While it might not be in good taste to interrupt someone, especially a guest in one’s home, it only takes a brief preview of James Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women to understand why Lydia Bennet felt the need to dismiss Mr. Collins’ attempted read-aloud. Below is a particularly provoking excerpt from Fordyce’s sermons:

Your business chiefly is to read Men, in order to make yourselves agreeable and useful. It is not the argumentative but the sentimental talents, which give you that insight and those openings into the human heart, that lead to your principal ends as Women. (1: 198-199)

Here, Fordyce draws the boundaries of a woman’s life: Her exploration of the world is limited to the study of men. If she is attentive to her studies, she can become agreeable and useful, and then, perhaps, succeed in becoming someone’s sentimental wife.

It must be said that Fordyce makes a commendable effort to convince young ladies that their life’s purpose is to make themselves “agreeable and useful.” His comprehensive advice is articulated in two heavy volumes, and the outlined defects of women are neatly packaged in patronizing compliments that Mr. Collins himself could not have prepared better.

While there is no indication that Jane Austen wrote her novels specifically to contradict Fordyce’s advice, the tediousness of dedicating one’s life to the study and service of men is so adeptly and subtly woven into her plots, that it is comforting to imagine this was her primarily goal in writing. Austen’s rebuttal to Fordyce’s two volumes is captured with a single word: “Nothingness.”

In this essay, I argue that the word “nothingness” is strategically placed in the novels Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion to draw attention to the restrictive realities facing young women in the nineteenth-century. In using this word, Austen draws attention to the inequity and powerlessness experienced by young women, especially those whose only education came from books published by Fordyce and other solemn men.

Caroline’s Craft

Before the arrival of Mr. Collins, and the attempted reading of Fordyce’s sermons, the business of reading men is modelled by Caroline Bingley at Sir William Lucas’ party. It is during this party that the word “nothingness,” which appears only once in Pride and Prejudice, is spoken by Caroline.

As Elizabeth turns away from Mr. Darcy after a short interaction, Mr. Darcy is “thus accosted by Miss Bingley” (25), who unburdens herself with the following observation:

You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this Manner - in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity and yet the noise; the nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people! - What would I give to hear your strictures on them! (25)

It is true that Caroline, who often only speaks to compliment Mr. Darcy or to insult everyone else, does not exactly nurture a reader’s sympathy. In fact, Caroline’s eagerness to engage Mr. Darcy, juxtaposed with his quick dismissal, is allowed to be amusing because Austen has skilfully characterized her as censurable. Yet, simultaneously, Austen’s choice of setting and diction in this scene also serves to unravel Caroline’s antagonistic persona to reveal quite a powerless reality.

The exchange between Caroline and Mr. Darcy is anchored in her acute awareness of her social standing. As Slothouber explains, Caroline and her sister Louisa are anxious because, although their family has acquired new wealth, they “perceive that the family’s job of social transformation is not yet complete” (60). Indeed, Mr. Darcy’s blunt, and often silent, responses to Sir William highlight just how long this transformation can take. Sir William has gained wealth and a title, but he has not yet gained the respect of Mr. Darcy.

While Slothouber pairs Caroline and Louisa together in their feelings of anxiety, it is important to note Caroline’s unique position among her family. As a man, Mr. Bingley has the power to use this new wealth to serve his needs, and his easy manner is a direct reflection of his sense of security in the world. Her sister Louisa has gained a sense of security through marriage; she is now able to play with her bracelets idly in social settings and engage in petty gossip unrestrained. Caroline is not so lucky.

She is still an unmarried woman and her future is dependent on the rank of her husband. It is unsurprising therefore that Caroline works diligently to distinguish herself from Sir William and his guests; she physically separates from the party to join Mr. Darcy, and then immediately establishes a binary between herself and the guests by referring to them as “such society.” This phrase implies that there is something defective about the other guests that must be avoided and, mirroring Mr. Darcy, it affirms that Sir William’s accumulation of wealth does not entitle him to her respect.

Yet, despite Caroline’s insistence that she is distinct and separate from the party, it is not enough. Austen’s choice to have Mr. Darcy reveal his admiration of Elizabeth during this scene is a nuanced reminder that Caroline is at risk of being left behind with “such society.” While Mr. Darcy carves his own path through life, Caroline is restricted to the paths she is invited to walk along. Mr. Darcy does not seem keen to invite her to join him.

Indeed, in a discussion on marriage in the nineteenth-century, Herman explains that “[m]ost women traded their autonomy and bodies for economic security provided by a man” (209). Along with their autonomy and bodies, Austen uses Caroline to highlight the trade of authenticity: Caroline is willing to craft herself into what she believes is Mr. Darcy’s ideal partner. As such, Caroline’s use of the word “nothingness” in this scene is not simply an uncivil remark about the company, but a precarious sense of self. If Caroline is left behind - if she remains unmarried or does not secure a respectable marriage - she will be subject to the same contempt she is showing Sir William and his party. In fact, the distance between them is not very expansive. As a woman, her value is assigned to her by the men she is expected to study and please, and it is clear in this scene that she is not succeeding. Caroline is not chasing after Mr. Darcy so much as she is running away from the abyss of “nothingness.”

Elizabeth’s Escapism

While Caroline actively attempts to avoid a state of nothingness, Elizabeth Elliot takes a much more hands off approach in Persuasion. Elizabeth is twenty-nine years old, unmarried, and on the verge of becoming poor. While she is still beautiful, she admits to feeling an “approach to the years of danger, and would have rejoiced to be certain of being properly solicited by baronet-blood within the next twelvemonth or two” (38). Yet, despite her uncertain circumstances, Elizabeth does not seem to be overcome by urgency. In fact, even her father, Sir Walter, brushes the reality away with the belief that she “would, one day or other, marry suitably” (38).

There is a detached denial that lingers around Elizabeth. Unlike Caroline—whose character is unpacked through interactions with other characters—Elizabeth’s feelings are often described by a narrator. In fact, when not whispering to Mrs. Clay, Elizabeth is mostly silent throughout the novel. Austen weaves Elizabeth’s story together with a thread of stagnation, beginning with the scene of Elizabeth reminiscing about Mr. Elliot’s past rejection, and subsequent humiliation, of her:

Such were Elizabeth Elliot’s sentiments and sensations; such the cares to alloy, the agitations to vary, the sameness and the elegance, the prosperity and the nothingness, of her scene of life – such the feelings to give interest to a long, uneventful residence in one country circle, to fill the vacancies which there were no habits of utility abroad, no talents or accomplishments for home, to occupy. (40)

This scene is sandwiched between a description of Mr. Elliot’s rejection of her and her father’s growing debt. By structuring the chapter in this way, Austen evokes a sense of entrapment. Elizabeth’s security can come from either marriage or her father, and neither prospect seems promising. Stuck in the middle, the cares, agitations, sameness, elegance, and prosperity that frame Elizabeth’s life mark the passage of time, but do not nurture her growth as an individual. Instead, they act more like props in a play that she is not directing.

Indeed, it is interesting that Austen uses the phrase “scene of life” in this excerpt, rather than using “life” in isolation. The addition of the word “scene” suggests that Elizabeth is watching her life unfold, rather than playing an active role in shaping her future. Elizabeth is trapped in the monotony of a single scene, living in an “uneventful residence,” where she waits to find a suitable husband.

The “nothingness” that Austen refers to in this scene highlights Elizabeth’s lack of agency in her own life. While she has some influence over her father, his admiration for himself supersedes any real respect for Elizabeth. She exerts some power over her sister Anne, but her antagonism is neither proactive nor meticulously planned; rather, the harm she causes her is a byproduct of inconsideration. With the exception of Mr. Elliot, who has already rejected her, there is also no indication that Elizabeth is doing anything (other than remaining beautiful) to capture the attention of the baronet-blooded man she desires.

Yet, Elizabeth is not wholly apathetic. Austen draws attention to Elizabeth’s consistent acts of escapism: She refuses to read the Baronetage, distances herself from Anne (who is also growing older and disappointed in love), and attaches herself to those who will make her feel elevated in rank. Elizabeth seems stuck and swallowed by her circumstances. If her “sentiments and sensations” (40) are anchored in regret, pain, and fear of the future, her desire to remain still, stagnant, and silent may be the only forms of security she knows how to build for herself.

In contrast, Anne nurtures an authentic relationship with Mrs Smith, Captain Benwick, and the Crofts; none of these characters serve to elevate her rank, but they all give her a voice and some sense of control over her own life. In a discussion on healing, Jones explains that this new social circle “writes a different backstory for Anne than the one she has been hearing and telling herself through eight long years” (678). Ultimately, as Jones observes, Anne’s ability to form close bonds enables her to re-narrate her life and find a sense of agency.

Elizabeth does not write her own story; instead, she is waiting for the end that is promised to well behaved women. The relationships between Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay, her father, and the Dalrymples are superficial and based solely on vanity. Significantly, the relationship Elizabeth has with herself is superficial; living between a painful past and an uncertain future, Elizabeth has collapsed into a state of passivity. The “nothingness” she currently feels dulls the fear of the nothingness that will accompany her should she become a poor, unmarried woman.

Navigating Nothingness

Fordyce ends the second volume of Sermons to Young Women with the following reflection on life and death:

However you may try to forget it, life is all uncertain: and when those eyes, now full of lucid spirit, shall sink in darkness, when that complexion, now bright and blooming, shall die away into a livid hue, and men shall turn with horror from those features which they behold at present with delight; what will the world avail you, or the world’s applause? Death, I say, Death is no courtier; he will shew you to yourselves as you really are, divested of every external decoration and skin-deep allurement. (2: 213)

This excerpt begins by reinforcing the notion that a woman’s value is directly dependent on a man’s opinion; it is the men who have the agency to “turn with horror” from the women who have lost their ability to be agreeable and useful. It ends with an ominous warning that nobody can hide from themselves forever. In death, Fordyce asserts, each person will have to face their true selves. His intent is not to encourage authenticity among women; rather, it is quite the opposite. He is warning women that if they fail to follow the conduct prescribed to them, they will face judgement both in life and in death. Simply, he is affirming the boundaries of a woman’s life.

Yet, it is within these boundaries that Caroline and Elizabeth shrink themselves into inauthenticity and become strangers to themselves. Caroline expends her energy trying to make herself agreeable to Mr. Darcy, and Elizabeth detaches herself from reality. The “nothingness” envelopes all aspects of their lives—they fear becoming nothing, they have control over nothing, and, despite their different approaches to negotiating these boundaries, they have nothing of substance to show for it.

Austen’s primary goal in writing her novels may not have been to contradict Fordyce’s sermons or other conduct manuals instructing young women, but she nonetheless succeeds in challenging the oversimplification of women’s lives that such texts offer. Her genius is exemplified by her ability to honour the complexity, pain, and nuances that shape each individual’s life. It is this stubborn and courageous refusal to minimize the lives of women that prompted my choice for this essay.