Sense & Sensibility - Reflections

 








from: http://omero.humnet.unipi.it/matdid/778/powerpoint_SandS.ppt

Sense & Sensibility -- context, theme, limitations

 

Copy of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen on Prezi

Jane Austen-- An Intro (Prezi)

Sense & Sensibility Famous Quotes

The dichotomy between "sense" and "sensibility"

The dichotomy between "sense" and "sensibility" is one of the lenses through which this novel is most commonly analyzed. The distinction is most clearly symbolized by the psychological contrast between the novel's two chief characters, Elinor and Marianne Dashwood. According to this understanding, Elinor, the older sister, represents qualities of "sense": reason, restraint, social responsibility, and a clear-headed concern for the welfare of others. In contrast, Marianne, her younger sister, represents qualities of "sensibility": emotion, spontaneity, impulsiveness, and rapturous devotion. Whereas Elinor conceals her regard for Edward Ferrars, Marianne openly and unashamedly proclaims her passion for John Willoughby. Their different attitudes toward the men they love, and how to express that love, reflect their opposite temperaments.

This dichotomy between "sense" and "sensibility" has cultural and historical resonances as well. Austen wrote this novel around the turn of the eighteenth century, on the cusp between two cultural movements: Classicism and Romanticism. Elinor represents the characteristics associated with eighteenth-century neo-classicism, including rationality, insight, judgment, moderation, and balance. She never loses sight of propriety, economic practicalities, and perspective, as when she reminds Marianne that their mother would not be able to afford a pet horse or that it is indecorous for her to go alone with Willoughby to Allenham. It was during the Classical period and its accompanying cultural Enlightenment that the novel first developed as a literary genre: thus, with the character of Elinor, Austen gestures toward her predecessors and acknowledges the influence of their legacy on her generation. In contrast, Marianne represents the qualities associated with the emerging "cult of sensibility," embracing romance, imagination, idealism, excess, and a dedication to the beauty of nature: Marianne weeps dramatically when her family must depart from "dear, dear Norland" and willingly offers a lock of her hair to her lover. Austen's characterization of Marianne reminds us that she was the contemporary of Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Walter Scott, the luminaries of the English Romantic literary scene. Austen's depiction of Elinor and Marianne thus reflects the changing literary landscape that served as a backdrop for her life as a writer.

However, this novel cannot simply be understood as a straightforward study in contrast. Elinor, though representing sense, does not lack passion, and Marianne, though representing sensibility, is not always foolish and headstrong. Austen's antitheses do not represent epigrammatic conclusions but a starting- point for dialogue. Although Austen is famous for satirizing the "cult of sensibility," in this novel she seems to argue not for the dismissal of sensibility but for the creation of a balance between reason and passion. Fanny Dashwood's violent outbreak of feeling towards the end of the novel reveals that too little feeling is as dangerous as too much. Both Elinor and Marianne achieve happiness at the end of the novel, but they do so only by learning from one another: together they discover how to feel and express their sentiments fully while also retaining their dignity and self-control. The novel's success is not a result of the triumph of sense over sensibility or of their division; rather, we remember Sense and Sensibility as a conjunction of terms that serve together as the compound subject of Austen's novel.

adapted from spark notes

Analysis by Chapter - Sense & Sensibility

Chapters 1-5
The opening pages of Sense and Sensibility are concerned with the laws of inheritance and succession that govern the fate of the Dashwood family property. According to the laws of male primogeniture effective in the mid-nineteenth century, estates went to the closest male descendant of the original owner. Since Old Mr. Dashwood has no sons, his estate is bequeathed to his nephew, Henry Dashwood. Henry, in turn, leaves the estate to his eldest son, John. However, as Austen notes, Henry Dashwood's money was far more vital to his daughters than to his son, because John was already provided for both by his mother's fortune--which he inherited as eldest son--and by the money he received by marrying his own wife. (In general, a man inherited all of his wife's money upon marriage, though the wife usually entered into the marriage with a "settlement," a legal document ensuring that some of her property would revert to her or her children following her husband's death.) In this case, the money that Mr. Henry Dashwood's late first wife brought to the marriage was settled on their son John, and therefore could not be used to help his second wife or his daughters by that second wife. Since Henry's second wife and their three daughters could not inherit any of the money from that first marriage, they are in much greater need of the money from Old Mr. Dashwood's estate.
The opening discussion of money and marriage immediately establishes the important role that ordinary economic concerns will play in Austen's novel. Unlike the authors of Gothic and sentimental novels fashionable in her day, Austen refuses to romanticize; she recognizes that material realities constrain love and marriage. Nonetheless, she allows some of this sentimentality to seep into the novel, and the tension between reasonable economic concerns and overly romantic dreaming will constitute an important theme in the novel.
Indeed, this tension is already apparent in the characters of Elinor and Marianne, between the older sister's "sense" and the younger sister's "sensibility," the duality which the novel's title refers to. Elinor, age nineteen, is described as having a "strength of understanding" and "coolness of judgment", as well as the ability to govern and control her feelings. She modestly states that she "greatly esteems" Edward Ferrars, a remark typical of her rational, sensible attitude. In contrast, her younger sister Marianne, who more closely resembles their mother, is "everything but prudent." She longs for a man with taste, grace, spirit, and fire in his eyes, and considers her sister cold-hearted in her calm and tempered regard for Edward Ferrars. Their younger sister Margaret, age thirteen, also shares Marianne's excessive romanticism. Elinor thus stands out in her family as the only sensible and rational woman.
The sensibility of Marianne and Mrs. Dashwood manifests itself in their excessive mourning over the deaths of the two men, in contrast to Elinor's more silent grief. Not only are they overcome by sadness at the loss of first Old Mr. Dashwood and then Henry, but they then carry on dramatically about having to leave Norland and move to the smaller cottage. Before departing, Marianne wanders the grounds of Norland uttering a histrionic elegy: "Dear, dear Norland... Oh! happy house... And you, ye well-known trees!" Elinor, however, experiences a far more subdued depression--though she is leaving behind not just her home but also a man she has grown to deeply care for and admire.
The early chapters also display the wry irony for which Austen is so famous as a novelist. She is unsparingly critical of the characters she dislikes, but conveys her criticism with a pointed subtlety, which makes it all the more forceful. For example, in the opening chapter, Austen sketches the character of John Dashwood in three masterful sentences, achieving a biting acerbity: the author begins elliptically with a double negative, only slyly to refute it: "He was not an ill-disposed young man, unless to be rather cold-hearted and rather selfish is to be ill-disposed..." She then ends the paragraph by explicitly skewering both John and his wife: "Mrs. John Dashwood was a strong caricature of himself; more narrow-minded and selfish." Austen thus relies on understatement and irony to reveal her feelings towards her more disagreeable characters.

Chapters 6-10

Clearly evident in these chapters are Austen's satiric voice and her keen understanding of human nature, particularly when she comments on the role of Lady Middleton's son as a conversation piece between the Dashwoods and the Middletons. She writes that:

Conversation... [was not lacking], for Sir John was very chatty, and Lady Middleton had taken the wise precaution of bringing with her their eldest child, a fine little boy about six years old; by which means there was one subject always to be recurred to by the ladies in case of extremity, for they had to enquire his name and age, admire his beauty, and ask him questions which his mother answered for him... On every formal visit a child ought to be of the party, by way of provision for discourse. In the present case it took up ten minutes to determine whether the boy were most like his father or mother, and in what particular he resembled either, for of course every body differed, and every body was astonished at the opinion of the others.

Here, Austen's use of the overarching, gnomic statements establishes a piercing irony. She writes that on every formal visit a child ought to be of the party, but knows, of course, that no one really cares which parent a child more closely resembles; Austen mocks all the ludicrous and rather irrelevant conversations devoted to this question.
Austen explains that Sir John tried to invite other guests to his home to greet the Dashwoods, but it was moonlight so everyone was already engaged. (Since moonlight made it easier to travel at night, social events were frequently scheduled on days around a full moon.) During this busy social period, Sir John was unable to invite any guests beyond his mother-in-law and his good friend Brandon; this is another subtle way of telling the reader that this family is not the most interesting or agreeable company.
Austen's opinion of her characters nearly always coincides with that of her heroine, Elinor Dashwood. Like the omniscient Austen, Elinor can appreciate the nobility of Colonel Brandon's gravity and reserve. Unlike Marianne, appearances do not dazzle the oldest sister: even though Willoughby at first seems like a considerate and kind gentleman, she immediately detects and becomes suspicious of his impulsivity and lack of prudence. In these chapters, as well as throughout the book, one can ascertain Austen's opinions of her characters by examining those of Elinor Dashwood.
As Elinor comes to appreciate Colonel Brandon as a man of good sense, Willoughby is increasingly characterized by excessive sensibility. Brandon, like herself, is well-read and wise, whereas Willoughby is overly romantic and headstrong like Marianne. Ironically, both of these men are attracted to Marianne, though Willoughby has much more in common with her. Marianne's own preference for Willoughby, and its disastrous consequences, reveal the danger of excessive sensibility and the importance of looking beyond appearances when judging human character.

Chapters 11-15

Elinor and Colonel Brandon's discussion of "second attachments" is ironic in light of the eventual developments of the novel, for nearly every character except Elinor will ultimately fall in love more than once: Marianne has fallen for John Willoughby but will grow to love the more sensible and constant Colonel; the Colonel loves Marianne because, as we will soon learn, she reminds him of a woman he loved before; Edward Ferrars will marry Elinor only after a long engagement to Lucy Steele; John Willoughby professes his devotion to Marianne but then marries the wealthy Miss Sophia Grey; and even Mr. Henry Dashwood had two wives. In her discussion with the Colonel, Elinor seems to have no problem with second attachments, yet it is only she who marries the very first man she knows and loves.
When Marianne uses the term "attachment," she is referring to the deeply individualized, subjective feeling of falling in love, a term closely linked to the novel's notion of "sensibility." The counterpart of this term is "connection," which refers to a public bond that also entails an emotional "attachment," and is closely linked to the notion of "sense." Marianne's relationship with Willoughby is described as an "attachment," whereas, when Elinor speaks of her relationship to Edward, she points out the lack of any formal "connection" between them.
As in all of Austen's novels, marriage here is closely bound up with financial considerations. When reflecting on her sister's relationship with Willoughby, Elinor realizes that "marriage might not be immediately in [the pair's] power." This preoccupation with money in relation to marriage was highly warranted in Austen's day; marriage was for life, and insurance and social security did not exist; a couple needed a guaranteed source of income before they could settle down together. Jane Austen understood this problem personally. Her older sister Cassandra's engagement stretched on for several years because the marriage was postponed for lack of money.
Although Willoughby ultimately marries for money, he seems oblivious to all practical concerns in the early days of his relationship with Marianne. He offers her the gift of a horse even though, as Elinor reminds her sister, there is no way the Dashwoods can afford its upkeep. The horse is named Queen Mab, a reference to the fanciful "fairies' midwife" from Romeo and Juliet (Act I Scene 4), who supposedly rides her chariot across lovers' brains to create their magical dreams. These dreams, however, according to Shakespeare's Mercutio, are "begot of nothing but fantasy" and are "more inconstant than the wind," just as Marianne's dream of owning the horse can never come true and her Willoughby will prove a mercurial and inconstant lover. Given Willoughby's unfaithfulness, it is ironic that he insists that Mrs. Dashwood promise never to alter a single stone in Barton Cottage; a man who abandons one lover for another has hardly the right to demand that a building remain unchanged.
These chapters serve as a lens through which to study one of the most important themes in the novel, the role of appearances in the assessment and judgment of character. Elinor consistently and fiercely refrains from judging other characters on the basis of appearances alone. Although Mrs. Jennings claims early on that Colonel Brandon is interested in Marianne, Elinor is not convinced of this fact until Brandon approaches her directly to discuss Marianne's romantic proclivities. Similarly, although Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret conclude that Marianne and Willoughby are engaged, Elinor remains skeptical so long as the two refrain from formally announcing their engagement. Her discussion with her mother about Marianne's relationship to Willoughby in Chapter 15 reveals that while Mrs. Dashwood readily bases her faith on looks and gestures, Elinor requires that feelings be explicitly articulated. Mrs. Dashwood draws conclusions based on appearances alone, while Elinor suspends judgment until these appearances are confirmed by words. This is yet another example of the dichotomy in the novel's title.

Chapters 16-19

At the beginning of the chapter, Marianne behaves as she believes a disappointed lover ought to act. She cultivates her own grief by reading only what she and Willoughby read together and by singing only their songs at the piano. She makes sure that she does not sleep at all on the first night after his departure and draws her mother and sister into her own gloom. Marianne makes herself and those around her as miserable as possible, unlike Elinor, who conceals her grief from her family; when she believes Edward no longer cares for her, she sits alone at her drawing table in silent thought.
One of the governing themes of these chapters is the value of privacy, but also the confusions that result from secrecy and concealment. Since Marianne conceals any sort of understanding that may exist between herself and Willoughby about their status as a couple, Mrs. Dashwood and Elinor can only speculate about their status based on her misery and her remark to Mrs. Jennings about his expected return in a few weeks. Likewise, Elinor does not greet Edward with the warm and open regard of a lover but instead awaits his reactio; but as he is not forthcoming with his own emotions, this tactic leaves her to wonder if his feelings have changed. Marianne finds Edward's reserve puzzling as well.
In a further instance of willful concealment, Edward clearly dissembles when he claims that the lock of hair in his ring once belonged to his sister, an echo of Margaret's eager whisper to Elinor that she saw Willoughby remove a lock of Marianne's hair. This preoccupation with secrets is evident also in the behavior of the Palmers: Mrs. Jennings leans towards Elinor and speaks in a low voice to inform her that Mrs. Palmer is pregnant, and Mr. Palmer hides his face behind a newspaper for the duration of their visit. Everyone in these chapters seems bent on concealing their own situation from the eyes of others; the ensuing misunderstandings and ambiguities fuel the plot the novel.
The earlier Shakespearean reference to Queen Mab receives a second mention when the Dashwood sisters see a man approaching on horseback during their walk, and Marianne is convinced that it must be her beloved Willoughby. "Queen Mab" was the name of the horse that Willoughby was to give her, yet the horse was never more than a dream, for the Dashwoods could not afford such a gift. In this chapter, Marianne's identification of the horse's rider proves to be yet another vain fantasy like Queen Mab's dreams, for it is not Willoughby but Edward Ferrars who rides up to greet them.
When Edward first rides up to the Dashwood sisters, he comments on the dirty lanes he had to traverse to reach Barton Cottage. Roads are essential to the action of the novel because they facilitate the connections among characters. Austen structures the novel according to journeys, including the Dashwoods' journey from Norland to Barton, Willoughby's and Edward's journeys to Barton, and Elinor and Marianne's journey to London with Mrs. Jennings. Although Mrs. Dashwood sells their carriage when they leave Norland, the Dashwood sisters are still able to maintain a lively social life because of the journeys that Brandon, Willoughby, Edward, the Palmers, and the Steeles undertake to visit Barton. This prevalence of journeys is significant: in Austen's day, improved roads linked parishes and towns to one another and to the nexus of all connections, London. Austen was thus highly aware of the changes roads could bring to people's lives. In a novel built around attachments and connections, dirty lanes are a feature of the landscape as well as a plot device.
Chapters 20-22
In contrast to the Dashwood sisters, the Steeles lack education, refinement, and integrity. Anne Steele is nearly thirty, plain-looking, and rather simple-minded, whereas the Dashwood girls are in their late teens, beautiful, and insightful. Twenty-three-year-old Lucy Steele, although shrewd, smart, and pretty, lacks any real elegance and grace and never received the benefits of a good education. In their shameless obsequiousness toward Lady Middleton, the Steele sisters provide a definite contrast with the polite yet always honest Dashwood girls.
When Elinor comments on Lucy's lack of education, she is not referring to formal education in "public" schools such as Eton or universities such as Oxford; these were reserved solely for genteel men. In Austen's day, few people perceived the need for higher education for women. Austen herself studied briefly under the private tutelage of a Mrs. Cawley, the sister of one of her uncles, and spent a short period of time at a boarding school in Reading; this was her only education outside of her family. Within her family, however, she studied drawing, painting, and piano. Women of the genteel classes were expected to acquire these skills, or "accomplishments." In this novel, Elinor is accomplished in drawing while Marianne is an accomplished pianist. But the Steeles have no such skills to recommend them. Since the main purpose of these accomplishments was to help a woman acquire a husband, Elinor had even further reason to be surprised when the unaccomplished Lucy Steele announced her secret engagement to Edward Ferrars.
Austen ends Part I of the novel with Elinor's disappointment and astonishment upon learning of Lucy's secret engagement to Edward. Although this chapter (22) links directly to the next (23), Austen interrupts the plot at this point to focus on her central character. Lucy's revelation is a critical turning point in Elinor's thinking even if not in the development of the story because the eldest Miss Dashwood's slim hopes of eventually marrying Edward are now completely dashed. Only in the next chapter will she begin to digest this news with her characteristic sense and rationality: she reasons that Edward's engagement to Lucy must have been the product of a youthful infatuation rather than a lasting, genuine affection.

Chapters 23-27

Even when Lucy Steele is revealing her greatest secret to Elinor, she must do so in hushed tones and with an atmosphere of concealment. As the rest of the dinner party plays cards, Lucy whispers to Elinor the story of her long and secret engagement to Edward. Although Lucy describes the history of their relationship accurately, her claims about Edward's steadfast faithfulness and their mutual affection are as fabricated as the basket in her hands; Edward, as Elinor assures herself, has eyes for her alone.
Marianne's name suits her well: like the Mariana of Shakespeare's Measure for Measure , who waits by the moated grange for her lover, Austen's heroine pines away for Willoughby and awaits his visit from the moment she first arrives in town with Mrs. Jennings and Elinor. Marianne's name is also a mirror image of Annamaria, Lady Middleton's spoiled young daughter, who will be "miserable" if her filigree basket is not completed before she goes to bed. By this close kinship of names, Austen suggests that Marianne's excessive sensibility and romanticism resembles the eagerness and impatience of a spoiled little girl.
Willoughby does not appear in any of these chapters, yet he figures prominently in the thoughts of those characters who do. Mrs. Jennings implies that Marianne would welcome the opportunity to travel to town with her in the hope of seeing Willoughby, and Marianne is enthusiastic about the prospect for this very reason. When they arrive in town, she is increasingly wretched with each passing day that he does not visit. Elinor, too, thinks of Willoughby at length because she is concerned about her sister's welfare. Even Colonel Brandon calls on Elinor in order to discuss Marianne's relationship with Willoughby and to inform Elinor that everyone in town is discussing their engagement. These frequent references to Willoughby heighten our anxiety concerning the true nature of his commitment to Marianne, and enable us as readers to experience some of Marianne's longing for that which is never present.
Though Willoughby does not appear, Marianne mistakes Colonel Brandon for him when the latter comes to visit the Dashwood sisters in London. This is one of many suggestions in the novel that people may be substituted for one another: Marianne had earlier mistaken Edward Ferrars on horseback for John Willoughby; Elinor mistakes Lucy's hair for her own in Edward's ring; and Elinor initially mistakes Robert for Edward as the object of Lucy's affections. These scenes in which some characters fail to recognize others provide subtext for a novel in which one young woman (Marianne) thinks she is in love with one man but ends up loving someone else, and another young woman (Lucy) becomes engaged to one brother but then decides to marry the other.

Chapters 28-32

Although Austen makes reference throughout the novel to letters sent from one character to another, Chapter 29 is exceptional because it includes the full text of four letters sent between Willoughby and Marianne. Chapter 29 perhaps most closely resembles Austen's original 1795 manuscript for the book, which was conceived as an epistolary novel entitled Elinor and Marianne. It wasn't until at least four years later that Austen rewrote these letters with narration.
Elinor feels that Willoughby's letter proclaims him to be "deep in hardened villainy." Indeed, Willoughby is only one in a long line of Austen's male villains, including George Wickham (of Pride and Prejudice ), Henry Crawford (of Mansfield Park , and Frank Churchill (of Emma ). All of Austen's villains are tricksters, who initially seem charming, attractive, and witty. Some, like Frank Churchill, turn out to be fibbers and play-actors while others, like George Wickham, are downright frauds. However, Willoughby is both: he is a glamorous seducer as well as a corrupt philanderer. He is not just impetuous but also callous; he is not just insensitive but also vicious. As a result, it is not difficult to see how he can capture Marianne's heart without ever fully winning Elinor's confidence.
The contrast between Elinor and Marianne is perhaps made most explicit in their reactions to their lovers' seemingly insensitive treatment. Whereas Elinor is relieved that she does not have to share Lucy's news about Edward with her mother and sister, Marianne insists through her grief that "I care not who knows that I am wretched." Her attempt to claim intimacy with Willoughby at the party dramatizes the dangers of showing one's feelings publicly and contrasts strikingly with Elinor's more cautious restraint.
Colonel Brandon's own personal story of his relationship with Eliza Williams and her daughter elaborately echoes Marianne's relationship with Willoughby. The details of Brandon's story parallel all of the plots of the novel, including that of the insensitive parent's commitment to primogeniture, of brothers who cannot see eye-to-eye, and of women whose hearts are broken by the men they love. However, Brandon's dramatic story also includes divorce, seduction, illegitimate birth, and even a duel, all of which are extreme consequences of the emotions and situations that Marianne Dashwood must confront. Though Brandon comments that he is a "very awkward narrator," his story-within-a-story actually sheds light on many of the most important themes of the novel.

Chapters 33-36

Austen's biting wit is quite evident here: as the omniscient narrator, she makes direct comments about her characters, and, within the story, she has some of her characters commment on other, less favorable figures. The first, more direct display of her wit is exemplified by her comments about the dinner party, hosted by Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood:

John Dashwood had not much to say for himself that was worth hearing, and his wife still less. But there was no peculiar disgrace in this, for it was very much the case with the chief of their visitors, who almost all laboured under one or other of these disqualifications for being agreeable: want of sense, either natural or improved; want of elegance, want of spirits, or want of temper.

She passes judgment on her characters by pretending to cast their most negative attributes in a positive light: John Dashwood has nothing to say for himself, but there is "no particular disgrace" in this because his company is just as insipid as he. Usually, these acerbic observations are presented through Elinor's eyes, but here Austen, at her cruelest, satirizes her characters directly.
The more indirect display of Austen's wit is exemplified by the personality and behavior of Mr. Palmer. Just after the lengthy and elaborate debate between doting mothers about the relative heights of their children, Austen informs her readers that Mr. Palmer, the father of a newborn son, did not find his child to be different from any other newborn infant, "nor could he [Mr. Palmer] even be brought to acknowledge the simple proposition of its being the finest child in the world." Rather than informing her readers directly that Fanny Dashwood and Lady Middleton are irrational in their motherly affections, she accomplishes this through the character of Mr. Palmer, whose objectivity and indifference enable her to indirectly mock the mothers' excessive sentimentality.
From Fanny's dinner party to Mrs. Dennison's musical party, these chapters underscore the extent to which a seemingly endless series of invitations governs the lives of the women in Austen's novel. The Dashwood women travel to Barton at the invitation of Sir John; Elinor and Marianne travel to London at the invitation of Mrs. Jennings; Marianne visits Willoughby's estate at Allenham at his invitation. Indeed, formal invitations to others' homes structure the social lives of all of Austen's heroines, and thus, although they travel frequently and widely, the wills of others circumscribe their mobility. In contrast, the men of the novel have agency in addition to mobility. They can come and go as they wish regardless of the invitations and expectations of others: Willoughby proclaims unexpectedly that he must go to Devonshire on business; Colonel Brandon suddenly interrupts the outing to Whitwell because he has urgent business in London; Edward comes and goes in no particular pattern. While the plot of the entire novel is structured around the physical movement of characters, only the male characters fully control their travels.

Chapters 37-41

When Miss Steele accidentally lets slip the secret of her sister's engagement to Edward Ferrars, their relationship becomes no longer an "attachment" but a "connection." An attachment is an emotional association between two people; to form an attachment is to fall in love. In contrast, a connection is the public bond involving a range of associations between individuals and their families. When Lucy and Edward were attached to one another, they were simply secretly in love with one another; once Miss Steele makes their engagement public, their families become heavily involved in an ever-widening circle of legal and economic implications. For example, Mrs. Ferrars announces that she will disinherit her son if he marries Lucy instead of the wealthy heiress Miss Morton, and Colonel Brandon offers Edward a living to support his wife. Thus, when the attachment becomes a connection, the number of individuals involved in the relationship increases considerably.
Connections link family members to one another in concern for their mutual welfare. These bonds are so strong that it is unusual to find people behaving warmly and generously toward those they are not related to. Thus, John Dashwood cannot understand why Colonel Brandon offers Edward a living ("Really!" he says upon hearing the news; "Well this is very astonishing!--no relationship--no connection between them!") Brandon, we know, is acting solely on the basis of voluntary fellow-feeling. He empathizes with Edward because he, too, has known the pain of love accompanied by tremendous emotional distress. Furthermore, he respects Edward because he knows that Edward has Elinor's admiration. Therefore, he offers Edward a means of supporting a wife in spite of his disinheritance. But for John Dashwood, only family ties could provide the grounds for such a kind and generous gesture.

Chapters 42-45

Marianne's illness is a product both of excessive romantic sensibility and of a sequence of physically plausible reactions. On the one hand, her illness begins as a "nervous illness" induced by Willoughby's rejection and her disappointed romantic hopes and dreams. On the other hand, she catches a cold after wandering about the wet grounds of Cleveland. Austen's detailed description of Marianne's physical deterioration prevents readers from dismissing her ailment as a mere case of Victorian female hysteria: she charts the course of Marianne's illness, from a day spent shivering by the fire, to a restless and feverish night, to her feeling that she is "materially better" about a week later. Then, a few hours afterward her fever returns, accompanied by delirium. Although the scene in which Marianne cries out for her mother seems Gothic in its melodrama, delirious outcries were a common symptom of fever in Austen's day according to the most commonly consulted medical handbooks. Thus, Marianne's illness is an affliction of both the soul and the physical body.
While Marianne lies sick in bed, Elinor must deal not only with her sister's illness but also with the individual who was in part responsible for her condition, John Willoughby. While they were in London, Elinor concluded that Willoughby was "deep in hardened villainy." However, in these chapters, she comes to pity and sympathize with him. Softened by his honesty and passion, Elinor comes to understand, along with the reader, what had seemed a purely cruel change of heart in London. Although Willoughby's behavior is still inexcusable, his confession at least supplies the motivation for his actions. Perhaps Elinor finds it easier to forgive him because she knows that ultimately he has suffered--and will continue to suffer--for his misconduct: he has entered into a loveless marriage with a woman who will never be able to make him happy. Elinor may also have an easier time forgiving Willoughby because she now knows that his love for Marianne was genuine, in spite of his inappropriate behavior. Thus, even the rational and restrained Elinor is moved to forgive Willoughby after hearing his passionate confession.
By reintroducing Willoughby at the end of her novel, Austen grants him more depth than an ordinary villain enjoys. Since he is able to speak for himself, Willoughby emerges as a more complicated and nuanced character than George Wickham, who simply carries off Lydia Bennett in Pride and Prejudice and never redeems himself again. Moreover, the reintroduction of Willoughby provides a long-awaited explanation of his mercurial behavior and a confirmation of Marianne's conviction that he loved her very much. Thus, Austen ties up her loose ends before entering her novel's finale.

Chapters 46-50

When the servant Thomas first announces the news of "Mr. Ferrars's" marriage to Lucy Steele, Marianne bursts out in hysterics while Elinor maintains her composure in spite of her deep disappointment. Their reactions are ironic on two levels. First, Elinor was the sister with a close attachment to Edward, and thus, she has far more cause to break down in tears. Second, not only do the sisters' reactions seem reversed from what they should be, but the reactions of the men under discussion are reversed as well (though we do not yet know it): it is actually Robert, not Edward, who is engaged to Lucy Steele.
Several critics have objected to the implausibility of the match between Marianne and Colonel Brandon. Brandon is characterized as a clear-headed, dependable, practical man--the total opposite of the romantic and impetuous Marianne. Thus, Marianne's final acceptance of him seems completely out of character, since the marriage requires her to abandon her romantic ideals entirely. Moreover, Marianne and Colonel Brandon barely interact in the novel, especially in the concluding chapters. Thus, it seems unlikely that Marianne would come to love Brandon as she had loved Willoughby; she hardly knows him. Nonetheless, by closing the novel with their marriage, Austen shows the extent of Marianne's transformation: she writes, "She was born to discover the falsehood of her own opinions, and to counteract by her conduct her most favourite maxims." If Marianne's ability to love Brandon is unconvincing, it is because of Austen's great faith in the ability of the individual to remake herself in light of shifting circumstances.
The novel closes with a reminder that the most important attachment in the novel is not that between any man and woman, but between the two sisters. The sisters decide to live side-by-side together with their husbands at Delaford, thereby affirming the mutual respect and affection, which has kept them close throughout the entire novel.
Ultimately, both sisters end up married to the novel's only second sons. Edward Ferrars, although strictly speaking the firstborn, is disinherited by his mother; as John Dashwood remarks, "Robert will now to all intents and purposes be considered as the eldest son." We know that Colonel Brandon is a second son because he has an older brother who married his old sweetheart, Eliza, many years before the novel's plot begins. Whereas these characters are the heroes of the novel, all the eldest sons, including John Dashwood, Robert Ferrars, and Colonel Brandon's older brother, are cast in a negative light. In Austen's day, the eldest sons were the ones who inherited all the family property according to the laws of male primogeniture. However, in spite of these inheritance laws, it is the second sons who ultimately find contentment in the novel; thus, they make happy lives for themselves despite societal and financial constraints.

adapted from Spark notes

Colonialism and Imperialism - A Passage to India

It's a useful comment, from Martin Green, that "One could read all the works of the Great Tradition, and never know that England had an empire" - the canonical English texts deal, he comments, with "women and marriage, personal relations, and alternatives to politics", but the financial source of the wealth which lubricates these personal and social relationships is left generally unspoken of. Forster's work faces that silence head on, raising issues of empire and race in ways which had not been attempted earlier. His principal, and contrasting antecedent as, of course, Kipling, and it is against Kipling's representation of the 'East' as a training ground for manliness, decency and character-building which Forster wishes to challenge. When the novel appeared, in 1924, many Anglo-Indians were outraged: the portrayal, Forster admitted, was exaggerated, but only slightly. Ronnie's views on his career are parallel to the sympathies of contemporary young Anglo-Indians for whom the 'East' was, in the words of Disraeli, "a career". India was also seen, from this Kiplingesque perspective, as a training ground, a frontier, a gymnasium within which qualities such as manliness and character were to be assessed. We find echoes of the influence of such views of India in George Orwell's portrayal of his experiences in the 'East', in Burmese Days or 'Shooting an Elephant'.
Forster clearly ironises such views of the India as Career, as gymnasium or testing ground, but it is the nature of the debunking which is important. Forster, in common with a number of upper middle class intellectuals (such as Virginia Woolf) was an anti-Imperialist, but his criticism of imperialism is liberal, as opposed to Socialist or Marxist. For Forster, with his liberal emphasis on education and individualist psychology, approaches the critique of Anglo-Indian imperialism in terms of the predominance amongst the upper middle classes of the "Public School Attitude": the priggishness, snobbery, complacency, censoriousness, the lack of imagination and subtlety, the philistinism and narrow-mindedness which the novel sees in the Anglo-Indians is, for Forster, testimony of something deficient within the English national character.
This emphasis on national psychology is a recurrent issue throughout Forster's work, coupled with his ironic, and often highly satirical, portraits of the English middle class culture from which he had emerged and, briefly, lived within. In a 1921 article, 'Notes on the English Character' Forster outlines his case more fully: "For it is not that that the Englishmen can't feel - it is that he is afraid to feel. He has been taught at his public school that feeling is bad form. He must not express great joy or sorrow, or even to open his mouth too wide when he talks - his pipe might fall out if he did. He must bottle up his emotions, or let them out only on a very special occasion."
Forster, as someone who partly admires the virility of this type of Englishman, remains ambivalent about the English Public School Character and the "undeveloped heart" of the typical Englishman. Nevertheless, in A Passage, his criticism of Anglo-Indian prejudice, snobbery and narrow-mindedness is remorseless.
Whilst Forster emphasises the personal experience of Imperialism two points should be noted: (i) he recognises that Imperialism in India is a system (political, economic and social) and that India is a colonial subject, and (ii) that Forster's account of India is culturally and historically specific. Although the novel was first conceived in 1912, it is set in an India shortly after the Amritsah Massacre, a notable and brutal episode in the history of English rule over India, when there were debates about how Anglo-Indian rule could be liberalised through new attitudes of courtesy and decency. Forster spent two years in India, in 1912 and again in 1921/2, and did so as a paid secretary at a Hindu court. He was closely involved in Indian affairs, supported the Ghandi Non-Co-operation movement of the early 1920s, and continued to remain interested in Indian affairs as a broadcaster and commentator in the inter-War period. For these reasons Forster's portrait of Anglo-Indian rule is a well-observed portrait, from the pen of someone who was thoroughly familiar with the realities of the Raj.