26 Self-Knowledge and Sincerity in Northanger Abbey, Pride and Prejudice, and Mansfield Park Mackenzie Gilmore At the end of Mansfield Park, Edmund Bertram—an aspiring clergyman and a man of religious faith—states that “the most valuable knowledge…[is] the knowledge of ourselves and of our duty” (473). Theorists Kenneth L. Moler and Lionel Trilling both argue that the search for self-knowledge—particularly in the evolving social landscape of Austen’s time—is a theme through which Austen’s novels can be understood. Moreover, Austen’s theme of self-knowledge is connected to her Christian beliefs, revolving around a morality reminiscent of the Bible verse, “how blessed is the man to whom the Lord does not impute iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit!” (Psalm 32:2) This is particularly the case in Northanger Abbey, Pride and Prejudice, and Mansfield Park, where the heroines—as is typical of the bildungsroman—develop towards greater self-knowledge. This self-knowledge is aided by the mentor-mentee relationship between the heroines (Catherine, Fanny, and Elizabeth) and their respective love interests: Henry, Edmund, and Mr. Darcy (who either enact or symbolically represent the Christian values). Inherently associated with self-knowledge is the Christian value of sincerity both with oneself and with others; Lionel Trilling, in Sincerity and Authenticity, provides a historical and semantic interrogation of the eponymous traits, grounding them in the context of Austen’s novels. Catherine, Fanny, and Elizabeth are all sincere characters, and a reoccurring motif in Austen’s novels is to reward characters that make sacrifices in the present for the sake of sincerity. In both Pride and Prejudice and Mansfield Park, sincerity is the crux of a successful romance and is foregrounded in moments of rejected marriage proposals. While Austen’s heroines pursue self- knowledge in a distinctly Christian, sincere fashion, they are contrasted by various foil characters 27 in the novels who, to their own ultimate detriment, disavow sincerity and whose self-knowledge is impeded by their reliance on materialist, class-based superficiality (reinforcing the moralism present in Austen’s novels). While Catherine, Fanny, and Elizabeth all begin as immature or incomplete characters, their actions, though often naïve, strive towards self-knowledge, aided by the direct and indirect mentorship of their love interests. Lionel Trilling describes self-knowledge as a theme that pervades Austen’s work in his essay Emma, where he states, “Jane Austen is the first truly modern novelist of England” because of her awareness of the “psychological burden of the individual” and the “need to make private judgments of reality” (56). The modern onus on the individual to make private judgments about reality is foregrounded in Northanger Abbey, with the sincere-but-naïve Catherine. Catherine’s mentor and romantic partner, Henry, encourages the development of self-knowledge by teaching her to judge the social landscape. His mentorship is represented metaphorically in his lesson on the picturesque at Beechen Cliff, where his didactic explanation “of foregrounds, distances, and second distances – side-screens and perspectives – lights and shades” (107) addresses the nuances of sociality. Another analogy Henry makes regarding sociality is between dancing and marriage, stating “fidelity and complaisance are the principle duties of both; and those men who do not choose to dance or marry themselves, have no business with the partners or wives of their neighbors” (74). Henry also admonishes her application of Gothic tropes onto reality through parody and confrontation, culminating in his reproach of her assumptions regarding his father, stating, “Dear Miss Morland, consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions you have entertained. What have you been judging from?” (186) While Henry is criticizing Catherine’s misapprehension of reality, he is also acknowledging her incongruence—or insincerity—in light 28 of her personal and repressed judgment regarding his father. Ultimately, through acknowledgement of her misapprehension, he corrects the Janus-faced nature of her private and public beliefs. Henry’s benevolent role as a mentor is further signified by his vocation as a parson. Similarly, Catherine’s moral purity and malleability is signified by her status as a parson’s daughter. At the novel’s beginning, Catherine’s purity—characterized by the narrator as “a look of wondering ignorance” (111)—manifests itself in naiveté, assuming everyone’s intentions are as sincere as her own, which is particularly troublesome with the duplicitous Isabella. Ultimately, Henry teaches Catherine to judge with nuance, concluding with her recognition that people possess an “unequal mixture of good and bad” (188). This same dynamic is echoed in Mansfield Park where the passive Fanny is mentored by her cousin, and parson-in-training, Edmund. While Fanny is excessively meek, she is far less naïve than Catherine and her conservative, moralistic values are both in her nature and aided by Edmund (as is also the case with her relatively astute judgments of other’s character). Edmund’s own sincerity presumably allowed the trait to flourish to a greater extent in Fanny under his mentorship, as is evident when Edmund discusses his pastoral vocation as his “duty to teach and recommend [conduct],” which Fanny sincerely agrees with in “gentle earnestness” (96). In Pride and Prejudice, the mentor-mentee relation—relative to the other two novels—is a horizontal rather than top-down dynamic, with self-knowledge coming as a result of the dialectical tension between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth, a far more active protagonist, begins as a staunch individualist who possesses a hubristic sense of her ability to judge the social landscape, but over the course of the novel, she develops towards relinquishing her prejudice towards Mr. Darcy’s shy and arrogant comportment. While Mr. Darcy is not as symbolically representative of Christianity as the parsons Henry and Edmund are, his distinctly Christian traits 29 starkly contrast with the superficiality of the novel’s inept parson, and Elizabeth’s other suitor, Mr. Collins. This contrast demonstrates that sincerity rather than title makes someone a worthy Christian mentor. Even Wickham, who attempts to manipulate Elizabeth’s opinion of Darcy, concedes that he is “liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honorable, and perhaps agreeable” (73) – an exhaustive list of traits that characterize, or at least gesture to, Darcy’s embodiment of the Christian ideal. While self-knowledge is developed by these mentor relationships, it is the characters’ respective sincerity or insincerity that determines their ultimate fate. In Lionel Trilling's Sincerity and Authenticity, he differentiates the two titular terms historically and semantically. He defines sincerity as the “congruence between avowal and actual feeling” (2), using Polonius’ line from William Shakespeare’s Hamlet — “this above all: to thine own self be true and it doth follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man” (3)—as a literary example. Trilling distinguishes authenticity—being true to oneself—as having historically usurped sincerity as the predominant value, arguing that sincerity is interpersonal whereas authenticity is individualistic (sincerity being more apt for analyzing Austen’s texts because they navigate interpersonal relations and societal roles) (11-12). The paramount status of sincerity, in both Mansfield Park and Pride and Prejudice, is foregrounded at the crux of their romantic plots, in moments of rejected proposals, and as a topic of profound meditation—or moment of grace—for their respective heroines. While sincerity is a foregrounded theme in Northanger Abbey, it is made most conspicuous through insincere characters like John and Isabella Thorpe. Gary Kelly in “Religion and Politics” asserts that Austen’s active protagonists tend to be affected by “grace” (seemingly divine, spontaneous self-realization) in a moment of humility and realization (163). Elizabeth’s moment of grace occurs when she re-reads Mr. Darcy’s letter, 30 bemoaning, “I, who have prided myself on my discernment...till this moment I never knew myself” (185) – an admission of excessive pride and deficiency of self-knowledge. Upon this realization, Elizabeth properly discerns the sincerity and goodwill behind Mr. Darcy’s previously infuriating letter, stating, “Mr. Darcy’s explanation there had appeared very insufficient…[but] widely different was the effect of a second perusal” (185). This personal revelation equates the reading of a letter to the reading of people, suggesting that unjust presuppositions—particularly those founded on a lack of self-knowledge—influence interpretation. Mr. Darcy epitomizes how sincerity is a virtue rewarded in Austen’s novels. For example, despite emphasizing Elizabeth’s “inferiority” because of “family obstacles which judgment had always opposed to inclination” (168) (a harsh yet honest truth) it is this brutal honesty that differentiates him from Wickham’s falsities, and serves as the crux for his eventual relationship with Elizabeth. Therefore, what Darcy lacks in decorum, he compensates for by way of sincerity. Sincerity also becomes focalized when Elizabeth must reject Mr. Collins’ marriage proposal despite the high-degree of material gain it promises and social pressure to accept it. The language Elizabeth uses when rejecting Mr. Collins’ proposal echoes Trilling’s