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The question of whether or not George Eliot was what would now be called a feminist is a contentious one. This book argues, through a close study of her fiction, informed by examination of her life's story and by a comparison of her views to those of contemporary feminists, that George Eliot was more radical and more feminist than commonly thought.
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1
âJanetâs Repentanceâ
âEntire Submission, Perfect Resignationâ
âJanetâs Repentanceâ resembles a contemporary moral tale,1 in which an idealistâs rebellious struggle against brutal wife abuse, leading to her alcoholism, is resolved by her wifely submission. The story is thus a saintâs life, in which George Eliot endorses her heroineâs selflessness, ostensibly as doing good, but more clearly than ever afterward revealing a sacrificial ethic rooted in George Eliotâs discarded Evangelical Christianity.
At the same time, George Eliot, writing in 1857, in a decade in which national attention was focused on domestic violence and divorce,2 is covertly attacking patriarchyâs concept of marriage. In the most ambitious of the stories in her first work of fiction, Scenes of Clerical Life, she is supporting feministsâ critical view of unhappy marital relations.
i
George Eliot carefully prepares the scene of domestic violence in which Janet first appears. In the early 1830s (ii, 58a; L, II:347), which Mary Ann, coming of age, regarded as the dark ages for women, we see Mr. Dempster, a successful lawyer, egoistic and overbearing, securing support for persecuting the new Evangelical clergyman, Mr. Tryan, and we learn that Janet, Dempsterâs wife, is known for her charitable works, but, fearful of her husband, has taken to drink (iii, 70ab).
Returning home after his evening drinking, Dempster knocks on his door, using his key when Janet doesnât answer. Furious because she keeps him waiting in the dark, he beats her. We have to do here with a middle-class, professional man, who is âthe drunken tyrant of a dreary midnight homeâ (vii, 195a), counterposing the common assumption that wife abuse was confined to the lower classes. Even feminist Frances Power Cobbe, in her influential article on wife-beating,3 in 1878, lamenting that menâs serious offenses against women were regarded as minor,4 writes: âWife-beating exists in the upper and middle classes rather more, I fear, than is generally recognised; but it rarely extends to anything beyond an occasional blow or two of a not dangerous kind. . . . The dangerous wife-beater belongs almost exclusively to the artisan and labouring classes.â5
Moreover, the woman, âstanding stupidly unmoved in her great beauty, while the heavy arm is lifted to strike herâ (iv, 76b), is drunk. Again readers would have been shocked, for they, like Dempster, have a double standard about drinking. He says, âadvancing with his slow drunken step. âWhat, youâve been drinking again, have you? Iâll beat you into your sensesââ (iv, 76b). Drinking is not feminine.6 In fact, one writer says Janet, âthe first detailed portrait of a middle-class, female alcoholic, is unique in nineteenth-century English fiction,â7 and George Eliot wrote, in 1859, that she thinks Janet âthe least popular of my charactersâ (L, III:35). But George Eliot, having known âthe real Janetâ (L, II:347),8 is determined to tell the painful truth (L, II:348), quashing the patriarchal myths that comforted her fellowmen.9
A little over a year before writing this scene, George Eliot had applauded Barbara Smithâs petition âpraying that married women may have a legal right to their own earnings, as a counteractive to wife-beating and other evilsâ (L, II:225), and there are brief references in several of George Eliotâs novels to domestic violence in the middle class.10 In âJanetâs Repentance,â she focuses on this as an intractable evil, which was a growing concern of the Womenâs Movement from the 1870s.11 Common law had made physical correction of women legal12 until, in 1829, the Act of Charles II, which embodied the old common law and authorized a man âto chastise his wife with any reasonable instrument,â was annulled,13 but legal opinion on chastisement remained ambivalent until 1891.14
As Dempsterâs drinking worsens, Janetâs âhome miseryâ (xiii, 339a) deepens. Lacking the love of children to feed âher poor hungry heart,â she cannot endure Dempsterâs âbrutal hatredâ (xiii, 339b) without drinking. Dempsterâs mother, in whom there is an âabsence of mental strength,â and who seems to have been created in order to represent the conventional point of view, thinks that her son would not have gone wrong if he had married âa meek woman like herself who would have borne him children, and been a deft, orderly housekeeperâ (vii, 195b), who made herself a slave to all her husbandâs wishes without caring to make a fuss about loving him (xiii, 339b). But the narrator hastens to make it clear that Janet, whose white wedding gown symbolizes her innocence (iii, 70a),15 is blameless. â[D]o not believe that it was anything either present or wanting in poor Janet that formed the motive of her husbandâs cruelty. Cruelty . . . requires no motive outside itselfâit only requires opportunity.â And brandy gave the opportunity. â[A]n unloving, tyrannous, brutal man needs no motive to prompt his cruelty; he needs only the perpetual presence of a woman he can call his own. A whole park full of . . . animals . . . would not serve him so well to glut his lust of torture; they could not feel as one woman does; they could not throw out the keen retort which whets the edge of hatredâ (xiii, 340a). And, under coverture, any man can call his wife his own, that is, âhis PROPERTY, in the sense in which a horse is his property,â for we know from slave-owning mentality that men assume they can do as they like with their property.16
But Janet âwas not to be made meek by cruelty; she would repent of nothing in the face of injustice.â It is when â[p]roud, angry resistance and sullen endurance were . . . almost the only alternatives she knewâ (xiii, 340a) that the last contest between her and Dempster takes place. On an evening when he is expecting dinner guests, Janet laid out his fresh clothes. When he throws them at her, she determines she will leave them for the guests to see (xiv, 343a). For the first time, her resentment overcomes her pride in hiding her griefs from the world, but George Eliot, who never regards servility as a virtue, gives no indication that rebellious Janet is morally wrong here. At midnight, when the guests have left, Dempster, angry over her defiance, rousing her out of bed and threatening to kill her, thrusts her, in her night dress, out of doors into the March cold (xiv, 344ab). The scene is particularly terrible because it conjures up that in which Othello, another madman, murders his innocent wife.
Becoming benumbed with cold, she goes to the home of her friend Mrs. Pettifer. There, considering her options, she cannot think of a practical solution to âher old life of terror, and stupor, and fevered despairâ (xvi, 460a). She knows Dempster would never consent to a separation. The law might give her some protection âif she could prove her life in danger from him,â but âshe shrank utterly . . . from any active, public resistance . . . : she felt too crushed, too faulty, too liable to reproach . . . to put herself openly in the position of a wronged woman seeking redress. She had no strength to sustain her in a course of self-defence . . . : there was a darker shadow over her life than the dread of her husbandâit was the shadow of self-despairâ (xvi, 460b). Even though, in her wild despairing anguish, she reflects that â[t]he easiest thing would be to go away and hide herself from himâ (xvi, 460b), she cannot face the difficulties attending separation. She fears not only that he would persecute her mother but that she herself would find starting life afresh without the support of faith or love impossibly hard. And she cannot choose death (xv, 458ab); she had tried to commit suicide (xiv, 342a). âBetter this misery than the blank that lay for her outside her married homeâ (xiii, 340a). Furthermore, her reluctance to defend herself is understandable in a patriarchal society that, while regarding Dempsterâs physical abuse as âbeyond what was reasonable,â tolerated drunkenness and wife-beating,17 criticizing Janet, who had had a âsuperior educationâ (iii, 70a), as proud and unconventional (iii, 70aâ71a; xiii, 339b, 341a). Having shown that Janetâs situation is intolerable, George Eliot implicitly protests that, under common law, it is irremediable.18
But once Janet is out of reach of her husband, her complaint changes. Previously his abuse was her problem, but now alcoholism becomes her problem. Before her escape from home, George Eliot, in referring to Mrs. Raynorâs prediction that Janet will be âsobbing out her griefs with selfish passionâ (v, 192b), complaining that âGod is cruelâ to have made her bear such misery (xiv, 342a), and in the narratorâs statement that Janet might have been saved from much sin and therefore much sorrow if she had been a mother (xiii, 239bâ240a), has only twice suggested that Janet has some responsibility for her misery. We only learn after her escape that âher sorrows and her sinsâ (xv, 427b) are her drinking. Then, for the first time, the narrator says her main problem is not dread of physical abuse but the âself-despair,â from which she has sought oblivion in drinkingââthat evil habit, which she loathed in retrospect and yet was powerless to resistâ (xvi, 460b).
Depicted at first as a victim, she becomes a wrongdoer (her story is Janetâs repentance). In confessing to Mr. Tryan, she emphasizes her drinking, which makes her do âwrongâ (xviii, 464b), and he refers repeatedly to her drinking as her âsinâ (xviii, 465a, 466a, 467a; xix, 468b) and âevil habitsâ (xviii, 467a). Under his influence, she almost forgets the abuse; persuaded that her trouble is thinking only of herself (xxviii, 467b), she realizes that her sin, symbolized by her drinking, is âminding about pleasureâ (xviii, 467a). Contrasting herself with self-denying Mr. Tryan and the missionary Henry Martyn (xxiii, 523a), on whom the former is modeled,19 she says, âI was only angry and discontented because I had pain to bearâ (xviii, 467b). What she really wants is to find a way to endure her misery and thus avoid being âgoaded into sin by womanâs bitterest sorrowsâ (v, 192b).20 Mr. Tryan explains that âdesiring to have our own will, seeking happiness in the things of this worldâ is ârebellion against God,â which makes us breathe poisoned air (xviii, 467a). âThere is nothing that becomes us but entire submission, perfect resignationâ (xviii, 467b).21 Janetâs husband out of the way, George Eliot focuses on her heroineâs problem as primarily a spiritual one, and Janet, who says she has âleft off minding about pleasureâ and âcould be contented in the midst of hardshipâ (xviii, 467a), seems regenerated, by the only means George Eliotâs characters are regenerated, by anotherâs loving solicitude. âBlessed influence of one true loving human soul on another!â George Eliot exclaims. âNot calculable by algebra, not deducible by logic, but mysterious, effectual, mighty as the hidden process by which the tiny seed is quickened, and bursts forth into tall stem and broad leaf, and glowing tasselled flowerâ (xix, 468b).
The rest of the story is concerned with testing Janetâs newfound self. Converted, she again feels concern for others (xxii, 522ab; xxiii, 523ab), including her husbandâconcern that âhad always been her purest enjoymentâ (xxv, 530a) before her miseries had become severe, when she was seldom seen âgoing about on her good-natured errandsâ (xiii, 340b). She tells Mr. Tryan that she would like to go back to Robert and âtry to make up for what has been wrong in me.â She says she has âthe same dread of his anger and cruelty, and it seems to me as if I should never be able to bear it without falling into the same sinsâ (xxii, 522ab). Yet, like Marian, who wrote that she has âoften felt the superiority of a large tolerance which will hardly allow any ground for complete alienation from the once known and once lovedâ (L, III:456), Janet is uneasy about any voluntary breach. âIt seems a dreadful thing in life, when any one has been so near to one as a husband for fifteen years, to part and be nothing to each other any more. Surely that is a very strong tie, and I feel as if my duty can never lie quite away from it.â Mr. Tryan counsels: âCast yourself on God, and trust that He will direct youâ (xxii, 522b). So ends discussion about separating from her abusive husband.
The next day, when she discovers that Robert is seriously ill, she immediately assumes her place by his bedside, seeing her sick-room ministrations as an imperative duty, which sweeps aside all doubt about returning to him. â[W]here a human being lies prostrate, . . . the moral relation of man to man is reduced to its utmost clearness. . . . As we bend over the sick-bed, all the forces of our nature rush towards the channels of pity, of patience, and of loveâ (xxiv, 525ab).22 Motivated by a âbenign impulse,â she feels relief from âthe burthen of decisionâ (xxiv, 525a, 525b)23 about returning to her married home. â[I]n a moment,â she determines to return and âwait on [Robert] with . . . such all-forgiving love, that the old harshness and cruelty must melt away for everâ (xxiv, 525b). Penitent and submissive, confident that she would not be drawn to sin and despair again (xxiv, 526a), she is selflessly bent on doing good.
But now dying Dempster is no longer the threat that would ultimately test her submissiveness. Unable to resolve the issue of her relation to a recovered Robert (no one around her feels any certainty about what she should do), George Eliot, by a deus ex machina,24 kills one to whom long-term submission is unthinkable. Saved by Dempsterâs death, submissive Janet seems to be patriarchyâs model wife (and George Eliot patriarchyâs advocate) without having to demonstrate that she is such. George Eliot, who early had seen an incompatible marriage for herself as hell, will not prove that Janet becomes absolutely submissive under all circumstances by having her return to continued abuse from a recovered husband. She will not show Janetâs resignation as harming herself any more than Scott will show Jeanieâs truth-telling harming another in Heart of Midlothian. While writing the story, Marian advised Sara Hennell not to publish with Chapman because âself-defeating actions do no one any goodâ (L, II:377). Despite George Eliotâs admiration for self-sacrifice, she will not recommend sacrifice that is absolutely intolerable. In none of George Eliotâs stories of marital incompatibility, does she ever show patriarchyâs ideal of the reconciliation of estranged husband and wife within their home. Forcing two mismatched persons to live together could, she thought, issue in no good.
The story does not end with Dempsterâs death. Desirous of showing that Janetâs transformation is permanent, George Eliot concerns herself with proving that all sign of Janetâs selfishness, her alcoholism, the ârefuge of despairâ (xv, 457a), has disappeared. Counseled by Mr. Tryan, she ultimately succeeds in refusing to yield to temptation when lonely and depressed. The occasion is a baptismal epoch (xxv, 533b), signifying her perfect selflessness: thereafter she is occupied with âworks of love and mercyâ (xxvi, 534a), especially with a generous scheme to ease Mr. Tryanâs decline. But the true significance of her repenting the self-indulgence that motivated her drinking is not that she does good but that she attains purity and holiness (xxv, 532a), the âpower to subdue selfâ (xxvii, 539a). In overcoming her ââspiritualâ weaknesses,â George Eliot is revealing that her real interest is not in Janetâs doing go...
Table of contents
- Cover
- Title
- Copyright
- Contents
- Acknowledgments
- Abbreviations
- Introduction
- 1 âJanetâs Repentanceâ
- 2 Adam Bede
- 3 The Mill on the Floss
- 4 Silas Marner
- 5 Romola
- 6 The Spanish Gypsy
- 7 Felix Holt
- 8 Middlemarch
- 9 Daniel Deronda
- Afterword
- Notes
- Works Cited
- Index of Proper Names