A CONTRAST OF CLASSICS: LEADING LADIES DEUX

Last time I left you with a bad taste in your mouth about Emma. I said that waiting for Emma to change is like eating your way through a bag of kitty litter in hopes of finding a toy at the bottom. She does change (eventually), but was it worth the agony leading up to it? My answer is…maybe. I do have a few lovely things to say about her today, and I include an awful confession as well.

I also flattered Elizabeth by likening her to a diamond formed amidst the coal mine of Longbourne. A little over the top, perhaps, but there it is. However, she doesn’t get off the hook of criticism just because she’s awesome. Today I’ll look at her biggest flaw and how it nearly ruins her family.

PRIDE AND WHAT NOW?

First, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. As the name of the book forewarns us, Elizabeth isn’t perfect. I think she does show some pride in her rejection of Mr. Collins’ proposal. It’s true that he’s ridiculous and she’s as mentally superior to him as to a donkey, but it’s in rather poor taste for her to realize it. However, pride isn’t Elizabeth’s primary foible. In naming the book, Jane Austen bypasses all of Elizabeth’s varied charms and instead brands her with the description of “prejudice.” 

She is prejudiced in favor of Mr. Wickham, although it’s her simple honesty that keeps her from suspecting his insincerity. (And sure, maybe his good looks and dashing uniform play a small part too.) And she’s prejudiced against poor, rich Mr. Darcy. She assumes she knows all about him nearly from the moment she sees him. She understands his motives, his past, and his character. The jury has spoken, and the verdict is in: Mr. Darcy is insufferable.

THE COST OF PREJUDICE

And her prejudice costs both her family and herself in the end. Had she been less guarded with the revelation of Wickham’s true character, maybe—just maybe—Lydia would have thought twice (or even once) before running off with the scamp. …Eh, probably not. Lydia is an idiot. But at least Elizabeth would have felt clear of blame. 

And had she been more guarded with her negative opinion of Mr. Darcy at the beginning, she could have avoided some awkward conversations with her family later on when she accepted his (second) proposal. Imagine, for example, her mortification at hearing her own dislike of Darcy echoed back from her father’s mouth. I’m thinking of Mr. Collins’ letter to Mr. Bennet regarding Elizabeth’s engagement. Mr. Bennet thought his daughter would find the letter amusing, but she was mortified. That’s what happens when you’re forthcoming with your prejudices before you know the whole story. Prejudice causes pain in the end.

MY CONFESSION

Prejudice is ugly indeed. While I’d love to mirror many of Elizabeth’s finer qualities, I’d certainly pass on that one. But as much as I’d like to be Elizabeth, I know the truth.

I’m Emma.

As proof, I once ordered a very good friend to spit out her gum and eat an almond. As an adult. And she did it. Ok, but in my defense, the almond she was turning down was covered in cocoa. It was delicious. I knew she’d regret it if she refused. In a case with such high stakes, gum should be no impediment to enjoyment. I would ensure that she made the right choice. And yes, this is exactly what Emma would do to poor Harriot. So, um, sorry about the almond, Tori.

Fans of Emma, keep this confession in mind as you read my description of your girl. Yes, I censure her harshly, but only because I see hope. I have to see hope for my own sake. And I do say some very nice things as well. So off we go.

SOME (TEMPERED) PRAISE OF EMMA

In pondering what makes Emma an enduring classic despite its title character, it led me to wonder what Mr. Knightley sees in Emma. The guy’s no fool; there must be something likable about her. So in pondering Emma’s positive traits, I assembled this list of commendations:

• Emma is attractive but (purportedly) not vain. (Except when she fixates on what a beautiful spectacle she will be when she dances with Frank Churchill. That’s pretty vain.)
• She has natural talent in art, music, and intelligence. (Although her lack of diligence and motivation keeps her mediocre.)
• She is decisive. (Although she’s often decisively wrong, as with her views on Harriet’s pedigree, Jane Fairfax’s personality, Mr. Elton’s love interest, Frank Churchill’s intentions, Harriet’s second crush, and Mr. Knightley’s reciprocation of affection. Basically everything in the book.)
• She’s smart enough to make a good conversation partner. (But her misconceptions and meddling must make most of her topics unenjoyable for Mr. Knightley.) 

Well, given the facts, there’s only one reasonable conclusion: Highbury has so few eligible ladies that Emma’s redeeming qualities seem—well, redeeming. Otherwise a sensible man like Mr. Knightley would never fall in love with her. 

(If you protest that, in real life, a great many men do marry insipid or even horrid women just because they’re pretty, I can’t disagree. But this is fiction. It was preventable.)

EMMA’S TRULY REDEEMING QUALITY

So after that short list of qualified compliments, I do have one final commendation to give: Emma changes. She may be frivolous, self-focused, and obtuse for most of the book, but her eventual humbling is genuine. 

I also have to admit that she takes more chastisement from Mr. Knightley than I ever would. Sure, most of it goes in one ear and out the other, but she doesn’t get offended or worked up about it. And when she disappoints him on Box Hill, she takes his rebuke to heart. She is a different creature even before Mr. Knightley is out of view. She changes for the better—of herself and the book.

WHY WE LIKE EMMA ANYWAY

So despite her flaws, people still like Emma. Why? In short, because she’s realistic and relatable. She’s a heroine for a fallen generation—she’s bossy, mistaken, and judgy. She’s definitely me, and I suspect that she’s most of us, too.

Besides, Emma’s ridiculous self-confidence is shown in a humorous light most of the time. Lest we forget, Emma is a comedy. True, I was too annoyed to laugh very often, but Austen did intend her readers to find humor in Emma’s aggravating tendencies and to celebrate her (eventual) repentance. And that repentance is what sets this book apart from similar modern stories. Modern heroes often fail to change, but Emma accepts the challenge. Thank the Lord for the toy at the bottom of the kitty litter bag. 

THE BIG QUESTION

The question can’t be “Is Elizabeth less flawed than Emma?” Of course she is. Emma is flawed by design. I guess it boils down to this question: do you want a protagonist who’s relatable or one who’s admirable? Modern entertainment often focuses on the former over the latter. That’s why Iron Man is more popular than Captain America; he’s a jerk, and Cap is a saint. We feel guilty when we watch Steve Rogers jump on a grenade, but we feel better about our own faults when we see Tony Stark bask in his pride at the Jericho missile demo. Selfishness loves company.

But in the early days of literature, the purpose of reading fiction was to encounter positive examples beyond one’s own scope and tendency. The same can be true today—reading about characters who set a high bar should inspire us to strive harder and be better. Can we also learn by seeing foolishness, punishment, and repentance? Absolutely! But in the case of Emma, the punishment and repentance took so long that I’d almost despaired of life by the time they happened. 

MY CHOICE

In the end, I suppose it’s up to the reader’s preferences. Do you prefer a protagonist who sets a high standard of virtue, wit, and growth? Or do you like one whose glaring faults are meant to accentuate her redemption? Honestly, there’s much to be said for both.

But as for me and my house, we prefer Elizabeth.