July marks the 196th anniversary of Jane Austen's death. Brit Schulte examines the “silent” slavery and imperialism in one of the author's most notable works: Mansfield Park.
I play this game sometimes, called “complete the quote.” I think most underemployed art school graduates with literature degrees are all fond of it to pass the time. One of my favorite sources of material, because there is aplenty -- is Jane Austen. It also happens to be nearly 200 years since her death, this only adds a bonus round of enjoyment to the game. Here are some themed “complete the quotes:”
“There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.” Because I have servants.
“There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.” Especially when dealing with my servants.
“Selfishness must always be forgiven you know, because there is no hope of a cure.” My servants know that.
“A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of.” Because you can buy more servants.
“There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.” Because I have servants.
“There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.” Especially when dealing with my servants.
“Selfishness must always be forgiven you know, because there is no hope of a cure.” My servants know that.
“A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of.” Because you can buy more servants.
The depressing -- and really unsurprising -- thing is I can keep ‘em coming. If you’ve read Austen’s book Mansfield Park and have even a slight understanding of its historical situation and context you know what I mean. If not -- let’s catch you up. We’re dealing, essentially, with a Cinderella complex. Our protagonist, poor young Fanny, is relocated from a modest-means family to a wealthier estate headed by a rich aunt and uncle (Lady Bertram & Sir Thomas Bertram) because it’s hard for her mother and naval scripted father to fill all the mouths counting on them. The new bunk-mates prove to all be quite horrible to her save for one of the sons, Edmund, who has aspirations of the Cloth. Family dealings in estates in Antigua draw characters in and out of the main story, foregrounding the petty concerns of the landed-class, women are divorced and then ostracized, men recover from illness, and surprise surprise Fanny gets to marry in the end and becomes the moral compass of Mansfield Park. I’d apologize for the spoilers, but you did have 196 years to get to this stuff...
Throughout the entirety of the novel the issues surrounding slavery, and imperialism are consistently negotiated silently. Remember: Antigua. British colonization, as well as empire expanding tactics for trade and profits made the lifestyles of the featured characters of the novel a historical reality; yet actual accounts of the slave trade, as well as political conditions are amiss within this novel’s pages. Using a class analysis methodology, textually based evidence becomes undeniably apparent of the exploitative use of slave labor via imperialist policy to create the world that Jane Austen fictionalizes.
There are two specific frameworks the text can be filtered through (ready for the academic jargon?), there’s an examination of the social conditioning which makes slavery an acceptable means of profit, as well as the interpretation of the ambiguous language utilized to formulate the atmosphere surrounding the imperialist, slaveholding characters and their subsequent interactions with their environment and others. As the theorist Ian Watt reminds the reader, in his work, Realism and the Novel Form, “…the novel is not life but an artistic imitation of life; secondly, that the novel form is a culturally and historically specific literary convention…”, however when certain historical and cultural elements are struck from the novel’s pages, questions arise as to intent and influence. This is due part and parcel to Jane Austen’s social criticisms not extending beyond the class from which she heralds.
In spite of herself, Jane Austen creates a justification, a moral space, for the emergent bourgeoisie because she fails to extend her arguments of equality beyond the realm of the middle class. Her moral obligatory arguments for the advancement of women become stagnant, as they choose to limit their scope to a class of women who benefit from the exploitation of workers and slaves. To further this stagnation, the lecturer Mary Evans states in her literary criticism Jane Austen & the State, “But against what may appear as harsh and unbending judgments we have to allow that Jane Austen’s ideal world is one in which individuals would be assured of the mutual fulfillment of obligations and responsibilities, a world in which poverty would be recognized and alleviated, and injustice righted.” This is an absolutely ridiculous assertion when considering the social conditioning, which is a direct causation to Austen neglecting the struggle of the low working classes, and the slaves that were brutalized and exploited.
The world in which Austen was writing was a tumultuously changing one. Just a handful of years before Austen put pen to paper on Mansfield Park (written around the years 1812-1814, the height of the Napoleonic War!), the Abolitionist movement in Great Britain proper had succeeded in pushing the British Parliament to enact the Slave Trade Act of 1807, henceforth abolishing the practice of slave trade. However, numerous British landed gentry still made their fortunes on the backs of exploited Black labor in the colonies; and it was in this contradictory world that Jane Austen was grappling with morality, to an extent. Since Great Britain’s involvement in the Atlantic slave trade in the 17th century, abolitionist sentiments had been stirring. It was not until the mid to late 1700s however, that abolitionist sentiments and out-right organizing had become the burgeoning movement that it was.
Though the outspoken activists of abolition saw a victory in the new reform of 1807, it was an incomplete one. One must consider the profitability, always, in political measures such as these; the British Empire would not have economically wounded itself so willingly if it believed profitability was at risk. The cause then, for this allowance in legislation, apart from the incredible pressure from the abolitionist movement, was the acknowledgement that “at home” slavery and the trade of black persons was not the most effective means of exploitation for the Empire.
The British Navy eradicated the trading of slaves, via a military force, because chattel slavery had begun to compete with the British free-labor economy. There’s no moral code needed here to observe the profit margins for those still depending on the exploitation of slaves, they could still get the remaining years of work from them now, without threatening those who were using the newly emergent and more efficiently exploited low-wage workers back at home. Some years after Austen wrote her novel, in 1833, the full stop was put on slavery in the colonies. The passage of the Slavery Abolition Act saw the “end” of all uses of slave labor throughout the colonies, although maintenance of this act as well as monitoring were notoriously difficult. Again a shift toward a heavy reliance on low-wage workers on the mainland brought this act’s passage into being, and with a newly forming economic policy, the class dynamic in early 19th century Great Britain developed.
Throughout the entirety of the novel the issues surrounding slavery, and imperialism are consistently negotiated silently. Remember: Antigua. British colonization, as well as empire expanding tactics for trade and profits made the lifestyles of the featured characters of the novel a historical reality; yet actual accounts of the slave trade, as well as political conditions are amiss within this novel’s pages. Using a class analysis methodology, textually based evidence becomes undeniably apparent of the exploitative use of slave labor via imperialist policy to create the world that Jane Austen fictionalizes.
There are two specific frameworks the text can be filtered through (ready for the academic jargon?), there’s an examination of the social conditioning which makes slavery an acceptable means of profit, as well as the interpretation of the ambiguous language utilized to formulate the atmosphere surrounding the imperialist, slaveholding characters and their subsequent interactions with their environment and others. As the theorist Ian Watt reminds the reader, in his work, Realism and the Novel Form, “…the novel is not life but an artistic imitation of life; secondly, that the novel form is a culturally and historically specific literary convention…”, however when certain historical and cultural elements are struck from the novel’s pages, questions arise as to intent and influence. This is due part and parcel to Jane Austen’s social criticisms not extending beyond the class from which she heralds.
In spite of herself, Jane Austen creates a justification, a moral space, for the emergent bourgeoisie because she fails to extend her arguments of equality beyond the realm of the middle class. Her moral obligatory arguments for the advancement of women become stagnant, as they choose to limit their scope to a class of women who benefit from the exploitation of workers and slaves. To further this stagnation, the lecturer Mary Evans states in her literary criticism Jane Austen & the State, “But against what may appear as harsh and unbending judgments we have to allow that Jane Austen’s ideal world is one in which individuals would be assured of the mutual fulfillment of obligations and responsibilities, a world in which poverty would be recognized and alleviated, and injustice righted.” This is an absolutely ridiculous assertion when considering the social conditioning, which is a direct causation to Austen neglecting the struggle of the low working classes, and the slaves that were brutalized and exploited.
The world in which Austen was writing was a tumultuously changing one. Just a handful of years before Austen put pen to paper on Mansfield Park (written around the years 1812-1814, the height of the Napoleonic War!), the Abolitionist movement in Great Britain proper had succeeded in pushing the British Parliament to enact the Slave Trade Act of 1807, henceforth abolishing the practice of slave trade. However, numerous British landed gentry still made their fortunes on the backs of exploited Black labor in the colonies; and it was in this contradictory world that Jane Austen was grappling with morality, to an extent. Since Great Britain’s involvement in the Atlantic slave trade in the 17th century, abolitionist sentiments had been stirring. It was not until the mid to late 1700s however, that abolitionist sentiments and out-right organizing had become the burgeoning movement that it was.
Though the outspoken activists of abolition saw a victory in the new reform of 1807, it was an incomplete one. One must consider the profitability, always, in political measures such as these; the British Empire would not have economically wounded itself so willingly if it believed profitability was at risk. The cause then, for this allowance in legislation, apart from the incredible pressure from the abolitionist movement, was the acknowledgement that “at home” slavery and the trade of black persons was not the most effective means of exploitation for the Empire.
The British Navy eradicated the trading of slaves, via a military force, because chattel slavery had begun to compete with the British free-labor economy. There’s no moral code needed here to observe the profit margins for those still depending on the exploitation of slaves, they could still get the remaining years of work from them now, without threatening those who were using the newly emergent and more efficiently exploited low-wage workers back at home. Some years after Austen wrote her novel, in 1833, the full stop was put on slavery in the colonies. The passage of the Slavery Abolition Act saw the “end” of all uses of slave labor throughout the colonies, although maintenance of this act as well as monitoring were notoriously difficult. Again a shift toward a heavy reliance on low-wage workers on the mainland brought this act’s passage into being, and with a newly forming economic policy, the class dynamic in early 19th century Great Britain developed.
Left: Jane Austen. Right: British slave ship, circa early 1800's.
This new class dynamic developed through the established forms of class; the inherited aristocracy, supported by a newer peerage that now owned their means to commerce, soon gave way to it as a major class contender. The newly emergent bourgeois then began to fully form through heightened involvement in civic life i.e. public schools and universities. It saw the lofty aristocracy move higher into profession and industry. In turn the new expanding, successful middle class then pushed the lower working classes further down the rungs of a newly created class ladder. This period saw the advancement of a more progressive world, an end to chattel slavery and a growth in modern technology, however a modern exploitation and an individualistic moral code accompanied it.
First and foremost, the social conditioning of the spawn of the semi-feudal emerging bourgeoisie, by the established older rungs of this elite landed gentry class, sets the stage for a literary revisionist stance towards colonization; when Lady Bertram early on addresses her children stating, “There is a vast deal of difference in memories, as well as in everything else, and therefore you must make allowance for your cousin, and pity her deficiency.” This speaks to the colonial mindset, identifying distinct differences between the normalized (in this case, upper class) group and the “Other.” These sentiments would be easily translatable to the “inherent” deficiencies of those who were colonized, and the belief that they are either not deserving of better treatment or that colonization is for their betterment. Since this is a character statement, it could be argued that the character is not speaking for the author, but reflects the “universal” sentiments of this time in imperialist England.
Now that the landed aristocracy and emerging bourgeoisie have been characteristically equipped with the social conditioning necessary to implement those sorts of ideas, the gravity of what that means to colonized lands, and peoples becomes the central issue, which awkwardly remains unmentionable throughout the text. Arguably, Sir Thomas’ plantation in Antigua acts as his “colonial garden,” a landscape he improves upon through colonization. This could be supported at several points, and further reflected in the “modernization” of Mansfield. This conjecture is corroborated by the narrating accounts: “…and as his own circumstances were rendered less fair than heretofore, by some recent losses on his own West India estate, in addition to his eldest son’s extravagance, it became not undesirable to him to be relieved from the expense of her support and the obligation of her future provision.” In this excerpt, the “estate” is a plantation. The wording is far less suggestive of any sort of impropriety by referring to it as some ambiguous property Sir Thomas possesses. Other characters also take up this notion of shaping and manipulating the landscape around them, for instance Mrs. Norris comments, “If I had more room, I should take a prodigious delight in improving and planting.” This harkens to the attitude of taking “primitive” surroundings and “improving” upon them.
Also the allusion to the necessity of more space, i.e. more property to control, is inherently a bourgeois tendency. This ideology coincides with that of Imperialism, and becomes all the more obvious in its echoes of décor, cultivation of gardens, creation of pathways where there was once flora and fauna, etc. Fanny, arguably (and problematically) the most moral character, echoes these sentiments later in the chapter by saying, “It would be delightful to me to see the progress of it all.” Her use of “progress” as a description for the “modernization” of Mansfield is telling. Mrs. Crawford also falls victim to the morals and expectations of the time. Whilst commenting on Edmund’s father’s return being “interesting”, her language takes on an incredibly revealing tone.
Edmund responds to her supposition by stating, “It will, indeed, after such an absence; an absence not only long, but including many dangers.” The “dangers” are danced around like an intricate ballet of elephants, and no one makes further mention of his activities, except for a seemingly non sequitur by Miss Crawford, one page later, “It does put me in the mind of some of the old heathen heroes, who are performing great exploits in a foreign land…” The word “exploit”, though common in the vernacular of the time for the description of all manner of activities abroad, is particularly biting in this context. The glorification of foreigner adventures and safaris, as they would have been put, is an absolute attribution to this class of wealthy white landowners. This was expected behavior, and though this particular absence involves unspoken “dangers”, that adds to its celebrity all the more.
Moving from the literal and symbolic physical manipulation of the land to the textual language surrounding the slave trade, a more ambiguous atmosphere develops. The reader first encounters vague references of property and profession early on, however these encounters are cloaked in an ambiguity, which with even further investigation leads to the censorship of the slave trade. While postulating on a desire to return to his home in England, Sir Thomas is commented on by the narrator; that “Unfavorable circumstances had suddenly arisen at a moment when he was beginning to turn all his thoughts towards England, and the very rest uncertainty in which everything was then involved determined him on sending home his son and waiting the final arrangement by himself.”
Here, Sir Thomas is hoping to return from Antigua. The “unpleasant circumstances” are not expounded upon, and this elicits speculation as to whether this could be nodding at the recent legislation to outlaw slave trade or slavery that was being debated in England at this time for its implementation in the colonies. Slavery, however, is not directly mentioned in this stated section, or chapter. If Watt’s statement is true and tested: “The novel’s “solidity of setting” and vividness of detail functioned to put ‘man wholly into his physical setting’”, then the reader finds Austen neglecting an essential aspect of the novel. Austen consistently details income and lineage without discussing at length its origins, therefore not creating a vivid depiction of the setting.
Delving further into the text, whole chapters (specifically chapter twelve) are begun with these allusions to foreign activities, however no clear depiction of what is actually happening “over there” comes to fruition. For example, the opening paragraph of chapter twelve again discusses the return of the eldest son from Antigua, but makes no mention at all of any of his dealings there beyond the reference of parties, races, and well-to-do friends. Upon Sir Thomas’s return from Antigua, this is said about his time there, “His business in Antigua had latterly been prosperously rapid…” Ergo, Sir Thomas has just returned from Antigua upon his “ventures” becoming prosperous. He is able to quit his work and return to his life of leisure on the backs of the slave labor from his sugar plantation, which has heretofore still not been mentioned.
Even in this newly industrialized age, where mechanized cheap urban labor is really beginning to be utilized, (and eventually obscenely exploited) and the abolition of slavery has taken root in England, the colonies and those subjects living in them are still just as oppressed as ever, and Austen remains perpetually silent on her actual stance. Even the lecturer Mary Evans, who would have readers believe that Austen was a crusading anti-capitalist, has to concede this point: “Austen remains aloof from attempts to cull from her pages specific facts about social life and existent or emergent ideologies.” Thus, the most logical assertion is that these aforementioned examples involving the ambiguous language use, actually serve to indifferently acquiesce to the use of slave labor as a means of sustaining an extravagant lifestyle.
Since the majority of the novel employs the use of ambiguous and vague language surrounding the apparently contentious issue of the time, the mention of it by name is a particularly glaring moment in the course of the plot-line. This occurrence is the only time the phrase “slave-trade” is employed within this novel, just shy of its halfway point. The use of this phrase takes place in an exchange between Edmund and Fanny, “Did you not hear me ask him about the slave-trade last night?” “I did -- and I was in hopes the question would be followed up by others. It would have pleased your uncle to be enquired of father.” “And I longed to do it -- but there was such a dead silence!” During this dialogue, Fanny admits an attempt to engage her uncle in a discussion of the slave trade, but is then met with a disappointing “dead silence.” This seems to echo Austen’s own silence on the matter within the manuscript. Fanny does not show any remorse about the slave trade, but rather expresses her “curiosity and pleasure in his information.” Returning to the social conditioning aspect mentioned earlier, this kind of alienated reaction is fueled and foraged by a dominating class culture whose morals are skewed by the drive for profit motives and the sustainability of their leisure lifestyles (the use of sustainability is meant ironically).
After juxtaposing both the historical and material conditions of the time with the textual evidence found the question can still be begged, why was a harder lined stance not addressed by Austen in this rogue work? Near the close of the novel the statement is made, “To be a friend to the poor and oppressed! Nothing could be more grateful to her…” This statement demonstrates that Austen should have all the sentiments that could be represented as proponents of abolition both for the slave trade and slavery, especially since both practices were deemed felonies during the time the her text would have been in circulation, providing ample political ground for abolitionist stances.
Austen, in maintaining her stance on individual responsibility and autonomy, fails to accurately represent what Mary Evans claims her position within her writings to be: “a radical morality, and that far from endorsing the given, and emergent, values of the late 18th century capitalism she was deeply critical of them.” The careful consideration of the social conditioning by this new emergent bourgeois, coupled with the weight of the plot and text, lends clearly that Austen was not the well-rounded turn of the century progressive that so many have made her out to be; and this anti-canonical text provides the validation for these assertions. It’s hard to believe that an author embodying a radical morality for her time failing to mention the Industrial Revolution -- advancements in technology, the steam engine, new agra-importation, burgeoning urban centers of manufacturing, or at least the abolition of the slave trade in 1808. No, Jane was a product of her time, her novels a reflection of the socially constructed mores with which she was imbued. This is why, as a woman author of her station, she could say, knowing very little of toiling for her keep, that “Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.” I wonder what her servants would say life was like.
Brit Schulte is on the editorial board of Red Wedge.
First and foremost, the social conditioning of the spawn of the semi-feudal emerging bourgeoisie, by the established older rungs of this elite landed gentry class, sets the stage for a literary revisionist stance towards colonization; when Lady Bertram early on addresses her children stating, “There is a vast deal of difference in memories, as well as in everything else, and therefore you must make allowance for your cousin, and pity her deficiency.” This speaks to the colonial mindset, identifying distinct differences between the normalized (in this case, upper class) group and the “Other.” These sentiments would be easily translatable to the “inherent” deficiencies of those who were colonized, and the belief that they are either not deserving of better treatment or that colonization is for their betterment. Since this is a character statement, it could be argued that the character is not speaking for the author, but reflects the “universal” sentiments of this time in imperialist England.
Now that the landed aristocracy and emerging bourgeoisie have been characteristically equipped with the social conditioning necessary to implement those sorts of ideas, the gravity of what that means to colonized lands, and peoples becomes the central issue, which awkwardly remains unmentionable throughout the text. Arguably, Sir Thomas’ plantation in Antigua acts as his “colonial garden,” a landscape he improves upon through colonization. This could be supported at several points, and further reflected in the “modernization” of Mansfield. This conjecture is corroborated by the narrating accounts: “…and as his own circumstances were rendered less fair than heretofore, by some recent losses on his own West India estate, in addition to his eldest son’s extravagance, it became not undesirable to him to be relieved from the expense of her support and the obligation of her future provision.” In this excerpt, the “estate” is a plantation. The wording is far less suggestive of any sort of impropriety by referring to it as some ambiguous property Sir Thomas possesses. Other characters also take up this notion of shaping and manipulating the landscape around them, for instance Mrs. Norris comments, “If I had more room, I should take a prodigious delight in improving and planting.” This harkens to the attitude of taking “primitive” surroundings and “improving” upon them.
Also the allusion to the necessity of more space, i.e. more property to control, is inherently a bourgeois tendency. This ideology coincides with that of Imperialism, and becomes all the more obvious in its echoes of décor, cultivation of gardens, creation of pathways where there was once flora and fauna, etc. Fanny, arguably (and problematically) the most moral character, echoes these sentiments later in the chapter by saying, “It would be delightful to me to see the progress of it all.” Her use of “progress” as a description for the “modernization” of Mansfield is telling. Mrs. Crawford also falls victim to the morals and expectations of the time. Whilst commenting on Edmund’s father’s return being “interesting”, her language takes on an incredibly revealing tone.
Edmund responds to her supposition by stating, “It will, indeed, after such an absence; an absence not only long, but including many dangers.” The “dangers” are danced around like an intricate ballet of elephants, and no one makes further mention of his activities, except for a seemingly non sequitur by Miss Crawford, one page later, “It does put me in the mind of some of the old heathen heroes, who are performing great exploits in a foreign land…” The word “exploit”, though common in the vernacular of the time for the description of all manner of activities abroad, is particularly biting in this context. The glorification of foreigner adventures and safaris, as they would have been put, is an absolute attribution to this class of wealthy white landowners. This was expected behavior, and though this particular absence involves unspoken “dangers”, that adds to its celebrity all the more.
Moving from the literal and symbolic physical manipulation of the land to the textual language surrounding the slave trade, a more ambiguous atmosphere develops. The reader first encounters vague references of property and profession early on, however these encounters are cloaked in an ambiguity, which with even further investigation leads to the censorship of the slave trade. While postulating on a desire to return to his home in England, Sir Thomas is commented on by the narrator; that “Unfavorable circumstances had suddenly arisen at a moment when he was beginning to turn all his thoughts towards England, and the very rest uncertainty in which everything was then involved determined him on sending home his son and waiting the final arrangement by himself.”
Here, Sir Thomas is hoping to return from Antigua. The “unpleasant circumstances” are not expounded upon, and this elicits speculation as to whether this could be nodding at the recent legislation to outlaw slave trade or slavery that was being debated in England at this time for its implementation in the colonies. Slavery, however, is not directly mentioned in this stated section, or chapter. If Watt’s statement is true and tested: “The novel’s “solidity of setting” and vividness of detail functioned to put ‘man wholly into his physical setting’”, then the reader finds Austen neglecting an essential aspect of the novel. Austen consistently details income and lineage without discussing at length its origins, therefore not creating a vivid depiction of the setting.
Delving further into the text, whole chapters (specifically chapter twelve) are begun with these allusions to foreign activities, however no clear depiction of what is actually happening “over there” comes to fruition. For example, the opening paragraph of chapter twelve again discusses the return of the eldest son from Antigua, but makes no mention at all of any of his dealings there beyond the reference of parties, races, and well-to-do friends. Upon Sir Thomas’s return from Antigua, this is said about his time there, “His business in Antigua had latterly been prosperously rapid…” Ergo, Sir Thomas has just returned from Antigua upon his “ventures” becoming prosperous. He is able to quit his work and return to his life of leisure on the backs of the slave labor from his sugar plantation, which has heretofore still not been mentioned.
Even in this newly industrialized age, where mechanized cheap urban labor is really beginning to be utilized, (and eventually obscenely exploited) and the abolition of slavery has taken root in England, the colonies and those subjects living in them are still just as oppressed as ever, and Austen remains perpetually silent on her actual stance. Even the lecturer Mary Evans, who would have readers believe that Austen was a crusading anti-capitalist, has to concede this point: “Austen remains aloof from attempts to cull from her pages specific facts about social life and existent or emergent ideologies.” Thus, the most logical assertion is that these aforementioned examples involving the ambiguous language use, actually serve to indifferently acquiesce to the use of slave labor as a means of sustaining an extravagant lifestyle.
Since the majority of the novel employs the use of ambiguous and vague language surrounding the apparently contentious issue of the time, the mention of it by name is a particularly glaring moment in the course of the plot-line. This occurrence is the only time the phrase “slave-trade” is employed within this novel, just shy of its halfway point. The use of this phrase takes place in an exchange between Edmund and Fanny, “Did you not hear me ask him about the slave-trade last night?” “I did -- and I was in hopes the question would be followed up by others. It would have pleased your uncle to be enquired of father.” “And I longed to do it -- but there was such a dead silence!” During this dialogue, Fanny admits an attempt to engage her uncle in a discussion of the slave trade, but is then met with a disappointing “dead silence.” This seems to echo Austen’s own silence on the matter within the manuscript. Fanny does not show any remorse about the slave trade, but rather expresses her “curiosity and pleasure in his information.” Returning to the social conditioning aspect mentioned earlier, this kind of alienated reaction is fueled and foraged by a dominating class culture whose morals are skewed by the drive for profit motives and the sustainability of their leisure lifestyles (the use of sustainability is meant ironically).
After juxtaposing both the historical and material conditions of the time with the textual evidence found the question can still be begged, why was a harder lined stance not addressed by Austen in this rogue work? Near the close of the novel the statement is made, “To be a friend to the poor and oppressed! Nothing could be more grateful to her…” This statement demonstrates that Austen should have all the sentiments that could be represented as proponents of abolition both for the slave trade and slavery, especially since both practices were deemed felonies during the time the her text would have been in circulation, providing ample political ground for abolitionist stances.
Austen, in maintaining her stance on individual responsibility and autonomy, fails to accurately represent what Mary Evans claims her position within her writings to be: “a radical morality, and that far from endorsing the given, and emergent, values of the late 18th century capitalism she was deeply critical of them.” The careful consideration of the social conditioning by this new emergent bourgeois, coupled with the weight of the plot and text, lends clearly that Austen was not the well-rounded turn of the century progressive that so many have made her out to be; and this anti-canonical text provides the validation for these assertions. It’s hard to believe that an author embodying a radical morality for her time failing to mention the Industrial Revolution -- advancements in technology, the steam engine, new agra-importation, burgeoning urban centers of manufacturing, or at least the abolition of the slave trade in 1808. No, Jane was a product of her time, her novels a reflection of the socially constructed mores with which she was imbued. This is why, as a woman author of her station, she could say, knowing very little of toiling for her keep, that “Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.” I wonder what her servants would say life was like.
Brit Schulte is on the editorial board of Red Wedge.
