion of the navy-- the men are too weather-beaten there-- he agrees to rent the Hall to Admiral and Mrs. Croft. Mrs. Croft just happens to be the sister of Captain Wentworth, and Anne is thrown into tumult to think that her beloved might soon be living in the house she currently occupies. The whole family is soon to leave for Bath. Anne doesn't want to go with them, but Lady Russell is going to be moving around and can't really invite her to stay with her, either. Luckily, Anne's sister Mary is feeling unwell and invites Anne to come stay with her to nurse her for a while. In Anne's place, a Mrs. Clay is invited to come to Bath with the Elliots. Sir Walter is not threatened by Mrs. Clay, because she has freckles and strange teeth, and Elizabeth likes her, but Anne sees that Mrs. Clay will probably try to "set her cap" at her father.

Sir Walter, Elizabeth, and Mrs. Clay set off for Bath and Anne goes to visit Mary. Mary is ill-tempered and petulant, but Anne is kind to her. Charles Musgrove is a sensible young man whose flaws are indulged by Mary's bad company, but is generally good. Anne plays with their children and entertains Mary. They all often visit Charles's family, which lives nearby: his mother and father, and two lively and pretty sisters, Henrietta and Louisa. The Crofts move into Kellynch-Hall and the Musgroves visit them. Anne gets to meet the Crofts when they return the visit, and likes them very much. Mrs. Croft is energetic and Mr. Croft is kind. Anne finds out after the visit that Captain Wentworth is home from sea and is coming to visit the Crofts. The Musgroves decide to meet him, because he was kind to their son, Dick Musgrove, who was a good-for-nothing and (apparently, luckily) died at sea.

The Musgroves visit Captain Wentworth as soon as he arrives, and he returns the visit. Anne is to meet him again at dinner, but one of Mary and Charles's sons breaks his collarbone and Anne offers to nurse him while the others are at dinner. Wentworth does come to call again, when he spends the morning with the Musgroves, and his reintroduction to Anne is uneventful. He is cool to her. He reveals to his sister that he is looking to marry, but not Anne Elliot; he thinks of either of the Musgrove sisters. The two spend a lot of time together in company with the Musgrove family, but he is always formal and polite with her, and lively and charming with the others. Both Louisa and Henrietta are in love with him, or seem to be, even though Henrietta was being pursued by her cousin Charles Hayter previously. Wentworth is occasionally kind to her; when Anne's nephew Walter climbs on her and won't leave her alone, Wentworth pulls him off.

One morning, however, Anne overhears Louisa and Wentworth talking and hears Wentworth criticizing the lack of a firm character in women. She thinks that Louisa and Wentworth will probably marry, but is still pleased when he shows her kindness and courtesy. He notices that she is tired and insists that she ride back from a walk in the carriage, and even lifts her into the carriage.

Captain Wentworth receives a letter from his friend, Captain Harville, inviting him to come visit him in Lyme. All of the young people go on the visit, as they are eager to go to the sea. Anne Elliot makes friends with a Captain Benwick, who is melancholy and plain, and eager for female company. He was engaged to Fanny Harville, Captain Harville's sister, but she died while he was at sea. Captain Benwick isn't the only man to admire Anne while in Lyme; one day, on the beach, a man stops and admires Anne, which Wentworth notices. They find out later that the man is their cousin, Mr. Elliot, heir to Sir Walter, and who snubbed Elizabeth many years before.

While in Lyme, Louisa has an accident when she is jumping down from stiles into Captain Wentworth's arms. She jumps too soon and hits her head on the ground. Wentworth is upset but Anne takes action. Louisa's situation looks grave. Anne and Henrietta go with Wentworth to tell Mr. and Mrs. Hargrove the news back at their home, and then Anne sees Wentworth leave. A few days later, Anne leaves to go visit Lady Russell. Mary and Charles visit them with reports of Louisa's improvement, and Captain Benwick's admiration for Anne. Anne is a little taken by the idea of Captain Benwick pining for her. After some time near Kellynch, Lady Russell and Anne leave for Bath.

Anne finds that Mr. Elliot, her cousin, has been visiting her sister and father. Sir Walter complains about the unattractive women in Bath. That evening, Mr. Elliot calls on the family and is surprised to see that the attractive woman he saw in Lyme is his cousin, Anne. Anne, in turn, is pleased by Mr. Elliot's good looks and pleasant manner. Anne is a little bit less at ease about the relationship between Mrs. Clay and Sir Walter. Anne spends her time in Bath visiting an old school-friend, Mrs. Smith, who is ill and poor and lives in disreputable lodgings. She hears from Mary, who reports that Louisa is engaged to Captain Benwick, not Wentworth. It seems that Henrietta and Charles Hayter will be married, once more. The Crofts come to Bath and the Elliots associate with them. Wentworth soon joins them.

After Wentworth has come, Anne finds herself walking alone on the street one day. It starts to rain and Anne ducks into a sweetshop. She sees Wentworth walking down the street, and he steps into the shop with a group of friends, and seems very surprised and embarrassed to see her. He offers Anne his umbrella, but Mr. Elliot comes in to take her home instead. After they have left, the men and women in the shop speculate about the relationship between Anne and Mr. Elliot. Before a concert the next evening, Wentworth and Anne have a conversation, and Anne feels inclined to believe that Wentworth might still love her. However, at the concert, Wentworth sees how attentive Mr. Elliot is and draws back. Anne is upset at what his jealousy might do.

When Anne visits Mrs. Smith next, Mrs. Smith reveals the true state of Mr. Elliot's character. He is selfish and calculating, and pretended to be friends with her husband but actually abandoned him to poverty. Anne is horrified and realizes that she might actually have accepted him if he had proposed. Mary and the Musgroves come to Bath to plan the weddings for the Musgrove daughters. While Anne is with them at the hotel, they see Mrs. Clay and Mr. Elliot meeting in the street, although Mr. Elliot is supposed to be out of town.

Later, Anne and Captain Harville discuss constancy and inconstancy in men and women. Anne advocates the everlasting love of women, while Harville argues for men. Captain Wentworth eavesdrops on them and writes a letter to Anne, saying that he has loved only her and waits to hear if she loves him in return. She is ecstatic. Charles starts to take her home, but Wentworth overtakes them and escorts Anne instead. The two reveal their love for each other and are engaged once more. Wentworth says that he never loved Louisa, but found himself nearly engaged out of stupidity. Anne still believes that in some way, she acted correctly ten years ago, but tells him that she would have accepted him years before, if he had approached her.

Mr. Elliot and Mrs. Clay flee. All is well-- the engagement is taken fairly well, because Sir Walter acknowledges Captain Wentworth's good looks and Lady Russell his good character-- and even Mrs. Smith ends up happily.

Emma

I don't much like Emma Woodhouse.

Emma

The novel begins with Emma Woodhouse's distress that her governess has just married a Mr. Weston, leaving her alone with little company. Emma is a young woman, just over twenty years old, and beautiful and smart, and is not particularly pleased that she will have only her father for company now. Her father, a silly old hypochondriac, is not pleased at the loss either. Mr. Knightley, Emma's brother-in-law (her sister Isabella is married to his younger brother, Robert Knightley), comes to console the two.

Emma thinks that she was responsible for the match between the Westons, and begins to take up matchmaking in earnest. Because she is rich and content to live at home, she believes that she will never marry. She thinks that she does not need the companionship-- that she will never meet the man to suit her. Emma meets Harriet Smith, a girl a few years younger who, by all appearances, is an illegitimate child left at a boarding school. Harriet is simple and rather vapid, but pretty and good-tempered, and Emma is quite taken with her. She decides to groom her to be able to move about and marry in the upper classes. Emma even chooses a husband for Harriet, the handsome and well-spoken Mr. Elton, the young pastor that lives nearby. Harriet is being wooed by Robert Martin, a farmer, but Emma helps to break that relationship off almost immediately. Mr. Knightley, who likes Robert Martin, is angry at Emma for this.

I don't like Emma much-- she's always seemed nasty and selfish to me. She's also, for all of her claims to be an astute observer of human behavior, a little thick-headed at times. Emma doesn't realize that Mr. Elton means to court her, as she tries to set up the courtship between him and Harriet Smith. When she sketches a portrait of Harriet, Emma believes that Mr. Elton admires Harriet's beauty, but he actually just admires Emma's talent (or variation thereof). Harriet and Emma assemble a book of riddles. Mr. Elton composes a riddle about courtship, which Emma easily solves. She doesn't, however, realize that the riddle is intended for her, not Harriet. After a dinner party at Christmas, Mr. Elton corners Emma alone in a carriage and declares his love for her. Emma is shocked and tells him that she thought that he was pursuing Harriet. Mr. Elton, perhaps understandably, is also shocked. He has, indeed, been PERFECTLY OBVIOUS in his pursuit of Emma rather than Harriet. He cannot understand Emma's disregard of his class. He would never pursue a penniless, probably illegitimate unknown.

Mr. Elton takes off for Bath and woos a vulgar but rich young woman there, marries her, and eventually brings her home. In the country, Emma has met Frank Churchill, the son of Mr. Weston and his deceased first wife. Frank was raised by the Churchills, relations of Mr. Weston's, because of their wealth and security. While Frank was growing up, Mr. Weston amassed his fortune. Frank is a dandified young man, perhaps a trifle scandalous, but not like Willoughby or Wickham. He is handsome, smart, and gossipy: a perfect match for Emma. He starts paying her respects to her. Jane Fairfax, the beautiful and accomplished niece of Emma's silly cousin, Miss Bates, comes to visit her aunt. This becomes a pretty complicated love triangle. Jane and Frank are engaged, but no one else knows. Emma believes that Frank is interested in her, but he is using her to mask his real engagement. Emma dislikes Jane Fairfax, for, what seems to me, the most petty and catty reasons. She thinks that Jane is too cool and distant, but the impression I get is more that she resents the presence of another beautiful, accomplished, intelligent woman, and is annoyed that Jane seems more refined than she. Emma also thinks that Jane is running from an adulterous relationship she had brewing back home.

Frank receives news that his aunt (or adopted mother, more like) is sick and goes to visit her. He tells Emma that he needs to speak to her, but he doesn't. Emma thinks that he wants to propose. She tries to decide how she feels about that. She also thinks that Mr. Knightley is interested in Jane, and gets jealous, but believes that there are other reasons that Knightley should not pursue Jane. Of course, Harriet is still on the sidelines: she should be married to Robert Martin, of course, but has been prevented from doing so by Emma. Elton has married and hurt Harriet's feelings. One day, Harriet is walking alone and is threatened by some gypsies, from whom Frank saves her. Emma thinks that the two must be falling in love, but Harriet aludes to her growing love for none other than Mr. Knightley. The group of people go on summer outings, and when Emma sees Harriet and Mr. Knightley walking alone during a strawberry party, her suspicions seems confirmed. During a picnic, Emma and Frank make fun of Miss Bates, hurting her feelings. Mr. Knightley chastises Emma for her cruelty and Emma cries on the way home.

But all is happy in the end.

Frank inherits his money and reveals his engagement to Jane Fairfax. Harriet tells Emma that she loves Mr. Knightley, which makes Emma realize that she loves Mr. Knightley (seriously, I hate you, Emma). Emma despairs, thinking that Harriet's beauty and goodness will win Knightley over, but then Knightley tells her that Robert Martin has proposed again and Harriet has accepted him. Emma rejoices. Knightley proposes to Emma and she accepts him, and everyone gets married.

Mansfield Park

Mansfield Park begins with the marriages of three sisters. Lady Bertram marries well. Mrs. Norris, the oldest sister, marries a clergyman. Mrs. Price marries a poor man to spite her family. Then, the three sisters all begin their families. Lady Bertram, indolent and kindly, has four children: Tom, Edmund, Maria, and Julia. Mrs. Norris, mean and cheap, has none. Mrs. Price, also indolent but harried in her poor life, has ten children. Her sisters offer to adopt one, Fanny. Mrs. Price happily accepts.

Fanny is shy and ignorant, and embarrassed by her beautiful and accomplished cousins at Mansfield Park. The only one who is kind to her is Edmund. Fanny grows up and, perhaps predictably, falls in love with Edmund, who also is sober, handsome, and plans to be a clergyman. Maria is courted by a rather stupid and unattractive young man who is also very rich. All seems to be going well. Fanny is treated much as a Cinderella figure by everyone, particularly Mrs. Norris, but isn't really unhappy in that situation. Sir Bertram takes Tom with him to his plantation in the West Indies and the whole house relaxes when not under Sir Betram's vigilant morals.

The parsonage at Mansfield Park acquires a new clergyman and his wife invites her brother and sister, Henry and Mary Crawford, to visit her there. Henry is plain, charming, and intelligent. Mary is pretty, witty, and lively. They are both unscrupulous. Edmund soon falls in love with Mary and she, to her surprise, falls in love with him. Mary had expected to fall in love with Tom, and cannot reconcile herself to Edmund's future career. Henry flirts with both Maria and Julia, and they both fall in love with him. Fanny, obviously, is horrified by the relationships both Crawfords are establishing, and she alone is an impartial (although partial to Edmund) judge of everything that happens. A friend of Tom's comes to stay at Mansfield Park and the party soon descends into sin, when they decide to stage a play in the house. At first Edmund resists, but Mary convinces him to participate. Fanny alone refuses. The play is in its final rehearsals when Sir Bertram unexpectedly returns and calls everything off. He is pleased to see his family, but especially pleased to see Fanny. Henry Crawford leaves. Maria marries her rich and stupid man. Julia joins Maria in London.

Henry Crawford returns and decides to seduce Fanny, which Mary fully supports. In the process, he falls in love with Fanny and decides to propose to her. Mary, Edmund, and Sir Bertram all back him, but Fanny, out of love for Edmund and her knowledge of Henry, refuses him. Sir Thomas decides to have her visit her family, including her beloved brother William, for a few months so that she will appreciate Henry and his wealth. Fanny's trip is awful-- her family is loud and vulgar and poor-- and William soon leaves. Henry comes to visit her but she still refuses him. She only leaves home when Edmund comes to fetch her, and he only does this when they find out that Maria has run away with Henry Crawford, and that Julia has run away with Tom's friend. Fanny takes one of her sisters with her. Maria and Henry soon grow apart, and her family send her and Mrs. Norris to a secluded country house. Edmund knows that Mary is immoral and would pardon Henry, and decides that he cannot marry her. He marries Fanny instead and they are sober, moral, and boring for the rest of their lives.

Friday, June 17, 2005

Love and knowledge in Persuasion

Jane Austen’s novel Persuasion is about love and the way the passing of time affects it. The heroine of Persuasion, like Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice and Harriet Smith in Emma, has rejected the man who loves her and his offer of marriage. In the earlier novels, however, the consequences of the heroine’s refusal are fairly short-lived. The lovers, with greater wisdom on both sides, are reunited within a few months of the initial proposal and the marriage finally takes place soon afterwards. In Persuasion, the separation resulting from the refusal lasts for almost eight years. How does this longer separation affect love? In this and in Austen’s other novels, love seems almost synonymous with thorough and appreciative knowledge of the lover and his or her character. Elizabeth Bennet can accept Mr. Darcy because she learns that she judged him too harshly and misunderstood his past. Harriet Smith chooses to marry Robert Martin when she is finally free of the influence of Emma Woodhouse and can recognize the goodness she has sensed in him since the beginning of the novel. An even greater knowledge of the lover develops in Persuasion, as the result of the maturation of love. The form that this knowledge takes seems to change over the eight years of separation, to become a deeper awareness not just of the lover as a person deserving of love, but of the lover almost as a part of oneself.

When Anne Elliot and Frederick Wentworth, who becomes Captain Wentworth, are young and in love, they are very aware of each other’s emotions. There seems to be little coyness or flirtation between the two. The reader is not given the impression of an extensive courtship, told only that

"They were gradually acquainted, and when acquainted, rapidly and deeply in love. It would be difficult to say which had seen highest perfection in the other, or which had been the happiest; she, in receiving his declarations and proposals, or he in having them accepted. A short period of exquisite felicity followed." (26)

The romance between Anne and Wentworth develops “rapidly and deeply.” It is a relationship filled with many contradictions like this; the limited knowledge of two newly acquainted people of one another’s characters should prevent them from feeling much more than a general impression of each other, but despite this, Anne and Wentworth seem very much in love. They fall in love while becoming “gradually acquainted.” The word “acquainted” implies first meeting someone, the formation of a new and presently shallow relationship. Anne and Wentworth, however, do it “gradually,” rapidly coming to know one another rather than just rapidly coming to know of one another. The contradictions present in the description of their love leave it less satisfying than might be ideal for the reader. There can be little doubt that Anne and Wentworth are in love; in fact, they are so much in love in their youth that the loss of the lover and of possible happiness in a marriage haunts them both for the next eight years. It is, however, a less mature love than the reader might expect to see, and one largely based on a superficial knowledge and appreciation of the lover. The two appreciate the qualities of “highest perfection” in one another, for “He was, at that time, a remarkably fine young man, with a great deal of intelligence, spirit, and brilliancy; and Anne an extremely pretty girl, with gentleness, modesty, taste, and feeling” (26). These are the qualities, both exterior and interior, that they discover in their period of becoming “gradually acquainted.” In this description, the reader is put in the place of each lover. Although the qualities listed work well for creating a general outline of each character, it is superficial knowledge. What the reader, and what each character, knows of the lover, is no different from what any other reader would know after being told. The love between Anne and Wentworth, although strong and passionate, seems undifferentiated by the individual perceptions of the lover. Indeed, what makes their love unique seems based in what makes it ordinary, or generalized. Their love is not complicated by knowledge deeper than that resulting from being “gradually acquainted.” They have no reason to see anything other than perfection in the one they love. In the happiness of such harmonious, but perhaps bland, love, they go on in “exquisite felicity.”

It is in the dissolution of their engagement that their knowledge of each other fails. The ease with which the dissolution, and the misunderstandings behind it, occurs suggests how superficial the knowledge between the two was to begin with. Anne’s older friend, Lady Russell, manages to convince Anne that “the engagement [was] a wrong thing” (27). Anne, who is young and is attached to Lady Russell as to a mother, believes that her advice could not possibly be ill-intentioned or ignorant, and breaks the engagement. Anne’s decision, however, is avowedly based in what she believes is a good knowledge of Wentworth, his situation, and his values. She believes that she acts in part, or perhaps mostly for, his sake, and thinks that

"Had she not imagined herself consulting his good, even more than her own, she could hardly have given him up.– The belief of being prudent, and self-denying principally for his advantage, was her chief consolation, under the misery of a parting– a final parting." (28)

Despite her belief that she is acting for Wentworth’s good, Anne’s actions certainly do not bring him good, and it is questionable as to whether or not she actually is acting for his good. Because of her belief in the goodness of her actions, her decision to break the engagement is “not a merely selfish caution” (27). The narrator’s mention of the role of “selfish caution” in deciding her actions at all makes it more difficult to believe that it is not an entirely selfish act. Anne, as the reader sees her in most of the action of Persuasion, is a good person, who cares for and usually understands others. This decision in her youth is one that she regrets for the next eight years. In her maturity and greater wisdom, she knows that her choice to break her engagement to Wentworth was an act of youthful indiscretion. Her judgment, when she is older, is generally sound and fair, although for most of the novel, she still does not fully know or understand Wentworth. She does understand her mistake, however. In her being able to recognize it as a mistake, she also recognizes the greater selfishness that might have been the basis for her decision.

Wentworth’s knowledge of Anne also fails when the engagement ends. For both Anne and Wentworth, the failure of knowledge of the other begins at the same point. They are both unable to understand why she acts as she does. Anne cannot acknowledge the selfishness of her actions, and mistakenly attributes what she does to a knowledge of Wentworth’s character. Wentworth fails to understand why Anne would end the engagement, and believes that he must have been deceived in his judgment of her character. When she tells him that the engagement must end, she is forced to confront “opinions, on his side, totally unconvinced and unbending, and of his feeling himself ill-used by so forced a relinquishment” (28). Wentworth is completely right, of course, in knowing that something is wrong in the situation. He has indeed been “ill-used,” in being encouraged by a woman who then decides to break off the engagement, believing that it is to his advantage. He is so indignant and offended about this end to the relationship, however, that he never tries to understand why Anne acts as she does. Perhaps if he had reasoned with her, she would have changed her mind again. The reader is never told exactly what Anne tells Wentworth, but he does know that Lady Russell has played a pretty important part, and he notes that it is “so forced a relinquishment.” Rather than seeing that Anne is genuinely concerned about financial status and uncertain security, he believes only that she has behaved badly in being so easily persuaded and evincing such a weak will. Later, he confesses to her, “I did not understand you. I shut my eyes, and would not understand you, or do you justice” (231). Perhaps the reason that their knowledge fails at the point of Anne’s decision is that it fails to be one between the two of them. She does not understand her own reasons, largely because they are not her own; they are due to the advice of Lady Russell. When Anne listens to Lady Russell and allows her to make her decisions for her, her personality as known to Wentworth becomes adulterated. The simplicity and superficiality of their knowledge is tainted by an outside force, and they can no longer exist in “exquisite felicity.” It is unfortunate, however, that the complexity necessary to make their love interesting should result from an outside and negative force.

After eight years have passed, the two still have a damaged knowledge of one another and the question arises of how they can restore and perhaps enhance that knowledge. The two must communicate their thoughts to one another as they did in their youth, to restore security in one another’s love, and then examine the status of their knowledge. When they meet again, this communication seems unlikely to happen, as they both believe that their lovers have fallen in love with other people. After Louisa Musgrove has had her accident, Anne sees Wentworth “as he sat near a table, learning over it with folded arms, and face concealed, as if overpowered by the various feelings of his soul, and trying by prayer and reflection to calm them” (104). Wentworth was partially responsible for Louisa’s accident, and only seems to be experiencing relief for Louisa’s well-being. Anne, however, reads his physical expression as being a manifestation of the deepest love and pain. What she actually sees before her and what she thinks that means, reality and her interpretation of that reality, are integrated together by the narrator in this sentence. Wentworth tells her later, however, that she was wrong, and “He persisted in having loved none but her” (227). Wentworth, similarly, refrains from declaring his love for Anne because of jealousy. Anne’s knowledge of his character is surprisingly astute here, for she guesses and then discovers that truthfully, “Jealousy of Mr. Elliot had been the retarding weight, the doubt, the torment” (226). When Anne begins to sense the continuing existence of Wentworth’s love, her knowledge of his character in its more mature and comprehensive stafe manifests itself. Anne is never truly interested in Mr. Elliot, because she is always aware of the slight he made to her family and the hopes he gave her sister Elizabeth while she was still young. When her friend, Mrs. Smith, tells her about Mr. Elliot’s immorality and the trouble that he was to her and her husband in the past, Anne is truly convinced that she could never marry Mr. Elliot, although she acknowledges some danger in perhaps being persuaded into the marriage. The two lovers, then, misunderstand where their affections lie. It is a misunderstanding only corrected when Anne makes a speech to Captain Harville about the inconstancy of men and the constancy of women. Wentworth overhears and writes a letter to her, confessing his love and hoping that she will choose, for a second time, to accept his proposal. He writes to her,

"Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. [...] You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone I think and plan.– Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes?– I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. [...] A word, a look will be enough to decide whether I enter your father’s house this evening, or never." (222-23)

He admits that he does not understand her, but believes that she must understand him. Anne has had moments of believing that he must still love her, but they are always defeated by sensing his jealousy of Mr. Elliot and remembering Wentworth’s seeming affection for Louisa Musgrove. This letter, a confession of what must be understood for a greater understanding to occur, results in knowledge of Wentworth’s character for Anne. Her understanding of him is restored, and their love may proceed from that moment without further obstructions.

This letter results in the return of an even greater “exquisite felicity” than existed before. Their love is still greatly selfish, in that they have noticed the lack of the lover for the last eight years and know what pleasure and happiness that presence could bring to them. However, it also becomes more selfless, as the lover becomes less the image of an ideal partner and more the essential of life, as necessary to existing as the self is. In their first courtship, Anne understands Wentworth as a man she thought would make the ideal husband, with good looks, good manners, and breeding. In her maturity, she can think of him as more than that. Now that her understanding of his emotions and motives has been restored, she need not be concerned with “selfish caution” any more. He is so well-known to and beloved by her that knowledge of him is as dear to her as knowledge of herself. When she meets Wentworth again, it is while she and Charles Musgrove are

"in Union Street, when a quicker step behind, a something of familiar sound, gave her two moments preparation for the sight of Captain Wentworth. He joined them; but, as if irresolute whether to join or to pass on, said nothing– only looked. Anne could command herself enough to receive that look, and not repulsively. The cheeks which had been pale now glowed, and the movements which had hesitated were decided. He walked by her side." (224-25)

The letter has made it possible for this communication without the mediation of language. Rather than “a word,” she chooses “a look” to communicate her love to Wentworth. Wentworth’s response is equally indicative of his understanding, and communicates his happiness and love to Anne. Communication between the two does not need to be mediated by language any longer; they can understand each other’s looks because they know one another’s thoughts. There is a physicality of knowledge, of being acquainted with another in the same way that one is acquainted with one’s own body. Anne knows Wentworth’s step, and it is now a “familiar sound.” The movements of his body are distinct from those of any other, because she loves him. That night, at her father’s, Anne is pleased to have “with Captain Wentworth, some moments of communication continually occurring, and always the hope of more, and always the knowledge of his being there!” (230) Because they now know each other’s love, they are secure in each other’s future presence. It is as secure a knowledge as the belief that as long as long as individual consciousness exists, one’s self will always be there.

Persuasion is a novel of mature love; it is a love extending beyond an initial courtship to a later and more uncertain stage. Anne and Wentworth have a passionate relationship in their youth, one defined by mutual appreciation of each other’s good qualities and joyful communication of their love. The passing of eight years allows this love to become richer and deeper, less about the gratification of the self and more about the replacement of the self with the beloved. Eight years pass in which they are both aware of loving one another and feel that they will never be able to repair the breach of their youth. When they are finally reunited, it is with a gratitude, pleasure, and knowledge of one another that they could not experience in their youth, when they did not know the pain and insecurity of being parted from the one you love forever.


WORKS CITED

Austen, Jane. Persuasion. London: Penguin Books, 2003.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Wealth and the masculinity of the heroine in Emma

The heroines of Jane Austen’s four earlier novels are all young, accomplished women of good background and breeding, but without much money. From this general outline, each one is individualized. Catherine Morland is from a fairly wealthy family, but an unfortunately large one. For this reason, she cannot expect much of a dowry when she marries. Fanny Price lives with her wealthy relatives, but her immediate family embarrasses her with its poverty. With such this precedent, Emma Woodhouse, in Austen’s novel Emma, is a surprising heroine. Emma has many of the good qualities of other Austen heroines, including beauty and intelligence, but is also the only child of and heiress to a wealthy father. Austen delights in writing novels that reverse the situations of earlier novels, and Emma is no exception. Her earlier novels are focused on the heroine’s search for a husband. Austen asks the question: what happens to a heroine typical of the earlier novels, when she is given wealth and security? The answer is that Emma becomes a foil to these other heroines in situation and character, something which manifests itself most surprisingly in a masculinity of character and the relationships that Emma shares with others.

The title of the novel is the first indication to the reader of the ways in which Emma and her story are unlike the heroines and stories of Austen’s earlier novels. She is the only heroine in any of Austen’s completed novels whose name is the title. Austen’s other novels are titled either after an abstract quality or estate important to the novel. Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and Persuasion are all titles that reflect the ideological struggles of the book, and the qualities that different people can possess and that affect their interactions with other people. Northanger Abbey and Mansfield Park are both estates central to the novel. It is interesting to note the importance of what these titles represent in the marriages of the heroines. In the first three novels mentioned, the titular abstract qualities divide the heroine from marriage to a worthy man, until they can overcome those qualities. In the last two novels mentioned, the estates in the titles are those belonging to the families that the heroine will marry into, although both men involved are second sons and will not inherit. Emma, in contrast, is a title that implies the self-sufficiency of the novel's heroine. It is a novel in which her marriage happens, but her romance with Mr. Knightley and consequent marriage are of less importance than the changes that she goes through as a person and her interactions with others. The title implies something that Emma states clearly early in the novel, when she says,

"And I am not only, not going to be married, at present, but have very little intention of ever marrying at all. [...] I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry. Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! but I have never been in love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall. [...] Fortune I do not want; employment I do not want; consequence I do not want." (84)

Emma’s wealth means that marriage is not only not necessary, but perhaps even unappealing. She is granted a great deal of personal freedom and independence, by her economic security, that other Austen heroines do not have. Instead, of course, she searches for the husbands of others. The title also implies her preoccupation with herself, for “The real evils indeed of Emma’s situation were the power of having rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself” (5). This is another luxury many of Austen’s other heroines cannot afford. They must be able to observe and think of other people, or they will not find a husband. Emma may not be an astute observer of human character, but in the end, it cannot hurt her. For her, trying to understand others is a game that she enjoys. For the other heroines of Austen, it is essential to their lives and their happiness.

Emma is described at the beginning of the story in very thorough, and surprisingly masculine, detail. There is little depth given to her at the beginning of the novel, but she is given a very good outline: “Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in this world with very little to distress or vex her” (5). The adjectives used to describe Emma here are surprising. Although many Austen female characters are described as “handsome” or “clever,” the two qualities are seldom united so coherently, as a part of a statement of character, or so forcefully. Individually, the qualities are masculine. Emma is first described as handsome, rather than beautiful, pretty, or lovely. She is clever, rather than witty, elegant, or intelligent. Finally, she is rich, an adjective never before applied to an Austen heroine. The individual masculinity of each word, coupled with other words of similar power, creates an image of masculinity in Emma. Her sexuality and gender are never doubted, of course, but her presence and power in the story are very like that of a man. Many of Austen’s heroines, like Fanny Price and Elinor and Marianne Dashwood, have had youths troubled by the financial situations of their family, whereas Emma has never had cause to worry. She is an heiress, and has lived her life in the carefree way normally exhibited by the young male heirs of Austen. She is rather erratic in her pursuits: “She played and sang;– and drew in almost every style; but steadiness has always been wanting; and in nothing had she approached the degree of excellence which she would have been glad to command, and ought not to have failed of” (44). Her ways of spending her time are like those of the male heirs, who choose an equally erratic course of self-improvement and sporting. Her diversions are appropriate to a woman of her status, but she has no need to develop them to use to impress a future husband. She is able to idle away her time in a way that prevents her from being as accomplished as society would expect a woman of her stature to be.

In her friendship with Harriet Smith, Emma sometimes appears more to be a lover or an admirer rather than a friend. Her qualities and situation create a parallel between herself and the male heirs of Austen, and make her a foil to the struggling heroines of preceding novels. It is her friendship with Harriet, however, that creates a parallel between the romances of Austen’s earlier novels and Emma. In many ways, Harriet Smith is like the heroines of Austen’s earlier novels. She is unaffected, like Catherine Morland, and inexplicably good-natured and elegant, like Fanny Price. Her description is marked by femininity in a way that Emma’s is not:

"She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be a sort which Emma particularly admired. [...] Emma was as much pleased with her manner as her person, and quite determined to continue the acquaintance. She was not struck by anything remarkably clever in Miss Smith’s conversation, but she found her altogether very engaging– not inconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk– and yet so far rom pushing, shewing so proper and becoming a deference, seeming so artlessly impressed." (23)

Harriet is not “handsome,” like Emma, but “very pretty.” She is not “remarkably clever,” but “very engaging” and “artlessly impressed,” qualities to be treasured in a heroine being courted by a lover. Emma is pleased by how incredibly thorough Harriet’s femininity is, in her balance of introversion and extroversion, and general sense of good manners. Although she is poor and her family questionable, she seems to have good breeding and natural elegance. However, Emma is also struck by Harriet’s beauty, and actually “admired” it in a way not unlike that of a suitor. When she decides to become better friends with Harriet, it is because “Those soft blue eyes and all those natural graces should not be wasted on the inferior society of Highbury and its connections” (23). Emma’s belief in Harriet’s superiority is not lightly invested in Harriet’s beauty, and because of her esteem of that beauty, she believes that Harriet must be marked for a greater place in society than she perhaps actually merits. Harriet is a good and caring person, but her intelligence and refinement are not enough to allow her to marry into society much higher than that she was born into. If Emma were a man, perhaps she would marry Harriet, but no man in the novel of the higher class expresses romantic interest in her.

Emma’s relationship with Harriet bears a strong resemblance to some of the common marriages in Austen’s earlier novels. Emma is seduced by Harriet’s good looks and good humor. One of the characters often used in Austen novels is the intelligent and sensible man who marries a silly woman because his pleasure in her good nature and beauty makes him believe that he loves her. Mr. Bennet of Pride and Prejudice and Mr. Palmer of Sense and Sensibility are two examples of this kind of character. Emma is a related character, although obviously she is a woman and her relationship with Harriet Smith will never be more than friendship. She defends a marriage of the kind that these men pursue, telling Mr. Knightley that Harriet’s beauty and kindness make her “exactly what every man delights in– what at once bewitches his senses and satisfies his judgment” (64). She does not foresee the unfortunate consequence that Mr. Bennet and Mr. Palmer experience, of not having an intellectual and emotional companion and equal once beauty has faded away and good nature has worn thin. Mr. Knightley protests against Emma, saying that “Men of sense, whatever you may chuse to say, do not want silly wives” (64). Their disagreement on this subject is one of the first strange elements of the relationship between Emma and Mr. Knightley. It is perhaps Emma’s masculinity, and the way that she interacts with Mr. Knightley in that masculinity, that make this relationship so strange. Their relationship never seems charged with the same sexuality and attraction that exists between many Austen’s earlier couples, like Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, or Marianne and Willoughby or Colonel Brandon. It is instead, more like the semi-incestuous relationship between Fanny Price and Edmund Bertram in Mansfield Park. The two characters seem more like brother and sister than husband and wife. Emma’s argument for the traditionally male role held by some of the characters in Austen’s earlier books, and Knightley’s dispute of it, reverses their gender associations. Their relationship is a bizarre one, but it is presumably based on love, even if it is one that the reader can’t entirely understand. If the masculinity is the cause of the strangeness in the relationship, what makes it strange also sanctions it. She and Mr. Knightley are so wealthy that they can act as they wish and how they wish, with some license as to societal restrictions.

In contrast, Emma’s relationship with Harriet is more like the traditional relationships of Austen’s novels. Harriet need not make a bad wife, or eventually become a silly person. Mr. Knightley says, “Her character depends on those she is with; but in good hands she will turn out a valuable woman” (58). There is a good chance of her improvement. In Austen’s novels, a good match is generally considered to be one where the two partners are roughly equal, but can learn from each other. In some cases, one partner is significantly more superior to the other. If the other partner’s disposition is open to learning, however, this does not pose a problem. For example, in Northanger Abbey, the marriage between Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney is a happy one because his character is superior to hers, and from him, she can learn much about improving her mind and elegance. Often, Henry Tilney seems arrogant in his corrections of Catherine, but it is a necessary arrogance, one that corrects Catherine. Similarly, Emma decides that in her friendship with Harriet Smith,

She would notice her; she would improve her; she would detach her from her bad acquaintance, and introduce her into good society; she would form her opinions and her manners. It would be an interesting, and certainly a very kind undertaking; highly becoming her own situation in life, her leisure, and powers." (24)

A young male heir’s choosing a wife to spend the rest of his life with, and possibly improve, would be one “highly becoming” his “own situation in life,” his “leisure, and powers.” What would be, with a woman like Harriet Smith, romance and marriage for him, is friendship for Emma. The relationship differs by degrees of passion. Like Henry Tilney, Emma is condescending to another character, securely believing in her superiority and ability to improve others simply through acquaintance. She does, however, have some influence over Harriet Smith. Even Mr. Knightley confesses that “you [Emma] have improved her. You have cured her of her school-girl’s giggle” (58). Emma, then, fulfills the same function for Harriet that a husband would fulfill in Austen’s other novels. The difference is, of course, that there is no romance, but an interest motivated by the masculinity of Emma’s situation and the ways in which that situation has shaped her character.

Emma is allowed some indolence in her life because of her wealth. She can afford not to dedicate herself to her studies and to play at match-making, rather than focus on what might be called a serious pursuit. This indolence is characteristic of male heirs in Austen’s novels, ad it is one of the ways in which Emma’s wealth makes her a more masculine character and presence in the novel. Austen makes her a character for whom wealth makes all the difference; she has the same sorts of good qualities as other Austen heroines, but a greater wealth gives her a freedom and independence that these heroines lack. Austen is not advocating Emma as an ideal heroine, embracing masculine freedom over feminine repression, although she certainly doesn’t think badly of young women having wealth. Instead, Austen’s work is a challenge to herself and an intellectual puzzle. She writes novels that deliberately go against what she has written before, asking herself questions to provoke these changes. What happens when a heroine with the intelligence and beauty of a character like Elizabeth Bennet or Marianne Dashwood is given wealth and security? What does society consider masculine or feminine? How does wealth and this kind of gender manipulation affect marriage? In Emma, the effects of the author’s manipulations are radical, and distinctly change the way that the heroine functions within the novel.


WORKS CITED

Austen, Jane. Emma. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

The Gothic in Mansfield Park

Jane Austen parodies the genre of Gothic romance in one of her earliest novels, Northanger Abbey. The heroine, Catherine Morland, is a reader whose enthusiasm is unfortunately misguided. After reading novels like The Mysteries of Udolpho, by Ann Radcliffe, she sees elements of the Gothic in the events of her everyday life. When she goes to Northanger Abbey, the home of her beloved Henry Tilney, she expects it will have all the excitement and danger of the deserted abbey in The Romance of the Forest, also by Ann Radcliffe. When she finally realizes that her life is not like that of a Gothic heroine, she denounces the Gothic as irrelevant to the lives of real people living in England. It is this passage which seems to outline the goals of the book, and of Jane Austen as a beginning writer. As a contemporary of female novelists specializing in Gothic romance, she decides that something very different is relevant for herself and her readers. Her later novel, Mansfield Park, is an amalgamation of many genres and in the end, can be defined by none; one of these genres, however, is very definitely the Gothic. Mansfield Park is more profoundly a Gothic novel than Northanger Abbey ever is. Although the Gothic is never acknowledged directly, it seems that, contrary to her character’s declaration, Austen has decided that it is indeed a relevant style to depicting the lives of the gentry in England.

The characteristics of Catherine Morland are not those typical of a Gothic heroine. Her qualities are contradictory, at least for the terms in which a literary heroine of the period could be described. She has

"neither a bad heart nor a bad temper; was seldom stubborn, scarcely ever quarrelsome, and very kind to the little ones, with few interruptions of tyranny; she was moreover noisy and wild, hated confinement and cleanliness, and loved nothing so well in the world as rolling down the green slope at the back of the house." (Northanger Abbey 2)

There are two sets of qualities, separated by the second semicolon, described in this passage. The two sets of qualities do not necessarily contradict each other, and could probably both be found in one character. However, they seem unlikely to be combined in a traditional Gothic heroine, and certainly are not combined in Fanny Price. In the second half of the passage, she both “hated” and “loved,” and is “noisy and wild.” Her emotions range to extremes, and she lacks the refinement to control them. She is ten years old when described by this passage, but by the end of the novel, she is still only eighteen years old. She is more mature, and this maturity may bring the refinement necessary to control herself, but it is difficult to believe that she destroys the emotions and inclinations so essential to her personality as a child. The moderation implied by the first half of the passage is everything important to a Gothic heroine; it implies modesty, gentleness, kindness, and malleability. The second half of the passage, however, calls into question the accuracy of the first half, and certainly does not depict a modest young woman.

The events of the novel are no more conducive to a Gothic structure than the elements of Catherine’s personality are to making her a traditional Gothic heroine. She spends most of the novel with wealthy friends vacationing in Bath and comes from a family of ten children, where the father “had a considerable independence, besides two good livings” (1). Catherine is a part of a large family, but not a poor one. Any problems between Henry Tilney and herself are quickly resolved. Their engagement at the end of the novel occurs without any great strife on either side. Perhaps it is this lack of struggle in her life that so induces her to long for Gothic influence. When she travels to Northanger Abbey, she is displeased to find General Tilney has added modern apartments to the original structure. The house is clean and orderly, lacking any elements of the Gothic, a deficiency which her imagination soon makes up for. She is unable to avoid the truth for long, however. Catherine believes that General Tilney might have killed his wife, and is found lingering outside her apartments by Henry Tilney. Henry confronts her on the subject and she is mortified by his insight and by her own folly. She realizes that her speculations were completely incorrect, and is embarrassed that Henry is privy to her misjudgment. It is this embarrassment which leads to the declaration mentioned above, when Catherine realizes that her life simply is not like a Gothic novel:

"Charming as were all Mrs. Radcliffe’s works, and charming even as were the works of all her imitators, it was not in them perhaps that human nature, at least in the midland counties of England, was to be looked for. Of the Alps and Pyrenees, with their pine forests and their vices, they might give a faithful delineation; and Italy, Switzerland, and the South of France, might be as fruitful in horrors as they were there represented. [...] But in the central part of England there was surely some security for the existence even of a wife not beloved, in the laws and of the land, and the manners of the age. [...] Among the English, she believed, in their hearts and habits, there was a general though unequal mixture of good and bad." (141)

It is almost an excuse for the presence of the Gothic parody in the novel. Austen becomes one of the “imitators” and Northanger Abbey one of the “charming [...] works.” It is as though Austen has written the parody as an exercise in composition, but uses this passage to specify the real purpose of her work. She does not intend for the novel to be solely defined as a parody of a genre or as a member of that genre, but to be the first of a new genre. It is a novel entirely specific to the spirit of England; it is a Gothic novel prevented from actually being a Gothic novel by cultural limitations. Austen’s novels are romances limited to the often intellectual and often morally-driven world of the English gentry, concerned with family, marriage, and money. The rest of the novel introduces her use of this form, and her passage on the Gothic declares her intentions for using the form in the future. It is in this passage that she addresses the work of her female contemporaries, and indicates that she will not and cannot write the same kinds of works that they do.

Mansfield Park is a novel that is influenced by many genres, but ultimately rejects them all. Although the Gothic is one of these genres, it is not the only one to be considered and dismissed by the author. Surprisingly, Austen takes the new genre she creates in Northanger Abbey, and which she had developed in her two following novels, and overturns that as well. The novel does, however, focus on Austen’s regular subjects, the English gentry, and the ways in which family and marriage operate in their society. Her previous novel, Pride and Prejudice, is a charismatic and romantic comedy of manners. The characters are witty and good-natured, and as near perfect as any of the characters in any of her novels. The plot of the novel is the struggle of the two main characters, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, to become even nearer perfection before they can fall in love and marry. Mansfield Park is a love story as well. Fanny is in love with her cousin, Edmund Bertram, and has been for many years. Perhaps a reader would expect the characters to be similar in many respects to those directly preceding them, but instead, they are very near the opposite. The only qualities they share with Elizabeth and Darcy are intelligence and a general goodness. Otherwise, Edmund and Fanny are puritanical, judgmental, and humorless. Mary and Henry Crawford more resemble displaced characters from Pride and Prejudice, with their wit and liveliness, and at the end of the novel, they are completely disregarded. If they were the main characters of the novel, and if Mansfield Park had the same spirit as its predecessor, Henry would undoubtedly win the heart of Fanny, and Mary would marry Edmund. It would be a happy ending for all involved. When this does not happen, it is a rejection of Austen’s own genre, at least as far as her previous novels suggest that genre to be.

Austen never addresses the influence of the Gothic novel on Mansfield Park as directly as she does in Northanger Abbey, but its influence is felt as strongly and with more relevance to the events of the story. Unlike Catherine Morland, Fanny Price actually is very like a Gothic heroine. She, like Catherine, has “neither a bad heart nor a bad temper; was seldom stubborn, scarcely ever quarrelsome, and very kind to the little ones, with few interruptions of tyranny.” She is just as good-natured and good-tempered, although perhaps more saintly. In the description of Fanny’s character, “seldom” and “scarcely ever” would both be replaced with “never,” and “few” with “no.” These modifiers create doubt in the first half of the passage in Northanger Abbey, and it is a doubt amplified by the direct reference to Catherine’s wildness in the second half of the passage. In Mansfield Park, there could be no such doubt about the nature of Fanny’s character, for no modifiers of doubt could ever appear. It is interesting to note that when Fanny is first described, she too is ten years old; however, she is very different from Catherine at that age. She is

"small of her age, with no glow of complexion, nor any other striking beauty; exceedingly timid and shy, and shrinking from notice; but her air, though awkward, was not vulgar, her voice was sweet, and when she spoke, her countenance was pretty." (Mansfield Park 9)

Fanny is as feminine and shy as Catherine is tomboyish and outgoing. In Northanger Abbey, Catherine’s awkwardness is referred to as an embarrassment. Fanny has no such problem. She may be awkward, but it is not unbecoming, because Fanny is so modest and delicate. This is just as prevalent when she attends her first ball as when she was ten years old: “Young, pretty, and gentle, however, she had no awkwardnesses that were not as good as graces” (250). What is a fault in Catherine is a virtue in Fanny. The power of modesty and femininity is one that the Gothic heroine unconsciously wields, and its presence in Fanny marks her as graced in a way that Catherine is not.

Fanny’s background resembles that of a Gothic heroine in several respects. Her life is not as comfortable as that of Catherine. She, too, comes from a large family. In Catherine’s family, a large family is the origin of intimacy and affection. A greater number of siblings means a greater number of people to love and to be loved by. In Fanny’s family, a greater number of siblings means a greater number of people for her parents to divide their attention among. Poverty and ill-breeding make it even more difficult for Fanny to find happiness in her family. Her mother feels plagued by a “large and still increasing family, a husband disabled for active service, but not the less equal to company and good liquor, and a very small income to supply their wants” (3). Mrs. Price, like Mrs. Bertram, is an indolent woman. If she had married a wealthy man, she would be able to devote her attention entirely to her children and might make each feel individually cared for and loved. However, in poverty, she is also responsible for housekeeping. Her laziness prevents her from giving anything the proper attention it deserves, and so Fanny is neglected. Fanny, like a Gothic heroine, resembles an orphan, although it is the result of poverty and her parents’s disinterest, rather than death, that leaves her in this state. Mrs. Price is pleased when the Bertrams and Mrs. Norris offer to take care of Fanny for her. Fanny, then, is like the orphan adopted by a family almost entirely strange to her, due to the feud in her family that began before her birth.

Once Fanny is living with the Bertrams, she becomes as much like a Cinderella figure as it is possible for a member of the English gentry to be. For her bedroom, she is assigned “the little white attic, near the old nurseries [...] close by the housemaids” (7). Mrs. Norris frequently sends her on errands from Mansfield Park to her house, although she could just as easily do them herself. Fanny’s health is almost unbelievably precarious, and even exertion such as this exhausts her. Mrs. Norris ignores the effect of her tasking, always treating Fanny as a willing servant. More importantly to her status as a heroine, Fanny is always made aware of being a part of the lower class. Sir Thomas Bertram hopes that he will “preserve in the minds of [his] daughters the consciousness of what they are, without making them think too lowly of their cousin; and how, without depressing her spirits too far, to make her remember she is not a Miss Bertram” (8). He succeeds in this. Fanny is always aware that she is inferior to her cousins, although the truth of this assumption is challenged throughout the novel and proved wrong by the Miss Bertrams’s misdeeds at the end of the novel. This awareness contributes to her modesty as a heroine, but also instills something even more important in her. Because she is aware of being lower, she must always be aware of the ability to rise, and of the level of being a “Miss Bertram” as one above her own. In becoming Edmund’s wife, then, she ascends the social ladder as she has always known it, a movement characteristic of the Gothic heroine.

The trials of Fanny’s life are not limited to those experienced because of her family, and they achieve some of the dramatic effect of the Gothic novel. Like Adeline of The Romance of the Forest, Fanny is pursued by a suitor whom she cannot encourage and whose sins are always very apparent to her. Henry Crawford has flirted with both of the Bertram sisters and they have both fallen in love with him. When he falls in love with Fanny and asks her to marry him, she cannot accept him. She is in love with Edmund and, even were she not, knows too well the truth of Henry’s character. When he proposes, she says,

"No, no, no. [...] This is all nonsense. Do not distress me. I can hear no more of this. Your kindness to William makes me more obliged to you than words can express; but I do not want, I cannot bear, I must not listen to such– No, no, don’t think of me. But you are not thinking of me. I know it is all nothing." (273)

This refusal seems very clear. Part of her confusion is based in her modesty; she believes that Henry Crawford, who has seduced and known so many women, cannot possibly have chosen to marry her. But it is also largely based in her dislike of him and her continuing love for Edmund. Like Elizabeth Bennet’s refusal of Mr. Collins in Pride and Prejudice, it is met with amazement and distrust by the suitor. Henry criticizes her ability to judge the situation properly. He believes that she will either fall in love with him in time, or is too modest to believe her fortune now. He continues to court her. The unwanted suitor is coupled with another element of the Gothic novel, the father figure who betrays the heroine to the suitor. Sir Thomas tricks Fanny into seeing Henry Crawford again, and considers her travel to Portsmouth essentially a banishment during which she will realize why she should marry Henry. When Fanny tells Sir Thomas that she cannot marry Henry, he tells her that she has “shewn [him] that [she] can be wilful and perverse, that [she] can and will decide for [herself], without any consideration or deference for those who have surely some right to guide her” (288). These are qualities to be treasured in a character like Elizabeth Bennet, an independent and intelligent woman so thoroughly a product of Austen’s self-formed genre. They are to be despised in a character like a Gothic heroine, but only if that character is actually making a bad decision. Fanny is not trying to be perverse, but actually senses where the virtue of the situation lies. She is the heroine trapped by a father figure who decides the truth inaccurately and condemns her as being what she is not.

The novel ends happily, with Fanny’s marriage to reward her goodness and a punishment for evil truly fit for a Gothic novel. After Maria has an affair with Henry Crawford, she is rejected by him. Her family refuses to accept her. However, Mrs. Norris refuses to live without her, and still defends her as her favorite. The novel examines two generations of women. In the first, there are the three sisters: Mrs. Norris, Lady Bertram, and Mrs. Price. In the second, there are the three cousins: Maria Bertram, Julia Bertram, and Fanny Price. In both generations, it is the eldest who seems to have the most evil in her. At the end of the novel, both of these evil women are easily disposed of in “an establishment being formed for them in another country– remote and private, where, shut up together with little society, on one side no affection, on the other, no judgment, it may be reasonably supposed that their tempers became their mutual punishment” (424). Maria and Mrs. Norris are cloistered together, living a life of celibacy and mutual discontent. This “remote and private” home is essentially a convent, a staple of the Gothic novel. Catherine Morland believes that the events of a Gothic novel could not possibly take place in England. In Mansfield Park, they do. The movement of the characters to a traditionally Gothic setting in another country integrates England into the action of a Gothic novel, geographically, breaking down the beliefs of Catherine.

Why does Austen decide to reverse her earlier statement and suddenly make the Gothic an integral, plausible, and accepted part of her fourth novel? It is necessary to keep in mind that she does not do this entirely. The importance of other genres in the novel, and the refusal on the part of the author to make Mansfield Park a genre novel as defined by any preexisting genre, prevents the novel from becoming decidedly a Gothic novel. Instead, it seems to be a movement back to Northanger Abbey. She uses the style first rejected in that novel to create a new style of writing, and in not using it as the defining genre of her novel, rejects it along with that new style that emerged in her earliest novel. Rather than subscribing to any one style, Austen is insistently creating and experimenting with her novels, and here, she defies genre. She advocates the ability of the author to use different genres as necessary, but to keep the novel independent from any definition by those genres. The Gothic, then, becomes an approach to experimentalism through attention to a traditional form.


WORKS CITED

Austen, Jane. Mansfield Park. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991.

Austen, Jane. Northanger Abbey. New York: Dover, 2000.

Saturday, May 28, 2005

Pride and Prejudice

At the beginning of Pride and Prejudice, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet discuss the arrival of Mr. Bingley in the neighborhood. Mrs. Bennet hopes that this rich, young bachelor will marry one of her five daughters. Mr. Bennet delights in Mrs. Bennet's silliness and makes her think that he will not call on Bingley, thus making it difficult for any sort of visiting to be arranged. However, he does visit Bingley, and Bingley returns the visit, although he doesn't meet any of the daughters. They do meet at a ball following soon afterward, however, and Bingley is charmed by the eldest daughter, Jane. Jane is beautiful and sensible. The next oldest, Elizabeth, is pretty and lively and intelligent. Mary is plain, stodgy, and pompous. Kitty is silly and looks only to Lydia, the youngest, who is vivacious and active but flighty. Bingley travels with his sister and friend, Mr. Darcy. Darcy refuses to dance with Elizabeth, saying she is not attractive enough to tempt him. Elizabeth, understandably, is offended and makes fun of him.

As soon as Darcy calls her plain, he begins to find her attractive. Without meaning to, he falls in love with her, enchanted by her beauty and wit and spirit. Elizabeth doesn't realize it. One day, Jane goes to visit the Bingleys, and stays for the night because of the weather. She falls ill and Elizabeth comes to stay with the family and nurse Jane back to health. Elizabeth doesn't like Miss Bingley-- she is petty and obviously sets her sights on Darcy. Miss Bingley is aware of Darcy's growing admiration of Elizabeth and makes fun of her to him, trying to convince him that she is not worth his attention. Bingley is still very much in love with Jane. When Jane has recovered, they go home.

Lydia and Kitty spend a lot of time in town, where the militia is stationed, going to balls with officers.

Mr. Bennet receives a letter from his nephew, Mr. Collins, who will receive the estate after Mr. Bennet has died. Mr. Collins wants to come visit, and so he does. He very obviously decides to marry one of the Bennet daughters to make up for his inheritance, and decides to marry Elizabeth. Unfortunately, Mr. Collins is pompous and silly and annoying. Elizabeth is less than pleased, and when Mr. Collins finally does propose to her, she rejects him. Elizabeth's friend Charlotte Lucas, a practical girl of 28, goes after Mr. Collins and he proposes to her. Charlotte accepts. Elizabeth is horrified, but Charlotte assures her that all she wants is financial security. Elizabeth also finds herself in the middle of romantic intrigue when the family meets an officer named Mr. Wickham. They meet him in the street, as Darcy is passing by, and Elizabeth notes the discomfort of both men. Wickham tells her that he was raised by Darcy's father and was a favorite of his, and was promised a parsonage at Pemberley, Darcy's estate. However, Darcy denied him the living. Elizabeth grows even angrier at Darcy for this, and finds herself enchanted by Wickham's grace and wit and good looks. She looks for him at a ball held by Bingley, but of course he is not there. Darcy, however, asks her to dance and she is surprised enough that she accepts. She doesn't understand it. Mrs. Bennet speaks of Bingley and Jane's marriage within the hearing of Darcy.

Bingley leaves for London on business, planning to return soon. However, the rest of the party follows soon after, and Miss Bingley sends a note to Jane, telling her that they will not return. She says that she hopes Bingley will marry Miss Darcy. Jane is upset and thinks that Bingley does not love her. Elizabeth realizes the truth. The Gardiners, intelligent and well-bred relatives who deal in trade, invite Jane to visit them in London and she accepts. She is not visited by Bingley and so she believes that he must have forgotten about her. Elizabeth, at home, loses the attentions of Wickham as he begins to court a very rich young woman instead. She then goes to visit Charlotte, who has married Mr. Collins. While staying with her, she meets Mr. Collins's patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Lady Catherine is Darcy's aunt, and is a rude, elitist old woman. She hopes that Darcy will marry her sickly daughter. Darcy comes to visit and proposes to Elizabeth, making it very evident that his proposal is one of passion and he cannot believe that he is making such an imprudent match. Elizabeth rejects him, citing his pride, destruction of her sister's happiness, and cruelty to Wickham. The next day, Darcy gives Elizabeth a letter, explaining that Wickham actually turned down the living for a monetary compensation instead, and then tried to seduce and elope with Miss Darcy.

Elizabeth is shocked and realizes she has been wrong.

Elizabeth goes home, collecting Jane on her way. Lydia leaves for Brighton with a wife of one of the officers. The Gardiners come to visit and take Elizabeth for a short holiday in the country. While they are there, they go to visit Pemberley. Elizabeth is nervous, but is told that Darcy will not return until the next day. As they are touring the grounds, Darcy stumbles upon them. Both are mortified, but he is very kind and courteous to her and her family. Elizabeth realizes that he must still love her, and while they are in the country, he pays her visits and she comes to Pemberley. She meets Miss Darcy and finds her charming. One day, Elizabeth gets a letter saying that Lydia has eloped with Wickham, but that it's doubtful that they will marry. Elizabeth goes home, and the Gardiners return to London to search for Lydia. They meet with success-- for a very small amount of money, Wickham agrees to marry Lydia-- and the marriage takes place. Mr. Bennet knows Mr. Gardiner must have bribed him with much more money.

Lydia and Wickham come to visit their family and are met with joy only by Mrs. Bennet. Lydia reveals that Darcy had some role in what took place. Elizabeth writes to Mrs. Gardiner and asks what this might be. Mrs. Gardiner says that Darcy hunted Wickham down and bribed him to marry Lydia, paying him with cash and with a place in the military. He also attended the wedding. Elizabeth is amazingly gratified and finds herself believing she might love Darcy.

Lady Catherine unexpectedly shows up and, rather rudely, tells Elizabeth that she'd better not have her sights on Darcy. Elizabeth is offended and tells her that she will marry as she likes. Lady Catherine's sense of elitism is challenged by her impertinence and after scolding her, she storms off. Mr. Bennet receives a letter from Mr. Collins advocating Lady Catherine's case.

Bingley and Darcy come to visit. Bingley reveals that he thought Jane didn't love him, but on finding her in love, proposes and is accepted. Darcy proposes soon afterwards and is likewise accepted. After some trouble trying to prove to everyone else that she doesn't hate Darcy, all is well. There is a double wedding and Elizabeth goes to Pemberley, and the Bingleys settle nearby.

I feel like that's a pretty short summary.

Sense and Sensibility

Sense and Sensibility begins with the death of Mr. Dashwood. His estate goes to his son, John Dashwood. John Dashwood is the son of Mr. Dashwood and his first wife; however, after her death, Mr. Dashwood married again and so John has a stepmother and three half-sisters, Elinor, Marianne, and Margaret. On his deathbed, Mr. Dashwood asks John to make sure the rest of his family has money, and John agrees. John's wife, Fanny, manages to persuade him not to give his stepmother and sisters anything. Fanny is selfish, and has further reason to be displeased with the family, since her brother, Edward Ferrars, seems to be in love with Elinor.

Elinor, by the way, is the one with sense, and Marianne is the one with sensibility. Elinor is rational and polite and Marianne is passionate and enthusiastic.

Elinor is in love with Edward, but accepts it when her family is offered a small cottage by the boisterous Sir John Middleton. Mrs. Dashwood, Elinor, Marianne, and Margaret move to the cottage and are received by Sir John and his cold and insipid wife Lady Middleton. The family adjusts fairly well until one day, Marianne and Margaret go for a walk and meet John Willoughby. It has been raining and Marianne and Margaret race down a hill to get home quickly. Marianne slips and hurts her ankle, and sees her and sweeps her up in his arms and carries her home. Marianne is embarrassed but the family is pleased. He becomes a frequent visitor at the cottage, and he and Marianne fall in love. They talk of their favorite art and mock others. One of the people they mock is Colonel Brandon, a bachelor in his thirties, who has also fallen in love with Marianne. Elinor, however, esteems the Colonel and defends him.

One day, they are all together at the Middleton's home, Barton Park. Colonel Brandon receives a message from London and has to leave suddenly. Willoughby mocks him. Soon afterwards, Willoughby, too, leaves for London. Marianne is devastated, but Elinor and her mother are consoled by the thought of her engagement to Willoughby. Although no engagement has been declared, their behavior has been so intimate that if they aren't engaged, it would be improper and scandalous. More visitors come to Barton Park, some young cousins of Lady Middleton's mother, Mrs. Jennings. Mrs. Jennings is vulgar and kind and loud, and she is fond of both these new girls and the Dashwood sisters. Miss Steele, the eldest of the two girls, is silly and stupid and vulgar. Lucy Steele, the younger, is beautiful and intelligent, but ignorant and mean and vulgar, as well. When Lucy hears Elinor being teased about Edward Ferrars, she decides to confide in her. Lucy tells Elinor that she has been engaged to Edward for four years, and that it is a secret because his wealth is largely dependent on the whims of his mother. Elinor doesn't believe it at first, but Lucy produces proof and Elinor realizes that it is the truth. She hides her devastation from her family.

Mrs. Jennings offers to take Elinor and Marianne to London with her and Marianne is thrilled. She thinks only of seeing Willoughby again. Elinor consents when she sees how happy Marianne is. When they get to town, Marianne sends Willoughby several letters, but he does not responding, calling on them only when they are out. Marianne is upset, but when she sees him at a ball, immediately rushes to him. He rebuffs her, and she is stunned. The next day she sends him an angry letter, and he responds with a letter saying that he doesn't love her, and returning a lock of hair she gave him. Marianne is heartbroken and she and Elinor cry a bit. Marianne spends the next few days crying and moping. Colonel Brandon calls on them. When Colonel Brandon learns that Marianne and Willoughby will not be married, he is happy, and tells Elinor a story to console Marianne. He was in love with a woman who was very like Marianne. She was married against her will and his to his brother. She was then cast off, and they were divorced, and she disappeared and became a prostitute. Colonel Brandon finally found her, but she died and left her daughter in his care. Colonel Brandon raised this girl and let her go with some friends to Bath, but then she disappeared. When he received the message, it was to say that she had been found and was pregnant. The father is Willoughby. Colonel Brandon challenged him to a duel and they both emerged unhurt.

Elinor tells Marianne the story and Marianne is consoled. She is then heartbroken again when Willoughby marries the incredibly wealthy Miss Grey.

Lucy and Miss Steele come to London to stay with Lady Middleton. John and Fanny Dashwood come to London, as well, and are introduced to the Steeles and the Middletons. They are delighted with each and invite the Steeles to stay with them. Even Mrs. Ferrars, Edward's mother, likes Lucy, but only because she wants Elinor to feel that she is disliked. The Steeles only stay with the Dashwoods for a few days, before Miss Steele reveals that Fanny and Edward are engaged. The Dashwoods kick Lucy out. Mrs. Ferrars disowns Edward, deciding to give her wealth to her younger son, Robert, instead. Colonel Brandon comes to Elinor and tells her that if Edward will take orders, he can have a living at Delaford, Brandon's estate. Elinor tells Edward and he is grateful, if embarrassed. Elinor knows that he loves her but is stuck in his engagement.

Elinor and Marianne go with Colonel Brandon, Mrs. Jennings, the Palmers (Lady Middleton's sister and her husband), and the Middletons to Cleveland, the Palmers's estate. Marianne is still very depressed about Willoughby and goes wandering around by herself outside for hours every day. One day it is particularly wet and cold, and she becomes very ill. Elinor and Marianne were to go home to Barton Cottage after staying at Cleveland, but the doctor says to send for Mrs. Dashwood, as Marianne appears to be dying. Everyone else but Mrs. Jennings and Colonel Brandon has left Cleveland, for the safety of the children. Colonel Brandon goes for Mrs. Dashwood, glad to be of use. While he is gone, Marianne's fever breaks. She is recovering when Willoughby comes to Cleveland. He has heard of Marianne's illness and, out of fear, came to see her. He only sees Elinor, and tells her that he regrets marrying for money. He loves Marianne. He hints that if his wife should die, he'd marry Marianne. Elinor sympathizes, but can do nothing, and he leaves. Colonel Brandon and Mrs. Dashwood arrive and are both relieved that Marianne will not die.

They come back to Barton. Elinor tells Marianne what Willoughby said and Marianne is satisfied, because she realizes that her behavior was improper and that she wouldn't have been really happy married to Willoughby, and that Willoughby did actually love her. Elinor confesses to Marianne the truth about Edward as well. They receive news that Lucy has married Mr. Ferrars, and Elinor is devastated. Edward shows up, and it is very awkward until he reveals that Lucy married his brother, Robert, instead, apparently for his money. Elinor is so unexpectedly happy that she bursts into tears and runs out of the room. Edward proposes to Elinor and she accepts. Colonel Brandon visits the cottage frequently and he and Marianne become good friends. She agrees to marry him.

All are married, and all settle at Delaford. They are close to their family at Barton, and Elinor and Marianne are particularly close to each other.

Friday, May 27, 2005

Suspense, narrative omniscience, and love in Pride and Prejudice

Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen, is a novel of suspense. It operates on one basic question: will Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy marry? This question motivates the plot, and the novel ends when it is answered in the affirmative. Yet despite this, it isn’t a particularly suspenseful novel. Even as the possibility of marriage between Elizabeth and Darcy is imperilled, the reader knows that the two will eventually return each other’s love and marry. This certainty emerges from the intimacy of the narrator with the thoughts, emotions, and experiences of the characters. In her earlier novels, Northanger Abbey and Sense and Sensibility, the narrator is not so omniscient, and the characters are left a greater degree of mystery. In Pride and Prejudice, the reader is usually well-informed about the experiences of the characters. The narrator’s omniscience suspends the suspense of the novel, allowing the reader’s attention to focus elsewhere, and drawing it back to romance when the omniscience fails.

Elizabeth and Darcy begin their relationship badly, but their dislike does not exist mutually for very long. When Bingley suggests that Darcy should dance with Elizabeth, Darcy says,

"She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me." (12)

Despite its cruelty, or perhaps because of it, this speech foreshadows the love that Darcy will soon feel for Elizabeth. He knows nothing of her personality and he does not approve her looks; however, once he is later acquainted with her amiability and wit, he becomes appreciative of her beauty. He says that he is “in no humour at present” to associate with or pursue Elizabeth, but that implies a temporality to his disinclination. Elizabeth is no more pleased with him, after being so insulted, and “remained with no very cordial feelings towards him” (12). They’ve only just met, but the reader is already informed clearly about the state of their feelings toward each other. Although initially, this dislike doesn’t seem promising for their love, it is interesting that the dislike emerges out of a romantic situation. They cannot like each other because they are determined not to be in love with one another. But soon afterwards, Elizabeth “herself [is] becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of [Bingley’s] friend” (23). Darcy’s dislike– or at least, neutrality towards her– lasts for only a few days, at the most. He begins their acquaintance by criticizing her appearance, “But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes” (23). Elizabeth remains as opposed to him as she was before, for “to her he was only the man who had made himself agreeable no where, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with” (23). The reader is kept very aware of the feelings of the characters and the way in which those feelings change. The suspense perhaps created by their mutual dislike is weakened by the knowledge that it no longer exists for one of the characters.

After this point, the reader is always aware at least one of the two characters being in love, and most often, that character is Darcy. Darcy, although unappealing at the beginning of the novel, is essentially an attractive man. Because the main character is Elizabeth, whom the reader can identify with, it seems like the relationship is more probable if Darcy is the character whose love is assured. Darcy’s love continues to grow, exposed through his thoughts and conversation, and sometimes conversation about his thoughts. Darcy is honest, and although he seems aware of Miss Bingley’s intentions toward him, tells her, “I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow” (27). The reader is aware of his interest in Elizabeth’s beauty, and the banter they enjoy while she stays at Netherfield to nurse Jane during her illness implies a mental engagement as well. Darcy’s feelings soon become even stronger than they previously were, and he realizes that he “had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really believed, that were in not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in some danger” (52). This “danger” is “the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention” (58). When he has a conversation with her, he becomes more and more aware of her intelligence, wit, and liveliness. Although he thinks that the combination of avoiding her and always being aware of her low connections will keep him safe from loving Elizabeth, the reader is aware that he already is in love. He finally cannot restrain it anymore and proposes to her.

Elizabeth refuses Darcy, but the danger to their love and marriage is soon put out of the way. She is offended at his rudeness when he tells her of “His sense of her inferiority– of its being a degradation” (189). She accuses him of pride, destroying her sister’s possible happiness with Bingley, and injuring Wickham. His response to this is to give her the letter explaining the truth of his relationship with Wickham the next day. Immediately after reading the letter, Elizabeth feels “that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd” (208). The first moment of her feelings changing is in her knowledge that she had been prejudiced. It is difficult to say whether she is now unprejudiced, or whether her prejudice has just shifted to Darcy rather than Wickham, but she begins to feel kindness and then love for Darcy. She is touched when she sees his generosity and the ways in which he changes for her. The narrator tells the reader, “If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth’s change of sentiment will be neither improbable or faulty” (279). She has undergone a “change of sentiment” from hatred to this ambiguous “affection.” However, the ambiguity of her “affection” makes it clear to the reader that what she is experiencing is love, if a complex one; it is amalgamated from her gratitude for his good deeds, attraction to him physically and mentally, and even desire to be mistress of Pemberley and financially secure. Elizabeth sometimes doubts whether Darcy could still be in love after proposing and being rejected, but when he does so much good for her family and seems to have undergone a true change, she knows that “to love, ardent love, it must be attributed” (266). Elizabeth, the narrator, and the reader all know that Mr. Darcy is still in love. This is verified near the end of the novel, when Darcy says to her, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever” (366). Elizabeth is finally able to say of Darcy near this point in the book, “I love him” (376). She accepts his second proposal and they marry. The conclusion of the story is an expected one, never truly in doubt, because the narrator gives the reader such security and access to the emotions of the characters. Except for the beginning of the book, the reader is always assured of at least one of the two characters being in love, creating a sense that eventually the other character will return that love.

This method is used again in Elizabeth’s relationship with Mr. Collins. The narrator is equally straightforward in revealing Mr. Collins’s intentions and his plan to propose to Elizabeth. When he comes to Longbourn, “he intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters” (70). There is no confusion. The reader cannot possibly misunderstand Mr. Collins’s intentions, and he is so obvious about it, the other characters do not either. He first chooses Jane, for her beauty, and approaches Mrs. Bennet about it. However, Mrs. Bennet tells him of Jane’s attachment to Bingley, and so Mr. Collins “had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth– and it was soon done [...]. Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course” (71). Mr. Collin’s courtship of Elizabeth is, like the rest of his behavior, marked by pomposity and romanticism lacking the support of real emotion. He is so overt about it that his attentions to Elizabeth soon convince her “that she was selected from among her sisters as worthy of being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors” (88). As with Elizabeth’s relationship with Darcy, the knowledge of the emotions of both characters leads to a certainty of outcome. The reader knows that Elizabeth will not be surprised by Mr. Collins’s proposal, and the irony of her thoughts informs the reader that she does not think kindly of it. She will not accept when he does propose, and indeed, the resulting scene is exactly as the reader would expect. The creation of this relationship works as a foil to that between Elizabeth and Darcy. If Elizabeth’s feelings toward Mr. Collins had the possibility of changing, then their relationship might also have promise. But the omniscience of the narrator allows the reader to look at why Elizabeth will reject Mr. Collins; unlike Darcy, he lacks any romantic appeal and any ability to change for the better.

These relationships all reach their logical conclusions of a proposal, which is either accept or refused. But what happens when a relationship is aborted without ever reaching this stage? In Pride and Prejudice, almost all possible relationships end in a proposal. Jane and Bingley are finally engaged and married. Lydia’s general interest in soldiers is embodied in Wickham, and after Darcy’s persuasion, their elopement ends in marriage. Mr. Collins proposes to Charlotte Lucas and they marry. But it is this last relationship which is troubling. It is not based on love, like the marriages of Jane and Bingley, or Elizabeth and Darcy. Charlotte is practical, and her happiness is entirely rooted in financial security and the possibility of avoiding her husband as much as possible. Mr. Collins may be in love with Charlotte, but she is certainly not in love with him. Does a marriage of convenience produce the same happiness for Charlotte that a marriage of love produces for Elizabeth? Perhaps it may. The reader might even accept this, if it weren’t for one last question: could another marriage of love have been possible? After Mr. Collins has been rejected by Elizabeth, the narrator notes that if he

"thought of paying his addresses to one of [Mrs. Bennet’s] younger girls, [...] Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him. She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others; there was a solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though by no means so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to read and improve himself by such an example as her’s, he might become a very agreeable companion. But on the following morning, every hope of this kind was done away." (124)

Whose hope is this, Mrs. Bennet’s or Mary’s? Mary seems like the perfect wife for Mr. Collins, because they are so much alike. In Austen’s novels, husbands and wives are considered well-matched if they can teach and learn from one another, but are generally equal in breeding, intelligence, and talent. Mary and Mr. Collins are so base and comic, however, that any spouse that could significantly improve them would be far above their level. The best alternative, then, is in a marriage where they could find love regardless of the author’s judgments on their combined stupidity and vulgarity. Mary believes that they would be an ideal couple, based on the definition of being well-matched in Austen’s novel, because Mr. Collins could “improve himself by such an example as her’s.” Even if it weren’t true, they would believe themselves to be prosperous, happy, and in love. As the reader knows, Mary and Mr. Collins both find the greatest comfort in false appearances. They would be very pompous, but pleased in each other’s pomposity.

This marriage does not happen, and the narrator’s approach to it is very different than her approach to the other two possible relationships. At this point, the reader already knows that Mr. Collins is courting Charlotte. Mary’s interest in Mr. Collins is parallel to Mr. Collins’s interest in Elizabeth, with interest on one side but not on the other. Rather than continuing to inform the reader of Mary’s feelings after she hears of the engagement, the narrator completely removes her from the action:

"Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness; nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider it as improbable. Kitty and Lydia were far from envying Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news to spread at Meryton." (127)

Elizabeth’s reaction has already been seen when Charlotte tells her the news personally. The only sister whose reaction we do not see, then, is Mary’s. Why is this? It seems to be a conscious decision on the part of the narrator, to so obviously exclude her from all of the sisters’s impressions of the marriage. We have been so intimately involved in the feelings of the characters, that it is surprising to suddenly not have access to the feelings of one who might actually be hurt by the proceedings. Is it because Mary has no feelings to expose on the matter? If so, the non-inclusion of her reaction may indicate that her character is even more shallow and serious than the reader earlier believed. However, it may be a movement of repentance on the part of the narrator. All of the other relationships hinted at end with marriage. In Mary’s expectation of Mr. Collins’s courtship, the reader is given a similar kind of expectation about the outcome of a relationship, as he or she has been given for Elizabeth and Darcy or Elizabeth and Mr. Collins. This expectation is disappointed, and perhaps the narrator’s sudden withdrawal from the emotions of the character is to lessen the impact on the reader, and to give the character some privacy in her private mourning.

The omniscience of the narrator, then, is a way of creating and alleviating suspense in the romances of the novel. The greater intimacy of the narrator with the characters acts as a lens for viewing the events of the novel. When the reader is secure in the outcome of a situation, like Mr. Collins’s courtship of Elizabeth, he or she can focus on other aspects of that relationship. The reader may ask why he or she knows that Elizabeth will reject Mr. Collins, and what in his character makes that so decided. When the reader is not secure in the outcome, as when he or she is disappointed in Mary’s interest in Mr. Collins, it creates questions about the narrator herself. Why is she omniscient? What does this omniscience do? And, finally, how does that omniscience affect the characters and the reader’s own relationship with those characters?


WORKS CITED

Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982.