Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Marriage and the Inheritance

Home , Colonel Brandon, Edward Ferrars

Social Conservatism in Austen and Ferrier Matrimony and Class in Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Marriage and The Inheritance

Word count: 26,722

Jessica Vandevoorde Student number: 01400152

Supervisor: Dr. Koenraad Claes

A dissertation submitted to Ghent University in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Linguistics and Literature Dutch - English

Academic year: 2017 – 2018

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my supervisor, Dr. Koenraad Claes, for his enthusiasm, support and feedback. He was always willing to arrange a meeting to discuss the thesis, he answered promptly to my inquiries and steered me back into the right direction when necessary. I am sincerely grateful to have him as my supervisor. I also want to express my gratitude towards my parents who have always believed in me. A well- meant thank you to my mom for the sweet notes and for her hugs. A sincere thank you to my dad for supporting me when I was feeling down and for making sure that I regularly got away from my laptop and the thesis, even if that meant he had to bribe me with ice cream. I am very grateful to my boyfriend Florian for his endless support, for staying up late with me and for making sure that I took enough breaks from work by distracting me with his two adorable cats. I could never have done this without him. I am also in debt to Florian’s parents, An and Renaat, who always have my back. I will never forget what they have done for me during those four years at Ghent University. Going to them feels like going to my second home. I am glad that I could spend many hours of thesis-writing over there. Words cannot describe how grateful I am to have my closest friends Kelsey, Lisa, Lieselot, Emilie and Justine in my life. They have always tried to cheer me up when I was feeling down. Thank you for all your supportive messages and for believing in me. Also, special thanks to Lieselot for fangirling with me about Jane Austen and Colin Firth and thank you to Lisa for listening to all our fangirling. Lastly, I would like to thank my cousin Lindsey who, despite her busy schedule, found the time to proofread most of this thesis. She thought along with me, gave me tips to make my writing smoother and reminded me that I have to keep things simple.

Table of contents

1. Introduction ...... 1 2. Sense and Sensibility ...... 7 2.1. John Dashwood and Fanny Ferrars ...... 7 2.2. Edward Ferrars and Lucy Steele ...... 10 2.3. Edward Ferrars and Elinor Dashwood ...... 13 2.4. John Willoughby and Marianne Dashwood ...... 18 2.5. Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood ...... 21 3. Pride and Prejudice ...... 27 3.1. Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet ...... 28 3.2. William Collins and Charlotte Lucas ...... 31 3.3. George Wickham and Lydia Bennet ...... 34 3.4. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet ...... 40 4. Marriage ...... 45 4.1. Lady Juliana and Henry Douglas ...... 46 4.2. Adelaide Douglas and Lord Lindore ...... 52 4.3. Mary Douglas and Colonel Lennox ...... 55 5. The Inheritance ...... 61 5.1. Sarah Black and Thomas St. Clair ...... 62 5.2. Gertrude Lewiston and Edward Lyndsay ...... 68 6. Conclusion ...... 77 7. Bibliography ...... 81 Primary Works ...... 81 Secondary Works ...... 81 Appendix: Table Incomes Austen Characters ...... 85

Word count: 26,722

1. Introduction

During Austen’s and Ferrier’s lifetime, English and Scottish society was in flux. In the beginning of the seventeenth century, England consisted of small rural communities ruled by the hereditary members of the upper classes (Butler “Romantics” 101). In return for their power, those gentlemen and ladies had social responsibilities towards the people of the lower classes (Butler “Romantics” 101). They were thus supposed to set the moral tone (White 79). Gradually, however, all of that started to change from the mid-seventeenth century onwards when the landed gentry began to invest in agricultural improvements to make more profit from the land they owned. Those innovations involved, for instance, new tools and the introduction of crop rotation techniques (Quigley and Chalmers 25). To increase efficiency, a lot of common land was enclosed and thus became private property of the landlords (Quigley and Chalmers 25). It is said that by the end of the eighteenth century, three-quarters of the rural land was fenced off (Willard 886). That kind of commercialisation of agriculture had a large impact on the social order. On the whole society seemed to be better off, since an abundance of food was produced which kept the population fed (Butler “Romantics” 102). Besides that, the mass production and the selling of the products created further wealth (Butler “Romantics” 102). Nevertheless, the landlords’ attempt to improve their estates also led to a “widening gap between rich and poor” and the neglect of the old social obligations that the gentry had towards the poor (Butler “Romantics” 102). According to Butler, the incomes were “unevenly distributed” (“Romantics” 102). The landed gentry and their tenants gained much money, for the rents and farming profits nearly doubled (Butler “Romantics” 102). On the other hand, the poor faced even bigger struggles to sustain themselves. The system of enclosure had forced them off the lands that they used to farm free of charge (Ciment and Ness 64). Since they could not count on the support of wealthy landlords and the “technical advancements in farming [reduced] the need for peasant labour in the countryside”, many left for the cities in the search of employment (Ciment and Ness 64). Clearly, the former rural and cohesive communities were gradually falling apart. Following that, it is important to emphasise that the landed gentry’s investment in farming also led to another significant change in the social order. As mentioned, the agricultural improvements increased England’s commerce. This economical boost gave rise to a bourgeois middle class “geared to the maximisation of profit” (Evans 3). That brought England in the socioeconomic situation of entrepreneurial capitalism. Focussed on individualism, merchants, manufacturers and other middle- class people did everything in their power to improve their own situation in life. Eventually, many of them managed to earn as much money as some of the upper-class members (Heyck 50). As more and more middle-classers could purchase their own estate, they started to form a threat to the landed

1 genteel people, who could no longer distinguish themselves by means of their wealth and properties. Next to that, their growth in size and social significance started to damage the prestige and power of the hereditary upper classes. Ultimately, by the nineteenth century, the gentry and the aristocracy were in decline. Similar events took place in eighteenth-century Scotland. Before the Union with England in 17071, Scotland was “a small country of limited resources” (Walker 57). At the end of the seventeenth century, the Scottish economy suffered from “a series of harvest failures” and an unsuccessful attempt to set up a trade colony (Devine 37)2. It is, therefore, very likely that the hope of a brighter economical prospect was one of the motives of the Scots to enter the Union. England, on the other hand, probably liked the idea of a Kingdom of Great Britain because of the political and military benefits3. Despite the Jacobine rebellions shortly after the Treaty, the alliance between England and Scotland was consolidated4. A result of the Union was that Scotland gained “freedom of trade with England” and its colonial markets (Clark 290). That led to an increase in Scottish trade. Due to the lucrative commerce, several Scottish port cities, such as Glasgow and Edinburgh, flourished economically and grew substantially (Whyte 330). Successful trade also engendered innovation in agriculture. Just like in mid- seventeenth-century England, the aristocracy and the landed gentry started to invest in new rotations, breeds of livestock and the system of enclosure, which caused the former small-scale but independent farmers to become underpaid wage labourers (Whyte 148). Simultaneously, as in England, a Scottish capitalist middle class rose to compete with the hereditary upper classes.

1 The Union consisted of agreements between the Scots and the English in which it was stated that the Scots had to give up their independence, that they needed to pledge alliance to the English monarch and that their Parliament would be united with the English one. It is, however, important to emphasise that the Scots did not have to give up everything. They were, for instance, allowed to maintain their law and legal system (Powell 6). 2 Scotland started in 1698 a project, often called the “Darien Scheme”, “to establish a trading colony on the Ishtmus of Panama” (Wilkie 21). Unfortunately, Scotland’s colonial aspirations failed within two years as “the Darien settlement was beset with challenges” such as “poor leadership and equipment”, “disease” and “death” (Wilkie 22). Besides that, the situation was also hindered by the English who “refused to support the scheme” (Wilkie 22). They viewed this plan “as a threat to the English monopolies” (Wilkie 22). Consequently, the English colonies were not allowed to trade with the Scots or to “assist them in any way” (Wilkie 22). It is said that this English blockade was one of the key factors in the failure of the Darian scheme (Wilkie 22). 3 A first benefit for the English was that the Union made the Scots accept the Hanoverian succession (Clark 290). As Queen Anne, the last Stuart monarch, was left with no children, there would have been a good chance that the Scots put her half-brother James Francis Stuart, also known as “the Old Pretender” on the Scottish throne (Lehman 515). That would have ended a more personal union between England and Scotland, because the crowns of those two countries were already united “since 1603 when James VI of Scotland also became James I of England following the death of Queen Elizabeth I” (Lehman 515). A second advantage for England was that the Union took away a potential military threat. Due to the Treaty, European enemies of England, such as France and Spain, could not invade the country through Scotland (Chaurasia 115). 4 The Jacobites were against the Union because they wanted Scotland to be independent and longed to continue the rule of the Stuart dynasty (Cooke 48). They would thus have preferred to see James Francis Stuart on the Scottish throne (Cooke 48).

These social changes affected many people, including the English author Jane Austen (1775- 1817). She was born into the hereditary gentry, but did not belong to the wealthiest upper classes. Her parents, George Austen and Cassandra Leigh, were left with little money and no estate (Fergus 5). To provide for his wife and eight children, Mr. Austen worked as a clergyman (Fergus 3). Yet, his income was quite modest considering that he had so many mouths to feed. Looking at their economic situation, it is clear that Jane Austen and her closest relatives were part of the lesser gentry. As Terry Lovell (1978) points out, that position was not favourable:

[….] The lesser gentry, to which Jane Austen’s family belonged, was in a more exposed

position. A position from which the perception of a general threat to their class might be

perceived, from which the social and ideological differences between traditional rural society

and the new urban capitalist order would appear very great”. (Lovell quoted in Evans 4)

This anxiety towards the rise of capitalism and its influence on the community is often expressed by Austen in her novels (Butler “Romantics” 97). As Butler points out, it is tempting at first sight to regard Austen as, what is called in modern terminology, a progressive author, because of her satirical portrayal of the gentry (“Romantics” 108). This reading would be misleading, since these satirical sketches are more likely meant to show the harm done to her class by the new order (Butler “Romantics” 105). Butler’s view that Austen took up a conservative plot, rather than a progressive one, indeed seems more plausible. Austen wrote from a “position of insecurity” (Lovell quoted in Evans 4) and was defensive of the old social order, of which she considered herself to be a part of (Evans 3). Another author who was influenced by the changing social order was the Scottish novelist Susan Ferrier (1782-1854). She was born as the ninth child of a family of ten children (Yeo in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography). She belonged to Edinburgh’s upper-middle class (Sassi 67). Her parents were Helen Coutts, the daughter of a farmer, and James Ferrier who was originally a Writer to the Signet, which means that he was a Scottish solicitor (Yeo in the Oxford DNB). One of his most important clients was the fifth Duke of Argyll (Yeo in the Oxford DNB). With help of the latter, he later became a Principal Clerk to the Court of Session and a colleague of Sir Walter Scott (Yeo in the Oxford DNB). Due to her father’s contacts, Susan Ferrier became acquainted with members of the hereditary gentry and even with the aristocracy of Edinburgh. This close connection to the upper classes also implies that Ferrier could directly observe the impact of the changing social order on these ranks. Ferrier, like Austen, comments on those historical changes in her novels. Through her depiction of the

3 upper and middle classes, which is mostly based on real people she met in life (Yeo in the Oxford DNB), Ferrier gives her readers an idea of how she perceives capitalist society. It is thus clear that Austen and Ferrier witnessed a similar changing social order and both authors incorporated this into their novels. However, that is not the only reason why this paper will juxtapose these two authors. As it turns out, Ferrier was familiar with and very fond of Austen’s work. That is, for instance, illustrated in the following fragment of a letter that Ferrier wrote to a friend in which she praises Austen’s novel Emma (1815):

I have been reading ‘Emma,’ which is excellent; there is no story whatever, and the heroine is

not better than other people; but the characters are all so true to life, and the style so piquant,

that it does not require the adventitious aids of mystery and adventure. (Ferrier quoted in

Baker 97)

It has been argued that Ferrier found her inspiration in Austen’s novels (Tiryak 252). Consequently, these writers have often been compared to each other. Sir Walter Scott, a colleague of James Ferrier and a friend of his daughter, was the first to draw a parallel between the two authors:

Reading at intervals a novel called Granby, one of the class that aspire to describe the actual

current of society, whose colours are so evanescent, that it is difficult to fix them on the

canvass. It is well written, but overlaboured – too much attempt to put the reader exactly up

to the thoughts and sentiments of the parties. The women do this better: Edgeworth, Ferrier,

Austen, have all given portraits of real society, far superior to anything man, vain man, has

produced of the like nature. (Sir Walter Scott quoted in Lockhart 314)

According to Scott, Austen and Ferrier both produced pleasant narratives inspired by real-life domestic affairs. Apart from Sir Walter Scott, there are many others who have compared Ferrier to Austen. Paul Henderson Scott, for example, points out in his book The Age of Liberation (2008) that both novelists were occupied with the theme of marriage, since this was the only way for women to support themselves (58). He also states that they have the same “main strength” which is “their sharp eye for weaknesses of character and their ironic ability in the exposure of them” (P.H. Scott 59). Another parallel can be found in Marshall Walker’s book Scottish Literature Since 1707 (1996) in which he

argues that Ferrier’s novels deal with social satire, prejudice, sense and sensibility (205). These are all concepts that are clearly present in Austen’s novels as well. It is thus apparent that both Austen and Ferrier used similar topics, such as class relationships and marriage, to reflect on the social changes that were going on during their lifetime. It is also very likely that Ferrier took Austen’s views regarding this subject into account when she was writing, especially since she had read Austen’s novels and her books got published relatively shortly after those of her fellow novelist. Nevertheless, it has not yet been examined to what extent Austen and Ferrier shared the same opinion on that changing social order. To gain insight in both Austen’s and Ferrier’s stance towards the social and political changes of their time and to understand how these are portrayed in their narratives, this paper will compare two novels by each author. This research will consist of three components. Firstly, it will verify Butler’s argument that Austen was an adherent of the old social order by arguing that her conservative views are reflected in her characters’ love interests and marriages. Naturally, class will play an important role as well in this analysis. The focus will lay on Austen’s earliest novels Sense and Sensibility (1811) and Pride and Prejudice (1813), because those are written when English society was still transforming into a capitalist order (Butler “Romantics” 103). Austen’s first two novels highlight that, at that time, she still cherished the hope of re-establishing the old social order5. Secondly, this thesis will analyse which views on the changes in society can be derived from the matrimonial choices and romantic preferences of the characters in Ferrier’s Marriage (1818) and The Inheritance (1824). Those novels are selected because of similar reasons as those of Austen. Ferrier’s first two narratives mark that Scottish society was still in transition when she wrote them. Consequently, the novels give insight in the social unrest that was going on during her lifetime. Lastly, the studied aspects of both Austen’s and Ferrier’s novels will be compared to see if the latter shares the conservative views of her English fellow novelist. The reason why this study focusses on Austen is because there is still debate going on whether she was a conservative or a progressive. Recently, the academic Helena Kelly published a book entitled Jane Austen, the Secret Radical (2016) in which she claims that Austen was undoubtedly a progressive writer:

Jane’s novels, in truth, are as revolutionary, at their heart, as anything that Wollstonecraft or

Tom Paine wrote. But, by and large, they’re so cleverly crafted that unless readers are looking

in the right places – reading them in the right way – they simply won’t understand. (33)

5 That is in contrast with Austen’s last complete novel Persuasion (1817) in which it is clear that capitalism has a greater impact on English society. Its melancholic tone shows that Austen has given up hope (Monaghan 143).

As mentioned, this paper will argue the opposite. Regarding Ferrier, the purpose of this thesis is to gain insight in her views on the rise of capitalism and its effect on the different classes. This paper also aims to focus more on Ferrier, because in comparison to Austen, her work is still understudied and underappreciated.

2. Sense and Sensibility

Sense and Sensibility (1811), the first of Austen’s six complete novels, focusses on the lives of the Dashwood family. The story begins with the passing of Mr. Henry Dashwood’s uncle and the news that he bequeathed his fortune and the Norland estate to Henry’s son from a former marriage, John Dashwood, instead of to his nephew. As a result, Henry Dashwood is left with merely seven thousand pounds to provide for his wife and three daughters. With a positive attitude, Henry tries to live as economically as possible to “lay by a considerable sum” (4), but unfortunately he “survived his uncle no longer, and ten thousand pounds, including the late legacies, was all that remained for his widow and daughters” (4). As Mrs. Dashwood receives no help from John Dashwood and his wife Fanny Ferrars, she accepts the invitation of her cousin Sir John Middleton to move with her daughters to his cottage in Devonshire. It is clear that the heroines of the novel, Elinor and Marianne Dashwood, are threatened to lose their position among the gentry. To maintain their social status, they need to find a suitable husband. Elinor, who stands for the sense in Sense and Sensibility, would like to form an attachment with her love interest Edward Ferrars. However, she notices that he acts rather indifferently towards her since she moved to Devonshire. Above that, she also discovers that he is secretly engaged to a girl named Lucy Steele. After having faced many obstacles, everything ends well for Elinor. Edward’s unhappy engagement to Lucy comes to an end and he confesses to Elinor that he has loved her all this time. Eventually, Elinor becomes Mrs. Edward Ferrars. Marianne’s love story, on the other hand, is also not without difficulties. The young lady, who represents the sensibility in the title of the novel, gives all her attention to the young debtor Willoughby. As she believes him to be her ideal partner, she fails to acknowledge the attentions of the older but good-hearted Colonel Brandon. Yet, after Willoughby breaks her heart, Marianne finally comes to the realisation that Colonel Brandon is her perfect suitor. She gradually lets this man into her heart and by the end of the novel, they are happily wedded.

2.1. John Dashwood and Fanny Ferrars

As mentioned above, John Dashwood inherited the Norland estate, causing his wealth to increase while his stepmother and half-sisters are facing a financial struggle:

The son was amply provided for by the fortune of his mother, which has been large, and half

of which devolved on him on his coming of age. By his own marriage, likewise, which happened

soon afterwards, he added to his wealth. To him therefore the succession to the Norland estate

was not so really important as to his sisters; for their fortune […] could be but small. (3)

Initially, John intended to help out his stepsisters, since he vowed at his father’s deathbed that he would take care of his close relatives. That promise is, however, beyond the wishes of his wife Fanny. She does whatever it takes to convince her husband not to give them financial support. She tries to persuade him by arguing that this deed will eventually contribute to their impoverishment and that of their only son, considering that the Dashwood girls will not give that money back once they have married a wealthy husband. Next to that, she also reminds John of the fact that “all the china, plate, and linen” (9) is left to his mother, including a set of breakfast china that is twice as handsome as the one they have. Lastly, to ease her husband’s conscience, she tells him that it was never his father’s wish that they would give up part of their fortune to support his wife and daughters. According to her, John’s father used the term “assistance” in the sense of helping them find a comfortable house and giving them a hand with the removal. After hearing those arguments, John’s original idea of giving his stepsisters three thousand pounds quickly changed into keeping the whole inheritance to himself: “He finally resolved, that it would be absolutely unnecessary, if not highly indecorous, to do more for the widow and children of his father, than such kind of neighbourly acts as his own wife pointed out” (9). From those arguments, it looks like Henry and Fanny would have to sacrifice their comfortable life to help out Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters. Moreover, as Fanny phrases it, it almost seems as if they cannot afford it to give them financial support. However, their income turns out not to be that small. It is stated that the Norland estate provides them with an annual income of four thousand pounds. In addition to that, they also have John’s present income and the remaining half of his mother’s fortune. Although those last sums are not specified, it is estimated that John and Fanny have a yearly income of six thousand pounds (see appendix)6. In comparison to the other characters in Sense and Sensibility (see appendix)7, it is clear that they belong to the prosperous ones. That shows that Fanny’s arguments, in which she expresses her alleged fear for impoverishment, are based on egoism. Even if her husband decided to give away three thousand pounds, it would not have threatened their current financial position. She is thus presented as a greedy person who values her luxurious life and that of her son over other people’s well-being. A similar negative image can be found in the representation of Fanny’s husband John. He is described in the novel as cold-hearted, selfish and narrow-minded (4). There are several passages that

6 John’s fortune is based on the Norland estate, his present income and the sum he gained from his mother’s wealth. 7 It is important to highlight that the table focusses on the incomes that the characters have by the end of the novel (thus after their marriages).

illustrate why that portrayal is valid. First of all, John wanted to give the Dashwood ladies financial support out of selfish considerations. It is stated that John “had not the strong feelings of the rest of the family” (4), which already hints that his bond with them was not a strong one. Consequently, he neither gets touched by their problems, nor does he feel some kind of moral responsibility towards them. That also indicates that he does not want to help them because he cares about their well-being. On the contrary, it turns out that John merely wanted to provide for them to salve his own conscience. After all, he did pledge his father that he would assist his stepfamily and breaking that promise would make him feel guilty. Those feelings of remorse are illustrated in the fragment that describes Mrs. Dashwood’s and her daughters’ removal to Devonshire. After John decided not to financially support the Dashwood ladies, he is still haunted by the vow he made to his father. He desperately wants to do something for his stepfamily so that he can leave those feelings of guilt behind him. That is why he insists on helping them with the removal, but unfortunately for him, Devonshire is too far away to be able to assist them. As a result, John is left conscience-stricken:

Mr. John Dashwood told his mother again and again how exceedingly sorry he was that she

had taken a house at such a distance from Norland as to prevent his being of any service to her

in removing her furniture. He really felt conscientiously vexed on the occasion; for the very

exertion to which he had limited the performance of his promise to his father was by this

arrangement rendered impracticable […]. (17)

Besides being driven by pure self-interest, John also attaches too much importance to wealth. Money is, of course, important to maintain oneself, but the pursuit of profit must not lead to greed (Evans 17). John’s avarice is, for instance, emphasised in the passage in which Elinor talks to her stepbrother about John Middleton’s mother-in-law, Mrs. Jennings. While Elinor praises the moral qualities of that lady, he merely speaks of the possible benefits that his half-sister might gain from that acquaintance:

[…] Her house, her style of living, all bespeak an exceeding good income; and it is an

acquaintance that has not only been of great use to you hitherto, but in the end may prove

materially advantageous – Her inviting you to town is certainly a vast thing in your favour; and

indeed, it speaks altogether so great a regard for you, that in all probability when she dies you

will not be forgotten – She must have a great deal to leave. (137)

Characters such as Fanny and John Dashwood mark that Austen was not an advocate of the changing social order. Their negative portrayal demonstrates “a nostalgia for a golden age of the English gentry when elegant manners dictated and organised a coherent and ordered social world” (Evans 1). In the old system, genteel people had moral responsibilities towards the lower classes, a duty which is being described by Butler as “noblesse oblige” ( “Romantics” 104). John and Fanny, however, seem to have forgotten that obligation. By introducing such egoistic and greedy characters, Austen tries to hold up a mirror to her genteel contemporaries. She believes that it is the task of the gentry to set an example which, in this case, means living according to the principle of moral concern (Evans 17). If the genteel people give in to the self-centredness and the individualism of the new social order, then they are, in her opinion, no better than the upcoming capitalistic middle class:

Ultimately Jane Austen’s outlook profoundly favours the gentry, but this does not mean that

she flatters them at a more superficial level. On the contrary, she is as critical of the current

practice of her class as she is admiring the ethical theory that sustains it. (Butler “Romantics”

105)

2.2. Edward Ferrars and Lucy Steele

Edward Ferrars is depicted as a shy but kind-hearted young gentleman. As his mother is in control of his inheritance, he is completely dependent on her goodwill. However, a conflict soon emerges between them. Mrs. Ferrars desires Edward to marry Miss Morton, the only daughter of Lord Morton, who has a fortune of thirty thousand pounds. If Edward accepts this alliance, his mother will “settle on him the Norfolk estate, which, clear of land-tax, brings in a good thousand a year” (161). To persuade her son, she even offers to raise that income with an extra two hundred pounds per annum. The combination of Miss Morton’s wealth, the sum that his mother is willing to pay and the two thousand pounds that he owns himself, would give him an annual income of more than two thousand five hundred pounds. According to Copeland, that sum would enable Edward to live a comfortable life if he spends his money wisely (132). Unfortunately, that income is lost to him, as he is already secretly engaged to Lucy Steele, a girl of low birth. When Mrs. Ferrars finds out about that “low connection” (161), she demands Edward to break off the engagement. The latter, however, refuses to do so and ends up being disinherited by his mother:

His own two thousand pounds she protested should be his all; she would never see him again;

and so far would she be from affording him the smallest assistance, that if he were to enter

into any profession with a view of better support, she would do all in her power to prevent his

advancing in it. (161)

Edward’s rejection of a connection with Miss Morton shows that he is not driven by financial gain. Next to that, the fact that he does not detach himself from Lucy proves that he is an honourable man. Especially since he has long ceased to love her (219). It is stated that he asked Lucy to marry him when he was much younger. The only reason why he committed to her, is because she was one of the very few people whom he often saw while he was feeling lonely back then:

[…] I was not entered at Oxford till I was nineteen […]. I had therefore nothing in the world to

do, but to fancy myself in love; and as my mother did not make my home in every respect

comfortable, as I had no friend, no companion in my brother […]. (220)

At that time, Edward “had seen so little of other women, that [he] could make no comparisons, and see no defects” (220). Now, he realises that Lucy is not his ideal partner. He would rather be with Elinor. Yet, he made a vow to Lucy and he does not intend to break it. That act shows, as Elinor argues in the novel, a lot of integrity, for “how small [is] the consolation, beyond the consciousness of doing right, that [is to] remain to him in the loss of friends and fortune” (163). It is, however, mentioned that Edward did suggest a separation to Lucy shortly after his disinheritance. Yet, it was not for his own sake that he talked about ending the relationship. It was for Lucy’s happiness. As he is left with merely two thousand pounds, he realises that he cannot give her a comfortable life. In other words, he does not wish Lucy to be bound to a man without fortune:

[…] He could not bear to think of her not doing better, and so he begged, if she had the least

mind for it, to put an end to the matter directly, and leave him to shift for himself […]. And it

was entirely for her sake, and upon her account, that he said about being off, and not upon his

own. (165)

Austen takes a positive stance towards her character Edward, because he is a true gentleman. Unlike John and Fanny, he cares about other people’s well-being. He is even willing to sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of that of Lucy. That indicates that Edward is primarily motivated by moral responsibility and concern. His personality and conduct thus correspond with the principles of the old social order. His fiancée Lucy, on the other hand, rather fits within the new social order that Austen utterly condemns. She is a vulgar, ignorant and illiterate middle-class woman who acts out of selfishness. She does not care about other people’s happiness. The fact that she plays with Elinor’s feelings illustrates that. Lucy realises that Elinor is in love with Edward. Instead of showing compassion, Lucy intentionally tries to hurt Elinor by giving her detailed accounts of her relationship with him. She knows that it must be painful for Elinor to be constantly reminded that her love interest is engaged to another. Apart from that, Lucy’s immorality is also illustrated in her attachment to Edward. She knows that Edward is very weary of their engagement, because he is in love with Elinor. Although Edward and herself have no feelings for each other, she refuses to let him go. It is stated that Lucy only holds on to the gentleman out of “self-interest” (91). She realises that their marriage will be her only opportunity to elevate her social position. Despite Edward’s disinheritance, Lucy will still have a more comfortable life with him than when she weds a man of her own rank. That same kind of ambition eventually leads to Lucy breaking off her engagement with Edward to wed his older brother Robert. By marrying Robert, Lucy does not only become part of the gentry. She also has more wealth, because Mrs. Ferrars has given her eldest the whole inheritance, including the part that was intended for Edward (cf. infra). By becoming Mrs. Robert Ferrars, Lucy thus shows that she is driven by financial gain as well. Her husband’s personality and conduct appears to be no better. Robert is described as a pretentious “coxcomb” (89) who believes himself to be superior to others. He also proves himself to be a greedy and immoral being by deceiving his mother. He promised Mrs. Ferrars that he would marry the rich Miss Morton. Delighted with the prospect of such a good connection, Mrs. Ferrars gave him Edward’s part of the inheritance. However, once Robert received the fortune, he married the penniless Lucy. It is very likely that he wedded her out of unethical considerations. It is suggested that he started a relationship with Lucy, because he wanted to hurt his brother by stealing his girl. The following statement supports that claim: “He was proud of his conquest, proud of tricking Edward […]” (229). Next to that, the novel also hints that Robert got carried away by his own pride:

Edward could only attempt an explanation by supposing, that, perhaps, at first accidentally

meeting, the vanity of the one had been so worked on by the flattery of the other, as to lead

by degrees to all the rest. (221)

Clearly, Robert’s nature and conduct fit within the new social order in which individualism and selfishness predominate. He does not care about the responsibilities he has as a member of the gentry. On the contrary, he contributes to the decline of the hereditary gentry by marrying an ambitious middle-class woman. Consequently, this character is condemned by Austen.

2.3. Edward Ferrars and Elinor Dashwood

In the mid-eighteenth century, the notion of “sensibility” started to emerge. Todd describes this concept as “an innate sensitiveness or susceptibility revealing itself in a variety of spontaneous activities such as crying, swooning and kneeling” ( “Sensibility” 7). This definition already shows that sensibility is often associated with “unmeasured, extravagant emotion” (Manning 80). Such excessive feelings form the core of the eighteenth-century sentimental novels that were intended as a “reaction to the austerity and rationalism of the Neoclassical period” (Merriam-Webster’s Encyclopedia of Literature 1013). In those stories, the characters respond, for instance, in an effusive emotional manner to “the beauties of nature” or to “the griefs of others” (The Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms). That kind of behaviour is considered righteous, because it shows that the person in question has “a pure heart” (The Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms). Sentimental novels thus try to convey the message that there are “close connections between virtue and sensibility” (The Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms). While the cult of sensibility proclaims “sentimental (or revolutionary) idealism” (Butler “Jane Austen” 104), Austen upholds a more conservative, traditional Christian view. She is sceptical of human nature, for she believes it to be fallible (Butler “Romantics” 104). Following that, Austen thinks that sensibility does not necessarily stand for virtue, because she regards it as a system that people might exploit to obtain what they want. Lucy Steele, for instance, is certainly not a sensitive and sympathetic person, but she acts as such to fulfil her own individual, selfish needs (Butler “Jane Austen” 193-194)8. Lastly, Austen is also no adherent of sensibility and its display of excessive feelings, considering that

8 It is mentioned in the novel that Lucy constantly compliments Lady Middleton and her children to make herself agreeable.

13 this kind of behaviour might endanger the ethical values that mark the old social system (cf. infra). A little sensibility is necessary to lead a moral life, but it should be counteracted by some sense. To oppose extreme sensibility, Austen introduces the protagonist Elinor, who is the oldest of the Dashwood girls. She is depicted as a lady with an “excellent heart” (5), an affectionate disposition and “a strength for understanding” (5). She is a person of feeling, but it cannot be denied that her behaviour and actions are primarily based on sense. That is why Elinor stands for the “sense” in the title of the novel. Contrary to the sensitive characters of the sentimental novels, who are optimistic, intuitive and un-self-critical, Elinor constantly questions her own and other people’s judgements (Butler “Jane Austen” 192). Besides her “coolness of judgement” (5), Elinor’s rationality is also illustrated in the way she talks about her best friend and love interest Edward Ferrars. Although she clearly has feelings for this gentleman, she does not talk about him in terms of love or passionate sentiments. Instead, she says that she “esteems” and “likes” him (14). According to her younger sister Marianne, it is cold- hearted to talk about a love interest in such a way. Elinor, however, gives a well-considered explanation for her carefully chosen terminology:

Believe [my feelings] to be stronger than I have declared […]. But farther than this you must

not believe. I am by no means assured of his regard for me. […] Till his sentiments are fully

known, you cannot wonder at my wishing to avoid any encouragement of my own partiality,

by believing or calling it more than it is. (14)

That passage shows that Elinor does not wish to raise high expectations which may then result in disappointment. After all, she is not certain if Edward’s feelings are mutual, as he often gives the impression of being indifferent to her9. Above that, she is also very much aware that Edward is far from independent and that his mother wants him to marry a woman with “great fortune” (14). As Elinor’s father could not leave his family much profit, she is lingering on the edges of the lower regions of the gentry. With her one thousand pounds that she can call her own, Elinor realises that Mrs. Ferrars would never approve of her. Instead of letting herself get carried away by romantic ideals, Elinor clearly bears in mind that the reality of her future prospect with Edward may be harsh:

9 It is important to emphasise that Edward often keeps himself aloof from Elinor, because he wants to prevent his feelings for her to grow stronger, considering that he is secretly engaged to Lucy Steele.

A more reasonable cause might be found in the dependent situation which forbade the

indulgence of his affection. She knew that his mother neither behaved to him so as to make

his home comfortable at present, nor to give him any assurance that he might form a home

for himself, without strictly attending to her views for his aggrandisement. With such a

knowledge as this, it was impossible for Elinor to feel easy on the subject. (15)

By introducing a woman of good sense such as Elinor, Austen criticises the individualisation of feeling that was emerging (Evans 41-42). To protect the old social order and its moral values, Austen wants to persuade her readers “to look less at their specific individuality than at their generality” (Evans 42). Instead of individualising need by romance or fantasy, people should focus on the necessities “that all share”, such as “material provision, social recognition, commitment, and the means to support their children” (Evans 42). Elinor sets an example by reflecting on her future financial prospect and by thinking about Edward’s feelings towards her. Following that, it can be argued as well that Austen uses Elinor to emphasise the importance of the gentry’s “social credo” (Butler “Romantics” 104). In the novel, Elinor is presented as a person who puts her own feelings aside to help out other people with their sorrows. When Lucy tells her about her engagement to Edward, she is asked to keep their marriage plans a secret. Consequently, Elinor cannot talk to anyone about the fact that she is hurt by the news that Edward is engaged. Her emotional torment becomes even worse when she has to support her younger sister Marianne who is sorrowful as well (see following chapter). To spare Marianne from more distress, Elinor decides to conceal her wretched state of mind by acting calmly and cheerfully. Moreover, as Miss Dashwood explains herself, she sees it as her “duty” (158) to behave as such. That feeling of responsibility is, for example, highlighted in the fragment where Marianne hears of Edward’s engagement to Lucy. Elinor explains to her that she knew about it, but that she was bound to silence:

For four months, Marianne, I have had all this hanging on my mind, without being at liberty to

speak of it to a single creature; knowing that it would make you and my mother most unhappy

whenever it were explained to you. (159)

That Elinor was willing to suffer in silence all that time indicates that “the main impulse behind her behaviour is always to protect others” (Butler “Romantics” 104). As she argues herself in the above- mentioned fragment, she kept smiling, because she did not want to upset her closest relatives.

However, as Butler points out, Elinor does not only feel responsible for her mother and sister, she also wants to protect others on a more social level (“Romantics” 104). That is, for instance, illustrated in the passage where Elinor and Marianne are travelling to London with Mrs. Jennings:

Marianne's behaviour as they travelled was a happy specimen of what future complaisance

and companionableness to Mrs. Jennings might be expected to be. She sat in silence almost all

the way, wrapt in her own meditations, and scarcely ever voluntarily speaking, except when

any object of picturesque beauty within their view drew from her an exclamation of delight

exclusively addressed to her sister. To atone for this conduct therefore, Elinor took immediate

possession of the post of civility which she had assigned herself, behaved with the greatest

attention to Mrs. Jennings, talked with her, laughed with her, and listened to her whenever

she could; […]. (96)

That fragment indicates that Marianne openly expresses her unhappiness by remaining silent. She is being criticised by Austen, because of her excessive sensibility (see following chapter). By acting in such a way, Marianne is only occupied with her own individualistic feelings. She does not take into account that her behaviour influences the mood of her companions. Her sensibility becomes, in other words, “an excuse for anti-social and actually unkind behaviour” (Butler “Romantics” 104). Elinor, on the other hand, puts her grief aside to make sure that Mrs. Jennings has a good time. Elinor’s self- control is praised by Austen because this kind of behaviour proclaims that “the old style of social responsibility is accepted, duty (the idealized reading of upper-class motivation) put before the new individualism” (Butler “Romantics” 104-105). Clearly, Austen has a high regard of the genteel lady Elinor. That is because her personality and manners fit within the old social order where moral concern predominates. In that regard, she is a better partner for Edward than Lucy. As argued in the previous chapter, Edward is, just as Elinor, presented as a true genteel person who is morally upright. He too puts his own happiness aside to do what he believes is right. In his case, that is keeping his promise to Lucy that he would wed her (see previous chapter). However, when Lucy elopes with his older brother Robert, Edward is finally able to ask the hand of the woman of his heart, Elinor. After they got engaged, Edward and Elinor are “overcome by [their] own felicity” (220-221). Nevertheless, there is still one important obstacle that prevents them to live a comfortable life amongst the gentry. As already mentioned, it is important that people do not let themselves get carried

away by romantic ideals. One has to think about other important matters as well, such as financial security. That is, however, problematic in the relationship of Edward and Elinor. After his disinheritance, Edward is left with merely two thousand pounds (see previous chapter). With the help of Elinor’s friend Colonel Brandon, Edward manages to become the parson of Delaford. That profession gives him an extra income of two hundred pounds per annum. Together with Elinor’s thousand pounds, this couple has an annual income of three hundred and fifty pounds. Unfortunately, that sum does not suffice:

They were brought together by mutual affection, with the warmest approbation of their real

friends, their intimate knowledge of each other seemed to make their happiness certain – and they

only wanted something to live upon. Edward had two thousand pounds, and Elinor one, which,

with Delaford living, was all that they could call their own; for it was impossible that Mrs Dashwood

should advance anything, and they were neither of them quite enough in love to think that three

hundred and fifty pounds a year would supply them with the comforts of life. (224)

To maintain their position amongst the gentry, they go to Edward’s mother in the hope of receiving some financial support. At first, Mrs. Ferrars “reasonably endeavoured to dissuade [Edward] from marrying Miss Dashwood” (227). She told him that he still has the chance of marrying Miss Morton, who is “a woman of higher rank and larger fortune” (227). She soon realises that Edward has made up his mind and decides to provide for them:

[…] Not the smallest objection was made against Edward’s taking order for the sake of two

hundred and fifty at the utmost, nor was anything promised either for the present or in future,

beyond the ten thousand pounds, which had been given with Fanny. It was as much, however,

as was desired, and more than was expected by Edward and Elinor; and Mrs Ferrars herself,

by her shuffling excuses, seemed the only person surprised at her not giving more. (227-228)

With the received financial aid, their annual income raises from three hundred and fifty pounds to eight hundred and fifty pounds. According to Copeland, that sum does not suffice “to enter a realm of unlimited genteel comforts” (132). However, as long as they do not squander the money, they should be able to live a comfortable life (132). As they have a sufficient income now, they finally get married.

Elinor and Edward’s marriage, which is clearly an exemplary one, shows that Austen is an adherent of the old social order. She praises this couple’s connection because it based on morality, mutual love, birth and financial security. According to Austen, those are all the fundaments of a good relationship. Unlike Lucy and Robert’s attachment, there is no selfishness involved in the alliance between Elinor and Edward. Consequently, their attachment is portrayed in a more positive light.

2.4. John Willoughby and Marianne Dashwood

Marianne Dashwood is not only described as generous and amiable, she also has an eager personality. Unlike Elinor who is “sceptical, always ready to study the evidence, to reopen a question [and] to doubt her own prior judgements” (Butler “Jane Austen” 192), Marianne relies too much on her private intuition. That is why she represents the sensibility in the title of the novel. By opposing a character such as Marianne to Elinor, Austen wants to warn her contemporaries about the dangers of excessive sensibility. It is already clear from the beginning of the novel that Marianne lets herself get carried away by romantic fantasies. She argues that she does not want to settle for someone whose interests and ideas do not correspond with hers: “I could not be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with my own. He must enter into all my feelings; the same books, the same music must charm us both” (12). One moment in the novel, it seems as if Marianne has found her ideal partner. She meets a gentleman called Willoughby who carries her home after twisting her ankle. While admiring his beauty and his personality, Marianne shares her thoughts on this refined man:

His person and air were equal to what her fancy had ever drawn for the hero of a favourite story;

and in his carrying her into the house with so little previous formality, there was a rapidity of

thought which particularly recommended the action to her. Every circumstance belonging to him

was interesting. His name was good, his residence was in their favourite village, and she soon found

out that of all manly dresses a shooting-jacket was the most becoming. Her imagination was busy,

her reflections were pleasant, and the pain of a sprained ankle was disregarded. (28)

After Marianne’s accident, Willoughby often visits her. The more they talk, the more they discover that “their enjoyment of dancing and music [is] mutual” (30). Next to that, Willoughby also has a similar taste in literature: “the same books, the same passages were idolised by each” (30). In

short, Willoughby appears to meet Marianne’s demands of her ideal partner. Blinded by the thought of having found her prince charming, Marianne gives him her full attention. Willoughby assures her of his affection by doing the same:

When he was present she had no eyes for anyone else. Everything he did, was right. Everything

he said, was clever. If their evenings at the park were concluded with cards, he cheated himself

and all the rest of the party to get her a good hand. 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 anybody else. (34)

Although they both seem to be enchanted by one another, Marianne’s fairy tale abruptly comes to an end by the news that Willoughby is sent to London for business by his aunt Mrs. Smith. Elinor already senses that something suspicious is going on. The day before Willoughby was still “so happy, so cheerful [and] so affectionate” (48) around them and now, after only ten minutes notice, he is suddenly gone without intending to return. Later in the novel, her distrust appears to be justified when they come across Willoughby at a party, while he is supposed to be out of town. Even though he catches Elinor’s and Marianne’s eye, Willoughby makes no attempt to approach them. Moreover, he is “in earnest conversation with a very fashionable-looking young woman” (106). Marianne becomes pale when she notices his indifference towards her and starts to exclaim “in a voice of the greatest emotion” (106). To avoid a scene, Willoughby decides to walk away with his companion. The next morning, however, Marianne learns about her lover’s true personality. She receives a letter in which Willoughby explains that his “affections have been long engaged elsewhere” (110). He also informs her that his marriage plans with this other woman will soon be fulfilled. It is due to his past immoral actions that Willoughby suddenly detaches himself from Marianne. It turns out that he seduced, impregnated and abandoned Colonel Brandon’s ward Eliza. When his aunt Mrs. Smith found out about this scandal, she immediately disinherited him. As a result, Willoughby was left with nothing more than a small estate that gave him an annual income of six or seven hundred pounds. As he was used to extravagance, that sum did not suffice for him. Now, he has been offered the chance to marry the wealthy Miss Eliza Grey, who has a fortune of fifty thousand pounds. Clearly, he has decided to seize this opportunity. By doing so, Willoughby positions himself within the new social order that is mostly based on “the maximization of profit” (Evans 3). Austen has no problem with financial gain, but she believes that “the pursuit of profit must be tempered by moral concern and values other than those of the profit

19 motive” (Evans 17). In Willoughby’s case, that moral aspect is completely absent as he does not take Marianne’s feelings into account when he chooses to marry Miss Grey. On the contrary, he is “primarily motivated by financial gain” (Evans 19). That is, for instance, highlighted in the following statement of Mrs. Jennings:

[…] When a young man, be who he will, comes and makes love to a pretty girl, and promises

marriage, he has no business to fly off from his word only because he grows poor, and a richer

girl is ready to have him. Why don't he, in such a case, sell his horses, let his house, turn off his

servants, and make a thorough reform at once? I warrant you, Miss Marianne would have been

ready to wait till matters came round. But that won't do now-a-days; nothing in the way of

pleasure can ever be given up by the young men of this age. (117)

In her argument, Mrs. Jennings clearly accuses Willoughby of being selfish and greedy, since he is not willing to give up some of his luxuries to pay off his debts. Elinor shares that view, for she concludes that “his own enjoyment, or his own ease, was, in every particular, his ruling principle” (213). He would, in other words, never have gone through the trouble of fighting for Marianne. Willoughby still tries to defend himself by telling his side of the story to Elinor. He admits that he first attached himself to her sister for his own amusement and that he originally had no intention of returning her affection. Yet, he also states that his feelings for Marianne quickly changed and that he soon realised that he was “sincerely fond of her” (194). Nonetheless, he could not ignore the lingering threat of poverty and therefore decided that marrying Miss Grey would be his best option. Now, however, he finds himself discontented with the choice he made:

"Do not talk to me of my wife," said he with a heavy sigh.— "She does not deserve your

compassion.—She knew I had no regard for her when we married.—Well, married we were,

and came down to Combe Magna to be happy, and afterwards returned to town to be gay.—

And now do you pity me, Miss Dashwood?—or have I said all this to no purpose?— Am I—be

it only one degree—am I less guilty in your opinion than I was before?—My intentions were

not always wrong. Have I explained away any part of my guilt?" […]. (200)

By focussing on his guilt and unhappiness, Willoughby shows once again that he is driven by self- centredness. He does not tell his story to apologise for his behaviour or to express his compassion for Marianne. On the contrary, he shares it with the intention of being pitied himself. That view is also expressed by Elinor who says that he only regrets his decision, “because it has not answered towards himself. It has not made him happy” (213). Yet, Willoughby’s degree of grief is nothing compared to the kind of pain that Marianne feels. After receiving Willoughby’s “impudently cruel” letter “of which every line was an insult, and which proclaimed its writer to be deep in hardened villainy” (111), Marianne sinks into deep sorrow. Her romantic hero turns out to be an idle and egoistic man who puts his individual needs above other people’s well-being. She is thus presented as the victim of the self-centredness and greed that mark the new social order. Following that, it can be argued that Austen uses Marianne’s tragic lot to warn her readers about the dangers of excessive sensibility. When her romantic dreams and expectations fall apart, Marianne is so heart-broken that she can barely eat and sleep. Consequently, her body weakens. At a certain moment, Marianne gets a fever and almost succumbs to it. That near-death experience makes her realise how dangerous it is “to trust private intuition or passion in forming judgements of others” (Butler “Jane Austen” 101):

My illness has made me think— It has given me leisure and calmness for serious recollection.

Long before I was enough recovered to talk, I was perfectly able to reflect. I considered the

past: I saw in my own behaviour, since the beginning of our acquaintance with him last autumn,

nothing but a series of imprudence towards myself, and want of kindness to others. I saw that

my own feelings had prepared my sufferings, and that my want of fortitude under them had

almost led me to the grave. My illness, I well knew, had been entirely brought on by myself by

such negligence of my own health, as I had felt even at the time to be wrong. Had I died,—it

would have been self-destruction. (210)

2.5. Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood

Colonel Brandon is introduced in the novel as a thirty-five-year-old man with a “particularly gentleman- like” address (22). The use of that suffix “like” is very peculiar here, especially since this man is born into a landed genteel family, for it is mentioned that he inherits the family estate in Delaford after his older brother, who initially succeeded the property, passes away. Besides that, Brandon’s position as

21 a colonel should be enough to qualify as a gentleman in late eighteenth—and early nineteenth- century-England. It is likely that Austen describes this character as a gentleman-like person because of some events that took place in the English military during her lifetime. In 1808, it was revealed that the Commander-in-Chief of the English army, the Duke of York, had an affair with the courtesan Anne Clark (Fulford 159). She also accepted bribes from officers who were seeking promotion:

[…] To supplement the inadequate allowance that her royal lover gave her, she accepted cash,

in return for which the Duke arranged rapid advancement for the officer concerned. It was also

alleged that, as well as sterling, she accepted sexual favours from the more eligible soldiers.

(Fulford 159)

This scandal put the army in a poor light, for it caused that the military was rather associated with vanity and sexuality than with warfare. Those happenings caused Austen to be sceptical about the army. Nevertheless, Colonel Brandon’s conduct appears to be upright as it stated that he is “a man of great worth and respectability” and that he is “perfectly the gentleman” in his manners (175). That is, for instance, highlighted in the passage where Marianne plays the pianoforte. While Sir John “was loud in his admiration at the end of every song, and as loud in his conversation with the others while every song lasted” (23), Colonel Brandon “alone, of all the party, heard her without being in raptures. He paid her only the compliment of attention; and she felt a respect for him on the occasion, which the others had reasonably forfeited by their shameless want of taste” (23). Besides his cordiality, Brandon is also praised because he is always willing to help other people. When he hears that Elinor’s friend Edward is having some financial problems, he offers him a job as a clergyman to protect him from poverty (see 2.3. Edward Ferrars and Elinor Dashwood). Another example that highlights his good-hearted personality is when Marianne, who is at that moment very ill, asks to see her mother one more time, just in case she would not make it. To grant Marianne’s wish, Brandon immediately offers “himself as the messenger who should fetch Mrs Dashwood” (188). As the examples above already illustrate, Brandon’s personality clearly fits within the expected social credo of the gentry. That his nature and actions are worthy of praise is also emphasised by the fact that he puts other people’s well-being above his own happiness. Just like Elinor, he suffers in silence. That is shown in the way he copes with Marianne and Willoughby’s connection. It hurts him to see his love interest with Willoughby, especially since he knows what this young man has done to his ward Eliza (see previous chapter). Nevertheless, he never informs Marianne about Willoughby and

Eliza, because he does not want to interfere with her relationship. He sees that Marianne is very happy with Willoughby and, therefore, decides to keep his mouth shut. It is also important to mention that he only shares his story to Elinor in confidence after Marianne and Willoughby are already broken up. That way, he does not run the risk of hurting Marianne:

His character is now before you; expensive, dissipated, and worse than both. Knowing all this,

as I have now known it many weeks, guess what I must have felt on seeing your sister as fond

of him as ever, and on being assured that she was to marry him: guess what I must have felt

for all your sakes. […] My behaviour must have seemed strange to you then; but now you will

comprehend it. To suffer you all to be so deceived; to see your sister—but what could I do? I

had no hope of interfering with success; and sometimes I thought your sister's influence might

yet reclaim him. (127)

It is thus clear that Brandon puts his own feelings aside to make sure that he does not stand in the way of Marianne’s happiness. However, it takes Marianne a long time to realise that. As long as she is together with Willoughby, she is too occupied with pursuing her romantic dreams. Consequently, she neglects Brandon’s regard for her. Marianne also believes it to be impossible for a seventeen-year- old woman to fall in love with a man of thirty-five:

[…] He is old enough to be my father; and if he were ever animated enough to be in love, must

have long outlived every sensation of the kind. It is too ridiculous! When is a man to be safe

from such wit, if age and infirmity will not protect him? […] Did not you hear him complain of

the rheumatism? And is not that the commonest infirmity of declining life? […]. (24)

Apart from age, Colonel Brandon also does not stand a chance because Marianne does not believe in second attachments. According to her, a person can only fall in love once. As she gave her heart to Willoughby, she thus regards him as the one for her. So far, it can be concluded that Marianne’s romantic ideas are “too deeply rooted” (205). As a result of focussing too much on her own intuition and passion, Marianne continually assesses people wrongly. She sees Willoughby’s youthful beauty and immediately links that to romance and everlasting love. She does not take into account that there is a possibility of him having a bad personality.

Conversely, she meets a man of thirty-five and instantly regards him as “an absolute old bachelor” (22) with fortune who merely wants to marry her because of her youth:

It would be a compact of convenience, and the world would be satisfied. In my eyes it would

be no marriage at all, but that would be nothing. To me it would seem only a commercial

exchange, in which each wished to be benefited at the expense of the other. (24)

However, misjudging people is not the only negative consequence of too much sensibility. As Austen tries to show, it often leads to unkind behaviour (Butler “Romantics” 104). In the novel, it is apparent that Marianne repeatedly treats Colonel Brandon in a disrespectful manner, even though he is always kind to her. That is, for instance, illustrated in the passage in which Marianne and Willoughby are slighting Brandon by saying that he is the kind of man “whom everybody speaks well of, and nobody cares about; whom all are delighted to see, and nobody remembers to talk to” (32). Above that, Marianne also insults the colonel by arguing that “he has neither genius, taste, nor spirit. That his understanding has no brilliancy, his feelings no ardour, and his voice no expression” (33). Elinor, however, cannot stand those verbal abuses and confronts her sister with the fact that her judgements are based on prejudices and imagination:

“You decide on his imperfections so much in the mass," replied Elinor, "and so much on the

strength of your own imagination, that the commendation I am able to give of him is

comparatively cold and insipid. I can only pronounce him to be a sensible man, well-bred, well-

informed, of gentle address, and, I believe, possessing an amiable heart […]”. (33)

Finally, towards the end of the novel, Marianne learns that Elinor was right. After been ill-used by Willoughby and nearly passing away as a result of her sensibility, Marianne realises that she needs to adjust her behaviour: “[…] My feelings shall be governed and my temper improved. They shall no longer worry others, nor torture myself” (211). As she is no longer influenced by prejudices and romantic illusions, she understands that Colonel Brandon is a true gentleman. Gradually, she falls in love with him:

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 affection formed so late in life as at seventeen, and with no sentiment

superior to strong esteem and lively friendship, voluntarily 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

still sought the constitutional safeguard of a flannel waistcoat! (230)

Marianne and Brandon’s marriage is praised by Austen for several reasons. Firstly, it is a connection between two kind-hearted upper-class people who will set an example to their fellow citizens. Initially, Marianne did not behave properly, but she altered her conduct. Now, she is driven by morality and responsibility, just like her husband. Secondly, Marianne and Brandon’s attachment is based on the moral principle of mutual love. Thirdly, there is financial security. With Brandon’s annual income of two thousand pounds, they will be able to live an enjoyable life among the gentry. As there is no individualism and greed involved, Marianne and Brandon’s attachment thus meets Austen’s expectations of an ideal connection.

3. Pride and Prejudice

In Pride and Prejudice (1813) the Bennet family is confronted with the consequences of an “entailment”, which is a system that limits “the inheritance of property over a number of generations so that ownership remains within a particular family or group” (the online Oxford Dictionary). As it follows the rule of male primogeniture, the estate is bequeathed to the oldest son. That is, however, a problem for Mr. and Mrs. Bennet whose offspring consists of five daughters. Considering that they have no male descendant, the property will automatically become the possession of Mr. Bennet’s cousin Mr. Collins, because he is the closest masculine relative. As Mr. Bennet’s property and the income that can be derived from that will go to Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet’s own nine thousand pounds will be all that is left to provide for herself and her daughters10. To prevent them from having to live in poverty, Mrs. Bennet insists that her children get married before her husband dies, so that their spouses can financially support them. Regarding the daughters’ search for husbands, the narrative mainly focusses on the love interests of the two oldest Bennet sisters, Jane and Elizabeth, and of the youngest child, the fifteen- year-old Lydia. Jane falls in love with the kind-hearted Mr. Bingley and although his feelings for her are mutual, the couple still faces some struggles as his sisters do not approve of this connection. In the meantime, Elizabeth has set her mind on George Wickham, an officer with a pleasing appearance and gentlemanly manners. Based on those characteristics, Elizabeth assumes that he must be an honourable man. That prejudice, however, prevents her from seeing that there is a selfish person hiding behind that noble façade. That same kind of judgement also leads to the condemnation of the aristocratic gentleman Mr. Darcy. She fails to see that he is a caring person who is really fond of her, because she focusses too much on their first encounter, in which Darcy acted in a haughty manner, and on the fact that Wickham, whom she regards as an honest person, dislikes him. Nevertheless, Elizabeth eventually manages to see the true colours of both these men. She finally lets Darcy into her heart and intends to banish Wickham from her life. Unfortunately, her acquaintance with the officer proceeds as her imprudent and flirtatious sister Lydia weds him.

10 She inherited four thousand pounds from her father. Next to that, a sum of five thousand pounds was settled upon her by marriage.

3.1. Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must

be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his

first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding

families, that he is considered as the rightful property of someone or other of their daughters.

(235)

By means of that famous opening line, Austen announces the arrival of the wealthy tenant Mr. Bingley at the estate Netherfield Park. The rumour goes that he is “a single man of large fortune” who has an annual income of four or five thousand pounds (235). As the fragment above already indicates, the women in the neighbourhood immediately assume that the man is visiting because he is searching for a wife. Yet, the first sentence of the novel can also be interpreted in the opposite way, in the sense that a single woman must be in want of a husband who has a good fortune. As Markley points out, the number of suitable partners for women of the upper classes was rather limited in late eighteenth— and early nineteenth-century-England (93). Consequently, there was some competition between the higher-rank ladies. That is already illustrated in the first pages of the novel in which Mrs. Bennet desires Mr. Bingley to meet her daughters as soon as possible before another lady grabs her chance of forming an alliance with him. Luckily for Mrs. Bennet, everything seems to fall into place. Mr. Bingley falls in love with her oldest daughter, the kind-hearted Jane Bennet. Despite that Jane’s feelings for Bingley are mutual, she tends to act rather reserved towards him. That causes him to question her feelings. When Bingley’s sisters, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, hear about his doubts, they plan to keep him far away from Jane. They convince Bingley to distance himself from her for a while. They also send a letter to Jane in which they state that their brother went to London without the intention of returning and that it is very likely that he will marry Mr. Darcy’s younger sister Georgiana. Jane’s sister Elizabeth immediately realises that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst believe the Bennet family “not [to be] rich enough, or grand enough for them” (308). She understands that they would rather see their brother marrying Georgiana, because she is connected to the aristocracy and has a fortune of thirty thousand pounds:

They may wish many things besides his happiness, they may wish his increase of wealth and

consequence; they may wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, great

connections, and pride. (318)

Jane, on the other hand, is “so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others” that she fails to realise that (242). As she tends to “like people in general”, she refuses to believe that the Bingley sisters would sabotage her connection (242). Unfortunately for Jane, Elizabeth’s assumptions are right. A private conversation between Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy illustrates that:

“[…] I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and

such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it.”

“I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton.”

“Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside.”

“That is capital,” added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.

“If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside,” cried Bingley, “it would not make them one

jot less agreeable.”

“But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the

world,” replied Darcy.

To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their hearty assent, and indulged

their mirth for some time at the expense of their dear friend’s vulgar relations. (255)

In the passage above, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst and Mr. Darcy criticise the family situation of the Bennet daughters. Mrs. Hurst’s comment on being well-settled immediately shows that the Bennet ladies are in a disadvantageous position, considering that they do not have favourable connections, their father’s property is entailed and they do not own much money themselves. Their marriage prospect is thus already unfortunate. However, as Mr. Darcy’s remark on marrying men of any consideration indicates, their chance of finding a suitable husband is even lower because of their father’s matrimonial decision. In the passage, it is highlighted that Bingley’s sisters and Mr. Darcy denounce the fact that Mr. Bennet, who belongs to the landed gentry, has married beneath his rank. Mrs. Bennet’s inferiority is, for instance, illustrated in the profession of her brother Mr. Gardiner. The

29 latter is looked down upon because he is a merchant in Cheapside, one of the most prosperous commercial areas in London (Shapard 67). That condemnation is shown in Mrs. Hurst’s sneering comment “That is capital” (255). As Markley points out, the term “capital” seems to imply that “Mr. Gardiner is involved with ungentlemanly forms of moneymaking” (90). The reason why Bingley’s sisters and Mr. Darcy take such a negative stance towards Mr. Gardiner’s trading activities and the fortune that derives from that can possibly be explained from a historical perspective. As argued in the introduction, in late eighteenth—and early nineteenth-century-England the division between the several social classes started to blur due to the rise of a capitalist middle class. Many merchants back then were able to make as much money as the land-owning gentry and could thus also purchase their own piece of land. Naturally, those tradesmen were frowned upon by the hereditary gentlemen and ladies who regard them as inferior people trying to buy their way into the higher classes. It is, however, quite remarkable that the Bingley sisters condemn Jane’s commercial relations, because it is underlined in the novel that the fortune of the Bingley family derives from trade as well. Bingley’s father got prosperous by lucrative trade and “intended to purchase an estate” to put himself and his family at the position of the landed gentry (243). The tradesman, however, “did not live to do it”, but managed to leave his children a fortune large enough that they do not need to work (243). His daughters each got twenty thousand pounds and his son “inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred thousand pounds” (243). That gives Mr. Bingley an annual income of about five thousand pounds which is, according to Copeland, enough “to enter a realm of unlimited genteel comforts” (132). As the table on the incomes indicates (see appendix), Mr. Bingley’s income is almost six times larger than that of Edward Ferrars and Elinor Dashwood and is nearly triple the income of Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood. Despite their wealth, Mr. Bingley and his sisters still cannot enjoy the same status as those Sense and Sensibility characters, because of their family background and their lack of an estate (Kramp 75). From that perspective, it can be argued that Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley’s haughty speech on Jane’s relatives is an attempt to increase their own respectability. During the conversation, it quickly transpires that the Bingley sisters claim to have a more elevated social position than Mr. Gardiner. Unlike him, they are, allegedly, not of commercial stock. However, their ancestors were commercial middle-class people who had made their fortune in the north of England. The sisters perceive the fact that they physically left that part of the country as a distinct dissociation with their family’s past as traders and craftsmen. Mr. Gardiner, on the other hand, still lives “within view of his own warehouses” (320). The disdain is clear. Above that, they also claim that their status far exceeds that of Jane’s uncle, because, unlike him, they were born into wealth. Based on these two givens, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley conclude that they have every right to associate with the gentry rather than with the middle class.

Author Austen, however, has a different opinion on that. Through the negative portrayal of the Bingley sisters who are willing to sacrifice the happiness of their brother to gain more status and respect, the Pride and Prejudice readers are warned about social climbers. Their middle-class self- centredness and personal ambition threatens the original rank system in which “birth and not riches is the true (old-style) determinant of class” (Butler “Romantics” 105). Mr. Bingley is also not perceived as a true gentleman, considering that he is called a “gentleman-like” person. He is, however, not portrayed in such a negative manner as his sisters. Firstly, he does not act so proudly like they do. He rather comes across as a humble man with “easy, unaffected manners” (239). Secondly, he is not primarily motivated by improving his own status. He wants to marry Jane, because he really loves her. Since Mr. Bingley’s feelings for Jane are sincere, Austen eventually allows him to re-establish his relationship with the oldest Bennet daughter. By the end of the novel, he thus learns about his sisters’ sabotage and comes to the realisation that Jane truly loves him. He returns to Netherfield where he proposes to his lady. After they got engaged, there is nothing but happiness in the narrative. Yet, it is very likely that Austen is still sceptical about this attachment. By marrying Jane, Mr. Bingley manages to conquer his place among the gentry. It is that kind of social mobility that Austen is afraid of. A genteel person marrying a middle-class nouveau rich endangers the old social system in which the hereditary gentleman is supposed to stand on top of the community.

3.2. William Collins and Charlotte Lucas

According to Copeland, clergyman William Collins is part of the rank that is defined by historian David Spring as the “pseudo-gentry” (128)11. Although he does not belong to society’s highest classes, which are of course the aristocracy and the (landed) gentry, he has a high opinion of himself. That is because he is under the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who is the daughter of an earl. Mr. Collins is so proud of his acquaintance with this aristocratic lady that he constantly brags about it. Lady de Bourgh’s patronage also causes him to believe himself to be superior than his relatives. Naturally, a clergyman ought not to behave in such a haughty manner. He is expected to teach people about Christian principles such as humbleness and charity and most importantly, he is supposed to live up to those values himself. Yet, by focussing on his own well-being, Mr. Collins’s behaviour tends, as Butler

11 By means of that term Spring refers to “a group of upper professional families” who “do not themselves possess the power and wealth invested in the ownership of land, but [who] depend upon earned incomes” (quoted in Copeland 128). Spring highlights that they “are gentry of a sort” for they seek “strenuously to be taken for gentry through the acquisition of the manners, the education and the same markers of station as their landed-gentry neighbours” (quoted in Copeland 128). In other words, they have much in common with the landed genteel people, except that their economic position is more vulnerable, since the loss of profession inevitably means a loss of income as well (Copeland 128).

31 points out, to immorality: “[…] This disposition to think well of the self and ill of others is the opposite of what [is conceived] to be the Christian’s duty” (“Jane Austen” 205-206). Due to his boasting and haughtiness, Mr. Collins is not really loved by the Bennet family. Consequently, when he asks for Elizabeth’s hand, she is not excited, especially when she hears his motives for marriage and for choosing her as his partner. Firstly, the clergyman argues that he wishes to marry “to set the example of matrimony in his parish” (300). Secondly, having a wife “will add very greatly to [his] happiness” (300). A third reason, which he believes he should have mentioned earlier, is that “it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom [he has] the honour of calling patroness” (300). Regarding that last motive, he also remarks that it will be necessary for Elizabeth to temper her “wit and vivacity” with “silence and respect” if she wants to be in a favourable position with Lady de Bourgh (300). Lastly, he tries to persuade Elizabeth to accept his proposal by reminding her that he will inherit her father’s estate and that “one thousand pounds in the four per cents, which will not be [hers] till after [her] mother’s decease, is all that [she] may ever be entitled to” if she does not marry him (300). Firstly, it is conspicuous that Mr. Collins never mentions the words “love” or “feelings” in his proposal, which already indicates that he does not approach Elizabeth because he is attracted to her. That argument is also supported by the fact that he initially intended to ask Jane’s hand instead of Elizabeth’s. Following the lack of emotional attachment in the proposal, it is apparent as well that Collins merely focusses on the advantages of the connection he plans to make. That indicates that he regards matrimony as some kind of “business”, as he calls it himself, in which both partners receive benefits from one another (299). As Mr. Collins argues, he would become a role model for his parishioners by marrying Elizabeth and he would also rise in Lady Catherine’s estimation because he followed her advice. Elizabeth, on the other hand, would be guaranteed that her father’s estate remains in the possession of one of his daughters and on top of that, she would gain an honourable connection for she would be in close contact with his aristocratic patroness. Apart from seeing marriage as a business plan, Mr. Collins’s focus on the benefits of the connection also shows that he is driven by selfish considerations. Secondly, one could also argue that Mr. Collins’s haughtiness surfaces in his proposal. That he believes Elizabeth to be inferior to himself and Lady de Bourgh is already illustrated in the comment he gives on her personality. As seen in the overview of his proposal, he remarks that her wit does not correspond with how someone of decent rank ought to behave (300). She will thus need to alter her behaviour if she marries Mr. Collins for the latter cannot bear the thought of Lady Catherine thinking his wife to be uncivil. Another example that highlights Mr. Collins’s feelings of superiority is the fact that he constantly reminds Elizabeth of her threatening financial situation. If she does not marry Mr. Collins or another suitable man of the gentry, she will face difficulties to support herself, meaning that

she will definitely lose her comfortable life. Following that, he also hints that there are not many men who would be willing to marry a girl with such a disadvantageous economic prospect. He does that by claiming that he is “perfectly indifferent” to fortune and by making the promise that “no ungenerous reproach” about Elizabeth’s risky financial status “shall ever pass [his] lips when [they] are married” (300). By means of those two utterances, Mr. Collins insinuates that other men would take Elizabeth’s low income into account and that they would confront her with it when they are married. Lastly, Mr. Collins’s proposal also shows that he believes that he is offering Elizabeth a rare opportunity and that he is doing her a favour by asking her hand. That his proposal is meant as an act of kindness is shown in his statement that he just as well could have chosen a wife among the “many amiable young women” in his own neighbourhood (300). While hearing Mr. Collins’s proposal, Elizabeth can only conclude that he is “a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man” (317-318). Not interested to listen to the rest of his speech, the Bennet daughter decides to interrupt him. To her, it is already clear that a marriage between them would never work. As discussed, it does not really matter to Mr. Collins whom he marries, as long as the connection turns out to be beneficial for him. Elizabeth, on the other hand, has a different view on matrimony for she does not only regard it as a way of maintaining or improving one’s social status but also as a confirmation of mutual affection. Since this last factor is missing on both Collins’s and Elizabeth’s side, the lady politely turns down Mr. Collins’s proposal. Collins does not feel strongly about the rejection, because he “[thinks] too well of himself to comprehend on what motive his cousin could refuse him” (304). More than that, shortly after his proposal to Elizabeth, he gets engaged to her friend Charlotte Lucas. Elizabeth cannot comprehend that Charlotte is willing to spend the rest of her life with such an obnoxious man. Miss Lucas, however, argues that her insecure financial position is the only reason she needs to marry the vicar:

I am not romantic, you know; I never was. I ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr.

Collins’s character, connection, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of

happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state. (312)

In the novel, Charlotte is portrayed as a twenty-seven-year-old woman who is not handsome. To her, Mr. Collins’s proposal is a relief, for she already started to fear that she would die as “an old maid” (310). She realises that Mr. Collins is “neither sensible nor agreeable”, that his society is “irksome” and that “his attachment to her must be imaginary”, but that would not prevent her from marrying him, because “marriage [has] always been her object” (310). Charlotte understands that matrimony, “however uncertain of giving happiness”, is “the only provision for well-educated young

33 women of small fortune” (310). That is also the reason why Charlotte’s parents immediately give their blessing for this marriage. As they can give but little fortune to their daughter, it is a great relief for them to hear that a man like Mr. Collins proposed to Charlotte. As already briefly mentioned in the chapter on Bingley and Jane, it was indeed the case in Austen’s time that the “suitable marriage partners for young men and women of the upper classes were […] few” (Markley 93). In the case of Charlotte Lucas, it would have even been harder to find a proper husband, because of her lack of wealth and beauty (see previous paragraph). A woman like her could thus only hope to receive a proposal from either a rich aristocrat who does not have to worry about money or status, a well-off merchant or attorney willing to use marriage to buy his way into the gentry, a clergyman or an army officer willing to marry without the prospect of being made rich by his wife (Markley 93). From that point of view, it does make sense that Charlotte did not hesitate when she got the opportunity of marrying Mr. Collins. However, as mentioned before, Austen believed that a connection should not be merely based on financial security. It should also involve feelings of love. That is, however, lacking in Charlotte and Collins’s connection. Their lifestyle illustrates that. It is mentioned in the novel that Charlotte has arranged their home in such a way that she does not see her husband very often. Apart from that, it has also been discussed that Austen is a strong opponent of financial and material greed for she believes that this interferes with moral principle and concern (Evans 17). There are passages in the novel that indicate that Charlotte Lucas is primarily driven by material gain. That greed is, for instance, illustrated in a letter that Charlotte writes to Elizabeth after she moved with her husband to Longbourn. In that correspondence, not one word is uttered about her relationship with Mr. Collins. Instead she focusses on “the house, furniture, neighbourhood and roads” that are “all to her taste” (324). She thus puts the emphasis on the comforts by which she is surrounded. As Charlotte and Collins’s relationship is based on selfishness, Austen condemns this marriage.

3.3. George Wickham and Lydia Bennet

George Wickham is an officer joining the –shire militia regiment that recently quartered near Longbourn. He is introduced as a young man with an appearance “greatly in his favour”, for he has “all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address” (278). As he is generally liked, people consider him to be an upright and honest person. That also applies to Elizabeth Bennet when she hears his story on what has occurred between him and Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth already takes a negative stance towards Mr. Darcy for she believes him to be a haughty and disagreeable gentleman. That prejudice only intensifies when she hears that Darcy has harmed the kind-hearted

Wickham. According to Wickham, Mr. Darcy has robbed him from his part of the inheritance that the late Mr. Darcy promised to him12. Due to Mr. Darcy’s action, he had to give up his dream of becoming a minister, since he could no longer afford it. He argues that he had no other option than joining the army. After hearing that story, Elizabeth first finds this hard to believe, but she quickly concludes that it is “not in her nature to question the veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham” (286). That Elizabeth does not question Wickham’s sincerity is also illustrated in the following statement she makes to her older sister Jane:

I can much more easily believe that Mr. Bingley’s being imposed on, than that Mr. Wickham

should invent such a history of himself as he gave me last night; names, facts, everything

mentioned without ceremony. If it be not so – , let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was

truth in his looks. (287)

Throughout the novel, Elizabeth receives warnings that Wickham might not be such an honourable man as she believes him to be. Miss Bingley, for instance, says that Mr. Darcy “has always been remarkably kind to him” and that it was Wickham who “has treated Mr. Darcy in a most infamous manner” (292). Furthermore, Jane asked Mr. Bingley about the officer and he heard from his aristocratic friend that “Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man” (293). Elizabeth, however, refuses to believe those accusations, because Miss Bingley and Mr. Bingley are too closely connected to Mr. Darcy and would, therefore, speak no ill of him. Next to that, they are possibly influenced by the opinion of the haughty gentleman. As Elizabeth persists in believing that Wickham is a moral person, the flirtations between her and the officer continue. Nevertheless, at a certain moment his attentions for Elizabeth come to an end, because he has met a rich lady, Miss King, who just received a large fortune of ten thousand pounds. Elizabeth is “slightly touched” by this news, but her vanity is “satisfied with believing that she would have been his only choice, had fortune permitted it” (326). It is also mentioned that Elizabeth, “less clear-sighted perhaps in this case than in Charlotte’s, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence. Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural” (326). This description of how Elizabeth perceives the situation already highlights her subjectivity towards the officer. Miss Bennet’s feelings for Wickham and the

12 Wickham and Darcy grew up together. Wickham’s father was the steward and the “most intimate, confidential friend” of the late Mr. Darcy (284). Before Wickham’s father passed away, the late Mr. Darcy promised him that he would provide for his son as he is “his godfather and excessively attached to him” (283). Wickham tells Elizabeth that, originally, the late Mr. Darcy intended to give him money to make sure that he could pursue a profession in church. However, when the gentleman passed away, his will to help Wickham to enter the ministry was disregarded by his son Fitzwilliam Darcy. According to Wickham, he kept the entire inheritance to himself.

35 positive image she has of him prevent her from judging his partner choice like she did with her friend Charlotte Lucas (see previous chapter). As discussed earlier, Elizabeth condemns Charlotte’s marriage to Mr. Collins, because she has put financial security above personal happiness. In the case of Wickham, however, she does not criticise his decision. Moreover, she defends the officer by arguing that his decision is based on a “prudent motive” rather than a “mercenary” motive as her aunt Mrs. Gardiner claims (328). Clearly, Elizabeth keeps defending Wickham. That changes, however, when Elizabeth receives a letter from Mr. Darcy in which he clarifies the events that have taken place between him and Wickham. He informs Elizabeth that he has given Wickham his part of the inheritance and that he has even provided him with an extra sum13. He argues that Wickham wanted to take advantage of his family’s wealth. Wickham continued to ask for more money and when Fitzwilliam refused to give him that, he came up with a plan. He intended to make Darcy’s younger sister Georgiana, who was then fifteen years old, fall in love with him. According to Darcy, “Mr. Wickham’s chief object was unquestionable [his] sister’s fortune, which is thirty thousand pounds” (358). Following that, Darcy also believes that the seduction of his sister was an attempt to take revenge on him. After reading that letter, Elizabeth “grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think, without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd” (361). She realises that she got carried away by her romantic feelings for Wickham. Elizabeth also understands that she relied too much on her individual judgements. She was so certain of Darcy’s disagreeable personality that she believed him to be capable of doing such mischief and she was so charmed by Wickham’s pleasing manners that she never doubted his sincerity. Following that, Elizabeth comes to the realisation that she actually knows nothing about Wickham:

She had never heard of him before his entrance into the –shire Militia, in which he had engaged

at the persuasion of the young man who, on meeting him accidentally in town, had there

renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former way of life nothing had been known in

Hertfordshire but what he told himself. As to his real character, had information been in her

power, she had never felt a wish of inquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had

13 Mr. Darcy explains to Elizabeth that his father provided “a legacy of one thousand pounds” for Wickham to become a clergyman, but that the latter did not want to practice a profession in church (357). Instead, he wanted to study law, which is a far more expensive education. Darcy knew that his father had a good relationship with Wickham and because of that, he decided to give him three thousand pounds extra to finance his law school. Yet, three years later, Darcy got a letter in which Wickham stated that “he had found the law a most unprofitable study” and that he had decided to become a clergyman after all (357). He asked Darcy for more money, but the gentleman did not want to provide for him any longer.

established him at once in the possession of every virtue. […] She could see him instantly

before her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more substantial

good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood, and the regard which his social

powers had gained him in the mess. (360)

The fragment above illustrates that the only knowledge Elizabeth has of Wickham is information that comes from the officer himself. That means that he could easily deceive Elizabeth and lie to her about who he is as a person. Next to that, Miss Bennet also argues that she was influenced by the opinion of the village people who claimed him to be an honourable man. Above that, Elizabeth points out as well that Wickham’s position as an army officer already causes him to stand in high regard. Realising that she actually knows nothing of Wickham, Elizabeth determines that she has never really been in love with him. By arguing that “vanity, not love, has been [her] folly”, the genteel lady eventually admits that she got carried away because Wickham made her feel good (362). Darcy’s letter thus proves that Wickham is not the virtuous person everybody thought he was. That revelation causes Elizabeth to be relieved when she hears that the –shire militia are leaving Meryton. She intends not to see Wickham again, but unfortunately her younger sister Lydia counteracts that plan. Lydia is a ‘self-willed”, “careless”, “ignorant, idle and vain” young lady who ignores all the warnings her older sisters Jane and Elizabeth give on her imprudent behaviour (365). She likes to flirt with the officers, especially with Wickham, for whom she has a soft spot. As she is fond of Wickham, she does not hesitate to join him when he decides to desert his regiment. When the Bennet family hears about their elopement, they fear that Wickham has settled down for Lydia. Especially since his wedding plans with Miss King did not proceed14. Elizabeth, who in the meantime has learned that Wickham only wanted to form an attachment with Miss King because of her fortune, is astonished that the officer would do such a thing, because Lydia is not wealthy. The couple, however, does get married by the end of the novel and Elizabeth finally learns what Wickham’s motives were for leaving his troop and eloping with Lydia. Wickham abandoned the military force because he was “in debt to every tradesman” (413) in Meryton and because he had “debts of honour” with the other officers as a result of lost gambling games15 (415). Unable to stay, the ex-officer realised that “he must go somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew he should have nothing to live on” (430). Therefore, he decided to take advantage of Lydia whom openly showed that she was fond of him.

14 This marriage did not proceed because Miss King decided to move to Liverpool with her uncle. 15 A “debt of honour” is a debt (as one incurred by betting or gambling) which is not recoverable by law but which a debtor is conventionally considered in honour bound to pay (Online Dictionary Merriam-Webster).

Although “Mr. Bennet was not imagined to be very rich”, Wickham knew that the gentleman would be “able to do something for him” (431). Yet, it is also mentioned that he did not intend to marry Lydia immediately, as he “still cherished the hope of more effectually making his fortune by marriage in some other country” (431). He only married that quickly, because of the deal he had with Mr. Darcy. The latter wanted to help out Elizabeth to protect her family’s reputation (see following chapter) and thus searched for Wickham and Lydia himself. He offered to pay Wickham’s debts, which are more than a thousand pounds, to purchase his commission and to give an extra thousand pounds for settling upon Lydia. It was also arranged that Mr. Bennet would pay them “one hundred pounds per annum” and that Lydia would still receive her equal fifth share of the five thousand pounds that is to be distributed among the Bennet daughters after their parents’ decease (417). It thus seems like everything has fallen into place for Wickham and Lydia. Yet, the information that Elizabeth gives in the last chapter of the novel shows that their life is far from being perfect:

It has always been evident to her that such an income as theirs, under the direction of two

persons so extravagant in their wants, and heedless of the future, must be very insufficient to

their support; and whenever they changed their quarters, either Jane or herself were sure of

being applied to for some little assistance towards discharging their bills. Their manner of

living, even when the restoration of peace dismissed them to a home, was unsettled in the

extreme. They were always moving from place to place in quest of a cheap situation, and

always spending more than they ought. His affection for her soon sunk into indifference; hers

lasted a little longer; […]. (471)

This unhappy ending fits within Austen’s conservative views and the message she tries to convey to her genteel readers. Lydia does not get a comfortable life as a consequence of her behaviour which is not appropriate for a genteel lady. Instead of acting responsibly, Lydia maintains her dissolute lifestyle. Next to that, she is also criticised for making a dishonourable connection. As Mrs. Gardiner has pointed out to Elizabeth, Wickham is not a suitable husband for one of the Bennet daughters as he does not have the fortune he ought to have. Moreover, it turns out that he has no wealth at all, which is of course not favourable for a genteel lady like Lydia who will not inherit a large fortune from her parents. Lydia, however, does not think about important matters such as finances and reputation. She merely wants to fulfil her wish of getting married. Now, the lady has to bear the consequences of her decision.

Wickham meets with the same fate. He fails to marry a woman of fortune and ends up struggling to support himself and his genteel wife. He thus gets punished for his ungentlemanly actions (cf. infra). That Austen chooses to introduce such an immoral officer can possibly be explained from a historical perspective. As already mentioned, Austen generally takes a negative stance towards the militia (see chapter 2.5. Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood). It is likely that this attitude is based on the York scandal that has taken place during Austen’s writing years (see chapter 2.5. Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood). Many militia back then were guilty of “sexual corruption as well as political despotism” (Fulford 158). It is said that “the officers were more concerned with enjoying the women impressed by their splendid uniforms than they were with beating Napoleon” (Fulford 160). According to Fulford, it was a “perverted system, which ignored professional competence and rewarded princely and noble vanity” (163). That kind of immoral behaviour is mirrored in the description of Wickham and the –shire militia in general. Instead of defending their country, they engage in activities such as gambling, going to balls and charming young ladies. That Austen perceives the militia as “unreliable romantic partners who may exploit impressionable young women” (Fulford 169) rather than courageous honourable men is, for instance, reflected in Mr. Bennet’s sneering comment “Here are officers enough at Meryton to disappoint all the young ladies in the country” (319). Following that, it can also be argued that the character Wickham is introduced to criticise the “everyday social mobility offered by the new militia” (Fulford 170). As many soldiers and officers were needed to defend the country, the army started to give men “commissions in the local militias without needing ever to have owned a residence in the area” (Fulford 157). This implies that middle-class men were offered a way to acquire social status regardless of their merit or “reputation among those who knew their worth" (Fulford 157). Next to that, they were able to join a regiment far away from their home, where nobody knew them and where they could escape their “past locale and reputation” (Fulford 170). They could, in other words, start a completely different life. That is also the case for the – Shire militia who are transferred to Meryton. Wickham joined that regiment as a new officer. Being “posted away from his home district”, Wickham was able to free himself “from those who knew him and his reputation” (Fulford 157). As Fulford argues, “his very identity was changed: he was now an officer by title, and his previous self and his social status were covered by his gaudy regimental dress” (157). After receiving Darcy’s letter, Elizabeth was, however, “forced to question what lies beneath the polished manners and the sleek uniform” (Fulford 170). It is then that she started to realise that “Wickham is all appearance” and that he managed to flatter “her by his polite exterior” (Fulford 170). According to Fulford, Austen incorporated the hypocritical Wickham because she believed that the militia, as an institution, “seduced too many of her fellow Britons, blurring the difference between true and fake gentlemanliness and giving greater scope than ever before for local vices and weaknesses to grow and move across the country” (175).

3.4. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet

Fitzwilliam Darcy is a handsome aristocratic gentleman with a yearly income of ten thousand pounds. In the novel, he is admired for his wealth, but not for his social conduct. At an assembly, for instance, he refuses to talk to anyone because he considers himself to be “above his company” (239). Due to his anti-social behaviour, he gets the reputation of being ‘the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world” (240). Darcy’s haughtiness is also illustrated in his proposal to Elizabeth. Despite that he truly loves her, he does not really express his feelings. Instead, he keeps dwelling on “her inferiority” and on the fact that an attachment with her would actually be “a degradation” (350). As seen in the chapter on Bingley and Jane, Darcy considers Elizabeth to be inferior, because of her middle-class relatives. When Elizabeth hears his condescending speech, she naturally turns down his proposal. She explains that she cannot accept a man who loves her “against [his] will, against [his] reason, and even against [his] character” (351). Besides that, she also argues that he should learn to behave “in a more gentleman-like manner” (352). According to Elizabeth, his manners have impressed her “with the fullest belief of [his] arrogance, [his] conceit, and [his] selfish disdain of the feelings of others” (353). It is thus clear that Darcy initially represents a gentleman who assumes that his high birth and fortune automatically stand for virtue and integrity (Evans 66). At first, he believes that he is rightfully allowed to act in a haughty manner as he is born in the aristocracy. However, Elizabeth’s remark on his manners makes him realise that wealth and high rank alone do not create respectability. She made him understand that he needs to demonstrate modesty, civility and grace to be regarded as an honourable gentleman:

Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who,

though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable),

allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond

my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world […]. What do I not owe you!

You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly

humbled. (460)

The passage above shows that Darcy was raised by his parents to be proud. He was taught to feel superior and to look down on everybody who is not wealthy and who does not have good connections. That caused Darcy to be prejudiced against Elizabeth and the Gardiners. However, Darcy

eventually discovers that Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are pleasant, kind-hearted people and that integrity does not necessarily correspond with class and wealth. He thus learns to put his pride and prejudices aside. In the fragment above, Darcy admits that his behaviour was not appropriate for a gentleman and argues that he is now “properly humbled” (460). In the novel, it is highlighted that Darcy indeed altered his behaviour after receiving Elizabeth’s critique on his manners. An example that illustrates his morality and kindness is the fact that he secured Lydia’s marriage to Wickham by paying a large sum and that he never requested anything in return. He did not even ask for recognition as the Bennets thought for a long time that Mr. Gardiner was the one who had settled everything. By doing such noble acts for other people besides his own family, Darcy proves himself to be a true gentleman. Darcy is, however, not the only one who is proud and prejudiced at the beginning of the novel. Elizabeth saw Darcy’s haughty behaviour at the assembly and from that moment, his character was decided (cf. supra). Already prejudiced that Darcy is nothing but a snobbish and selfish man, Elizabeth believes Wickham’s story that this gentleman has reduced him to his present state of poverty (see previous chapter). That indicates that Elizabeth thinks Darcy to be capable of such villainy. Next to that, she also considers Darcy to be the main force behind the separation of Bingley and Jane:

[..] He was the cause, his pride and caprice were the cause, of all that Jane had suffered, and

still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a while every hope of happiness for the most

affectionate, generous heart in the world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might

have inflicted. (349)

Those beliefs cause Elizabeth to turn down Darcy’s proposal (cf. supra). Darcy is hurt by the rejection and especially by Elizabeth’s arguments for refusing him. He is disappointed to hear that she has such a bad opinion of him. As mentioned in the previous chapter, he hands over a letter to Elizabeth in which he clarifies everything. He explains what happened between Wickham and himself. He also defends himself regarding Bingley and Jane. He argues that he was aware of the Bingley sisters’ sabotage and that he did not inform his friend about this, because he was questioning the sincerity of Jane’s feelings. As he states himself, Jane always seemed to receive Bingley’s attentions with pleasure, but she never invited them “by any participation of sentiment” (355). Due to her reserve, he believed that Jane did not really love Bingley. He was thus unaware of the fact that Elizabeth’s sister was really hurt by the separation. Lastly, he admits that he was in the wrong by claiming that Elizabeth is far below himself.

Darcy’s letter can be regarded as an eye-opener for Elizabeth, because it makes her realise the flaws of her conduct. She understands that she has been acting haughtily, in the sense that she believed her judgement to be superior to that of others. According to Elizabeth, Darcy’s revelations have “humbled” her (433). She also admits that she has been prejudiced all this time and that her judgements, up until this point, were merely based on first impressions. Elizabeth decides that she will let go of those prejudices and that she will attempt to look at Darcy in a different manner. Soon, she learns that Darcy is actually a caring person. During her stay at Darcy’s estate Pemberley, she hears nothing but praise from one of his employees. Darcy’s housekeeper tells her that the gentleman treats his staff with respect and that he takes good care of his younger sister. Elizabeth’s admiration for Darcy also increases when he helps Lydia (see previous chapter) and when he restores Bingley and Jane’s attachment. He is the one who informs Bingley about the sabotage, who assures him of Jane’s affection and who convinces him to go back to Netherfield to propose. While observing Darcy’s kind-hearted behaviour, Elizabeth feels nothing but gratitude towards him. She is grateful that he “once loved her” and that he has forgiven “all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejections” (395). Towards herself, however, she feels nothing but shame and vexation:

Oh! How heartily did she grieve over every ungracious sensation she had ever encouraged,

every saucy speech she had directed towards him. For herself she was humbled; but she was

proud of him. (433)

The fragment above shows that Elizabeth’s regard of Darcy has altered. Moreover, her feelings are so different from when he proposed that she is hoping on “a renewal of his love” (422). That is, however, beyond the wishes of Mr. Collins’s patroness Lady Catherine. She heard a rumour that there is a chance that Elizabeth and Darcy will soon be engaged. After she received that news, she storms off to Elizabeth. Lady Catherine argues that if Mr. Darcy is to propose to Elizabeth, she may not accept it for “honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest” forbid it that “a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance on the world, and wholly unallied to the family” should marry such a gentleman (451). The aristocratic lady believes as well that Darcy should marry her daughter Anne de Bourgh:

My daughter and my nephew are formed for each other. They are descended on the maternal

side, from the same noble line; and, on the father’s, from respectable, honourable, and

ancient, though untitled families. Their fortune on both sides is splendid. They are destined for

each other by the choice of every member of their respective houses; and what to divide them?

The upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune. (451-452)

The passage above illustrates that Lady Catherine considers Elizabeth to be inferior, which thus also implies that Darcy would make a disadvantageous connection by marrying her. Elizabeth hears that condescension and tries to defend herself by arguing the following: “He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman’s daughter; so far we are equal” (452). She thus emphasises that Darcy and herself both belong to the hereditary gentry. Lady Catherine admits that this is true, but quickly points out her mother’s inferior connection to middle-class people. Elizabeth counteracts that argument by stating that those acquaintances do not form an issue if Darcy “does not object to them” (452). As Miss Bennet refuses to promise that she will not accept Darcy’s hand if he were to ask her, Lady Catherine leaves in anger. Unfortunately for Lady Catherine, her visit to Elizabeth has had the opposite effect, because it has given Darcy the courage to renew his proposal to Miss Bennet. When she recapitulated what Elizabeth said to her, the gentleman did not hear utterances that showed that Miss Bennet is “absolutely, irrevocably decided against” him (458). He knew that Elizabeth “would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly”, if that was the case (458). So with a glimmer of hope, Darcy addresses the subject of his sentiments again to Elizabeth: “If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever” (458). Elizabeth answers that “her sentiments [have] undergone so material a change” that she receives “with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances” (458). Their connection is declared to be an affectionate one as Elizabeth states that they are “the happiest couple in the world” (462). The romance between Elizabeth and Darcy runs as a central thread through the Pride and Prejudice story. Moreover, as the analysis has shown, the core themes “pride” and “prejudice” are based on how those two characters initially behave. Yet, it has been discussed that Darcy and Elizabeth both alter their unfavourable behaviour and that they eventually get married. As Butler points out, this plot and its happy ending fit within a conservative novel. In that genre, marriage “should be, and is, the fulfilment of a personal moral quest” (Butler “Jane Austen” 214). By means of the characters Elizabeth and Darcy, Austen shows that a “close and sceptical analysis of the self” is necessary (Butler “Jane Austen” 215). The protagonists’ plot serves, in other words, the purpose of rebuking “the contemporary doctrine of faith in the individual” (Butler “Jane Austen” 212). Apart from that, Darcy and Elizabeth’s storyline is also meant to remind the genteel people of their responsible leading role in society. The genteel gentlemen and ladies do not only need to be kind-hearted and moral, they also

43 ought to defend the old social system by making an appropriate connection. Darcy and Elizabeth’s relationship functions as a model for they both belong to the hereditary gentry and have financial security. Following that, Austen also uses the protagonists’ connection to highlight the importance of love. That is most likely the reason why the author did not choose to let Darcy wed Anne de Bourgh. Even though that connection would have been more splendid with respect to rank and fortune, the match would not have been ideal due to lack of mutual attraction.

4. Marriage

Marriage (1818) is the first of the three novels written by the Scottish author Susan Ferrier16. In volume one, the readers are introduced to the story of the English gentlewoman Juliana. As the daughter of an earl, she is expected to form an honourable connection with a high-rank person. That is why her father has arranged a marriage between her and the wealthy Duke of L –. Juliana, however, falls in love with Henry Douglas, the son of a Scottish laird who has no fortune of his own. Carried away by her amorous feelings, she decides to disobey her father’s will. She marries Henry and elopes with him to Scotland. Unfortunately for the young couple, the romantic adventure they had in mind soon collapses when they are confronted with the harsh reality of impending poverty. Their economic situation gets even more threatening when Juliana gives birth to twin daughters. Henry’s sister-in-law Mrs. Douglas slightly mitigates their burden by adopting one child, whom she names Mary. Yet, Henry is still unable to provide for himself, his wife and his other daughter, Adelaide. As the laird cannot financially advance them, Henry seeks assistance from his friend General Cameron. With his help, they can afford to move back to London. Nevertheless, Henry and Juliana lead a rather lush lifestyle causing themselves to be in debt. Without further support from the general, they knock on the door of Juliana’s brother Lord Courtland. He absolves them of their debts and puts Henry into a regiment operating in India. The officer asks his wife to join him in that foreign land, but she refuses to leave her beloved country England once again. This separation is the end of Henry and Juliana’s connection. In the second and third volume of Marriage the focus shifts to the two daughters Mary and Adelaide. The former is raised by the kind-hearted Mrs. Douglas who teaches her about Christian virtues such as morality. When Mary falls ill, Mrs. Douglas decides that it might be good for her to be in a different environment. She sends Mary to her mother Lady Juliana, who was staying in Bath at the time. There, Mary meets her twin sister Adelaide, who has a completely different personality as she was raised with the vain and selfish principles of Lady Juliana. During her stay, Mary falls in love with Colonel Lennox, but her mother disapproves of this connection for it is based on love. After her failed love marriage to Henry Douglas, Juliana swore that no daughter of her would make that same mistake. Therefore, she wishes Mary to marry the wealthy Mr. Downe Wright who recently became Lord Glenallan. Mary, however, disregards her mother’s wish and marries the man her heart desires, Colonel Lennox, because, unlike Juliana and Henry, they will be able to support themselves. Adelaide, on the other hand, originally gets acquainted with the poor Lord Lindore, but as she is driven by self- centredness and greed, she breaks off this connection to wed the Duke of Altamont who is far more

16 The others being The Inheritance (1824) and Destiny (1831).

45 prosperous. Her mother is very pleased with this connection, but, unfortunately, Adelaide finds herself very unhappy in her marriage. Consequently, she decides to elope with Lord Lindore after all.

4.1. Lady Juliana and Henry Douglas

Lady Juliana, who was merely seventeen years old at the beginning of the novel, is approached by her father who believes it is time that his daughter starts “thinking of establishing [herself] in the world” (1). As they have completely different views on marriage, a conflict quickly arises. According to the earl, matrimony is a business for people of high birth. To both parties, it serves the purpose of aggrandising their family and extending their political influence (2). He tries to obtain such a beneficial connection for his daughter by forging an alliance with the rich fifty-three-year-old Duke of L –. He is certain that this gentleman is the ideal partner for Juliana, considering that she will receive “a ducal coronet, the most splendid jewels, the finest equipages, and the largest jointure of any woman in England” (3). His daughter, however, objects to this connection, because she does not love the duke. As the lady herself argues, she desires nothing more than “a mere competence with the man of [her] heart” (2). The earl does not want to hear about such sentimental feelings as he believes that “love [is] now entirely confined to the canaille” (4). It is “very well for ploughmen and dairy-maids to marry for love; but for a young woman of rank to think of such a thing, [is] plebeian in the extreme” (4). In the novel, it is emphasised that Ferrier does not agree with the earl’s way of choosing a husband for his daughter. That criticism is, for instance, illustrated in the following fragment:

Her person he had predetermined should be entirely at his disposal; and therefore he

contemplated with delight the uncommon beauty which already distinguished it; not with the

fond partiality of parental love, but with the heartless satisfaction of a crafty politician. (5)

By setting up a connection between Juliana and a duke whom she does not know very well and who is three times her age, the earl takes on the role of a politician rather than of a caring father. According to Ferrier, it is heartless of the gentleman to arrange such an alliance without taking his daughter’s feelings into account. He focuses so much on the material and financial wealth she will obtain as a duchess that he neglects her personal happiness. However, it is important to emphasise that Ferrier does not entirely disagree with the earl either. She believes that one’s choice in partner indeed should be considered carefully as it influences one’s rank and fortune. That is why Juliana’s attachment to “her handsome but penniless lover” Henry Douglass is condemned as well (5).

When Juliana runs off to Scotland with Henry, neither of them consider the economic consequences of their elopement. They just assume that other people will financially support them. Unfortunately for the couple, that turns out not to be the case. Juliana does not manage to obtain her father’s forgiveness, causing her to receive no income from him. Moreover, it is later mentioned in the novel that the earl passed away and that Juliana is not included in his will. Henry, on the other hand, can no longer count on the rich relation of his mother who has always provided for him and who intended to make him his heir17. When Henry’s benefactor heard of his “imprudent marriage” to Juliana, he immediately disinherited him and refused “to listen to any terms of reconciliation” (8). Consequently, the lovers are forced to stay at Glenfern Castle, the property of Henry’s father, and to ask the latter for assistance in the hope of receiving enough money to move back to London. The laird, however, argues that he cannot give them more than one hundred pounds a year, paid quarterly. That sum does not suffice to live a comfortable, genteel life in England. As Copeland points out, it merely allows them to hire one “young maidservant, and that at a very low wage” (130-131). To help them out more, the old Mr. Douglas then offers them the nearby located Clackandow Farm, which recently became vacant due to the owner’s passing. He will also advance them the livestock, the farming implements and the buildings. The laird is proud that he was able to arrange this, because with good management, the farm will provide them with an annual income of over two hundred pounds. Henry and Juliana, however, take issue with this plan for that income is still not large enough to live among the upper classes in London. It also is not the ideal occupation for Henry as he is “ignorant of country matters” (68). Above that, the pastoral life does not suit “Lady Juliana’s rank and beauty” (69). The couple thus turns down the laird’s offer, but that still leaves them in a precarious financial position. Furthermore, their economic prospect becomes even worse, when Juliana delivers twin daughters into the world:

The birth of twin daughters awakened the young father to a still stronger sense of total

dependence and extreme helplessness of his condition. Yet how to remedy it he knew not: to

accept his father’s proposal was out of the question, and it was equally impossible for him,

were he ever so inclined, to remain much longer a burden on the narrow income of the Laird

of Glenfern. (124)

17 The novel does not contain more information, thus the name of Henry’s benefactor remains unknown.

Luckily for the two lovers, their future starts to look a bit more promising when Mrs. Douglas decides to take care of the weakest baby who needs the most attention and nursing. Apart from that, the couple also receives the news that they can count on the help of Henry’s “friend and patron of his youth General Cameron” (124). Although the general strongly disapproves of Henry’s marriage to “a lady of quality”, he decides to assist them by reinstating Henry in his former position as a military officer and by offering them a yearly allowance of seven hundred pounds (124). That income causes them to be as fortunate as “the most prosperous pseudo-gentry families” in England (Copeland 131). However, that sum still does not allow them to purchase all the carriages and servants that they want. Unfortunately, Juliana and Henry spend more money than their income allows, because they are convinced that they will inherit the general’s fortune as he has no children of his own. Consequently, when they move to London, Juliana has “bright prospects of future happiness, and endless plans of expense” (128). She spends a lot of money on unnecessary luxuries, such as expensive hammer-cloths and porcelain ware. The general looks at this extravagant lifestyle with contempt and warns Henry that they cannot go on like this:

You know, I am not on ceremony with you; and, if I refrain from saying what you see I think,

about your present ruinous mode of life, it is not to spare your feelings, but from a sense of

the uselessness of any such remonstrance. What I do give you is with good will; but all my

fortune would not suffice to furnish pug-dogs, and deformed tea-pots, for such a vitiated taste;

and if it would, hang me if it should. (135-136)

Despite the general’s warning, the couple continues to live in such an excessive manner, until they hit rock bottom. After Juliana gave birth to their son Edward Douglas, they send a letter to Cameron to spread the news. His response, however, contains some disturbing information. The general answers that he is about to marry the young daughter of his steward and that he hopes “by this time twelvemonth”, it “will be [his] turn to communicate to [them] a similar event in [his] family” (147). Following that, he states that ten thousand pounds will be secured to Henry and Juliana’s children and that he will continue to give them that seven-hundred-pound allowance. However, he mentions as well that this is all they can expect from him, which implies that Henry will not inherit his fortune. Hearing this news, Henry starts to worry about “the debts he had contracted on the faith and credit of being the general’s heir” (148). As he cannot repay the people whom he owes money, he finds himself “daily beset by creditors of every description” (149). Eventually, “the final blow came” (149):

“Horses – carriages – everything they could call their own, were seized. The term for which they held the house was expired, and they found themselves on the point of being turned into the street” (149). After they lost everything, the couple is saved from homelessness by Juliana’s brother Lord Courtland, also known as the Earl of Courland, who is able to offer them lodgement in his apartments. Besides providing them with a roof over their head, the earl also helps them out when Henry gets arrested for being a debtor. Lord Courtland secures his brother-in-law’s release, takes upon himself “the discharge of his debts” and gets him into a regiment “under orders for India” (154). This means that their financial problems are finally solved. Nevertheless, the couple does not spend the rest of their lives happily ever after as Juliana refuses to join Henry in India. She argues that she has already sacrificed enough by accompanying him to Scotland when they were younger. Apart from that, her spouse cannot “be so barbarous and absurd as to think of her leaving all her friends, and going to live amongst savages” (155). When Henry hears his wife utter those words, he does not part on friendly terms: “The pride of the man, as much as the affection of the husband, was irritated by this resistance to his will; and a violent scene of reproach and recrimination terminated in an eternal farewell” (155). Ferrier makes her characters struggle intensely and refuses to give them the happy ending they originally expected from their attachment, to warn her readers of the dangers of forming a connection that is merely based on love. Just like Austen, Ferrier believes that mutual attraction is important (see the author’s criticism on the connection Juliana’s father set out with the duke), but one also has to take class and fortune into account (see the following chapters as well). The former aspect does not form a problem in Juliana and Henry’s attachment, because they both belong to the upper classes. Juliana is born into the aristocracy and Henry in the hereditary landed gentry. It merely seems as if Henry’s relatives are far below Juliana on the social ladder due to the genteel lady’s prejudices and the abhorrence she constantly utters for her husband’s family. Juliana is used to the big city of London, but when she arrives at Glenfern Castle, she finds herself in a remote rural district. That kind of environment is not good enough for the fashionable and city-dwelling Juliana who is accustomed to be surrounded by villas, conservatories and summer-houses. The real problem of Henry and Juliana’s connection lies in the fact that neither of them has parents who are able to bestow a large sum on their children. As mentioned, Henry’s father wants to help them, but he simply does not have the means to advance them. Juliana’s father, on the other hand, states in the beginning of the novel that he cannot give her a fortune, which is also the reason why he wants to arrange an alliance with a wealthy duke. Juliana and Henry are thus both in a tight spot, which makes it not ideal to marry one another. Instead of waiting until they have gathered the necessary financial means, like Elinor Dashwood and Edward Ferrars did, the couple decides to wed immediately. That decision is condemned by Ferrier for they risk getting “uncomfortably close to the possibility of becoming poor and consequently far removed from” genteel society (Evans 6).

Another aspect that Ferrier shares with Austen is that she also conveys the message that it is part of the gentry’s social responsibility to set a good example to the other members of the community. She does that by criticising Juliana and Henry’s immoral behaviour. When the genteel couple finally receives some financial security, they do not save the money: they immediately think about spending it on unnecessary, expensive things. It is mentioned that “birth-day dresses, fêtes, operas, equipages, and state liveries, whirled in rapid succession through Lady Juliana’s brain, while clubs, curricles, horses, and claret, took possession of her husband’s mind” (126). Just like Austen, Ferrier criticises such a luxurious lifestyle, because this is a token of greedy behaviour. From that perspective, Juliana and Henry are no better than the egoistic and materialistic Fanny Ferrars and John Dashwood. Ferrier’s condemnation of genteel people who value material wealth more than moral responsibility is reflected in the unfavourable ending of Henry and Juliana’s connection. As discussed above, Ferrier chooses to end the narrative with the loss of their financial security, the confiscation of all their possessions and Henry’s mandatory leave to India. Apart from that, Ferrier also proves herself to be a conservative like Austen by criticising sensibility. Henry and Juliana’s connection is based on sensibility, because they both got carried away by the fantasies and “ardour of romantic passion” like Marianne Dashwood did when she fell for Willoughby (111). That their connection is founded on purely physical attraction is, for instance, illustrated by the fact that Juliana and Henry did not know each other very well at the time they eloped together:

At the end of two months, however, the enamoured husband began to suspect, that the lips

of his ‘angel Julia’ could utter very silly things; while the fond bride, on her part, discovered,

that though her ‘adored Henry’s’ figure was symmetry itself, yet it certainly was deficient in a

certain air – a je ne sçais quoi – that marks the man of fashion. (5-6)

After being married for a while, both of them understand that they made a mistake. Henry begins to realise that Juliana might not be the woman of his dreams as it turns out that she mostly acts out of “excessive folly” (137). Juliana, on the other hand, understands that she believed herself to be in love due to the romantic illusions she had. When she eloped with Henry, she thought that they would live a comfortable life in Scotland without the need to worry about duty. That is why she declared to her lover that she would prefer a desert with him “to a throne with another” (18). However, Juliana soon admits that, at that time, she “did not very well know what a desert was” (18). She “had formed rather a different idea on it” (18):

I had fancied it a beautiful place, full of roses and myrtles, and smooth green turf, and

murmuring rivulets, and though very retired, not absolutely out of the world; where one could

occasionally see one’s friends, and give dejeunés et fêtes champetres. (18)

By introducing a couple who sees their romantic ideas being shattered by the harsh realities, Ferrier tries to convey the same conservative message as Austen, namely that one should never neglect his or her duties in the pursuit of romantic aspirations. Lastly, it can be argued that Ferrier’s conservative views are also reflected in the criticism she delivers on her character Juliana in particular, because her conduct does not at all correspond with that of a gentlewoman. It has already been mentioned that she is guilty of material greed and excessive sensibility in the form of romantic idealism. However, it is important to note that she also suffers from too much sensibility in the sense of displaying “unmeasured, extravagant emotion” (Manning 80). In the novel, it is stressed that Juliana reacts overly strongly to the world she encounters. Similarly to Austen, Ferrier attempts to show her readers that the excessive display of feelings endangers the moral values of the old social order, because it often leads to unkindness and anti-social behaviour. Just like Marianne Dashwood, Juliana does not appreciate the help of others for she is too occupied with her own individualistic feelings. It is stated in the novel that the Douglas ladies, Miss Jacky, Miss Grizzy and Miss Nicky, do everything in their power to make sure that Juliana feels welcome and that she is comfortable. The genteel lady, however, never expresses gratitude towards them for their hospitality. Instead, she keeps sobbing and exclaiming that she wants to be taken away from that place. Her husband Henry is left “mortified, ashamed, and provoked, at a behaviour so childish and absurd” (13). Following that, Juliana is also criticised for being driven by the self-centredness of the new social order. Unlike Elinor Dashwood, who cares about other people’s well-being, Juliana merely focuses on her own happiness. That is, for instance, emphasised when she arrives at her brother’s place. His wife just eloped with a lover and left him with some large debts. Juliana, however, never expresses compassion towards Lord Courtland. On the contrary, she claims that this event is very “fortunate” because now she can lodge in the luxurious apartments that were originally intended for her brother’s former spouse Lady Lindore (150). Another example that highlights Juliana’s self-centredness is the fact that she refuses to act as a responsible parent when her twin daughters are born. She calls them ugly, cannot bear their crying and screaming and she does not want to breastfeed them. Moreover, she does not want to have her children near her, for she keeps exclaiming that someone has to take them away and that she wishes to have no more babies. In short, Juliana sees the birth of her daughters as a burden to her life, because they demand a lot of time and attention, which the selfish mother is not willing to give.

4.2. Adelaide Douglas and Lord Lindore

Eighteen years have passed now since Juliana and Henry’s separation. Unfortunately, the genteel lady has not become wiser “by the added years and increased experience” (183):

Lady Juliana had fallen into an error, very common with wiser heads than hers – that of

mistaken the effect for the cause. She looked no farther than to her union with Henry Douglas,

for the foundation of all her unhappiness – it never once occurred to her, that her marriage

was only the consequence of something previously wrong; she saw not the headstrong

passions that had impelled her to please herself – no matter at what price. She thought not of

the want of principle – she blushed not at the want of delicacy, that had led her to deceive a

parent, and elope with a man to whose character she was a total stranger. She therefore

considered herself as having fallen a victim to love; and could she only save her daughter from

a similar error, she might yet by her means retrieve her fallen fortune. To implant principles of

religion and virtue in her mind, was not within the compass of her own; but she could scoff at

every pure and generous affection – she could ridicule every disinterested attachment – and

she could expatiate on the never fading joys that attend on wealth and titles, jewels and

equipages – and all this she did in the belief that she was acting the part of a most wise and

tender parent. (186)

The passage above highlights that Lady Juliana fails to understand that her own personality actually caused the events that have taken place between her and Henry. She does not blame herself for the misfortunes that happened to her, she ascribes it all to the fact that she married for love. As Juliana chooses to be ignorant of her negative character traits, she raises her daughter with those same selfish and greedy principles:

The seed, thus carefully sown, promised to bring forth an abundant harvest. At eighteen,

Adelaide Douglas was as heartless and ambitious as she was beautiful and accomplished – but

the surface was covered with flowers, and who would have thought of analysing the soul?

(186-187)

That Adelaide shares the unkindness of her mother is, for instance, illustrated in the first meeting she has with her sister Mary after been separated for eighteen years. Mary is pleased to be reunited with her sister after all this time and wants to express her happiness by embracing her. Mary’s cordiality is, however, not appreciated by the cold-hearted and reserved Adelaide. The latter merely “felt awkward and embarrassed” by it, because her “selfishness and vanity” makes her “incapable of loving anything in which self had no share” (229). In short, Adelaide does not feel the need to act kindly towards her sister, because she believes that she cannot benefit from this acquaintance. Adelaide’s self-centredness and ambition are also displayed in the motive she has for seducing her cousin Lord Lindore, the son of Juliana’s brother Lord Courtland. He is described as “an elegant looking young man” with an amiable personality (274). However, his portrayal is not entirely positive as it is also stated that he is a bit flighty and that “he admires none but les dames Mariées” (280). Yet, that does not prevent Adelaide from trying ‘to captivate and secure the heart of her cousin” (280). On the contrary, in the mind of the lady, Lord Lindore’s flirtatious character “increase[s] his consequence, and enhance[s] his value”, because “it would be no vulgar conquest to fix and reform one who was notorious for his inconstancy and libertine principles” (280). An attachment with him would, in other words, favour her reputation for she would be known as a lady who convinced a self-indulgent man to give up his loose life and settle down. However, Adelaide’s focus soon shifts from Lord Lindore to the Duke of Altamont. The latter pays much attention to Mary and Adelaide, driven by “pride, envy and ambition”, cannot not bear the thought that her sister who is “so inferior to herself” would attain “a more splendid alliance” (317). Consequently, she breaks off her relationship with the handsome but poor Lindore to marry the dull duke who has a yearly income of ninety thousand pounds (318). With her husband’s sum, which is nine times larger than that of the wealthiest Austen character Mr. Darcy (see appendix), Adelaide finds herself “surrounded with all that rank, wealth, and fashion [can] bestow” (426). Despite all the wealth and grandeur, the duchess is not happily married, for it is stated that she “most heartily hated and despised the man she had so lately vowed to love and obey” (396). She is bound to a husband who does not want to engage in any of the activities that she likes and who refuses to listen to any of her wishes. Due to the lack of domestic happiness, Adelaide begins to question if she made the right decision by marrying the duke. Her doubts and regrets increase even more when she beholds Lord Lindore’s popularity:

Ambition had led her to marry the Duke, and that same passion now heightened her

attachment for Lord Lindore; for, as someone has remarked, ambition is not always the desire

for that which is in itself excellent, but for that which is most prized by others; and the

handsome Lord Lindore was courted and caressed in circles, where the dull, precise Duke of

Altamont was wholly overlooked. (431)

As the passage above illustrates, there is a marked contrast between the duke and Lindore. The former is regarded as tiresome company while the latter is considered a pleasant man to converse with. When Adelaide notices that her ex-love interest and not her husband is “the admired of all admirers” (431), her vanity and ambition takes over once more. Vainly hoping to find “happiness in the gratification of her own headstrong passions”, Adelaide leaves her spouse to elope with Lord Lindore (432). The duke, overcome with feelings of dishonour and revenge, does not let that happen without consequences. It is said that “he immediately set about taking the legal measures for avenging it; and [that] damages were awarded, which would have the effect of rendering Lord Lindore for ever an alien to his country” (433). As their public image in England is ruined, the couple is forced to move to the south of France, where Adelaide finds herself in a state of “melancholy and discontent” (451). The lady expected that she would be ensured of Lindore’s “boundless gratitude and adoration”, since she left the wealthy duke for him (451). Unfortunately for her, that is just “a delusive dream”, because in reality, she finds herself “friendless in a foreign land – an outcast from society – an object of indifference, even to him for whom she had abandoned all” (451). This unhappy ending is the result of Adelaide’s immoral conduct. Despite the lady’s claims that she married the Duke of Altamont out of duty (364), it is clear that this alliance was purely based on envy, the want of fortune and the wish to obtain the title of duchess. Regarding Lord Lindore, Adelaide argues several times in the novel that she loves him. Nevertheless, it is rather ambiguous whether her feelings can be defined as amorousness. When she first met Lindore, she already declared, after having one glance at him, that “her cousin was worthy of falling in love with her” (273). This utterance is, however, merely based on Lindore’s appearance, for she did not yet know his personality back then. When she eventually does learn about his character, which appears not to be appealing, she decides to form an attachment with him out of self-interest. That, together with her marriage to the wealthy duke and the fact that the restoration of her alliance with Lindore is based on self-centredness as well, causes her motives to be questionable. It rather seems as if Adelaide confuses love with vanity. Whatever the nature of Adelaide’s feelings may be, it cannot be denied that selfishness and personal ambition govern her actions. Naturally, this kind of behaviour is unacceptable. It endangers moral

principle and forms a serious threat to the old social order. From that perspective, Adelaide’s banishment from her own country serves as a warning about the consequences of egotism and individualism, for it shows that the community will definitely decay if the social leaders act in such a depraved manner.

4.3. Mary Douglas and Colonel Lennox

Mary, born as the weakest twin, was neglected by her mother Juliana. Unlike her twin sister Adelaide, she is raised by her aunt Mrs. Douglas who educates her with “the purest principles of religion” and “the duties of morality” (158). There is, however, one lesson that Mrs. Douglass cannot teach her pupil, because she has to learn it from experience itself (222). The youthful spirit of Mary still needs to learn to surpass that “beau-idéal of a young and ardent imagination” and to accept the reality that life can be harsh (178). That Mary has not yet acquired that knowledge is, for instance, illustrated by the fact that she feels strongly for her grandfather’s death, even though she was never close to him:

She had heard and read, and thought, and talked of death; but it was death in its fairest form

– in its softest transition: and the veil had been abruptly torn from her eyes; the gloomy pass

had suddenly disclosed itself before here, not strewed with flowers, but shrouded in horrors.

(177)

Mrs. Douglas, seeing Mary suffer from excessive sensibility, suggests that the lady should change surroundings for a while. Therefore, she sends Mary to her relatives Juliana and Adelaide. Mary is very excited about this, because she can only think of “the happiness that [awaits] her in a re-union with her mother and sister” (222). Again, she gives herself up “to the blissful reveries” of her youthful fantasies, but those quickly get shattered when she arrives (222). Juliana and Adelaide do not treat her with the expected kindness, but rather act coldly towards her. “Mary’s blood [rushes] back to her heart” and her eyes start to fill up with tears when she observes their unkind behaviour (225). This sentimental reaction shows that, at this stage in the novel, Mary is still struggling to control her emotions. Nevertheless, in the course of the narrative, it becomes clear that Mary does not allow herself to get carried away by sensibility. Much like Marianne Dashwood, she begins to understand the necessity of governing her emotions and lets go of those ideas of sentimental idealism. Consequently, she no longer reacts in an excessive hurtful manner to her mother’s and sister’s coldness, she accepts

55 that this is simply their nature. After acquiring that insight, Mary is portrayed as a virtuous upper-class lady, because she now meets all the expectations of a member of the gentry. Not only does she possess the strength of self-control, she is also driven by moral concern, due to the honourable education she received from Mrs. Douglas. That Mary lives by the ethics that dominate the old social order is, for instance, illustrated in her partner-choice. As already mentioned in the previous chapter, the wealthy Duke of Altamont originally had his eyes set on Mary. She refuses to marry this gentleman, because she is not attracted to him. According to Mary, an attachment should be based on “esteem, similarities of tastes and sympathy of feelings” (320-321). An alliance with the duke would conflict with her principles, as she regards him as an “old, stupid, formal” man of “more than double her age” with whom she has nothing in common (319):

Can you suppose I would so far forfeit my honour and truth as that I would swear to love,

honour, and obey, where I could feel neither love nor respect; and where cold constrained

obedience would be all of my duty I could hope to fulfil? (319)

By declining the prosperous duke, Mary shows that she is not motivated by financial gain. The same can be said when she turns down William Downe Wright. Juliana tries to set up an alliance between her daughter and this weak but handsome young gentleman, because he is wealthy. He earns ten thousand pounds a year from his own estate and receives “an additional fifteen thousand pounds per annum” by becoming Lord Glenallan (382). Unfortunately for Juliana, who merely thinks of “her own aggrandisement” (360), Mary opposes attachments which are merely based on wealth and grandeur . She wants to find felicity “in the cultivation of the domestic virtues – the peaceful joys of a happy home, and a loved companion” (382). That is, however, impossible with Mr. Wright, since he is “a stranger to her” (346):

Juliana: “[…] I know that he is a man of family and fortune; […] uncommonly handsome, and

remarkably sensible and well-informed. I can’t conceive what more you wish to know!”

Mary: “I would wish to know something of his character – his principles – his habits – temper,

talents – in short, all those things on which my happiness would depend”. (346)

There is only one man who catches Mary’s attention and that is Colonel Charles Lennox. As she often visits his blind and weak mother, she occasionally sees him there. Originally, there is no mutual

attraction between them, for they do not know each other very well. That changes, however, when they start conversing, walking together and seeing each other on a more regular basis. Gradually, Colonel Lennox’s character unfolds itself and Mary sees much to admire in it. Moreover, she discovers that his “turn of mind [is] so similar to her own” (360-361). Charles, on the other hand, does no longer merely look upon Mary “as an amiable sweet-tempered girl” (342-343). He has now “formed a higher estimate of her character, and a spark [is] kindled that [wants] but opportunity to blaze into a flame” (343). Although, they are clearly attracted to one another, they do not immediately become a couple, because Mary is suspicious of the colonel’s feelings. She once overheard a conversation between Mrs. Lennox and her son, in which the former was recommending her as the ideal suitor for him. Consequently, she considers his attentions “rather as acts of duty towards his mother, than as the spontaneous expression of his own attachment” (386). Yet, after having a further reflexion on the colonel’s personality, Mary realises that it is not in his nature to pretend that he is in love with her, only to please his mother. When he then repeats “his vows of unalterable affection”, Mary feels that she is justified in receiving them (406). Juliana, however, objects to this connection for the following two reasons: it is based on love and it is not the most splendid alliance, considering that Colonel Lennox is not as prosperous as the Duke of Altamont or as Mr. Wright. Despite her mother’s disapproval, Mary proceeds her wedding plans, since she does not aspire to belong to the wealthiest upper-class people:

Colonel Lennox’s fortune was small; but such as it was, it seemed sufficient for all the purposes

of rational enjoyment. Both were aware that wealth is a relative thing, and that the positively

rich are not those who have the largest possession, but those who have the fewest vain or

selfish desires to gratify. From these they were happily exempt. Both possessed too many

resources in their own minds to require the stimulus of spending money to rouse them into

enjoyment, or give them additional importance in the eyes of the world; and, above all, both

were too thoroughly Christian in their principles, to murmur at any sacrificed of privations they

might have to endure in the course of their earthly pilgrimage. (445)

The passage above already highlights that Ferrier approves of this connection, because it is not only based on the moral concepts of love and mutual respect, it is also well-considered regarding wealth. Mary and Charles do not wish to be surrounded by superfluous luxuries, they merely desire to lead a simple, comfortable life amongst the gentry. Eventually, the couple suits the action to the word, when their “narrow” income unexpectedly turns into a very high one due to the fact that Colonel

Lennox suddenly becomes heir of the Maclaughan estate Lochmarie18, a property that provides them with an annual income of seven thousand pounds (180). Despite now officially being part of the most prosperous members of the gentry (see appendix to compare with the richest Austen characters), they still do not let themselves get carried away by grandeur. On the contrary, they prove themselves to be moral social leaders as they use their wealth to help out other people in the community:

The extensive influence which generally attends upon virtue joined to prosperity, was used by

them for its best purposes. It was not confined either to rich or poor, to cast or sect; but all

shared in their benevolence whom that benevolence could benefit. And the poor, the sick, and

the desolate, united in blessing what heaven had already blesses – this happy Marriage. (468)

In conclusion, Mary and Colonel Lennox’s attachment is based on all the principles of the old social order and therefore serves the purpose of setting an example to Ferrier’s genteel readers. Nevertheless, it is important to emphasise that there is an ambiguity in Mary and Charles’s connection. Similar to Colonel Brandon, it is apparent that Charles Lennox is described as a “gentleman-like” person (361), even though his position as a colonel should suffice to qualify as a gentleman during the mid- eighteenth – and early nineteenth century. The reason why Lennox is not being referred to as a gentleman is because Ferrier shares Austen’s sceptical view on the army. Although Colonel Lennox is portrayed as a kind-hearted moral being, it cannot be denied that the novel contains several passages in which the readers are presented with a more negative image of the military men. Mary’s cousin Lady Emily Lindore argues, for instance, that militia officers “are capable of passion, but not of love” (320), while William Downe Right’s mother claims that the army is “a poor trade” (440) and that she “never knew a military man but what must have his bottle of port everyday” (438). Considering that

18 This note is meant to provide some additional background information on the relationship between the families of Lennox and Maclaughan and how it comes that Colonel Lennox is heir to a Maclaughan estate. Due to a past family feud (461), the Lennoxes and the Maclaughans regard each other as enemies (460). For generations, the Lennoxes have been excluded from inheriting the Maclaughan properties until “the power of alienating […] was vested in Sir Sampson, as the last remaining heir of the entail” (461). The latter, who is a close acquaintance of the Douglases, continued the feud by banning General Lennox, Charles’s father, and his family from the possibility of inheriting the Maclaughan estates even though the general “was next in succession” (461). Sampson’s wife, Lady Maclaughan, however, did not support this grudge. She “contrived to prevent [her husband] from ever executing a new entail” (462) by sending Mary to Mrs. Lennox’s house to deliver a letter, hoping that this would lead to Miss Douglas meeting Charles and falling in love with him. She wishes Mary to form an attachment with Colonel Lennox, because this connection would put Sampson in a difficult position. It would be hard for him to exclude Mary and her husband from the property to which they are entitled, considering that he is on such close terms with the Douglases. Eventually, it turns out that Lady Mclaughan’s plan worked, for it is announced that Mary and Colonel Lennox are engaged. Naturally, Sampson opposes this attachment, but he cannot prevent this marriage from happening as it is stated that he passes away on their wedding day. Consequently, the Maclaughan estate Lochmarie becomes Colonel Lennox’s possession.

Ferrier specifically broaches the flirtatious and hedonistic behaviour of the militia might indicate that, just like Austen, she was aware of the York scandal (see 2.5. Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood) and the corruption that was taking place in the army during her lifetime.

5. The Inheritance

In her second novel The Inheritance (1824), Ferrier tells the story of Gertrude St. Clair who becomes heiress to the Rossville estates in Scotland. Her father passed away and her uncle, the present Lord Rossville, has no children of his own. After Gertrude and her mother, Mrs. Sarah St. Clair, take up residence in the Rossville castle, a conflict soon arises between the young lady and her uncle. Lord Rossville plans to wed his niece to Member of Parliament Robert Delmour. The sole purpose of this alliance is to increase the power and influence of the Rossville family. Gertrude, however, refuses to be forced into a loveless marriage. Instead, she falls in love with the brother of Mr. Delmour, Colonel Frederick Delmour. Her relatives and guardian Edward Lyndsay are not pleased with that connection for they know this man to be an egoistic and ambitious person. Unfortunately, Gertrude fails to see sense and continues her romance with Colonel Delmour. While the young lady is fantasising about a romantic life with her lover, Mr. Lyndsay tries to keep Gertrude’s feet on the ground by reminding her of the responsibilities she has as a member of the gentry. He stimulates Miss St. Clair to behave in a moral manner, but regrettably, the immoral Colonel Delmour has more control over her. When Gertrude becomes heiress of the Rossville property, he accompanies her to the fashionable city of London where she adopts an abundant lifestyle. Yet, the carefree life that Gertrude has in mind as Countess of Rossville soon comes to an end when a vulgar man called Lewiston reveals a secret regarding her identity. It turns out that she is not the daughter of the Rossville relative Thomas St. Clair and his wife Sarah Black. She is the child of Lewiston’s cousin Jacob, an American trader, and Marian La Motte, who was always said to be her nurse. As it appears that Gertrude is not really related to the Rossville family, she loses her position as countess. The estates are left to Mr. Robert Delmour, who died shortly after becoming Lord Rossville, leaving his brother Colonel Delmour as successor. When Gertrude’s lover receives the news that his lady is actually of low birth and that the Rossville estates, which he always desired, are bequeathed to him, he breaks off his connection with her. After losing everything, Gertrude realises that she has wronged many people with her immoral behaviour, especially Mr. Lyndsay who has always sincerely cared for her. She finally understands that, all this time, he has been the one who supports and protects her. As she acknowledges his admirable nature, she gradually lets this kind and generous man into her heart. Eventually Gertrude and Lyndsay get married and as the latter inherits the Rossville properties, after Colonel Delmour’s passing, the lady is restored as countess.

5.1. Sarah Black and Thomas St. Clair

IT is a truth, universally acknowledged, that there is no passion so deeply rooted in human

nature as that of pride. Whether of self or of family, of deeds done in our bodies, or deeds

done in the bodies of those who lived hundreds of years before us – all find some foundation

on which to build their Tower of Babel. (1)

By means of this opening sentence, clearly inspired by the one of Pride and Prejudice (see 3.1. Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet), Ferrier announces the conflict between Thomas St. Clair and his aristocratic relatives. Mr. St. Clair is about to marry “the humble Miss Sarah Black, a beautiful girl of obscure origin and no fortune” (1). As that description already indicates, Miss Black is inferior to Mr. St. Clair, who is born as the “youngest son of the Earl of Rossville” (1). Consequently, Thomas’s family members oppose to his matrimonial plans. The young gentleman, however, disregards their wish and Miss Sarah Black becomes Mrs. St. Clair. This unequal alliance inflicts a wound so “deep and incurable” on the Rossvilles’s “family pride” that Thomas and his wife are given the cold shoulder (1). Mr. St. Clair still attempts to reconcile with his relatives, but his efforts are in vain. Eventually, Thomas consents to move away to France, on the condition that his family provides him and his wife with “a suitable allowance” as long as they remain abroad (1). However, once arrived in France, the couple realises that they cannot really count on financial support to improve their situation. The only hope left for Thomas is that his father will leave him something when he passes away. Unfortunately, when that moment comes, it turns out that he is disinherited:

His father’s death, which happened some years after, made no alteration in his circumstances.

The patrimony to which he expected to succeed was settled on his children, should he have

any, and a slender life annuity was his only portion. (2)

They can thus only restore themselves if they produce an heir to the Rossville estates, as Thomas’s brother, who is now Earl of Rossville, separated from his wife and is left childless19. Shortly after they receive that news, Mrs. St. Clair comes up with a plan. During their exile in France, they got

19 It is stated in the novel that “Mr. St. Clair had been the youngest of five sons; but [that] three of his brothers had fallen victim to war, or pestilence, and [that] there now only remained the present Earl and himself, both alike childless” (2).

acquainted with a woman named Marian La Motte, who is in a dire situation. Her husband, Jacob Ruxton Lewiston, left on an overseas-mercenary mission in the hope of gathering some fortune to support himself and his wife. He has been gone for such a long time that Marian fears he perished at sea. Marian is alone in France without an income, in poor health and heavily pregnant. Seeing this poor woman’s state, Mrs. St. Clair suggests to her husband and Marian to adopt the baby as she and Mr. St. Clair are in need of a child. After repeatedly pleading her case, she eventually gets “them to co-operate in [her] schemes” (458). Her husband probably consents because he wishes to reconcile with his family, Marian most likely to save the life of her child as she herself does not possess the means to provide for her infant. Thus seven months after Mr. St. Clair heard about his disinheritance, he and his wife are given a baby girl, whom they name Gertrude. Luckily for Mrs. St. Clair, the sex of the child does not interfere with her plan, as the “Salique law [is] not in force in the Rossville family” (2)20. Pursuing her scheme, Mrs. St. Clair informs the Earl of Rossville that she and her husband are the proud parents of Gertrude, but to avoid suspicion that they have a child so soon, she tells him that their daughter is born prematurely. Lastly, to prevent the earl from worrying about Gertrude’s so-called dangerous condition, the lady fools him into believing that she has found a great nurse called Marian who takes excellent care of her:

Its health and strength were, therefore the chief objects of consideration, and, although born

in the seventh month, it was a remarkably fine thriving baby, which Mrs. St. Clair, contrary to

the common practice of mothers, ascribed entirely to the excellence of its nurse. They had

been fortunate enough to meet a woman of superior class, who, having recently lost her

husband and her own infant, had readily adopted this one, and as readily transferred to it that

abundant stock of love and tenderness which those dealers in the milk of human kindness

always have so freely to bestow on their nursling for the time. (3)

When Lord Rossville hears that his brother and sister-in-law became parents, he insists on having “the little Gertrude transmitted to him, [so] that she might have the advantage of being trained up under his own eye” (3). As this suggestion endangers Mrs. St. Clair’s intention to improve her own situation, she refuses the offer. The lady argues that she and her husband do not desire to separate from their child and state that they will come over as a family when her own health is “sufficiently re-

20 “The Salique law” is a rule held to derive from the legal code of the Salic Franks excluding females from the line of succession to a throne (Online Dictionary Merriam-Webster).

63 established” (3). However, “some obstacle, real or pretended, always [arises] to prevent the accomplishment of this plan”, until eventually Mr. St. Clair becomes paralysed and cannot be moved. After been severely ill for a few years, he eventually passes away (3). Mrs. St. Clair immediately announces this news to the earl, who promises to advise and protect them if they come over to the Rossville castle. As “this invitation [is] too advantageous to be refused”, the lady and her supposed child set out for Scotland (4), where the scheming continues:

In her early days her pride and ambition had been excited by making what was considered a

splendid alliance, and it was not till her understanding was thoroughly ripened that she made

the mortifying discovery that high birth, when coupled with personal insignificance, adds no

more to real distinction than a flaming sign does to an ill-kept inn. It was this disappointment

which, operating on a naturally proud and violent temper, had brought into play all the worst

qualities of her nature, and made her look upon the world as indeed a stage, where all the men

and women were merely players. To act a grand and conspicuous part, and regain the station

her husband’s pusillanimity had lost, was therefore now her sole aim. (5)

It is clear that Mrs. St. Clair is primarily driven by the “middle-class self-centredness and personal ambition” that marks the new social order (Butler “Romantics” 104). As the passage above illustrates, her marriage to Mr. St. Clair was meant to improve her own financial status and position. When she noticed that her plan had failed, she had to come up with a new idea to obtain wealth and respectability. She then moves to the scheme regarding Marian’s child, an action that again shows that she only cares about her own selfish needs. Once arrived in the Rossville castle, Mrs. St. Clair still behaves in the same immoral manner. She resolves to play the role of Gertrude’s mother for the rest of her life and to act as if the young lady is the rightful heiress to the Rossville estates (see fragment above). She is thus willing to spend the rest of her days living a lie, merely to gain a position among “the noble race of Rossville” (1) and to enjoy the comforts that come with that. However, after having spent years in peace in the Rossville castle without anybody suspecting that something is awry, Mrs. St. Clair’s scheme threatens to be revealed when a man named Lewiston turns up who lays claim to Gertrude’s fortune. The lady immediately understands that this mysterious figure must be Marian’s missing husband and thus Gertrude’s real father. To prevent her secret from being exposed, Mrs. St. Clair obeys all Lewiston’s commands. She allows him to meet Gertrude a few times and gives him all her and the young lady’s jewellery. When Lewiston demands money, which

Mrs. St. Clair does not possess, she even makes Gertrude ask for a cheque of five hundred pounds to her wealthy uncle Adam Ramsay, as she knows that he favours the young lady and will not refuse her. Gertrude, who has been raised as Miss St. Clair and who, consequently, knows nothing about her real background, feels uncomfortable with this mysterious man Lewiston threatening her mother and bringing her in distress. Naturally, she starts to ask questions about the so-called authority he has over her. Mrs. St. Clair, who does not want Lewiston’s real motives for his encounters to be discovered, tells Gertrude that he is the husband of her nurse Marian who wants money for his spouse’s services:

[…] He seems to think his wife’s care and attention to you, and her long services in the family,

give him a claim upon our gratitude, which I fear I shall not find easy to answer. In short, he

seems a needy, rapacious man, urgent for money, which I have not to give, and yet am loth to

refuse. (98)

Gertrude’s guardian Lyndsay accidentally witnessed one of the meetings with Lewiston and inquired about this man’s business with them. Mrs. St. Clair tells him that Lewiston “had been engaged with her husband in certain money transactions”, which is why he can lay claim to Miss St. Clair’s fortune (253). Unfortunately for Mrs. St. Clair, both Gertrude and Lyndsay question the truth of her account. To ensure their silence and to convince them of the sincerity of her intentions, she uses the language and the gestures of excessive sensibility. She attempts to convince Lyndsay of the gravity of the situation by using “hyperbolic jargon” (254) and implores his silence by shedding a few tears (253). With respect to Gertrude, she manipulates her so-called daughter by crying, exclaiming her words in “a deep and agitated voice” and sinking on her knees at the young lady’s feet (432-433). Moreover, she takes advantage of the love that Gertrude feels for her as a mother. Several times in the novel, she manages to persuade Gertrude to remain silent and to make her obey Lewiston’s commands by claiming that her life depends on it. That is, for instance, illustrated in the following passage in which Mrs. St. Clair tells Gertrude that Lewiston wishes to converse with her alone:

[…] Mrs. St. Clair placed her hand on her daughter’s lips, as she saw an indignant refusal ready

to burst forth – “Oh, Gertrude! Dearest Gertrude! As you value my life, as you value your own

happiness, do not refuse – do not provoke him. I am in his power – one hasty word, one

contemptuous look, may undo me. Oh, Gertrude! For the love you bear to me, for the love you

bore your nurse, for the love of Heaven – be calm and patient. Speak – tell me I may trust you.”

[…] Gertrude started with terror, as the moonbeams now fell on her mother’s face, and

showed it wild, and even ghastly, from excessive emotion. “Compose yourself, mamma,” said

she; “I will do – I will be all your desire”. (111)

As the passage shows, Mrs. St. Clair uses emotional blackmail to submit Gertrude to her control. If the young lady does not go to Lewiston, she endangers her beloved mother’s life. She would be the reason for Mrs. St. Clair’s downfall and wretchedness. Gertrude, hearing this speech and seeing her mother’s agitated facial expression, logically gives in. Nevertheless, there comes an end to Gertrude enduring all of Mrs. St. Clair’s secrecy and Lewiston’s threats. When she becomes Countess of Rossville, Lewiston suddenly arrives at her castle to demand residence. Having a stranger in her home goes too far for Gertrude. She immediately tells him that she will not have him as a guest and orders her mother to explain what exactly this man’s claim is on her. Mrs. St. Clair is horrified when she hears Gertrude utter those words. She begs her daughter to ask no further questions and to simply obey Lewiston. She also tries to appeal again to Gertrude’s emotions by asking her if she wants to destroy her mother (431). Gertrude, however, does not want to hear any more and commands Lewiston to leave her property. He does not accept that the young lady denies him lodging and therefore reveals why she should respect his authority:

“Do you know who it is you are speaking to?” said he. “I neither know nor care,” said the

Countess, while her heart beat as though it would have burst. Lewiston was silent for a minute;

he then said abruptly, but in some agitation – “What if I am your father?”. Gertrude gazed

upon him with a look almost bordering on idiocy; her lips were apart, but no sound came from

them. “It’s very true though – ask the old lady, her you call your mother, if it an’t, she’ll confess

it – that she will. She’ll tell you you’re no more Countess of Rossville than I am; you’re the

daughter of Jacob Lewiston here and your nurse – “. (451)

Mrs. St. Clair’s worst nightmare becomes reality, the truth about Gertrude’s parentage is made known. Since there is no information left to conceal, she tells the young woman, whom she always called her daughter, the story of how she met her real mother Marian La Motte (cf. supra). However, Mrs. St. Clair does not know that the American man who approached them was not being entirely honest. After Gertrude’s protector, Mr. Lyndsay, gave him money to reveal his true identity, he admits

that he is the cousin of Marian’s husband Jacob Lewiston. He merely pretended to be Gertrude’s father in the hope of receiving hush money. He then explains that the dying Marian had written a letter, of which Mrs. St. Clair was unaware, that contained the secret of Gertrude’s birth and that she had handed this over to her priest, who was only allowed to give it to Jacob Ruxton Lewiston of Pert- Amboy, if he were to return from his mission. The minister did not know that the man he was looking for drowned at sea, so when he went to Pert-Amboy and inquired for Jacob Lewiston, he found his cousin. Clearly, the American possesses no claim on Gertrude. However, that still does not take away that she is a Lewiston. At first, the young lady is angry with Mrs. St. Clair for concealing this from her, but eventually she decides to forgive the woman who pretended to be her mother. Mrs. St. Clair, however, argues that she is not the only one who needs to be excused. She claims that Gertrude should apologise to her as well:

“I too have something to forgive,” said Mrs. St. Clair vehemently; “I have to forgive the cruel

disregard – the unnatural, unrelenting violence, with which you treated one who had ever

been as a mother to you in all but the natural tie. I had done all for your aggrandisement; I had

raised you from beggary and obscurity to wealth and greatness, and it is you who have brought

me to shame and misery and poverty – and am I to have nothing to forgive? I humbled myself

in the dust to you, and you were deaf to my prayers. I told you that my life was in your hands

[…]”. (502)

Mrs. St. Clair’s speech highlights once again that she is a selfish being. She does not feel remorse for what she has done. On the contrary, she is mad that the truth has been revealed and blames Gertrude for it. Thanks to her, Mrs. St. Clair has to give up her comfortable life in the Rossville castle, her position among the upper classes and her social respectability. In her speech, it is apparent that Mrs. St. Clair merely focusses on her losses and not on the problematic situation that Gertrude finds herself in now that she is no longer countess. That also indicates that Mrs. St. Clair is too occupied with her own individual needs. Lastly, it is also important to point out that the lady defends her immoral behaviour by arguing that she did Gertrude a favour. Although it is true that Gertrude would have been raised in poverty, if she had stayed with her real mother Marian, that still does not justify Mrs. St. Clair’s action. Contrary to what the lady claims in the above-mentioned fragment, it has been established that she adopted

Gertrude for her own aggrandisement (cf. supra). Just like Austen’s character Lucy Steele, Mrs. St. Clair is a middle-class woman who is willing to sacrifice other people’s happiness to ameliorate her own position. As discussed before, Ferrier is not an advocate of such immoral behaviour. By displaying the troubles and the pain that Mrs. St. Clair has caused with her disgraceful conduct, Ferrier expresses her scepticism about “individual inclination that is not tempered by social and moral values” (Evans 36- 37). She tries to persuade her readers of the importance of ethics, by highlighting that selfish behaviour does not pay off. By the end of the novel, Mrs. St. Clair does not get restored to the luxurious lifestyle she had in the Rossville castle. Instead, she finds herself abroad again where she will probably struggle to maintain herself as she has no fortune of her own.

5.2. Gertrude Lewiston and Edward Lyndsay

As seen, Gertrude is said to be the daughter of Thomas St. Clair. As she is believed to be an upper-class lady, she is expected to make an honourable alliance with another high-born person. Unfortunately, Gertrude does not appear to have a say in her own future prospect, since Lord Rossville has already arranged an attachment for her with Robert Delmour. He is a politician who is aspiring to increase his influence in Parliament. Nevertheless, to succeed in his plan, it is necessary that he wins the upcoming elections. The earl really desires Mr. Delmour to win the political contest, because his victory would benefit the power and consequence of the Rossville family. However, the gentleman is aware that Mr. Delmour has to stand out as a candidate to make a chance. To boost the politician’s position, the earl would like to make him the successor of the family estates. Yet, he cannot simple bestow the properties on Delmour as Gertrude is next in line to inherit. To make sure that Delmour still can call himself the future Lord Rossville, the earl promises him the hand of his cousin. The latter, however, objects to the arrangements made. Unlike her uncle and her destined suitor, she does not regard marriage as a business. She considers it to be a declaration of mutual love. As Gertrude is not attracted to the dull Delmour “who can only talk of votes, seats, rolls and qualifications” (74), she disclaims the engagement Lord Rossville has formed for her. The earl is furious when he hears of her dismissal of his plans and threatens to disinherit Gertrude if she does not marry Mr. Delmour:

[…] There is good reason to believe that it will bear a question whether I am not at liberty,

under the deed of Simon, second Earl of Rossville, to dispone and bequeath the whole of the

lands and estates according to my will and pleasure. […] You have therefore to choose betwixt

an annual income of £20,000, to which you are at present presumptive heiress (that is,

eventually), or to sink at once into comparative poverty, and insignificance, and obscurity.

(193)

Lord Rossville’s attempts are in vain, because Gertrude has made up her mind. She refuses to value properties and wealth over affection. It is very likely that author Ferrier is an advocate of Gertrude’s decision to decline the arranged attachment, since it would be a purely diplomatic matter. The connection is clearly set up by a man who loves power and who is driven by “the desire of human applause” (11). Those are not the foundations of a good marriage. As discussed before, Ferrier believes that rank and a family’s reputation ought to be taken into consideration when forming an alliance. So, from that perspective, she agrees with Lord Rossville. Yet, according to Ferrier, a marriage cannot be merely or primarily based on the wish for aggrandisement and increasing one’s influence (see chapter 4.1. Lady Juliana and Henry Douglas). In Ferrier’s opinion, an attachment should not be all about rationalism, it should involve an emotional connection as well. Ferrier thus supports Gertrude’s view that feelings of love are important in a relationship. However, the author also believes that one ought not to get carried away by those sentiments. She warns her readers that they have to remain realistic. They cannot expect to lead an amorous life in which they can leave all sense of duty behind them. In that respect, Gertrude’s reasoning and conduct differ from what Ferrier expects, for it is emphasised in the novel that the protagonist makes the crucial error of “mistak[ing] her imagination for her mind” (261). Instead of combining “reason or the stern voice of duty” (164) with “delicacy of sentiment” (200) as Austen’s virtuous character Elinor Dashwood does, Gertrude completely submits herself to “the religion of impulse and feeling” (200). Similar to Marianne Dashwood, Gertrude’s “young, enraptured, and enthusiastic mind” is full of ideas of romantic passion (9). Those views of romantic idealism eventually cause her to fall for the “strikingly handsome” Colonel Frederick Delmour and his sweet nothings (30). Blinded by her romantic fantasies, Gertrude thinks this person to be the ideal partner for her. However, he is not as perfect as she believes him to be. It appears that this man has a lot in common with Austen’s immoral character Wickham (see 3.3. George Wickham and Lydia Bennet). Just like the Pride and Prejudice military officer, he is known to be a flirtatious man, for it is stated that “he’s never happy but when he’s making love to somebody or other, married or single, it’s all the same to him” (162). Delmour also gambled away a large sum like Wickham. His cousin Edward Lyndsay then saved him from ruin by advancing him money. Yet, instead of paying back his relative, Delmour chooses to live a luxurious life “far beyond his income” (162), causing him to create even larger debts. That

69 want for extravagance is also similar to Wickham of whom it is said that he always spends more than he ought to (Austen “Pride” 471). A last resemblance between Austen’s officer and Ferrier’s colonel is that they are both very ambitious. While Wickham wanted to marry Miss King for her wealth, Delmour desires an attachment with Gertrude, because it is very likely that she will inherit the Rossville properties:

Colonel Delmour certainly was in love – as much so as it was in his nature to be; but, as has

been truly said, how many noxious ingredients enter into the composition of what is

sometimes called love! Pride, vanity, ambition, self-interest, all these had their share in the

admiration which Colonel Delmour accorded to the beauties and graces of Miss St. Clair. In any

situation in life his taste would have led him to admire her; but it was only as the heiress of

Rossville his pride would have permitted him to have loved her. (156)

Clearly, Colonel Delmour is far from being a morally-upright person. Unfortunately, when Mrs. St. Clair and Miss Pratt, who is a close acquaintance of the Rossville family, warn Gertrude about his true personality, she refuses to believe them. Just like Marianne Dashwood and Elizabeth Bennet, Gertrude makes the mistake of relying too much on her own judgement. As Ferrier describes it, the young lady is “a stranger to the meanness of suspicion, and to suspect the man she [loves] is not in her nature” (157). As Gertrude is under “the influence of a wayward and domineering passion”, she fails to see that her lover is in reality not a prince charming (201). Naturally, the earl is displeased to see that his niece fully surrenders to the “idol of her imagination” (164) and that she chose Colonel Delmour as her partner. As he knows that Gertrude will refuse to give up her alliance with her lover, he attempts to convince Colonel Delmour of detaching himself from Gertrude by bribing him. He writes him a letter in which he offers to pay off his debts and to bestow ten thousand pounds upon him, if he does not marry Miss. St. Clair. The colonel hesitates to accept the offer, because he does not know whether the earl made empty threats when he said that he would disinherit Gertrude or whether he actually possesses the power to do so. Yet, before Delmour finds out how the matter stands, he receives the news that the earl passed away and that his lover is now Lady Rossville. Whereas the colonel is pleased to hear that Gertrude became countess, his lady sheds a few tears, thinking about the fact that her uncle was still angry with her. Nevertheless, Gertrude’s sadness does not last long, for her thoughts soon wander off again to all the bliss she expects from her relationship with Colonel Delmour.

While Miss St. Clair is still caught up in that dream of living happily-ever-after with the dishonourable colonel, she fails to realise that all this time her ideal suitor has been standing right in front of her. She is loved by her friend and guardian Edward Lyndsay who is portrayed as the most kind-hearted and righteous person: “[…] For of Lyndsay it might be truly said, that he set an example of all the moral virtues without pride, and dared to be conspicuous for all the Christian graces without false shame” (79). This gentleman’s morality is, for instance, illustrated in the way he approaches Gertrude and Colonel Delmour’s attachment. Although it is hurtful for him to see his love interest giving all her affection to a deceitful and selfish being, he always puts his own feelings aside. Following that, he never aspires to separate Gertrude from Colonel Delmour. He could easily have tried to convince Gertrude of the colonel’s bad personality and to persuade her to break off the attachment. He could also have participated in Mrs. St. Clair’s scheme to keep Colonel Delmour away from Gertrude as much as possible. However, he did neither of those things, because “his nature [is] too noble to join in any stratagem” (261):

[…] His love was not of that violent yet contracted nature which had sought merely to engross

and appropriate her affections exclusively to himself. He had proposed a nobler aim, a purer

gratification. As his love was without idolatry, so was it free from selfishness. He had not sought

to undermine her affection; he had aimed at elevating and ennobling them by extending their

sphere beyond the narrow perishable limits of human attachment, and he had hoped that a

mind so pure, so lofty, so generous as hers, might yet become enamoured of virtue, might yet

be saved from uniting itself with a nature so unworthy of its love. (321)

Instead of governing her actions and views, Lyndsay thus intends “to guide [Gertrude’s] principles”, “to strengthen her mind” and “to impress upon her the responsibility of the duties assigned to her” (307). By teaching the countess about the importance of virtue, the gentleman hopes that she will understand that she has been relying too much on her romantic fantasies and that she needs to listen more to the voice of reason. Following that, he also longs that his strategy will lead Gertrude to the realisation that Colonel Delmour is a bad suitor for her. To guide Lady Rossville onto the path of morality, Lyndsay encourages her to start up some charity projects. Together, they make plans for the construction of a schoolhouse, they visit the poor and they intend to assist Gertrude’s cousin Anne Black and her fiancé William Leslie in their financial situation. Leslie has finished his clerical education, “but hitherto all his efforts to procure a living have proved ineffectual” (180). Consequently, he and his

71 partner are left with no income and are thus forced to postpone their wedding plans. To make sure that the lack of wealth does not interfere with their happiness, Lyndsay and Gertrude offer to help them in their search for a sacred office. Despite that Lyndsay is making progress with Gertrude, his accomplishments soon are undone by Colonel Delmour who exerts a more powerful influence over her. That ascendancy is, for instance, highlighted when the lover joins Gertrude on a trip to London. Once arrived there, he introduces her to the extravagant city life, which makes her forget about all the valuable lessons she received from Lyndsay:

Her own mornings were spent in sitting to half the sculptors and painters in town for busts and

pictures, in all possible variety, to please the fastidious taste of her lover: in riding in the Park

with him, or in shopping with Lady Charles, or some other frivolous idler. In the evening there

were dinners, and parties, and balls, and operas, and concerts, in such quick succession, as left

her scarcely conscious of having been at one before she found herself at some other. “Confess

this is to live,” said Delmour to her one evening, as he led her from one gay multiple, where

she had been the admired of all admirers, to another where her appearance would excite an

equal sensation […]. (391)

As the passage above illustrates, Colonel Delmour does not encourage Gertrude to act dutifully like Lyndsay did. Instead of letting her save money to help the poor or the contribute to society in general, the colonel incites her to spend enormous sums on “frivolous occupations and amusements which form the soil business of so many an immortal being’s existence” (391). It is due to his impact that Lady Rossville adopts an excessive lifestyle. Apart from that, Colonel Delmour’s negative influence on Gertrude is also demonstrated by the fact that he makes her break the promise she made to Miss Black and Mr. Wesley (cf. supra). While in London, Lady Rossville receives a letter from Lyndsay in which he mentions that the parish minister of Rossville passed away. He asks her to draw up the paperwork so that Leslie can occupy the position. Even though Delmour is aware that Anne and William need the income, he persuades Gertrude into giving the clerical office to an acquaintance of his friend Monteith. When Lady Rossville asks the name of the person to whom she bestows the church and living of Rossville, Delmour refuses to reveal the identity of the man. The reason behind his secrecy soon becomes clear as it turns out that Gertrude granted the Rossville ministry to “a superannuated bon vivant” (414) who absolutely does not deserve

the position. As soon as Lyndsay hears that news, he goes to the countess to confront her with the injustice of her decision and to advise her to retract herself from it:

[…] Broken promises and power misused – ah! Gertrude, what can make up for these? […] The

happiness of two amiable, interesting beings is in your hands; you are their only earthly stay

at present; should you fail them, their disappointment may be bitter […]. (415-416)

Unfortunately, Gertrude persists in her choice. Lyndsay expresses his disappointment in her by resigning as her guardian. That act makes Gertrude realise the incorrectness of her conduct: “How must I have behaved, when even Lyndsay, the mild, forgiving, disinterested Lyndsay, has renounced me!” (416). Despite that Gertrude acknowledges her misconduct towards Miss Black and her fiancé, she still fails to see the immorality of her overall behaviour. She only understands her flaws after she received the news on her true parentage (see previous chapter). As she is not the daughter of Thomas St. Clair, she loses her position as countess and all the wealth that comes with that. Having all her fortune taken away made her realise how wrong it was to lead an extravagant life:

[…] She felt all the emptiness and the vanity of [the earthly] pleasures; her dreams of greatness,

her hopes of happiness, her gay-spent days, her festive nights, where were they now? Gone!

And where they had been was marked but with shame, disappointment, remorse. All earthly

distinctions had been hers, and what was the account which she had not to render to God for

the use of these His gifts? On which of these was it that she would now build her hopes of

acceptance with Him; […]. (497)

Next to that, the revelation about her biological parents and the loss of riches also makes her understand that her relatives were right about Colonel Delmour. After Gertrude has to give up the Rossville estates, they are bequeathed to Colonel Delmour’s older brother Frederick. As he does not live much longer, the properties fall in the hands of the colonel. That offers Gertrude and Delmour the chance to live the life they had in mind before the lady’s disinheritance. However, Delmour does not want to be in a relationship with Gertrude anymore. As he is now the owner of the Rossville estates that he always desired, he no longer needs her. Besides that, his pride and ambition withhold him from marrying a woman of lower birth who has no fortune of her own. So, he detaches himself from

Gertrude. Only because of the separation with the colonel does she realise that, all this time, she has let herself be swayed by her fantasies of romantic passion. Since Gertrude is no longer captivated by her own illusions, she gradually begins to see what a noble person Lyndsay is. His sincere kindness and integrity are, for instance, shown to the lady in the actions he undertook in the case of Anne and William (cf. supra). Instead of informing the couple about Gertrude’s abandonment, he bestows upon William another living and tells them it was Gertrude’s doing. By this deed, he did not only secure the happiness of that couple, he also protected Gertrude’s name and reputation:

He has saved me as far as he could from the disgrace of – at best, I fear, equivocation, and

from the wretchedness of having disappointed the hopes of those whom I had taught to put

their trust in me. (420)

Following that, Gertrude also starts to realise that Lyndsay is the one who truly loves her. He never stopped supporting her and he sincerely cares for her. In the course of her stay at the Rossville castle, he has always been there for her and that does not change when he hears that she is no longer a wealthy countess. After she had to give up everything, he does not hold her in contempt like Colonel Delmour did. On the contrary, Lyndsay expresses admiration for her, by arguing that, although she has lost her noble title, she still is a noblewoman due to her amiable and virtuous nature:

‘Tis true you have no longer a title, a vain empty title, or wealth to spend, perhaps to satiety;

but how much nobler a being you are now, dignified by voluntary self-abasement, and rich in

all the native gifts of your Creator, […]. […] You have been the victim of imposture; but your

own name is pure and spotless; it is more. To those who can appreciate virtue, it will carry a

nobler sound along with it than any that heraldry could have bestowed. How poor is the boast

of ancestry compared with that lofty sense of honour […]. (476-477)

It is very likely that Ferrier, by means of this speech of her most moral and truthful character, gives an account of her own views on Gertrude. It has already been mentioned that Ferrier attaches importance to birth in the context of rank and status, but it is clear that Gertrude forms an exception to the rule, because her situation is an extraordinary one. As Lyndsay’s speech mentions, it is not her

fault that she has been used for a scheme. Following that, she is raised as a person of high birth, meaning that she has received the education of an upper-class lady and that she is accustomed to living among people of the aristocracy. It is therefore very probable that Ferrier agrees with Lyndsay that Gertrude still deserves to be seen as a genteel lady. Besides that, it can also be argued that Ferrier displays her conservative views by means of Lyndsay’s speech. The gentleman states that titles and ancestry are meaningless if they are not combined with a sense of virtue. That corresponds with Ferrier’s stance that upper-class people ought to set an example to their fellow citizens, because it is part of their responsibility. Gertrude is expelled from the aristocratic family of Rossville, but as seen, many of its members do not act very honourably. Through Lyndsay’s speech, Ferrier criticises, just like Austen, the assumption that the conduct of high- born people is self-evidently exemplary. Gertrude deserves it much more to be called a genteel person than, for instance, Colonel Delmour, because she has a kind-hearted and compassionate nature. She made mistakes in the past due to her excessive sensibility, but she managed to leave those behind her. That Gertrude has actually changed her conduct is illustrated in the attachment she forms with Lyndsay by the end of the novel. After she learned about Lyndsay’s personality and his sentiments, Gertrude gradually started to fall in love with him. However, this time it is emphasised that Gertrude did not let herself get carried away by idealistic illusions:

The bewildering glare of romantic passion no longer shed its fair but perishable lustre on the

horizon of her existence; but the calm radiance of piety and virtue rose with steady ray, and

brightened the future course of a happy and useful life; and Gertrude, as the wife of Edward

Lyndsay, lived to bless the day that; had deprived her of her earthly Inheritance. (506-507)

As the passage above illustrates, Gertrude now lives by the principle that “piety and virtue” should predominate over the want of wealth and estates, which is by Ferrier referred to as “earthly inheritance” (507). Since Gertrude learned that valuable lesson, Ferrier restores her protagonist as Countess of the Rossville estates. After Colonel Delmour passed away in a duel, the properties are bequeathed to Gertrude’s husband Lyndsay21. As it is said that Gertrude now rules with an enlightened mind and that she and her husband use their power and prosperity to contribute to society (507), it can be concluded that Ferrier regards their alliance as an exemplary one.

21 Colonel Delmour married his former love interest, the Duchess of St. Ives, after he abandoned Gertrude. However, it is said that his “faithless wife” injured and betrayed him and that he had “fought to avenge his honour”, but that he “fell in the cause” (506).

6. Conclusion

This paper discussed that the social orders in England and Scotland were changing during Austen’s and Ferrier’s lifetime. The small rural communities ruled by hereditary upper classes were gradually transforming into capitalist societies dominated by an entrepreneurial middle class. Morality and solidarity were no longer the key concepts. It was all about profit and individualism now. The middle- classers tried to make as much money as possible to improve their social standing and the hereditary upper classes started to neglect their social duties in their attempt to keep up with those ambitious capitalists. All of that eventually led to the downfall of the hereditary gentlemen and ladies. Austen and Ferrier both witnessed those changes and the selected novels deal with the social order of their time. The purpose of this research was to argue that the books Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility illustrate that Austen was an adherent of the old social order. Ferrier’s first two novels Marriage and The Inheritance have also been studied to see whether this Scottish author shares Austen’s conservative views. The analysis of the marriage plots and the characters’ love interests in those four novels has produced some striking results. It appears that there are many similarities between Austen’s narratives and those of Ferrier. First of all, both authors introduce hereditary upper-class people who set an example to their fellow citizens. In Sense and Sensibility, Edward Ferrars and Elinor Dashwood are portrayed as two people who have their heart in the right place. They care about other people’s well-being and are willing to sacrifice their own happiness to please others. Edward originally does not want to break off his engagement to Lucy Steele because he made her a promise and because he does not want to upset her. Elinor refuses to give in to her hurtful feelings as she knows that this would make her mother and sister miserable. Pride and Prejudice character Jane Bennet is also described as a kind-hearted person. Despite being a bit naïve and reserved, she is an amiable and morally-upright woman. In The Inheritance, Edward Lyndsay is depicted as a true gentleman, for he fulfils his social responsibilities. He advises Gertrude and teaches her about morality. He helps his fellow citizens and tries to turn the community into a good place to live. All those above-mentioned upper-class characters are probably created to emphasise the importance of the ethical values of the old social order. Society functions much better when the ruling classes are driven by moral concern. Secondly, it is apparent that Austen’s novels as well as those of Ferrier contain upper-class characters who act honourably after they learned a valuable lesson. In Pride and Prejudice, Fitzwilliam Darcy originally behaved in a proud and anti-social manner to all his acquaintances who are not close to him. However, by the end of the novel, he realises that he is in the wrong and starts to act more graciously. Elizabeth Bennet is too hasty in forming an opinion of people. Her image of somebody

77 completely depends on her first impression of the person in question. Eventually, she understands that she has to take the time to get to know somebody. She also learns that she should not give rein to her romantic feelings. Sense and Sensibility character Marianne Dashwood and the protagonist of The Inheritance, Gertrude Lewiston, acquire that knowledge as well. Initially, they are driven by excessive sensibility, because they rely too much on their fantasies of romantic passion. After reality struck them, they comprehend that they need to act more rationally. Marriage character Mary Douglas also suffers from excessive sensibility at first, since she is caught up in a dream in which everybody is good-natured, and life is free of sorrow. Fortunately, she soon learns to accept that life can be harsh and people unjust. It is likely that Austen and Ferrier came up with those upper-class characters to show that the conduct of the higher-rank people is not automatically exemplary. They need to dedicate themselves to a moral life. Besides that, the authors probably introduced many characters of feeling to criticise the cult of sensibility. It can be concluded from the novels that Austen and Ferrier believe that excessive sensibility leads to immoral and anti-social behaviour. That, of course, does not correspond with the principles of the old social order. Thirdly, Austen and Ferrier both incorporated upper-class characters in their narratives whose conduct is far from being exemplary. John Dashwood and Fanny Ferrars clearly forget about their moral responsibilities, as they put their own financial wealth above the well-being of the Dashwood ladies. Robert Ferrars is also driven by selfishness and financial greed, since he tricked his mother into giving him her complete inheritance. The same can be said about John Willoughby who weds Miss Grey for her wealth. Charlotte Lucas joins those avaricious characters as well, considering that the prospect of a comfortable life was her only motivation for marrying William Collins. The latter is also far from being a role model. He is a haughty clergyman who does not live according to the Christian principles, since his solemn aim consists of improving his own respectability. Lydia Bennet is an irresponsible and flirtatious young woman who merely wants to get married. She does not think about the financial consequences of the attachment she makes to an indebted and extravagant man. Lady Juliana also does not think things through. She weds her poor lover but expects the same luxurious life as she had before. Besides that, she also acts very selfishly as she only cares about her own happiness. Juliana’s daughter Adelaide turns out to be no better. Twice does she form an attachment based on selfish considerations. Her vanity and ambition first drive her into the arms of a wealthy duke. Then her proud nature longs to conquer the handsome but poor Lord Lindore, because he is always the centre of interest and adored by many ladies. All those above-mentioned upper-class characters clearly do not behave according to the moral principles of the old social order. It is very likely that Austen and Ferrier introduced them to remind the upper classes of the duties they have. They cannot rule responsibly if they follow the individual and ambitious notions of the new social order.

Fourthly, both Austen’s and Ferrier’s novels present an overall negative portrayal of the army. The officer of Pride and Prejudice, George Wickham, and the colonel of The Inheritance, Frederick Delmour, clearly are immoral and selfish beings. Instead of defending the country, they flirt and gamble. They also lead an extravagant life beyond their means and are driven by the pursuit of financial wealth. As their conduct and lifestyle do not fit the morality and solidarity of the old social order, Austen and Ferrier refuse to describe them as gentlemen. It is possible that some military scandals which happened during Austen’s and Ferrier’s lifetime are the reason why the authors are doubtful about the army. That Austen and Ferrier are suspicious of the army is also illustrated in the depiction of the militia who seem to behave in a more morally-upright manner. In Sense and Sensibility, Colonel Brandon appears to be a kind-hearted man. Yet, Austen expresses her doubt by referring to him as a gentleman-like person. In Marriage, Colonel Lennox gives the impression of being a decent person. However, the novel contains some general statements on the army that emphasise Ferrier’s scepticism. Fifthly, Austen and Ferrier both introduce middle-class people who behave badly. In Sense and Sensibility, there is Lucy Steele who only cares about her own individual needs. She is willing to sacrifice the happiness of Edward and Elinor in her pursuit of wealth and rank. In The Inheritance, Sarah Black marries an upper-class gentleman and creates one big lie to be able to live a luxurious life among the aristocracy. Just like Miss Steele, she is thus merely occupied with her selfish wants. Characters as those probably served as a critique on the egoism and the ambitiousness of the new capitalist middle class. However, there is one figure who is harder to pinpoint. In Pride and Prejudice, the readers are introduced to Charles Bingley, a wealthy middle-class man whose fortune derives from his father’s commercial successes. He is described as a pleasant and kind man who is definitely not immoral as Lucy and Sarah. Despite that this middle-classer is portrayed in a more positive manner, Austen still emphasises her scepticism and distrust towards him. That is illustrated by his description as a gentleman-like person and the fact that his two sisters are ambitious, fortune-seeking women who completely fit within the new social order. In conclusion, the analysis of the characters’ matrimonial preferences and love interests in the four selected novels seems to favour the old social system. Morality, charity and birth right are all values to which Austen and Ferrier attach importance. On the other hand, it appears that the authors are critical of the new social order. The emergence of capitalist society is clearly associated with the principles of individualism, selfishness and greed. Those results show that is very likely that both Austen and Ferrier were conservatives.

7. Bibliography

Primary Works

Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. Edited by Wordsworth Editions Limited, Wordsworth Editions Limited, 2004.

Austen, Jane. Sense and Sensibility. Edited by Wordsworth Editions Limited, Wordsworth Editions Limited, 2004.

Ferrier, Susan. Marriage. Edited by Oxford University Press, Oxford University Press, 1971.

Ferrier, Susan. The Inheritance. Edited by The Nineteenth Century Scottish Women’s Series, Kennedy & Boyd, 2009.

Secondary Works

Baker, William. Critical Companion to Jane Austen: A Literary Reference to Her Life and Work. Facts On File, 2008.

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Appendix: Table Incomes Austen Characters

Annual incomes of the Austen characters by the end of her novels:

Source: Runcie, Charlotte and Scott Campbell. “Could Mr Darcy Afford a Stately Home Today?”, The Telegraph, https://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/11063670/Could-Mr-Darcy-afford-a-stately- home-today.html, 29 Aug. 2004.