Sense & Sensibility, chapter 1: Death & Inevitability

It all starts with a grunkle. 

Old Henry Dashwood (soon to be Dead Henry Dashwood) is a lonely man in a big, big house and just wants to be surrounded by family. He’s got this nephew, Mr. Henry (soon to be Mr. Dead Henry), who has a large family who wants to keep Old Henry company and fill his remaining years with joy. They perform that duty extremely well and everyone is happy because no one has to worry about money—especially John, Mr. Henry’s son by his first marriage, who found a mate with a nice dowry.

And then Little Henry comes along to spoil the whole set-up. After “occasional visits with his father and mother at Norland,” Little Henry “gained on the affections of his [gr]uncle, by such attractions as… an imperfect articulation, an earnest desire of having his own way, many cunning tricks, and a great deal of noise.” Oh, God, I bet he smells, too. 

This results in “outweigh[ing] all the value of all the attention which, for years, [Old Henry] had received from his niece and her daughters.”

See, the Dashwood sisters don’t become poor just because of Fanny Dashwood’s greedy influence or half-brother John’s lack of integrity. No—it’s also because Old Henry takes such a liking to Little Henry that he decides to leave the bulk of his wealth to his great-grandnephew. Because we don’t want to interrupt the flow of family money going straight into the pockets of the first-born son unless you’re Mrs. Ferrars. After Old Henry dies, Mr. Henry attempts to ensure that his rather meager portion of the family wealth is secured for his daughters, of which there are three, so he has a lot of saving to do. But then he dies before he’s saved enough of his own income. He beseeches his son to support his step-family now that he, Mr. Dead Henry, cannot. 

And so it comes down to John Dashwood, a “rather cold-hearted,” “rather selfish” man who married a woman who is “more narrow-minded and selfish” than he. Now if you’re thinking this doesn’t bode well for the Dashwood sisters, either you’ve already read this book or you’re pretty familiar with human nature. Initially he’s inclined to give 3,000 pounds to his step-sisters to make their lives “comfortable.” David M. Shapard reckons John’s annual income is around $500,000, give or take a few tens of thousands. John can afford to be charitable. 

But it’s his wife Fanny who strikes the first offense against the Dashwood girls. “[W]ithout sending any notice of her intention to her mother-in-law,” Fanny Dashwood moves into the Norland estate right after Old Dead Henry’s funeral. This is a crazy rude thing to do, and the text heavily implies that Fanny just doesn’t care: she’s fine with “showing them with how little attention to the comfort of other people she could act when occasion required it.” Thanks to inheritance and property laws, technically the married Dashwood couple are now the owners of Norland (well, John is and Fanny’s along for the ride), so they’d have to move in at some point. But this is just bad form.

Mama Dashwood is so incensed at Fanny’s lack of respect that she almost packs up and leaves. But her eldest, Elinor—“possess[ing] a strength of understanding, and coolness of judgment” that Mama doesn’t have—convinces her to stay put. Elinor ends up doing most of the work: welcoming John and Fanny, catching John up on the state of the household, and prodding her mother into behaving respectfully. Though “ her feelings [are] strong,” Elinor “[knows] how to govern them.”

Where she learned this particular talent is left unsaid, which becomes especially intriguing when we learn that Mama Dashwood and the other two daughters are not of the same stripe. Marianne, the most beloved daughter, is the most determinedly romantic and sentimental of all three: she “resolved never to be taught” how to control her feelings, despite possessing the same “abilities” as Elinor. Marianne and her mother feed off one another’s grief and pain in an obtrusive way that prolongs the process and makes them bad hostesses to their half-brother’s family. This is presented as bad, which it is, but it’s also highly relatable. 

A quick discussion about grief in this novel: the loss of Mr. Henry isn’t really touched upon after this chapter. Yet I don’t think this is an oversight of the author’s. Jane Austen lost her father amid composing drafts of Sense & Sensibility, so it’s not like she didn’t understand grief. Based on the text, I think we’re not meant to transpose the Dashwood girls’ loss onto their every subsequent action. Going forward, I may occasionally muse on the effect of grief, especially on Marianne’s psyche, but only as it relates to the title personality traits.

Already, there’s a motif of withholding: Old Henry essentially withholds a great deal of money from beloved family members, Fanny Dashwood withholds any respect and consideration for her step-mother, and Elinor withholds joining in the outpour of grief that her mother and sister indulge in. Old Henry being swayed by fondness for an ordinary kid is an example of an especially narrow-minded sensibility. Fanny stepping on toes in order to claim her rightful place is an example of especially narrow-minded sense. 

Elinor conserving her feelings in order to perform the tasks at hand? Juuuust right.

Oh, and Margaret exists. There. Now I’ve covered everything.

Next time: Fanny’s powers of reasoning are perfectly suited to her audience’s sense of integrity.