"Exactly what a brother should be"? The failures of brotherly love.
Ford, Susan Allen
"'WHAT STRANGE CREATURES brothers are!'" Mary
Crawford cries before she mocks the failures of fraternal correspondents
(MP 69-70). With that exception, she claims to be fully pleased with
Henry's brotherly behavior. "'[G]ood-nature
itself,'" her brother will fetch her harp in his barouche
(69); he is, she claims, "'in every other respect exactly what
a brother should be, . . . loves me, consults me, confides in me, and
will talk to me by the hour together'" (70). Of course,
Henry's "utmost kindness" is limited to mobility: Mary
has "tried in vain to persuade her brother to settle with her at
his own country-house" (47); unsurprisingly, "he could not
accommodate his sister in an article of such importance, but he escorted
her ... into Northamptonshire, and as readily engaged to fetch her away
again at half an hour's notice, whenever she were weary of the
place" (47). Possibly London has provided Mary with as few models
for what a brother could be as it has for a clergyman's influence.
The conduct literature of the day affords little more in the way of
help. Exactly what should a brother be? Some writers assert that the
role played by sisters or daughters is more significant to the family
than that of brothers. In his Sermons to Young Women (1766), James
Fordyce explains that "the honour and peace of a family are ...
much more dependant on the conduct of daughters than of sons" (1:
17). Writing forty years later, Jane West in her Letters to a Young Lady
(1806) agrees: "A girl is, unquestionably, a more tender care than
a boy; every error is more glaring, and comes more feelingly to our
hearts and bosoms. A false step is here irretrievable" (224). While
Tom Bertram's "extravagance" is "so great" (26)
that the "'urgency of [-his] debts'" (27) affects
the family's financial and moral government, Maria's error
provokes a more substantive reconfiguration of the family. Of course,
these sisters and daughters targeted by the conduct books are also
future mothers. In fact, in her two conduct books, Mrs. West spends more
time instructing young women how to raise sons to be good brothers than
she does reminding the young men themselves what is required.
In the world outside the novels, the world that conduct books were
trying to reach, the fraternal role underwent some change over the
course of the eighteenth century. The definition of the family altered,
as Randolph Trumbach and others have suggested, from a patriarchal and
authoritarian model to one characterized by the ties of affection. Ruth
Perry points out that in a family system defined by the conjugal bond,
the inherited ties between parents and children and among siblings
become less significant than those chosen or constructed by husband and
wile (1-2). Following evolutionary psychologist Frank J. Sulloway, Peter
W. Graham sees sibling relationships in terms of competition "for
the parental attention and favor that will help them to survive, thrive,
and eventually reproduce." Valerie Sanders argues that
"ambivalence is [the] keynote [of the sibling relationship], and
instability its underlying condition" (1). The fraternal role thus
becomes somewhat difficult to define, not to mention fraught with the
anxieties social change brings. In Austen's novels brothers are
rarely foregrounded, but those brothers--in particular those brothers
who stand as negative exemplars--might suggest some of the tensions
residing within the family, particularly for daughters and wives.
One reason for the scanty advice on sibling relationships provided
by the conduct writers is a desire to believe--perhaps contrary to
fact--that family ties are naturally loving. In The Beauties of History
(1770), L. M. Stretch declares that "Nothing can approach nearer to
sell-love than fraternal affection; and there is but a short remove from
our own concerns and happiness to theirs who came from the same stock,
and are partakers of the same blood" (1:37). The Rev. William Dodd,
in his Sermons to Young Men (1771), defines fraternal love as
"certainly one of the most natural propensities of the human
heart," which "every tiling" about our "mode of
living" is "calculated to improve and strengthen":
Born of the same parents, brothers and sisters hang at the same
breast, and drink the same milk; fed beneath the same roof, they
share the same united and tender cares, the same ideas are
impressed, and they are taught to regard each other as cemented by
ties of the most endearing and indissoluble sort. No wonder ...
that a mutual and increasing prepossession for each other gains
upon the heart; while custom unites with nature, and both are
strengthened by parental wisdom and solicitude. (54)
Many of the instructive histories included in Stretch's The
Beauties of History, Dodd's Sermons, Mrs. Pilkington's A
Mirror for the Female Sex (1799, modeled on Dodd's work), and the
1790s editions of The Beauties of History (also based on Dodd) reinforce
the triumph of brotherly affection in sacrifice, forgiveness,
protection.
The frequently quoted hymn to fraternal affection in Manfield Park
might come straight from one of these conduct books:
Children of the same family, the same blood, with the same first
associations and habits, have some means of enjoyment in their
power, which no subsequent connections can supply; and it must be
by a long and unnatural estrangement, by a divorce which no
subsequent connection can justify, if such precious remains of the
earliest attachments are ever entirely outlived. Too often, alas!
it is so.--Fraternal love, sometimes almost every thing, is at
others, worse than nothing. (273-74)
The context of this passage, however, as well as its register might
suggest a subtle irony on Austen's part. The paragraph describing
Fanny and William's felicity, from which this passage is drawn, is
preceded by the approving gaze of Sir Thomas and Edmund and followed by
that of Henry Crawford: at its beginning, "Sir Thomas could not but
observe [the relationship] with complacency, even before Edmund had
pointed it out to him" (273); at its end, 'An affection so
amiable was advancing each in the opinion of all who had hearts to value
any thing good. Henry Crawford was as much struck with it as any"
(274). Fanny here is being constructed as valuable niece and William as
worthy nephew, both repaying the "'creditable'"
patronage of Sir Thomas (7); and fraternal affection becomes a visible
moral sign of that investment. Dodd underscores such a reading:
"those who excel in Fraternal Love ... will not only have the
greatest probability of worldly success; but they will certainly find
that, which is indeed one great means of worldly advancement; they will
find real honour attending them: They will obtain all the advantages
which accompany good reputation" (1:59). Almost immediately,
worldly advancement is held out to both the Prices: within a fortnight,
Henry visits Admiral Crawford to secure William's promotion; in
less than four weeks from that vision of fraternal felicity, he offers
marriage to Fanny.
The presence or absence of fraternal affection is certainly central
to the depiction of virtue or vice, as L. M. Stretch's highly
charged language suggests: "[n-]othing ... can be more horrible
than discord and animosity among members so allied; and nothing so
beautiful as harmony and love" (1:37). (1) Edmund Bertram's
version of this sentiment is expressed more colloquially:
"'Family squabbling is the greatest evil of all, and we had
better do any thing than be altogether by the ears'" (151). Or
again, from Dodd, "as brothers are to each other the best and most
faithful of friends; so are they, when disunited, too often the most
bitter and prejudicial of enemies"; "Fraternal hatred is even
proverbial for the bitterest hatred" (1:57, 58).
Austen's novels suggest this extreme only through what seem to
be the remains of sentimental fiction. In Sense and Sensibility, the
horrors of fraternal discord appear in Colonel Brandon's inset
narrative of brotherly competition for their cousin Eliza (a cousin who
has been raised as a sister). Despite its roots in the sentimental
novel, watered by the rhetoric of conduct books, the fractured
relationship between Colonel Brandon and his elder brother is conveyed
in simple and restrained language: "'My brother had no regard
for her; his pleasures were not what they ought to have been, and from
the first he treated her unkindly'" (234). Colonel
Brandon's feeling and concern are opposed to his brother's
lack of those qualities, repetition emphasizing his condetonation of
that absence: "'He imagined, and calmly could he imagine it,
that [Eliza's] extravagance and consequent distress had obliged her
to dispose of [her allowance] for some immediate relief'"
(235). In fact, this history pays more attention to the fallen woman
than the treacherous brother. Brandon's narrative tracks the
sister-love Eliza; his brother returns to his story only to die, a death
remarked merely because it leaves to the younger brother "'the
possession of the family property'" (236). Edward and Robert
Ferrars enact a comic version of this brotherly discord, fraternal
treachery that allows the happy ending. In Northanger Abbey, Austen
invokes this narrative to parody it. As soon as Captain Frederick Tilney
is introduced to the novel and to Catherine, we're assured that
"his admiration of her was not of a very dangerous kind; not likely
to produce animosities between the brothers, nor persecutions to the
lady. He cannot be the instigator of the three villains in
horsemen's great coats, by whom she will hereafter be forced into a
travelling-chaise and four, which will drive off with incredible
speed" (133).
The acknowledgment that fraternal bonds might need to be
strengthened and the advice that does exist in the literature of conduct
and education together provide a picture of both what a brother should
be and where he might fail. Mary Crawford's list of the acts of the
ideal brother--he loves, consults, confides, talks--comes too short.
According to the conduct writers, a good brother sets an example, offers
assistance and advice, and is available for protection. The brothers
depicted in Austen's novels often fail in their performance of
these roles. Moreover, envy and tyranny can infect the fraternal
relationship.
It's not surprising in a genre that aims to provide a model
for behavior that one significant duty of a brother (or of a sister) is
to provide an example of good conduct. Mentoria: or, the Young
Lady's Instructor (1778), a book given by Jane Austen in 1801 to
her eight-year-old niece Anna (Gilson 433), teaches through the mode of
a dramatic conversation between Mentoria, her pupils, Lady Louisa and
Lady Mary, and their brother, Lord George, an occasional visitor to the
schoolroom. (2) The obvious duty to "love and be kind to" our
brothers and sisters is immediately followed up with an ethic of
instruction: "Be ... particularly cautious to set a good example,
to excite emulation in those who are your elders, and to afford a
pattern worthy of imitation to those who are younger" (232-33).
Jane West ends her Letters" Addressed to a Young Man, for which the
putative audience is her own son Thomas, by reminding him of this awful
responsibility: "the conduct of one often leads a whole family, by
imitation, to vice or to virtue" (3:394). So Tom Bertram's
"inclination to act" (144), aided by Henry Crawford's
enthusiasm, entangles his siblings.
Another duty owed by both brothers and sisters is assistance to
siblings. Hester Chapone's Letters" on the Improvement of the
Mind (1773) tells its reader to be a "useful and engaging friend
... particularly to your sister and brothers, who ought ever--unless
they should prove unworthy--to be your nearest and dearest friends,
whose interest and welfare you are bound to desire as much as your
own" (1:85). Dodd defines this aspect of brotherly love as
advantageous to the entire family: "That family can scarcely fail
of fortune and felicity, who, brought up together in love, are early
taught to consider each other's interests as one, and continue
through life mutually to serve and assist each other" (Sermons
1:56). John Dashwood's conversation with Fanny about his promise to
his dying father invokes this language, assist and assistance ringing
six times in the space of five pages. In the last of these, John
Dashwood repeats the lesson that Fanny has taught him more effectively
than any moralizer: "'I will strictly fulfil my engagement by
such acts of assistance and kindness to them as you have
described'" (14).
An obstacle to the kind of friendly assistance that the conduct and
educational literature requires is envy, the fraternal failing most
commonly cited. Thomas Gisborne speculates that diversity of profession
limits competitive behavior: brothers "may forward each other; but
they cannot clash. They move on in parallel lines" (Female Sex
387): (3) The prodigal son parable, however, is commonly related in
these books as a warning against fraternal envy, and its emotional truth
recognized. For example, even though Mentoria retells the story with
advantages, giving the elder brother "an obdurate heart" and
having him "exaggerate his brother's transgressions"
(215), Lord George asks Mentoria whether the elder brother "had not
... some cause to be displeased" (215). The answer is no. Dodd
warns against the result: "when brother is set against brother, ...
the house, divided against itself, totters to its fall" (Sermons
1:57). Among Austen's fictional brothers, envy is rare, or at least
rarely depicted. Tom Bertram, the most prodigal of brothers and sons, is
welcomed back and nursed by Edmund. In Pride and Prejudice, the
relationship between Darcy and Wickham, old Mr. Darcy's godson,
brought up as "'inmates of the same house, sharing the same
amusements, objects of the same parental care'" (90), is
defined by Wickham in terms of "'jealousy'":
"'Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me less, his son might have
borne with me better; but his father's uncommon attachment to me,
irritated him.... He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition in
which we stood--the sort of preference which was often given
me'" (89-90). Elizabeth Bennet finds this familiar narrative
all too credible.
Brotherly advice is another kind of assistance recommended by the
conduct writers. It's no accident that in his Sermons Fordyce uses
the fraternal relationship as a model that justifies his advice-giving.
Fraternal affection disguises, or at least mediates, the authority of
the sermonizer: "Suppose me speaking to you as a brother"
(1:85); "hearken to a brother" (1:127). This brotherly
function is attractive and potentially practical. Dr. John Gregory, in A
Father's Legacy to His Daughters, instructs his daughters to make
confidants of their brothers, who can provide a perspective useful, but
not always safely available, to young women. "If your brothers
should have the good fortune to have hearts susceptible of friendship,
to possess truth, honour, sense, and delicacy of sentiment, they are the
fittest and most unexceptionable confidants" (28-29).
Austen's bad brothers often neglect this role. Despite their
vaunted closeness, Mary Crawford does not confide to her brother her
feelings for Edmund, even twice breaking off in embarrassment as she
realizes she has almost revealed her plans to live at Thornton Lacey
(339, 342); Henry seems not to notice any special interest his sister
might have in his friend until late in the novel (471). Similarly,
Catherine Morland confides her interest in Henry Tilney to Isabella
rather than to her own brother. Although Dr. Gregory argues that a
brotherly confidant can provide "every advantage which you could
hope for from the friendship of men, without any of the inconveniencies
that attend such connexions with our sex" (29), he is careful in
his use of the conditional: "If your brothers should have ...
hearts"; "If your brothers should ... possess truth, honour,
sense, and delicacy." His children were not yet adults at the time
of composition, and his virtuous "if" suggests some doubt of
the fraternal care his sons will provide, a doubt about their very moral
identity.
Under the terms of primogeniture, brothers--particularly the eldest
brothers--are deemed protectors by the writers of conduct books. One of
Jane West's concluding reminders to her son is that "[t]he
duty of an eldest son is in some degree paternal" (3:394). (4) When
Edmund Bertram, for example, presumes to represent Sir Thomas's
likely objection to the theatrical project, Tom asserts his position in
the family: "'Manage your own concerns, Edmund, and I'll
take care of the rest of the family.... I have quite as great an
interest in being careful of his house as you can have'"
(149). Given the politics of gender, protection--particularly sexual
protection--is necessarily part of a brother's relationship to his
sister. Dodd urges "a solicitous endeavour to guard the honour, to
defend the rights, to promote the happiness of those sisters, who have a
greater, a more affecting claim upon your love, as being by providence
ordained more defenceless, to bless you with the exquisite honour and
happiness of protecting them" (Sermons 1:60). (5)
But brotherly protection might sometimes demand more than
safeguarding sexuality or giving advice on matters of conduct or love.
Unusual among these sermonizers and educators, Gisborne in An Enquiry
into the Duties of Men (1794) interprets protection in a
practical--i.e., a financial-sense. Instructing the private gentleman on
his parental duty, he charges him to "studiously cherish in the
elder brother an affectionate, and, as it were, parental regard for his
other sons and daughters, that, in the event of his own death, they may
not be at a loss for a protector" (2:460). Although he doesn't
challenge this system of inheritance, Gisborne recognizes the moral
obligation to mitigate its inequities (2:464-65). This advice seems born
of necessity. In A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1794) Mary
Wollstonecraft contends that girls are often "dependent on not only
the reason, but the bounty of their brothers" (66) and, earlier, in
A Vindication of the Rights of Men (1790), points to the "unnatural
crimes" of primogeniture in which "[t]he younger children have
been sacrificed to the eldest son" (46). Clara Reeve remarks in
Plans of Education (1792) that "women stand in need of protectors
in every stage of their journey through life." Where are those
protectors to be found? She states, baldly, "Brothers generally
look on sisters as incumbrances on families" (122). Wollstonecraft
presents the picture of a sister "viewed with averted looks as an
intruder, an unnecessary burden on the benevolence of the master of the
house, and his new partner" (URW66).
In Pride and Prejudice, of course, after Charlotte Lucas accepts
Mr. Collins's proposal out of motives of prudence, her brothers are
among the members of the family who celebrate: they are, pointedly,
"relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte's dying an old
maid" (137), their fear that they will be responsible for her
support. But Austen explores the inequities and tensions of
primogeniture most fully and with the bitterest irony in Sense and
Sensibility, in which John Dashwood's desire to look
"'liberal and handsome!'" (6) is countered by the
supposed needs of his own child (and future children) as Fanny asks,
"How could he answer it to himself to rob his child, and his only
child too, of so large a sum?" (9). The brother's wife, as
Mary Wollstonecraft predicts, defines these sisters as intruders:
"what possible claim could the Miss Dashwoods, who were related to
him only by half blood, which she considered as no relationship at all,
have on his generosity to so large an amount" (9-10). John Dashwood
limits his "'anxiety for [his sisters'] welfare and
prosperity'" (258) to a desire that others will supply them.
What "affection and pleasure" remains is "just enough to
make a very creditable appearance in Mr. Gray's shop" (252),
underscoring the way economic realities have redefined affective
relationships.
It's left to the women writers of conduct books to address the
issue of fraternal tyranny. Murry's Mentoria, indeed, condemns such
behavior without respect to gender: "You are bound ... to instruct
and protect those who are younger. You should treat them on all
occasions with tenderness and love; nor ever seek an opportunity to
dispute with, or tease them" (232-33). Wollstonecraft sees tyranny
in the conventions of sexual behavior produced by a depraved system of
education: "a mixture of gallantry and despotism ... leads the very
men who are the slaves of their mistresses to tyrannize over their
sisters, wives, and daughters" (VRW 24). While the conservative
Jane West stands opposed to Wollstonecraft in almost every way, she too
criticizes a domestic despotism inculcated by education:
I heard an eminent divine observe, "That men are taught to be
domestic tyrants in early life, by the injudicious conduct of
parents; who accustom their boys to expect such obsequiousness from
their sisters, as imprints their minds with indelible opinions of
the natural intrinsic superiority of man." "Do not regard what the
girls say to you," is the common paternal precept; "Do as your
brother bids you," is as frequently the injunction of the mother.
(Letters to a Young Lady 3:220)
Although she targets the parents, and particularly the mother, Mrs.
West agrees with Wollstonecraft that brotherly behavior is "the
germ of domestic tyranny" when "contempt [is] one of the
domestic lessons that are daily inculcated in the family" (222,
221):
Surely, it would improve the boisterous schoolboy, if he were
convinced that his manly dignity would be more unequivocally shown
by promoting the happiness of his sisters than by burying their
dolls, and putting pattens on their cats. Let him be taught (and he
cannot imbibe this notion too early) that nature has designed him
to be the protector and friend of women; and let every attempt to
tyrannize over or insult the females of his family be reprobated,
as a mark of mean selfish cowardice; not, as is too generally the
case, recorded as a proof of wit, spirit, and intelligence.
(221-22)
West's asperity at what others might see as lively or spirited
boys breaks through.
In Sense and Sensibility, a novel in which Austen demonstrates
anything but the love of children that her Victorian nephews and nieces
celebrated in her, Lady Middleton's two boisterous boys tyrannize
over the Misses Steele, with the "judicious" complicity of
their victims (138) and the "maternal complacency" of their
mother. Lady Middleton has not profited from Jane West's
instruction. Though seeing "all the impertinent incroachments and
mischievous tricks to which her cousins submitted, ... their sashes
untied, their hair pulled about their ears, their work-bags searched,
and their knives and scissars stolen away, [she] felt no doubt of its
being a reciprocal enjoyment" (139).
"John is in such spirits to-day!" said she, on his taking Miss
Steele's pocket handkerchief, and throwing it out of window--"He is
full of monkey tricks."
And soon afterwards, on the second boy's violently pinching one
of the same lady's fingers, she fondly observed, "How playful
William is!" (139)
No wonder perhaps that Lady Middleton's "'sweet
little Annamaria'" has already perfected the tactic of
"violent screams" in response to any "emergency"
(139-40). Such behavior looks forward also to the crude brotherly
quizzing of John Thorpe, whose "fraternal tenderness" is
demonstrated by his "ask[ing] each of [his younger sisters] how
they did, and observ[ing] that they both looked very ugly" (44).
The destructive and even violent willfulness of these brothers seems
destined to lead to the kind of domestic tyranny West sees as too
common.
Austen, then, provides us with a good sampling of bad brotherly
behavior. Ruth Perry argues that "[b]rotherly love became a moral
litmus test in eighteenth-century fiction, because although not required
by law, it had the weight of custom as well as necessity behind it....
[I]t came to be a conventional ideal in fiction as it was eroded in
life" (144). In Austen's fiction, brotherly love is an ideal
often eroded. Most of Austen's bad brothers, however, are
nonetheless relatively harmless to their siblings--sometimes because
they're so recognizably bad, sometimes because their fraternal
deficiencies are played for comic or parodic purposes. John
Dashwood's refusal to fulfill his brotherly duties--a failure which
sets the plot in motion--is a marked exception, but his sisters are able
to proceed to felicity without his assistance. More interesting,
perhaps, and more troubling are brothers like Edmund Bertram (of whom
James Morland is a sketchy progenitor) and Fitzwilliam Darcy--brothers
who are defined as friendly, affectionate, helpful, and trustworthy but
who fail to provide the fraternal support required. Such a brother,
apparently amiable and principled, might be distracted by the trajectory
of his own romantic plot so that he not merely neglects but even
exploits his sister. Or such a brother, despite his love for his sister,
might in the pride of his intellect inhibit her development as his
equal. These are bad brothers in good brothers' breeches, (6) and
through them Austen illuminates in yet another way the inequities of her
world.
Edmund Bertram is introduced into Mansfield Park as he consoles and
advises Fanny "with all the gentleness of an excellent nature"
(16). By virtue of Edmund's presence in Fanny's daily life, he
becomes even more important than William: "always true to her
interests, and considerate of her feelings, trying to make her good
qualities understood, and to conquer the diffidence which prevented
their being more apparent; giving her advice, consolation, and
encouragement.... [H]is attentions were ... of the highest importance in
assisting the improvement of her mind, and extending its pleasures"
(24). Chapter 2 concludes by linking William and Edmund as fraternal
sharers of Fanny's heart. Both we and Fanny carry this image of
Edmund into the about-to-commence plot of the novel.
As that plot develops, however, and particularly once his
attraction to Mary Crawford takes over, Edmund's definition as
ideal brother suffers. There's no evidence, for example, that the
kind of brotherly tutelage or care that he lavishes on Fanny is extended
to either Maria or Julia; he doesn't recognize the feelings of
jealousy or rejection that afflict either of his sisters. More
important, distracted by his desire for Miss Crawford, he fails to heed
the strictures of the conduct writers to protect his sisters from men of
suspect morality: he ignores the attentions Henry Crawford pays to his
sisters although he knows very well that Henry has been brought up by
the libertine Admiral, a more dangerous education than that Mary has
received from her aunt.
Even Edmund's attentive care for his adoptive sister suffers
under the pressure of his interest in Mary Crawford. He re-appropriates
the mare he's acquired for Fanny, for example, in order to teach
Miss Crawford to ride, and his neglect of Fanny becomes matter for their
love play (111). Further, in a clear parallel with James Morland,
Edmund's loyalty to his adoptive sister is replaced by his attempts
to please the brother of the woman he desires. James not only pushes
Catherine toward intimacy with his friend but also allows her to suffer
the physical restraint of Isabella and, more seriously, John Thorpe
(101). (7) Edmund, despite Fanny's dismayed resistance, encourages
intimacy with Henry. In the face of Henry's "very thorough
attack" on Fanny after his reading from Henry VIII, Edmund
"sank as quietly as possible into a corner, turned his back, and
took up a newspaper, ... earnestly trying to bury every sound of the
business from himself in murmurs of his own, over the various
advertisements" (395). Somewhat disturbingly, Edmund envisions the
courtship of Fanny as a battle--indeed a struggle against Fanny herself,
whose "'early attachments, and habits, [are] in battle
array,'" which his "'theoretical ...
knowledge'" could have helped Henry win (402). There's no
uncertainty as to which side Edmund takes: "'[L]et him succeed
at last'" (401).
And what of Darcy, a character whose virtues and reformed manners
are necessary to the novel's happy ending? His brother-function is
a significant aspect of his nature. As a principal part of his strategy
for blackening Darcy's character, Wickham, with characteristic
subtlety, both acknowledges and undermines Darcy's brotherly
identity: "'He has ... brotherly pride, which with some
brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his
sister; and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive
and best of brothers'" (91). Indeed, at Pemberley,
Elizabeth's new perspective on Darcy begins with the fraternal:
'As a brother, a landlord, a master, ... how many people's
happiness were in his guardianship!" (277). There are earlier
indications of the quality of his brotherly role: Elizabeth has, of
course, watched him write a long letter to his sister (52); his own
description of Georgiana's "'affectionate
heart'" as well as his attention to both her
"'credit and feelings'" (224, 225) in ending the
affair with Wickham suggests a loving connection.
But there is some evidence--evidence not supplied by Wickham--that
hints at a more complex brotherly identity, shaded by the paternal
authority inherent in the relationship. Darcy describes himself as
"'a brother whom [Georgiana] almost looked up to as a
father'" (224-25). Such paternal fraternal authority might be
stifling: at the novel's conclusion, we're told that Darcy
"always inspired in [Georgiana] a respect which almost overcame her
affection" (430). Indeed, the "liberties" Elizabeth takes
with Darcy are those that "a brother will not always
allow"--apparently not even after his reform--"in a sister
more than ten years younger than himself" (430). We might recall
that the domestic tyranny described by Wollstonecraft and West is
discerned first in brothers, its object shifting, as bad brothers become
husbands, from sisters to wives. What, we might ask, will become of Mrs.
Darcy?
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NOTES
(1.) "Affection, Fraternal" is the fourth category
covered in Stretch's alphabetically-organized Beauties of History.
It is preceded by 'Affection, Conjugal," "Affection,
Parental," and 'Affection, Filial" and followed by
'Ambition," "Beneficence," "Chastity,"
etc.
(2.) The copy of Mentoria that Jane Austen gave to her niece Anna
is on display at Jane Austen's House, Chawton.
(3.) Graham also makes the point, from a Darwinian perspective,
that "[s]isters in a family ecosystem are bound to compete unless
felicitous circumstances intervene."
(4.) Dr. Gregory's Legacy to his Daughters was published by
his eldest son, James Gregory.
(5.) There's a bonus for such protection: like Mary and
Martha, the sisters of Lazarus, "good sisters ... [b]y their piety
and their prayers ... can often ... raise [a brother] from the death of
sin to the life of righteousness and virtue" (60).
(6.) My thanks to Laurie Kaplan for this descriptive phrase.
(7.) In his concern for the woman he hopes to marry, James is
"quite angry" at Catherine (101), an emotion suggesting not
only the conflict between the conjugal and the fraternal but perhaps his
own tendency toward fraternal tyranny.
Susan Allen Ford is Professor of English and Writing Center
Coordinator at Delta State University in Cleveland, Mississippi. This
essay is based partly on her research while a Visiting Fellow at Chawton
House Library.