#because ultimately the wrong Austen heroes do is forgivable

[thatscarletflycatcher]

The more the time passes, the more convinced I am that a reading of Jane Eyre that omits the theme of mercy as key to the story is incomplete at best and bad at worst.

[fortunatelylori]

Thoughts on Otis Molyneux

I hesitated somewhat before making this post because the fandom seems to have settled on Otis being “a good man who made one terrible mistake” and who am I to rain on anyone’s parade?

Inner goddess: A very opinionated woman … that’s who … No one keeps baby down!

Well … since you put it that way …

My very first meta on Sanditon revolved around the idea that this show is Andrew Davies’ homage to Austen’s entire body of work. And since I discovered a very interesting link between Otis and one of the more misinterpreted Austen characters, I couldn’t resist. Particularly since every time I read a remark on Otis, I end up going:

He is a most fortunate man! Everything turns out for his own good! He meets a young woman at a watering place, gains her affections, she consents to an engagement! He treats her abominably, she bares it like a saint! His aunt is in the way, his aunt dies! He has used everybody ill and they are all delighted to forgive him! He is a most fortunate man indeed!

Emma is perhaps Jane Austen’s most transgressive novel and, while it is not my favorite (that’s Persuasion in case anyone was wandering), I think it’s the clearest indication of her genius. In Emma, Austen not only spoofs herself, as the old maid Miss Bates, but also pulls off a master stroke in concealing her villain, Frank Churchill, not only from the characters but also from the audience.

Austen villains are usually charming, fun and attractive, most of the time far more so than the hero that will eventually win the heroine’s heart. What Austen does with the likes of Wickham and Willoughby is show that superficial charm and a pretty face are poor substitutes for substance, integrity and a value system.

In order to drive that point home, her villains usually suffer a fall from grace: Wickham gets exiled to Newcastle (the degradation!) and is stuck with Lydia for the rest of his life; Willoughby gets ousted by his aunt, told off by Eleanor and publically canceled by Mrs. Jenkins.

Whatever it may be, all of her villains suffer some consequences (even if it’s just not getting the girl as is the case for William Elliot in Persuasion). All except one: Frank Churchill. As Mr. Knightley’s frustrated speech above shows, Frank is so fortunate that by the end of Emma, he gets everything he’s ever wanted and everyone continues to love and cherish him as if nothing had happened (with the exception of Emma and Knightley).

And because the characters move on from his betrayal so quickly you can barely get a glimpse into their POVs, so does the audience. By the end of the book, most of the readers are as pleased with Frank as the people of Highbury.

I can just imagine Jane Austen cackling with joy at our silliness.

Just because there are no consequences for Frank and because all ends well despite his efforts to the contrary, it doesn’t follow that he should be absolved of responsibility. For all his professed love for Jane, Frank involves her in an imaginary extramarital affair, flirts with Emma in front of her and ultimately humiliates her at the picnic. For all his friendliness and affability, he is less than generous to his father, uses Emma for his own motives and is secretly chopping at the bit to see his aunt, the woman who raised him, dead so he can inherit her fortune. Despite what his endgame would suggest, Frank Churchill is an immature, selfish man who is used to getting his own way with little thought or care about how that might hurt other people.

Which brings us to Otis “I fell in love with your soul” Molyneux.

But, but … I hear you say … Fortunatelylori, he did suffer consequences. He lost Georgiana!

To which I say don’t bring out the pity parade just yet. Because in losing Georgiana, Otis’ actions are reduced to an unfortunate youthful indiscretion by the characters (Georgiana and Charlotte) as well as by the people watching. Because he shed some resigned tears and spoke prettily about how much he loved Georgiana’s soul, everyone is “delighted to forgive him”.

But just as with Frank, is his love for Georgiana enough to absolve him of his wrongdoings? Should we cheer for their potential reunion or think she deserves better, the way Mr. Knightley thinks about Jane? And while we’re on the subject, what are Otis’ crimes? He clearly never meant to cause Georgiana’s kidnapping so what’s the big deal?

What gets lost in Charlotte’s “you are insensible of feeling” rebuke of Sidney is that Otis isn’t a victim of circumstances nor is him honestly being in love with Georgiana a get out of jail free card. Otis is a gambling addict who has amassed debts so vast that the man who is trying to collect them resorts to kidnapping a teenager to get his money back. And that’s just one guy he owes money to.

Does he love Georgiana? Yes, in his own way he loves her just about as much as he loves losing money at cards. What do you think would have happened if they married? Because me thinks Otis would run through that 100.000 real quick while simultaneously loving the hell out of Georgiana’s soul.

Which brings me to Otis’s less than agreeable character traits: lying and manipulation. He lies to Georgiana from the first moment he meets her. Worst yet, he takes advantage of her vulnerability and he encourages her to rely solely on him for emotional support:

Georgiana: I was uprooted. Lost. In despair. Otis restored me to life. Those 3 months were the happiest I’ve known.

That sounds great and all but what happens after he’s gone from her life is that Georgiana feels like she suddenly has no one and nothing. Because her entire sense of self was tied to Otis.

He also allows Georgiana to believe that her guardian is a racist monster who is keeping them apart because of the color of his skin when he knows full well that’s not the case and also that Georgiana needs to have a good relationship with Sidney for the foreseeable future at least.

In order to keep up the charade, he takes active part in poisoning Charlotte against Sidney and very much enjoys playing the wronged party in this whole scenario:

Otis: But then your friend, Mr. Parker, took it upon himself to rip us apart.

Charlotte: However painful that might have been, Mr. Parker must surely have had Georgiana’s best interest at heart.

Otis: Then you clearly don’t know Mr. Parker as well as you think.

 Lying is so ingrained in Otis’ modus operandi that he can’t help himself from doing it even when there’s not even the slightest chance that he can get away with it:

Beecroft: Oh, yes! The famous Miss Lambe! Mr. Molyneux speaks of little else. Miss Lambe this, Miss Lambe that.

Otis: That is a lie! If I mentioned her it was only in passing …

Beecroft: I’m not the liar here. You told me a wedding was imminent. That her fortune was as good as yours. I never would have let him run such a debt otherwise.

Otis: All I wanted was to buy a little time … If I had known even for one moment …

What was that about Sidney not having good reason to keep you away from Georgiana, Otis?!?

Also look at him running the eluding responsibility obstacle course like a pro:

Otis: He’s sold her! The villain has sold her!

Charlotte: What?

Sidney: In return for a promise to buy his debt, she’s been handed to some dissolute named Howard. Even now he’ll be dragging her to an altar.

Charlotte: An altar? But that cannot be allowed without your permission.

Sidney:  No. They have no such laws across the border. There they will marry you with impunity.

Otis: Had you only allowed us to marry!

Otis has gambled himself silly, bragged about Georgiana’s money to the worst possible people, disappeared from public view (he hasn’t picked up his mail in weeks because he’s in hiding from the debt collectors) and his reaction is to put all the blame on Sidney. That is not the behavior of a well-balanced adult. This is the behavior of a gambler who thinks he can talk his way out of anything because he has “game”.

This brings us to his last scene with Georgiana when everything comes into focus. If you really think about it, there is not a single moment during their relationship where Otis isn’t lying to her, including the romantic separation that hit everyone in the feels:

Otis: I’ve gambled. That is true. But whatever they tell you, I never gambled with your name.

Notice how the first thing out of his mouth is manipulative. “Whatever they tell you” i.e. turst no one but me. I’m the only one who is telling the truth so listen to me as I lie my ass off right now.

Otis: I never boasted of your wealth. I boasted of you.

Two lines in and he’s already lied twice. You can actually do a play by play of what he says here and what he says in the Beecroft scene.

And then comes the coup de grace!

Otis: It was pride. That is all! And Lord knows, I have paid for it!

As consequence of his gambling, hiding from his creditors and running his mouth about Georgiana’s fortune, the woman he loves was kidnapped, Charlotte almost got raped and Sidney is however many thousands of pounds lighter for paying off his debts. So bring out the waterworks for Otis, guys! Let’s not forget who the real victim in all of this is!  

Alexa, play Despacito.

Otis lies so much he has ended up internalizing his lies to such an extent that he has turned himself into a victim. His narrative is ultimately rejected by Georgiana, leaving him pained but that shouldn’t fool you into thinking he’s a good guy. Neither he nor Frank are moustache twirling villains but their flaws and the way they allow those flaws to affect the people they supposedly love speaks volumes about their character.

Maybe, eventually, they both grow up. Maybe Frank becomes more selfless and starts treating others with respect. Maybe Otis never gambles again and becomes the responsible civil rights leader he wants others to see him as.

But as things stand at the end of their story line, I, for one, am not willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. It’s sadly too late for Jane to pick herself another husband. But I haven’t given up hope that Georgiana will shake Otis off like a spot of English rain.

[janeaustentextposts]

Hi, I love your blog! Question: what do you think of Edward Ferrars? I feel as if a lot of people on the internet dislike him, but I can't see why. Do you like him as a character?

Thank you so much! :)I think every Austen ‘hero’ has some flawed element about them which humanizes them. Certainly since we spend less time in their company than the heroines and, socially, none of the men are ever at risk of suffering the decline of genteel poverty if they do not marry, so altogether I’m less inclined to be as sympathetic to them as I am to the ladies they eventually wed. Of course Austen’s heroines are human and flawed, too, but it’s just made a lot easier to generally bash on the dudes because they have fewer excuses for being fuckups, honestly. (Except Emma Woodhouse, like, honeeeey STOP.)

I think the issue encountered with Edward is that he’s not as dashing as other heros, in the Austen canon in general, and in S&S in particular. There’s Willoughby to first compare him to--dashing. as. fuck. Then there’s the Colonel, who, though older and more reserved than Willoughby, has a sensitive and poetic soul, the true courage of an active soldier, and the deep passion of a romantic gentleman. Edward is dreadfully prosaic by comparison! And he was foolish enough to be ensnared by Lucy, at a young age.

It’s very easy to slag off Edward; and, as a lot of more sensitive young readers might more readily identify with Marianne sooner than steady, cool, rational Elinor, the temptation to agree with her judgements of Edward is immediate and powerful. Edward seems to bumble about the plot, inadvertently messing with Elinor’s feelings, and we despise him for putting her in the position she ends up in as a jealous Lucy’s confidante.

BUT, I gotta admit I have a soft spot for ol’ Ferrars. In his defense, he’s kind of perfect for Elinor, and that’s the point. Marianne has finite, naive, and shallow ideas of what True Love ought to look like, and writes off every other possibility as Lesser. Elinor doesn’t want High Drama and all that rot...she wants someone companionable, honourable, and kind. Of course she doesn’t escape being touched by the agony of love, because in a weird twist of ironic fate, she cannot wholly command her heart quite as well as everyone (read: Marianne) seems to think she can and does, and she and Edward experience their share of lovelorn misery thanks to misunderstandings and the constraints of duty.

Point The Second: Edward was very young and naive when he engaged himself to Lucy. He later admits that he very quickly realized how awful an idea this was once he’s gone and lived a grown-up life around literally any other people for even a short period of time; and it’s only because he was a young man, kept idle, in the company of a pretty girl determined to make herself pleasing to him, that he made a foolish promise. His misery has been low-key ongoing before he even appears on the scene in the book. His grim acceptance of his eventual fate as Lucy’s husband prevents him from even letting himself think of Elinor as a possibility--he honestly doesn’t believe himself to be attractive enough a prospect, and figures he is not exerting himself to please as a man might attempt to please a woman to gain her regard, because they just get along in a friendly way and they’re sort of almost family, after all. In this weird grey-area limbo, disaster strikes and they both find themselves caught up in their affections before they realize what’s going on, and before they can stop it. Should Edward have been more guarded? Possibly. But again, Elinor’s coolness of manner and level-headedness is well-known to all her friends and family. In the style of Jane Bennet, Edward might have felt his heart unfortunately involved, but may have doubted Elinor’s returning his feelings in the same fashion.

Ultimately, Edward’s mistake in attaching himself to Lucy is no worse than Marianne’s attaching herself to Willoughby--and better, for Lucy and Edward don’t even really love one another, so there’s zero heartbreak in their eventual split. And Edward’s honour and chivalry go a long way in absolving him for some of the inadvertent crap he pulled. Eyes wide open, he knowingly severs ties with his mother (and his inheritance) to keep a promise made long ago, in error, to a girl he cannot even respect, because he knows how cruel and damaging it would be to her if he were to give up the engagement, once it was made public. Such promises, even held in secret for years, were a huge deal, and to break them could have even meant legal repercussions--though given the Steele’s comparative poverty and the Ferrars family’s money, it’s likely they could have bought their way out of any suit brought against Edward in the courts by Lucy. No, Edward sticks it out for honour. It was wrong to make the engagement, but it would be even more wrong for him to be the one to break it. Lucy is the only one who can release him from it, and, thank fuck, she does.

A common theme in Austen is the danger and misery of marrying without affection--and, in several cases, the worst marriages are the ones where there is not even a shred of respect between spouses. This would have been Edward’s willing fate, and though it breaks our hearts to think of so strictly denying oneself happiness, it’s a sign of how deep his personal convictions are, and how admirable his sense of self-sacrifice, to keep his own terrible, foolish promise. Certainly, in intentions, Edward was more than ready to pay for his mistake for the rest of his life.

If Elinor is willing to forgive Edward, I certainly am, and I think, by the end of it all, Edward has certainly suffered just as much as Elinor, (even, I think, partially believing that Elinor might be likely to go on to marry the Colonel, mistaking their friendship for some deeper connection,) and was prepared to suffer a great deal more, in marrying Lucy, that his quiet bravery and steadfast honour make him a hero worth liking.