Valuing kindness above cleverness: Emma's lesson

 

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Facebook brought this New Yorker cartoon into my feed. I immediately thought of Jane Austen's Emma. She thought the same way the father in this cartoon does that saying something clever but devastating is an irresistible temptation, but she comes to regret the hurt she has caused. 

While the group is seated for their picnic, Frank Churchill stirs things up by declaring a demand from Miss Woodhouse: 

" '..she only demands from each of you either one thing very clever, be it prose or verse, original or repeated--or two things moderately clever--or three things very dull indeed, and she engages to laugh heartily at them all."

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"Oh! very well," exclaimed Miss Bates, "then I need not be uneasy. 'Three things very dull indeed.' That will just do for me, you know. I shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth, shan't I? (looking round with the most good-humoured dependence on every body's assent)--Do not you all think I shall?"

Emma could not resist.

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"Ah! ma'am, but there may be a difficulty. Pardon me--but you will be limited as to number--only three at once."

Miss Bates, deceived by the mock ceremony of her manner, did not immediately catch her meaning; but, when it burst on her, it could not anger, though a slight blush shewed that it could pain her.

"Ah!--well--to be sure. Yes, I see what she means, (turning to Mr. Knightley,) and I will try to hold my tongue. I must make myself very disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old friend."

There is some additional dialog and a bit of narrative until Mr. Knightley is able to confront Emma alone and take her to task:

While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. He looked around, as if to see that no one were near, and then said,

"Emma, I must once more speak to you as I have been used to do: a privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still use it. I cannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance. How could you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your wit to a woman of her character, age, and situation?--Emma, I had not thought it possible."

Emma recollected, blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh it off.

"Nay, how could I help saying what I did?--Nobody could have helped it. It was not so very bad. I dare say she did not understand me."

"I assure you she did. She felt your full meaning. She has talked of it since. I wish you could have heard how she talked of it--with what candour and generosity. I wish you could have heard her honouring your forbearance, in being able to pay her such attentions, as she was for ever receiving from yourself and your father, when her society must be so irksome."

"Oh!" cried Emma, "I know there is not a better creature in the world: but you must allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are most unfortunately blended in her."

"They are blended," said he, "I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous, I could allow much for the occasional prevalence of the ridiculous over the good. Were she a woman of fortune, I would leave every harmless absurdity to take its chance, I would not quarrel with you for any liberties of manner. Were she your equal in situation--but, Emma, consider how far this is from being the case. She is poor; she has sunk from the comforts she was born to; and, if she live to old age, must probably sink more. Her situation should secure your compassion. It was badly done, indeed! You, whom she had known from an infant, whom she had seen grow up from a period when her notice was an honour, to have you now, in thoughtless spirits, and the pride of the moment, laugh at her, humble her--and before her niece, too--and before others, many of whom (certainly some,) would be entirely guided by your treatment of her.--This is not pleasant to you, Emma--and it is very far from pleasant to me; but I must, I will,--I will tell you truths while I can; satisfied with proving myself your friend by very faithful counsel, and trusting that you will some time or other do me greater justice than you can do now."

You can judge for yourself which adaption of the picnic at Box Hill, showed this lesson best, thanks to the compilation here:

 

With great status comes great responsibility 

The first line of Emma is not nearly as famous as the opening line of Pride and Prejudice, though it also archly conveys the essence of the story: "Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her."

Emma seems to have all that is necessary for happiness. Out of those three attributes, she takes the most pride in her cleverness, taking her wealth for granted and lacking vanity for her appearance, as Mr. Knightley reveals in conversation with Mrs. Weston. 

Like a tragic hero, Emma's great strengths are also what lead to her undoing -- or rather some misjudgments and hurt feelings that the good-hearted Emma never intended. Austen's novels follow the conventions of Shakespeare's comedies rather than the tragedies, so everything works out fine in the end with the main characters properly paired off. 

However, along the way, our heroine has to admit her faults and mistakes and learn to be better, which she does. Now that I think about it, Emma's lesson is similar to Darcy's who responded to Bingley's suggestion that he ask Elizabeth to dance with "She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men." Darcy came to regret that quip as much as Emma regretted what she said to Miss Bates. Like Darcy, Emma learns that kindness and consideration for the feelings of others is a greater measure of worth than attempt to manipulate others -- for their own good -- and clever remarks.  

Related:

Observations on Jane Austen's Emma                    
Jane Austen: Love and Money
Love and Limerence in Jane Austen

Jane Austen at the Morgan
Jane Austen and Autism
Jane Austen's Heroines
Pride, Prejudice and Persuasion: Obstacles to Happiness in Jane Austen's Novels
Three Janes, Two Governesses, and the Abolitionist Movement

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The Marriage Plot: Expectations for Novel Ending Must Be Met

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the Austenian literary paradigm demands that the heroine get her man.

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Bronte's bestseller 
"Reader, I married him," is among the most memorable lines in English literature. It's also one of the reasons why a lot more people reads Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre --  a story that has successfully been translated to the screen time and time again -- than her more mature novel, Villette. Ever see an adaptation of Villette? I haven't either.

Granted, Jane Eyre is a more likable heroine than Lucy Snowe. But the difference in endings and romantic resolutions are a key difference.  While Jane does get to decline a proposal, she also does get to marry her man on her own terms. In contrast, in Villette, the heroine only can picture her own reunion with her beloved professor that will not be realized.

I do recall one professor in graduate school considering that a triumph because she thought that actually having to live with M. Paul Emanuel would prove irritating. However, the tone is not one of "I dodged a bullet there," so much as "I'll have to make it on my own now. I will endure despite the loneliness."  That's not really what readers tend to expect in novels built on the framework of classic comedies.

Rooted in Shakespeare
If you've ever taken a Shakespeare class, you should already know that the definitive trait of comedy is not humor but a happy ending in which all the problems and threats are smoothed away, and society can function smoothly. As it says near the end of A Midsummer Night's Dream:  "Jack shall have Jill/ Nought shall go ill."

 Shakespeare always included a marriage or two on the horizon to point out that social harmony is indeed restored. In that way, it echoes the stereotypical fairy tale structure that ends with the prince and the princess marrying and assurance that they "lived happily ever after."

While there are novels that follow the plot  lines of classical tragedy, as we see in the works of Thomas Hardy, as well as novels that declare themselves free of heroes, as is the case of Vanity Fair,  the novels that fit the chick lit mold set by Jane Austen work out very much like Shakespeare's comedies. Stability is restored at the end, and the heroine is happily married.

The expectation was built up by the paradigm of novel forms that supplanted many others: the books written by Jane Austen. That was the model of women's writing pushed on Bronte. Though she rebelled in her own way by insisting on an vividly outspoken though plain-looking governess rather than a lady who never had to earn her living as her heroine, she did, ultimately conform to the marriage plot in Jane Eyre. 

Bronte's other two complete novels, The Professor and Shirley do have  marriages, though they are rarely included in  English literature courses. (Loads more than you probably wish to know about the complete Charlotte Bronte oeuvre in (En)gendering Romanticism: A Study of Charlotte Bronte's Novels ) By the time she got to Villette, she e felt confident enough to deviate from the formula, though the result is that a very fine novel gets far less name recognition and rates no box office appeal.

Little Women as Chick Lit
Now let's cross the Atlantic and jump ahead a bit in history to consider Louisa May Alcott's masterpiece, Little Women.  My alternative title for this blog was  "Why Louisa May Alcott's Heroine Could Not Remain a Literary Spinster."

As the latest adaption of the classic beloved by generations of girls sought to  highlight in its framing of the ending, the author did not intend to marry Jo off at all. (Read about that here: https://www.historyextra.com/period/victorian/history-little-women-louisa-may-alcott-writer-who-when-how-much-inspired-by-life/)  Despite reader pressure, she declared, “I won’t marry Jo to Laurie to please anyone.”

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But her idea to leave her heroine as a "literary spinster" would not go over, and so she took perverse pleasure in marrying Jo off to “a funny match," the much older, somewhat stodgy Professor Friedrich Bhaer. (Though I haven't done real research into Alcott's reading, I find it hard to believe that the German Bhaer was not somewhat inspired by the professor figure in Bronte's works. )

Whatever you feel about the Laurie ship veering off course from Jo to Amy, which does come off as contrived, indeed, the potential resolution of leaving Jo as the solitary artist figure scribbling alone would have disappointed readers, likely made the book sell fewer copies, and certainly resulted in far fewer film adaptations.

Think of another heroine beloved by generations of young girls, Anne Shirley. While readers enjoy her continued adventures as a young single women, working as a teacher and earning her university degree, the expectation that she will end up with Gilbert Blythe is built in from the moment he says, "Carrots!' It can be delayed through several books, but it is, ultimately, inescapable for the books and the screen adaptions that have multiplied in recent years.

Exceptions do not disprove the general rule
That is not to say that no novels without marriage resolutions are adapted. Certainly some are, though not nearly with the same frequency as those that do feature the conventional happy ending.
Having the heroine remain single is not nearly as satisfying in terms of mass appeal.


The reader now may be bristling at the thought that we retain the same kind of conventional expectations even in modern times. Aren't we now enlightened enough to appreciate a story that does not end like a child's fairy tale? Yes, certainly, some of us are. But when success is measured in terms of pleasing the most possible people, you do need to stick to certain conventions.

Austen fans in a tizzy
This becomes clear in the reactions to the ending of the Sanditon series. If you look on IMDB, you'll see that while most episodes rate about an 8, some even close to 9. But the final episode only rates a 6.9 and includes some individual ratings as low as one from viewers who were bitterly disappointed in the ending. Here's a typical one star review:

If you are going to finish a Jane Austen story, please give it a Jane Austen ending! I have really enjoyed this series but the ending completely ruined it all. All I can think is they wanted to leave it open for series two? But why wreck a whole series in the hope to hook people to a second. The ending this story deserved would have made me watch a second, but this? Doubtful!

The argument is if you're going to bank on the Austen name to lure us in, you better deliver on the promised happy ending we've grown to expect from the completed six novels. Obviously, the producers of the series intended to not end the first season with the happily ever after for the heroine because there had been hopes of a second series, but that is not enough to assuage the outrage born of expectations unmet.

The pull of the marriage plot in a Jane Austen work  is simply too strong to be disregarded. Working against type here would leave your readership or audience is disconcerting as they feel cheated out of the social resolution  established in for the genre of comedy and the novel about women.


Related: 

Jane Austen: Love and Money
Love and Limerence in Jane Austen

Three Janes, Two Governesses, and the Abolitionist Movement
Some observations on Jane Austen's Emma
Jane Austen and Autism
Jane Austen's Heroines
Pride and Prejudice in Job Applications
Pride, Prejudice and Persuasion: Obstacles to Happiness in Jane Austen's Novels
The Big Bow-wow & Bit of Ivory
Jane Austen and Capability Brown
Pride and Prejudice in Job Applications