Support Issues in Sense & Sensibility

The journey I had with Sense & Sensibility has been quite different from my other Austen reads. My opinion of this novel was never fully set in stone, so this was as much of an exploration of the fluidity of my feelings as it was an attempt to nail down the essence of Sense & Sensibility. 

Seasoned readers agree that the the two personality traits—good sense and sensitivity—are not split between Elinor and Marianne, but exist in both sisters. Elinor listens to her sense while Marianne lets her Romantic sensibility guide her actions. And because Elinor is a static character while Marianne’s actions contribute to her suffering, Austen’s strong critique of sensibility seems a bit too unfair.  At no point does Elinor suffer because she abides by common sense—in fact, she profits by remaining even-keeled and keeping her strong feelings tucked away. 

I don’t really like this conclusion. It’s too surface-level.

So let’s assume that neither Marianne nor Elinor are wrong for their separate values. That one’s sensitivity and the other’s reasoning skills are both justifiable responses to the problems—and people—they encounter. If each sister is meant to possess a mixture of both qualities, then neither should be condemned. It could be argued that Marianne’s outbursts are driven by a logic of her own. And that Elinor’s sensible approach is due to an inclination to show sensitivity to others, rather than just feel it herself.

The Dashwood sisters are surrounded by characters who display sense and/or sensibility either intermittently or not at all. Authority figures in particular lack sense or powers of deduction. Foolish, insensitive , and downright vicious characters appear to wield more power than those with good sense. If Marianne can recognize this nonsense just as well as Elinor, then might we consider her passion and idealism a reasonable reaction? Though immature, Marianne’s view of the world has an attractive purity to it. It’s only that this logic is unconventional by the standards of the book’s setting. Her Romance is a reaction to the insincerity and idiocy that buffers her and Elinor from residence to residence; it is her armor against selfishness and petty motivations.

The difference is not the traits themselves, but how each sister uses them. Marianne’s sensibility serves her own ego; Elinor’s sense serves those around her. This points more to the difference in age and especially their different functions in the family. Elinor saw what was lacking in her mother and formed her role in making up for it. I speculate that as the favorite, Marianne learned to place her feelings on a pedestal. The sisters are set up as inversions of each other, but with enough love and respect to form a strong bond. 

They are never pitted against each other … but they are contrasted with the superficiality of other sibling pairs, which is where S&S is at its most dynamic. The Steele sisters are their most obvious foil, but the Ferrars brothers, the Jennings sisters (Mrs. Palmer and Lady Middleton), and John Dashwood’s neglect as their brother all demonstrate uneasy or toxic relationships. The numerous examples of unhealthy family units cause isolation and misunderstanding for the Dashwood sisters as their world expands. (Even a sibling war of sorts adds to Col. Brandon’s woes, as his brother’s unfaithfulness has a negative impact on his marriage to Eliza.) 

The third most important word in the title is “and.” It’s that “and” that brings the sisters together and remind us that they should be read not as opposites, but as a functioning unit. They each prioritize their love and support for one another … until outside forces threaten their dynamic. A breakdown in communication comes midway through the novel, when both sisters are preoccupied with their romantic relationships. Elinor is put in an impossible position thanks to Lucy Steele, which for a while affects the sisters’ relationship negatively. A more observant, less self-absorbed Marianne might have given her more grace, however—which she does eventually, but only once the secret is out and Elinor is free to discuss the root of her problem.

I said before that there is a motif of withholding throughout the novel, which I stand by: cf. John Dashwood withholding money, Mrs. Ferrars withholding her love and approval, Mama Dashwood withholding the means for her daughters to have more active lives. But the most intriguing point for me is which Dashwood sister withholds more from the other, and why. Elinor merely withholds information that she isn’t allowed to pass on. Marianne withholds emotional support that her sister needs and crucial details about the prospect of her relationship with Willoughby. This is again due to her relationship with her sensibility: it serves her feelings and justifies her excessive behavior. Elinor, on the other hand, is used to giving (and giving and giving), allowing her to support Marianne wholeheartedly.

Need I even list the ways in which other families fail as cohesive units? Mrs. Ferrars almost loses both of her sons due to her lack of love and ability to be loved. Lucy ends up stealing money from Anne and throwing away all the goodwill she had with her cousin Mrs. Jennings. Col. Brandon’s tyrannical father sets in motion the downfall of the elder Brandon and his wife. John Dashwood’s anxiety over his wealth robs his sisters and stepmother of a necessary income. And Toothpick Bobby just plain sucks. The one kind family member who has a positive effect on the plot? Sir John, who provides his Dashwood cousins with a house and small acts of charity. Sir John, who is largely ineffective, tiresome, and a worse gossip than Mrs. Jennings!

During this read, I surprised myself by getting pulled into Marianne’s story to the point where sometimes I had little room for Elinor. Now, though, I realize that Marianne’s narrative has the more flashy hook: she pines, she suffers, she chases after her man, she gets a couple of wake-up calls, she resolves to be better. Elinor, mature, steady Elinor, is better-equipped for her trials and triumphs at the end of the day. But by preferring one sister’s story over the other, I have a sneaky feeling that I’m falling into the same trap that Austen’s foolish characters do: I take Elinor, and her strength, for granted. Instead, we should learn how she uses her strength, how she gives it to Marianne in her hour of need. We talk about Marianne not holding anything back. But it’s Elinor who contributes to the well-being of those around her. 

The “and” is the glue of this book. Marianne needs to learn how to listen to Elinor, and Elinor for her part does learn that Marianne’s instincts are on point. Each one is allowed to be right about something. Perhaps the imbalance between them is the point: even when Marianne is wrong or unkind, Elinor displays patience and a higher moral authority. As we see in other characters throughout the story, had she lacked sensitivity, she wouldn’t have been able to provide Marianne this support. We need them to need each other for the story to work. Because a good sibling is hard to find in the land of Sense & Sensibility.

Credit for the above illustration goes to Nancy Leschnikoff.