Abstract
Austen seeks to portray the disintegration of Emma Woodhouse’s control over her life. Though modern readers often find solace in the seemingly independent life of Emma, her progression throughout the novel reveals her independence as a delusion. Absent of a mother and left with a near-hypochondriac father, as well as an errant governess, the Woodhouse estate is left to Emma to run as she pleases, giving her a false sense of independence and control. A longstanding friendship between the Woodhouse family and Mr. Knightley lead Emma to hold a special relationship with him, which eventually ends in marriage, despite Emma’s explicit disregard for it. As Knightley and Emma’s conversations progress throughout the novel, so does his manipulation and control over her thoughts and actions. Readers watch as a strong, independent, and self-assured character is quickly and subtly undermined and devoid of the self-assurance.
Language Control: How Knightley’s Subtle Control Tactics Turns Mentorship into Marriage in Jane Austen’s Emma
Emma Woodhouse’s appearance of strength and dignity call to readers as a beacon among other Austen women. Written in 1815, the novel came at a critical point in Britain began to advance in thoughts about the relationship between the mind and body. They attempted to answer the question: “is the human individual a product of social conditioning or biological makeup?” Austen seems to work under the assumption that the human experience is a product of the interrelationship between the body and the mind. Antonina Harbus writes, “The language of this novel reflects contemporary ambivalence about whether the quality of the individual mind is either the result of education and social experience or alternatively arises from biological, innate factors” (765). Emma’s example suggests that the quality is a result of social experience and repression and that biological nature has less of a hold on the individual. Austen exposes many of the presuppositions society had for marriage in the nineteenth century such as social standing compatibility, shared talents, matching virtues, equal demeanors, monetary fulfillments, and overall social acceptance. Emma highlights Austen’s focus on social dramas and the psychology of them via the idea of an embodied mind. This embodied mind assesses figurative expression and language choice when characters discuss complex ideas such as emotion and marriage. The book centers around couples whose marriages have either just begun or are being anticipated, and even though there are also such themes as independence and growth, the novel largely boils down to the question of a woman’s place in society. Emma’s independence and social nonconformity makes her a target for Mr. Knightley’s adoration, desires, and eventually, control; he subtly begins to undermine her thoughts and therefore self-image in order to gain control over her actions, resulting in her conversion to marriage.
In her article, Wendy Moffat pinpoints some possible reasons behind Emma’s approachability: “Emma’s independence, her self-absorption, and her romantic sensibilities make her especially approachable to modern readers who feel they make autonomous personal choices, independent of cultural patterns” (46). Emma undertakes a challenge by simply being different in character structure from other Austen females. Mary Poovey describes the modern reader’s dilemma in reading the novel as a “fantasy of autonomy” (48). On the other hand, John Halperin notes in his biography of Jane Austen that she undertook the challenge of a conscious rethinking of the uses of marriage in her own life, and perhaps fell prey to the same dilemma. Modern, feminist readers see the tension in Emma coming from the juxtaposition of self-awareness and complex identification in Emma herself, coupled with twenty-first century assumptions about female freedom. Emma looks a lot like the women of today: she is often obnoxious, feeling superior, but deservingly so. Scholars agree that she is intelligent, knows how to manipulate those around her, and is powerful because of it; she is proud, but exhibits development throughout the novel. Speculations are confirmed when Emma says to Knightley:
“we always say what we like to one another,” signifying that she is self-aware and see herself as his equal (7).
Emma’s independence can be seen as directly correlating to her social standing. Being in the same social class as Mr. Knightley, she is able to feely speak her mind, ignoring typical gender conventions. She often stands up for herself and her place in the world—speaking about the independent life she will lead. However, it is possible that these assertions cause Emma to delude herself into thinking that she has some sort of control. These assertions can in turn blind her to the fact that Mr. Knightley’s engaging conversation turns into manipulation. Admiring Emma for her self-awareness causes issues to arise when readers see that her self-awareness is undermined and perhaps only an illusion of independence, rather than a signifier. Moffat assess:
[…] beauty, wealth, and social class, we [readers] are forced into a galling complicity with patriarchal values. By rights Jane Fairfax is the closest heroine of Emma: handsome and clever, but poor, she proves the limits of female power far more effectively than Emma herself. But Jane’s poverty limits her aspirations and hence our interest. (46)
Emma’s indulgent father and subsequent wealth allow her a rare independence, causing readers confusion in whether or not she has legitimate control over her life and action as she manages her home and private life.
In addition to the confusion on legitimate/illegitimate control, the novel is also largely concerned with social roles and their implications on marriage. The intense focus on marriage in nineteenth-century fiction draws on the time period. Each couple in the novel match socially. Though much emphasis is placed on marriage as a way to raise one’s social status, the importance of not overstepping one’s social potential is also prominent throughout the novel. For instance, Mr. Weston and Miss Churchill’s marriage carried hardship for both parities; but, Mrs. Weston is a former governess and therefore she and Mr. Weston’s social standings are more equal and provide a happier marriage than his first. Just as Emma’s setting shows that class differences are perceived to be unhelpful for a marriage, adherence to societal norms are equally as important to those in the Highbury society. Emma shows the ramifications of the social pressure to fine romantic love and marry. “Women who unable to produce healthy live children were considered disappointments to their families” (Steinbach 81). Even women who came from less wealthy families felt the pressure to marry in order to fulfill roles as wives and mothers. Yalom recounts the gradual shift in the mid nineteenth-century to marriage for love (176-188). While similar social and religious backgrounds, shared values, and financial security were still important factors in a marriage, love also began to factor into the decision. The story of Emma shows the gradual shift, standing out from other novels of the period in that its actual marriage plot does not begin until chapter 11.
Emma’s scholars differ in opinion of Mr. Knightley. Moffat interprets his conversation tactics with Emma to be stifling, negative influences on Emma’s character. She writes, “One does not have to be a feminist in order to resent Emma’s ending; Knightley’s suitability as a lover is an open question throughout Emma, and his sudden shift from mentor to lover is itself a comic turn” (Moffat 53). However, other scholars view Mr. Knightley as a more positive influence on Emma’s character. Theresea Kenney argues that Knightley’s attempt to gain control over Emma’s development forces himself to develop and mature as well. In turn, the mutual development makes him into just as suitable a mate as it makes her. Unfortunately, these theories ignore the irrelevance of Emma’s need for personal growth and development. Mr. Knightley instead makes it his prerogative to develop her personally, taking advantage of their longstanding relationship.
In the beginning of the novel, Emma leaves no room for question of her thoughts on marriage. When speaking to Harriet, Emma says:
I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry […] Fortune I do not want; employment I do not want; consequence I do not want: I believe few married women are half as much mistress of their husband’s house as I am of Hartfield […]. (84)
Her repetitious “I do not want” suggests that Emma feels that she is lacking nothing in her current state. Emma’s fortune is enough to keep her settled for the rest of her life; again, her socioeconomic status annuls the need for fiscal advantage or security from a marriage. Additionally, her familial status is unique in that because she does not have a living mother, her relationship with her father yields her more independence. Emma firmly believes that marriage would be of no use to her. However, throughout the novel it becomes clear that Emma’s foundation is not as firm as she thinks. Early in the novel, Knightley uses language to control Emma’s thoughts. He realizes that she is feeling sadness over her governess’s marriage but rather than allowing her to express her own feelings, he says of her: “she knows how very acceptable it must be at Miss Taylor’s time of life to be settled into a house of her own” (7). Knightley cleverly inserts his opinion, and by using the word “she,” presents it as Emma’s opinion—and an opinion without room for wavering at that. Furthermore, he trivializes her very presence—she is in the room when he states “her” opinion, yet he uses third person when talking about her. He shows his confidence that he knows what is in Emma’s best interest and begins his quest to control her via language.
With each bantering conversation, Emma becomes more and more wary of her own opinions. Mr. Knightley progressively uses their conversations as a means of monitoring Emma’s speech and behavior so that she can be a suitable wife. He begins an attempt to control Emma’s speech through disregarding her ideas as flippant. Emma’s personality leads her to break societal standards of a lady’s behavior—she speaks her mind often and thus denies the socially acceptable way of letting men guide the conversation. Thus, since Mr. Knightley cannot keep her silent, he controls her language via diminishing the importance of what she says. When Emma and Mr. Knightley argue over Harriet dismissing Robert Martin, he exclaims, “Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!” (63). By labeling her argument as nonsense, Knightley ignores its worth and signals to Emma her conversation value. Given his longstanding relationships with the Woodhouse family, he abuses his role as a guiding figure for Emma and sets up a pattern of persuasion via manipulation that eventually ends in marriage.
The repeating arguments between the two reach a pinnacle when Knightley scolds Emma after going to Box Hill, where she insults Miss Bates while playing a word game. Frank easily encourages Emma, who is bored of the company, because of her lack of stimulating wit. Once Mr. Knightley observes Emma’s behavior, he scolds:
Emma, I must once more speak to you as I have been used to do: a privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still use it. I cannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance. How could you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your wit to a woman of her character […] Emma, I had not thought it possible. (383)
Knightley, acting as father figure, acknowledges that he has not real control over Emma, yet asserts his society-given authority to scold her anyway. By repeating the phrase, “How could you,” he reveals his disbelief—either real or feigned—and uses it as leverage in attempt to illicit guilt on Emma’s part. This encounter, though instigated by Emma insulting Miss Bates, reveals Knightley’s dissatisfaction with Emma’s behavior on a long-term scale. Emma had spent the day engaged in witty banter with Frank, and though readers see that Emma does not truly love Frank, they can speculate that she continues to flirt in order to gain attention from the Highbury society. As Emma becomes the center of the bantering group at Box Hill, readers see Mr. Knightley becoming more uncomfortable. Up to this point, Knightley has been unable to confront Emma directly; despite his uneasiness and his ability to see when Emma is at fault, his previous interactions indicate that he loves Emma’s witty banter and verbal debates. However, when he is forced to be the onlooker without control, she becomes tainted in his eyes. Thus, he attempts to regulate Emma’s behavior and responds as a parental figure rather than an admirer. This shift in relationship from admirer to mentor causes Emma to pause and reflect on her ability to maintain control of her actions.
Emma’s upbringing and status suggests that she was fully aware of the gravity her comment towards Miss Bates held—it was out of character and cruel. However, the others around seemed to move past the remark quickly and readers get no indication of Emma’s regret until after Knightley asserts himself and scolds her. Austen recounts the party for several more pages and readers see a moment in which Emma and Frank joke together about his finding a wife. Emma is her natural self until Knightley takes her aside—his lecture on her behavior causes her to become ill physically: “She had not been able to speak; and, on entering the carriage, sunk back for a moment overcome […]” (385). It is almost as though her realization that she disappointed Knightley weighed more heavily on her than her behavior, for, “never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life” (385). Thus, Knightley utilizes his language to control her even when he is not physically present.
This moment marks an integral shift in Emma’s character. Upon arriving home, she plays “a whole evening of backgammon with her father,” where Austen describes a shift in Emma’s perspective: “There, indeed, lay real pleasure, for there she was giving up the sweetest hours of the twenty-four to his comfort” (386). It appears that Emma takes on a more traditional woman’s role, sacrificing for the comfort and happiness for the father, and continues her newly reformed ways when visiting the Bates family and vowing to have “a regular, equal, kindly intercourse” and thus, becoming a woman that Mr. Knightley would want (386). It is clear that Mr. Knightley used his lecture to control her actions by attacking her own language and bridling it with his expectations.
Her changing behavior indicates the rule Knightley has over her. When conversing about Harriet’s pending engagement to Robert, he notes that Emma’s attitude toward the situation has shifted. She casually dismisses her previously steadfast notions by saying, “[…] for at that time I was a fool” (485). It appears that Emma has bought into Knightley’s idea that her opinions are flippant; by calling herself foolish, readers gain insight into her mind and realize that she sees her previous self as frivolous and lacking judgment. Knightley’s use of manipulative language has overcome. By manipulating her thoughts he has slyly uprooted her foundations and moved them to his way of thinking. Though he never attempts to physically control during their banters, he uses his language to appear as the rational one and Emma leaves the conversations doubting herself and eventually, falsely awakening to his way of thinking.
Emma’s false awakening causes her to believe in her love for Mr. Knightley. She admits that she has acted foolishly by encouraging Harriet to reject Robert’s proposal and goes so far as to express appreciation that Mr. Knightley has “watched over her from a girl, with an endeavor to improve her, and an anxiety for her doing right” (425). Once again, her statement establishes her and Knightley’s relationship as more of a mentorship than a romantic one. Her use of the word “improve” indicates his attitude toward her in their arguments. Improving suggests controlling, and as Mr. Knightley grew more frustrated with the inability to change Emma, his actions became more authoritarian and manipulative. Having freely admitted to loving Emma since she was 13, readers see that Mr. Knightley abuses his role as mentor and uses it to mold her into his version of a desirable wife.
Emma, though unlike a stereotypical woman of the nineteenth century, eventually succumbs to Knightley’s control and falls prey to the typical social conventions of marriage. Knightley’s gradual control of Emma’s speech and thoughts points to the consciousness of terminology about mind and body. Emma’s recognition of her love for Knightley is expressed metaphorically: “It darted through her, with the speed of an arrow, that Mr. Knightley must marry no one but herself” (418). By using a body metaphor for a mental process, Austen reveals her interest in the embodied mine and points toward her understanding of the conceptual and material. June Sturrock writes about Emma’s significance of speech: “Emma, more than any other of Austen’s novels emphasizes the significance of speech, not only through its brilliant dialog, but also through an intense consciousness of speech habits and their implications” (n.p.). By considering scholarly implication and tracing the threads between Knightley and Emma’s conversations, readers can see his agenda. The cognizance of Mr. Knightley’s language control over Emma frames the novel’s ending and shatters the romanticized view of their marriage and Emms’s initial delusions of independence, allowing readers a fuller view of the psychological struggle between mind and body.