Maturing Feminist Fiction
By: Erin Homan

     We can pretend that literature is just a self-contained entity that has no reach outside the world of the pages it is printed on. In reality, the world is connected: every letter to a word, every word to person, every person to their reality, individual reality to the social world, no matter how abstract that reality is from the person next to them. Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley, is steeped in social commentary, despite its horrific imaginations. Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Brontë, offers an insight into the world of the socially oppressed, disenfranchised woman and a response to Shelly’s dark ambiguous ending for Victor Frankenstein’s creation, The Monster. Recognizing that women are limited to expand their horizons based on the oppressive, patriarchal society they endure, Shelley and Brontë use their characters to symbolize a woman’s position as an outsider to society (Mcloughlin 55), and reveal to the reader their commentary on the adaptive preferences society forces upon an unequal participant.

     The Monster of Shelley’s Frankenstein, and Jane of Brontë’s Jane Eyre, are rife with striking comparison’s and similarities. In fact, the list is too exhaustive to focus on all completely and thoroughly and is outside the scope of this paper. (For a thorough thematic analysis see Young, “The Monster Within”). The most prominent, and the focus for this paper, is The Monster and Jane’s rejection from society: “For Jane and The Monster, this contrast between their own situations and the domestic communion from which they are excluded becomes the definition of their isolation.” (Young 334). Whether the isolation be self-imposed as was Jane’s, or forced as was The Monster’s, it is the character’s individual internal disposition, and their acceptance or denial of their adapted preferences that result in the two polar fates. The Monster is reduced to disappearing into isolation and an inevitable death, whereas Jane gains her original choice in life; the latter viewed as a noticeable “maturation of feminist fiction.” (Mcloughlin 41).
 
     Many scholars have noted or pointed out that the two characters parallel and form a dialogue between the two, addressing the progression of feminist commentary on the social restrictions placed on an individual based on their physical attributes. Scholarly parallel analysis stops with a thematic analysis from both novels as evidence for a progressive timeline of feminist writing, and there is little to no analysis of how the progression or maturing of writing is accomplished. To a reader that wishes to have an articulated response as to whether the novels are satisfying, run into an impediment. How does one account for this maturity that can drive home the idea of progression in works of fiction by two writer’s separated by a couple of decades? The use of identifying adaptive preferences and autonomy in conjunction with social contract theory, can hope to eradicate some of the blank space between the two novels, or at least allow for insight to understanding the different ways the two authors approach the idea of full autonomy of an oppressed individual in a patriarchal constructed society. My aim is to show how a character adopting adaptive preferences can impede an individual character evolution into autonomy with regards to the society they live in, and to show the progression of feminist writing between Shelley and Brontë.

     In order to asses these two novels in relation to adaptive preference, there needs to be an understanding of what adaptive preferences and autonomy are, and how one applies them correctly to make a valid argument. There are numerous debates and arguments defining exactly what adaptive preferences are, how they impede or constructively add to feminist theory, and the question this debate arises— could one be truly capable of autonomy inside a patriarchal constructed society.

     Adaptive preference, as discussed in “Feminism, Adaptive Preferences, and Social Contract Theory” by M.B. Walsh, are preferences formed as an “unconscious response to oppression.” (829). Walsh goes on to point out that this definition causes problems in feminist theory when applied broadly and without grounding in a social context. D. W. Bruckner’s idea of adaptive preference, as a response to a set of feasible options that can be assessed as being worthy or unworthy of pursuit (308), becomes too vague and ambiguous to apply it briefly and constructively. Bruckner claims that his argument “shows the shortcomings” of adaptive preference, which indeed he does, but it lacks a grounding in an individual’s social circle, and relies on conjecture made about individual reflection after the preference is made. (323). One could argue that all preferences, generally speaking, are formed from some sort of response from any outlying capacity or entity. Which leads to a misunderstanding that an individual, within a patriarchal society, can only form preferences inside patriarchal coercion, thus not capable of autonomy (Walsh 830). Or in other words, there is an assumption that one who adapts their preference in relation to their oppressed condition does not have the capacity to develop their own perspective of what is deprived of them in the first place (Khader). Reflection by the individual, on a preference made, causes the preference to be augmented to suit the ideals of society and not of the individual. Thus, one falls into a trap of circular reasoning and an impasse.
 
     Defining and understanding autonomy is needed to narrow the focus of oppression and the effect of adaptive preferences associated with it. I propose using Colburn’s straightforward definition of autonomy, “deciding for oneself what is valuable, and living one’s life in accordance with that decision,” (61), for clarity and argument’s sake. In summary so far, for this paper adaptive preferences are the forced decisions of an oppressed individual with a limited set of options, but an individual has the capacity to determine their own life goals and understand the implications of such power, with no reflection needed to base whether or not a preference is valid. The choice made, is the choice made.
 
     Applying social contract theory can be used to identify adaptive preference, and the implications of that decision (Walsh). Again, determining what is social contract theory is imperative to fully understanding the point being made of Frankenstein and Jane Eyre, as a linear timeline of maturing feminist writing. Social contract theory can be historically traced all the way back to the time of classical philosophers like Aristotle, Plato, and Protagoras. (Callicott 251). A widely read philosopher during the time of Shelley, Rousseau, published his understanding of a social contract theory in 1762. (Andrews X) Rousseau’s theory states, “Each of us puts in common his person and his power under the supreme direction of the general will; and in return we receive every member as an indivisible part of the whole.” (Andrews 14). According to Beenstock, and I agree, there is a problem with a theory that excludes the will of an individual to benefit the greater will of a group, setting aside the autonomy of the individual; “Rather than bring individuals together, society is designed to protect them from each other.” (Beenstock). Beenstock’s take on social contract theory is a reformation of Rousseau’s, stating that individuals form their own sociable circle to serve their own needs and desires. So instead of defining social contract theory to be practiced in society, I propose to use the idea as a way of seeing the fallacy of its own design, as it pertains to Frankenstein and Jane Eyre. As outlined by Walsh and adapted from theorist John Rawls:

social contract theory is a ‘thought-experiment for the purpose of public and self-clarification’ that operationalizes the notion that we are each ends in ourselves, living among others who are ends in themselves. (836).

Paring all three parts: adaptive preference, autonomy, and social contract theory, together to make a whole: the preference of an individual is a socially constructed idea that relies on the individual to decide if their preference is agreeable with their state and then to adapt if there is an incongruity to their own life goals. Using his idea to assess The Monster of Frankenstein, and Jane of Jane Eyre, one can track the progression of feminist fiction from the first novel to the latter.
 
     Starting with Frankenstein, one would argue that The Monsters’ initial preference was to acquire social status as a human being with his interactions to those around him. The first rejection The Monster experiences is from his creator, Victor Frankenstein. Not able to understand yet the feelings and desires that he is experiencing, The Monster runs from his place of origin and after multiple run ins with naturally born men, finds himself at the home of the exiled De Lacey family. It is in this place of outside, isolated viewing of human interaction through a small hole in a boarded up window, The Monster is able to perceive the sociable world that surrounds him. The Monster is unable to interact within this sphere of companionship, in which he conceives the notion for desiring:

I admired virtue and good feelings, and loved the gentle manners and amiable qualities of my cottagers; but I was shut out from intercourse with them…[from] becoming one among my fellows. (Shelley 146).

Being both exiled, The Monster because of his grotesque appearance, and the De Laceys as political refugees, they share a common thread that could serve as a ground work for bonding between the two. But, again The Monster is faced with rejection, this time from the De Lacey home after being seen by Felix, who then reacts as every other naturally born man has before, with fear and disgust. The Monster flees the social world to live in the shadows of society and to wreak havoc on the life of Victor.

     Unable to achieve the first preference, The Monster resorts to an adaptive preference: desiring another in his likeness: The Monster entreats Victor:

I am alone, and miserable; man will not associate with me…You must create a female   for me, with whom I can live in the interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being. (Shelley 168).

When socially destroyed, The Monster desires a restructuring of his current state; that is in the end unattainable, the unfinished work of his equal set in a watery grave by his and hers creator, Victor. From this, Shelley is making a commentary that the social realm in which a disenfranchised individual, such as The Monster, wishes to establish equality is unattainable. The Monster is not fallible for lack of trying; but because The Monster relies on others for his sociable inclusion, he fails.  
 
     The final appearance of The Monster is Shelley’s final commentary on the barrier between society and the oppressed, “Polluted by crimes, and torn by the bitterest remorse, where can I find rest but in death?” (Shelley 244). The disposition of The Monster fails him in the positive restructuring of his individual state, leaving an unanswered problem to the gap between the oppressed effectively achieving autonomy in the sociable word. As a response to Rousseau and his social contract, Shelley puts forth the question, how can an unequal but willing participant in society, hope to gain equal footing when society, as a group, will not reciprocate the same will?

     Brontë, with her novel Jane Eyre, bridges that gap and reveals a progression in the hope for total, that is across the board, autonomy and social inclusion for all unequal individuals. To understand how adaptive preferences influence but do not cause the result of social equality desired by Jane, one must start with the self-imposed isolation of Jane, and the revealing of Bertha. According to S. Gilbert in her essay “A Dialogue of Self and Soul: Plain Jane’s Progress,” Bertha Antonietta Mason “is Jane’s truest and darkest double.” (488). Bertha symbolizes everything Jane is not; Bertha is the rebellious side of Jane. Rochester describes his first wife as “intemperate and unchaste.” (Brontë 261). Bertha’s physical qualities are the opposite of Jane’s plain and little outward appearance: “she parted her shaggy locks…that purple face— those bloated features…she was a big woman, in stature almost equaling her husband.” (Brontë 250). But, where they differ on physical qualities, Jane and Bertha share the same lot in life. Both are women that should have no greater aspiration in life, as dictated by societies norms for women of 19th century England, but to marry and create the next generation of society. Bertha is the rebellious monstrosity, the physical manifestation of what Jane desires. To marry Rochester as an unequal would ultimately result in a similar fate for Jane. When Jane and Rochester are first engaged, the dialogue from Jane uncannily sums up what Jane is and how if she had Bertha’s wealth and beauty, maybe she would be equal in this world, but it takes otherworldly passage to be deemed an equal to Rochester: 

Do you think I am an automaton?— a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!— I have as much soul as you,— and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard     for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh— it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal— as we are! (Brontë 215-216).

     After the revealing of Bertha Antonietta Mason, Rochester’s locked up, assumed crazed, wife, Jane flees from the impropriety of a socially unacceptable situation. Jane’s first preference of being the wife of Rochester, does not encompass autonomy because Jane is still economically inferior while being assumingly equal on other planes. Adding the social stigma of being mistress to a married man does not suit the countenance of Jane. If she were to stay, and marry Mr. Rochester in spirit only, she risk’s losing everything she holds dear, and furthering the gap of social equality, she craves to shrink. In the end Jane knows her spiritual marriage to Mr. Rochester is a mirror image of the marriage between Rochester and Bertha Antonietta Mason. “It spoke to my spirit: immeasurably distant was the tone, yet so near, it whispered in my heart— ‘My daughter, flee temptation!’… ‘Mother I will,” (Brontë 272). Jane’s run from the temptation of being Mr. Rochester’s mistress, signifies she has a chance for finding her independence and possible happiness, free from scandal and pain. Her adapted preference is to be separated from the one person she desires and remain true to her convictions and ideals.  

     Jane’s wandering in the wilderness, after arriving at Whitcross, where she reflects, “I am absolutely destitute.” (Brontë 275), mirrors the isolation and social rejection experienced by The Monster. Jane is cut off from society, and the few people she meets along her journey reject her because of the implied stigma of her current economic situation. Upon reaching Moor House, Jane, reflecting the same predicament as Shelley’s monster, spies through a partially over grown with ivy window to spy her saviors, the Rivers family. Although Jane resigns herself for death, her certain death is intervened by St. John Rivers discovering her at the edge of death on his doorstep.

     Where the two characters, Jane and The Monster, differ is in the individual disposition at the crux of their respective stories. Brontë does this as a progressive improvement on the autonomy of an oppressed individual. Pushed to the brink of death, Jane is welcomed into the house of the Rivers family to recover from her wanderings and social isolation. It is here that Jane reaches partial autonomy with recovery from her trials in her wandering in an isolated and deprived state. Her old desire emerges as new; to find work and sustain herself, free from the constrains of being indebted to anyone.  

     Jane finds full autonomy with employment in the village school and gains social status with her inheritance, from an uncle, that was told Jane had died while attending school. Although the long lost uncle has passed, he is the link to the very family who were Jane’s savior’s from the moors. In a twist of fate, Jane had stumbled upon the very home of her cousins, she never knew she had.  This adaptive preference of social inclusion and equality that was sought is now fully complete, and yet is not satisfying for Jane. When faced with a new prospect, marrying St. John and becoming a missionary’s wife, Jane questions what her adaptive preference resulted in:

 Can I…endure all the forms of love…and know that the spirit was quite absent? Can I bear the consciousness that every endearment he bestows is a sacrifice made on principle? No: such a martyrdom would be monstrous. (Brontë 345).

By rejecting her own adaptive preference and returning to Ferndean, to be at Rochester’s side, Jane finds her own autonomy and social equality. “I am independent, sir, as well as rich: I am my own mistress.” (Brontë 370). Jane, despite still being in a patriarchal society, is free to pursue what and who she wants. Which Jane returns to the original preference of being a complete equal with Rochester, free from the adaptation of a husband’s economic stability, or the social impropriety of being a mistress to a married man:

To be together is for us to be at once as free in solitude, as gay as in company. We talk, I believe, all day long: to talk to each other is but a more animated and an audible thinking. All my confidence is bestowed on him; all his confidence is devoted to me; we are precisely suited in character—perfect concord is the result. (Brontë 384).

     Brontë, at first imitates Shelley’s story of the grotesque monster, but then diverges from the fate of an ill-conceived monstrosity. It is through the progression of rejecting adaptive preference, that Brontë reveals her character, Jane, to be a fully autonomous individual, and able to be a participant in the sociable world, despite it still being a patriarchal oppressive system, without compromising her moral conscious, or impeding her previously held ideals of self-worth.

     Adaptive preferences and the idea of such a concept, is problematic when trying to discern feminist theory writing as it emerges. With the help of understanding autonomy and its relation to society, the progression of thought is made clear. Shelley responds to the limitations a social contract theory of her contemporary times imposes on individuals seeking to become a part of the whole in a patriarchal oppressive state. As a woman writer, Shelley places a monstrous male character at the center of her story, having to adapt to the human reactions to his ugly appearance, a feature of his existence out of his control. It is the companionship of others that The Monster tries for, and fails to create for himself a viable living condition, because of the adaptive preferences that he adopted as a result of his rejection and isolation. Brontë mirrors this idea, in her character Jane, but is divergent in her later development of the character. Jane does not embrace the adaptive preferences she undergoes, and instead relies on herself to make the changes necessary for her desired fate. In fact, through her outward rejection and non-internalization of those preferences, it is possible for her reach a desirable state of full autonomy, and ultimately an equal with her partner, Rochester. This divergent path, taken by Brontë, as a writer, and Jane, as a character, is viewed as a “maturing” feminist theme. It is just one step in maturing from ambiguity to a solid foundation, in which succeeding feminist writers can hope to have a firm standing upon.  

 

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