Sense and Sensibility
and the Problem of
Feminine Authority
Tara Ghoshal Wallace
F
or almost two hundred years, readers of Sense and Sensibiliiy have
questioned Jane Austen's ambivalence towards the values of proper
conduct as opposed to those of inner-directed behaviour; but this question
has tended to obscure another ideological issue in the novel-the issue
of feminine authority and power.' While readers debate whether the narI Critics bath sympathetic and hostile to the code of propriety a w e to locate the issue at the e e n a
of the novel. Marilvn Butler. for whom Elinor is "an active.. srmsrhc Christian in a difficult
world," says of See& and Schibility that ''The entire d o n is o r g a n i d lo represent Elinor and
Marianne in ( e m s of rival value svstemsSS
(Jane Autcn and t k War of IdLas [Oxford. Clanndm
--
~
Dtrcowry IPnnceton Pnnccton Un~vmtryRcs. 19521. p 91) Angela Lclghton. p v r a n g a
femm~slrevwon of Mudnck. notes h a t ' Elmor's S~lenccshave Ausen'% approval: they s~gnrfy
heroic reticence and cmfml, and arr contained by the language of Sense. Marianne's Silences
signify emotions which have escaped wnfml, and which & therefore in opposition to Ausm's
an" ("Sense and Silences: Reading lane Austen Again" in Jane Amen: New Perspectives, ed.
Janet Todd, Women ond Literature, n.8. 3 lNew Yo& Holmes and Meier, 19831, 132). 'IB~llosc
who blur or reverse the convelvional identifications remain convinced of the ce&aliG of this
issue. Hward S. Babb, pointing to rhetorid evidence of overlapping, finds h a t ''The argument
remains utterly conventional, and lane Austen's pursuit of it by wcing what might be called
the double allegiance of each sister makes the navel none the less rigid" (Jane Auten'r Novek
The Fabric of Diologvc [Columbus: Ohio Stlte University Ress. 1%21, p. 56): and Ian Fergus,
reversing the dichotomy, argues that "Om of Austen's major interests in Ihe novel is to define
feeling and msitive behaviour ... This behaviaur is whm Elinor exhibits and Marianne violates
rhmughout the novel. It is Mariame who must learn lo behave feelingly. not Elinor" (Jane
Awten and t k Didodic Novel: "Northanger Abbey.'' "Sense and Senribility" and "Pride ond
Prejudice" [ToIowa. NJ: Barnes and Noble, 19831, pp. 4041). Sandra M. Oilbelt and Susan
Gubar, in The MomUom~in t k Anic: The W o m n Writer and the Nineteenth-CcnruryLitermy
Imngimtion (New Haven: Yale University Ress, 1979). detect a Iension in Be novel "because
AusIen herself seems caught between her amaction to Marianm's sincerity and spontaneity,
E I G H T E E N T H - C E N T U R Y FICTION. Volume 4. Number 2, January 1992
150 E I O H T E E N T H - C E N T U R Y F I C T I O N
rator is drawing rigid lines between sense and feeling, they may overlook
the book's attitude towards female power, an attitude which is negative,
cautionary, devaluing. In this essay I argue that Sense and Sensibility
betrays Austen's anxieties about female authority; seen from this perspective the novel reveals struggles and tensions rather than ideological
serenity.
The most straightforward way to begin is to assert that Sense and Sensibility is an account of Austen's failure to legitimate feminine authority.
It is Austen's most antifeminist book, a book inhabited by monstrous
women and victimized men, a book which seems to deny all possibility
of sisterhood, articulated in its equivocal last words-"and
among the
merits and the happiness of Elinor and Marianne, let it not be ranked as
the least considerable, that though sisters, and living almost within sight
of each other, they could live without disagreement between them~elves."~
At the same time, feminist critics such as Pahicia Meyer Spacks and Deborah Kaplan have shown that Sense and Sensibility criticizes patriarchal
values and practices.' The dichotomy between fear of feminine authority
and desire for it occupies Austen's novelistic imagination and informs
her narrative strategies in Sense and Sensibility.
One antifeminist strategy that Austen consistently uses is the diversionary tactic. The sins of a man, while not ignored or excused, are
overshadowed by an emphasis on the despicable behaviour of a woman.
Manifested in nearly every male/female relationship in the novel, the device is pervasive. For example, although Elinor ceases to blame Charlotte
Palmer for her husband's rudeness (p. 112), the dialogue that follows her
re-evaluation demonstrates not the husband's ill breeding, but the wife's
foolishness. What the reader experiences, through Elinor's conversation
while at the s a w time identifying with the civil falsehoods and rhe resewed, polite silences of
Elinor, whose art is fiuingly pomayed as the painting of screens" (p. 157). 1 believe Ihat what
Austen rmns in this navel is her discomfort with her own view of the mle and authority of
women.
2 7%c Nowls of Jane Aurtcn. ed. R.W. Chapman, 5 vols, 3rd edition (London:Oxford University
Press. 1932). I. 380. References are to this edition.
3 Spadrs points to "the varieties of female submission" in Sense ond Sensibilig and shows how
the novel exhibits the limited, constricted life of women (''The Difference It Makes," Soundings 64 [1981], 356573. Kaplan, whose aim, like mine, is to examine Austen's 'particular
ac~mmodationof femininity and authority." finds that Austen lacates feminine authority in
"a trope not of reproduction and resemblance but of revision and difference" ("Achieving Authority: Jane Austen's First Published Novel," Nineteenth-Cenrury Fiction 37 [1983], 535-37).
See alsa Mary Poovey. The Proper Lody nnd the Wornon W r i a c Ideology as Sgle in the Work
of Mary WolLrfonecr&, Mary Shelley, ond J m e Amten (Chicago: University of Chicago Ress,
1984). p. 193.
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY 151
with Mrs Palmer, is the difficulty of responding politely to vulgarity and
mindless chatter. No comparable experience of Mr Palmer is offered;
instead, we are told about Elinor's mixed feelings:
She found him, however, perfectly the gentleman in his behaviour to all visitors.
and only occasionally rude to his wife and her mother; she found him very
capable of being a pleasant companion. and only prevented from being so always,
by too great an aptitude to fancy himself as much superior to people in general,
as he must feel himself to be to Mrs. Jennings and Charlotte. (p. 304)
This evaluation not only suggests women's inadequacies, but also problematizes Elinor's judgment. We learn that her mild resistance to Mr
Palmer is connected to her "remembrance of Edward's generous temper"
(p. 305), and this fact personalizes and renders her evaluation less authoritative; Mr Palmer emerges more or less unscathed by the criticisms
of Elinor, and Austen seems to accept his behaviour as perfectly normal?
More significantly, the actions of John Dashwood and his great-uncle
are allowed to become peripheral. The famous dialogue between John
Dashwood and his wife obscures the patriarchal insensitivity of the old
man and shades the cold selfishness of the young one. What remains
prominent in the reader's mind is Fanny Dashwood's aggressive manipulation of her husband's irresolute desires. John himself describes his
decision in words that give Fanny credit for it: "I believe you are perfectly right. My father certainly could mean nothing more by his request
to me than what you say. I clearly understand it now, and I will strictly
fulfill my engagement by such acts of assistance and kindness to them
as you have described" (p. 12). He cedes agency to her, and thereby abrogates responsibility for his conduct to his sisters. Fanny wins; but so
does John, for his meanness is projected onto his wife.
Another small example helps establish the pattern. When Sir John
Middleton's unrestrained hospitality leads him to invite the Steele sisters
to his home, "Lady Middleton was thrown into no little alarm ... by
hearing that she was very soon to receive a visit from two girls whom
4 Michael Williams and T.B. Tomlinson comment on Elinor's assessment of Mr P a l m . Williams
sees it as both a manifestation of Elinor's growth and pmof that Elinor is not always Austen's surrogate ( J a w A m : Sir Novels and Their Methods [Houndmills, Basingstoke: Macmillan, 19861,
pp. 4142); Tomlinson connects it to the dark vision of the novel, a vision which sees negative Uaits "permanently embedded in human namre" (The English Middle-Ckw N o d [Landon:
Macmillan, 19761. p. 44). While I do not disagree with these views, they omit what I believe Austen wants re&
to omit: an awareness of the way in which men escape castigation
in this novel.
152 EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FICTION
she had never seen in her life" (p. 118). But rather than let the reader
dwell on the sensitivity and sense of a man who would so casually foist
house-guests on his wife, the narrative quickly jumps to the punishment
Sir John must suffer: "As it was impossible however now to prevent their
coming Lady Middleton resigned herself to the idea of it, with all the
philosophy of a well-bred woman, contenting herself with merely giving
her husband a gentle reprimand on the subject five or six times every
day" (p. 118). Male insensitivity is overshadowed by female anger, and
Sir John is made to seem the victim of a nagging, unreasonable wife.
Edward Ferrars and John Willoughby are the primary beneficiaries of
Austen's diversionary tactics. Edward, from the beginning, is presented as
the passive victim of monstrous women-his mother, his sister, and Lucy
Steele. The cold ambition of his family not only presses him towards a
mercenary marriage but also prevents him from doing anything with
his life. Their preference for "great men or barouches" is opposed to
his desire for "domestic comfort and the quiet of a private life" (p.
16). and in such a dichotomy there is no question about the right side.
Edward's participation in his aimless life and his willingness to blame
his mother and sister for it, however, are muted. Although he admits to
being unable to "resist the solicitations of his friends to do nothing" (p.
103), his passivity seems entirely admirable compared to their aggressive
exhortations to be "smart," "genteel," "dashing and expensive" (pp. 1023). Even his entanglement with Lucy he ascribes to his family. He falls
in love with her because "instead of having anything to do, instead of
having any profession chosen for me, or being allowed to chuse any
a home, moreover,
myself, I returned home to be completely idle''-to
that "my mother did not make ... in every respect comfortable" (p. 362).
Edward's lack of energy and agency is to be explained away by the
aggressive manipulations of others-of women.
Elinor's acceptance of Edward's view is a crucial moment in the tension in the novel. Elinor, like others, blames Mrs Ferrars for all that is
mysterious or disappointing in Edward (just as in Emma the inhabitants
of Highbury are eager to blame Mrs Churchill for Frank's inconsiderateness). She ascribes his coldness "to his mother's account; and it was
happy for her that he had a mother whose character was so imperfectly
known to her, as to be the general excuse for every thing strange on the
part of her son" (p. 101). Such conviction allows her to absolve Edward
and "to turn for comfort to the renewal of her confidence in Edward's affection" (p. 102), just as later she can be "consoled by the belief that
Edward had done nothing to forfeit her esteem" in becoming engaged to
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY 153
Lucy Steele (p. 141). Actually, Elinor offers more than forgiveness; she
turns away from her own sense of injury and betrayal and concentrates
on Edward's misery: "if he had injured her, bow much more had be injured himself; if her case were pitiable, his was hopeless. ... She wept
for him, more than for herself' (p. 140). She constructs, in effect, a hierarchy of victims and villains: Edward's "imprudence" has hurt him more
than it has her, and his is a venial sin compared to the evil machinations
of Mrs Ferrars and Lucy Steele.s
It seems to me clear that Austen does not expect the reader to accept
Elinor's reading as the definitive one. Indeed, there is sufficient irony
in the passages I have quoted to alert us to Elinor's evasions. But the
discovery and discussion of Elinor's disingenuousness is, in fact, yet
another red herring, more subtle and more successful than Elinor's own
wishful excuses. If we expend sufficient energy and acuity in analysing
and exposing Elinor's self-deluding justifications, we are the more likely
to be diverted from remembering that Edward has in fact contracted an
engagement which he is too weak to fulfil or to repudiate, and that he
has, while thus encumbered, raised expectations in another woman. If
Austen can shift the emphasis from the man's external inconsistencies
to the woman's internal contradictions, she can avoid the condemnation
or at least the profound doubts that his behaviour might elicit6
Rather than examining Elinor's blind spot about Edward or her eventual sympathy for Willoughby, both of which have attracted the attention
5 Critics have been understandably uncertain and unhelpful in their assessmnts of Edward Fenam.
Howard Babb is one of the more sympathetic readers when he says that Edward exhibits "only
his self-distrust. not any doubts about the v i m m he holds in view" ( p. 64). W.A. Craik no- that
Austen has lo " k q him in the background" because a "man situated between two women as he
is situated between Lucy and Elinor can hardly avoid Looking ineffectual. if nm ridiculous" ( J a m
Aufen: The Sir Nowls [London: Methuen. 1%5], p. 42). but she docs not examine Ausren's
reasons for putting Edward in such a sihlation. Mudrick's language shows his distrust of Austen's
strategy: 'The shadow of Mrs. F a m falls early ... the o p s s herself does not appear until her
malevolence has been well established. When she appears at Lasr sbe is ready in all her illnature to devour Elirmr for her presumptuous attitude toward Edward" (pp. 69-70). He does not,
however, make explicit that his language criticizes a paranoid. almost hysterical attitude toward a
powerful woman. M d n Rice links s m g y and ideology when he says. "Mn. Fern' fantasies
are recognized as her reality ... since h a will is almost matched by her power: and the narrative
quietly accepts her vision, by a method that is akin to free indirect discourse" ( F o m of Life:
Character and Moral Imgiwtion in the Novel [New Haven: Yale University Press, 19831, p.
71). and he t w does not question the reasons for such quiet acceptawe.
6 Austen is generally successful in her attempt lo deflect attention away from Edward. See, for
example. Zelda Boyd's 'The Language of Supposing: Modal Auxiliaries in Senre and Senribility"
in /me Austen: New Perspectives (p. 147). One of the few readen who r e m s agency and focus
to Edward is Jane Miller. who savs "He can let himself be maniaulated bv
~,
his rich motherand
~he
~can ~ e l lIlc?. He I S wll acceptnbie lo 'lmo? (Women Wnnng about Men [New York: Wnthcon
Books. 19861. p 631.Her insight, coded m her r y n m ("he can let himulf'). shps pas1 Aunen's
Juublr defence-Wuard's pasUvlty and kltnor's d~fficulocs
.
~
~~~
~~~
~
~~
154 E I G H T E E N T H - C E N T U R Y FICTION
of others,' I want to look at some connections between Edward and
Willoughby less frequently discussed, and the ways in which Austen
evades commentary on crucial aspects of Willoughby's confessional
narrative.
Mrs Dashwood, it turns out, was partially correct in ascribing Willoughby's precipitate departure from Barton to Mrs Smith. She has indeed
"exercised the privilege of riches upon a poor dependant cousin" (p.
75). But, as we learn later, this is not because of a suspected engagement with Marianne but rather because of his seduction and abandonment
of Eliza Williams. While moral Mrs Smith is no mercenary Mrs Ferrars,
the profound distinction is blurred in the text, left without ~ o m m e n t . ~
Willoughby's own account of the confrontation reveals a great deal about
him. He tells Elinor:
The purity of her life, the formality of her notions, her ignorance of the worldevery thing was against me. ... She was previously disposed, I believe, to doubt
the morality of my conduct in general, and was moreover discontented with the
very little attention, the very little portion of my time that I had bestowed upon
her, in my present visit. ... By one measure I might have saved myself. In the
height of her morality, good woman! she offered to forgive the past, if I would
many Eliza. That could not b e p . 323)
The pejorative tone he uses to describe Mrs Smith's morality is left unchallenged by both Elinor and narrator, made irrelevant by the wonder
of this man's willingess to speak openly and emotionally, to reveal "my
whole heart to you" (p. 319). Such a spectacle of male candour and introspection clearly seems to deserve some reward-the reward of glossing
over his actual behaviour and its effect on others. Both Elinor and
Austen seem to replicate the response of Sir John Middleton, that "goodnatured, honest, stupid soul" whose "heart was softened in seeing mine
[Willoughby's] suffer" (p. 330). Willoughby is granted the same dispensation that Edward gets: because he is visibly miserable, the misery he
7 See, for example, Susan Morgan on Elinor's imaginative sympathy for Willoughby (In the
MeMn'm: ChnrMcr ond Perception in Jane Austen's Fiction [Chicago: University of Chicago
Ress, 19801. p. 131). and Rice on Elinor's "reflux of pity" (p. 83). Among those who focus
on the contradictions in the scene an Mudrick (p. 85); Kenneth Mokr (Jone Austen's A n of
Allusion [Lincoln: University of Ncbmka Pnss, 19681, p. 72); and Poovey (pp. 186-87). Babb
is a wtable exception, and, s i g n i f i d y , is smngly anti-Willoughby.
8 Michael Williams seems to e n d m Willoughby's version of his situation when he says that in
some ways Edward and Willoughby an 'bluntly and consistently matched, right down to the
fact rhat bmh depend for their formnes on the whim of an elderly and irascible female relative"
(p. 32). This kind of collapsing of distinction is due. I believe, ta Austen's deliberate omission
of narmtivc CommenIaIy.
S E N S E AND S E N S I B I L I T Y 155
causes others is less harshly judged. Marianne, on the other hand, earns
no such grace; her overpowering grief is perceived as self-indulgent in
part because she makes others aware of it.
Oddly, the text never questions why Willoughby's marrying Eliza
"could not be." Presumably, Mrs Smith's forgiveness would include continued financial support, so the hindrance cannot be fear of poverty.
Eliza's illegitimacy is certainly a factor, but her situation, unlike Harriet Smith's, seems not to be generally known (Brandon's story tells us
that there is speculation, but no certainty about her), and Mrs Smith's
support is a step towards general acceptance. In the absence of other
compelling justifications, one is forced back to the notion that a fallen
woman is no proper match for a gentleman. Elinor, though she condemns
Willoughby's "indifference" and "cruel neglect" of Eliza (p. 322). at no
time endorses Mrs Smith's position. Even Colonel Brandon, who fights
a duel with Willoughby, does not suggest that Willoughby make reparation by marrying Eliza. Eliza's sin excludes her from society forever, and
Austen's silence about her fate assumes that her expulsion is necessary
and appropriate.
Such absolute exclusion contrasts with Austen's later treatment of
fallen women. Her contempt for Lydia Bennet, for example, does not
prevent her from allowing Lydia back into society-in fact, the narrative explicitly rejects Mr Collins's ungenerous view of "Christian
forgivene~s.'~
In MansJield Park Maria Rushworth is exiled, but her adultery ranks higher in the hierarchy of sexual crimes than Eliza's unchastity.
Moreover, Austen marks the contrast between Maria's "retirement and reproach, which could allow no second spring of hope or character"I0 and
Crawford's "vexation": "That punishment, the public punishment of disgrace, should in a just measure attend his share of the offence, is, we
know, not one of the barriers, which society gives to virtue. In this world,
the penalty is less equal than could be wished.""
Willoughby, like Edward, wants to shift responsibility from himself
to others-specifically, to the women who actively manipulate him. He
9 The Novels of Jane Aysfcn, U, 364.
10 The Novels of J-
Austen, 111, 449.
1 1 111, 468. Mruy Lasnlles has said that there is a 'Yfailun of power" wben Avsten has to dcal
with E l i d s story, and Ihm this failure has to do with Austen's decision to 'keep out of nach
of E l i d (Jonc Ausren md Her An [London: Orford Univwsity Ress, 1%3, reissue of 1934
edition], p. 73). Spacb. too, notes the distance betwen Ibe main plot and the Eliza harmtives
(p. 353). 1 believe that such distam'e has less to do with narrative skill rhan with Austen's
uncomfatsblc acceptance and perpetuation of an ideology that unequally punishes male and
female misconduct.
156 EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FICTION
urges Elinor to remember that Eliza is not without guilt, that he is in
part victimized by "the violence of her passions" (p. 322). He blames
the "unlucky circumstance" (p. 321) of exposure and the unreasonable
morality of Mrs Smith for his failure to propose to Marianne. Finally, he
is able to slough off responsibility for what Elinor considers his cruellest
act-the "infamous letter" to Marianne (p. 325). The vulgar cruelty of
the letter tums out to be his wife's. As Willoughby tells Elinor, "I had
only the credit of servilely copying such sentiments as I was ashamed to
put my name to. The original was all her own-her own happy thoughts
and gentle diction" (p. 328). Poor Willoughby! So reduced, so unmanned
by a shrewish woman that even the capacity to write his own story is
taken away. Sophia Grey's "passion-her malice ... must be appeased"
(p. 321), and appeased by Willoughby's complete capitulation to her
will; she will write a character for him, will be like a novelist creating a
villain. Willoughby is so powerless in the face of Sophia's "ingratiating
virulence" that he must cede both words and memories-he is "forced"
to give up "the last relics of Marianne. Her three notes ... the lock of
hair ... all, every memento was tom from me" (p. 329). The towering
potency of Sophia extenuates Willoughby's behaviour and saves him
from identification as a villain.
To some extent, Marianne joins this trio of powerful women who
manipulate Willoughby. In order to rehabilitate him (even partially), the
narrative must censure her. She is chastised by Elinor, by the narrator,
and by some readers for creating a false relationship and a false image
of W i l l ~ u g h b y .Like
~ ~ Emma, she has tried to be a controlling artistfigure, and we are allowed to feel that Willoughby has merely gone
along with her authoritative characterization of their romance. He is led
by her taste and her emphatic opinions-"If any difference appeared ...
it lasted no longer than till the force of her arguments and the brightness
of her eyes could be displayed" (p. 47). Even their intimacy derives from
Marianne's agency: as Willoughby tells Elinor, ''To have resisted such
attractions, to have withstood such tenderness!-Is there a man on earth
who could have done it!-Yes, I found myself, by insensible degrees,
sincerely fond of her" (p. 321). Willoughby's language here describes
his sense of being a passive, even resisting, partner (who generalizes in
order to distance himself-"Is there a man on earth"), and the narrative
allows his language to stand without challenge. (In Pride and Prejudice,
12 See Stuart M. Tave, Some Words of Jane Amfen (Chicago: Universily of Chicago Press, 1973),
p. 84. Cf. Kaplan, p. 543.
S E N S E A N D S E N S I B I L I T Y 157
Darcy's similar sense of being trapped by Elizabeth's attractions is, on the
contrary, explicitly criticized.)" There are so many women who inscribe
their desires on Willoughby, who assert authority over him, that his own
desire, his very self, becomes muted and blurred.
In Sense and Sensibility women try to bend others to their willand often succeed. From Fanny Dashwood's manipulation of John to
Lucy Steele's seduction of Robert Ferrars, we see women exerting
power, sometimes directly and sometimes covertly. This novel seems to
belie Spacks's contention that in eighteenth-century fiction "Women who
openly express aggression, who make apparent their desire to control the
behavior of others, occasionally achieve short-term success, but always
fail in the long run."" Those who succeed in this narrative are, however,
punished by the narrator. No other novel by Austen is so replete with demonic, wilful women. The destructive egoism of Fanny Dashwood, Lady
Middleton, Lucy Steele, Mrs Ferrars, and Sophia Grey makes abundantly
clear what sort of woman seeks authority and tries to make the world
conform to her image of it. No woman in her right mind would take
as a model the imperious or designing women who achieve success in
Sense and Sensibility; if feminine power is linked to these characteristics, women and men do right to keep women unempowered, marginal,
silent.
But this position presents a problem for Austen the writer: how can
she, in novel after novel, keep inscribing her own desires? How can she
manipulate characters and readers if to do so connects her with the monstrous women she has depicted? I do not think Austen finds a solution in
Sense and Sensibility; rather, it seems to me that she constructs a careful
vindication and criticism of the right-thinking authoritative woman by
projecting authorial anxieties onto the figure of Elinor Dashwood.
13 The Novels of Jonc Austen, It, 190. Judith Wilt picks up Willoughby's language when she says:
'The genuine love of a woman who believes herself m he genuinely loved is irresistible. and
creates its counterpan. This is a kind of tentative 'embodiment' for Willougby and he values it.
Tearing Marianne out of his hean to go back to his plan to many wealth and station is exquisite
pain for him" ("Jane Austen's Men: InsideIOutside ' h e Mystery"' in Men by Womm, ed. lanet
Todd. Women ond litemture, n.s. 2 [New York: Holmes and Meier. 19811. 69). Wilt replicates
Willoughby's own interpretation of his experience: loving Marianne was a passive act, leaving
her an active one.
14 "Sisters" in Fener'd or Free? British Women Novelists 167&1815, ed. Mary Anne Schofield
and Cecilia Macheski (Athens: Ohio Universify Press. 1986) p. 139.
158 E I G H T E E N T H - C E N T U R Y F I C T I O N
Adrienne Rich has argued that a woman who succeeds in a patriarchal society is often appropriated by its values, so that she becomes caught up
in her own specialness and thereby becomes indifferent to the lives of
women who have not joined the fratemity.lJ Among such chosen women
there occurs a loss of imagination, an inability to conceptualize and problematize the lives of their less fortunate sisters. In Sense and Sensibility
this phenomenon declares itself in the narrator's silence about a number
of lives: the loneliness of Mrs Smith who grants "voluntary forgiveness" (p. 367) to Willoughby, or of MIS Ferrars to whom Lucy becomes
"as necessary ... as either Robert or Fanny" (p. 365); the disappointment of Sophia Willoughby, married to a man who values her only for
her money and who abandons her shortly after marriage in order to seek
Marianne's forgiveness; the helpless anger of Lucy Steele, always on
the watch to improve her social position, always required to be servile
and insincere in order to be accepted.16 It may seem irrelevant or even
stubbornly wrongheaded to demand interiority in relatively minor characters (this is not, after all, Middlemarch), but such consistent suppression
of the inner lives of aggressive women argues an urgent desire to distance narrative authority from the authority claimed by aggressive female
characters.
A much safer place to situate feminine authority is in the figure of
Elinor, who seems to have the narrator's unqualified sympathy. The sympathy derives in part from her role as victim-as Kaplan puts it, "For
Austen, authority belongs to the self-consciously powerless."17 Moreover,
15 'The Antifeminist Woman" in On Lies. Secnts, and Silence: Sclmed Prose 19661978 (New
Yo* W.W. Nomn. 1979) pp. 82183. Efhoing Rich. Gloria Steinem confesses her o m pride in
cricking the male code: "This is the most mgic punishment that society inflicts on any secondclass group. Ultimately the brainwashing works, and we oulselves come to believe our group is
inferior. Even if we achieve a link success in the world and rhink of wrselves as 'different,'
we don't want to associate with our group. We want to identify up, not down" ("Sisarhwd" in
Outrageous Acts and Ew'yday Rebelllow [New Yo* New American Library, 19861, p. 131).
16 Babb astotely sums up the conflict in Lucy, who "is convinced in her h e m Ulat she is the equal
of anyone and jealously guards her success with Edward as a token of her value. But she also
recognizes that saciety regards her as an infcrio? (p. 70). But such interiority has to be teased
out of a text which wants U, keep Lucy ideologically funr'tional. As Poovey points out, 'The
harshness with which Austen disposes of Lucy Steele exceeds the necessities of t
k plot, but
it is perfectly in keeping with her moral design. ... A u s m wants to convince the reader that
female n a w e is simply inexplicable and that propriety must restrain this natural, amoral force"
(P. 190).
17 Kaplan, p. 547.
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY 159
Elinor's claims to authority are similar to those of her creator-a clear
eye and a lively sense of the realities of life. But Austen finds ways to
subvert the authority of this admirable heroine. She shows that Elinor's
propriety sometimes veils sarcasm and contempt for others, and that
what lurks behind her sarcasm is painful resentment at feeling marginalized. If Elinor's pain and frustration save her from being a prig, they also
make her susceptible to diagnostic readings, which in hlm undermine her
authority.
Elinor reserves most of her sarcasm for Marianne and Willoughby,
taking pleasure in deflating their romantic excesses. When, for example,
Willoughby waxes sentimental about the perfections of Barton Cottage,
Elinor replies "I flatter myself ... that even under the disadvantage of
better rooms and a broader staircase, you will hereafter find your own
house as faultless as you now do this" (p. 73). And when Marianne
is transported by a vision of Norland in autumn, Elinor drily comments: "It is not e v e q one ... who has your passion for dead leaves"
(p. 88). Now certainly the self-indulgence and measure of hypocrisy in
Willoughby and Marianne's rhapsodizing are irritating, but they hardly
seem to call for such blighting ripostes. In Elinor's swift critical responses we see a version of the hasty, unvarnished irritation of "large fat
sighings."18 The novelist's own impatience with unseemly displays of sentimentality, treated with self-conscious lightness in Northanger Abbey, is
here projected onto Elinor.
If Mariame replicates novelistic activity in her conshuction of a romance hero, Elinor exhibits a different kind of authorial practice: observation and analysis. Like her creator, she is better at dissecting behaviour
than at contriving an exciting plot. Moreover, like a novelist she shares
her observations, sometimes in ways that defy propriety. Inserting herself into a conversation between Marianne and Edward, she takes pleasure
in showing how Marianne's stated indifference to wealth masks expectations of a high income. When Edward seems to approve of Marianne's
gaiety, Elinor leaps in with a corrective version: "I should hardly call her
a lively girl-she is very earnest, very eager in all she does-sometimes
talks a great deal and always with animation-but she is not often really meny" (p. 93). To Colonel Brandon's appreciation of Marianne's
"amiable prejudices," Elinor opposes a critical view: "There are inconveniences attending such feelings as Marianne's, which all the charms
of enthusiasm and ignorance of the world cannot atone for. Her systems
18 Persuasion (The Novelr of Jone Amten,
V), p. 68
I60 E I G H T E E N T H - C E N T U R Y FICTION
have all the unfortunate tendency of setting propriety at naught"(p. 56).
The reader, in spite of the narrator's silence here, might question the propriety of Elinor's propensity to provide hostile analysis of her sister. It
may be appropriate to note the errors and deficiencies in those around us;
it is a much more problematic, even dangerous proposition to make them
the subject of public discourse-in conversations or in novels. The risk
that Elinor takes in making public her observations and evaluations neatly
replicates the danger facing the female writer: the reader may find her accurate, perceptive, even witty, but at the same time consider her crabbed,
unlikeable, unfeminine.19
To rescue Elinor from this precarious place, the narrative turns not to
an indisputable system of ethics but to the typically novelistic strategy
of examining motivation and feeling. Austen knows, to use Bakhtin's
phrase, that "images of official-authoritative truth ... have never been
successful in the n o ~ e l . "She
~ therefore moves to the discourse of psychology and invites us to locate the source of Elinor's desire for authority;
and we discover that Elinor's calm superiority conceals a profound sense
of frustration. Her amused contempt for the behaviour of Mrs Fenars
and Fanny, her claim that "it was not in Mrs. Ferrars's power to distress her," masks the double pain of losing Edward and being "pointedly
slighted" by his family (pp. 232-33). Her anger and disappointment express themselves indirectly, in a hostile (albeit accurate) assessment of
Mrs Ferrars and a grim determination to depress Lucy's sense of hiumph. (Even some of Elinor's repressive sarcasm towards Marianne can
be ascribed to her disappointment in Edward. Willoughby and Marianne's
open devotion to each other throws into higher relief Edward's "coldness
and reserve" [p. 891, and the pain of such a contrast can find consolation in censorious judgments about the propriety of public displays of
affection.)
Balked expectations regarding Edward merely add to a well-established
sense of frustration. The demon that drives Elinor, that leads her to embrace rigid self-control and to judge others, is the knowledge that in her
own family her superiority is generally unacknowledged and her authority
19 In his recent biography Park Honan accurately characterizes the dilemma facing the fledgling
writer: "Nobody on ward has risked mom than Jane Austen when she sought a 'voice' with
which to address he public. She simply had to m s t that the Austens would find her agreeable
and sisterly despite her polished jokes and knowing W (Jam Austen: Her Life [New Yo&
St Manin's Ress. 19871. p. 94). Some of her tmubled hopes are unmistakably inscribed in the
character of Elinor.
20 M.M. Bakhtin, The Dialogic Imginntion: Four Essays. I n n s . Caryl Emerson and Michael
Holquist. ed. Michael Holquist (Austin: Univmity of Texas Press, 1981). p. 344.
S E N S E A N D S E N S I B I L I T Y 161
consistently denied. Painfully aware that Marianne will brook no interference or even inquiry from her, she resorts to indirect supervision-spying
on Marianne and urging Mrs Dashwood to exert the authority denied to
herself. But Marianne insists on a "privacy which eluded all her watchfulness" (p. 167) and Mrs Dashwood refuses to follow Elinor's sensible
advice, so Elinor can only pass judgment: "common sense, common care,
common prudence, were all sunk in Mrs. Dashwood's romantic delicacy"
(p. 85). Elinor's irritability here expresses more than specific disappointment; it results from a long experience of being marginalized in her own
family. Elinor may prevail in the matter of deciding upon the number
of servants to take to Barton, but in more important areas, she is ignored. Mrs Dashwood, valuing Marianne's "young and ardent mind" (p.
54) more than Elinor's prudence and propensity to "doubt where you
can" (p. 78), does not disguise her preference; as Elinor knows, "Whatever Marianne was desirous of, her mother would be eager to promoteshe could not expect to influence the latter" (p. 155). Maternal energies in the Dashwood family are firmly centred on Marianne, to the
extent that Elinor seems absent from her mother's consciousness. There is
something undeniably pathetic in Elinor's early sense of exclusion from
shared family grief; she tells Marianne that Edward "and I have been
at times thrown a good deal together, while you have been wholly engrossed on the most affectionate principle by my mother" (p. 20). There
is pathos as well as bitterness when she later witnesses Mrs Dashwood's
identification with Marianne:
Marianne continued to mend every day, and the brilliant cheerfulness of Mrs
Dashwood's looks and spirits pmved her to be, as she repeatedly declared
herself, one of the happiest women in the world. Eliior could not hear the declaration, nor witness its proofs without sometimes wondering whether her mother
ever recollected Edward. But Mrs Dashwood, tlusting to the temperate account
of her own disappointment which Elinor had sent her, was led away by the
exuberance of her joy to think only of what would increase it. (p. 335)
This passage precisely describes Elinor's dilemma. Because she does
not express her grief, she is denied the consolation, the attention that she
deserves. Instead of being admired for her fortitude, instead of having
others look beneath the placid surface, she is ignored. Her continuing
composure in the face of such indifference can be interpreted in the
context of an absolute system of ethics, as Elinor herself wants to see
it-in explaining her calmness, she uses unemotional, legalistic language:
162 EIOHTEENTH-CENTURY FICTION
"duty," "owed," "betraying," "acquit" (pp. 26243).11But it is a defence
and a punishment. It allows Elinor to retreat from her own pain to a po-
sition of judgment on others. At times the gains are direct and obvious;
confronted with Elinor's stoicism, Marianne can only "hate myself for
ever," enabling Elinor to obtain "from her whatever promise she required" (p. 264). At other times Elinor wins a much more indirect and
painful victory. Right after the paragraph quoted above, she finds herself
alone with her mother, who promptly embarks on a recital of Marianne's
happy prospects. Balked of an opportunity to discuss her own situation,
and denied commendation for having had doubts about Willoughby, she
can take comfort in noting her mother's foolishness. When Mrs Dashwood describes Colonel Brandon's feelings, "Elinor perceived,-not the
language, not the professions of Colonel Brandon, but the natural embellishments of her mother's active fancy, which fashioned every thing
delightful to her, as it chose" (p. 336). In this dialogue Mrs Dashwood seems much more foolish and self-centred than she has before;
her claim that "There was always a something,-if you remember,in Willoughby's eyes at times, which I did not like" (p. 338) is a piece
of egregious self-deception worthy of Mrs Bennet. Elinor's silent criticism of her mother is her revenge for the way in which her feelings and
opinions have been discounted. Dialogue and evaluation work together,
one to alter a previously sympathetic character, the other to reject the
belittled version.
However justified Elinor may be in her opinions, however much evidence the narrator gives us on her behalf, we cannot overlook the painful
feelings that precede the judgments. To be right in one's judgments is
not to be free of anguish or even of prejudice. Nor is judging a particularly enabling activity. Rather, the process of judging at all, of situating
oneself in a place of authority, is open to critical scrutiny. In Elinor Dashwood, Austen seems to have inscribed a set of doubtful motives and
strategies that undermine her right to authority. Elinor is subjected to a
diagnostic reading: there are so many clues about her disappointments,
her thwarted desire for influence, her anger at those who ignore or trivialize her pain, that the reader must interpret rather than accept her view
of the world. This is not to claim that Austen does not agree with Elinor's
21 Ian Fcrgus endorses the ideological absolute when she says that "Austen insists ... that the
consideration and self-command Elinor shows are not any the less required of her for being
invariably misundentcad and unnwardcd. They remain, absolutely and imperatively, an obligation" (p. 41). Such a view maIches the confidence of Elinor's pmnauncemenfs, but it disallows
discussion of mativation or even of psychic saIisfactions gained by proper behaviour.
SENSE A N D SENSIBILITY 163
assessments, does not identify with her values and evaluations. On the
contrary, she is only too self-consciously aware that Elinor's problems
mirror her own. The lack of imaginative empathy for aggressive women,
the tendency to be critically observant and censorious, the desire to voice
opinions and have them taken seriously are problems that confront the author as well as the heroine of Sense and Sensibility. The "double-voiced
discourse" in this novel is not a device to distance character from author but rather to encode a female author's difficulties about her own
desire for authority. Fat from showing how "the writing subject cancels
out the signs of his particular individuality,"ZZ Sense and Sensibility displays the writing subject's struggles with authorship. These struggles can
have no happy ending, which is perhaps why so many readers have detected a note of dysphoria at the conclusion of the novel. If female desire
for a voice can be expressed only pathologically-by enslaving men or by
adhering to rigid codes that perpetuate patriarchal power while they repress pain-then it is forever trapped. The best a woman writer can do
is to describe her dilemma in a work that offers no solutions. In an act
of courage as well as of despair, that is what Jane Austen does in Sense
and Sensibility.
George Washington University
22 Michel Foucault. The Foucault Reader, ed. Paul Ribinow (New York: Wntheon Boob. 1984)
pp. 102-3. Austen's problematic relationship to her text resembles that of earlier woman writers.
1800 (New Yo*
Janet Todd in The Sign of Angellico: Women, Writing. and Fiction 1Columbia University Ress. 1989) points out that "In the story of women's fiction, the relation of
author to authorial image and to creations will vary exmmely but it will never achieve the clarity
of men's relation to their ideas and creations. patented, signed and alienated from themselves"
(p. 9). Ausvn anticipates what Margaret Homans describes as the swtegy of nineteenth-century
women writers: "by writing novels that represent Ihc position of women in societies that do not
accommodate their needs, these a u t h m thematire the position of women's language in a cultun
that does not admit it" (Bearing the Word: Dmguage and Fernole Ehperienee in NinetrenthCenrury Women's Writing [ C h i o : University of C h i c a p Press. 19861, p. 20). For a diseussim
of Austen's sense of margtnality in her family. see John Halperin. The life of Jane Aurten
(Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. 1984). especially pp. 2 1 S 1 9 and 237-38.