Sense & Sensibility, chapter 4: All About Edward

From this point on, Edward Ferrars is a closed book until Lucy Steele enters the narrative. But that just ensures that there’s more to say about Edward—the bulk of which comes from the character who likes him the most. Elinor assures Marianne of his good qualities: “his understanding and his principles” rate as excellent, “his mind is well-informed, his enjoyment of books exceedingly great, his imagination lively, his observation just and correct, and his taste delicate and pure.” It’s just a matter of getting past his “shyness” and (some might argue severe) lack of charisma. During “unreserved conversation,” he blossoms into a man with a “handsome” figure and “general sweetness.”

Hmmm. He’s really starting to sound like a certain soft-spoken, perceptive niece who is dependent on the goodness of her imposing, wealthy relations, isn’t he? I wonder if that might account for some of the dislike for Edward among readers.

Marianne is momentarily at a loss on how to express her opinion about Edward. She likes him just fine and is happy that he makes Elinor happy. Elinor notes that Marianne has been preoccupied with grieving and therefore hasn’t gotten to know Edward like she has. But Marianne can’t hide her feelings about someone: as Elinor says, her “behavior to him is perfectly cordial, and if [she disapproved of Edward], I am sure you could never be civil to him.” Marianne does not take offense to this observation, but seeks to avoid offending Elinor. She hopes to “love him as a brother” once Elinor names the date.

And here, we have the first of many instances where Elinor must burst Marianne’s bubble. At first, she tries to downplay her feelings for Edward—“I greatly esteem, I like him.” Marianne accuses her of being “cold-hearted” and even “[a]shamed of being otherwise!”—such an extreme outburst that it makes Elinor laugh. But it also gets her to admit that her feelings go deeper than that; she’s guarding her heart because she’s not sure where she stands romantically with Edward. Marianne, however, fails to see this uncertainty as a major roadblock to their inevitable union.

So we’re already getting a good look at the complex relationship between these sisters. Elinor takes pains to lay out her objective thoughts about Edward and her own heart. Marianne doesn’t seem to fully comprehend what her sister says, but does call Elinor out when she thinks Elinor’s lying about her feelings. Both of these characters want to be truthful, but in different ways. And while it may be too soon to make any grand statements about their dueling philosophies, at least in this chapter we see both Elinor’s sense and Marianne’s romantic sensitivity given equal weight: Elinor doesn’t dismiss Marianne’s intensity, but responds to it with emotional honesty (even if it does make her giggle).

But Marianne fails to take away Elinor’s further observations about Edward’s behavior. His occasional “want of spirits” often seems like “indifference.” Moreover, Elinor is aware of his mother’s ambition for him to marry someone of “either a great fortune or high rank,” she herself scoring very low on both counts. Even worse, “the longer they were together, the more doubtful seemed the nature of his regard.”

This all happens over the course of six months. Let that sink in. First, Elinor gets to know Edward (Marianne and Mama are still in mourning). They discuss art, literature, maybe the fact that they’ve both lost their fathers—this isn’t explicit, but the description of Edward’s sensitivity seems to make it a possibility and hey, it’s something they have in common. Then for the next several weeks, she notices “a want of spirits about him” that implies either “indifference” or “something almost as unpromising.” She’s experiencing mixed signals and it’s getting her to doubt her reality—or at least her powers of inference.

A clue that we readers have as to Edward’s real feelings comes in the form of Fanny Dashwood’s unprompted warning to Mama Dashwood. Fanny puts into words the reason why Edward is off-limits: her mother’s “resolution that both her sons should marry well” and “great expectations” for her eldest. Since this is the first time Fanny has been explicitly rude to her in-laws—the narrator actually points this out for us—it’s clear that Fanny feels threatened by Edward’s growing feelings for Elinor.

Mama Dashwood doesn’t take this well, and luckily finds an opportunity to act on her offended feelings. A letter “written in the true spirit of friendly accommodation” from a semi-distant relation offers Barton Cottage (some 200 miles, or 325 kilometers away), a house on his land. He even offers for the Dashwood women to stay at his house until he gets the cottage in better shape for them. But Mama Dashwood, bent on getting away from Fanny and protecting Elinor from Fanny’s “insinuations,” accepts the offer right then and there. She does pause long enough to show her daughters the contents of her acceptance letter “[so] that she might be secure of their approbation,” proving that she can still be considerate of her loved ones even while righteously angry. 

We learn that Elinor consents to the arrangement even though this “removal from the vicinity of Norland [is] beyond her wishes.” This may have to do with leaving Edward, but given her complicated feelings about him, I think it points to a desire to stay close to her hometown. David M. Shapard points out that “her willingness for self-sacrifice” will show up throughout the novel; it’s in these moments of “self-sacrifice” that we glimpse Elinor’s depth of feeling. 

Will a different setting help or hinder Elinor’s and Edward’s relationship? The answer is … frustrating. Join me next time!