THE CONCEPT AND PRESENTATION OF LOVE 

IN JANE AUSTEN 

by 

JUDITH ANDERSON 

B.A., University of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1964 

A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF 

THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF 

MASTER OF ARTS 

i 
i n the Department 

of 
English 

We accept this thesis as conforming to the 

required standard 

THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA 

A p r i l , 1970 



In p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t o f t h e r e q u i r e m e n t s f o r 

an a d v a n c e d d e g r e e a t t h e U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , I a g r e e t h a t 

t h e L i b r a r y s h a l l make i t f r e e l y a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e and s t u d y . 

I f u r t h e r a g r e e t h a p e r m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e c o p y i n g o f t h i s t h e s i s 

f o r s c h o l a r l y p u r p o s e s may be g r a n t e d by t h e Head o f my D e p a r t m e n t o r 

by h i s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . I t i s u n d e r s t o o d t h a t c o p y i n g o r p u b l i c a t i o n 

o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r f i n a n c i a l g a i n s h a l l n o t be a l l o w e d w i t h o u t my 

w r i t t e n p e r m i s s i o n . 

D e p a r t m e n t o f i^c^^^L^ 

The U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a 
V a n c o u v e r 8, C a n a d a 



ABSTRACT 

THE CONCEPT AND PRESENTATION OF LOVE IN JANE AUSTEN 

C r i t i c s of Jane Austen can be divided into three groups. The 

f i r s t group, which includes W. H. Helm, Sheila Kaye-Smith and G. B. Stern 

regards Marianne Dashwood as Jane Austen's only passionate heroine. Her 

other heroines are condemned for their common sense by these c r i t i c s , 

who contend that love i s an i r r a t i o n a l phenomenon. Love and reason, 

they believe, are mutually exclusive. Jane Austen saw love as a marriage 

of these two facets of man's being. Aware of i t s duality, at once both 

emotional and r a t i o n a l , she saw the inadequacies (and dangers) of "love" 

which based i t s e l f solely on passion. Mr. Bennet i s one of Austen's 

examples of a man who has f a i l e d to assess his chosen mate i n t e l l i g e n t l y , 

and his subsequent l i f e with her demonstrates the deficiency of a concept 

of love which does not involve use of the mind as well as of the heart. 

For Jane Austen, "to f e e l " was not enough. Marianne Dashwood, her so-

called "passionate" heroine, i s not meant to be admired, but i s a 

s a t i r i c target, for Marianne despises any use of reason i n the process 

of f a l l i n g i n love. For Jane Austen, she represents the antithesis of 

genuine love. 

The second group, among them Charlotte BrontM, V i r g i n i a Woolf, 

and Marjory Bald, sees no passion at a l l i n Jane Austen's novels. They 

are considered to be "dry", "dusty", and s u p e r f i c i a l , and are said to 

ignore " [ v ] i c e , adventure, passion." I t i s undoubtedly the subtlety 



of t h e i r presentation which has misled the c r i t i c s . Jane Austen's 

sensitive a r t i s t r y precluded a lengthy exposition of f e e l i n g . She 

provides us with the material necessary to complete the picture by 

suggesting and leading up to the direct expression of emotion, rather 

than expressing the emotion i t s e l f . The presentation i s i n fact an 

extension of her concept, for the t r u l y passionate have not the capacity 

for f a c i l e a r t i c u l a t i o n . Intense emotions cannot be easily expressed. 

The interplay of surface tensions conveys the strong undercurrents of 

emotion. Jane Austen's evocative technique reveals their existence, 

but neither she nor her best characters w i l l wallow i n the sensational 

slough which i s thought by many to be the proper resting place for the 

passionate. 

The t h i r d group, whose f i r s t spokesman was S i r Walter Scott, and 

whose current advocate i s Marvin Mudrick, views the marriages of Jane 

Austen's heroes and heroines as f i n a n c i a l mergers, and not as unions of 

love. Her recognition of the economic pressures operating on her 

characters i s misinterpreted, and seen as endorsement. Jane Austen was, 

i n f a c t , extremely concerned with the fate of women i n her society. Her 

concern involved a reconsideration of that society's basic values. Jane 

Fairfax, Miss Bates, and the Watson s i s t e r s are some of her sympathetically-

treated symbols of the economic and s o c i a l v u l n e r a b i l i t y of women i n the 

late eighteenth and early nineteenth century. Jane Austen does not 

believe that personal happiness should be subjected to f i n a n c i a l 

considerations. She does show some of her characters succumbing to 

economic pressures. But they are censured within the novels, and her 

most admirable people never capitulate. 

I I 



Common to a l l of these groups i s a misinterpretation of, or 

f a i l u r e to understand, Jane Austen's concept and presentation of love. 

Using Jane Austen's novels and l e t t e r s , this paper w i l l attempt to 

correct the misinterpretations. 

Judith Anderson 
0403603 

I I I 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

page 

INTRODUCTION .... 1 

CHAPTER I "Whoever loved that loved not at f i r s t 
sight?" 4 

CHAPTER I I " I do not write for such d u l l elves 
As have not a great deal of ingenuity 

themselves." 30 

"I love not l e s s , though less the show 
appear. 

That love i s merchandised, whose r i c h 
esteeming 

The owner's tongue doth publish every-
where." 38 

" . . . romantic plays l i v e i n an atmos-
phere of ingenuity and make-believe" 47 

CHAPTER I I I Cupid Dethroned by Mammon? 54 

CONCLUSION 74 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 79 



INTRODUCTION 

The majority of Austen c r i t i c s can be divided into three 

groups. The f i r s t group, which includes W.H. Helm, Sheila Kaye-

Smith and G. B. Stern, sees Marianne Dashwood as Jane Austen's 

only passionate heroine. Jane Austen's other heroines, claims 

Somerset Maugham, have "no passion i n their love. Their 

i n c l i n a t i o n s are tempered with prudence and controlled by common 
1 

sense. Real love has no truck with these estimable q u a l i t i e s . " 
This group severely l i m i t s passion by i n s i s t i n g that no r a t i o n a l 

2 
process can contribute to intensity of emotion. They set off 

passion and reason against each other, refusing to recognize any 

possible combination of the two, and propound an a i l - t o o prevalent 

theory that love i s an e n t i r e l y i r r a t i o n a l phenomenon. Love and 

reason, such c r i t i c s believe, are mutually exclusive. 

The second group of c r i t i c s , among them Charlotte Bronte',. 

V i r g i n i a Woolf and Marjory Bald, sees no passion at a l l i n Jane 

1 
W. S. Maugham, Ten Novels and Their Authors, London, W. 

Heinemann Ltd., 1954, p. 59. 
2 
Sheila Kaye-Smith^ i n comparing Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y with 

Persuasion, sees the emotions of the l a t t e r as " d i f f e r e n t l y pitched 
[ i . e . much less intense]-—they are the emotions of maturity, of 
i n t e l l i g e n c e . . . . Comparing the two novels i s l i k e comparing the 
mists of autumn [Persuasion] with an A p r i l storm [Sense and  
S e n s i b i l i t y ] . . . ." (from Sheila Kaye-Smith and G. B. Stern, 
Talking of Jane Austen, London, Cassell & Co., 1943, p. 197) 



2 

Austen's novels. Miss Bronte, incensed by her publisher's suggestion 

that i f she wanted to write w e l l , she should take Jane Austen as her 

model, peevishly condemned Jane Austen's work. 

She r u f f l e s her reader by nothing vehement, disturbs him 
by nothing profound. The passions are perfectly unknown 
to her; she rejects even a speaking acquaintance with 
the stormy sisterhood. Even to the feelings she vouchsafes 
no more than an occasional graceful but distant r e c o g n i t i o n — 
too frequent converse with them would r u f f l e the smooth 
elegance of her progress. Her business i s not half so much 
with the human heart as with the human eyes, mouth, hands 
and feet. What sees keenly, speaks aptly, moves f l e x i b l y , 
i t suits her to study; but what throbs fast and f u l l , 
though hidden, what the blood rushes through, . . . — t h i s 
Miss Austen ignores.^ 

And V i r g i n i a Woolf, r e i t e r a t i n g Charlotte BronzeVs contention, 

wrote: 

Humbly and gaily she collected the twigs and straws out 
of which the nest was to be made and placed them neatly 
together. The twigs and straws were a l i t t l e dry and a 
l i t t l e dusty i n themselves . . . . Vice, adventure, 
passion were l e f t outside. . . . She had a l l sorts of 
devices for evading scenes of passion.^ 

The t h i r d group, fathered by S i r Walter Scott and currently 

spearheaded by Marvin Mudrick, with support from Richard Whateley 

and H.W. Garrod, sees the marriages of Jane Austen's heroes and 

heroines as f i n a n c i a l mergers, and not as unions of love. Mammon, 

and not Cupid, they believe, i s Jane Austen's favourite deity. Jane 

Austen recognizes economics as a governing force i n her society. 

But recognition does not mean endorsement. These c r i t i c s , f a r more 

snobbish than Jane Austen, chafe at a novel which depicts a marriage 

3 
Charlotte Bronte i n a l e t t e r to W. S. Williams, included 

i n Discussions of Jane Austen, Boston, D. C. Heath & Co., 1961, p. 18. 
4 
V i r g i n i a Woolf, The Common Reader, London, L. & V. Woolf, 

1929, p. 175 f f . 



3 

between a r i c h man and a comparatively poor woman. They find i t hard 

to believe that Darcy could be loved because he i s Darcy, and not 

because he has"ten thousand a year." They accept at face value 

Elizabeth's joking reply to the question as to when she had f i r s t 

begun to love Darcy. 

". . .1 believe I must date i t from my f i r s t seeing his 
b e a u t i f u l grounds at Pemberley." 5 

These c r i t i c s have overlooked Jane Austen's s a t i r i c presentation of 

those of her characters who seek to marry for pecuniary advantage, 

among them Tom Musgrove, Isabella and John Thorpe, and the Steele 

s i s t e r s . 

Common to a l l of these groups i s a misinterpretation of, 

or f a i l u r e to understand, Jane Austen's concept and presentation 

of love. Using Jane Austen's novels and l e t t e r s , this paper 

w i l l attempt to correct the misinterpretations. 

5 
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Boston, Houghton M i f f l i n 

Co., 1956, p. 279. Page references for Jane Austen's other n o v e l s — 
Northanger Abbey, Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , Emma, Mansfield Park, 
P e r s u a s i o n — w i l l be to the Early Editions by R. W. Chapman, In Five 
Volumes, Third E d i t i o n , Oxford at the Clarendon Press, 1933. 



CHAPTER I 

"WHO EVER LOVED THAT LOVED NOT AT FIRST SIGHT?" 
(Christopher Marlowe, Hero and Leander) 

In order to understand Jane Austen's concept of love, the reader 

must dispossess himself of any notion that f a l l i n g i n love cannot be 

a r a t i o n a l process. Love does not preclude reason. Jane Austen, a 

product of the eighteenth century and l i v i n g i n the nineteenth century, 

provided a bridge between these worlds. The eighteenth century 

established the supremacy of reason; the nineteenth century i n s i s t e d 

upon the power of passion i n i t s l i t e r a t u r e . To Jane Austen, no single 

force assumed ascendancy. Man i s not composed only of passion or reason. 

He i s an admixture of both parts. Jane Austen does not propound a 
1 

divorce between feelings and i n t e l l e c t . To her, love i s the product 
of the marriage of these two facets of man's being. Through use of 

his i n t e l l e c t , man can enjoy and i n t e n s i f y his feelings. His i n i t i a l 

feelings, the result of " f i r s t impressions," are replaced by emotions 

grounded i n a knowledge of the beloved. Passion alone Is an i n s u f f i c i e n t 

basis for love as Elizabeth r e a l i z e s : 

How Wickham and Lydia were to be supported i n tolerable 
independence, she could not imagine. But how l i t t l e of 
permanent happiness could belong to a couple who were 
only brought together because their passions were stronger 
than their v i r t u e , she could easily conjecture. 

(Pride and Prejudice, p. 232) 

1 
She writes of Edward Ferrars that when his proposal to Elinor 

i s accepted, and sanctioned by Mrs. Dashwood, he "was not only i n the 
rapturous profession of the lover, but i n the r e a l i t y of reason and truth, 
one of the happiest of men. (Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 361) 



5 

What of the most romantic union i n Jane Austen's novels? 

We find that the participants are "gradually acquainted, and when 

acquainted, rapidly and deeply i n love." (Persuasion, Chapter 4) 

Their love i s based on mutual knowledge. But knowledge does not 

automatically preclude passion. Love, by d e f i n i t i o n i s 

. . . that disposition or state of feeling with regard to 
a person which (arising from recognition of a t t r a c t i v e 
q u a l i t i e s ) manifests i t s e l f i n s o l i c i t u d e for the welfare 
of the object, and usually also i n delight i n his presence 
and desire for his approval.^ 

3 

Such a feeling demands some knowledge of i t s "object." This 

d e f i n i t i o n accords perfectly with Elinor Dashwood's love for Edward 

Ferrars, Knightley's for Emma Woodhouse, and Elizabeth Bennet's 

feeling for Darcy: 
She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no longer hope 
to be benefitted by i t . She wanted to hear of him, when there 
seemed the least chance of gaining i n t e l l i g e n c e , (p. 231f) 

New Oxford English Dictionary, Vol. VI, Oxford at the 
Clarendon Press, p. 463, 1933. 

3 
Laurence Lerner takes exception to this word i n the following 

passage. 
I f gratitude and esteem are good foundations of a f f e c t i o n , Elizabeth's 
change of sentiment w i l l be neither improbable nor f a u l t y . But i f . 
otherwise, i f the regard springing from such sources i s unreasonable 
or unnatural, i n comparison of what i s so often described as a r i s i n g 
on a f i r s t interview with i t s object. . . . (Pride and Prejudice, 
p. 207) 

He queries ". . . why did Jane Austen f e e l i t necessary to c a l l the 
beloved an object? I t ' s a mild joke to be sure—but why did she f e e l 
i t necessary to joke?" (from The Truthtellers: Jane Austen, George  
E l i o t , D. H. Lawrence, London, Chatto & Windus, 1967, p. 155.) 

To my knowledge, the New Oxford Dictionary has never been accused 
of jocosity. 



i 6 

There are many who believe that a young man, at a vulnerable 
4 

age, who becomes enamoured of a pretty face without knowing i t s 

possessor, i s " i n love." Love of this sort i s nothing more than 

infatuation. True love does not come so readily: i t i s found when 

heart and mind move i n tandem. When Jane Austen described the slow, 

almost imperceptible growth of Emma's love for Knightley, and of Darcy's 

for Elizabeth, she drew wisely. Jane Austen does not depict her 

i d e a l marriage as a consummation of friendship; she admits the 

necessity of personal a t t r a c t i o n , but recognizes that personal 

a t t r a c t i o n i s an additional factor, and not the sole essential. A l l 

too often, and we have the example of Mr. Bennet before us, personal 

appearance i s of major consequence, and the character behind i t i s 

idealized. The subsequent disillusionment i s always painful. 

Jane Austen shows the reader several unions based on nothing 

stronger than physical a t t r a c t i o n . These are the "imprudent" 

marriages, according to Jane Austen's use of the word. Mr. Bennet, 

we are t o l d , 
captivated by youth and beauty and that appearance of good 
humour which youth and beauty generally give, had married a 
woman whose weak understanding and i l l i b e r a l mind had very 
early i n their marriage put an end to a l l r e a l a f f e c t i o n for 
her. (Pride and Prejudice, p. 176) 

This i s a disappointment "which his own imprudence had brought on. . . . 

(p. 177) Mr. Palmer's temper i s recognized by Elinor as 

^"Three and twenty—a period when, i f a man chooses a wife, he 
generally chooses i l l . " (Jane Austen, i n a l e t t e r to Cassandra.) 



7 

a l i t t l e soured by finding, l i k e many others of his sex, 
that through some unaccountable bias i n favour of beauty, 
he was the husband of a very s i l l y woman. . . . 

(Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 112) 

Mr. Knightley disagrees with Emma i n her insistence that Harriet's 

"marketable"commodity—her b e a u t y — i s what men seek i n a wife. 

Emma asserts : 

. . . t i l l i t appears that men are much more philosophic on 
the subject of beauty than they are generally supposed, t i l l 
they do f a l l i n love with well-informed minds instead of 
handsome faces, a g i r l , with such loveliness as Harriet, has 
a certainty of being admired and sought a f t e r , of having the 
power of choosing from among many. . . . (p. 63) 

Jane Austen was decidedly not of the l o v e - a t - f i r s t - s i g h t 

school of sentimentalists. Deriving from no appreciation of the 

s p i r i t u a l or mental characteristics of the "beloved," i t i s based 

on physical a t t r a c t i o n and, as Jane Austen has shown, such a foun-

dation i s shaky indeed, for Willoughby i s " r e a l l y handsome," and 

Wickham has " a l l the best parts of beauty, a fine countenance." 

Marianne "disapprove[s]" of Edward Ferrars, contending "there i s a 

something wanting—his figure i s not s t r i k i n g ; i t has none of that 

grace which I should expect. . . . His eyes want a l l that s p i r i t , 

that f i r e , which at once announce v i r t u e ^ and i n t e l l i g e n c e . " 

(Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 17) Mistakes are possible, even probable, 

when man chooses a mate according to what his eyes reveal to him. 

I f there's one quality Edward has i n abundance, i t ' s v i r t u e . 
Am almost i n c l i n e d to agree with those c r i t i c s (among them Mudrick 
and Ten Harmsel) who find him unbearably good, especially i n his 
honourable insistence on continuing his engagement to Lucy Steele 
when his heart i s engaged elsewhere. 



8 

Mr. Bennet discovers this f a c t — u n l u c k i l y for him, too l a t e . His 

daughter Elizabeth i s more fortunate. An i n i t i a l d i s l i k e for Darcy 

i s supplanted by a love based on knowledge of his true character, 

which had been hidden behind a mask of shyness and pride. 

I f gratitude and esteem are good foundations of a f f e c t i o n , 
Elizabeth's change of sentiment w i l l be neither improbable 
nor faulty. But i f otherwise, i f the regard springing from 
such sources i s unreasonable or unnatural, i n comparison of 
what i s so often described as a r i s i n g on a f i r s t interview 
with i t s object, and even before two words have been exchanged, 
nothing can be said i n her defense, except that she had given 
somewhat of a t r i a l to the l a t t e r method, i n her p a r t i a l i t y 
for Wickham, and that i t s i l l - s u c c e s s might perhaps authorise 
her to seek the other less interesting mode of attachment. 

(Pride and Prejudice, p. 207) 

This i s not to say that Jane Austen denies the part physical 

attractiveness plays i n the growth of love. Granted, Jane's "sweet 

face" does much to capture Bingley's heart, but i t i s interesting 

to note that the romance i n Pride and Prejudice which i s of the 

greatest intensity i s marked by Darcy's being singularly unimpressed 

i n i t i a l l y with Elizabeth Bennet, finding her looks only "tolerable." (p. 7) 

I t i s only l a t e r , when he has come to know her, that he notices her 

" f i n e eyes." (p. 19) 

Lerner finds "a resistance to emotion underlying this 
paragraph." (from Laurence Lerner, The T r u t h t e l l e r s : Jane Austen, U 
George E l i o t , D. H. Lawrence, London, Chatto & Windus, 1967, p. 155)|[ 
I find an amusing thrust at those who believe i n love at f i r s t sight. 

a 



9 

To me, there i s proof of far greater love i n Darcy's 

feeling for Elizabeth, held despite an awareness of her " i n f e r i o r 

connections," than i s ever to be found i n a relationship such as 

that which exists between Marianne and Willoughby, who examine., 

each other for nothing more than a mutual "passionate fondness for 

music and dancing." (Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 46) In R. L i d d e l l ' s 

eyes, Marianne i s the only "character i n English prose f i c t i o n [who] 

may be said to be convincingly i n love. . . . Lerner i s more 

reasonable, and does not expand his perimeters to embrace a l l of 

"English prose f i c t i o n " , but confines himself to the conviction that 

Marianne i s the only heroine i n Jane Austen's novels who i s "convincingly 

i n love." He believes "Jane Austen can r i d i c u l e the excesses of 
g 

feeling because she i s not greatly attracted by the r e a l thing." 

Marianne's love for Willoughby i s the most h i s t r i o n i c a l l y 

emotional found anywhere i n Jane Austen's novels, but Marianne 

lacks the depth of character which true passion demands. She i s a 

g i r l whose heart can be broken merely upon hearing Cowper read "with 

so l i t t l e s e n s i b i l i t y . " (p. 18) This extreme emotional reaction was 

believed by the romanticists to demonstrate the depth of a hearer's 

s e n s i t i v i t y , but the same depths are plumbed by "landscapes, music, 

books, and dancing." (p. 46f) There i s no gradation of f e e l i n g . 

Each stimulus produces a stereotyped reaction. We are reminded of 

Robert L i d d e l l , The Novels of Jane Austen, London, Longmans, 
1963, p. 19. 

8 
Op. c i t . , p. 151. 



10 

Pavlov's dogs. They do not stop to reason, either. They have been 

conditioned to respond i n a prescribed way, and at the sound of the 

b e l l they are off and running, salivary glands functioning furiously. 

Marianne displays the same basic reaction to s t i m u l i . For drawing 

she feels "rapturous delight" (p. 19), for music "extatic [sic] 

delight," (p. 35) for her favourite authors a "rapturious delight." 

(p. 47) 

Jane Austen's best characters are seen as a commingling 

of both reason and passion. She treats some figures as largely 

governed by reason or passion, but such persons are always censured 

within the context of her novels. Miss Austen does not recommend 

the coldly r a t i o n a l approach to l i f e . She shares Anne E l l i o t ' s 

reaction to i t . 

She f e l t that she could so much more depend upon the 
s i n c e r i t y of those who sometimes looked or said a careless 
or a hasty thing, than of those whose presence of mind 
never varied, whose tongue never slipped. (Persuasion, p.161) 

And Mr. Bennet, an early v i c t i m of passion i n choosing a wife, i s 

condemned for his subsequent misuse of reason i n attempting to adjust 

to his i n i t i a l mistake. 

Jane Austen does f e e l , however, that the passionate characters 

offer more of a threat to society, since they recognize no l i m i t s 

to behaviour. Self i s advanced, and at the expense of others i f 

necessary. The harm done i s , i n almost every instance, unconsciously 

i n f l i c t e d . Thus the ambiguity of the "sensitive" people i s revealed. 



The " s e n s i t i v i t y " rarely extends beyond the perimeter of s e l f . 

Marianne's insistence on freedom of expression, which 

involves flaunting of s o c i a l courtesies, i s frequently a source 

of pain and embarrassment for E l i n o r . On one occasion, when Mrs. 

Jennings i s inquiring as to the i d e n t i t y of Elinor's "particular 

favourite," Marianne "[does] more harm than good to the cause, by 

turning very red, and saying i n an angry manner to Margaret, 

'Remember that whatever your conjectures may be, you have no 
right to repeat them.' 
'I never had any conjectures about i t , ' replies Margaret; ' i t 
was you who told me of i t yourself.'" 

(Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 61) 

And on another, when Mrs. Ferrars commends Miss Morton's landscape 

Marianne again indulges her emotions at her s i s t e r ' s expense. 

Marianne could not bear this.—She was already greatly 
displeased with Mrs. Ferrars; and . . . [said] with warmth, 

"This i s admiration of a very p a r t i c u l a r k i n d ! — 
what i s Miss Morton to us?—who knows, or who cares, 
for h e r ? — i t i s Elinor of whom we think and speak." . . 

Elinor was much more hurt by Marianne's warmth, than she had 
been by what produced i t ; but Colonel Brandon's eyes, as 
they were fixed on Marianne, declared that he noticed only 
what was amiable i n i t . . . . 

Laura refuses to v i s i t and succour her "beloved Augustus" 
i n prison because "[her] feelings are s u f f i c i e n t l y shocked by the 
r e c i t a l of his Distress, but to behold i t [would] overpower [her] 
S e n s i b i l i t y . " (from Love and Freindship and Other Early Works 
[Printed from the Original Ms. by Jane Austen], London, Chatto & 
Windus, 1922, p. 20) 



12 

But, we are t o l d , 

Marianne's feelings did not stop here. . . . She 
moved, after a moment, to her s i s t e r ' s chair, and . . . 
said 

"Dear, dear E l i n o r , don't mind them. Don't 
l e t them make you unhappy." 

She could say no more; her s p i r i t s were quite overcome, 
and hiding her face on Elinor's shoulder, she burst into 
tears, (pp. 235-6) 

This b r i e f incident also subtly reveals Marianne's unswerving f i r s t 

concern—that which she f e e l s - f o r h e r s e l f , — f o r her consolation 

of Elinor i s truncated when her mind returns to her own problems ( i . e . 

"you"—as w e l l as me). Only then i s she moved to tears. And, with 

the most d e l i g h t f u l l y i r o n i c master-stroke, we are shown Marianne and 

Willoughby, proponents of passion, l i v i n g by a code completely cold-

blooded, ensuring their comfort by exploiting the "reasonable" f o l k , 

who are blinded by the sparks which f l y from them. Jane Austen i s 

too honest not to concede their appeal, for her "passionate" 

characters (among them Mary Crawford, Marianne, Willoughby, Wickham) 

are shown to dazzle their less flamboyant peers. This honesty has 

been misinterpreted by some c r i t i c s . Mudrick's conclusion from 

Elinor's reaction to Willoughby after his confession, when we are 

told that 

She f e l t that his influence over her mind was heightened 
by circumstances which ought not i n reason to have weight; 
by that person of uncommon a t t r a c t i o n , that open, affectionate, 
and l i v e l y manner. . . . But she f e l t that i t was so long, 
long before she could f e e l his influence less. (p. 333) 

i s that we are witnessing " E l i n o r — a n d presumably the author—almost 

i n love, and quite amorally i n love, with him. . . . Through the 

flagrant inconsistency of her heroine Jane Austen i s herself revealed 



13 

i n a posture of yearning for the impossible and l o s t , the passionate 

and beautiful hero, the absolute lover.""^ One presumes he would 

impute the same "posture" to Elizabeth Bennet, since she states, 

while commenting on Wickham's appalling behaviour, 

". . .we a l l know that Wickham has every charm of 
person and address that can captivate a woman." 

(Pride and Prejudice, p. 210) 

W. H. Helm sees Elinor i n this scene as "a pioneer of 

that school of sociology which whitewashes the i n d i v i d u a l at the 
11 

expense of his early invironment and education." I doubt whether 

Jane Austen intended this interpretation; as when she describes 

Edmund's account of his f i n a l meeting with Mary Crawford, she meant.--

to suggest the magnetic a t t r a c t i o n of her " v i l l a i n s . " 
"I r e s i s t e d — i t was the impulse of the moment to r e s i s t — a n d 
s t i l l walked on. I have since, sometimes, for a moment, 
regretted that I did not go back; but I know I was r i g h t . " 

(Mansfield Park, p. 461) 
Edward "did not go back," but for Mary there w i l l be many other 

"Edwards." Her p o s s i b i l i t i e s for exploitation are almost l i m i t l e s s . 

To ensure personal comfort and continued self-indulgence, the 

passionate w i l l employ any means, from "gracefully purloining money 

from an unworthy father's e s c r i t o i r e " (p. 18) to marrying a man "who 

s t i l l sought the constitutional safeguard of a flannel waitcoat!" 

(Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 378) Elizabeth" Jenkins, notes the a l a c r i t y 

Marvin Mudrick, Jane Austen: Irony as Defense and. Discovery, 
Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1952, p. 85. 

W. H. Helm, Jane Austen and her Country-House Comedy, London, 
Fawside House, 1909, p. 147. 



14 

with which Marianne accepts Mrs. Jennings' i n v i t a t i o n to stay with 

her i n London. Marianne.' ; "thoroughly acquainted with Mrs. 

Jennings' manners, and thoroughly disgusted by them, [can] over-

look every inconvenience of that kind. . . . " (p. 155) 

" I f Elinor i s frightened away by her d i s l i k e of Mrs. 
Jennings," said Marianne, "at least lit need not 
prevent my accepting her i n v i t a t i o n . I have no such 
scruples, and I am sure, I could put up with every 
unpleasantness of that kind with very l i t t l e e f f o r t . " 

Elinor (and Jane Austen) 

[can] not help smiling at this display of 
indifference towards the manners of a person, to 
whom she had often had d i f f i c u l t y i n persuading 
Marianne to behave with tolerable politeness, 
(p. 156) 

Since she does "not think i t proper that . . . Mrs. Jennings 

should be abandoned to the mercy of Marianne for a l l the comfort 

of her domestic hours," (p. 157) Elinor agrees to accompany 

her s i s t e r . Marianne w i l l use Mrs. Jennings as a means of 

seeing Willoughby, but w i l l not accord her even " c i v i l i t y . " 

(p. 160) 

I t i s for this reason that s e n s i b i l i t y receives 



15 

the treatment i t does at the hands of Jane Austen. For s e n s i b i l i t y 

entails self-expression. The word to note here i s " s e l f . " I t 

involves the assertion of "I am" at the expense of "thou a r t . " 

"The world" i s only recognized when i t s forces react against the 

impenetrable, largely impervious " s e l f . " This attitude i s treated 

s a t i r i c a l l y i n Jane Austen's " J u v e n i l i a , " and s p e c i f i c a l l y i n Love and  

Freindship. The four passionate lovers l i v e i n an i d y l l i c state on 

funds "gracefully purloined from an unworthy [ i . e . insensitive] 

father's e s c r i t o i r e . " (p. 18) They have informed a l l neighbours 

that "as their Happiness center[s] wholly i n themselves, they 

[wish] for no other Society." (p. 17) In their search for s e l f -

g r a t i f i c a t i o n , the passionate cannot—or w i l l not—recognize 

s o c i a l forms, since these represent i n some instances a l i m i t a t i o n 

of the pleasure which can accrue to s e l f . 

In Jane Austen's novels we are made aware of the 

s o c i a l setting: the couple must correlate their s o c i a l r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s 

with their personal desires. They cannot dash off to London when 

they are attracted to each other, but must come to know one another 

through s o c i a l intercourse, and must proceed through prescribed 

channels. Failure to do so results i n chaos,—witness the Lydia-

Wickham, Henry Crawford-Julia Bertram episodes. Such a f f a i r s , based 

on f l e e t i n g emotions, are shown to be short-lived. The Lydia-Wickham 

union i s cemented by money, not by love between i t s members. 

Of Anne E l l i o t Miss Austen says, "she had been forced into 

prudence i n her youth, she learned romance as she grew older. . . . 

(Persuasion, p. 30) Love has more significance when i t i s seen 



16 

as an expanding process, a process which involves self-discovery i n 

i t s progression. A l l of Jane Austen's heroines are seen to reach 

self-awareness through an increasing awareness of others. They 

must question themselves i n order to ascertain t h e i r a b i l i t y to stand 

the scrutiny of the beloved. Her best characters are too honest not 

to admit where they f a l l short; this includes even the supremely 

assured Miss Emma Woodhouse. To Jane Austen, the ultimate command 

was "Know thyself," for only then could one hope to understand 

others. I t i s a code which admits no a r t i f i c e , no p a r t i a l truths, a 

r i g i d code. One might c a l l i t "a perpendicular, precise, . . . 
12 

unbending" code. 

According to Mr. Southam, i n the l a s t of the " J u v e n i l i a " 

(1792-3) Jane Austen was concerned " i n p a r t i c u l a r . . . with the 
13 

testing situations of love and marriage." His use of the word 

"testing" i s good, as i t conveys Jane Austen's conviction that love 

does involve an evaluation, both i n t e r n a l and external, of an 

individual's merits. Elizabeth Bennet speaks of love as "that 

pure and elevating passion." (Pride and Prejudice, p. 114) The 

adjective "elevating" i s s i g n i f i c a n t . When Jane Austen's heroines f a l l 

i n love, they are indeed "elevated"; i t i s then that they submit 

themselves to a thorough s e l f - s c r u t i n y , and determine to correct 

t h e i r f a u l t s i n order to be worthy of the men they love. 
Adjectives applied to Jane Austen by an anonymous friend 

of Miss Mitford, cited i n the l a t t e r ' s Recollections of a L i t e r a r y  
L i f e and quoted by Elizabeth Jenkins i n Jane Austen, New York, Farrar, 
Straus &. Cudahy, 1949, p. 366. 

B. C. Southam, Jane Austen's L i t e r a r y Manuscripts, London, 
Oxford University Press, 1964, p. 30. 



17 

Self-love was one form of love which Jane Austen despised. 

I t i s interesting to note that Marianne's attitude to love i s 

diametrically opposed to the b e l i e f i n the need for self-improvement 

of Jane Austen's heroines. When she thinks that Elinor w i l l soon 

marry Edward, she remarks that i n the interim prior to the nuptials 

" . . . Edward w i l l have greater opportunity of improving 
that natural taste for your favourite pursuit which must 
be so indispensably necessary for your future f e l i c i t y . 
Oh! i f he should be so far stimulated by your genius as 
to learn to draw himself, how d e l i g h t f u l i t would be!" 

(Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 22) 

That i s , Edward must a l t e r himself to s u i t E l i n o r . This i s of a 

piece with Marianne's insistence that 

"I could not be happy with a man whose taste did not i n 
every point coincide with my own. He must enter into a l l 
my feelings; the same books, the same music must charm us 
both." (p. 17) 

Marianne, looking out from the unassailable fortress of " s e l f j " 

w i l l judge others. I t never occurs to her that there should be 

a reciprocal arrangement. She does not question her own worthiness 

as an object of love, but instead examines the worthiness of others, 

which to her i s ascertained only by their s e n s i t i v i t y , or lack of i t . 

For Marianne, s e n s i t i v i t y — o r , i n the idiom of her time, 
s e n s i b i l i t y — i s a large quality. . . . She i s sure that 
she has i t ; and her mother, and E l i n o r (probably, though 
Marianne has occasional sharp doubts), and Willoughby. 
She w i l l s e t t l e for nothing l e s s , she regards anything 
less with impatience and contempt."^ 

Mudrick, p. 75. 



18 

Mudrick concurs with her judgment. Willoughby, he 

states, "represents feeling . . . Edward Ferrars and Colonel 

Brandon represent the antidote to f e e l i n g , the proposition that 

the only cure for a passionate heart i s to remove i t . " 1 " ' And 

what, we may ask, constitutes "a passionate heart"? Is the 

man who speaks most loudly of his love to be taken at his word 

as feeling most? Has Willoughby given any tangible proof of 

love for Marianne? His "dog i n the manger" reaction to the news 

of Marianne's forthcoming marriage w i l l hardly s u f f i c e as a cry 

for l o s t love: i t i s not the loss of Marianne he i s deploring, 

but the fact that "she w i l l be gained by someone else." (p. 332) 

Is a passionate heart one which speaks with "expression"? Is 

inarticulateness to be taken as proof of lack of feeling? 

Surely i t i s an indication of more intense f e e l i n g , so intense 

that i t has not the power of f a c i l e speech. As to the strength 

of Colonel Brandon's attachment for Marianne, that of a man who 

"has read, and has a thinking mind, . . . a sensible man," (p. 51) 

i t must be very great indeed, for reason would never lead him to 

choose such a partner, i n view of their respective "ages, characters, 

or feelings." (p. 336) He remains f a i t h f u l l y i n love with Marianne 

through two years, years i n which he sees her love for another man, 

a man whom he knows to be a gross knave, and i s himself looked upon 

15 
Loc. c i t . He further contends that Jane Austen believes 

"not merely f a l s e f e e l i n g , but feeling i t s e l f i s bad. . . . because 
i t i s a personal commitment" (p. 90-91) Are we to assume then that 
Jane Austen disapproved of Darcy for his very great "personal commit-
ment" to Elizabeth, which led him to involve himself i n her family's 
problems? 



19 

"occasionally" with a "pitying eye." (p. 216) He sees her j i l t e d 

and her' subsequent deterioration—and s t i l l he loves Marianne. Now 

l e t us turn to an examination of the "man of f e e l i n g " i n Sense 

and S e n s i b i l i t y . 

Confronted by Mrs. Smith with his despicable past behaviour 

and d i s i n h e r i t e d , the "passionate" Willoughby requires but a single 

night i n which to decide upon abandoning Marianne i n favour of a 

wealthy young woman of whom he l a t e r says, "I had no regard for her 

when we married." (p. 329) And why does he further torment 

Marianne by going himself to announce his sudden departure, as 

Elinor asks reproachfully, adding "a note would have answered 

every purpose.—Why was i t necessary to c a l l ? " Willoughby replies 

" I t was necessary to my own pride. I could not bear to leave the country 

i n a manner that might lead you, or the rest of the neighbourhood, 

to suspect any part of what had r e a l l y passed between Mrs. Smith 

and myself. . . . " (p. 324) Mudrick c a l l s Willoughby a "sensitive 
1 ft 

young person." Sensitive to what? Only to his own feelings, we 

r e a l i z e . 

And Marianne says, " I could not be happy with a man whose 

tastes did not i n every point coincide with my own. He must 

enter into a l l my feelings. . . . " (p. 17) for Marianne 
expected from other people the same opinions and feelings 
has her own, and she judged of t h e i r motives by the immediate 
effect of t h e i r actions on herself. (p. 202) 

Willoughby i s therefore the man for Marianne. From the f i r s t 

meeting 

Mudrick, p. 79. 



20 

. . . t h e i r taste was s t r i k i n g l y a l i k e . The same books, 
the same passages were i d o l i z e d by each—or i f any 
difference appeared, any objection arose, i t lasted no 
longer than t i l l the force of her arguments and the 
brightness of her eyes could be displayed. He acquiesced 
i n a l l her decisions, caught a l l her enthusiasm; and 
long before his v i s i t concluded, they conversed with the 
f a m i l i a r i t y of a long-established acquaintance. (p. 47) 

"With the f a m i l i a r i t y of a long-established acquaintance"—for the 

simple reason that Marianne has found an echo for her own theories, 

and an echo may be r e l i e d upon to say only what i t s originator says. 

Marianne does not know Willoughby any better; she has merely had 

herself reaffirmed. Willoughby serves as the medium for s e l f -

i d o l a t r y . Marianne i s able to worship at the a l t a r of her own 

s e n s i b i l i t y ; she has found a w i l l i n g novitiate. She cannot under-

stand Willoughby's subsequent defection. Nor can she conceive of any 

flaw i n her own godhead to account for his withdrawal, and asks 

herself, 

"Whom did I ever hear him t a l k of as young and a t t r a c t i v e 
among his female acquaintance?—Oh! no one, no one—he 
talked to me only of myself." (p. 190) 

Loss of such a l o y a l acolyte must be painful indeed for Marianne! 

There has been much c r i t i c a l comment on Marianne's "conversion" 

.and correction. Its climax i s said to come i n the scene involving 

Elinor's revelation to her s i s t e r of her months of unhappiness. 

Marianne i s amazed when Elinor openly reveals the anguish she has 

endured. So might the reader be, for should not a creature of such 

quivering s e n s i b i l i t y as Marianne have been able to discern Elinor's 

torment? We are even told that Elinor "once or twice [has] attempted" (p. 262) 



21 

to discuss i t , but such efforts went unnoticed. Marianne, incapable 

of either fathoming or recognizing her s i s t e r ' s intensity of emotion, 

chooses to disbelieve that Elinor "ever f e l t much." (p. 263) When 

Elinor i s able to disabuse her of this misconception, Marianne offers 

a "confession," replete, one notes, with her favourite personal 

pronoun. 
"Oh! E l i n o r , " she cried, "you have made me hate myself 
for ever.—How barbarous have 1 been to you!—you, who have 
been my_ only comfort, who have borne with me i n a l l my_ 
misery, who have seemed to be only suffering for me!— 
Is this my_ g r a t i t u d e ! — I s this the only return _I can 
make you?—Because your merit cries out upon myself, I 
have been trying to do i t away." (p. 264) ^ 

Ten Harmsel feels that Marianne has "come of age" i n this passage. 

The climax i n her changing attitude comes, however, 
when she has heard of her s i s t e r ' s great sorrow. . . . 

She "perform[s] her promise of being discreet" and we are told 

She listened to [Mrs. Jennings'] praise of Lucy with 
only moving from one chair to another, and when Mrs. 
Jennings talked of Edward's a f f e c t i o n , i t cost her only a 
spasm i n her throat.—Such advances towards heroism i n 
her s i s t e r made Elinor f e e l equal to any thing herself, (p. 265) 

The wryness of the l a s t statement interferes with the theory that 

Jane Austen intended to show the successful conversion of Marianne. 

She i s seen to mellow somewhat, and comes to f e e l "earnestly g r a t e f u l " 

(p. 341) to Mrs. Jennings, but Elinor observes that Marianne continues 

^My i t a l i c s . 
18 

Henrietta Ten Harmsel, Jane Austen: A Study i n F i c t i o n a l  
Conventions, The Hague, Mouton & Co., 1964, p. 46. 



22 

"introducing excess" (p. 343), a l b e i t into her resolutions for 

self-improvement. Jane Austen brings this characteristic to our 

attention at the end of the book i n observing 

. . . instead of remaining even for ever with her mother, 
and finding her only pleasures i n retirement and study, 
as afterwards i n her more calm and sober judgment she had 
determined on,—she found herself at nineteen submitting 
to new attachments, . . . a wife, the mistress of a family. 
. . . (p. 379) 

Marianne's resolve to be forever secluded and celibate, the result 

of her "more calm and sober judgement," reveals the same excessive 

nature she showed at the outset of the novel. In the midst of 

Marianne's " t r a n s i t i o n , " Jane Austen again reminds us, through 

Mrs. Dashwood, that Elinor has been "suffering almost as much,, 
19 

c e r t a i n l y with less self-provocation, and greater f o r t i t u d e . " 

(p. 356) The i t a l i c i z e d words are a reminder of Marianne's 

attempts to keep her emotions at a high pitch. 

When Marianne receives Willoughby's l e t t e r , Lerner concedes 
that 

here for once Elinor's g r i e f 
two: i t i s Marianne who uses 
i n the physical immediacy of 

But he undercuts this admission. 

seems the more genuine of the 
rhetoric, Elinor who i s presented 
her sorrow. 

. . . even this probably does her less good than i t should 
i n our eyes: for i t i s not her own g r i e f that i s i n question, 
but her sharing of Marianne's. . . .20 

My i t a l i c s . 

^0p. c i t . , p. 166. 



23 

I cannot fathom this l o g i c , for surely i f Elinor's "once-

removed" g r i e f i s more deeply f e l t than Marianne's, then i t i i s 

Marianne's capacity for intense emotion which i s " i n question." 

Indeed, her "rhetoric", i s reminiscent of Laura's speeches i n 

Love and Freindship. 

" . . . leave me, leave me, i f I distress you; leave me, 
hate me, forget me! but do not torture me so." 

(Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 185) 

Continuing to parse her sentences c o r r e c t l y , Marianne claims, "But 

I cannot t a l k . " (p. 186) Miraculously restored to the power of 

speech by the time Elinor has read her s i s t e r ' s three notes to 

Willoughby, Marianne goes on to give an admirably coherent account 

of her relationship with him. (pp. 188-9) 

There are some c r i t i c s (Mudrick, Ten Harmsel among them) 
21 

who assert that Jane Austen, despite herself, made Marianne a 

d e l i g h t f u l creature. Lerner contends that the character of Marianne 

Dashwood "threaten[s] to escape from [her] creator's r e i n . " ^ I 

suggest that Jane Austen's favourable descriptions of h e r — i . e . 

"Marianne's a b i l i t i e s were, i n many respects, quite equal to 

E l i n o r ' s . . . . She was generous, amiable, interesting. . . ." (p. 6 ) — 

were at attempt to avoid the overt s a t i r e of an e a r l i e r work, 

Lascelles' account of Jane Austen's painstaking revisions 
and reworkings of her novels surely disproves any chance of "accident" 
i n Austen's presentation of her characters. 

"Op. c i t . , p. 157. 



24 

Love and Freindship, which also zeroed i n on s e n s i b i l i t y as a 

target. We know that Elinor and Marianne, an e a r l i e r version of 

Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , was the f i r s t novel Jane Austen wrote 

after Love and Freindship. The difference i n s a t i r i c technique 

i n these novels shows the t r a n s i t i o n from blatant to latent irony. 

Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y concludes with the author's statement, 

Marianne Dashwood was born to an extraordinary fate. She was 
born to discover the falsehood of her own opinions, and to 
counteract, by her conduct, her most favourite maxims. She 
was born to overcome an a f f e c t i o n formed so l a t e i n l i f e as at 
seventeen, and with no sentiment superior to strong esteem 
and l i v e l y friendship, v o l u n t a r i l y to give her hand to 
another!—and that other, a man who had suffered no less than 
herself under the event of a former attachment, whom, two 
years before, she had considered too old to be married,— 
and who s t i l l sought the constitutional safeguard of a flannel 
waistcoat! (Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 378) 

Lerner objects: 

The tone of t h i s , surely, i s not quite r i g h t : the tone, 
or i t s content. "No sentiment superior to strong esteem 
and l i v e l y friendship": does Jane Austen then not believe 
i n love? . . . And that l a s t old-maidish joke about the 
flannel waistcoat: can we not hear too audibly the r e l i e f 
that marriage i s not going to contain anything excessive, 
anything v i o l e n t , anything common?^ 

He goes on: 

Yet on i t s own the paragraph i s not l i k e l y to j a r ; and i t 
would not j a r i f we turned straight to i t after reading 
the f i r s t eight chapters.25 

My i t a l i c s . The intensity of her l o v e — " a f f e c t i o n " — 
and her capacity for i t — h e r age—are challenged. 

^Op. c i t . , p. 161. This i s not Lerner's f i r s t description 
of Jane Austen as "old-maidish." He appears to be so steeped i n 
"D. H. Lawrencism" that he i s convinced that an unmarried woman must 
either be f r i g i d or a v e r i t a b l e cauldron of bubbling repressions. 

Loc. c i t . 



25 

I would attach the adverb "closely" to the end of the 

above quotation. Marianne, not Jane Austen, spoke of "flannel 

waistcoats" i n Chapter VIII. Colonel Brandon's capacity for 

potency (I assume this i s what i s implied by the Lawrencian 

adjectives "excessive", "violent") i s not at issue: Jane Austen 

i s reminding the reader of Marianne's assessment of Colonel 

Brandon as "old enough to be [her] father" (p. 37) and incapable 

of i n s p i r i n g love. She i n s i s t s 

" . . . t h i r t y - f i v e has nothing to do with matrimony." 

Elinor's reply i s noteworthy. 

"Perhaps t h i r t y - f i v e and seventeen had better not have 
any thing to do with matrimony together. But i f there 
should by any chance happen to be a woman who i s single 
at seven and twenty, I should not think Colonel Brandon's 
being t h i r t y - f i v e any objection to his marrying her." (pp. 37-8) 

Marianne's opinion of such a union i s contemptuous. The reader of 

Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y i s inclined to be more moderate i n response 

to the marriage which, as described by Marianne at the beginning of 

the book, i s her "fate" at the end of i t . 

". . . i f her home be uncomfortable, or her fortune small, 
I can suppose that she might bring herself to submit to 
the o f f i c e s of a nurse, for the sake of the provision and 
security of a wife. In his marrying such a woman therefore 
there would be nothing unsuitable. I t would be a compact 
of convenience, and the world would be s a t i s f i e d . In my 
eyes i t would be no marriage at a l l , but that would be 
nothing. To me i t would seem only a commercial exchange, 
i n which each wished to be benefitted at the expense of 
the other." (p. 38) 

The verb "submit" i s c r u c i a l , for i t connotes passivity. In turning 

to the account of Marianne's marriage we read: 



26 

Mrs. Dashwood was acting on motives of policy . . . for her wish 
of bringing Marianne and Colonel Brandon together was hardly 
less earnest, though rather more l i b e r a l than what John had 
expressed. . . . and to see Marianne settled at the mansion-
house was equally the wish of Edward and E l i n o r . They each 
f e l t his sorrows, and their own obligations, and Marianne, 
by general consent, was to be the reward of a l l . . . . 

Instead of f a l l i n g a s a c r i f i c e to an i r r e s i s t i b l e passion . . . 
she found herself at nineteen submitting to new attachments^ 
entering on new duties, placed i n a new home, . . . and the 
patroness of a village.(pp. 378-9)26 

Ten Harmsel agrees with Mudrick that "Marianne, the l i f e and 
2 7 

center of the novel, has been betrayed; and not by Willoughby." 

Ten Harmsel also notes, without understanding i t s significance, that 

Jane Austen "subjects none of her other heroines to such an ending— 
28 

each one f i n a l l y wins her f i r s t and only true love. . . . " 

The fact that Marianne recants her love for Willoughby, and embarks 

on a loveless (on her part) marriage, i s overlooked. The reader, 

i n assessing the character of Marianne, must ask himself—"Could 

Elizabeth Bennet, or Fanny P r i c e , or Anne E l l i o t (I omit Emma Woodhouse, 

since she has no economic pressures) have been prevailed upon to marry without love?" They could not. 

Mudrick has said of the central character i n Love and Freindship, 

The only difference between Laura before and Laura after 
conversion [supposedly from s e n s i b i l i t y ] . . . i s the quality 
of discretion. . . .29 

My i t a l i c s . 
r 

Mudrick, crp_. c i t . , p. 93. 

S?en Harmsel, ap_. c i t . , p. 47. 

W d r i c k , ap_. c i t . , p. 17. 



27 

In view of the conclusion of Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , I suggest that 

the same could be said of Marianne. 

The recognition of s o c i a l r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s by Jane Austen's 

heroes and heroines has often been misconstrued. Because their 

love i s not immediate, but i s a result of frequent s o c i a l intercourse, 

because t h e i r encounters are not t r y s t s , but take place i n drawing 

rooms with others present, i t i s assumed that there can be no 

i n t e n s i t y of emotion i n t h e i r feelings for each other. The 

" i s o l a t i o n policy" practiced by Marianne and Willoughby (and by 

the p r i n c i p a l couples i n Love and Freindship) i s assumed to be 

proof of this intensity. Elinor wishes "their attachment . . . 

were less openly shewn", but for Marianne, "to aim at the r e s t r a i n t 

of sentiments . . . appeared to her . . . an unnecessary e f f o r t . . . ." 

(p. 53) And so 

A'.-'-. when [Willoughby] was present she had no eyes for 
any one else. . . . If dancing formed the amusement of 
the night, they were partners for half the time; and when 
obliged to separate for a couple of dances, were careful to 
stand together and scarcely spoke a word to any one else, 
(pp. 53-4) 

ForJane Austen's opinion of this d i s i n c l i n a t i o n to observe the 

amenities as proof of passion we can turn to Pride and Prejudice, 

for Mrs. Bennet's assessment of the "violence" of Bingley's love for 

Jane. 

"He was growing quite inattentive to other people, and 
wholly engrossed by her. . . . At his own b a l l he 
offended two or three young ladies, by not asking them 
to dance, and I spoke to him twice myself, without 
receiving an answer. Could there be f i n e r symptoms? Is 
not general i n c i v i l i t y the very essence of love?" (p. 107) 



28 

Maugham appears to agree with her, for he comments i n Ten Novels and 

Their Authors 3 0 , 

I do not believe that Miss Austen was capable of being 
very much i n love. I f she had been, she would surely 
have attributed to her heroines a greater warmth of 
emotion than i n fact she did. There i s no passion i n 
t h e i r love. Their i n c l i n a t i o n s are tempered with prudence 
and controlled by common sense. Real love has no truck 
with these estimable q u a l i t i e s . 

I t would appear that Mr. Maugham w i l l not allow any cerebral 

considerations into the process of " f a l l i n g i n love." One may 
31 

not choose wisely and w e l l : one must simply choose. 

In Persuasion Jane Austen treats the c o n f l i c t between two 

sets of values—those of prudence and those of love—more intensively 

than i n any of her other novels. Anne's r e c o n c i l i a t i o n with 

Wentworth does not arise from a resolution of these opposites, 

but from a series of fortuitous occurrences which make t h e i r union 

possible after a l l . Not even at the end of the book does Anne 

abandon her commitment to the prudential values, f o r , as she and 

Jane Austen r e a l i z e , they cannot be ignored. Maugham feels that "one 

may wish that Anne were a l i t t l e less matter-of-fact, . . . a l i t t l e 
32 

more impulsive. . . . " Helm concurs, and faults Anne for having 
33 

"kept her feelings under the most perfect control. . . . " 30 
••— London, W. Heinemann Ltd., 1954, p. 59. 

31 
Maugham would have preferred "to see [Anne E l l i o t ] marry 

[Mr. E l l i o t ] rather than the stodgy Captain Wentworth." (Ibid., p. 67) 
32 

Ibid.j p. 63. 33 Helm, jDp_. c i t . , p. 163. 



29 

Marianne, who c e r t a i n l y can not be accused by Mr. Maugham 

as are Jane Austen's other heroines, of "prudence," i s f u l l y 

prepared to enter the marriage state having, as Elinor puts i t , 

" . . . already ascertained Mr. Willoughby's opinion i n 
almost every matter of importance. You know what he 
thinks of Cowper and Scott; you are certain of his 
estimating t h e i r beauties as he ought, and you have 
received every assurance of his admiring Pope no more 
than i s proper. . . . Another meeting w i l l s u f f i c e to 
explain his sentiments on picturesque beauty, and second-
marriages, and then you can have nothing further to ask." 

(Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 47) 

G. B. Stern endorses this i r o n i c a l remark i n stating that she "would 

rather have seen Marianne married to Willoughby (a r e j o i c i n g 
34 

widower) than mistress of Delaford and wife of Colonel Wet-Blanket." 

I submit that much of the unhappiness i n contemporary marriages 

arises from a refusal to view love âs Jane Austen viewed i t , a union 

of mind and heart. The necessity for mutual knowledge between marriage 

partners i s denied by Charlotte Lucas. 
"I wish Jane success with a l l my heart; and i f she were married 
to him tomorrow, I should think she had as good a chance of 
happiness, as i f she were to be studying his character for a 
twelvemonth. Happiness i n marriage i s e n t i r e l y a matter of 
chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well 
known to each other, or ever so similar before-hand, i t does 
not advance t h e i r f e l i c i t y i n the least. . . . I t i s better 
to know as l i t t l e as possible of the defects of the person with 
whom you are to pass your l i f e . " 

Elizabeth (and Jane Austen) reply: 

"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but i t i s not sound. You know 
i t i s not sound. . . . " (Pride and Prejudice, p. 16) 

•^Kaye-Smith and Stern, Talking of Jane Austen, p. 122, 



CHAPTER I I 

"I DO NOT WRITE FOR SUCH DULL ELVES 
AS HAVE NOT A GREAT DEAL OF INGENUITY THEMSELVES." 

(Jane Austen, from a l e t t e r to Cassandra) 

In discussing Jane Austen's attitude to love, i t becomes 

necessary to prove that there are accounts of love i n her novels. 

Several c r i t i c s can see no "passion" i n her books. Lionel Stevenson 

asserts: 

The absence of passion i s a . . . l i m i t a t i o n , since the 
dominant theme of a l l her novels i s love. She i s so 
suspicious of emotion that when a scene of strjng f e e l i n g 
i s imperative she t r i e s to avoid narrating i t . 

Jane Austen's finesse i n describing her heroines' love for 

the men of their choice perhaps accounts for many readers' f a i l u r e to 

recognize that love i s being described. In Emma, the heroine suddenly 

realizes "that Mr. Knightley must marry no one but herself!" (p. 408) 

The punctuation suggests Emma's intensity of emotion, as i t does again 

i n her miserable outburst, "Oh GodJ that I had never seen her" (p. 411), 

when she believes that she has l o s t Knightley to Harriet. 

Another subtle method of indicating emotion employed by Jane 

Austen i s the description of weather. When Emma fears that she can 

never have Knightley, Jane Austen comments, 

The evening of this day was very long, and melancholy, 
at H a r t f i e l d . The weather added what i t could of gloom. 
A cold stormy r a i n set i n , and nothing of July appeared 
but i n the trees and shrubs, which the wind was despoiling, 

1 
Lionel Stevenson, The English Novel: A Panorama, London, 

Constable & Co. Ltd., 1960, p. 189. 



31 

and the length of the day, which only made such cruel sights 
the longer v i s i b l e , (p. 421) 

I t i s u n l i k e l y that the r e a l i s t i c Miss Austen endorsed the "pathetic 

f a l l a c y , " as Reginald Farrer suggests. Her description of weather here 

has a function. And that function i s to mirror the heroine's state of 

mind. 

The subtle growth of Darcy's love for Elizabeth i s handled 

magnificently. The progress of his attachment i s revealed i n such 

passages as these: 

No sooner had he made i t clear to himself and his friends 
that she had hardly a good feature i n her face, than he 
began to find i t was rendered uncommonly i n t e l l i g e n t by 
the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. 

(Pride and Prejudice, p. 16) 

We note that even this early i n the book Darcy must work to "make i t 

clear to himself": already he i s f i g h t i n g an a t t r a c t i o n he feels toward 

Elizabeth. 

. . . Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he 
was by her. He r e a l l y believed, that were i t not for the 
i n f e r i o r i t y of her connections, he should be i n some 
danger, (p. 38) 

. . . they went down the other dance and parted i n silence; 
on each side d i s s a t i s f i e d , though not to an equal degree, 
for i n Darcy's breast there was a tolerable powerful 
f e e l i n g towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and 
directed a l l his anger against another, (p. 71) 

At times, Darcy i s even less conscious of his feelings for 

Elizabeth. When Elizabeth i s at Netherfield, Caroline Bingley, more 

aware of Darcy's interest than either Darcy or Elizabeth i s , and 

"desperate" (p. 41) to obtain the former's attention, asks Elizabeth 

to j o i n her and "take a turn about the room." 



32 

Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to i t immediately. 
Miss Bingley succeeded no less i n the r e a l object of her 
c i v i l i t y ; Mr. Darcy looked up . . . and unconsciously 
closed his book. (p. 41) 

In the ensuing conversation he speaks only to Elizabeth, and appears 

unaware of Miss Bingley's intrusions. I t i s only "after a few moments 

r e c o l l e c t i o n " that he "begins to f e e l the danger of paying Elizabeth too 

much attention." (p. 43) 

The signs of his growing love are clear. He and Elizabeth are 

unaware of them, but the omniscient reader can see them a l l . They are 

i m p l i c i t rather than e x p l i c i t ; unfortunately, the subtlety of t h e i r 

presentation has a l l too often been l o s t upon Austen c r i t i c s . 

The sensitive a r t i s t r y of Jane Austen forbade a lengthy 

exposition of f e e l i n g . Aware of the s u b j e c t i v i t y of f e e l i n g , she conveyed, 

rather than c r u c i f i e d , the emotions which moved her characters. Not 

for Jane Austen the merciless dissection of innermost thoughts. Analysis 

meant a n n i h i l a t i o n . For Jane Austen expected of her readers what 

Charlotte Bronte could never dare. She expected them to see beneath 

her words to the soul beneath. 

I do not write for such d u l l elves 2 
As have not a great deal of ingenuity themselves. 

(Chawton: Friday [January 29, 1813]) 

Jane Austen suggests and leads up to the direct expression 

of emotion rather than express the emotion i t s e l f . The climax, the 

moment i n which the lovers make a mutual profession of love, i s not 

protracted, but rather, concentrated into "one b r i e f flash of speech 

2 
William and Richard A. Austen-Leigh, Jane Austen-—Her L i f e  

and Letters, a Family Record. London, Smith Elder, 1913, p. 261. 



33 

or w r i t i n g . " The participants f e e l deeply, but proffer no extensive 

a r t i c u l a t i o n of emotion. Intensity of f e e l i n g , Jane Austen r e a l i z e s , 

precludes glibness. Frank Churchill i s a great talker: Mr. Knightley, 

when proposing, t e l l s Emma, 

"I cannot make speeches, Emma. I f I loved you l e s s , I 
might be able to t a l k about i t more." (Emma, p. 430) 

The absence of lengthy love scenes, condemned as a f a u l t i n Jane Austen's 

novels, i s j u s t i f i e d by Knightley's statement. As Jane Austen knew, 

the capacity for f a c i l e a r t i c u l a t i o n of love a l l too often betokened a 

lack of intensity of emotion. Willoughby, Isabella Thorpe, Tom Musgrove, 

Mr. C o l l i n s — a l l of these characters " t a l k up a storm." But as Jane 

Austen reveals, their speeches are a l l 

F u l l of sound and fury 
Signifying nothing. 

Willoughby t e l l s Elinor that i n London, "with [his] head and 

heart f u l l of [Marianne, he] was forced to play the happy lover to 

another woman!" (Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 327) In a l l seriousness, he 

seeks sympathy on the grounds of an overwhelming passion—a passion 

which i n the next breath he shows himself to have supplanted with 

his supreme passion, s e l f - l o v e . Willoughby parades one of the 

characteristics of the sentimental lover i n a further attempt to mitigate 

his scurrilous r e j e c t i o n of Marianne. 

"Her three n o t e s — u n l u c k i l y they were a l l i n my pocketbook or I 
should have denied their existence and hoarded them f o r e v e r . — 
I was forced to put them up, and could not even kiss them. And 
the lock of h a i r — t h a t too I had always carried about me i n the 
same pocketbook, . . . the dear l o c k — a l l , every memento was torn 
from me." (Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 329) 

The s e l f - p i t y i n g tone i n which Willoughby recounts the loss of the 

F. W. Bradbrook, Jane Austen: Emma, London, Edward Arnold, 
1961, p.15. 



34 

mementos whose possession i s supposed to establish the depth of the 

love he feels for Marianne grates p a i n f u l l y on the reader's ear. So 

this i s l o v e — a two-faced Janus, with one hand loath to part with r e l i c s 

while the other pens a note which w i l l cut to the heart the source of 

these same r e l i c s . 

Willoughby has won over several c r i t i c s with his confession 

to E l i n o r . Here he i s believed to be expressing r e a l torment and love 

for Marianne. For purposes of emphasis, the words referring to himself 

are underlined. I t w i l l be clear that Willoughby's thoughts, even i n 

retrospect, center on Willoughby. 

'"What a sweet figure I_ cut!—what an evening of agony i t was! 
—Marianne, beautiful as an angel on one side, c a l l i n g me  
Willoughby i n such a tone!—Oh! God! holding out her hand 
to me, asking me for an explanation with those bewitching 
eyes fixed i n such speaking s o l i c i t u d e on my face!—and 
Sophia, jealous as the d e v i l on the other hand, looking a l l 
that was—. . . Such an evening!—1_ ran away from you a l l 
as soon as I could; but not before I_ had seen Marianne's 
"sweet face as white as death."(p. 327) 

The recognition of Marianne's "sweet face as white as death," we note, 

does not summon an exclamation mark. Only Willoughby's account of the 

evening's unpleasantness for him i s crowned with superlative punctuation. 

Most readers appreciate a physical description of the main 

character placed near the beginning of a novel. We l i k e to "see" 

the figure before us. But to s i m i l a r l y l i m i t by description the 

boundaries of a character's emotions i s to l i m i t his scope. The 

suspense which sustains the plot i n Persuasion acts as a medium 

through which we share the emotional experiences of Anne E l l i o t . 

We have been given an account of the attachment between Anne and 



35 

Captain Wentworth. 

They were gradually acquainted, and when acquainted, rapidly 
and deeply i n love. I t would be d i f f i c u l t to say which had 
seen highest perfection i n the other, or which had been 
the happiest,—she, i n receiving his declarations and 
proposals, or he i n having them accepted. 

A short period of exquisite f e l i c i t y followed, and but 
a short one. (p. 26) 

In these b r i e f words we can f e e l a l l the poignancy and tenderness of 

their mutual love. We know the pain which the termination of their 

"short period of exquisite f e l i c i t y " brought to both. We already are 

aware that Anne s t i l l loves Wentworth, for upon hearing a casual a l l u s i o n 

to him, Anne 

l e f t the room, to seek the comfort of cool a i r for her 
flushed cheeks; and as she walked along a favourite 
grove, said, with a gentle sigh, "A few months more, 
and he_, perhaps, may be walking here." (p. 25) 

"A favourite g r o v e " — i t i s easy to imagine that i t might w e l l have been 

the scene of former happy rendezvous between the young lovers. Now a l l 

that remains to be known i s the state of Captain Wentworth's present 

feelings. But we, and Anne, must wait u n t i l the end of the book for 

conclusive proof of his love. We l i v e with her, and share the agonies 

of enduring his "cold politeness, his ceremonious grace." (p. 72) When 

she i s i n the same room with him, Anne suffers "agitation, pain, pleasure, 

a something between delight and misery." (p. 175) When we are told that 

"she f e l t a hundred things i n a moment," we do not require an itemized 

account of each one to understand the wealth of emotion welling up i n 

her heart. Anne i s deeply, completely i n love. Holding no prejudice 

against "second attachments," her love i s nevertheless "his for ever." 

(p. 192) 

Anne's impassioned conversation with Captain H a r v i l l e ( i n 



36 

Chapter 33), conducted r a t i o n a l l y and i n a low voice, i s deeply emotional. 

There are none of the hyper-exclamatory phrases of a Marianne Dashwood, 

but no one could deny the intensity behind the words 

" A l l the p r i v i l e g e I claim for my own sex . . . i s that 
of loving longest, when existence or when hope i s gone." 

(p. 235) 

For those who require a resume of what "the human heart i n i t s heaving 

breast" i s doing i n order to understand what Anne E l l i o t i s f e e l i n g , 

Miss Austen gives us the statement 

She could not immediately have uttered another sentence; 
her heart was too f u l l , her breath too much oppressed, 
(p. 235) 

Here i s the "stormy Sisterhood" surely. And when Anne, upon termination 

of the conversation, sees Wentworth leave the room "without a word or a 

look" and then return almost immediately to place i n her hands a l e t t e r , 

and f i x upon her "eyes of glowing entreaty," we do not need to be told 

more than that 

the revolution which one instant had made i n Anne, was 
almost beyond expression, (p. 237) (my i t a l i c s ) 

I t does not require expression. We f e e l i t , as Anne feels i t . To 

subject such sensitive gradations of emotion to analysis would be to 

destroy their essence. We have been given the materials necessary to 

complete the pattern of feeling. 

When Anne and Wentworth meet i n the street i n Bath and are 

suddenly aware that their love i s s t i l l mutual, they keep their 

"smiles reined i n and s p i r i t s dancing i n private rapture." (p. 240) 

They do not catapult into each other's arms and shriek i n ecstasy, 

but their f a i l u r e to do so does not diminish the passion which they 

f e e l . When Elinor learns that Edward Ferrars i s , after a l l , free to 



37 

marry her, we are told that she "almost ran out of the room, and as 

soon as the door was closed, burst into tears of joy." (p. 360) Ian 

Watt makes the appropriate comment. 

The joy was not less intense because Elinor remembered that 
ladies do not. run, and that they always shut the door. But 
Elinor's sense involves much more than prudent reticence 
and a regard for the forms of s o c i a l decorum; these may be 
i t s surface expression, but i t s essence i s f i d e l i t y to^the 
inward discriminations of both the head and the heart. 

And the "exquisite happiness" shared by Anne and Wentworth i s greater, 

not l e s s , for being "more fixed i n a knowledge of each other's 

character, truth, and attachment. . . ." (p. 241) 

With Jane Austen, each reader can f e e l for himself (and thus 

f e e l with more awareness) the nature of emotion, not emotion sedulously 

delineated by the obtrusive, omniscient author, but emotion conveyed, 

suggested, frequently by a single word. Examples of this evocative 

technique are legion. In Persuasion, Anne E l l i o t i s confronted for 

the f i r s t time by the man she had been persuaded to give up eight years 

previously. She does not pour forth a passionate soliloquy after rushing 

distractedly from the room. And yet we see her suffering, we understand 

the fulness which wells up inside her, the sense of almost dizzy 

awareness of everything around her, i n the statement "The room seemed 

f u l l — f u l l of persons and voices." (p. 59) Short—and deceptively simple. 

But we can imagine, p a r t i c u l a r l y after Miss Lascelles' book, the thought 

which went into the composition of this p a r t i c u l a r sentence. For with 

nine words, Jane Austen has placed Anne before us, and made us f e e l the 

4 
Ian Watt, "On Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , " Jane Austen: A Collection  

of C r i t i c a l Essays, ed. Ian Watt, Englewood C l i f f s , Prentice-Hall, Inc. 
1963, p. 49. 



38 

commingling of emotions, emotions which must be concealed from the rest 

of the room " f u l l of persons and voices." And, somehow, we f e e l more 

poignantly the strength of these emotions by dint of their concealment. 

For Anne, l i k e E l i n o r Dashwood and Jane Fairfax, must suffer i n silence. 

Not for her the simple expedient of release by expression. Feelings 
5 

which "[throb] fast and f u l l , though hidden" must be suppressed, i n 

order that others might not suffer. The natural confidante for Anne 

would seem to be Lady Russell. But she cannot be confided i n , for she 

was inadvertantly the source of Anne's unhappiness, and would be deeply 

pained by a r e a l i z a t i o n of what she had done. So the floodgates of Anne's 

heart must remain locked. But the force of the torrents they stem i s 

not assuaged by containment. 
" I LOVE NOT LESS, THOUGH LESS THE SHOW APPEAR. 
THAT LOVE IS MERCHANDISED, WHOSE RICH ESTEEMING 
THE OWNER'S TONGUE DOTH PUBLISH EVERYWHERE." 

(from Sonnet 102, William Shakespeare) 

I t i s the fate of the romantic heroine to suffer and 
endure; i t i s Emma's destiny to lose her complacency 
and suffer s l i g h t l y , as she learns the truth about 
herself and others. 

Mr. Bradbrook appears to be accepting the popular, misconception that 

only the heroine who endures "the sleepless couch, . . . a pillow 

strewed with thorns and wet with tears" i s "the true heroine." 

(Northanger Abbey, p. 90) But i f we examine Emma's, or Elizabeth's, 

or Anne's, or E l i n o r ' s , anguish, i t i s seen that their suffering i s 

very r e a l , although not vociferously manifested i n the "romantic" form 

Bradbrook accepts as sole proof of true suffering. 

5 
Charlotte Bronte asserted that Jane Austen ignored the feelings 

which "[tthrob] fast and f u l l , though hidden." 
6 
Bradbrook, op. c i t . , p. 8. 



39 

One wonders i f Bradbrook would r e a l i z e how deeply i n love 

Admiral and Mrs. Croft are, since they are not a "romantic" couple. 

Their i n t e n s i t y of devotion to each other, one surmises, has e n t i r e l y 

escaped him, since they do not profess undying love for each other 

verbally, and there i s not a single scene i n which we see Mrs. Croft 

sobbing her heart out. Her love i s evinced i n a very different way. 

In explaining to Mrs. Musgrove why she spent so much time on her 

husband's man-of-war, and i n negating the suggestion that she must have 

been uncomfortable and unhappy i n such a l i e n surroundings, Mrs. Croft 

says: 

" . . . the happiest part of my l i f e has been spent on 
board a ship. While we were together, you know, there  
was nothing to be feared."(Persuasion, p. 70)^ 

Admiral and Mrs. Croft remind one of Thackeray's couple i n 

Vanity F a i r , Major and Mrs. O'Dowd. The Crofts do not a r t i c u l a t e their 

love: they l i v e i t , as do Major and Mrs. O'Dowd. Thackeray makes the 

relevant comment on Mrs. O'Dowd's preparation of her husband's equipment 

just prior to his marching off to b a t t l e . 

And who i s there w i l l deny that this worthy lady's 
preparations betokened a f f e c t i o n as much as the f i t s 
of tears and hysterics by which more sensitive 
females exhibited their love, and that their partaking 
of this coffee, which they drank together while the 
bugles were sounding the turnout . . . was not more 
useful and to the purpose than the outpouring of any 
mere sentiment could be? ̂  

This i s love which i s directed e n t i r e l y to i t s object, and i s not taken 

up with proud vaunting of i t s e l f . The word "exhibited" i n the above 

7 
My i t a l i c s . 
8 
W.M. Thackeray, Vanity F a i r , New York, Holt, Rinehart'. & Winston, 

1955, pp. 299-300. 



40 

quotation i s noteworthy. Captain Wentworth does not verbalize his 

growing f e e l i n g for Anne, but we can see i n his thoughtful removal of 

young Charles from her back a motive beyond mere courtesy. He does not 

speak of his love; even at the end of the book he finds i t d i f f i c u l t 

to do so. He, l i k e Darcy, acts i t out. For love of Elizabeth, Darcy 

performs the unsavoury task of searching for Lydia and Wickham i n 

London, and "persuading" them to marry. 

He had followed them purposely to town, he had taken on 
himself a l l the trouble and m o r t i f i c a t i o n attendant on 
such a research; i n which supplication had been necessary 
to a woman whom he must abominate and despise, and where 
he was reduced to meet, frequently meet, reason with, 
persuade, and f i n a l l y bribe, the man whom he always most 
wished to avoid, and whose very name i t was punishment 
for him to pronounce. 

(Pride and Prejudice, p. 243) 

Such lovers do not display the "romantic" manifestations of emotion, 

unlike "lovers" such as Marianne Dashwood, who, on the night following 

Willoughby's departure from Barton (to which he was expected to return 

almost immediately), 

. . . would have thought herself very inexcusable had she 
been able to sleep at a l l t h e - f i r s t night a f t ^ r parting 
with Willoughby. She would have been ashamed to look 
her family i n the face the next morning, had she not 
risen from her bed i n more need of repose than when she 
lay down i n i t . (Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 83) 

And so Marianne 

. . . got up with a headache, . . . giving pain every moment 
to her mother and s i s t e r s ^ and forbidding a l l attempt at 
consolation from either. 

When breakfast was over she . . . wandered about the 
v i l l a g e of Allenham, indulging the r e c o l l e c t i o n of past 
enjoyment. . . . 

9 
My i t a l i c s . 

10 
Jane Austen remarks, "Her s e n s i b i l i t y was potent enough!" 



41 

The evening passed off i n the equal indulgence of f e e l i n g . 
She played over every favourite song that she had been used 
to play to Willoughby, . . . t i l l her heart was so heavy 
that no farther [ s i c ] sadness could be gained: and this 
nourishment of grief was every day applied. . . . In books 
too,.. . . she courted the misery which a contrast between 
the past and present was certain of giving. (Sense and  
S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 83) 

For Marianne believes i n the importance of v i s i b l e manifestations of 

emotion. No one, she fears, w i l l believe she i s i n love unless he/she 

can see the emotion anatomized. Such preoccupation with proving 

emotion suggests a corresponding lessening i n intensity of the emotion 

i t s e l f . 

A.Walton L i t z paraphrases Mudrick's statement that i n Sense 

and S e n s i b i l i t y Jane Austen "turned from her youthful attacks on 
11 

false s e n s i b i l i t y to an attack on a l l f e e l i n g . " What Mudrick and L i t z 

miss i s that Jane Austen admires f e e l i n g , and only despises f e e l i n g 

which admires i t s e l f . She does not condemn emotion per se, but 
decries self-congratulatory emotion,.:'. . •> ;' . 

B.C. Southam writes: 

In "Love and Freindship" the motives for sentimental 
conduct are examined, and i t i s debunked as nothing 
more than an expedient code permittj^g self-indulgence, 
and a form of e g o t i s t i c a l snobbery. 

He recognizes that sentimental behaviour i s "a form of e g o t i s t i c a l 

snobbery," yet f a i l s to see Marianne Dashwood's self-indulgence as 
13 

anything but "genuine temperamental s e n s i b i l i t y . " Such a f a i l u r e 

11 
A. Walton L i t z , Jane Austen: A Study of her A r t i s t i c Development, 

New York, Oxford University Press, 1965, p. 82. 
.12 

B. C. Southam, Jane Austen's Literary Manuscripts, London, Oxford 
University Press, 1964, p. 26. 

13 
Loc.cit. 



42 

indicates a very scanty perusal of Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , i n which we 

we frequently encounter Marianne uttering smugly self-admiring lines 

such as: 

"Happy, happy E l i n o r , you cannot have an idea of what I suffer." 
(p. 185) 

"Elinor has not my feelings, and therefore she may overlook 
i t . . . . But i t would have broke my heart had I loved him, 
to hear him read with so l i t t l e s e n s i b i l i t y . . . I require 
so much!" (p. 18) 

"Dear., dear Norland! . . .Oh! happy house, could you know what 
I suffer i n now viewing you from this spot, from whence perhaps 
I may view you no more!—And you, ye well-known trees!—but you 
w i l l continue the same . . . insensible of any change i n those 
who walk under your shade!—But who w i l l remain to enjoy you?" 
(p. 27 ) U 

His pleasure i n music, though i t amounted not to that extatic 
[ s i c ] delight which alone could sympathize with her own, was 
estimable when contrasted against the horrible i n s e n s i t i v i t y 
of the others; and she was reasonable enough to allow that a 
man of f i v e and t h i r t y might well have outlived a l l acuteness 
of f e e l i n g . . . . (p. 35)l-> 

Jane Austen describes Marianne and her mother flogging their 

feelings to keep them at fever pitch when they find they must leave 

Norland. 

They encouraged each other now i n the violence of their 
a f f l i c t i o n . The agony of grief which overpowered them 
at f i r s t was v o l u n t a r i l y renewed, was sought f o r , was 
created again and again. They gave themselves up wholly 
to their sorrow, seeking increase of wretchedness i n 
every r e f l e c t i o n that could afford i t , and resolved 
against ever admitting consolation i n future, (p. 7) 

14 
Now that sensitive " I " am gone! 

15 
I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g to note that Jane Austen makes Anne E l l i o t 

27 years o l d — e x a c t l y the age at which Marianne Dashwood i s certain 
no woman " . . . can [ever] hope to f e e l or inspire affection again. . 
. ." (p. 38) 



43 

C l e a r l y , the enforced maintenance of f e e l i n g at a high p i t c h outran 

the genuine emotion. The mania f o r s e n s i b i l i t y was c r i t i c i z e d by 

Hannah More i n her S t r i c t u r e s on the Modern System of Female Education 

w i t h a view of the p r i n c i p l e s and conduct among women of rank and fortune. 

In one chapter she wrote: 

Of t h i s extreme i r r i t a b i l i t y . . . the uneducated l e a r n to 
boast, as i f i t were a decided i n d i c a t i o n of s u p e r i o r i t y of 
s o u l , i n s t e a d of l a b o u r i n g to r e s t r a i n i t . . . i t i s too 
much to nourish the e v i l by u n r e s t r a i n e d i n d u l g e n c e ^ i t i s 
s t i l l worse to be proud, of so m i s l e a d i n g a q u a l i t y . 

I t i s impossible to overlook the connection between Marianne's 

and Sophia's ailments, both brought on by t h e i r overindulgence of 

s e n s i b i l i t y . At Cleveland, Marianne walks 

. . . where the trees were the o l d e s t , and the grass was 
the longest and w e t t e s t , 

and then commits 

the s t i l l greater imprudence of s i t t i n g i n her wet shoes 
and s t o c k i n g s , (p. 306) 

much l i k e Sophia, whose c o l d i s contracted due to her 

continued f a i n t i n g s i n • t h e open a i r as the Dew was 
f a l l i n g . (Love and F r e i n d s h i p , p. 33) 

The r a p i d l y l a n g u i s h i n g Sophia advises: 

" . . . take warning from my unhappy End and avoid the 
imprudent conduct which had [ s i c ] occasioned i t . . . . 
Beware of f a i n t i n g f i t s . . . . Though at the time they 
may be r e f r e s h i n g and agreeable yet b e l i e v e me they w i l l 
i n the end, i f too o f t e n repeated and at improper seasons 
prove d e s t r u c t i v e to your C o n s t i t u t i o n . . . . My f a t e 
w i l l teach you t h i s . . . . I d i e a Martyr to my g r i e f 
f o r the l o s s of Augustus. . . . One f a t a l swoon has cost 
me my l i f e . . . ."(p. 34) 

16 
C i t e d i n E l i z a b e t h J e n k i n s , Jane Austen, New York, F a r r a r , 

Straus & Cudahy, 1949, p. 69. 



44 

As i s apparent from the core of this speech, Sophia's " f i t " was not 

actually occasioned by the "loss of Augustus," but was revelled i n for 

i t s own sake; as was that of Laura, who, i n recounting her past l i f e , 

describes a f i t i n which she was, as she puts i t , "raving i n a f r a n t i c , 

incoherent manner," and yet miraculously i s able to recount everything 

she uttered while "wildly exclaiming on [her] Edward's Death." Laura 

adds proudly, 

For two Hours did I rave thus madly and should not then 
have l e f t o f f , as I was not i n the least fatigued, had 
not Sophia . . . intreated [ s i c ] me to consider that 
Night was now approaching and that the Damps began to 
f a l l . (p. 32) 

S i m i l a r l y , Marianne w i l f u l l y indulges her g r i e f , glorying i n i t . Her 

i l l n e s s , l i k e Sophia's, i s not the result of lost love, but of s e l f -
17 

g r a t i f i c a t i o n . 

In Love and Freindship Laura confesses to 

"a s e n s i b i l i t y too tremblingly a l i v e to every a f f l i c t i o n 
of Friends, acquaintance and p a r t i c u l a r l y to every 
a f f l i c t i o n of my own, . . . my only f a u l t , i f a f a u l t 
i t could be c a l l e d . " (p. 6) 

But Marianne would not question, even h y p o c r i t i c a l l y , the categorization 

of such s e n s i b i l i t y as "a f a u l t . " To her, i t i s the cardinal v i r t u e . 

Each new misfortune which arises offers fresh p o s s i b i l i t i e s for the display 

of feelings. I t i s a point of pride to suffer excessively—and i n public! 

As Marianne understands i t , "those who suffer l i t t l e may be proud and 

independent as they like—may r e s i s t i n s u l t , . . . " but, she says, "I 

cannot. I must f e e l — I must be wretched—and they are welcome to enjoy 

the consciousness of i t that can." (Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 190) 

17 
Marianne does come to admit, 

"My i l l n e s s , I w e l l knew, had been e n t i r e l y 
brought on by myself." (Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 345) 



45 

Indeed, those who care for her, although they do not enjoy 
i t , are forced to an awareness of her wretchedness at every instant. 

Marianne i s "unable to t a l k , and unwilling to take any nourishment; 

giving pain every moment to her mother and s i s t e r s , and forbidding a l l 

attempt at consolation from either." (p. 83) We are reminded strongly 

of Sophia and her insistence upon being miserable. A l l events and topics 

of discussion are twisted that they might be brought within the scope 

of s e l f - m o r t i f i c a t i o n . Cries Sophia, 

"Oh! do not I beseech you ever l e t me again hear you 
repeat his [Aigustus'j beloved name—It affects me too 
d e e p l y — I cannot bear to hear him mentioned i t wounds 
my feelings."'.' 

Laura attempts to comply with this request. 

" . . . changing the conversation, I desired her to admire 
the noble Grandeur of the Elms which sheltered us. . . .11 
"'Alas! my Laura (returned she) avoid so melancholy a 
subject, I intreat you. Do not again wound my S e n s i b i l i t y 
by observation on those elms. They remind me of Augustus. 
He was l i k e them, t a l l , m a j e s t i c — ' "I was s i l e n t , f e a r f u l 
l e s t I might any more unwillingly distress her by f i x i n g 
on any other subject of conversation which might again 
remind her of Augustus. "'Why do you not speak my Laura? 
(said she after a short pause) I cannot support this 
silence you must not leave me to my own r e f l e c t i o n s ; they 
ever recur to Augustus.' 
"What could I do? . . . 1 had not power to s t a r t any 
other topic, j u s t l y fearing that i t might . . . awaken 
a l l her s e n s i b i l i t y . . . . yet to be s i l e n t would be 
cruel; she had intreated me to t a l k . " 

(Love and Freindship, p. 29f) 

S i m i l a r l y , for Marianne, 

. . . the s l i g h t e s t mention of any thing r e l a t i v e to 
Willoughby overpowered her i n an instant; and though 
her family were most anxiously attentive to her 
comfort, it.was impossible for them, i f they spoke at 
a l l , to keep clear of every subject which her feelings 
connected with him. . . . She played over every favourite 
song that she had been used to play to Willoughby, 
. . . t i l l her heart was so heavy that no further sadness 
could be gained; and this nourishment of grief was every 
day applied. . . . In books too, as w e l l as i n music, she 
courted the misery which a contrast between the past and 
present was certain of giving. 

(Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , pp. 82-3) 



46 

But are we to suppose that "such violence of a f f l i c t i o n , " whose 

flagging strength must be bolstered by " s o l i t a r y walks and s i l e n t 

meditations" i s of a greater intensity than that of the less flamboyantly 

suffering Miss Dashwood? E linor i s pained more deeply through her very 

reticence, which springs from the wish to spare her dearest friends 

the r e a l i z a t i o n that she i s "very unhappy." Her silence i s not the 

r e s u l t of not having "ever f e l t much,"—the source to which Marianne 

attributes i t — b u t ' i s "the effect of constant and painful exertion." 

(p. 264) We can imagine the d i f f i c u l t y with which Elinor controlled 

her emotions. Her s i t u a t i o n results i n far more pain for Elinor than 

Marianne, shielded on a l l sides by commiserating friends, i s ever forced 

to bear. Elinor describes i t : 

"I have known myself to be divided from Edward forever, 
without having one circumstance that could make me less 
desire the connection.—Nothing has proved him unworthy. 
. . . I have had to contend against the unkindness of his 
s i s t e r , and the insolence of his mother; and have suffered 
the punishment of an attachment, without enjoying i t s 
advantages.—And a l l this has been going on at a time, 
when as you too well know, i t has not been my only 
unhappiness." (p. 264) 

There has been much c r i t i c a l comment on Jane Austen's account 

of Mrs. Musgrove's attitude of maternal bereavement upon hearing of the 

death of her son, who became "poor Richard" once he died, but who had 

never been anything but "a thick-headed, unfeeling, unprofitable Dick 

Musgrove" (Persuasion, p. 51) when he was a l i v e . Her grief upon being 

reminded of his demise was greater "than what she had known on f i r s t 

hearing of his death." (p. 51) Jane Austen describes "the self-command 

with which [Captain Wentworth] listened to her large fat sighings over 

the destiny of a son, whom a l i v e nobody had cared f o r . " (p. 68) What 

reaction i s Captain Wentworth suppressing? Jane Austen has vested him 



47 

with her own abhorrence for the affectation of an emotion which one 

did not genuinely f e e l . She despised hypocrisy and deceit, and although 

Mrs. Musgrove i s not being charged with either, she i s being arraigned 

for indulging i n sentimentality disguised as a sacred f e e l i n g which 

she has never had for her son. She i s , i n f a c t , enjoying feeling 

"luxuriously low." Mrs. Musgrove i s t r u l y upset over Louisa's accident, 

and Jane Austen gives her credit for being so, but she w i l l not allow 
a character to assert feelings of love which he/she does not r e a l l y f e e l 

without providing omniscient comment. To Jane Austen, i t i s a s i n , a 

p r o s t i t u t i o n of the b e a u t i f u l , and should be condemned. Mrs. Musgrove i s 

supposed to f e e l g r i e f - s t r i c k e n over the death of her son—and so she 

pretends to. Marianne Dashwood believes she i s supposed to spend a 

sleepless night after Willoughby's i n i t i a l departure from Barton—and so 

she does. Jane Austen's attitude to mawkish sentimentality i s made 

clear i n the scene i n which Harriet brings the mementoes of Mr. Elton 

to Emma to dispose of them. Emma i s surprised and amused. 

"My dearest Harriet!" cried Emma, putting her hands 
before her f a c e , ^ a n d jumping up. . . . "And so you 
actually put this piece of court-plaister by for her sake, 
. . ." and secretly she added to herself, "Lord bless me! 
when should I ever have thought of putting by i n cotton 
a piece of court-plaister that Frank Churchill had been 
p u l l i n g about! I never was equal to t h i s . " (Emma, pp. 338-9) 

Emma's "inequality to t h i s " i s what makes her a heroine, and Harriet 

an object of amusement. 

" . . . ROMANTIC PLAYS LIVE IN AN ATMOSPHERE OF 
INGENUITY AND MAKE-BELIEVE." 
(Gilbert Murray, from the Preface to 

Iphigenia i n Tauris.) 

18 
Undoubtedly to hide a smile. 



48 

Fanny Burney's preface to Evelina could equally w e l l have 
19 

stood at the beginning of Jane Austen's novels. She exhorts: 

Let me . . . prepare for disappointment those who, i n the 
perusal of these sheets, entertain the gentle expectation 
of being transported to the f a n t a s t i c regions of Romance, 
where F i c t i o n i s coloured by a l l the gay t i n t s of luxurious 
Imagination, where Reason i s an outcast, and where the 
sublimity of the Marvellous rejects a l l aid from sober 
P r o b a b i l i t y . 2 0 

Jane Austen's " J u v e n i l i a " was written to expose the f a l s i t y i n the 

popular sentimental novels of the late eighteenth century, among them 

Richardson's Pamela, Laurence Sterne's A Sentimental Journey, and 

Charlotte Smith's Emmeline. Even at fourteen Jane Austen displayed 

the exquisite subtlety which was to mark her l a t e r i r o n i c presentation 

of pretense and a r t i f i c e . There i s no direct denunciation of the 

sentimental novel or i t s component parts, which include "sentiment, 
21 

morality, manners, i n s t r u c t i o n , s e n s i b i l i t y , and adventure." Instead, 

Miss Austen works with these conventions, creates her own "sentimental" 

novel. As Richard Simpson puts i t , Jane Austen 
began by being an i r o n i c a l c r i t i c ; she manifested her 
judgment of them [Romances] not by direct censure, but 

19 
Perhaps i f i t had much of the irrelevant c a v i l l i n g of some 

Austen c r i t i c s might have been truncated. 
20 
Fanny Burney, Preface to Evelina, New York, W. W. Norton & 

Co. Ltd., 1965 (no page number given i n book). 
21 

Marvin Mudrick, Jane Austen: Irony as Defense and Discovery, 
Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1952, p. 5. 



49 

by the i n d i r e c t method of imitating and exaggerating the 
faults of her models, thus clearing the fountain by 
f i r s t s t i r r i n g up the mud.22 

23 
Perhaps we can trace the popular misuse of the word "romance" 

back to the Gothic romances of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth 

centuries. These novels of extravagant emotions, with their gloomy 

castles, exquisitely beautiful heroines and sublimely s p i r i t e d heroes, are 

not woven from the fabric of everyday l i f e : they present the unusual 

and, supposedly, exalted aspects of l i f e . But the characters of such 

novels, i n t h e i r "other-worldliness," become bloodless figures. The 

Emily of The Mysteries of Udolpho i s the same Emily at the end of the 

book that she was at the beginning. She i s , we are t o l d , a g i r l of 

"uncommon delicacy of mind, warm affections, ready benevolence, and a 
24 

degree of s u s c e p t i b i l i t y too exquisite to admit of l a s t i n g peace." 

This degree of s u s c e p t i b i l i t y i s held by Emily magna cum laude. She 
f a i n t s with elegance, screams with decorum, "indulges i n melancholy 

reverie" (p. 381), adores sunsets. We may count upon any one or more 

of these reactions no matter what the s i t u a t i o n Emily i s forced into. 

There i s no variety i n such a character, and no interest. Emily i s 

s t i l l f a i n t i n g at the end of the book. Her degree of s u s c e p t i b i l i t y i s 

unimpaired. She i s unchanged, a lump of clay which has passed through 

22 
Richard Simpson viewed Jane Austen primarily as a c r i t i c of her 

society whose works were an expression of her i r o n i c sense. His comment 
cited i n Ian Watt's Introduction to Jane Austen: A Collection of C r i t i c a l  
Essays, ed. Ian Watt, New Jersey, Prentice-Hall Inc., 1963, pp. 5-6. 

23 
Whereby "romantic" = i d y l l i c . 

2 ^ 
Ann R a d c l i f f e , The Mysteries of Udolpho, New York, Juniper 

Press (n.d.), p. 10. 



50 

a blast furnace and come out unfired. 

The emotions i n the Gothic novels never stem from within, but are 

j o l t e d into a c t i v i t y by some external force, either human or supernatural. 

Emily i s immediately convinced that she must abandon her s u i t o r , Valancourt, 

when informed of his supposed a c t i v i t i e s i n Paris. She does not know 

Valancourt and therefore does not question the interpretation of his 

character, one which has to that moment appeared to her as above suspicion. 

There had been an immediate bond between them when they met, but the bond 

i s snapped with only a breath, a word. Perhaps the story of Emily and 

Valancourt i s a "romance," but i t i s not a romance of any depth. 

Jane Austen's attitude to love i s not romantic, but r e a l i s t i c . 

We are told that Henry Tilney's love for Catherine grew out of "gratitude," 

that 

a persuasion of her p a r t i a l i t y for him had been the only 
cause of giving her a serious thought. 

Jane Austen comments 

I t i s a new circumstance i n romance, I acknowledge, and 
dreadfully derogatory of an heroine's dignity; but i f 
i t be as new i n common l i f e , the credit of a wild 
imagination w i l l at least be a l l my own, 

(Northanger Abbey, p. 243) 

The circumstance i s not, however, new i n common l i f e . Charlotte Lucas 

i s cognizant of i t s frequent occurrence. 

There i s so much of gratitude or vanity i n almost every 
attachment, that i t i s not safe to leave any to i t s e l f . 
We can a l l begin f r e e l y ; a s l i g h t preference i s natural 
enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough 
to be r e a l l y i n love without encouragement. 

(Pride and Prejudice, p. 15) 

25 
Marcel Proust makes a s i m i l a r statement i n Swann's Way, trans. 

C.K. Scott Moncrieff, New York, Modern Library, 1928, p. 281. 
In his younger days a man dreams of possessing the heart 

of the woman whom he loves; l a t e r , the f e e l i n g that he 
possesses the heart of a woman may be enough to make him f a l l 
i n love with her. 



51 

Nor did Jane Austen accept the w i l d l y romantic theory that one 

could only f a l l i n love once, that for each person there was only one 

soulmate, for she suggests i n regard to Anne E l l i o t that a second attach-

ment, after her break with Wentworth, would have been a "thoroughly 

natural, happy and s u f f i c i e n t cure." (Persuasion, p. 28) This cure was 

not effected only due to circumstances, to the fact that the limited society 

i n which Anne moved did not contain anybody whom she could love. Jane 

Austen agreed with Elizabeth Watson's pragmatic attitude. 

I have l o s t Purvis, i t i s true but very few people 
marry their f i r s t love. I should not refuse a 
man because he was not Purvis. 2 6 

She had patience with, but saw l i t t l e point i n , hopelessly 

unrequited love. Anne E l l i o t ' s cautionary advice to Benwick, encouraging 

"patience and resignation" (Persuasion, p. 101), i s , we may be sure, 

Jane's own. As Jane remarked at one point i n her correspondence with her 

niece Fanny, whom she was encouraging to end a romance i n which Fanny 

had l i t t l e emotional involvement, when Fanny feared hurting the suitor: 

I t i s no creed of mind, as you must be well aware, 
that such sorts of disappointment k i l l anybody. ̂ ' 

(Chawton: Friday [November 18, 1814]) 

Because of Jane Austen's refusal to recommend a hopeless love, 

or to i n s i s t that every man can only love once, i t has been said of her 
28 

that she did not seem to believe much i n intensity of f e e l i n g . This 

26 
Jane Austen, "The Watsons," Shorter Works, London, The Folio 

Society, 1963, p. 91. 
27 

Austen-Leigh, L i f e and Letters, p. 345. 
28 

Marjory Bald, Women-Writers of the Eighteenth Century, 
Cambridge at the University Press, 1923, p. 16. 



52 

c r i t i c i s m i s l e v e l l e d because "most of her people could change t h e i r 

affections without any severe s t r a i n . " We are not told who these 

f i c k l e people are; i n f a c t , Dr. Bald can offer only a single example, 

Edmund Bertram, who,she objects, "did not pay heavily for his 
29 

d i s i l l u s i o n s " about Miss Crawford. The c r i t i c f a i l s to see that i t i s 

the very attitude which she holds that i s being mocked by Jane Austen, 

who writes: 
I purposely abstain from dates on this occasion, that 
everyone may be at l i b e r t y to f i x t h e i r own, aware that 
the cure of unconquerable passions, the transfer of 
unchanging attachments, must vary as to time i n different 
people. I only entreat everybody to believe that exactly 
at the time when i t was quite natural that i t should be so, 
and not a week e a r l i e r , Edmund did cease to care about 
Miss Crawford, and became as anxious to marry Fanny as 
Fanny herself could desire. 

(Mansfield Park, p. 470) 

Jane Austen does not appear, complains Dr. Bald, "to have recognized 
30 

the existence of incurable g r i e f . " Such a statement seems to i n s i s t 

that although a man discovers that the woman he loves i s not as she 

appeared to b e — t h a t i s , does not r e a l l y have the q u a l i t i e s he admired— 

he should love what she i s revealed to be, no matter how unpleasant 

that a c t u a l i t y i s . 

29 
Loc. c i t . 

30 
Loc. c i t . 



53 

But Jane Austen was too much of a r e a l i s t to recommend such 
31 

stupidity. Edmund's i n i t i a l infatuation with Miss Crawford was not 

based on a firm knowledge of her character. As he comes to admit, 

".. . . I had never understood her before . . . i t had been 
the creature of my own imagination, not Miss Crawford, that 
I had been too apt to dwell on for many months past." 

When he learned of her true nature, he realized that his affections 

were misplaced. To have continued to worship Mary Crawford would have 

been idiocy, not love. 

31 
So was Mary Wollstonecraft. As she stated i n her Thoughts  

on the Education of Daughters, (1787) cited i n H.R.Steeves' Before  
Jane Austen: The Shaping of the English Novel i n the Eighteenth Century, 
New'York, Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1965, p. 380 

I t i s too universal a maxim with novelists that love Is 
f e l t but once; though i t appears to me that the heart which 
i s capable of receiving an impression at a l l , and can 
d i s t i n g u i s h , w i l l turn to a new object when the f i r s t i s 
found unworthy. . . . When any sudden stroke of fate 
deprives us of those we love, we may not readily get the 
better of the blow, but when we find that we have been led 
astray by our passions, and that i t was our own imaginations 
which gave the high coloring to the picture, we may be 
certain time w i l l drive i t out of our minds. 



CHAPTER I I I 

CUPID DETHRONED BY MAMMON? 

In discussing Jane Austen's concept of love, i t i s necessary 

to clear away the glaring misconception that the marriages between 

her main characters are f i n a n c i a l mergers and not unions of love. 

Far too many c r i t i c s , from S i r Walter Scott to Marvin Mudrick, have 

seen her novels as marking the "dethronement of the once powerful 

God of Love." Jane Austen, they complain, i s g u i l t y of "exclusively 

patronizing what are called prudent matches," prudence being defined 
2 

as "regard for pecuniary advantage." 

There i s a conversation i n Love and Freindship between Edward 

and his s i s t e r Augusta i n which the l a t t e r mentions that "Victuals 

and Drink" are necessary "supports" for lovers. This assertion i s 

hotly denied by Edward, who asks, 
"And did you then never f e e l the pleasing Pangs of Love, 

Augusta? Does i t appear impossible to your v i l e and corrupted 
Palate, to exist on Love? Can you not conceive the Luxury of 
l i v i n g i n every distress that Poverty can i n f l i c t , with the 
object of your tenderest affection?" 

Augusta's (and Jane Austen's) reply i s succinct: 

"You are too ridiculous to argue with. . . . " (p. 13) 

Richard Whately, "Modern Novels," Quarterly Review, XXIV 
(1821), pp. 352-76. Cited i n Discussions of Jane Austen, ed. William 
Heath, Boston, D.'C. Heath & Co., 1961, p. 15. 

Loc. ext. 



55 

A s i m i l a r conversation takes place between Elinor and 

Marianne. Marianne inquires, 

"What have wealth or grandeur to do with happiness?" 
"Grandeur has but l i t t l e , " said E l i n o r , "but wealth 
has much to do with i t . " 
" E l i n o r , for shame!" said Marianne, "money can only 
give happiness where there i s nothing else to give i t . 
Beyond a competence, i t can afford no r e a l s a t i s f a c t i o n , 
as far as mere s e l f i s concerned." 
"Perhaps," said E l i n o r , smiling, "we may come to the 
same point. Your competence and my_ wealth are very much 
a l i k e , I dare say; . . . Come, what i s your competence?" 
"About eighteen hundred or two thousand a year; not more 
than that." 
Elinor laughed. "Two thousand a year! One i s my wealth! 
I guessed how i t would end." (Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 91) 

And the book ends, we r e c a l l , with Marianne a l l i e d to a man who 

has "upwards of 2000 pounds a year," a "very moderate income" says 

Marianne, who i s sure she i s "not extravagant i n [her] demands. A 

proper establishment of servants, a carriage, perhaps two, and 

hunters, cannot be supported on l e s s . " (p. 91) 

From this conversation i t becomes clear that Marianne, l i k e 

Willoughby and Augustus and Laura and Sophia and Edward and Henrietta 

Halton and Tom Musgrove, who are ostensibly out of touch with r e a l i t y 

due to their " s e n s i b i l i t y , " i s far more of a m a t e r i a l i s t than her 

r e a l i s t i c s i s t e r E l i n o r . Elinor marries on rather less than her 

i d e a l wealth; i t i s she and not Marianne who makes the "romantic" 

marriage, i f the s t i p u l a t i o n for romance i s , as S i r Walter Scott, 

Richard Whately;,and so many others i n s i s t , that the man one marries be 

poor as a churchmouse. 

Jane Austen's favour'i-te c°uples accept the material conditions 

which t h e i r society imposes upon marriage, but r e a l i z e , as so many 



56 

Jane Austen c r i t i c s do not, that these conditions do not l i m i t or 
invalidate the emotion which marriage formalizes. Unlike such 
hypocrites as those treated i n "A Collection of Letters," they 
admit the close connection between love and economics i n bourgeois 

society, but they never confuse one for the other. 

Henrietta Halton and Thomas Musgrove profess an emotional 

set of values while acting under an economic set. Anne and Wentworth 

neither ignore nor rebel against the economic base of their society. 

They recognize the ultimate " s o c i a l f a c t " — 

The economic compulsion to which they must reconcile their 
feeling i n order to secure the advantages of n u t r i t i o n and 
s o c i a l acceptance.^ 

Mudrick states, 

Their problem—and they are both wholly aware of i t — i s to 
determine just how far the claim of feeling can y i e l d , without 
effacing i t s e l f altogether, to the claim of economics. . . . 

In "The Three S i s t e r s , " part of Jane Austen's J u v e n i l i a , the 

theme i s marriage for f i n a n c i a l security, involving the c o n f l i c t 

between expediency and idealism. The eldest daughter, Mary Stanhope, 

i s fatherless and has no dowry. For her, marriage i s a negotiation, 

a bargaining for settlements. She determines to make a "prudential" 

marriage. In a conversation between two s i s t e r s , i n which one remarks 

that the potential husband cannot make Mary happy, the other astutely 

points out, 

"He cannot i t i s true but his fortune, his name, his house, 
his carriage w i l l and I have no doubt but that Mary w i l l 
marry him. . . . " (Shorter Works, p. 296) 

Marvin Mudrick, Jane Austen: Irony as Defense and Discovery,Princeton, 
Princeton University Press, 1952, p. 231. 

Loc. c i t . 



57 

Jane Austen recognizes Mary Stanhope's position. As she 

remarked to her niece, Fanny Knight, "single women have a dreadful 

propensity for being poor, which i s one very strong argument i n 

ling 
„6 

favour of matrimony. But she also warned the g i r l that "Anything 

i s to be preferred or endured rather than marrying without affection. 

In "Catharine", Mrs. P e r c i v a l , chaperone to a young charge, i s 

plagued by a "jealous Caution," the "constant apprehension" 

that her ward might marry "imprudently." Jane Austen mocks the 

woman, and, by extension, we may assert that she mocks Mrs. Percival's 

mercenary attitude to marriage. From Jane Austen's l e t t e r s and from 

her novels we learn her strong reaction to marriage without love. 

Her aunt Philadelphia had been forced into a s i t u a t i o n very l i k e 

that described i n the account of C e c i l i a Wynne's marriage. 
The eldest daughter had been obliged to accept the offer of 
one of her cousins to equip her for the East Indies, and 
though i n f i n i t e l y against her i n c l i n a t i o n s had been necessitated 
to embrace the only p o s s i b i l i t y that was offered to her, of a 
maintenance; yet i t was one, so opposite to a l l her ideas of 
Propriety, so contrary to her wishes, so repugnant to her 
feelings, that she would almost have preferred Servitude to i t , 
had choice been allowed h e r — . Her personal attractions had 
gained her a husband as soon as she had arrived at Bengal, and 
she had now been married nearly a twelve-month. Splendidly, yet 
unhappily married. United to a man of double her own age, whose 
disposition was not amiable, and whose manners were unpleasing, 
though his character was respectable. K i t t y had heard twice from 
her friend since her marriage, . . . and though she did not openly 
avow her feelings, yet every l i n e proved her to be unhappy. 
(Shorter Works, p. 179) 

^Austen-Leigh, L i f e and Letters, p. 351. 
6 I b i d . , p. 344. 



58 

Elizabeth Jenkins notes the p r a c t i c a l i t y of most single women 

of the period. 

The people whom Jane Austen approved of: women l i k e Emma 
Watson and Elizabeth Bennet, did not regard e l i g i b l e 
marriage as the f i r s t object of existence, though a very 
desirable one; but quite pleasant, respectable g i r l s of a 
less disinterested and exacting nature were prepared to 
command their affections to a very considerable extent. 
The overbearing desire for romance, or sexual s a t i s f a c t i o n , 
or marriage, . . . irrespective of a genuine a t t r a c t i o n , i s 
shown constantly i n her less important female characters: 
i n the Steele s i s t e r s , i n Isabella Thorpe and Charlotte 
Lucas, . . . and Louisa Musgrove and Penelope and Margaret 
Watson. . . . 

The overbearing preoccupation of the women cited (and we might add 

Jane Fairfax to the l i s t ) was not with "romance, or sexual s a t i s f a c t i o n , " 

i t was with marriage. As Elizabeth Jenkins goes on to admit, 

[at that time] . . . women of the upper middle class who were 
single and unprovided for had no refuge open to them but a 
post as governess orgCompanion, or l i n g e r i n g out an existence 
i n genteel d i s t r e s s . 

Fanny Burney's understanding of the pressures exerted on her peers was 

voiced through Dr. Marchmont i n Camilla, 

" . . . the influence of friends, the prevalence of example, 
the early notion which every female Imbibes, that a good 
establishment must be her f i r s t object i n l i f e these are g 
motives of marriage commonly s u f f i c i e n t for the whole sex." 

One would perhaps expect Jane Austen to be more charitable 

i n her treatment of the women cited i n Elizabeth Jenkins' passage. 

She sympathizes with their position, but seems to side with Emma 

Watson i n the exchange with her s i s t e r Elizabeth. 

7 
Elizabeth Jenkins, Jane Austen, New York, Farrar, Straus & 

Cudahy, 1949, p. 159. 
8 
Loc. c i t . 
9 
Fanny Burney, Camilla, Vol. I, London, printed for T. Payne, 

at the Mews-Gate; and T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies i n the Strand, 1796, p.388. 



59 

" To be so bent on marriage—to pursue a man merely for the sake 
of s i t u a t i o n — i s a sort of thing that shocks me. . . . Poverty 
i s a great e v i l , but to a woman of education and feeling i t ought 
not, i t cannot be the greatest. I would rather be a 

10 
teacher at a School (and I can think of nothing worse )- L U than 
marry a man I did not l i k e . " 

The pragmatic Miss Watson r e p l i e s : 

"i would rather do any thing than be teacher at a school. 
_I have been at school, Emma, and know what a l i f e they lead; 
you never have. I should not l i k e marry a disagreeable 
man any more than y o u r s e l f , — b u t I do not think there are 
many very disagreeable men; I think I could l i k e any good 
humoured man with a comfortable income." (Shorter Works, pp. 91-2) 

I t i s possible to view Elizabeth Watson as a younger version of Miss 

Bates; i n f a c t , she describes a future, should she not marry, which 

i s i d e n t i c a l to Miss Bates' existence i n Emma. 

" . . . you know we must marry. I could do very well single for 
my own p a r t — A l i t t l e company, and a pleasant b a l l now and then, 
would be enough for me, i f one could be young for ever, but my 
father cannot provide for us, and i t i s very bad to grow old 
and be poor and laughed at." (p. 91) 

In The Watsons Jane Austen t e l l s of four s i s t e r s , of limited 

means, who each regard marriage d i f f e r e n t l y . Emma's point of view i s 

the most i d e a l i s t i c (therefore she i s Jane Austen's heroine) and 

Penelope's the most feverish. But one cannot help thinking—and did 

Jane Austen mean us to think i t ? — t h a t i t i s easier for Emma to 

i n s i s t upon love as a prerequisite for marriage, and despise a l l 

mercenary motives, since she has been brought up apart from her 

s i s t e r s , i n luxurious surroundings, and has not yet f e l t the i n d i g n i t i e s 

Neither could Jane Fairfax. 



60 

and privations of limited means. 

Jane Austen introduces the story of the aunt who has 

married for love: this action i s censured by the other characters 

i n the novel, even, we note with some surprise, by Emma. And 

why i s i t censured? Because the lady has been improvident enough 

to marry a penniless army captain (and an I r i s h one, to boot!) 

Indeed, a l l of the fragmentary Watsons i s concerned with the dilemma 

of choice which faced genteel ladies of dependent means. In their 

choosing, they were often between Scylla and Charybdis. Penelope 

Watson i s angling for " r i c h old Dr. Harding." Margaret i s 

desperately trying to "hook" the rakish Tom Musgrove. The men of 

the Watson s i s t e r s ' "choice" do not have much to recommend them as 

love-objects, but they are considered to be better than the 

alternative to marriage with them—i.e., "to grow old and be poor 

and laughed at." 

In advising her niece Fanny about marrying a man, who was 

e l i g i b l e i n a l l respects and yet with whom Fanny was not sure that 

she was i n love, Jane Austen cautioned her 

^ \ t r s . Arlbey, i n discussing a potential suitor for Camilla 
with S i r gedley, wishes to protect her charge from these sordid 
r e a l i t i e s , and asserts } 

"I hate him h e a r t i l y ; yet he r o l l s i n wealth, and she has 
nothing. I must bring them, therefore, together, p o s i t i v e l y : 
for though a husband such a fastidious one especially i s 
not what I would recommend to her for happiness, ' t i s better 
than poverty." (Camilla, Vol. I l l , p. 321) 

'Also asthmatic old Dr. Harding. 



61 

not to think of accepting him unless you r e a l l y 
do l i k e him. Anything i s to be preferred or endured 
rather than marrying without a f f e c t i o n . " ^ 

(Chawton: Friday [November 18, 1814]) 

and added, 

. . . nothing can be compared to the misery of being ^ 
bound without love—bound to one,aid preferring another. 

(23 Hans Place: Wednesday [November 30, 1814]) 

Jane Fairfax could not agree. Her engagement to the 

unpleasant Frank C h u r c h i l l i s , i n my opinion, an "escape" on 

her part from the alternative to marriage, an alternative she 

describes with such vividness that we may be sure i t has haunted her. 

'There are places i n town . . . offices for the s a l e — n o t quite 
of human f l e s h — b u t of human i n t e l l e c t . . . not . . . the 
slave-trade . . . [but the] governess-trade . . . widely 
different certainly as to the g u i l t of those who carry i t on; 
but as to the greater misery of the victims, I do not know 
where i t l i e s . " 

(Emma, pp. 300-301) 

Jane Austen admitted to her niece that "Single women have a 

dreadful propensity for being poor—which i s one very strong 

argument i n favor of matrimony," but urged , 

I s h a l l say as I have often said before, do not be i n a hurry, 
the r i g h t man w i l l come at l a s t ; you w i l l i n the course of the 
next two or three years meet with somebody more generally un-
exceptionable than anyone you have yet known, . . . who w i l l 
so completely^attract you that you w i l l f e e l you never r e a l l y 
loved before. 

(Chawton: Thursday [March 13, 1817]) 

13 
Austen-Leigh, L i f e and Letters, p. 344. 

^ I b i d . , p. 346. 
1 5 I b i d . , p. 351. 



62 

But Jane Fairfax, with the frightening example of her aunt, Miss 

Bates, before her, did not dare wait. Should she remain unmarried 

the only profession for an educated woman was that of a governess. 

Mrs. Weston's (nee Taylor) history was an exception to the general 

l o t of governesses. The majority, anomalies i n another woman's 

home, existing i n a no man's land between the drawing room and the 

servants' h a l l , were at the mercy a l i k e of t h e i r superiors and their 

i n f e r i o r s . The degradation of t h e i r position i s alluded to i n 

Mansfield Park. When the parts for "Lovers' Vows" are being 

assigned, and i t i s suggested that J u l i a should be the cottager's 

wife, Mr. Yates exclaims: 

"Cottager's wife! what are you talking of? The most t r i v i a l , 
p a l t r y , i n s i g n i f i c a n t part; the merest commonplace; not a 
tolerable speech i n the whole. Your s i s t e r do that! I t i s 
an i n s u l t to propose i t . At Ecclesford the governess was to 
have done i t . We a l l agreed that i t could not be offered to 
anybody else. " 

(Mansfield Park, p. 134) 

Chapman says that "romantic convention demanded that a novel 

should end on a prospect of l i f e l o n g f e l i c i t y . . . "^ but adds i n 

a footnote^"She [Jane Austen] was not prepared to take this for 

granted. Jane Fairfax was too good for Frank C h u r c h i l l ; and Jane 

Austen told her intimates that Mrs. Frank Churchill died young." 

We (and Mr. Knightley) admire Jane Fairfax and censure 

Frank C h u r c h i l l . Charlotte Lucas i s a close friend of Elizabeth 

Bennet's (which i s a strong point i n her favour), and we sympathize 

R. W. Chapman, Jane Austen: Facts and Problems, Oxford at 
the Clarendon Press, 1948, p. 186. 



63 

with Elizabeth Watson. Why does Jane Austen show these admirable 

and sensible women succumbing to (or w i l l i n g to succumb to) 

economic considerations i n deciding to marry without love? She 

does i t i n order to show the extent of the pressures which society 

imposed on women. Garrod writes that 

She knew, and was interested i n , not her own sex, . . . But 
the average feminine t r i v i a l i t y interests her immensely and 
entertains her adequately."^ 

Jane Austen had, i n fact, an extremely c r i t i c a l concern for the fate 

of women i n her society, a concern which involved a reconsideration 

of that society's basic values. Jane Fairfax i s a sympathetically-

treated symbol of the economic and s o c i a l v u l n e r a b i l i t y of women 

i n the l a t e eighteenth century and early nineteenth century. 

Elizabeth's joking comment that she began to f a l l i n love with Darcy 

upon seeing Pemberley i s her oblique a l l u s i o n to the economic tensions 

which were constantly intruding into the area of personal desire. 

D. W. Harding speaks of the scene i n which Mr. C o l l i n s sues 

for Elizabeth's hand as 

not only comic fantasy, but . . . for Elizabeth, a taste of the 
f a n t a s t i c nightmare i n which economic and s o c i a l i n s t i t u t i o n s 
have such power over the values of personal relationships that 
the comic monster i s nearly able to get her.-^ 

l^H. W. Garrod, "Jane Austen: A Depreciation," Essays by  
Divers Hands: Transactions of the Royal Society of Literature, V I I I , 
(1928), pp. 21-40. Reprinted i n Discussions of Jane Austen, ed. 
William Heath, Boston, D.C. Heath & Co., 1961, p. 36. 

1 0D. W. Harding, "Regulated Hatred: An Aspect of the Work 
of Jane Austen," Scrutiny, VIII (1940), pp. 346-62. Cited i n Discussions  
of Jane Austen, ed. William Heath, Boston, D.C.Heath & Co., 1961, p. 45. 



64 

The opening sentences i n Pride and Prejudice reveal, i n 

adumbrated form, the problem which beset young people of Jane 

Austen's era. 

I t i s a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man 
i n possession of a good fortune, must be i n want of a wife. 

However l i t t l e known the feelings or views of such a man 
may be on his f i r s t entering a neighbourhood, this truth i s so 
well fixed i n the minds of the surrounding f a m i l i e s , that he i s 
considered as the r i g h t f u l property of some one or other of 
t h e i r daughters, (p. 1) 

Immediately, the intrusion of f i n a n c i a l and material matters i n 

personal a f f a i r s i s apparent. Colonel F i t z w i l l i a m i s e x p l i c i t on 

this point. 

"... . i n matters of greater weight, I may suffer from the 
want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they l i k e " 

Elizabeth teases him, 

"Unless where they l i k e women of fortune, which I think they 
very often do." 

and goes on to inquire 

"And pray, what i s the usual price of an Earl's younger son? 
Unless the elder brother i s very s i c k l y , I suppose you would 
not ask above f i f t y thousand pounds." (p. 138) 

The theory that personal happiness should be subjected to f i n a n c i a l 

considerations i s not held by Jane Austen's favourite characters, 

but by those of whom she does not approve. Elizabeth, believing 

that Bingley's s i s t e r s have persuaded him to forget Jane, conjectures: 

They may wish many things besides his happiness; they may 
wish his increase of wealth and consequence; they may wish 
him to marry a g i r l who has a l l the importance of money, 
great connections, and pride, (p. 104) 

This i s the "prudence" that i s attributed to Elizabeth on the 

strength of her teasing reply to Jane as to how long she had been 



65 

i n love with Darcy. 

" I t has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know 
when i t began. But I believe I must date i t from my f i r s t 
seeing his beautiful grounds at Pemberley." 

That i t wis spoken i n j e s t i s clear from the lines following. 

Another intreaty that she would be serious, however, 
produced the desired e f f e c t , and she soon s a t i s f i e d Jane 
by her solemn assurances of attachment, (p. 279) 

I t i s impossible to equate Elizabeth Bennet with a Mr. Elton, 

who 

. . . wanted to marry w e l l , and having the arrogance to 
raise his eyes to her [Emma], pretended to be i n love; 
. . . He only wanted to aggrandize and enrich himself; 
and i f Miss Woodhouse df) H a r t f i e l d , the heiress of t h i r t y 
thousand pounds, were not quite so easily obtained as he 
had fancied, he would soon try for Miss Somebody else with 
twenty, or with ten. (Emma, p. 135) 

Elizabeth does not set out with a plan i n mind to "marry w e l l , " 

she does not "pretend to be i n love," and from her disapproval of 

Charlotte's marriage we see that she disapproves of those who seek 

to "aggrandize and enrich themselves" through marriage. 

She had always f e l t that Charlotte's opinion of matrimony 
was not exactly l i k e her own, but she could not have supposed 
i t possible that when called into action, she would have 
s a c r i f i c e d every better feeling to worldly advantage. (Pride  
and Prejudice, p. 95) 

Mr. Chapman speaks of the "quite common" interpretation of Pride . 

and Prejudice's Elizabeth Bennet as being " f i r s t brought round 
19 

by the sight of the wealth and grandeur of Pemberley." Sir 

Walter Scott's statement i s the one most often cited. 

Chapman, op_. c i t . , p. 192. 



66 

She accidently v i s i t s a very handsome seat and grounds 
belonging to her admirer. They chance to meet exactly as 
her prudence had begun to subdue her prejudice.^0 

The l i n e which has caused such widespread condemnation of E l i z a b e t h — 

At that moment she f e l t , that to be mistress of Pemberley 
might be something! (p. 181) 

i s one which only a Jane Austen would dare include i n her p o r t r a i t 

of a woman. I t i s psychologically true, a perfectly understandable 
21 

reaction. Who would not have a moment of chagrin upon discovering 

that he/she had rejected something quite extraordinary? But I would 

pose the question, "Can anyone r e a l l y believe that Elizabeth Bennet's 

refusal of Darcy would have been couched i n terms any less angry had 

she seen Pemberley prior to Darcy's proposal?" I t would not. 

Elizabeth i s unimpressed by Darcy's having "ten thousand Ipounds] a 

year," and had already learned that Pemberley was a splendid estate. 

Further proof of the genuine quality of her feelings for him 

can be found when Elizabeth misinterprets Darcy's "gloomy a i r " 

following her revelation of Lydia's elopement. The conviction that 

Darcy's regard for her must now be shattered due to her family's 

disgrace i s 
exactly calculated to make her understand her own wishes; 
and never had she so honestly f e l t that she could have loved 
him, as now, when a l l love must be vain. (p. 206) 

Of) 
S i r Walter Scott, "Emma," Quarterly Review, XIV (1815), 

pp. 188-201. Reprinted i n Discussions of Jane Austen, ed. William 
Heath, Boston, D. C. Heath & Co., 1961, p. 8. 

21 
And note that Jane Austen says only, "at that moment." 

22 
I t i s amusing to note that upon Darcy's a r r i v a l i n the v i l l a g e , 

after the news of his having ten thousand a year i s circulated, i t i s 
decided that he i s "much handsomer than Mr. Bingley" (who has four 
thousand a year). Mr. Darcy i s , I suggest, 6000 pounds a year handsomer. 



67 

H. W. Garrod contends that Jane Austen "accept[s] as not 

only good, but natural, . . . the marriage of convenience." 

When Elizabeth i s leaving after a v i s i t to the now-married Charlotte 

C o l l i n s she muses: 

I t was melancholy to leave her to such society; but she 
had chosen i t with her eyes open; and though evidently 
regretting that her v i s i t o r s were to go, she did not seem 
to ask for compassion. Her home and her housekeeping, her 
parish and her poultry, and a l l their dependent concerns, 
had not yet l o s t their charms.2^ (p. 162) 

The underlined words indicate Jane Austen's opinion of the chances 

for continued marital " b l i s s " i n a loveless marriage. 

Jane Austen condemns those of her characters who demand 

nothing more of marriage partners than economic compatibility. 

When Charles and Mary Musgrove discuss Henrietta Musgrove's 

potential s u i t o r s , neither makes reference to any personal q u a l i t i e s ; 

they are never an issue for the materially-oriented minds. 

Any assurance that may be wanting as to Jane Austen's 

reaction to mariages de convenance may be found i n the conversation 

she describes between Elinor Dashwood and her brother. John Dashwood 

begins: 

"Who i s Colonel Brandon? Is he a man of fortune?" 
"Yes, he has very good property i n Dorsetshire." 
"I am glad of i t . . . I think, E l i n o r , I may congratulate 
you on the prospect of a very respectable establishment i n 
l i f e . " 
"Me, Brother! what do you mean? . . . I am very sure that 
Colonel Brandon has not the smallest wish of marrying me." 
"You are mistaken, E l i n o r . . . . A very l i t t l e trouble on 
your side secures him. Perhaps just at present he may be 
undecided; the smallness of your fortune may make him hang 
back; his friends may a l l advise him against i t . But 

23 Garrod, 0£. c i t . , p. 35. 

My xtalxcs. 



68 

some of those l i t t l e attentions and encouragements which 
ladies can so easily give w i l l f i x him i n spite of himself. 
And there can be no reason why you should not try for him. 
I t i s not to be supposed that any prior attachment on your 
s i d e — i n short you know, as to an attachment of that kind 
i t i s quite out of the question, the objections are insur-
mountable—Colonel Brandon must be the man. . . . " 
(Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , pp. 223-24) 

The "prior attachment," love for Edward Ferrars, was not to be 

allowed to interfere with an advantageous economic union. His 

s i s t e r Marianne's beauty was also considered i n terms of i t s worth 

as a bartering factor. Her i l l n e s s , he fears, has "destroy[ed] the 

bloom for ever!" He calculates, 

" I question whether Marianne now w i l l marry a man worth more 
than f i v e or s i x hundred a year at the utmost, and I am very 
much deceived i f you do not do better." (p. 227) 

Jane Austen's own views of marriage were more r a d i c a l i n 

her own age than they are today. The concept of women as objects 

for barter was widespread, and considered to be perfectly acceptable. 

The blatant eagerness with which an heiress was pursued carried on 

w e l l into the nineteenth century. Thackeray alludes to i t with his 

account of the wealthy mulatto graduate of St. K i t t ' s marriage. 
2 5 

Today's heiress hunters haven't the "decency" as G. E. Mitton 

describes i t , but the hypocrisy, as they are at least ashamed of 

their motives, to pretend to be i n love. I t i s often Jane Austen's 

" v i l l a i n s , " i f such we may c a l l them, who are w i l l i n g to marry for 

money, without love—Wickham, Willoughby, Isabella and John Thorpe, 

G. E. Mitton, Jane Austen and Her Times, London, Methuen 
& Co., 1905, p. 144. 



Mr. William E l l i o t . 

"Her women were obsessed by the game of matrimony. . . ." 

This sweeping generalization surely cannot be meant to include 

Elizabeth Bennet, or Catherine Morland, or Emma Watson, or Fanny 

P r i c e , or Emma Woodhouse (who was only concerned with helping others 

to play the "game"). Jane Austen's heroines are heroines for her 

because they are not obsessed by the game of matrimony. 

Dr. Bald goes on, 

Their apparent artlessness was often the result of a care-
f u l l y studied pose: (and produces the quotation) 

Where people wish to a t t r a c t they should always be 
ignorant. To come with a well-informed mind i s to 
come with an i n a b i l i t y of ministering to the vanity 
of others. . . . A woman, especially, i f she have the 
misfortune of knowing anything, should conceal i t as 
w e l l as she can.^7 (Northanger Abbey, pp. 110-111) 

Of the heroines just mentioned, only Catherine Morland "administers 

to the vanity" of her lover, and does so because she t r u l y i s 

ingenuous. 

Garrod states: 

[The] husband-hunt . . . i s conducted with almost equal 
unreserve by two contrasted feminine characters (who are 
very often s i s t e r s ) : the G i r l of S p i r i t and the Tame G i r l , 
Elizabeth and Jane, Marianne and E l i n o r . . . . ̂ 8 

But Elizabeth does not "hunt" Darcy, nor Elinor hunt Edward, and 

Jane could not hunt even i f she wanted to, for she would not know 

how. Only Jane Austen's unpleasant characters " s t a l k their prey": 

Mr. Elton, Willoughby, Miss Bingley, Margaret and Penelope Watson, 

9 f\ 
Marjory Bald, Women-Writers of the Eighteenth Century, 

Cambridge at the University Press, 1923, p. 24. 
27 

Loc. c i t . 
2 8 

Garrod, op. c i t . , p. 38. 



70 

Tom Musgrove. Theirs i s the attitude to marriage that i s described 

by Thomas Gisborne, a prominent divine of the late eighteenth century. 

If a union about to take place, or recently contracted, between 
two young persons, i s mentioned i n conversation, the f i r s t 
question which we hear asked concerning i t i s , whether i t be a 
good match. The very countenance and voice of the inquirer, 
and of the answerer, the terms of the answer returned, and the 
observations, whether expressive of s a t i s f a c t i o n or of regret, 
which f a l l from the l i p s of the company present i n the c i r c l e , 
a l l concur to shew what, i n common estimation, i s meant by 
being w e l l married. I f a young woman be described as thus 
married, the terms imply, that she i s united to a man whose 
rank and fortune i s such, when compared with her own or those 
of her parents, that i n point of precedence, i n point of 
command of finery and of money, she i s , more or l e s s , a gainer 
by the bargain. They imply, that she w i l l now possess the 
enviable advantages of taking [the] place of other ladies i n the 
neighbourhood; of decking herself out with jewels and lace; 
of inhabiting splendid apartments; r o l l i n g i n handsome carriages; 
gazing on numerous servants i n gaudy l i v e r i e s ; and of going to 
London, and other fashionable scenes of resort, i n a degree 
somewhat higher than that i n which a calculating broker, after 
poring on her pedigree, summing up her property i n hand, and 
computing, at the market price, what i s contingent or i n 
reversion, would have pronouced her e n t i t l e d to them. But 
what do the terms imply as to the character of the man selected 
to be her husband? Probably nothing. His character i s a matter 
which seldom enters into the consideration of the persons who 
use them, unless i t , at length, appears i n the shape of an 
afterthought, or i s awkwardly hitched onto t h e i r remarks for 
the sake of decorum. I f the terms imply any thing, they mean 
no more than that he i s not scandalously and notoriously addicted 
to vice. He may be proud, he may be ambitious, he may be 
malignant, he may be devoid of Christian p r i n c i p l e s , practice, 
and b e l i e f ; or, to say the very l e a s t , i t may be t o t a l l y unknown 
whether he does not f a l l , i n every p a r t i c u l a r , under t h i s 
description; and yet, i n the language and i n the opinion of 
the generality of both sexes, the match i s excellent. In l i k e 
manner a small diminution of the supposed advantages already 
enumerated, though counterpoised by the acquisition of a 
companion eminent for his v i r t u e s , i s supposed to constitute 
a bad match; and i s universallylamented i n p o l i t e meetings 
with r e a l or affected concern. 

Thomas Gisborne, "Considerations Antecedent to Marriage," 
An Enquiry into the Duties of the Female Sex, (1797). This essay 
appears i n Pride and Prejudice: Text, Backgrounds, C r i t i c i s m , ed. 
B. A. Booth, New York, Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc., 1963, p. 173. 



71 

Elizabeth Bennet's exchange with Charlotte Lucas exonerates 

Elizabeth and Jane from Garrod's charge of "husband-hunting." 

Charlotte advises that Jane should 

"shew more a f f e c t i o n than she feels . . . . When she i s secure 
of [Bingley], there w i l l be l e i s u r e for f a l l i n g i n love as 
much as she chooses." (Pride and Prejudice, p. 15) 

Elizabeth r e p l i e s , 

"Your plan i s a good one, where nothing i s i n question but 
the desire of being well married; and i f I were determined 
to get a r i c h husband, or any husband, I dare say I should 
adopt i t . But these are not Jane's feelings; she i s not act-
ing by design." (p. 15) 

And i f Elinor viewed Edward as nothing more than her "prey," his 

"want of s p i r i t s , " his apparent "indifference" which made her f e e l 

the longer they were together the more doubtful seemed the 
nature of his regard (Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 22) 

would not have caused her "pain." (p. 22) " P a i n f u l , " too, i s 

Elizabeth's reaction upon hearing Darcy c r i t i c i z e d . Her unhappiness 

i s very r e a l when her father, after hearing of her betrothal, 

continues to speak of Darcy as "a proud, unpleasant sort of man." 

(Pride and Prejudice, p. 281) 

"I do, I do l i k e him," she r e p l i e d , with tears i n her eyes. 
"I love him. Indeed he has no improper pride. He i s perfectly 
amiable. You do not know what he r e a l l y i s ; then pray do not 
pain me by speaking of him i n such terms." (p. 281) 

This i s hardly the behaviour of a woman who i s marrying for money. 

I f Garrod's contention were correct, Elizabeth, having "bagged her 

game," would not be upset by hearing Darcy maligned. 

Dorothy Van Ghent describes the marriage r i t e i n Jane 

Austen's world as 

an 'ordeal' i n that t r a d i t i o n a l sense of a moral testing . . . 
what w i l l be tested w i l l be . . . i n t e g r i t y of 'feeling' 



72 

30 under the crudely threatening s o c i a l pressures. 

Elizabeth i s shocked and disappointed to see Charlotte Lucas 

succumb to these " s o c i a l pressures," 
She had always f e l t that Charlotte's opinion of matrimony 
was not exactly l i k e her own, but she could not have 
supposed i t possible that when called into action, she would 
have s a c r i f i c e d every better feeling to worldly advantage. 
Charlotte the wife of Mr. C o l l i n s , was a most humiliating 
picture! (Pride and Prejudice, pp. 95-96) 

Like Thomas Gisborne, who writes i n "Consideration Antecedent to 

Marriage": 

[considering] those who contract marriages, either c h i e f l y , 
or i n a considerable degree, through motives of interest 
or of ambition, i t would be f o l l y . . . to expect that 
such marriages, however they may answer the purposes of 
interest or of ambition, should terminate otherwise than 
i n wretchedness. Wealth may be secured, rank may be obtained; 
but i f wealth and rank are to be the main ingredients i n the 
cup of matrimonial f e l i c i t y , the sweetness of wine w i l l be 
exhausted at once, and nothing remain but b i t t e r and corrosive 

31 

dregs. 

Elizabeth has 
the distressing conviction that i t [ w i l l be] impossible for 
[Charlotte] to be tolerably happy i n the l o t she [has] chosen, 
(p. 96) 

Garrod accuses Jane Austen of accepting "as not only good, 

but natural, . . . the marriage of convenience."^^ He gives no proof 

for his assertion, and I can find none i n Jane Austen's novels or 

Dorothy Van Ghent, "On Pride and Prejudice" (1953), 
from Pride and Prejudice: Text, Backgrounds, C r i t i c i s m , ed. B. A. 
Booth, New York, Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc., 1963, pp. 215-16. 

31 
Gisborne, op_. c i t . , p. 173. 

32 Garrod, o j 3 . c i t . , p. 35. 



73 

l e t t e r s . Perhaps Garrod i s thinking of the Lydia-Wickham menage. 

Here i s Elizabeth's comment on the l e g a l cementing of Lydia and 

Wickham's relationship: 

"And for this we are to be thankful. That they should marry, 
small as i s their chance of happiness, and wretched as i s his 
character, we are forced to r e j o i c e ! " 

(Pride and Prejudice, p. 226) 

I t i s rather incredible that Jane Austen did not accept 

"as not only good, but natural, . . . the marriage of convenience," 

for she paints the alternative to marriage, at least for impoverished 

women, v i v i d l y and sympathetically. Elizabeth Drew speaks of the world 
33 

Jane Austen describes as "a haven of peace . . . and simple values." 

But i t was not a haven for the Misses Bates and Jane Fairfaxes of the 

period. Miss Bates i s too simple to recognize f u l l y the precarious-

ness of her position. Jane Fairfax, more astute, marries Frank 

C h u r c h i l l — a choice, one f e e l s , that would never have been made i f 

Jane had had Emma's s o c i a l advantages. But we r e c a l l that Jane 

Austen remarked privately that Jane Fairfax died soon after her 

marriage to Frank C h u r c h i l l — a very odd conclusion to what Garrod 

would have us believe Jane Austen views as "not only good, but natural." 

Elizabeth Drew, The Novel: A Modern Guide to Fifteen  
English Masterpieces, New York, W.W. Norton & Co.Ltd., 1963, p. 95. 



CONCLUSION 

Jane Austen's attitude toward the passion of love, most 

maturely expressed i n Persuasion, i s c l e a r l y adumbrated i n her 

less subtle treatment of the same subject i n Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y 

and Pride and Prejudice. Aware of i t s duality, at one moment both 

emotional and r a t i o n a l , she saw the inadequacies (and dangers) of 

"love" which based i t s e l f solely on passion. Thomas Gisborne, i n 

his essay "Considerations Antecedent to Marriage", poses a question 

about two people who may consider being "bound during t h e i r j o i n t 

l i v e s to the society of each other" to which Mr. Bennet stands as 

a symbolic answer. 

Unless the dispositions, the temper, the habits, the 
genuine character and inmost principles were mutually known; 
what r a t i o n a l hope, what tolerable chance of happiness could 
subsist? 

Mr. Bennet's daughter, whose attitude to love i s that of Jane Austen, 

came to r e a l i z e that Darcy 

was exactly the man, who, i n disposition and talents, would 
most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike 
her own, would have answered a l l her wishes. I t was a union 
that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease and 
l i v e l i n e s s , his mind might have been softened, his manners 
improved, and from his judgment, information, and knowledge 
of the world, she must have received benefit of greater 
importance. (Pride and Prejudice, p. 232) 

Gisborne, op_. c i t . , p. 171. 



75 

E l i z a b e t h , c e r t a i n that Darcy would "shrink" from any connection 

with her newly-disgraced family, as yet unaware of his voluntary 

involvement i n Lydia and Wickham's sordid a f f a i r , laments the f a c t 

that 

no such happy marriage [as the one she envisions above] 
could now teach the admiring multitude what connubial 
f e l i c i t y r e a l l y was. (p. 232) 

Fortunately, Darcy, having also ascertained Elizabeth's " d i s p o s i t i o n , 

temper, [and] genuine character," renews his address despite her 

" i n f e r i o r connections." 

When Elizabeth expresses her gratitude for "that generous 

compassion which induced [him] to take so much trouble, and bear 

so many m o r t i f i c a t i o n s , " he r e p l i e s , 

" I f you w i l l thank me, l e t i t be for yourself alone. 
That the wish of giving happiness to you, might add force 
to the other inducements which led me on, I s h a l l not 
attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much 
as I respect them, I believe, I thought only of you." (p. 273) 

We may contrast Darcy with Willoughby, a character 

considered by many c r i t i c s to be f a r superior to Darcy as a " l o v e r . " 

He i s summed up accurately by E l i n o r . 

"The whole of his behaviour . . . has been grounded on s e l f i s h -
ness. I t was s e l f i s h n e s s which f i r s t made him sport with 
your a f f e c t i o n s ; which afterwards, when his own were engaged, 
made him delay the confession of i t , and which f i n a l l y c a r r i e d 
him from Barton. His own enjoyment, or his own ease, was, i n 
every p a r t i c u l a r , his r u l i n g p r i n c i p l e . " (Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y , p. 351) 

Marianne concurs. 

" I t i s very true. My_ happiness never was his object." (p. 351) 



76 

And yet G. B. Stern s t i l l i n s i s t s , 

"I would sooner have sanctioned [Marianne's] marriage to 
Willoughby . . . Marianne's soul would at least not have 
been damped and s t i f l e d . " ^ 

Elinor describes the " i d e a l " marriage which Stern longed to see. 

"Had you [Marianne and Willoughby] married, you must have been 
always poor. His expensiveness i s acknowledged even by him-
s e l f , and his whole conduct declares that s e l f - d e n i a l i s a 
word hardly understood by him . . .how l i t t l e could the utmost 
of your single management do to stop the ruin which had begun 
before your marriage?-—Beyond that, had you endeavoured, 
however reasonably, to abridge his enjoyments, i s i t not to 
be feared, that instead of prevailing on feelings so s e l f i s h 
to consent to i t , you would have lessened your own influence 
on his heart, and made him regret the connection which had 
involved him i n such d i f f i c u l t i e s ? " (p. 351) 

As Gisborne warns, and as Marianne cannot see early i n the book, when 

she Is u t t e r l y captivated by Willoughby, despite knowing nothing of 

him except that "of music and dancing he [ i s ] passionately fond," 

[a ] woman who receives for her husband a person of whose 
moral character she knows no more than that i t i s outwardly 
decent, stakes her welfare upon a very hazardous experiment.3 

Ernest Baker, not sharing, and apparently f a i l i n g to understand, 

Jane Austen's concept of love as a r a t i o n a l as well as emotional process, 

complains: 

. . . Jane Austen was always coy over love scenes, and so 
f a i l e d to make good . . . the personal fascination of 
Willoughby . . . Marianne's transports seem to be mere 
infatuation for a worthless object.4 

2 
Sheila Kaye-Smith and. G. B. Stern, Talking of Jane Austen, London, 

Cassell & Co., 1943, p. 126. 
3 
Gisborne, op. c i t . , p. 174. 

4 
Ernest Baker, The History of the English Novel, Vol. VI, 

New.York, Barnes & Noble, Inc., 1929, p. 76. 



77 

Mr. Baker.seems to think that Jane Austen was attempting to 

establish the v a l i d i t y of the love-relationship between Marianne 

and Willoughby. The fact that "Marianne's transports seem to be mere 

infatuation" i s to him a f a u l t i n the novel. Jane Austen i s 

e n t i r e l y capable of presenting love w e l l ; she i s not endeavouring 

to present love between Marianne and Willoughby, but i s demonstrating 

that what they f e e l for each other i s not love. As Jane Austen r e a l i z e s , 

the "passionate" never r e a l l y love at a l l . They can verbalize their 

emotions, unlike Elizabeth Bennet, who "not very f l u e n t l y " ^ (Pride 

and Prejudice, p. 273) assures Darcy of her love, but their emotions 

are seen to lack substance. They can be summoned i n a moment. A 

" p a r t i c u l a r l y picturesque" view i s s u f f i c i e n t to activate them. For 

Jane Austen, "to f e e l " was not enough. Her concept of love i s far 

more "passionate" than that of the sentimental novelists. The mind, 

as well as the heart, must be engaged. 

Perhaps much of the f a i l u r e to understand, or to recognize, 

Jane Austen's concept of love, i s the result of her presentation of 

love. The presentation i s an extension of part of her concept: that 

i s , Jane Austen saw love as being manifested not by words, but by 

deeds. The "passionate," loquacious Willoughby makes no s a c r i f i c e 

Subsequently, i n teasing Darcy, she remarks, 

"You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner." 

He defends himself. 

"A man who had f e l t l e s s , might." (p. 285) 



78 

for Marianne's happiness. The " r a t i o n a l , " laconic Darcy "bears . . . 

many mortifications" for Elizabeth's sake. Jane Austen's true "lovers" 

maintain a surface of composure, but "what throbs fast and f u l l , 

though hidden" l i e s just beneath this surface. I t i s revealed i n 

flashes by the exquisitely sure touch of Austen's pen. Are we to 

recognize only those passions which are vociferously expressed? 

"Vice, adventure, passion"—these are a l l to be found i n Jane 

Austen's novels. I t requires only "ingenuity" to discover them. 

The subtlety of t h e i r delineation does not invalidate their 

existence. The measure of perfection l i e s not i n profusion, but i n 

profundity. 



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Lerner, Lawrence. The Truth T e l l e r s : Jane Austen, George E l i o t , 
D. H. Lawrence. London, Chatto & Windus, 1967. 

L i d d e l l , Robert. The Novels of Jane Austen. London, Longmans Green, 
1963. 

L i t z , A. Walton. Jane Austen: A Study of Her A r t i s t i c Development. 
New York, Oxford University Press, 1965. 

Mitton, G. E. Jane Austen and Her Times. London, Methuen & Co., 1905. 

Moler, Kenneth L. Jane Austen's Art of A l l u s i o n. Lincoln, University 
of Nebraska Press, 1968. 

Mudrick, M. Jane Austen: Irony as Defense and Discovery. Princeton, 
Princeton University Press, 1952. 

Pollock, W. H. Jane Austen: Her Contemporaries and Herself. London, 
Longmans Green, 1899. 

Rhydderch, David. Jane Austen, Her L i f e and Art. London, Jonathan 
Cape, 1932. 

Seymour, Beatrice Kean. Jane Austen: Study for a P o r t r a i t . London, 
Michael Joseph, 1937. 

Sherry, Norman. Jane Austen. London, Evans Brothers, 1966. 



Southam, B. G. Jane Austen: The C r i t i c a l Heritage. London, Routledge 
& Kegan Paul, 1968. 

Jane Austen's Literary Manuscripts: A Study of the Novelist's  
Development through the Surviving Papers. London, Oxford University 
Press, 1964. 

Ten Harmsel, H. Jane Austen: A Study i n F i c t i o n a l Conventions. The 
Hague, Mouton, 1964. 

Thomson, C. L. Jane Austen: A Survey. London, Horace Marshall & Son, 
1929. 

Warner, Sylvia Townsend. Jane Austen, 1775-1817. London, published 
for The B r i t i s h Council by Longmans Green, 1951. 

Watt, Ian (ed.). Jane Austen: A Collection of C r i t i c a l Essays. 
Englewood C l i f f s , Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1963. 

Wiesenfarth, Joseph. The Errand of Form: An Assay of Jane 
Austen's Art. New York, Fordham University Press, 1967. 

Wright, Andrew H. Jane Austen's Novels: A Study i n Structure. London, 
Chatto & Windus, 1953. 

P e r i o d i c a l A r t i c l e s 

Bradbury, Malcolm. "Jane Austen's Emma." C r i t i c a l Quarterly, Vol. IV, 
No. 4 (Winter, 1962), pp 335-46. 

Brower, Reuben A. "The Controlling Hand: Jane Austen and Pride and 
Prejudice." Scrutiny, XIII (1945), pp 99-111. 

Bush, Douglas. "Mrs. Bennet and the Dark Gods: The Truth about Jane 
Austen." Sewanee Review, LXIV (1956), pp 591-96. 

Daiches, David. "Jane Austen, K a r l Marx and the A r i s t o c r a t i c Dance." 
The American Scholar, XVII (1947), pp 289-96. 

Harding, D. W. "Regulated Hatred: An Aspect of the Work of Jane 
Austen." Scrutiny, VIII (1940), pp 346-62. 

K l i g e r , Samuel. "Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice i n The Eighteenth-
Century Mode." University of Toronto Quarterly, XVI (1947), 
pp 357-70. 

Leavis, Q. D. "A C r i t i c a l Theory of Jane Austen's Writings." Scrutiny, 
X (June, 1941), pp 61-87. 

"'Lady Susan' into 'Mansfield Park'," Scrutiny, X (October, 
1941; January, 1942), pp 114-142, pp 272-294. 



Leavis, Q. D. "A C r i t i c a l Theory of Jane Austen's Writings: I I I The 
Letters." Scrutiny, XII (Spring, 1944), pp 104-119. 

Parks, Edd Winfield. "Jane Austen's Art of Rudeness." University  
of Toronto Quarterly, XX (1951), pp 381-87. 

Schorer, Mark. "Pride Unprejudiced." Kenyon Review, XVIII (1956), 
pp 72-91 

Scott, S. M. "Pride, Prejudice, and Property." Michigan Alumni  
Quarterly Review, LVII (1951), pp 172-99. 

Novels 

Austen, Jane. Northanger Abbey and Persuasion. Sense and S e n s i b i l i t y . 
Mansfield Park. Emma. (The Text Based on C o l l a t i o n of the Early 
Editions by R. W. Chapman, In Five Volumes.) Third E d i t i o n , Oxford 
at the Clarendon Press, 1933. 

Love and Freindship and Other Early Works. (Now F i r s t 
Printed from the O r i g i n a l i s . by Jane Austen), London, Chatto 
& Windus, 1922. 

Pride and Prejudice. Boston, Houghton M i f f l i n Co., 1956. 

Burney, Fanny. Camilla. Vols. I-V. Printed for T. Payne, at the 
Mews-Gate, and T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies i n the Strand, 1796. 

. Evelina. New York, W. W. Norton & Co., 1965. 

Proust, Marcel. Swann's Way. (Trans. C. K. Scott Moncrieff.) New 
York, Modern Library, 1928. 

R a d c l i f f e , Ann. The Mysteries of Udolpho. New York, Juniper Press 
(no date). 

Richardson, Samuel. Pamela. New York, W. W. Norton & Co.-, 1958. 

Thackeray, W. M. Vanity F a i r . New York, Holt,.Rinehart & Winston, 
1955. 

Walpole, Horace. The Castle of Otranto. New York, Holt, Rinehart & 
Winston, 1963.