Jane Austen's Clothing: Things, Property, and Materialism in Her Novels JAMES THOMPSON On a visit to London in 1813, Jane Austen wrote her sister that she saw "a small portrait of Mrs. Bingley, excessively like her. I went in hopes of seeing one of her Sister, but there was no Mrs. Darcy . . . Mrs. Bingley's is exactly herself, size, shaped face, features and sweetness; there was never a greater likeness. She is dressed in a white gown with green ornaments, which convinces me of what I had always supposed, that green was a favorite colour with her. I dare say Mrs. D. will be in Yellow" (24 May 1813, Letters, pp. 309-10).1 That none of these details of appearance, taste, and dress appears in Pride and Prejudice supports what R. W. Chapman observes of Austen: "she knows all of the details, and gives us very few of them."2 Her novels give us few specifics of clothing, even while her letters, as one reader complains, "deal wearisomely with details of dress."3 We weary easily of such details because we are accustomed to read Austen, and novels in general, by moving from objects to values, interpreting the objects portrayed as a foundation on which is constructed elaborate social and ethical systems. This easy move from materialism to idealism, how ever, tends to obscure the real pressures of material life, pressures which qualify, if not undercut, the more obvious morals exemplified in Austen s novels. Morals are so obvious to us because our traditional approval of didacticism of course foregrounds morality. This examination of how Austen clothes her characters will, I hope, provide some insight into how 217 218 / THOMPSON she constructs her fiction; the clear lesson that an interest in clothing is vain and frivolous is called into question by a myriad of social and eco nomic demands on women. Austens central subject, emotional change, is reached by transcending both of these sets of concerns. We may begin by observing that articles of clothing are not introduced gratuitously. Even the most casual reference can be said to help set the scene, as when Catherine Moreland's haste to get dressed is overcome by her curiosity in an old chest: "At length, however, having slipped one arm into her gown, her toilette seemed so nearly finished, that the impatience of her curiosity might safely be indulged" (NA, p. 164). More commonly, specific items of dress are mentioned that others may comment on them, as with Elizabeth Bennet's "dirty stockings" which provoke various and telling reactions at Netherfield (PP, p. 36). Similarly, we find out what Willoughby wears when we are told that Marianne "soon found out that of all manly dresses a shooting-jacket was the most becoming" (SS, p. 43). This specific item of clothing reveals Mariannes thinly veiled attraction to Willoughby's person, and further, a shooting-jacket, with its associa tion of youth and sport, contrasts favorably with Colonel Brandon's flan nel waistcoat, with its associations of age and infirmity (SS, p. 38). Particu lar stockings, jackets, and waistcoats, then, are brought to our attention in order to reveal attitudes and assumptions of the characters; like physical objects in general, as Joel Weinsheimer notes, they "are primarily for the purpose of characterization."4 Beyond this metonymic function, clothing tends to fade into the vague description of "fashionable" or "elegant," and we are told almost nothing of what these terms signify.5 When we are told, elegance tends to slip into over-elegance and vulgarity, and fashion into precipitous, irrational change, as in Sanditon, where Mr. Parker calls to his wife: "Look my dear Mary— Look at William Heeley's windows. — Blue Shoes & Nankin Boots!—Who wd have expected such a sight at a Shoemaker's in old Sanditon!—This is new within the Month. There was no blue Shoe when we passed this way a month ago. — Glorious indeed!—Well, I think I have done some thing in my Day" (p. 383). Whenever Austen narrates so particular an interest in dress as this, our suspicions are aroused, for those who think so much of small matters tend to think improperly of great matters...
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