in defence of gold digging
Working off our conversation about feminism
in JA’s novels that ended our class yesterday, I have some questions about some
seemingly contradictory views of choices, mercenaries and happy endings. Mrs
Gardiner, the mother Elizabeth and Jane deserve, advises Elizabeth against
loving Wickham, as their marriage would have serious financial
consequences. Elizabeth concedes and
seems to recognize the ‘imprudence of encouraging such an attachment’ (140).
But she also asks her dear aunt, ‘what is the difference in matrimonial
affairs, between the mercenary and the prudent motive?’ and here lies my own
confusion in what claims about marriage JA is making in her novels (151).
We’ve seen quite a few villainous—or at
least more despicable characters—leave love for money: Isabella, Lucy,
Willoughby, Charlotte, and Wickham while our protagonists and narrators often
criticize the actions of these characters who go out to ‘hunt’ and make their
‘conquest.’ Isabella is the catty mean
girl in NA because she actively pursues her lovers in an effort of securing her
fortune. Lucy seems duplicitous in her
ability to quickly shift her love for Edward to Robert who now acts as the
older son and inherits his mother’s fortune.
Elizabeth thinks Charlotte has somehow betrayed her romantic ideals in
marrying a man as absurd as Mr Collins to assure a comfortable living. We can even add Mrs Bennett to this list of
gold digging women since she very aggressively and unapologetically pushes her
daughters towards wealthier men at the risk of Jane even falling sick. These women are ridiculous and we, as
readers, laugh at them and generally despise them for their choices.
But the fact is that these women are also
the only female characters that do make choices and then act upon those
choices. If ‘a single man in possession
of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife,’ why can it not be the case that
a single woman, whether or not in possession of a good fortune, must be in want
of a husband (5)? Mr Collins comes into
the Bennetts’ home and takes his pick of women as if at a farm or market and we
think him foolish for it; although, Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley—arguably all the men
at the ball do the very same thing. Mr
Collins’ foolishness comes only from his belief that he has a chance with these
women. The men can choose. In fact, Lady de Bourgh orders Mr Collins to
‘chuse properly, chose a gentlewoman’ as though it is only proper of him to do
so (103). When Willoughby and Wickham
choose to align themselves with wealthier women, we begin to see the duplicity
in attitudes toward free will and power as they differ for men and women. Willoughby gets his redemption because we
sympathize with him in the end and Elinor forgives him as we do too. He is humanized and we no longer see him as
the enemy but perhaps as prudent and can at a minimum understand where he comes
from. Elizabeth herself sympathizes with
Wickham too and allows Wickham the benefit of the doubt that he at least
operates from prudence too and that is thereby justified for his actions and
not a mercenary. The narrator does
criticize Elizabeth for her hypocrisy in being so critical of Charlotte for the
very same motives but so forgiving of Wickham (147).
So if the men are allowed to pursue their
fortunes and their spouses—in fact, it seems as though it is their duty to do
so as it is a ‘truth universally acknowledged’—why can’t the women? It seems—to me—as though Mrs Bennett is right
to actively seek men for her daughters because she does so in their best
interests. If women are fated to marry,
why not at least choose who they want to marry?
If they have no fortunes of their own and are disinherited by estate
laws then why not choose a home that can provide for them? It seems a bit convenient that our heroines
always end up with the men that they want who just so coincidentally happen to
be have large (enough) fortunes themselves.
Sometimes JA’s happy endings are so contrived that they undermine her
own (or at least her characters’) criticisms of women gold dig. For example, Edward’s fortune from his friend
Colonel Brandon seems unbelievably fortuitous and far too convenient.
Our heroines passively wait for the men
around them to act and then suffer the consequences of the men’s actions
instead of ever actively deciding their own fates and I’m having a lot of
trouble with this as we read more of JA’s novels. Though Jane got sick from travelling in the
rain, had Mrs Bennett not sent her, her courtship with Bingley would have been
that much slower and the plot would have been that much less interesting. And we shouldn’t forget that Mr Bennett also
foolishly sent Lydia to Brighton though his decisions proved far more
consequential. Are JA’s novels all about
karma in which the women who wait patiently and act out of virtue will be
rewarded with the charming, good-looking wealthy lover while the active,
fortune-seeking women will suffer? Do
they suffer? What should we make of
Elizabeth’s original question between being prudential and being a mercenary
and what does that say about women’s power to choose and act upon their free
will—if they have any?
Since I'm re-reading this post in light of our MP reading, I wanted to add in a quotation from that novel that I think reflects interestingly on Austen's attitudes toward "choice" (in marriage or otherwise):
ReplyDeleteThis is spoken by Tom Bertram at the end of Chapter 12 of MP. The "poky old woman he mentions" is Mrs. Rushworth and the "good aunt" is Mrs. Norris:
"A pretty modest request upon my word," he indignantly exclaim as they [Tom and Fanny] walked away. "To want to nail me to a card-table for the next two hours with herself and Dr. Grant, who are always quarelling, and that poking old woman, who knows no more of whist than of algebra. I wish my good aunt would be a little less busy! And to ask me in such a way too! without ceremony, before them all, so as to leave me no possibility of refusing. *That* is what I dislike most particularly. It raises my spleen more than anything, to have the pretence of being asked, of being given a choice, and at the same time addressed in such a way as to oblige one to do the very thing, whatever it be! If I had not luckily thought of standing up with you I could not have got out of it. It is a great deal too bad..."
There are a few aspects to this passage that might relate to broader thoughts on choice / agency / gender in JA's novels. I find it interesting that Tom says this--Tom's selfishness and Mrs. Norris's officiousness are both negative characteristics, so our readerly sympathies don't have an immediate home. Interesting, too, that Tom gets out of this by "asking" Fanny to dance (the person who really doesn't have a choice here or anywhere).
This is a really great quote and I also think it's interesting that it comes from Tom since he seems to have the most freedom (of movement, action, speech) than any of the characters, though it often comes across as his rebelliousness. It also reminds me of Edmund's 'sufferings' later in the novel and his inability to recognize Fanny's or even sympathize with her. Tom says this with such disgust at his aunt's proposal and her blatant disrespect for his agency/preferences not realizing that Fanny suffers from this every day and that he has often been the cause of her suffering ('asking' her to participate in the play).
DeleteI also love that dancing with Fanny frees Tom because it seems like Austen is still running with the marriage/dance analogy from NA here. Tom is without agency and choice here- much like the women- and dancing saves him just as marriage 'saves' women and gives them perhaps the only opportunity to exercise choice. But his rant also makes me wonder whether even that choice comes only from 'the pretence of being asked' as it certainly does for Collins' proposal to Elizabeth (Mrs Bennett gets very mad and Collins doesn't take the refusal seriously) and, of course, Henry Crawford's proposal to Fanny. I then wonder how many other proposals we might think of here: Marianne had so much pressure to marry Colonel Brandon and though she comes around to finding him agreeable, what would her refusal have looked like? Would Elizabeth have been thought ungrateful for refusing Darcy the second time after he had helped her sister? Did Elinor have any other options? Would Catherine have been ungrateful of the Tilneys who befriended her and 'raised' her (at least epistemologically)?