Marriage (or Lack
Thereof) and Agency
The
late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries heralded fewer changes in women’s
rights than many scholars had originally assumed. Susan Moller Okin argues in her article, “Patriarchy and Married Women’s Property in England: Questions on Some Current Views” that “the
laws that regulated marital relations until the late nineteenth century were
such as to make the notion of a husband’s acting as trustee for his wife’s ‘independent”
property patently absurd. She was
obligated by both religious and secular law to obey him absolutely, and he was
in a position of such legal power with regard to both her and her children as
to enable him to punish her cruelly in many ways if she did not.” (133) Although it appeared that women—even
married women—had more freedoms available to them than before, evidence has
arisen, such as that shown by Okin, that indicates quite the opposite. Much of this evidence also comes from
the literature of the time, which extrapolated on the issue of the rights of
unmarried men and women through the plight of sympathetic characters in
unfortunate situations. G sums it up best in her post “Adeline’s
Agency?” when she writes, “A woman’s agency seems to always be tied to the pursuit of
marriage, or confinement within it.” However, in
looking at four novels in the order in which they were published, marked
changes in the perception of agency in relation to marriage begin to
appear. First, Charlotte Smith’s Desmond, published in 1792, argues that
marriage leads to a complete lack of agency for married women, while married
and unmarried men are able to exert their agency freely. Opie’s 1802 novel Adeline Mowbray, in turn, offers complete agency to an unmarried
woman, and yet she is ridiculed, shunned from society, and ultimately dies as a
result of her choice, while men continue in relative lack of harm while
operating under the same choices. Sense and Sensibility, published in
1811, argues that marriage leads to a gain in agency for both women and men, as
seen through the pre-marital economic problems of the both Elinor and Marianne
as well as Edward Ferrars and the resolution of these problems upon their
respective marriages. Finally, the
men and women of Mansfield Park all
operate under a new (at times unprecedented) amount of agency, and even the
completely agency-less Fanny Price wins her own agency in the end, resulting in
her successful marriage. This
forward trend in agency in relation to marriage especially for women hints at a
burgeoning—yet still imperfect—English mindset on marital rights.
Charlotte
Smith’s Desmond marks the
all-time-low for married women’s rights within the scope of this course. As Catherine
notes in her post “Charlotte and Geraldine Parallels”, “Geraldine
endures perpetual criticism and maltreatment from her husband. Her passivity
and unfailing obedience to Mr. Verney are frustrating, as many of my classmates
have noted… Geraldine cares for her children and risks losing everything and
harming their future should she defy Mr. Verney.” While Geraldine stays at home under her husband’s tyranny,
she remains completely unable to act, and has no voice (as seen by her literal
lack of a voice through absence of letters in the first volume of the novel). Only once Mr. Verney is removed and
Geraldine begins to travel does she gain any real agency. In class, we discussed the role of
Geraldine as “The Traveler” and recognized that distance from Geraldine’s
husband meant more freedom for her to open up to her own feelings. At this point, Geraldine even begins to
have opinions of her own. For
example, she states, “But let me ask the severe female censors, whether, in
every well-written novel, vice, and
even weakness that deserve not quite
so harsh a name, are not exhibited, as subjecting those who are examples of
them to remorse, regret, and punishment—And since circumstances, more inimical
to innocence, are every day related, without any disguise, or very little, in
the public prints; since, in reading the world, a girl must see a thousand very
ugly blots, which frequently pass without censure at all…” (Smith, 223). In making bold, opinionated remarks
about her (or perhaps Smith’s) beliefs on the censoring of books, Geraldine
gains agency that she did not have when she was at home under the
absent-yet-watchful eye of her husband.
In turn, the men of this novel have all the agency they require,
regardless of their marital status.
Mr. Verney, Geraldine’s husband, does quite literally anything he
wants. He has no motivation to
remain at home with his wife, travels with his male friends, and rules over
Geraldine’s life with tyrannical severity. Even Desmond himself, although unmarried, may travel where
he pleases, voice his opinions, and even sleep with Josephine with no
retribution or judgment. Mr.
Verney’s vices ultimately return to him twofold as he dies in the end of the
novel, through which Smith exerts her authorial retribution for his
mistreatment of Geraldine.
However, Desmond comes out not only unscathed, but as a hero who wins
Geraldine’s heart and receives no punishment for his treatment of Josephine
(who herself is shipped away to Italy, never to be heard from again). Catherine astutely notes in the same
post that, “by highlighting Geraldine's sufferings in her marriage to Mr.
Verney, Smith hoped to make a case for legal reform and women's rights that
would benefit women like herself.” However, the obvious unfairness in who
receives punishment for what social crimes shows that even the most
progressively thinking women such as Smith were still unable to imagine a
completely equal treatment of male and female agency both inside and outside of
marriage.
In
Adeline Mowbray, published twenty
years later, Amelia Opie designs what I describe in my post “Yet another ‘dangerous’ novel, with a twist” as, “what at times
feels like an extended case study,” through which, “Opie follows the life of a
woman who--through one early, unforgivable choice--completely ostracizes
herself from society.” Adeline, by
nature of her education, is given quite literally all the agency in the
world. She can choose what she
wants to take in given her education by her mother and her grandmother, and
chooses to lead her life by following Glenmurray’s philosophy. Unfortunately, this philosophy shuns the
institution of marriage. Although
Glenmurray follows this philosophy with minimal backlash, as a young woman
Adeline receives incredible amounts of pain, ridicule, and banishment even from
her own mother. Ultimately,
Adeline dies. In my post “Did they get it?” I note that,
“although Adeline is treated terribly for her choices, she is juxtaposed by so many men
and women who are much worse than she…” and as such argue that Opie uses this incredible mistreatment to show
rather than tell nineteenth century English society about how backwards their
ideas on marriage are. This does
not mean to say that Opie does not believe in marriage; she goes to great
lengths to provide positive, married role models after which readers should
model themselves. Rather, Adeline Mowbray is a cautionary tale
intended to show women the status of their own agency (which is to say, they
have none without marriage).
Austinian
novels of the nineteenth century begin the new trend in showing a duality in
lack of agency within the sexes as a result of their marital status. However, Mary Jean Corbett notes in the
preface to her book Family Likeness: Sex, Marriage, and Incest from Jane Austen to Virginia Woolf that, “Austen’s interest lies especially in the marital options that create the
most agency for her female characters.” (x) Because of this, new opportunities arise for the characters
in Sense and Sensibility and Mansfield Park (among Austen’s other
works) that other authors do not allow their own characters. In Sense and Sensibility, both male and
female characters begin with a marked lack of agency, and gain new agency as a
result of their successful marriages.
Elinor and Marianne, in the beginning of the novel, lose all agency as a
result of their father’s death and their subsequent loss of the estate. Simultaneously, Edward Ferrars acts as
a slave to his Aunt, who will never allow him to marry anyone she does not
approve of by nature of the girl’s social status, and threatens to (and
ultimately does) revoke his inheritance should he choose someone she deems
unworthy. John Willoughby
similarly chooses not to marry Marianne to avoid poverty, as Pat notes is his post “The Realities of
Wealth in Sense and Sensibility.” In particular, he notes that, “[Willoughby]
even admits to Elinor that he sacrificed the thing he loved the most, Marianne,
to ‘avoid a comparative poverty’ that marrying into the Dashwood family would
bring upon him. Because he has ‘always been expensive, always in the habit of
associating with people of better income’ than himself.” Here, men as well as women are forced
to make the difficult choice between economic prosperity and happiness. In evening the playing field, Austen’s
characters become more sympathetic on all sides and allow for more commentary on
the limitations burdening marriage for all young people with or without
fortune.
Illustration of Mr. Dashwood telling Elinor: “That
is, I mean to say—your friends are all truly anxious to see you well settled”
Here, the marriage (or lack thereof) is a problem that the whole community is
involved in, as shown by Dashwood’s comment that Elinor’s friends all want to
see her married as well.
However, upon
marriage all parties (except for Willoughby) live in complete happiness having
secured their station within society.
Even Willoughby himself may live in relative comfort, and only lacks
happiness for want of Marianne rather than as a result of his own successful
marriage. Madison notes in her
post “Too sweet an ending…?” that, “even the more sinister characters in the
novel are granted happy endings,”
including Robert and Lucy, who fall back into favor with Mrs. Ferrars. This shows that Austen feels marriage
leads to happiness and freedom, regardless of actions taken beforehand or
hindrances to action caused by others.
In
Mansfield Park, Austen allows her characters the greatest amount of agency of
any novels discussed both here and in the course in general. This gives the most forward thinking,
multi-dimensional insight into the true nature of agency: how characters use their agency in their youth
determines their ultimate happiness in gaining or losing marriage later
on. For example, Mary Crawford,
although in the same social situation as Fanny, uses her agency to the
utmost. In her post “Female
Agency,” Madison rightly notices
that, “Mary Crawford often trampled on the lines of propriety when talking to
Edmund.” In turn, Elise also notes in her post “Contrast between Mary and Fanny”
that, ultimately, “Mary Crawford’s overuse of her opinions without reason or
knowledge leads to Edmund’s refusal to marry her.” Because Mary Crawford lacks any and all ability to reign in
her assertions of agency through her actions and conversation, she loses her
claim to marry Edmund.
In turn, Fanny begins with quite literally no agency at
all. She only gains agency by the
removal of Maria and Julia from the Bertram household, after which the
remaining Bertrams give her more attention for lack of other young women in the
house. Essentially, Fanny takes
agency by taking their place in the family unit. Although this gain of agency comes from no action taken by
Fanny herself, this befits the nature of her previous lack of agency; to act on
her own, Fanny must be allowed to take action in the first place. This shows that even in Austinian times
the plight of women could not be completely undone by women themselves. However, what is most important is what
Fanny does with her newly earned agency.
In refusing Henry Crawford’s proposal, Fanny secures her own future with
Edmund and as a result uses her agency to gain her own happiness through
marriage.
Works Cited:
Okin, Susan M. "Patriarchy and Married Women's Property
in England: Questions on Some Current Views." Eighteenth
Century Studies Winter 17.2
(1984): 121-38.JSTOR. Web.
Corbett, Mary Jean. Family Likeness: Sex, Marriage, and Incest from
Jane Austen to Virginia Woolf. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 2008. Print.
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